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#and the hair!! how dare I forget about the hair!
stars-kiss-the-sky · 2 years
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hot strangers are cursed-blessings
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neroushalvaus · 4 months
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Tumblr in the 60s
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☮ monkeewholock follow
🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈
🐞 homophilespock follow
SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK
🚀 starrfleet follow
They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.
📻 lesbianbobdylan follow
Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass
10,8 t. notes
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🌻 flowerpower follow
Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes
🌻 flowerpower follow
...i just woke up, why is my askbox full
🌻 flowerpower follow
WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED
🌻 flowerpower follow
guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed
290,9 t. notes
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🎹 nixonsafascist follow
do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard
🎹 nixonsafascist follow
easy website
58,1 t. notes
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🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow
Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you
🗣 lavendermenaceisreal-deactivated72537262
Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.
🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow
Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you
🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow
Oh no I think she couldn't handle that
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✌ draftdodgerdyke
DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.
🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow
You should be ashamed of yourself.
✌ draftdodgerdyke
huh??
🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow
I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.
✌ draftdodgerdyke
Jesus, don't flip your wig
🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow
My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.
✌ draftdodgerdyke
Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.
#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft
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🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow
in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly
🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow
#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus
idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post
✝️ jesusrevolution follow
The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.
🚷 to-hell-with-the-beatles follow
How dare you say we piss on the poor?? Jesus died for Mr Lennon's sins and it's not "cancelling" to send him a few respectably worded death threats to remind him of that. He cancelled our Lord first!
✝️ jesusrevolution follow
Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.
🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow
help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post
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🛼 donovandyke follow
I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!
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🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287
Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!
🥁 ringoforpresident follow
it literally does tho
✌ draftdodgerdyke
Another win for us hot guys
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matarsack · 2 years
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i think the world doesn’t know what it really means to live in a theocratic dictatorship. Let me tell you about our experiences living in the islamic regime of iran.
1. Your parents were born to muslim parents so they’re automatically muslim. You’re automatically a muslim too. You didn’t choose your religion and you can’t opt out of it or you will be executed.
2. The compulsory hijab law makes you a criminal if you choose not to wear hijab even tho you didn’t choose to be a muslim and you don’t consider yourself a muslim but the regime has forced you into that role whether you like it or not. And when you ‘break that law’, they can do with you as they please.
3. little girls as young as 7 yrs old are forced to wear hijab at school even tho the islam itself says the age is 9. and all the schools are gender segregated so imagine how they force you to get used to hijab even when you’re just surrounded by other girls. And all day long at school they tell you horrible stories about what will happen to you in hell if someone sees even a strand of your hair.
4. the regime modifies all the textbooks, story books, cartoons and movies to represent the ideal woman with full on hijab. The iranian media is ordered to photoshop every photo of a woman that may be showing a little skin. And if they’re iranian, no hair is supposed to be seen or that will be photoshopped away. Women are mostly excluded from billboards and tv commercials.
5. imagine going to work or meeting up with a friend when suddenly the morality police kidnap you in broad daylight and force you into a van to take you to a station where they will treat you like a criminal and if you don’t agree to get humiliated and do as they say, they will put you in prison. And in case of Mahsa Amini and so many more before her, they will beat you to death. My sister was barely 18 when she got kidnapped and they didn’t let her call home and she’d been so fucking scared and we had no idea where she was. Imagine all the psychological trauma.
6. If you’re in a car and not wearing hijab they will fine you and seize your car. So when u get into a taxi the driver will ask you to keep your hijab on otherwise they’ll get fined. And if you refuse they’ll ask you to get off the car.
7. And its not just about hijab. In Ramadan, they get even more vicious. If they catch you eating or even drinking water on the street they will give you lashes as punishment and even imprison you for breaking the law. If you work in a state-owned company it’s even worse. They will close the cafeteria and take away the water dispensers. All restaurants are banned from delivering food before iftar. It’s a fucking mess. Everyone has to pretend they’re fasting or they’ll be severely punished.
8. And how could I forget about this! iranian women are banned from singing! the islamic regime prohibits women’s singing voices to be heard by men so imagine the horror of having 50% of the population banned from ever becoming a singer. If they identify a female singer in iran, they will take her to jail and force her to repent her sins in the most humiliating way so that she will never dare sing again.
9. And every time the regime gets wind of a private gathering of men and women trying to have fun and live their fucking private lives, the police crash the party and take everyone to jail bc the Islamic regime bans iranian men and women from having fun.
10. Did you know that the islamic regime doesn’t allow women’s faces to be printed on their obituaries or headstones? They put a flower for our faces instead and if they see a headstone with a woman’s face printed on it they’ll smash it to pieces. That’s how religious dictatorship continues to oppress and erase women even after their deaths.
So if you see Islam has become for many iranians a symbol of oppression and torture and discrimination, that’s why. The regime uses islam as a weapon to silence and punish anyone who opposes them. You can love islam all you want from the safety of your home in a free country and talk about how kind and benevolent the religion is, but in iran, it’s a whole different story.
Our economy is fucked. All govt officials are corrupt as fuck. Most websites are banned in iran. Even tumblr is banned. The world has cut the iranian ppl from many services. We don’t have intl credit cards like visa card. Amazon doesn’t do delivery to iran. We cant get netflix, spotify or even a gamepass subscription. we don’t get any Apple services here. iran isn’t listed as a country you could choose when signing up for a lot of services. and when we decide to leave iran and escape this hellhole, every country out there will make it sooo much harder for us to get a visa just bc we had the misfortune to be born in iran at the wrong time.
This is the story of iran for the past 44 years. Held hostage by a corrupt regime that uses religion to suppress and torture the people and being abandoned by the rest of the world bc our lives don’t matter.
Please be our voice. Once they shut down the internet completely and silence our voice, they will start slaughtering us to stifle the protests just like they did in 2019. Please help us. We want this fucking regime gone.
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steddie-as-they-come · 5 months
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"Mom," Steve whispered in the inky blackness of his parents' room. "Mom, there's something under my bed."
Patricia Harrington turned over. "Steven, go back to sleep," she murmured.
"I can't." Steve said. "There's a monster."
"No such thing." his mom said, angrier, more awake. "Go to bed now, and if I catch you out of bed again you can forget going to Tommy's this weekend."
Steve nodded and padded back down the hall, pausing at his door then taking a running jump into bed.
The room was silent.
"I know you're here." Steve whispered, making sure all his limbs were tucked safely away under the covers. "You don't scare me."
A couple minutes of quiet, then Steve heard a scraping sound come from under his bed. He squeaked and pulled his blankets up to his nose.
A horrible, raspy laugh came from below him. "I do scare you!" said a voice. "You lied!"
"No-no you don't!" Steve said boldly. He clutched his blanket tighter, then said, "I can't be scared of something I can't see! That's just dumb."
Something dark began to slither across the floor out of the corner of Steve's eye. Oh, I'm gonna regret that, he thought.
The thing began to pull itself up, looming over Steve. It cracked a smile, and sharp white teeth gleamed in the light from his closet.
Steve screamed.
"Shut up!" his dad shouted angrily from downstairs, and Steve clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between the shadow and the door like he wasn't sure which monster to be more afraid of.
The monster crept toward him, and Steve dug his fingernails into his face, scooting away from the horror. He whimpered, not daring to close his eyes.
Then the monster began to shrink.
It shriveled away, changing color and backing up, until a little boy, about Steve's age, stood in front of him. He had long curly hair and was dressed in a t-shirt that was way too big on him. When he opened his eyes, Steve flinched, because the whites of his eyes simply...weren't there. His eyes were an onyx black.
"Hi," the boy said. "I'm Eddie."
Steve was too stunned to speak, but he did uncover his mouth.
"I'm the monster under your bed!" Eddie said. "I'm supposed to scare you, but, um-" he risked a quick look at the door "-I don't think you need my help for that."
"Why are you supposed to scare me?" Steve asked.
Eddie shrugged. "Dunno. Every kid's got one. It's just how it works. I was made to be your monster, forever!" He sat down on the edge Steve's bed, bumping Steve's shoulder against his. "Weird to be on this side of the bed. No dust bunnies or anything."
Steve giggled, forgetting his fear. "You're fun!"
Eddie grinned at him. "Thank you! None of the other monsters think my jokes are funny."
"So you have to scare me?" Steve asked. "But you're not scary. Not after talking to me."
Eddie paused. "Oh, right. I'm not supposed to talk to you. Um..."
"What if we just say you're scaring me?" Steve asked. "I'll pretend I'm really scared of the monster under my bed, and you pretend you scare me every single night. But really we're hanging out instead of scaring!"
"Ooh, I like that idea!" Eddie struck a dramatic pose. "I'll be the monster under your bed, but I'll be ready to protect you if you need it too!"
Steve stuck out his hand like he saw his dad do for business deals. "Deal?"
Eddie shook it. "Deal."
-
Steve sprinted through the forest, the kids hot on his heels. "There!" he shouted. "Everyone in!"
The kids bolted to the abandoned cabin, and Steve slammed the door shut. "Is there a bed in here?" he called. "A couch? A fridge?"
"Bed's in here!" Will yelled, and Steve followed his voice to the cluttered bedroom, complete with partially-caved-in bedframe. He gingerly took a seat on the mattress, cringing when it crackled. He did not need to know what was on this.
"Eddie?" he called, tapping on the flaky painted wood.
The shitheads crowded in, and Mike murmured. "What the fuck is he doing?"
Steve ignored him. "Eddie, come on, I need your help."
Something tall, dark, and lanky slid out from under the bed, and all the kids jumped back in fright, raising their various weapons. Steve leapt to get in front of them, raising his hands as a shield. "Chill! Calm down, this is Eddie!"
Eddie shrank into his human form, draping himself over Steve. "You had to summon me to the nastiest bed in Indiana? Really, Steve?"
Steve shrugged. "This was the closest one. We need your help, Eds."
"We?" He focused on the Party. "Well, these must be the infamous buttheads." Eddie slid into the shadows and reappeared behind the Party, inspecting them. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, right?" he said, pointing at each one as he said their names.
"What the fuck are you?" Dustin asked.
Suddenly Eddie was under Steve's arm, wrapping a hand around his waist. "I'm Steve's monster under the bed." he said. "I'm just... friendlier with Steve than most of the monsters I work with."
Steve rolled his eyes. "You can tell him you're my boyfriend, they know I'm bi." He kissed Eddie on the cheek.
The kids all broke into gasps, except for Max, who fake gagged. "Don't be gross!" she yelled. "Demogorgon outside, remember?"
"Ah, right." Steve said. "Eds, can you-"
"On it." Eddie kissed Steve. "I'll be back."
The kids watched Eddie melt into shadows, then wheeled on Steve. "Steven Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Harrington," Dustin said. "You have a lot of explaining to do."
edit: i did not expect this response to the short little thing that took me 30 mins max at 2am!! i’m planning on rewriting it and turning it into a full length fic, so i’ll come back and edit this with the link!
edit #2: if there’s anything you guys want to see in the full length version of this please let me know!! i’m trying my best to make it a slowburn which is horrid for my adhd so let me know if there’s anything you want!!
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verstappen-cult · 24 days
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you come home after a girl’s night out to find charles lying on your bed, arms resting behind his head as he watches an action movie in your room.
“what are you doing here?” you ask, amused.
you leave your heels by the foot of the bed, walking to your vanity to take your necklace and earrings off.
charles smiles at you through the mirror. “waiting for you.” he says it so casually, so genuine, like he does not have somewhere to be, at the other side of the world, early in the morning.
“i missed you,” you feel shy admitting it, you saw him just a couple of hours ago, before leaving for the club with your friends. it’s not like you can’t live without him or max, but they have so little free time that all you want to do when they’re home is cuddle together and never leave your home. but your friends begged you to go with them and as much as you wanted to stay with your boyfriends, you also wanted to see your girl friends. “they played that song you like so much. it made me missed you even more.”
charles coos at you, forgetting the movie to, instead, make grabby hands. it makes you giggle but you are immediately sprinting to the bed, climbing carefully onto his lap.
“and what about you?” you play with the collar of his shirt, looking at your boyfriend from beneath your eyelashes. “did you miss me?”
“we missed you very much.” max enters the room making you smile even brighter. he walks to the side of the bed where both of you are and places a cup of tea on your nightstand. you pout at him and he leans to give you a little peck on the lips. “did you have fun? how much did you drink?” there’s genuine concern in his voice that leaves you flustered, feeling small and taken care of.
“oh, just two gin and tonic’s, and i’m definitely sober if that is what you’re asking.” max nods, smile on his face as he retrieves a make-up remover from your vanity. “and it was such a fun night!” you clap your hands, ranting about how one of your friends kept flirting with the bartender even when he said he was gay and definitely not interested.
“and what about you?” charles asks, playing with a strand of your hair. “did someone try to make a move with you?”
“as if someone would dare to try something.” that earns you a disapproving glare from your blonde-haired boyfriend. “everyone in monaco knows who i belong to.” you touch the tip of max’s nose with the pad of your finger. “only you two.”
max climbs on the bed next to charles, and the latter wraps his free arm, the one not on your waist, around max shoulders, hugging him tightly against his side.
you let max wipe the make-up off your face as they listen to you describe everything that happened that night, even the moment a group of girls approached you to say how jealous they were that you are dating two of the most hot and talented (you added that, they didn’t actually say it but you like to point it out every time you can) drivers on the grid.
“i like to know i make girls jealous.” you say without an ounce of regret, looking between your boyfriends. why would you feel ashamed, right? “and i like to know i’m the only one to have you both.”
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januaryembrs · 7 months
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MAGIC BROWNIE | Eddie Munson x Sunshine!Reader
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Description: Sunshine girl accidentally eats one of Eddie’s “Magic Brownies” and he takes care of his baked girlfriend.
Word count: 3.3k
Trigger Warnings: weed obviously, accidental drug usage, quick mention of child neglect when talking about Eddie as a kid not eating enough. Reader gets undressed but no sex (eddie has a horny thought however)
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This was not how he had expected their day to go. She loved baking for him and Wayne, loved making sure her scrawny, lanky boyfriend was fed, and boy could he eat. Wayne swore he had the stomach(s) of a cow. Any food left on his plate? Give it to Eds. Food ready to go out of date? Nope, Eds is already scarfing it down. Weekly food shop was just brought in? Munson is dining like a king before the fridge door is even open.
Maybe it was from when he lived with his dad and he would forget to feed the little, jet black haired boy for days on end and he would have to be given half his teacher’s lunch when they saw how gaunt he was through his mop of curls. Maybe he had yet to adjust to the idea that he would still have food without storing it for winter like a damn bear, either way she never dared to think about her sweet Eds and his kind uncle going hungry on weeks when money was tight.
But when dessert became an option, Eddie’s sweet tooth was in heaven.
They had the house to themselves on Sundays; Wayne was always pulling doubles on a weekend to make up the extra cash, the garage was always busiest then. They already had leftovers from last night to sort them for the evening, so what else better than to cook than a thick tray of rich brownies she’d practised not even a week earlier.
Unbeknownst to her, Eddie had done his own kind of baking.
“Okay, be there for seven,” He said into the corded phone, biting at his nail as he thought. Nodding to himself, before remembering they couldn’t see him, he hummed a goodbye and hung up the phone.
“Who was that?” She asked, emerging from the loo with freshly wet hands, wiping them on her jeans as she tied the pretty little pink apron around her waist again. Watching her lean down to open the oven door, he smiled to himself, handing her the matching oven mitts.
“No one,” He muttered, shamelessly watching her ass as she bent down to pick out the hot tray, “Just got a package to drop off later,”
“What, like to the post office?” She asked, her eyes flicking to him innocently, shoving the pan out for him to smell.
Smiling toothily at her, as if he knew a secret she didn’t, he kissed her forehead sweetly. “Where else would I take a package, sweet girl?” He murmured, before shoving his finger in the centre of the chocolatey goodness with a childish raspberry blown through his cherry lips.
Hissing when his finger met the hot sugar in the centre, he shoved the digit into his mouth with a groan of delight and pain.
“It’s still hot, honey,” She scolded, putting the tray onto the side to assist the frowning boy.
“You’re still hot, baby,” He said, his words distorted by his finger being in the way of his tongue. Pulling it from his mouth, she inspected the spit covered skin carefully, seeing where it raised red slightly.
Giggling at his words, she kissed the tip gently, unaware of the way his eyes seemed to follow the way her mouth pressed to his burn so carefully, feeling his tummy shiver at his girlfriend's pure actions.
“Feel better Eds?” She asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes, his tongue going dry immediately. His chin bobbed for a second, scrambling for words, before he nodded wordlessly, turning away from her before she could see the way his cheeks blazed a rosy heat of their own.
“Um, I just gotta-” He stammered, heading for his room as she pulled out a sharp knife to cut the slab into segments. His mouth was dry as he dug out the brownies he’d made himself two days prior, though these weren’t as chocolatey as his sweet girlfriend’s and more rammed to high (ha) heavens full of weed.
Did he prefer the taste of hers? Yes, any day of the week she was an amazing cook. Had he burnt the top and left a thick crust whilst somehow managing to undercook the middle? Yes, though he was still at odds with himself just how he’d done so. But were his little gooey creations going to see him and Wayne through two weeks of rent? Absolutely.
Dashing back to the kitchen with the blue tupperware under his arm, he stopped long enough to see her transferring them into some kitchen paper inside her own container, her fingers gentle enough to carve ice let alone handle confectionery.
“I’ll be right back, just gotta take care of some things. How about I swing by Family Video on the way back and rent us The Shining?” He asked, a large, scuffed hand coming up to her face to cup her cheek, brushing away the flour that dusted her eyebrow.
She scrunched up her nose, but kept his doe gaze nevertheless, big, Bambi browns staring down at her, entranced.
“I dunno, Eds. I like those films but they always make me wanna puke afterwards,” She said, lips twisting in disgust, “Plus I get kinda scared when Wayne’s not home anyway, I don’t wanna be thinking of crazy axe wielders. Hawkins is crazy enough as it is,”
Putting the tupperware on the side, next to her pretty pink one, he took her warm cheeks in his grasp and tugged her face closer.
“Which is where I come and hold your hair back and protect you from the intruders, silly girl,” He asked, a kiss going to the tip of her nose, “What does my lady want instead then? Gremlins?” Another to her forehead, “The Lost Boys?” There goes another to her chin of all places, “Labyrinth? Come on, I know you have the hots for Bowie as a Goblin King ya’ little freak,” He blew a raspberry on the apple of her cheek, a big wet kiss following it.
Giggling some more and shoving him away, rubbing her face on her shoulder, “How about E.T?” She asked, her hands coming to rest on his wrists.
He stilled, eyes wide with his own grimace. “E.T? Now that’s a scary movie,” He said, watching his girlfriend roll her eyes and smirk, “I’m serious. That wrinkly mother fucker gave me nightmares, with his extendable neck and his weird eyes and shit-”
“Alright, alright, Labyrinth it is.” She conceded, leaning on her toes to kiss him sweetly on the mouth, “I’ll still need you to hold my hand all night, alright Goblin King?” She asked, watching his cheeks flush as she leaned in closer to him, “Movie night rules, unfortunately,”
He couldn’t remember if he’d said anything, just that his mouth had moved in some kind of agreeing motion, his eyes trained on the way she licked her pretty lips as she leaned in for another kiss. Two years together and she still had his heart hammering away behind his ribcage whenever she kissed him.
He barely remembered getting in his van with the package, its hot pink lip staring at him from the passenger seat, the thought of her shampoo smell invading his nose whenever she got so close he could see each individual pigment in her eye. He barely remembered dropping it off, other than taking the money and wishing his customer a good evening, “I know I will be,” He said under his breath, flooring it to Family Video.
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“One Goblin King and empty hand at your request, fair maiden,” Eddie said, practically tumbling through the door, his van all but ditched in the driveway. Looking around for his sweet girlfriend, he furrowed his brow when he heard not even a peep in response. Usually she would be bouncing over to him with a kiss ready on her lips made just for him, maybe even a bowl of warm, buttery popcorn if he was really lucky.
But nothing.
Twitching the curtains, he made sure her car was in the drive, and just as he’d thought, she’d not left. So where in hell's gates was she?
“Baby?” He called through the small trailer, his panic starting to set in. Surely an intruder would have taken jewellery or money, not a whole woman for christ sakes. Maybe it was the past few years with the Lab being shut down for its dangerous radiation, or the talk of the Russian’s invading their little town, or even that Summer kids went missing from their friend’s pool party, he didn’t know. She was probably just waiting behind the door to jump out at him, or some dumb trick like that. She probably was just in his bedroom getting changed or something like that.
He had never moved through the little hallway so fast, hating how quiet it was.
His heart dropped when he saw his tiny room empty. His unmade bed that he had never seen looking smart sent him over the edge. Was there a struggle? Had his wardrobe door always open? Of course it was, he was a master of leaving things unfinished. He’d leave a sandwich without filling if he wasn’t always so damn hungry. No, he was being silly. There was nothing off about his room, nothing that screamed kidnap other than the god damn silence- why was it so damn quiet-
Then he heard a creak from the bathroom, and it was like his chest took a xanax. “You in there, honey?” He called, doubling back on himself to stand outside the white door, leaning in closer to hear inside. Hearing still no response, he practically melded with the wood, cheek squished against the cold wall, “Baby?”
Nothing, nothing but slight movement from the other side.
Huffing, he reached for the handle, “I’m gonna come in, alright? I’m just checking you’re okay, I’m not a peeping Tom or anything-“
Their bathroom was tiny, was only there for usage over luxury, but it was cosy. Yet, it couldn’t have prepared Eddie for the odd sight. His girlfriend, seemingly playing with something in her hands, fully clothed in a half filled bath, her denim jeans submerged, socks still on her feet, top floating riding up to her chest with the water pressure.
Staring at the back of her head for a moment, the confusion clear on his face, he looked around for anything that could help explain the odd situation, before his eyes fell back on her.
“You alright, honey?” He asked, approaching her carefully, though it took all of one step to make it to the small, PVC tub. Her head lolled to rest against the wall, and she seemed to have only just noticed him standing there.
“Edsy!” She said, smiling dopily up at him, “I was wondering where you got off to,”
Chuckling unsurely, he rested his hand on top of her head, giving her a gentle stroke. “You alright there, Little Mermaid?”
She snorted, reaching up to show him her hands, “I was just painting my nails, see?” Except all he saw was red marker pen drawn over her fingertips, the nails more akin to a toddler coming home from preschool. Thinking she was kidding, he smirked.
“Beautiful baby-” He stopped himself, the smile dropping in an instant when he finally met her eyes. She went to look away, her hand holding the red crayola pen tightly to continue her artwork, but his hand shot out to grab her chin. “Wait, wait, wait. Look at me,” He swore he had never sounded so serious.
She blinked up at him after a moment, again as if taking a second to compute his order, and looked up at him with droopy lids. Smiling at him sweetly, his gaze locked in on her red corneas, bloodshot and absolutely baked expression.
“Baby, are you high? Did you go under my bed?” He asked seriously, turning her head to the streetlight filtering through the window to get a better look.
“Why would I do that, Eds?” She asked, her words drawling, quieting as she ended her sentence as if she hadn’t the energy to finish. “I just had a couple of the brownies I made and started feeling warm and didn’t wanna be sweaty when you got home-”
Hand flying to stroke his temple, he gently caressed his girlfriend’s face, understanding her issue. He must have taken the wrong fucking box.
“Oh baby, oh my sweet girl. I am so sorry.” Taking her head into his chest, he pressed a kiss to her parting. “I’ve spiked my own girlfriend, new fucking low Munson,”
“-ddie,” Her voice was muffled from his Hellfire shirt, “We gonna watch Jared?”
“Jareth, honey,” He sighed, looking down at his stoned girlfriend with a concealed smile. He felt guiltier than a sinner in church but god was she cute high. “Come on, let’s get you dry,”
Hoisting her out of the tub with his hands under her arms, he got her to take off her jeans and top as he held up a large bath towel as a curtain between the two of them, wanting to give her some level of privacy. Hearing her clothes hit the floor with a heavy thud, he wrapped her body with the big towel, feeling her hands in his hair as he helped her into his room, her feet shuffling obediently.
“Now the movie?” She asked, plopping herself down on the bed, her eyes lazily scanning over his walls of posters as if she wasn’t here three times a week. Digging around in his bottom draw for spare clothes, he tried to hide his snort as she nudged at his butt with her foot. “Eddie, now the movie?”
“Nearly, baby,” He said, handing her a grey shirt and boxers big enough to fit comfily on her. “Gonna get you a bit comfier first, I’ll make you some mac and cheese,”
“But I’m not hungry,” She said, tugging the shirt over her head with a whine, before flopping back, feeling dizzy, “You do the legs for me,”
“Huh?” Eddie asked, blushing when she spread her legs and gestured to him with the boxers in her hand.
“You do the legs, my head feels funny,” She mumbled, spreading her arms out on the bed, fingers digging into the fluffy duvet. He knew it was probably soft under her dulled touch.
Eddie and her had been intimate many times before. Hell, they’d had sex before they’d even reached the one month mark, but having her ask him to take her underwear off, even so innocently, had his face red as a saint.
“Alright, honey. I’m gonna make you feel better, get you some water.” He said, hoping she couldn’t feel how his hands shook as he slipped her underwear down her legs, avoiding looking at her private parts for her dignity’s sake, “And trust me you’ll want something to eat in an hour or two,”
“If you say so, Eds,” She murmured as he gently held her ankle to put her foot through the leg hole, doing the same to the other and pulling them over the meat of her thighs that had his mouth watering. Giving her knee a little kiss (he tried to stop himself, he did) he asked her to sit up a little so he could bring the underwear all the way up.
He couldn’t help give the softness of her stomach a kiss too as he rose to see how she was doing, smiling softly when he saw her sleepy eyes regard him with a little smile of her own.
“Tired?” He near whispered, stroking her warm cheeky with his knuckle gently. She shook her head, blinking harshly when it made her vision blurry.
“No, just feel funny,” She said, grabbing onto his wrist to keep his cool hands on her face, “But good funny. I think. Just funny,”
“How many did you have, baby?” He asked, holding onto her hand as she sat up, watching her head tip slightly at the movement, as if he could tell how heavy every part of her felt. He knew the stages of edible high well; he and Keith had been hooked on them in tenth grade, but his sweet girlfriend knew nothing about any of his ‘Magic Brownies’ he sold, and he’d intended to keep it that way until now.
“Two, I think. I think I had a bite of a third and I started feeling weird so I stopped. I thought I just had a lot of chocolate.” She said, head pressed against his shoulder as he led her to the kitchen, “Eddie, my feet are cold,”
“Oh, shit, your socks,” He cursed, heading towards the sofa. “I’ll fix you up, don’t worry honey,” He said, gently helping her sit down, her body all but dead weight.
She murmured something as he pulled away, and he could only give her hand a peck before he was rushing around, grabbing her things that would make her feel better. Fluffy socks to calm her, make her comfy, water for when her mouth got dry, plain tortilla chips for when she started getting hungry while he’d cook her some real food. He all but scowled at the weed confectionary as he passed it, hating the fact he had unknowingly gotten his girlfriend into such a state.
He took barely five minutes before he gently rolled the socks onto her cold feet, throwing himself back down next to her, her head lolling to look up at him through heavy lids.
“We watch Jared now?” She asked, burrowing her face into his shirt.
“We watch Jared now.” He confirmed, chuckling when he felt her try to press herself even further into him, her nose jabbing into his ribs, “What are you doing?”
“Wanna crawl inside your skin, I’m not close enough out here,” She murmured, and Eddie smiled widely down at her, pressing play on the remote.
“I’m gonna pretend that wasn’t mildly creepy, baby,” He said, his arm wrapping around her to keep her close, feeling her melt into his side, “I got you some water for when your mouth goes cottony,”
“Huh?” She said, though her eyes were zeroed in on the screen, his words a jumble in her ears. Nosing her hair line, he chuckled, kissing the tip of her ear and stroking her arm.
“Nothing, just watch your film, honey,” He said, his words a sugary glaze as he looked down at her zombie-like expression.
He had a lot of ass kissing to do in the morning.
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ellemj · 24 days
Text
Off-Limits: Ch. 1
Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU
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Summary: Bucky Barnes wants the one thing he can't have, and he'll go to great lengths to get what he wants. The tension between the two of you makes it impossible for him to think rationally.
Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: I've been thinking about writing something like this for a few weeks but I'm typically not an AU kinda girl so stick with me. Bucky is intentionally out of character in this but hopefully a few of you will like him this way. Also, THANK YOU ILY for the little bullets and foliage art for my timeskips @littlemiss-yeehaw. She is an angel, an inspiration, I love her.
            Off-limits. Nothing has ever pissed James Bucky Barnes off more than the phrase off-limits. The fact that it’s you who’s been labeled off-limits only adds to the fiery rage that’s steadily growing inside of him.
            Bucky leans back in his desk chair, running his flesh hand through his hair while he goes over his options in his mind. He could just take you. He could give a few orders and have you in front of him by nightfall, though he isn’t quite sure how he feels about starting a war simply because he’s thinking with his cock rather than his head. He could have a sit-down meeting with the man he detests most in this world, the man who currently has total control over your future. He could make an offer, bargain for the right to have you to himself. No, that sounds too polite.
            The sound of a fist rapping against the heavy wooden door of his office breaks Bucky out of his thoughts.
            “You told me to come back at eight, so here I am. What did you decide?” Sam asks, shutting the door behind him after entering. He’s itching to do something, anything. His life has been hell ever since Bucky first laid eyes on you. It’s as if the entire fucking operation dropped to the bottom of the totem pole while you rose to the top. It would be great if he could bash a few heads in, fire a few rounds, and deliver you to his boss tonight so he could fuck away whatever this newfound obsession is and get back to being the cunning, ruthless mob boss he’s meant to be.
            “We’re paying my least favorite lowlife a visit.”
            Just like that, James Bucky Barnes and his entourage of over-eager gunmen are on their way to your house, to see your father.
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            As you tiptoe down the mahogany stairs of your childhood home, your bare feet just barely gracing each step, you forget for a moment that you’re not a little girl anymore. You can hear the distant sound of low voices and tense discussion coming from your father’s home office near the bottom of the staircase. When you were younger, those sounds would’ve had the hair on the back of your neck standing up and you would’ve been hightailing it right back to your bedroom. You’re not so timid anymore. The man already holds your entire life in the palm of his hand, molding and shaping it however he sees fit. What’s the point in trying to abide by his rules when it’ll never get you anything other than exactly what he wants for you? So, you continue your daring trip to the kitchen, with the hem of your oversized t-shirt skimming along the skin beneath the curve of your ass and your heart set on a late-night snack.
            Bucky sits across from your father’s desk, his jaw aching due to the number of times he’s caught himself clenching his teeth together during the past hour of deliberations. As he lifts his hand to massage the sore muscle along the side of his face, he hears the sound of a wooden floorboard creaking somewhere outside of the room that he currently sits in. He shifts his gaze around the room, noting the way his own men, your father, and your father’s men all seem oblivious to the miniscule noise that came from somewhere in the house.
            “It doesn’t matter how long we sit here and go through this. My daughter is not getting married, she isn’t on the table.” Your father’s tone, though resolved and sure, doesn’t match the look in his eye. It’s a look that lets Bucky know you’re not actually off the table, he just hasn’t made the right offer yet. The words echo in his head for a moment: on the table.
Fuck. If he sits here for another second, picturing you physically on top of a damn table, he might make an unreasonable offer just to turn that fantasy into a reality. It’s what prompts Bucky to rise to his feet suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his black suit pants to retrieve his phone and act as if he’s going to make a call, maybe a call to check on things within his business to see what else he can offer the piece of shit who sits in front of him. In reality, he’s making up an excuse to get the hell out of that stuffy office and clear his mind just enough to close the deal.
“Let me make a call.” Bucky says evenly, shooting your father a steely look. Your father leans back in his desk chair, relaxing for the first time since his rival showed up on your doorstep an hour ago. When Sam and Torres make moves to follow Bucky out of the office, Bucky holds up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Stay, I won’t be long.”
Leaving his suit jacket draped over the back of the armchair he had been sitting in, Bucky steps out of the office and guides the door to shut as quietly as possible. It’s fucked up, what he’s doing here. He knows that good and well. Offering large sums of money, offering obscene amounts of quality product, offering a damn near eternal truce in the streets…all to have a woman he barely knows. As his eyes adjust to the darkness of his enemy’s home, he casts a glance up the staircase by the office door, wondering if you’re awake up there. Are you sitting in your posh bedroom without a single worry plaguing your pretty little mind? Are you sleeping soundly as he barters with your father for the right to have you all to himself? Or are you thinking about him too, about the handful of times you’ve run into each other over the past two months?
Shaking his head to clear his mind of all thoughts of you, Bucky takes a few steps to his left and turns the corner at the bottom of the stairs, entering the kitchen soundlessly. That’s where he finds you, hidden behind the open refrigerator door as you rummage around for a snack. He sees your bare legs first, peeking out beneath the half-door. He clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the phone in his right hand simultaneously. It fucking hurts just to look at you.
“Your father lets you walk around like that with guests in the house?” He seethes. Startled, you shove the refrigerator door shut just before dropping the container of blueberries in your hand. As the plastic container goes crashing to the kitchen floor, blueberries scatter around your feet. James. When your eyes land on him, you can see the look of disdain all over his face. He despises you, you’re sure of it. Never one to take shit from a man, you narrow your eyes at him before crouching down and positioning yourself on your knees. Bucky watches intently as you pick up the blueberries one by one, placing them back into the plastic container.
“I don’t think my father considers you a guest.” You whisper the insult just loud enough for him to hear it, but not loud enough for your voice to carry over to your father’s office. Bucky’s squeezing his phone so tightly in his hand that he’s already thinking about having to send someone out to pick up a new one for him tomorrow, because surely, he’s shattering the screen of it. It isn’t your cute little attempt at a comeback that’s irking him. It’s the fact that you’re still on your knees, with your t-shirt riding up your thighs and your eyes lifting to meet his gaze as if you have no idea what effect you’re having on him. He’s sure you aren’t that naïve, which means you’re doing this shit on purpose.
“Get up.” He says through his teeth. You narrow your eyes at him before cocking your head to the side and picking up another fallen berry. It’s a test. He wants to see if you’ll listen to him. The way Bucky sees it, if you listen to his command and stand up, he’ll feel a bit better about going to all of this trouble to have you. It would tell him that although you’re defiant and like to talk back, you still know how to do what you’re told. But if you don’t listen? He can think of a few enjoyable ways to break you of that bad habit.
“What would my father do if he knew you were in here telling me what to do?” The question leaves your lips with the intention of being threatening, but Bucky’s hard stare and cold expression melds into a look of mild amusement. You pick up one of the last few remaining blueberries and drop it into the plastic container, keeping your gaze steady on the cold-blooded man a few feet in front of you. You watch with masked curiosity as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his suit pants and begins rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He notices the way your eyes fixate on his black and gold arm, the way you almost seem fascinated by it. When he uses his metal hand to roll up the sleeve on his right arm, your focus shifts to the tattoos covering the majority of his flesh forearm. It isn’t your eyes that tell Bucky you like what you see. It’s the way you subtly clench your thighs together as you drop another berry into the container. You don’t shy away, you don’t move even an inch as he begins walking toward you. Even when he comes to a stop in front of you, close enough that the toes of his dress shoes are nearly touching your knees, you stay where you are. You look up at him through your lashes without tilting your head upward, refusing to move any more than just your eyes for a man that you know would take a mile if you gave him an inch.
“What would your father do if he knew you were on your knees in front of me?” He lifts his flesh hand toward your face, expecting you to flinch away or refuse his touch, but you don’t even blink as he lets his fingertips trace the curve of your jaw. He drags his fingers downward, until he’s in the right spot to curl them beneath your chin and force you to tilt your head up for him. Again, you don’t resist him. “Get out of here before someone else sees you like this.”
It isn’t at all what Bucky wanted to say to you, not even close. But it was what needed to be said. If anyone else had walked out of your father’s office and stolen the privilege of seeing you looking so pretty on your knees like that, he would’ve shot them dead right there in the kitchen. Whether it was one of your father’s men or his own, he wouldn’t have given a shit. So, Bucky lets his hand fall away from your chin, but he doesn’t step away. You reach down for the container of blueberries and grasp it in your right hand as you move to stand, keeping your eyes locked on Bucky’s the entire time. You want to shove him, to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do, especially not in your father’s home. At the same time, you wouldn’t be opposed to tracing the tattoos on his flesh forearm with your lips. What is it about this man that makes your rational mind war with the rest of your body?
            When you step around Bucky a second later, setting the container of blueberries on the island in the center of the kitchen before heading toward the stairs, he has to fight the urge to reach out and grab you. Not now, not yet. You’re not his yet. When you round the corner of the kitchen and begin tiptoeing up to your room, Bucky makes his way to the bottom of the stairs and watches you silently as you take each step. You don’t look back as you make it to the landing and turn right, disappearing behind a wall. When he hears the faint sound of your bedroom door closing, he reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants and retrieves a small silver cylinder. It sits heavy in his hand as he pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants. As Bucky screws the silencer onto the barrel of his gun, a distant voice in the back of his mind is screaming at him to be rational about this. Don’t do it. Don’t go to such insane lengths for a woman you don’t even know. Don’t spill blood on these nice mahogany floors.
            When he enters the office a few seconds later, he fires two shots. The first into the shoulder of your father’s righthand man, and the second into the thigh of the other hired gun. His face is emotionless as he steps over their bloody, writhing bodies and presses the cool metal of the silencer against your father’s temple. Bucky only has to speak one sentence to let the man know that he isn’t to be fucked with.
            “We make a deal tonight, or I make your daughter an orphan.”
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astraystayyh · 8 months
Text
Say yes to heaven
hyunjin x reader. seven minutes in heaven except you're heartbroken and hyunjin has a huge crush on you. angst and softness and slightly suggestive in the end.
cw: mention of drinking alcohol and cheating. reader has lipstick on.
part 2. say yes to me
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Hyunjin's legs are aching from sitting crisscrossed for so long. The music reverberates loudly, bouncing off the walls in Changbin's house. You are all playing truth or dare, a gathering of twenty people or something. But he isn't keeping count of anyone around. His eyes are fixated on you.
You are downing your drink, nudging Chan's side so he'd pour you another shot. He understands why you feel the need to forget, to fog up your mind until the world around you blurs. Your ex Suho, the one you had just broken up with two weeks ago, is kissing someone else, right in front of you. Hyunjin doesn't care enough to see who it is, his heart clenching at the sight of the tears brimming in your eyes.
You are hurt, rightfully so. Hyunjin never understood why you've ever dated Suho. He never cherished you, never treated you the way you were deserving of. Because you were beautiful, so beautiful it rendered Hyunjin putty in your hands. Though that was merely the surface of everything captivating about you.
The bottle is spined again, and Hyunjin's breath catches when it lands on him... Then you.
"Seven minutes in heaven!" Changbin shouts and you roll your eyes, before standing up and heading first into the closet. Hyunjin follows closely behind.
He closes the door, plunging you both into pitch darkness. Your hands find his arms suddenly, gripping them tightly.
"You okay?" he asks, concern dripping from his tone.
"It's really dark," you whisper, and Hyunjin's brows furrow further.
"We should leave," he suggests, moving to open the door but you pull him back. "No, no. Let's stay."
"But you're scared."
"It's okay. You're here."
"Is this about Suho?" Hyunjin asks tentatively, after a few silent beats, and he can hear you suck in a deep breath. He knows he just hit a sensitive chord.
"Yes."
One.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispers, placing a reassuring hand on your back.
"Save it. I won't make out with you," you reply, sudden anger lacing your words. Hyunjin understands it's just your walls being put up so he wouldn't dare peek behind them.
"I know," he says softly, and your hold on his white shirt tightens. You're both so close, his chest is almost pressed to yours. Can you hear how wildly his heart is beating?
"Fuck, I'm sorry Hyune," the nickname slips from your mouth, sweet and familiar. He missed hearing it. Missed what you had before Suho came into the picture. "I'm just really really hurt," you admit, tears glistening in your eyes.
"Do you want me to fight him? You know I would," he tries to keep his tone soft even though raw anger simmers within him.
"You don't even know what he did," you chuckle weakly and he shakes his head. "He made you cry. That's enough for me."
Two.
You stay silent, but your forehead rests on his chest, as slight tremors shake your body. Your wound was still so fresh, and seeing Suho tonight only made matters worse. But Hyunjin's body is warm, and his arms tightening around you feel safe. You think you can face your ex again if he's by your side.
"Please don't cry," he says, hands reaching up to smooth down your hair, as his chin rests atop your head. He's so gentle with you, so sweet, more than Suho has ever been in your relationship.
"I'm sorry, this isn't what you signed up for," you apologize, but you can't find it in you to pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing him nearer to you.
"It's okay. This is nicer." You can't see him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. His smile is always so pretty, and his perfume is making you dizzy. You've drunk too much.
Three.
"How have you been?" you ask, fingers drumming gently along his back. Hyunjin doesn't know how he managed to speak normally to you up until now. Not when you've intoxicated him, when all he could feel in this cramped up space was you.
"Good," he finally manages to say. "And you?"
"I'm good. I missed you," you admit, and his heart seems to pause within his chest.
"You're drunk," he dryly chuckles but you shake your head against his chest. "I know what I'm saying. I'm sorry for taking my distance these past few months. The truth is... I didn't have enough energy to be a good friend, it was draining me to deal with Suho."
"Don't apologize. There is nothing to forgive."
"You promise me?"
"I promise."
Four.
You're full-on hugging now, arms tightly intertwined around one another, and hyunjin thinks this is his heaven- to bury his head in your hair, to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.
"You smell nice," you mumble, cheek resting right across his chest. "Why is your heart beating so loud, Hyunjin?" you ask curiously, eyes closed.
Hyunjin thinks if he stays silent enough, then you'll forget you've ever asked. Because he can't bring himself to lie to you.
"You smell nice too," he settles on saying. "You look really pretty too."
"Thank you, Hyune." That damned nickname again. "I think... I think you're making my heart beat faster too," you mumble and Hyunjin shuts his eyes closed. You are killing him, stabbing him, and twisting the knife deeper inside his heart. And he's allowing it because it's you.
Five.
"Why do you think he cheated on me?" you ask, voice barely audible, and Hyunjin has to try his best not to storm out right now. He had guessed it was bad, but not this horrible.
"Don't. Don't ever think it was your fault. It wasn't. It could never be. It was his," he speaks the words firmly as if trying to drill them into your mind, erasing every wrong belief you held about yourself.
"Do you mean it?"
"I do," he leans away, cradling your face between his hands. He's so gentle. his voice and his touch and his existence. How could one be so gentle to you?
"You are everything someone would ever dream of. If I were him I would..." he cuts himself off, before saying something stupid; something that would tip the scale of your friendship.
"Finish it, finish what you were saying," you plead, voice shaky and he can't find it in himself to say no.
"If I were him, I would never let go of you. I'd do everything, anything to make myself worthy of you, of your love."
Six.
"Can I try something?" you ask tentatively, and Hyunjin feels as if the world stopped spinning around him. The outside world doesn't exist anymore, all he knows is you.
"Yes," he whispers, voice raspy, and you nod. Your shaky hands reach up to trace his face, cupping his cheeks gently. You're standing on your tippy toes, and Hyunjin can feel your breath fanning over his skin, feel goosebumps burst across his body. And then, the most tender kiss, placed on his cheek.
Your lips linger, pressing into his skin and marking it up for eternity. His hands find your sides, they're trembling, but they're warm and they feel nice to you.
You gulp, before kissing his cheek again. And then, you trail down, your lips finding the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin's knees buckle underneath him. It's too much, colorful dots cloud his vision and he hasn't even drunk anything.
Your hand curls around the nape of his hair, and then you brush your lips against his neck, slowly, deliberately, as if testing the ways in which you could drive him insane. You've succeeded, he wants to say. He's yours to do anything you want with.
Seven.
"Time's up!" Changbin's loud voice rings outside of the closet, and it snaps you both out of your haze. You stumble back, fingers brushing tentatively across your lips. It feels as if your entire body is on fire, even though your kisses were innocent, tentative. But you're feeling more than you've ever did with Suho.
"Hyunjin, I-" The door pulls open, sudden light flooding your vision. You can finally see the evidence of your kisses- crimson imprints on his cheek, trailing down his neck, giving way to a flushed chest. He's so pretty. And you've marked him up for everybody to see.
"We'll talk later, okay?" Hyunjin smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
"Okay."
Seven minutes felt like seven lifetimes for Hyunjin. And he'd live them all with you, love you in each if you'd let him. He'd do anything so you'd let him.
⁀➷✧・゚
part two
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cavillscurls · 8 months
Text
Sugar & Spice | Joel Miller x Reader
This is a follow up to Soft & Sweet. It can be read as a standalone, but it is highly encouraged to be read as a sequel!
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Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: You lose your virginity to Joel Miller.
Warnings/tags: MDNI. Foul language. Alcohol consumption. Drunken behavior. Arguing. Implied age gap (no numbers specified). Insecure Joel. Soft Joel. Loss of virginity. Reader is not clueless, just inexperienced. Praise. Dirty talk. Pet names. Joel guides reader through it. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected p in v. Mentions of pain during sex. After care. Unbearable fluff. No mentions of body type or race, except slight implication reader is shorter than Joel. Platonic Ellie x Reader.
Word count: 9.8k (i’m sorry??)
soft!joel collection masterlist.
a/n: i am so thrilled to be sharing this with y’all! i’ve been working so diligently on it, and i’m really proud of the final product. special thanks for my bea @cupofjoel for reading so many parts of this and listening to me ramble on and on about ideas. tbh, we have also decided game joel suits this story a lot better, but if you’re imagining hbo joel, he canonically has long hair for this. see pic above. ty all for all the support on part 1!
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You went on your date.
Two weeks after sharing your first kiss with Joel Miller, and you had yet to cross paths with him again. The excuse was air tight: Maria was only weeks away from labor which meant neither she nor Tommy were on the patrol routes. Times shifted, and for the next month, you and Joel would be on separate schedules. You knew it wasn’t permanent, that he would have no choice but to face you in a few weeks. But something about the way he averted from your gaze within Jackson’s wall, the quick pick up to his feet whenever you would accidentally cross paths in the town square, had your stomach in a knot.
Joel was avoiding you.
At first, the realization devastated you. You spent days cooped up in your room when you had no other necessary duties, ashamed of the tears you let stain your pillowcase. Your chest lingered with an unfamiliar ache that had once been ignited by his lips, but was now a throbbing reminder of a moment shared and lost. You pitied yourself, and it was sickening.
Then, you were angry. How dare he? Who did he think he was? Even if it was just any old run of the mill kiss, you didn’t think his respect for you would reduce that drastically. To not even acknowledge your presence? It was like a knife to the back. And after dwelling with that demon for some time, you came to realize you had two options: to face him or pretend it never happened.
The former was out of the question.
Therefore, you reduced yourself to compliance. Life couldn’t stop over a momentary lapse of judgment, and while reluctant, you decided to accept the invitation of drinks at the Tipsy Bison. Noah was nice enough; tall, slender, and dazzling hazel eyes that lit up when he smiled. You had met him at the market one afternoon, recognizing one another through a few mutual acquaintances. There were only a handful of people around your age group in Jackson, and everyone knew everyone, for the most part. It was something of a worst nightmare. But assimilating was survival, so that following Friday night, you found yourself sitting across from him in a booth towards the back of the bar, a heavy pour of vodka and seltzer water filling your glass.
Thank goodness for alcohol was what you spent most of the evening thinking. Noah was the kind man who loved to talk, mostly about himself. And while you were content on listening to get yourself through the evening, you couldn’t help but feel bored. Anxiety filled your stomach then; was this how Joel felt when you talked his ear off on patrols? 
Fuck. Why were you still thinking about him? This excursion had been a means of forgetting about him and the disappointment of his attitude towards you. But the thought of him only seemed to increase when you realized the company of the man before you was even more disheartening than Joel’s blatant rejection of you. 
You felt nothing for Noah. Not anywhere near the way you felt for Joel, seeming to burn from the inside out at the mere thought of him. 
When your date came to its natural conclusion, Noah offered to walk you home to which you quickly declined, using the excuse of needing to use the restroom and not wanting to keep him waiting so late. Truthfully, you did not want to be alone with him. The expectant connotation the idea held rubbed you the wrong way. Not like it did with Joel. You would welcome a secluded space again with him. 
As soon as you were able to convince Noah you would be fine and bid your farewells with the exchange of an awkward hug and forced smiles, you ran into the bar's bathroom, immediately seeking the sink to splash cold water over your burning cheeks. This was ridiculous, and if you couldn’t get yourself together soon, you were sure you would lose it. You stared at yourself in the mirror, scowling. Something had to give. 
Marching back out into the crowded room, you made certain Noah had left before seating yourself up at the bar and ordering another drink. Drinking alone; bleak, but effective. And by your third vodka soda, you were feeling much better. Invigorated, even.  To the point where you strode right out of the bar, a bit of an uneven waver to your step, and down the main strip of town. Impulsive and intoxicated, you decided you had every right to protect your sanity, your wellbeing, your heart. 
You were going to give Joel Miller a piece of your mind.
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Joel didn't know how badly he wanted you until he had you. 
A moment so brief, and yet, it was ingrained into the depths of his very soul. How was he supposed to have said no to you? He knew how; he was a grown ass man, and should have had more self control. He should have been more adamant in his denial of your request. Should have ended the conversation before it even started. But the moment you flashed him those somber doe eyes, he knew he was far too weak to listen to any sort of rationale. Thus, the feel of your silken soft lips buzzed on him for days to come. He had the curves of your body mapped out on his hands, even though they only touched you for a short while. And your scent. It hung around him like a cloud, a drug he got addicted to off of one hit. 
He needed to clear his head. Therefore, when Ellie asked if she could spend the night at Dina’s, Joel happily obliged. A quiet home to himself. There was nothing Joel Miller enjoyed more. 
He settled himself on the couch, keeping only the glow of a lamp on as a source of light, a glass of whiskey he had traded for in hand. He swore he would only drink it on special occasions, but the week's torment proved it necessary. Closing his eyes and leaning back against the cushions, Joel was prepared to will himself to sleep if that meant he could have a moment of reprieve, but as soon as he was beginning to find his peace, a harsh knock pounding against the front door sent him startling to attention. When it came for the second time, he jumped to his feet, pacing towards the door with visible annoyance to his wrinkled brow. 
“You’re gon’ wake up the whole damn neighborhood if you keep knockin’ so—”
He halted his surly rant when the door swung fully open, and Joel was shocked to see you standing on his front porch with a bitter look in your eyes. He breathed your name almost questioningly, as if he couldn’t believe it was actually you standing there. A figment of his imagination haunting him for how often he had thought about you over the week, entertaining the idea, for a split second, that you may not be real. 
But then, your hands were on his chest, shoving at him until he stumbled back from the doorway, and you were stomping into the house, uninvited. 
“The hell are you doin’?!” he barked at you. Joel had never witnessed such a blatant display of indignation from you, at least never directed towards him. To barge over here, unannounced, and show such clear disrespect— 
“Why are you avoiding me?!” you screeched, and his agitated expression instantly fell.
Oh. 
He saw it then, the bloodshot look in your eyes, the sweat to your brow. He could smell it, the alcohol mixed with your natural aroma he had convinced himself he could still sense around him the entire week. But now, it was here. At his doorstep. Drowning him, consuming him. 
Joel sighed heavily. “Jesus, you’re fuckin’ wasted.” Clearly, that was the wrong answer, because as soon as he said it, you were lurching after him again. But before your palms could make contact with his chest, Joel grabbed at your wrists, stopping them mid air. 
Okay, so you were an angry drunk. Great. 
“Cut it out,” he seethed, taking a step forward to tower over you. You were looking up at him fiercely, and he hated how much he loved the heated look in your eyes. He would never admit it to you, but Joel rather enjoyed your attitude. It was endearing. Cute. Whenever you went on your seemingly endless rants during your patrols together, he often found it hard to conceal the smirk that would creep onto his lips at your relentless slaughter of whoever had pissed you off lately. The tremble to your bottom lip that he noticed now, however? That he was enjoying a lot less. 
He kept your wrists in the confines of his hands when he spoke. “M’not…not avoidin’ you.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He wasn’t necessarily doing it on purpose, and the shift in patrol schedules made it an easy out. But Joel knew it wouldn’t be that simple. You were far too smart, and he respected you far too much to lie to you 
“Bullshit,” you slurred, hands balling into tiny fists against his chest. “You–you don’t even look at me. You walk away from me when you see me in town. And–and you won’t, won’t talk to me.” Your words were a sputtered mess, coming out through trembling lips that fueled tear rimmed eyes, leaving Joel to frown deeply at the sight. Oh, sad drunk was worse. So, so much worse. 
It was true, he hadn’t spoken to you once since he kissed you that day in the safehouse. The question of why was one he couldn’t seem to answer; maybe he was worried he overstepped, regardless of how adamantly you asked him to. Or even more frightening, he was afraid that you regretted it. That you may never look at him the same way again, the only partner he could even remotely imagine tolerating was now going to be taken away from him over his foolish, selfish indulgence.  
“You–you kissed me, and–and now y-you don’t want me anymore.” 
Joel’s brows furrowed instantly, and he couldn’t help himself in the way he dropped your wrists from his grip, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. He studied your tear filled eyes with an intense focus, a pain coursing through his gut at the way you looked up at him, sniffling back the growing tears. Joel had seen you cry before, but never at dealing of his own hand. It ate him alive with guilt. “Hey,” he said sternly, but calmly. That was why you were upset? So troubled over it that you got yourself drunk before coming to his doorstep to confront him? It was supposed to be easy for you to tell him things, tell him everything, but he had made you feel otherwise. More guilt. “That just ain’t true,” he whispered, catching one of the tears that cascaded down your right cheek with the pad of his thumb. 
Joel had never spent this much time so close to you. Save for the moment in the safe house and this one, he didn't think he had ever touched you. He never had any reason to. He was unprepared for how strong the urge to keep touching you was, wallowing in the hope that he never had to let go. 
“Yes, it is,” you argued shakily, your once intense tone losing its strength as you gave way to your emotions. God, he felt like a dick. Joel knew how your brain worked; you probably spent the better half of the week meticulously worrying over what you could have done wrong, when in reality, it was his own compulsions Joel was concerned about. 
“Darlin,’” he breathed, trying to keep his tone as even as possible. “You’re…not thinkin’ right, it's late, why don’t we talk about this in the mornin’?” He really didn’t want to argue with you, and if he was going to, he at least wanted to hear your thoughts in a clear state of mind. Contrary to what you may believe in the moment, Joel did give a shit about what you had to say. 
“You’re just gonna avoid me again,” you muttered, the pout to your bottom lip only increasing the sharp pain of guilt in his gut. 
“No, I won’t.” 
“Yes, you will.” 
“No,” Joel stressed, squeezing your cheeks tenderly between his hands until your lips pursed. Your tears had subsided, but the gloss over your eyes was still present. He so badly wanted to ask what he could do to soothe away your sorrow, but his attention was quickly deterred when you slumped forward with a deep huff, languidly wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face in his chest. 
Initially, Joel froze. This was…new. Despite the large step of kissing you, Joel had never embraced you. The feeling was odd, foreign. He hadn’t hugged anyone other than Ellie or his brother since, well, since the world went to shit. His hands tingled in mid air, body gone ridgid at your sudden closeness. But eventually, he willed himself to relax, trying not to overthink the moment and gradually wrapping his arms firmly around you, one at your waist, the other at your shoulders, pressing you gently into his chest. The alleviation of all his tension was instantaneous. 
“Why don’t I walk you home?” he whispered, letting his fingers paint gentle circles against your scalp. He loved how soft your hair was.  
You shook your head, still nuzzled into his chest. “Don’t wanna go home,” you muttered, and Joel felt his stomach tighten in what he could only decipher as anxiety. That pesky little pest, always gnawing at him from the inside out. 
He could tell by the heaviness to your body and the weight in your voice the alcohol was catching up to you, fatigue nearby. He contemplated the predicament for a good long while, using the time to relish in the warm and comfortable affection of your shared embrace. 
“Alright,” he replied, his voice nearly as low as yours muffled in his shirt. Joel knew it wasn’t the best idea to let you stay, but he was also quickly discovering just how difficult it was for him to deny you. You were both playing a dangerous game. 
Wordlessly, Joel led you up the stairs with one hand at the small of your back, and the other at your bicep for stability. Your steps were heavy, and he noted the way you would lift your hand every few moments to rub at your tired eyes. He couldn’t help but find it painfully adorable. 
There was no harm in you sleeping here, right? He would lead you to his bed, help you get settled, and dutifully take the couch. There, he could spend the rest of the night reeling over his questionable judgment. 
Guiding you up the stairs, Joel made sure to flicker the big light off before maneuvering you into his bedroom. He got you safely seated at the edge of the mattress before you finally gave way to your weak muscles, snorting under his breath at the way you unabashedly splayed back against the mattress, groaning and squeezing your eyes shut. He knew that feeling all too well. 
“Want somethin’ else to sleep in?” he asked, observing the undoubtedly uncomfortable jeans and white button up you’d spent your evening in. But you were already shifting on the bed, curling into a fetal position with your head nuzzled into the pillow he usually slept on. You reached for the covers, pulling them absentmindedly around your body, mumbling a nuh uh. 
Joel sighed. Well, he wasn’t going to get anywhere else with you tonight, that was certain. So instead of dragging out your consciousness any longer, he carefully approached the side of the mattress, adjusting the sheets so they laid nicely over your huddled body, gingerly swiping a strand of hair that had slid over your eyes back away from your face. He stared at you for a moment then. Even in the darkness, he could make out your soft features; long eyelashes tickling your cheeks, lips slightly parted with gentle puffs of air. He didn’t indulge himself in watching you sleep for too long, but he was a bit alarmed at just how long he could have stood there, content in observing such a mundane activity. Of course, it was only because it was you partaking in it. No one else could make dreams look as peaceful. 
He steadied his hands on the mattress, leaning down to press a ghost of a kiss to your temple. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered, leaving the door cracked just the slightest when he left the room. In case you needed him. In case you wanted him. Even if, like it had been so many times before, it was just to have someone to talk to. 
Joel didn’t know how much he missed the sound of your voice until he heard it again.
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Sharp, searing pain is what you were awoken to. Mostly behind the eyes, radiating through your skull and throbbing in a way that had you struggling to open them. But just as you were able to get a good squint, the sheer shock of your environment outweighed the pain. You shot up with a gasp, frantically looking around and grasping at the unfamiliar bed sheets until it hit you. You were not in some stranger's bed. 
This was Joel’s room. 
The scent of it alone could’ve told you so, but as you blinked away the lingering fatigue, the night came back to you in pieces. Your less than thrilling date with Noah. Your decision to drown those sorrows with some hefty drinks, which was quickly followed by the even more foolish decision to stomp your way over to Joel Miller's house and tell him off for kissing you then ignoring you for two weeks. 
Oh fuck. 
You cradled your head in your hands. What did you say? Even worse, what did you do? You were a notoriously emotional drunk, and while you couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact words you chose to give Joel, you knew they couldn’t be good. 
Immediately, you began looking around for an escape plan. You could use the window; it was the second story, but these old houses weren’t built too tall and Joel’s yard was covered in grass. Maybe he was still asleep? The front door seemed like a much less likely option. But just as you began contemplating the escape, your eyes quickly fell to the bedside table where a glass of water and a worn bottle of ibuprofen sat. Below each item was a scrap of paper that read drink me and take me, respectively. 
You felt that warmth rush into your chest again. Leaning over, you picked up the slips of paper, running your fingers over the scribbled penmanship. There was something incredibly intimate about him leaving you a handwritten note, and you couldn’t help but savor the feeling. Maybe this was proof alone that you didn’t embarrass yourself too bad last night. 
You reached over for the water and pills then, popping two into your mouth and chugging back the cool liquid when you heard the creak of the bedroom door. You froze, eyes wide over the rim of the glass as you watched it crack open, Joel’s head peeking through seconds later. 
His own brows shot to his forehead. “Oh,” he said quietly, pushing the door open the rest of the way to stand still in the doorframe. “You’re awake.” 
You quickly swallowed the rest of the water, setting the glass back on the table, and attempting to smooth back some of the hair in your face. You probably looked like a mess. Meanwhile, the morning suited Joel. You had never seen him so lax; charcoal sweatpants hanging deliciously on his hips, coupled with a black t-shirt that hugged his body a little too well. His usually tame curls were messy, and your fingers ached with the instinct to touch them. This was certainly a sight you could get used to. 
“Yeah,” you breathed, opting to fiddle with your nails below the sheets instead. “Thank you, um…thank you for taking care of me.” 
He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving you a few gentle nods. “‘Course,” was all he said, and you felt like you could scream. You couldn’t read him, couldn’t decipher the thoughts behind those intense eyes. The anticipation of his mood was almost too much to handle, and before you knew it, the incessant anxiety was taking over. 
“Joel,” you whispered after a long moment, watching the way his brows quirked at the sound of his name. And then, just like they had done so many times before, the flood gates opened. “Joel, I’m — I’m so sorry. I don’t, I don’t know what came over me. I went on that stupid date, and it was just, just awful, and I was mad at you, and didn’t know how to handle it–”  
He held up a hand to cease your prattling, and you did, shutting your mouth and opting to chew on the inside of your lip instead while you anxiously awaited his voice. 
When he dropped his hand, he sighed a heavy sigh, slowly making his way across the room to the bedside. Wordlessly, you shifted over, giving him the space to sit down at the edge of the mattress, turning over his shoulder to face you. The sudden proximity had you tensing. “If anyone should be apologizin’, it’s me.” It wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, but you didn’t interrupt. Something in the way his countenance faltered told you this kind of conversation wasn’t all that easy for Joel. 
You felt the air leave your lungs when he looked up at you through hooded eyes, the utter remorse in them palpable, honest. “You trusted me with somethin’ personal, somethin’ special, and I — I broke that trust.” Your heart ached in your chest, and you felt guilty for ever assuming he was incapable of owning up to his mistakes. “And m’sorry,” he concluded. All you could do was stare at him, trying to process his earnest apology. Even though it filled you to the brim with adoration, it still didn’t answer why he had avoided you in the first place. 
“Do you regret it?” you finally whispered, barely audible. You were afraid of the answer. “Do you…do you regret kissing me?” 
The knot returned to his brows. “What? No.” His hand was on your thigh over the blankets then, and you felt your entire body ignite in response. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “No, not at all.” 
Taking a brave leap, you carefully placed your own hand atop of his, savoring the familiar roughness. “Then why haven’t you talked to me?” The way your eyes bore into one another, you weren’t sure if you had ever looked at Joel this long. At least not while he was looking back. You thought you would be afraid of the intensity, but quite the contrary. Your bodies had shifted closer to one another on the mattress, like magnets. 
He released another heavy sigh, dropping his eyes to your touching hands. His fingers twitched the slightest bit, and you used the opportunity to slip yours between them, curling them over the top of his hand. You gave him a squeeze back. It’s okay, you wanted to tell him. You can tell me. You can talk to me. But you were patient, knowing Joel was the kind of man who needed to come to you in his own time. 
“‘Cause I– I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did,” he admitted quietly, so quietly you almost missed it. He still didn’t look at you. “And when I felt the way I did about it…I panicked. Didn’t know what the right thing to do was, didn’t know what you were thinkin’ about it all...” His words trailed, and you considered them for a long moment. 
Didn’t know what you were thinkin’ about it all. 
What were you thinking? So many things, too many to count. But right there, sitting in Joel’s bed with his hand on you, his body and breath so close, all you thought about was the good. How good you felt when he kissed you. The bad and ugly melted away with your sadness, your anger. 
“I think…” you started after a beat, your voice almost as soft as his. “I think that I haven’t stopped thinking about it for a single moment since it happened.” 
His eyes were on you again, but this time, there was questioning to them, as if he was searching for any sign that your words were less than sincere. You didn’t give him a second of doubt. Instead, you dragged his hand across your lap and settled it on your hip. He watched you intently, compliant to your ministrations. You used the opportunity to scoot forward again, his hip touching up against your thigh. 
“Yeah?” he asked, quietly. 
“Yeah,” you breathed.
Then, Joel Miller stole your second kiss, and it was just as magical as the first. 
The hand that wasn’t on your hip came to cradle the back of your neck, teasing his lips against yours with a delicate brush before giving you the feeling you craved most over the past two weeks. It bursted inside of you like a goddamn bomb, coating your belly in warmth. 
You leaned into him, gripping his arms, then his shoulders, holding yourself steady. His kiss was slow, and deep. Savoring every second of your lips. This time around, when his tongue taunted your bottom lip, you parted them. He tasted like coffee and something sweet, and you quickly found it was one of the most delectable tastes to ever touch your tongue. 
You were starting to feel hot. Still confined in the clothes you wore the night before, you became acutely aware of the situation. Alone together. In Joel’s bed. With his hands and lips on you. You wanted to feel him everywhere all at once. 
“Joel,” you sang during a brief break of air, nails digging into his shirt. He continued to steal quaint kisses, only humming in response. You snuck one of your hands up into his hair, mimicking his hold on you. “I need you…I need you to touch me.”  
This seemed to get his attention. He stilled, pulling back only enough for his nose to bump yours. Dark, brown, beautiful eyes blown wide to study you. 
“Darlin’,” he whispered, giving your hip a tender squeeze. “We shouldn’t, I mean, I—you’re—”
You knew what he was insinuating. You didn’t have to say it out loud for Joel to assume. 
You’re a virgin. 
“I don’t care,” you rushed out despite the bubbling anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It had to happen eventually, why not now? Why not with Joel? 
You saw him bite at his bottom lip, his gaze ravenous even in the midst of his hesitancy. “I just…I wanna make sure you know what you’re askin’ for.” 
“Tell me,” you whispered against his lips breathlessly, tugging at his curls to keep him close. “Tell me you feel nothing for me, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop pushing it.” 
Joel groaned, the kind that suggested the frustrating restraint of desire. “You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.” You knew. God, you knew, but that didn’t stop the rush of heat from darting to your core when he admitted it.  
“Then please,” you begged, slinking your arms fully around his shoulders to pull yourself up. You hovered over him, lips barely dancing atop of his. “Please touch me, Joel.” 
There were a few more beats of reservation until he simply couldn’t help himself any longer. He stood from the bed, bringing you to your knees with him at the edge of the mattress. Your hands never left him, engulfing yourself fully around his neck, his own steady at your waist, holding onto it for dear life. Then, he was kissing you again with an increased intensity that knocked the wind out of you. 
Everything suddenly became overwhelming, the heightened awareness of your body and the way he maneuvered it foreign and exciting. You were unable to mask the whimper that escaped you when his lips abandoned yours for your jaw, your neck, finding a deliciously sensitive spot at the base of your throat and sucking on it gingerly. Your head lulled back in a daze, and you felt his hands slip under the hem of your button up, tickling at the skin of your sides.
“You’re so goddamn soft,” he muttered into the crook of your neck, his hands traveling further forward until they were toying with the buttons on your shirt. “Can I take this off, darlin’?” 
You nodded frantically, unable to quite find your voice. You scooted back a bit, giving him space to manipulate his fingers down the front of your shirt, carefully popping each button. When the fabric fell open, Joel seethed a shit under his breath. You weren’t wearing a bra, the cool air peaking your nipples. You felt the heat rising on your skin at the way his eyes took in every inch of you, careful fingers pushing back the collar until the shirt slipped off your shoulders.  
No man had ever seen you naked. Well, not purposefully. With the group you traveled with before you ended up in Jackson, it was inevitable to reveal yourself a time or two, changing or bathing in such close quarters. You thought you would be bashful, maybe even uncomfortable. But with the way Joel was looking at you, eyes full of nothing but careful adoration, you felt exhilarated. 
“Lay back, babygirl,” Joel instructed softly, the new pet name making your heart flutter in your chest. You obeyed his wish, carefully shuffling yourself until you could lay your head back onto his pillows, watchful eyes following him as he sauntered over to the end of the mattress. 
He moved with such diligence, a man of many years who seemed to have perfected just living in the beautiful state he inhabited. You watched him with the same intensity as he rid himself of his own shirt, revealing his sturdy chest and plush belly. Your mouth watered with anticipation when the mattress dipped, Joel crawling up the empty space to settle himself between your legs. 
Bare chest to chest, your skin was on fire. You looked up at him wide eyed, suddenly in a suspension of disbelief. This was happening. Really happening. The fantasies you had worked so diligently to shove deep down inside you manifesting before your eyes; you would have been content to never see them flourish, as having Joel Miller by your side in any shape or form was a reward, but this? This was so much better. 
He leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to your parted lips. “You okay?” His forearms rested on either side of your head, and when you nodded, he brought a single hand down to toy with the strands of hair at your temple. “If we’re gonna go any further, I need you to talk to me, darlin’. Think you can do that?” 
You nodded again, and he gave you a knowing look, a small smirk quirking up on his lips. “Sorry,” you squeaked. “Yes…yes, I-I can do that.” 
Talking. Talking was good. Nerves were inevitable, and hearing Joel’s voice would soothe you through it. Dampen the fears, the inexperience, the insecurities. 
“And if you want me to stop,” he continued, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses littered your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts where they ghosted over your nipples, aching for attention. “Understand?” His lips wrapped around one of them then, and you arched off the mattress with a gasp. 
“Y-yes,” you mewled. Maybe talking was going to be much more difficult than you expected. “I-I understand, Joel.” 
“Good girl,” he praised softly, and good god if it didn’t shoot straight to your core, which you were now vividly aware was pressed up against the growing outline in his sweatpants.
He continued his descent, gracing your skin with his feathery kisses and stopping just short of the waistband of your jeans. The discomfort from sleeping in them was quickly replaced by the discomfort below them. You were dripping. 
“Do you touch yourself, pretty girl?” Joel whispered against the skin below your belly button, bringing a hand down to slowly undo the buttons on your jeans. “When you’re all alone, do you make yourself feel good?” 
You had your arms splayed to either side of you, unsure of where to touch, to grab, fingers balled into fists. His question alone drew another whimper from you, and you heard the zipper on your pants go down. 
“Yes,” you answered honestly. You had done your fair share of exploration over the years, always in private, and always just enough to get you over the edge so many seemed to talk so highly about. But you never felt this hot with your own hands.
Joel hummed in approval. “Good. That’s good. Lift up—” he said, giving your thighs a light tap. You lifted your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assisted him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he was back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settled further down the mattress. His face was inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier. 
“And when you touch yourself,” he continued, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You could feel his hot breath through your panties, and it made you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?” 
The subject matter was crude at its core, but something about the words coming off Joel’s lips made them sound completely earnest. Like he wanted to know, needed to know. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last without his attention where you needed it most. 
“Two. Sometimes, maybe three, but I like—” Your chest heated with embarrassment. You had spoken so openly about so many things with Joel over your months as partners, but never anything like this. 
His brows perked up in interest from between your legs, continuing the teasing caresses of your thighs. “What, darlin’?” He placed a kiss on the inside of your left thigh, and you could’ve sworn you saw stars. “What do you like? You can tell me.” 
Your breath was no longer your own, heaving uncontrollably. Sweat rolling on your temples. He certainly knew how to work you up.
You bit your bottom lip. “I like…I like to rub my clit,” you whispered, wincing at the way the vulgar words sounded coming out of your mouth. But Joel practically growled below you, eyes closing momentarily. 
He leaned forward, breathing in your core and running his nose along the patch of dampness. That was when your hands abandoned the sheets, instinctively coming up to grab at his curls. “Oh, baby,” he hummed, hands leaving your thighs to curl his fingers into the waistband of your panties. “Yeah, I can do that. Promise to take real good care of you.” 
And you believed him, which had you wasting little time in lifting your hips again, allowing him to strip you of your last piece of clothing. He took a moment to rake his eyes over you before leaning back down, your glistening center clenching around nothing as the cold air tickled the flesh. 
“So beautiful,” he murmured, guiding the crux of your knees over either shoulder. 
You were fully exposed to this man, for the first time ever to the eyes of another, and yet, you had never felt more exhilarated. You wondered if that was simply because it was Joel. No one else in this fucked up world could make you feel so comfortable as to bare your heart, soul, and body to them. 
“Joel, please,” you begged again, this time, giving a bold tug to his hair. “Please.” You needed something, anything he would provide you. 
He didn’t keep you in anticipation much longer.  He wetted his lips before his head dipped between your legs, warm tongue licking a slow strip across your outer lips, all the way up to your clit that stood taut, moving the tip of his tongue in calculated flicks. 
“Oh, fuck!” you shrieked, eyes screwing shut and hips bucking up off the mattress. Joel was quick to combat this, sturdy hands gripping you by the hips and bringing you back down to earth while he paid mindful attention to your swollen clit, just like you asked him to. 
But it was much different having someone’s mouth on you. Joel’s mouth. The familiar coil in your belly built much quicker while he suckled on the sensitive bud. “Joel,” you moaned, to which he hummed in response, sending the most delectable vibrations through you. “More. Your fingers, please.” 
He never took his lips off of you when you felt the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sunk his two digits in, the stretch was satisfying. The way he worked up your arousal aiding in how easy it was to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. 
You couldn’t quite process it; the attentiveness, how effortless it was for him to listen to your needs. Word of mouth had given you a low standard of expectation for your first experience, but something told you Joel would exceed every string of disappointment. 
He began to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head. You were singing his name like a prayer, the only word you could find as your abdomen tightened, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs. You craned your neck up from the pillows, compelling yourself to find the image of him nestled between your thighs. And fuck, was it glorious. His hooded eyes were already on you, pupils blown wide, breathing frantically through his nose while his lips continued their ambush on you. You quickly brushed the stray curls from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw fell slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you. At first, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Joel kept working his tongue over your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flung back, thighs clamped around his head, and a lewd moan echoed off your lips. Thank god no one else was home, as you were pretty sure the neighbors could hear how good Joel Miller was making you feel. 
“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” You were a sputtering mess while he teetered you towards overstimulation, but soon enough, his sucking turned to gentle kisses, and his fingers slowed their assault. When he dragged them out of you, you could hear the sound of your slick. And when you finally had the energy to peer down at him, you could see his patchy beard covered in it, too. But Joel was as much a taker as a giver it seemed, for when he pulled his face away from between your thighs, you watched him bring the glistening digits up to his lips and suck them clean. 
He grinned down at you when he popped them out of his mouth. “So damn sweet, darlin’.” This had you giggling, a mixture of inevitable embarrassment and bliss. You brought your hands up tiredly to cover your heated cheeks, but Joel was having none of it. He dragged them down, replacing them with peppered kisses to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until he landed on your lips, joining in on the soft laughter between each peck.
It was cathartic. Sharing in such joy after a moment of such intensity. You had always thought sex needed to be this serious, meticulous act. That didn’t seem to be the case with Joel; he was the same him, you were the same you. And that was enough. 
Hovering above you again, you wrapped your still shaky legs around his hips. His hands were back at your hairline, now doused in sweat, carefully pushing back the pieces that stuck to your skin. 
“You okay?” he asked softly. 
You nodded. “Yes.” You snaked a hand in between the two of you, mimicking his soft caresses to the saturated patches of hair on his jaw. “More than okay.” 
You were fucking incredible. On cloud nine, in fact. Every worry of the day, week, month seemingly lost to the euphoria that was Joel’s hands on you. 
“We can stop at any time if it’s gettin’ too much,” he reminded you, and you knew the terse look in his eye came from nowhere else but concern. 
Your brows pulled over your eyes, pouting up at him. “I don’t wanna stop,” you muttered, tracing your finger over his jawline. “Do you want to stop?”  
“No, fuck. No, sweetheart, ‘course I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you. “I just want you to know that even if we don’t go all the way…that doesn't make this a failure.” 
You could’ve cried right then and there. This man. This stoic, brooding man who you had spent so much time avoiding your feelings for might have been the sweetest, gentlest man you had ever encountered underneath all of that heavy armor he insisted on carrying. You wanted to help him with the weight, take as much of it as you could muster onto your shoulders, and free him of his worries and pain. 
You took a deep breath, swallowing back the lump in your throat and bringing both hands up to cradle his cheeks. He looked you in the eye, focused. “I want to feel this with you,” you spoke softly, never faltering from his deep gaze. “I trust you, Joel. With everything I have.” 
Taking a leap of faith, you trailed your hands from his cheeks all the way down his torso until your fingers fiddled with the tie on his sweatpants. You gave it a tug, letting the stings fall open. He watched you, and when he felt the still of your hands, took it upon himself to slowly peel back, shuffling to the edge of the mattress to rid himself of his pants. 
When they hit the floor, your lips parted in a sharp inhale. Joel Miller carried every trait of a man who was well endowed, but to see the sacred part of him up close was an entirely different experience than imagining it. Thick and already leaking with precum, you were enamored by the dark vein that ran along the underside of his cock, standing proud and eager against his lower stomach. You tried not to let your eyes linger on it too long when he crawled back up to you, settling between your legs. You felt another rush of arousal when his warm cock laid up against your core. 
“I’m a little nervous,” you whispered, scared that if you admitted it too loud, he would change his mind. 
That couldn’t be further from the truth; you knew so when he graced you with that subtle, doting smile. The kind that just reached his eyes enough for you to see the little crinkles at the edges. 
“I know, baby, but I promise I’ve got ya. It’s just you and me, okay?” You nodded slowly, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion again. Your eyes glistened, the tenderness of his voice healing something deep inside you. “If we’re bein’ honest, I’m a little nervous too.” His grin only increased upon your reaction, looking up at him as if that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “S’been a long time for me.” 
Oh. You suppose you never thought about it that way. You gave way to the moment, leaning up to press a quaint kiss to his lips. “You and me,” you echoed his words and his smile. 
He returned the gentle kiss. “Hold on to me,” he instructed, and you brought your arms back around his neck, keeping him close. He reached between your bodies, and you felt the tip of his cock run across your awaiting folds. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, tensing in anticipation. “Relax, baby. S’gonna feel a lot better if you try to relax.” 
You heeded his warning, taking in a deep inhale through your nose and out through your mouth. “Go slow, please,” you whimpered. His forehead touched yours when he nodded. 
“I will,” he promised, nudging the tip of him against your hole, still slick with arousal. And you were grateful for it when he notched himself inside of you, eliciting a gasp from the both of you. 
You knew it was just the tip of him, but that didn’t stop your eyes from rolling back. Warm and firm, nestling perfectly inside of you. You welcomed the intrusion, continuing to focus on your breathing. “A little more,” you urged him, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of neck. Joel was panting right along with you, and despite the growing lust, kept his promise of taking it slow. He guided himself an inch further, then another, another, until you were digging your nails into his scalp, a whine coming through gritted teeth. 
The stretch stung, but his pace kept it bearable. You did your best to stay perfectly still, worrying if you moved too much any way, the pain would worsen. Tears began to prickle at your waterline, a combination of discomfort and every overwhelming emotion coursing through you. 
“That’s it, sweet girl,” he praised, lips tickling the shell of your ear. “You’re doin’ so good for me. So, so good.” 
His genuine words made you want to do better, sending little flutters through your stomach. It was astonishing the way his words alone could inflict such a response from you. 
After a moment, you were able to relax into the intrusion. Eyes still shut, you nudged your nose up against his. “Just…just do the rest all at once,” you squeaked. The sooner, the better. Dragging it out would only elongate the process of getting it over with, and you couldn’t wait any longer to cross the threshold. He was still for a moment, and then, placing a steadying hand on one of your hips, Joel sheathed himself fully inside of you, filling you to the brim. 
Your lips fell open in a wail, the tears that lingered at your eyes falling over your cheeks. Joel’s delicate lips were on your neck, leaving kisses and whispering words of encouragement. 
“M’gonna stay just like this for a minute,” he said after a moment, your walls involuntarily fluttering around him, getting use to the sheer size of him. With every passing moment, you willed yourself to unwind, focusing on the sound of Joel’s breathing. 
You took your time, only opening your eyes when you really felt ready. You found Joel had lifted his head from your neck, already looking at you with tender concern. “It’s okay,” you panted, nodding slowly, sniffling back the tears. “I’m…it’s not so bad.” It was only then that you realized how full you felt, full of Joel. He was reaching a depth of you otherwise untouched, the thought alone having you clench around him. 
He grunted, and you noted the twitch of restraint in his focused brow. “You can move,” you said, bringing a shaky hand up to push the sweat-clad curls off his forehead. 
He looked at you hesitantly. “Are you sure—”
“Joel,” you hummed, carefully tilting your hips up, inviting him in. Another shared gasp. “Please.” 
The thrusts began as gentle rocks of his hips, never pulling too far in or out, just enough to explore the feeling of him moving inside of you. The pain was no longer the instigator of your tears — it was the intensity of Joel’s eyes, looking down at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. 
Then, he was grinding into you in languid strokes, the sound of slick skin singing in the air. Gradually, you got used to the fullness, anticipating it every time he would pull out of you before advancing forward. Soft grunts fell from Joel’s lips when he’d hit the deep spot inside of you, something about the sounds he made sending shivers down your spine. 
But the real pleasure came when he reached a hand between your conjoined bodies, finding your neglected clit, and circling the two of his fingers around it. 
The moan that fell from your lips was obscene. Oh. Oh, this was new. Suddenly, the pain was a dampened after thought; the feeling of fullness mixed with the sensation of his fingers rubbing at your sensitive bud sent your body alight. You didn’t even notice how vocal you had become, wanton whines and increased panting, until you felt Joel’s lips at your ear again. 
“Yeah?” he muttered, his voice dropping an octave. “That feelin’ good baby?” 
So good. Oh, it was so fucking good. You wanted to tell him, scream it at the top of your lungs, but your voice was caught in your throat, too overwhelmed by the newfound ecstasy. Your ankles had mindlessly latched around his back, too hellbent on keeping him deep inside of you to let go. 
When the circling of his fingers picked up, so did his thrusts. The weight of his heavy balls slapped against you, nestling up into the same spot his fingers found earlier, leaving you to arch off the mattress. 
“Fuck, darlin’,” he growled, teeth grazing your carotid. “You feel so fuckin’ good around me.” 
You were a whimpering mess, legs starting to tremble again around him. “More, Joel,” you breathed, not even quite sure what more of you were asking for. “P-please, I need more.” 
He seemed to understand, because before you knew it, he was rutting into you quicker, deeper. The curve of his cock worked into you, somehow finding the right spot inside of you every single time. Your body moved on its own violation, hips grinding upwards to meet him in the middle of every thrust. The litany of your moans and his grunts sung through the air like sweet music, and you thought you may have never experienced life before the way you did in that moment; body and mind completely consumed by another, this feeling forever Joel’s to give you for the first time. 
You were burning from the inside out, unable to keep up with the way your body gave way to the pure euphoria coursing through you, until the pressure in your belly was too much to bear. Your toes curled, legs trembled so hard that they fell limp around him, a fire traveling through you from your point of connection. 
“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck — uungh — Joel—!”
He held you through the entirety of your second release, stronger than any you had ever experienced. You clenched around him feverishly, coating his swelling cock in your honey. Your head thrown back, you felt the tickle of his hair against your neck as he buried his face into the crook, the sputter of his hips growing sloppy as you milked him towards the edge. You weren’t even down from the high when his hand abandoned your clit, quickly pulling himself out of you and giving himself a few steady pumps. You opened your eyes just in time to see the way his lips fell apart and his face contorted in beautiful bliss before he was spilling himself onto your stomach. 
You had low expectations for your first time, always had. The idea of finishing not even a pressure you bothered to burden yourself with. It would be easier to pretend it was something magical, extraordinary. A fluke, even. But the truth was…it was just Joel. 
You and me. 
His words continued to ring true. And when you both settled your breathing, finding each other again in the exchange of wide, wondrous eyes, you slowly fell back into the soft fit of laughter. Pure contentment. A happiness long abandoned to a world that robbed you of any glimpse of achieving it. 
When he kissed you then, soft and sweet, you knew he felt it too.
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The rest of the morning was spent in a domestic stupor. You spent a good chunk of time basking in each other's arms, curled up against Joel’s chest, tracing the shape of every scar you could find. You didn’t press him for their backstories, instead, choosing to admire the character and history they gave him. 
When you both finally found the strength to get up, he suggested a shower. At first, he was content to let you go alone, offering to take one after. But the glint in your eye and the pout at your lip told him you had other plans, and soon enough, you were both crammed into the small space. It didn’t bother you, giving you ample excuse to have your arms around him and feel his hands on you. 
He washed your hair, the soothing circles of his fingers nearly aiding you back to sleep right then and there. Of course, he was stubborn in letting you return the favor, so you settled for a gentle massage to his shoulders while he worked his fingers through his curls. 
He offered you some of his clothes, considering yours reeked of alcohol and sweat from the night prior. One of his flannels and clean pair of sweatpants, which you rolled up to avoid tripping over. 
He graciously invited you downstairs, offering to whip up some breakfast and get a pot of coffee started. There was something undeniably sexy about Joel in such a casual setting. You had never spent this much time in his house, normally only stopping by for a brief moment to pick up something you had left behind on patrol or drop off a menial item Ellie asked to borrow. 
The air was different now. Something palpable shifting, and it was equal parts frightening and exhilarating. You felt like you were glowing.
You had so many questions. So many doubts. Hopes. Afraid that if you pushed them too soon, you would risk the chance of losing an opportunity for something altogether. So you kept your mouth shut, opting to sit atop the counter next to the stovetop while Joel cooked, savoring the scent of brewing coffee and freshly washed hair. 
When the pot dinged, Joel reached in the cupboards for two mugs, and just as he poured yours, handing it to you, the front door slammed open then shut. You both froze. 
“I’m home!” Ellie’s voice shrieked, followed by the sound of her shuffling about and approaching footsteps. 
“Shit,” Joel muttered quietly under his breath, bracing a hand against the counter. You turned your head towards the kitchen entryway just as she approached it, the guiltiest look on both of your faces. 
The thud of her backpack hit the wooden floor, and as soon as she looked up, her eyes began to process the sight before her. She fluttered her gaze between the two of you, damp haired, disheveled clothes, tired eyes. Not even a beat later, a brazen grin spread across her cheeks. 
“Well, well, well,” she tsked slowly, folding her arms across her chest. You bit at the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing, maybe crying? Both. You could see Joel going rigid in your peripheral, knuckles white against his own coffee mug. 
“Looks like I’m not the only one who had a slumber party.” 
You literally snorted out a laugh, immediately bringing your hand up to smack over your mouth and nose at the sound. 
“Ellie!” Joel barked, but the teenager remained unfazed. She flashed you her knowing smirk before her eyes were back on Joel in torment. 
“What?!” she feigned innocence. “I’m just sayin’, it’s about fucking time you two stopped dancing around each other. It was painful to watch, seriously.” 
“Oh my god.” When you looked over to Joel, his face was bright red, jaw set tense while he glared at the girl in plain irritation. You couldn’t help but find it utterly adorable and quite amusing. “Would’ya just…just go to your damn room or somethin’?” 
Ellie simply continued her coy stare while she leaned down to pick up her pack, slinging it over her shoulder. She turned to you then, putting on her best polite facade and bidding you a proper good morning, to which you returned, both quite giggly. Just before she slipped out of the room, she stopped short, peeking her head back in. 
“Oh, hey,” she chirped towards you. “They’re showing a new tape in the barn later. And this one —” she gave Joel an aggressive point, “has patrol duty. You wanna come with me instead?” 
You had experienced your fair share of activities with Ellie. You were friends. The age difference could not diminish the joy the girl brought to you and so many others in Jackson; she was a firecracker, reminding you a bit of yourself at that age. A breath of fresh air to the community after months of stiffs who had nothing better to do than gossip or stir up trouble. 
And yet, the nonchalance of her invitation — as if it was the clearest thing in the world to her in that moment, that embarrassing, unexpected moment — made your heart swell. 
You smiled back at her, nodding. “I’d love to.” You would love to spend time with Ellie. Joel’s Ellie. Undoubtedly the most important thing in the world to him, and she wanted to share her evening with you. 
As she puttered out of the room, you waited until you heard her door shut upstairs before your eyes were back on Joel. His own were an array of annoyance and embarrassment, to which you returned with a reassuring smile. 
He went on to mutter something about that kid being the death of him, and you let him. Let him grump away as he continued the breakfast preparations, otherwise casual over the intrusion. He wasn’t ashamed that she saw you, caught you both like this. The realization of it all consumed you rather rapidly. As you watched him tend to you in his kitchen, his home, you felt a bit of that worry dissipate into more hope. 
And for the first time since Joel Miller came into your life, you could truly imagine what it would be like to be his.
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maroon-cardigan · 4 months
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THE LUCKY ONES | steve harrington x fem!reader
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summary: every december you try to forget what happened in christmas 1976, when your parents didn’t show up to pick you up from boarding school and you had to spend the holidays at the harrington’s. steve and you were too young back then to understand the curse that ran through your veins, but eight years later, temptation knocks on your door, and you find yourself fucking the one guy you would’ve never fucked.
oldmoney!steve x oldmoney!reader | enemies with benefits | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type of body type.
word count: 23.5k
warnings: this one shot and my blog are +18, minors do not interact. NSFW. christmas angsty smut, basically. mentions of alcoholism & miscarriage, reader and steve got family issues but there’s no violence. hate fucking, kinda mean!steve but also mean!reader (i love a balanced dynamic). public sex. fingering, finger licking, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving). use of good girl, spoiled brat, etc. but no degradation.
author’s note: hello ♡ this one shot is my favourite thing i’ve written for this blog so far, and I’m so proud of it !!! this is shamelessly inspired on gossip girl & sooo lana del rey coded. please forgive my basic understanding of american geography. this is a repost, because i had some problems with the tags, so i tagged everyone who interacted with the first post at the end.
masterlist
[dividers by @benkeibear & @cafekitsune]
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THE LUCKY ONES ♡
People did this kind of thing when they were drunk. Or high. Or worse, people did this kind of thing when they were needy. Not you, though. Never you.
That’s what you thought after the first time you had sex with Steve, wondering what had taken you to fuck the one guy you’d never fuck. Because you couldn’t stand Steve Harrington, and he couldn’t stand you. Yet it seemed like that mutual aversion was what kept you two orbiting around each other after all these years, until the inevitable collision happened.
There was a time where things were different, though. When you were a kid, you almost became Steve Harrington’s friend. You would even dare to say, he was your friend once, the year you had the loneliest Christmas of your life.
DECEMBER 1976.
You had been looking at your shoes for the last couple of hours. Shiny little loafers that your mom got you on your last trip to New York. The Sales Assistant that helped you had smiled at you as you put them on.
‘Every girl, no matter how young or old, deserves some Prada.’ She said.
You smiled back while standing up on your little feet. You walked a straight line, feeling the eyes of your mother on you before you looked back and made an exaggerated pose, making her laugh.
‘I’ll take those as well.’ She said to the girl behind the counter.
On the way out she let you carry the bag with the shoebox inside. She lent you her sunglasses, shiny and black sitting on the top of your little head between your pigtails. In the taxi, you fell asleep on top of her fluffy red coat that smelled like her. It was a good trip.
That’s how you knew something was wrong. Your parents would never forget you at school, specially not on Christmas Eve. The housemistress had helped you pack the day before knowing that your mom would pick you up in the morning. But it was almost noon, and you were still at the dinner hall, sitting all alone waiting for her.
You looked up at the lovely lights of the chandelier above you, short legs hanging from the bench you were sitting on and sight blurry as you convinced yourself that they had abandoned you, and now you’d be spending Christmas with the kids whose parents were too busy working to care about them. That wasn’t you. That had never been you.
The clicking of a pair of heels caught your attention then. A tall, lovely woman of feathered hair wearing a red suit smiled at you. She was beautiful. She was kind. She made you feel safe.
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You said standing up. You weren’t going to cry in front of your parents’ friend, that would’ve been impolite.
‘There you are, sweet thing.’ She said opening her arms when she stood in front of you. You took a few hesitant steps towards her before she embraced you in a hug. Blinking many times and impressed at her warmth, you inhaled her sweet perfume.
Only then you saw him next to her. A little polo under a sweater, hands in his pockets, black hair almost reaching his shoulders. You couldn’t help but blush.
‘Your parents asked me to come pick you up.’ She said breaking the hug. Her warm eyes looked back at you as she stood, leaning to be at the same eye level as you. Her fingers brushed your bangs, removing the hair off your face. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us.’
You knew something was wrong, but you thought it wouldn’t be polite to ask Mrs. Harrington what it was. You walked in your little loafers looking around the Harrington’s house, observing the green and red decorations.
The mansion filled you with a strange sense of sadness, the living room you stood in too similar to the one you wished you were in. You missed home, the voices of the staff saying hello miss whenever you walked in, everyone ready to hug you. There was nothing like that here.
‘I don’t have any dolls.’ You heard him say behind you. You turned around to find Steve with a basket full of toys. ‘But I’ve got dinosaurs.’
You looked at the basket before looking back at him, and he almost got scared at the line that adorned your lips. Steve thought sometimes being with you was like being with the adults. He had hoped that the toys might change your mood.
‘I like dinosaurs.’ You said quietly, sitting on the rug as he imitated you.
‘…Haven’t really spoken to her since then.’ You heard someone murmur.
Steve was making explosion noises next to you, two toys on each hand as he played, and you tried to hear what Mrs. Harrington was saying. From where you were, you could only see her heels, legs crossed as the back of the armchair she was sitting on faced you, and the telephone cord being wrapped and unwrapped by her manicured hand.
‘No. Of course not. She deserves a lovely Christmas.’ She said. ‘Only ten years old, can you imagine? She’s just a baby.’
You frowned at the words of Steve’s mother; certain that she was talking about you.
‘Are you ok–’ You put a hand on his mouth, placing your index finger over yours. Steve simply nodded, the contact of your hand on his skin making his cheeks hot.
Mrs. Harrington sighed.
‘I don’t know. I think he made the decision. And good for him, but he didn’t tell her anything. He just left her a note saying he was leaving her to go to rehab. She’s dealing with the press now.’
You stood up then, walking to the other side of the armchair to face her. Mrs. Harrington jumped at the sight of your little frame; eyes too young to be hiding such darkness behind them.
‘Oh, sweetie!’ She said. ‘K-Karen, I’ll call you later, okay? Or I’ll see you tomorrow either way. Y-Yes. Yes, see you later.’
She hung the phone and gave you a reassuring smile, but you could see the way her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, nervous by the sudden interruption.
‘Are my parents getting a divorce?’ You said.
She had to blink a couple of times before standing up, swallowing hard and rubbing her hands against her lap as she stood in front of you.
‘Stevie.’ She put her hands on your shoulders to walk you back to where Steve was playing. Her skin was freezing. ‘Can you prepare a bath for our little guest? Just how I taught you, please. I’m sure she’s had a long day, haven’t you, sweetie?’
You looked up at her behind you. Calm smile, beautiful face and sweet perfume. You couldn’t help but notice what a tense woman Mrs. Harrington was.
You were leaning against the frame of the bathroom’s door as Steve emptied a bottle of a pink liquid in the bathtub.
‘This is my favorite one.’ He said. ‘It’s got stars in it.’
That interested you, lifting your head subtly to look at the shiny bubbles growing at the bottom of the tub, little glittery stars mixing with the water.
‘That’s cool.’
Steve’s eyes lit up at your comment, smiling at you. You had forgotten how cute he was, looking at the way he had to roll the bottom of his jeans because they were too big for him.
You closed the lid of the toilet to sit on top of it, looking at the way the iridescent bubbles started to rise, and the water turned pink. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your chin on your hands, just like you would if a teacher asked you a question you didn’t know the answer for. You were thinking about your mom, wanting to hear her voice and wondering if Mrs. Harrington would let you call her.
Steve remembered something then. He walked out of the toilet, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a few minutes while the sound of the water running filled the silence.
‘I got you these.’
He walked inside the toilet again, a pink towel on one hand and a teddy bear on the other. You smiled, realising how bad you missed your own toys back at home, wondering if they’d miss you too.
You grabbed the teddy bear first, a patchwork pink thing you hugged hard against your ribs. Steve observed you, leaving the towel on the little step next to the bathtub, black strands of hair falling on his forehead. You thought he looked like one of those boys on the covers of your mom’s music records.
‘Why do you have girl stuff?’ You asked then.
Steve shrugged. ‘It was for my sisters. Mom says she lost them, but I’m not really sure how you can lose a kid.’ There was a silence between you two as you both frowned. ‘No one uses them.’
‘Maybe my parents lost me and that’s why I’m here. With you.’ You said.
‘Maybe.’
When the water almost reached the top of the bathtub and the pink bubbles were like a giant mountain of foam, Steve closed the tap. You waited until you heard the noise of his steps walking down the stairs to lock the door, take your clothes off and get inside.
You hugged your knees inside the pink pool of bubbles, pulse slowing down and muscles relaxing. And for the first time in that strange day, you felt really safe. Cared for. Important.
You walked out wearing your pink pyjamas, it wasn’t until you put them on that you remembered that tomorrow was Christmas day. The hallway was silent in a scary way, long and big in a house you didn’t know very well.
‘Steve?’ You whispered. But there was no answer. No sound.
Except for one subtle thing.
The room was dark when you stood outside of it. The texture of the carpet warm under your bare feet as you pushed the door slightly.
She was on the other side.
Mrs. Harrington still looked beautiful with her mascara running down her cheeks, and her eyes lost on the flames of the fireplace. She took the bottle to her lips, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxed as she swallowed. You knew what the liquid in it smelled like, because you had smelled it on your dad’s breath too many times before.
You didn’t remember who took you to bed, but you slept next to Steve that night. What you did remember were his rocket pyjamas, and the way he moved next to you all night because he was too excited about the presents under the tree.
You remembered how he said your name when he woke you up the next day and the excitement on your chest as he did, heart beating fast against your ribs. He didn’t have any siblings, neither did you. This was the closest thing to it that you both had ever experienced.
You remembered how every present you had asked Santa for was under the tree. And you remembered Mrs. Harrington’s eyes on you as you opened them while her husband sat next to her. Mascara in place and feathered hair framing her beautiful face. She was smiling.
A car came to pick you up on the day after Christmas. Steve would never forget the relief in your face when his mom announced you were going home from the living room, and the disappointment he felt. He didn’t forget your little hand waving at him from the backseat of the black vehicle as the snow fell outside the house. Or your pretty smile as you wore the outfit his mom had picked for you that morning. He would never forget the way her eyes lit up as she brushed your hair in front of her vanity mirror while he sat down on his parents’ bed. She looked happy.
You had made their Christmas better. And Steve knew then what he had to do to keep his mom as happy as she was when you were here.
He had to ask for a sister.
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You could’ve been friends after that, right? Maybe. Or maybe not.
You were taken back to an empty house. In the next weeks you spent all day surrounded by the staff that took care of the house. By the time you understood what was happening you had to pack your things and go back to school.
Your dad had gone to rehab while your mother had to handle it all by herself: the press trying to destroy him, and the multi-millionaire business generations of your family had worked on. The investors. Your grandmother blaming it all on her. She did it all looking as glamourous as always, and you didn’t know this by the letters she sent you, but by the pictures of her you saw on the newspapers and magazines while she travelled, and you stayed at school. Alone. All of that just so she would divorce him right after he went out.
You grew up in a public mess. But you weren’t the only one. Stevie turned into Steve, a boy who ignored you on the first week of January 1977. He came back with an arrogant frown on his face and a loneliness in his eyes that you had only seen on grownups.
Sometimes you spotted him in between the mess of uniforms in the campus, but you were growing up now, and girls like you didn’t beg anyone to be friends with them. So, you forgot him. And in your absence Steve turned into King Steve, son of Roger and Martha Harrington, descendant of a long line of successful and renowned corporate lawyers in the country. Known by his popularity, his wild parties and his inability to keep his dick in his pants.
So, people changed. Sometimes for the worse, like Steve. Sometimes for the better, like your dad.
That didn’t mean you were exempt from catastrophe. Sometimes people screwed up. You, more than anyone, knew that when temptation knocked on the door, you and Steve were prone to welcome it. It ran in your blood anyways.
It all started the last Friday of November.
26 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Parent conferences never made you nervous. Not because of your grades, but because it was more about the parents than the kids. You knew your mother would have a little chat with your teacher, go to the dinner hall to have a couple of drinks with some of your friends’ mothers and later in the evening knock on your door to ask you if you wanted to spend the weekend at hers. Easy.
That’s why you froze on the spot when you walked inside the classroom to find your dad sitting on one of the desks, talking to Robin Buckley’s mom. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you standing with your lips opened in surprise. Something hit you on the shoulder, making you blink many times before you saw Steve Harrington’s silhouette walk past you, not even looking behind after hitting you.
You took a deep breath before making you way to the desk he sat on.
‘Dad.’ You tried to sound happy, hands playing with the sleeves of your uniform’s sweater as you stood in front of him. He smiled back at you. ‘What are you doing here?’
The way your question made his eyes drop broke your heart.
‘Your mom called me from Paris. Her flight’s delayed.’ He took a deep breath as he studied you with his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here. Told me to send her assistant.’
You bit your lip hiding your smile. ‘Carmen.’
He rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. ‘Can you fucking believe that?’
You laughed loudly, sitting next to him on the desk. Only then you realised there was a bouquet of roses on the sit behind you. ‘Are those for me?’
‘Of course, flower.’ He said smiling.
You couldn’t help but smile widely, wrapping an arm around his and placing your head on his shoulder.
It was good for both of you. You stayed quiet the whole meeting, sitting on the seat next to his as your teacher talked to him. You placed your chin on your hand when his eyebrows lifted at the sight of your grades from the first semester, trying to hide your smile.
On the way to the dinner hall, he asked you a few questions about how things were going. You hadn’t seen him in about a month, before he flew to Hong Kong for business, so there was not a lot to talk about except Thanksgiving and what books you were currently reading. You missed him a lot.
It didn’t surprise you that people observed you when you walked inside the hall. Whispers behind fizzy glasses and looks of pity while you kept chatting with your dad. Outside the borders of the elite, he was on the front of every single business magazine, but here he seemed to always be regarded as the man who abandoned his family on Christmas day. Not like that mattered when they needed favours from him, though. But you had to learn diplomacy the hard way, by getting along with everyone but friendly with almost no one.
Everyone except one person.
Steve sat quietly on a chair on the other side of the room, while his dad stood up next to him. He was scolding him, you imagined, by the way he sat with his arms crossed on his chest, nodding slightly every now and then as his father spoke. The sleeves of his uniform’s sweater were rolled up on his elbows and his brown gaze lost on the wooden floor.
Mr. Harrington’s eyes lit up as soon as your dad nodded at him, the atmosphere changing instantly at the sight of you two. You smiled too, but the gesture fell from your face when you saw the crystal glass with the brown liquid on his hand. You took a deep breath as you followed your dad, hands on your lap as you ached to squeeze his arm and ask him to leave early.
‘So good to see you here.’ Said Mr. Harrington patting your dad’s shoulder. ‘Though I’m sure there’s nothing you should worry about with this one. I’ve heard she’s doing great.’
You smiled politely, ignoring the way Steve rolled his eyes at his father’s flattery. He looked at you from where he was then, eyes lingering on the way you scratched the back of your knee sock with your shoe in nervousness, the hem of your uniform skirt lifting a little bit with the movement.
‘She is, actually. I’m very proud.’
The words made him look up at you then, your face going from tense to soft at your father’s words. Shy smile adorning your face, a subtle thing none of them noticed. He almost said something sarcastic, but his father was quicker at replying.
‘Maybe you could help Steve the next semester?’ He joked. ‘He could do with a good influence.’
You were about to answer something harmless, when Steve let out a scoff, a bitter laugh that made you look back at him. He lifted his eyebrows then, inviting you to say something, when Mr. Wheeler joined in, a glass of whiskey on his hand too, greeting your dad with a pat on his back.
Your father smiled at him, and the three of them started talking while you slowly became invisible. You walked back, flattening your skirt before sitting down next to Steve, ignoring him in silence as you witnessed the conversation in front of you, feeling the anxiety rising on your chest.
You heard words about business, finance, and stocks, but your eyes just lingered on the liquor glasses and how empty they became with the passing of minutes. You observed your dad’s attentive nods and wondered what he was thinking about, if he could smell the alcohol from where he was. He was throwing his head back while laughing, he was making jokes. He seemed happy.
That couldn’t be good.
‘You sure got that good girl act together, don’t you?’
You turned your face to Steve momentarily, distracted by the way your dad’s voice had turned louder. ‘What?’
He studied your face before looking away, licking his lips.
‘I said your daddy comes here and suddenly you’re playing the part of the perfect daughter. Good influence my ass.’  
You frowned at his words, eyeing him with disdain before looking back at your dad.
‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not like you, Harrington. Publicly fucking around with everyone. I bet your dad must be very proud of your voyeuristic tendencies.’
‘You’re one to talk, pool girl.’ He said under his breath.
You scoffed, shaking your head. Your eyes were still fixed on the conversation in front of you, the way your dad seemed to fit in perfectly in the cheerful environment, talking with his hands and laughing loudly with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Wheeler. Your stomach twisted, the discussion with Steve making you even more irritated.
‘I have no idea what Jason told you, but sucking dick is hardly a crime when you compare it to being found out in the school’s rooftop. Do you think I don’t notice the way you’re avoiding Mr. Wheeler’s eyes right now?’
‘Nancy was my girlfriend.’ He said feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Something about the way your eyes refused to meet his made him even more annoyed, he wasn’t used to be ignored.
You were still looking at your dad when you leaned into your side, whispering the words that you knew would shut him up.
‘Yeah. Until she got bored of you.’
It all happened so fast. You saw the way the waitress approached them, holding the tray so Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Harrington would leave their empty glasses on them, a set of three refilled ones waiting for the gentlemen’s hands to grab them.
You saw it before it happened because you knew him. Because you had witnessed this same scene many times before. When your dad’s fingers brushed the glass of whiskey, you felt Steve’s irritated sigh stroking your cheek. You lifted your eyes then, meeting his brown stare full of hatred, cheeks flushed by your provoking words. And you had no other option than to lean in.
It was a silly thing, really. Lips crashing on his in front of everyone in the dinner hall for just a few seconds. You heard the gasps, the whispers, and your name falling from your dad’s mouth, making you break the kiss.
Steve’s eyes still lingered on your face though, cheeks and neck getting even hotter by the unexpected kiss, tasting your strawberry gloss and missing the feeling of your mouth against his. His eyes followed you, confused and lost as you stood up, your dad’s hand wrapping on your shoulder while you tried to hide your smile.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said to you. He wasn’t mad, not really, silly giggles leaving his mouth as you let out a snorty laugh while you left the dinner hall together.
You knew that on Monday morning you’d be called into the principal’s office by your improper behavior. You knew by then your mother would be back in the country and you’d had to find an excuse to explain why you kissed Steve in front of everyone. But none of that mattered, really. Your dad was sober and amused at your mischievousness. He’d ask you to spend the weekend at his after not seeing him for a month. He’d take you to play golf and have milkshakes. He’d watch The Apartment with you for the thousandth time.
Fuck Steve.
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25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Disaster knocked on the door at the Harringtons’ annual charity party. Steve saw you walking through the doors of his parents’ mansion with your hand wrapped around your dad’s arm. You were wearing a velvet red dress, and a matching bow on your hair. A little present wrapped just for him on the first day of December.
He still wondered what it all had meant, why you kissed him in the middle of one of your stupid arguments. What had been different that time. He had spent all Saturday morning wondering if he should call you, but he thought that was ridiculous. You had kissed him, and he was honest when he said he really hated that good girl act you played in front of everyone’s parents.
You didn’t notice his eyes on you as a waiter offered you a couple of glasses of champagne and you politely declined with a smile, squeezing your dad’s arm. The Hargroves greeted you two then, and you unfolded your arms from your father’s, interlacing your hands on your back.
Steve knew you didn’t drink, an implicit promise you and your dad made to each other, and he had kept even after all these years. He understood that. But everything else seemed unnecessary. The grades, the manners, the networking abilities his dad’s interns could only dream of having. It wasn’t real. Nothing about you was real.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he saw you laugh at something Billy Hargrove said. You looked around the crowded room then, a few couples dancing in the middle of it to the jazz music playing in the background. Your gaze found his from where you were, eyebrows arching and eyes turning soft. Steve frowned at your reaction before he realised that what you were actually looking at was behind him.
He looked behind his shoulder to find his mom laughing loudly next to Joyce Byers, a glass of whiskey on her hand. The image filled him with a strange feeling. A knife twisting on his stomach.
‘Steve! How are you?’ The voice of your father made him turn his face back.
‘I’m doing good, sir.’ He smiled at him, avoiding addressing you directly. ‘How are you?’
You were standing a few steps behind them, eyes stealing glances at his mother whenever she laughed, biting your lip, and feeling your shoulders tense. The truth was you would always care about Mrs. Harrington. You had never told anyone what you saw that Christmas Eve in that dark room. Not your parents. None of your friends. And definitely not Steve.
‘Are you okay, honey?’ You lifted your eyes to find Mr. Harrington in front of you. Steve and your father were looking at you, expecting a response to a question you hadn’t heard.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said blinking, heat rushing to your cheeks. ‘I’m good. How are you, Mr. Harrington? I love the decorations this year.’
Steve fought the need to roll his eyes at you.
‘Thank you, dear.’ He smiled then, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I’m good. Was hoping Steve could take you to the dancefloor so I can steal your father for a couple of minutes. I’ve got an important conversation and a new mini golf set in my studio.’
Steve held his breath. Ever since you had kissed him his dad was convincedhe had to shoot his shot. She’s a nice girl, Steve, he said. He knew you were not. He observed the way you smiled politely, arms still behind your back while you licked your lips.
‘Actually, my heels are new, and I don’t really feel like getting stepped on, but if you must steal my dad, please do so. He hasn’t won a mini golf match in a while and I’m sure he could do with the ego boost.’
Only your dad and Mr. Harrington laughed loudly at your cheekiness.
‘Your daughter would be a good lawyer, you know that?’ Said Steve’s dad as he put a hand on your dad’s shoulder and guided him on the direction of his studio.
You bit the inner skin of your cheek. It hadn’t been that funny, but you were bored and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to provoke Steve. Your eyes followed the silhouettes of the two men for a few seconds, wondering if your dad would be tempted tonight like he was on Friday.
‘I can’t believe you.’
His voice made you look back at him. You eyed him in his black suit, hair on its place for once, his cedarwood perfume invading your lungs even if you didn’t want it to.
‘What?’
His eyes looked up and down at you while he put his hands on his pockets, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.
‘Nothing. It’s just fun seeing you pretend you’re not as fake as everyone in this room.’
You took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Fake how, Steve?’
He licked his lips then, taking a step towards you as he spoke. From this distance you could see the way his brown piercing eyes craved to provoke you, a single strand of hair falling in the middle of his forehead.
‘Laughing at Hargrove’s jokes knowing your daddy wants a deal to acquire thirty percent of his father’s company. Wearin’ a Karen Wheeler dress so she agrees to design the costumes of your mom’s next movie. Teasing my dad to get him to accept the business offer your dad must be talking about right now.’ He made a pause then, warm breath sending shivers through your body. ‘You think I don’t notice?’
You took your time then. He stood still when your hand found his tie, getting closer so your mouth could whisper to his ear.
‘So, you pay attention to what I do. Sounds like a fixable problem between your dick and your hand, Harrington.’
You moved to take a step back, but Steve put a firm hand on your waist, taking the hand resting on his chest in his and before you could blink, you two were swinging to the Billie Holiday song playing in the background.
‘You sure as hell know how to use that pretty mouth, don’t you?’ His voice had turned lower then. His words were full of arrogance, but his thumb brushed softly against the uncovered skin of your back.
You held your breath at his words, cedarwood scent getting stronger, skin full of goosebumps by his touch.
‘You tell me.’ You said. ‘Seems like you’ve been thinking a lot about my mouth since Friday. Are you really that easy? I don’t even remember using my tongue.’ You lowered your voice even more, lips brushing against his earlobe as you spoke. ‘And I’ve been told I’m pretty good at using it.’
Steve swallowed hard at your words, wondering if there was an implied proposition behind them. You didn’t know why you were teasing him; the kiss had just been the quickest way of keeping your dad from reaching that glass. But seeing him on this suit and letting him hold you against his body had you wondering if that had been the only reason.
Maybe it was the way he pushed you closer to his body, or how he sighed deeply against your skin while your eyes fixed on Mrs. Harrington over his shoulder, grabbing another glass from a tray and dropping the empty one she had on her hand. Maybe it was the fact you were still fond of her, or maybe for some strange reason, you wanted to save Steve from the embarrassment of seeing his mother like this.
So, before the glass could reach the floor, you started walking out of the room. Fingers subtly brushing his, so he’d get the hint to follow you. He heard the sound of glass shattering behind him, some exclamations, a familiar voice saying sorrysorrysorry. But none of that mattered.
As soon as you walked into the hallway, his hand wrapped around your arm, pushing you against the wooden wall next to the door, dim lights illuminating your profile. Steve’s brown eyes stayed on yours as his hand found your chin, silence filling the tense air between you two. He had pushed you so unexpectedly that one of the strips of your dress had fallen off your shoulder. His gaze followed the line of your collarbones before looking back at you, thumb pushing lightly so your mouth would open for him.
He made you breath him in first, noses brushing and lips ghosting as he pushed his body against yours. You couldn’t help but arch your eyebrows at the feeling of his hardened dick against your thigh, the realisation falling on your innocent eyes, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It killed him.
He leaned in then. Lips full of hatred but tongue aching to taste you as his thumb opened that sweet mouth of yours. His hand fell on your chest then, stroking your breast over the velvety fabric before making its way down to your leg. He briefly wondered why you smiled under his lips, until his hand found the lace of your black stockings and garter belt under your dress.
‘Fuck.’ He whispered desperately, the adrenaline of potentially getting caught running through his veins. ‘Let me see you, I wanna see you.’
His forehead rested against your temple as he looked down while his hand lifted the skirt of your dress, taking in the beautiful view of your boobs pushed up and the little black thong you were wearing that night. ‘Shit. Look at you, all dressed up to be fucked.’
You rolled your eyes, tilting your head subtly enough so your noses were brushing. ‘You don’t have to be so obscene about it, Harrington.’
His breathy laugh stroked your lips as his fingers wandered under your skirt.
‘I’ll tell you what’s obscene, princess.’ You couldn’t help but lift your chin when his thick fingers ventured under the lace of your underwear, three fingers stroking your soaked folds. ‘How fuckin’ wet this pretty pussy is for me. Now that is obscene.’
You could only close your eyes and let out a deep breath when he started fingering you, the reasons why you were here on the first place long forgotten. You let out a soft moan as the sounds of his fingers going in and out of you filled the hallway.
‘D’you hear that? Huh?’ His lips sucked the skin of the curve of your neck. ‘Bet you can get even wetter for me, can’t you?’
‘Steve.’ Your intention was to sound irritated at how cocky he was being, but it came out as a sweet moan, his fingers had found that spot inside your walls and you couldn’t help but tighten them in response.
‘Hmm, yes you can. I can feel it. Soakin’ wet on my hand.’ He was leaving kisses on your collarbones now, moving to the other side of your head so he could whisper to your ear. ‘I should leave you like this. A soakin’ mess, walkin’ ‘round my house with your pussy wet. Spoiled little brat. Shouldn’t even make you cum.’
You opened your eyes at his words, taking a manicured hand to his jaw so he could face you. You started moving your hips slowly as he kept fingering you, heavy eyelids over needy brown eyes looking back at you.
‘Fuck you, Harrington.’ The hand on his jaw moved to the back of his neck pushing his face towards you. ‘We both know you wanna make me cum so badly.’
He looked at you for a few seconds as his nose pushed against your cheek and his opened mouth sighed over yours. His digits kept going in and out of your pussy as he got impossibly closer to your body.
‘Want you to ask me.’ He admitted then.
‘Not fucking happening.’
‘C’mon, you little brat.’ His voice turned deeper as his thumb started to stroke your clit, his own hardness throbbing under his pants. You bit your lip to hold the moan that begged to leave your mouth. ‘Look at you, all whiny just for me. I know you can say it.’ You shook your head repetitively then, and he moved to look at you. ‘No? Why? Not used to ask for things, are we? That’s fine. I can teach you.’
What happened next was decisive in the events that unfolded in the next few weeks.
When he took his fingers out of you, you let out a breath of relief, thinking that you had somehow preserved some of your dignity in your little slip with Steve Harrington. What you didn’t really expect was seeing him get on his knees in front of you, your hands instinctively finding the brown locks of his hair when his mouth came in contact with your sensitive cunt.
‘F-Fuck.’ It was a whispery high-pitched thing, leaving your mouth as you pushed your back against the wall and his hands firmly squeezed your thighs to keep you obscenely open for him.
His flat tongue rubbed against your clit, and this time it was you who had to lift your dress to have a better look at the sight in front of you. Dark eyes and mouth hungrily eating you out while you looked down with your pretty pure stare and your eyebrows arched, innocent agony on your face.
‘That’s it.’ He whispered against your pussy when you started grinding against his tongue, hands gripping at his hair, words choked by his lips on yours. ‘That’s it.’
‘Steve.’ You whispered, knowing that you were losing. The other strip of your dress had fallen on your shoulder too, the subtle shade of your nipple peeking through the top of your dress, goosebumps all over your chest by how turned on you were.
‘Hmm?’ He kept licking you, sloppily and loudly.
Steve inserted two fingers inside you before start kissing up your pelvis and stomach, while your fingers still played with his hair.
‘Are you ready to be fucked?’ He said in between pecks to your skin. ‘Huh? Ready to ask for it?’
You licked your lips, hesitating. Your silence made him look up at you, and you subtly nodded. He didn’t stand up just yet, taking his time to pull your dress and underwear down your body, releasing your braless chest for him. You should’ve felt exposed as he helped you step out of the velvet piece of clothing, naked in a hallway where anyone could’ve seen you two. But the sight of Steve kneeling in front of you made you feel something worse than vulnerability; it made you feel powerful.
‘What do you want, huh?’ He buried his head in you once again, leaving a wet kiss on your pussy. ‘Tell me.’
‘Steve.’
‘Don’t you get fucking bratty on me, now.’ He said licking the space in between your leg and your lip. ‘Look how wet you are. You want to be fucked so badly it’s fucking embarrassing.’
You let out a breathy laugh then, looking down at him. His chin was over your belly button now, as your fingers played with his hair, taking it off his face before they traced a line from his cheekbone to his lips, shiny with your wetness. He softly pressed a kiss on them, a subtle thing that made the cheekiness on his eyes die down and your smile turn into a line.
What the fuck were you doing?
A distant noise made you lift your head, arms instinctively crossing over your body and your cheeks turning hot with anticipated embarrassment. Steve took your dress quickly, before taking your hand and leading you into the nearest room, closing the door behind him.
‘Stev–’ He didn’t let you finish, lips back on yours and hands undoing his belt with desperation as he led you to the bed. He was tired of begging you.
‘Lay down.’ He said unbuttoning his shirt. You did as he said, looking at the thin gold chain that hung from his now uncovered chest. Somehow the adrenaline from it all was making you dumb. ‘Uh-uh. On your front.’
You blinked many times at the way he felt so entitled to command you, not sure if you were going to give him the pleasure to. He removed his boxers then, but you refused to look at his dick. You refused to acknowledge how badly you wanted him to fuck you.
‘I don’t–’
‘Can you just fucking do as you’re told?’
His hands found your hips, effortlessly moving them you so you’d be laying on your front. One of his hands made his way to your pelvis between the bed and your skin, reaching your now swollen clit while you felt his hardness against your thigh. He started drawing circles on your bud then, his forehead resting against your neck as you gasped at the sudden stimulus.
‘See?’ He murmured, ‘Just wanna make you feel good. Are you gonna let me make you feel good, now?’
‘Uh-uh.’ You whispered; eyes shut at the pleasure overtaking your body. You had been teased for too long.
‘Let me see you.’
You looked back behind your shoulder, hair messy, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed. His eyes studied yours for a few seconds, the silent realisation of what you were doing falling in between you two. He positioned himself on your entrance then, both of you holding your breaths as his dick slowly stretched you out.
Steve shut his eyes and released a choked sigh, forehead resting against your temple once his dick was deeply buried inside you.
‘So fuckin’ tight.’ He whispered as he started to fuck you, hips crashing against your ass, slow but firm. ‘So fuckin’ tight for me.’
You were quiet on the way back to your dad’s, lost in your thoughts as you looked through the car’s window, uncertain darkness behind it. People did this kind of thing when they were in need of dazzling euphoria. They did this kind of thing when they craved for blissful intoxication. Not you, though. Never you. Until now.
‘Are you okay, flower?’ He asked, making you lose your train of thought.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You said smiling softly.
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22 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
On Monday you were called into the principal’s office. You knew you’d find him sitting on the chair in front of Mrs. Halter, legs carelessly open and sweater rolled up to his elbows. What you didn’t expect was finding Mrs. Harrington sitting next to him.
‘Hello.’ You murmured.
She was sitting on the chair next to him, looking behind her shoulder and smiling at you.
‘Hey, sweetie.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You murmured as you walked in, looking at the principal. ‘I’m sorry about my mother, Mrs. Halter. She landed in New York last night, but her flight has been delayed again.’
You didn’t look at Steve as you sat down on the chair on the other side of him, leaving him in the middle between his mother and you.
The principal placed both hands on the surface of her mahogany desk, looking at you two through her glasses.
‘I don’t like repeating myself. This is strike one for you, but this is the second time Mr. Harrington comes to this office for this kind of improper behavior. I can’t accept this, Martha.’
You noticed the way Mrs. Harrington looked at Steve, disappointment all over her face as he avoided her eyes. You bit your lip looking down at your pleated skirt. When you leaned in to kiss him it had seemed like a really good idea. Now you weren’t so sure about it. But you couldn’t explain Mrs. Halter why you did what you did.
Mrs. Harrington opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke first.
‘It was a stupid bet, Mrs. Halter. Steve didn’t even know about it.’ You rushed to say. ‘And if you want to know, my parents are already refusing to take me skying to the alps this year because of it.’
Steve bit the inside of his cheek at the way you sat straight with your hands over your crossed knees. You were using your diplomatic voice then, and the scene took him back to what his dad said the night of the party. Yes, you could be an amazing lawyer. You were hypocrite enough for the job.
‘What a nightmare.’ She said sarcastically.
‘Precisely.’ You replied.
She stood in silence for a few seconds. ‘Anything to say Mr. Harrington?’
He shook his head then, innocence all over his face as he pretended to hesitate on what to say. ‘Uh, it won’t happen again, Mrs. Halter.’
The three of you walked out of the office. Mrs. Halter let you go with a warning because you had never really been caught in any offensive conduct, and you had somehow managed to convince her to do the same for Steve.
‘I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.’ Murmured Mrs. Harrington while stroking your back. He was a few steps behind you, walking with his hand on his pockets. ‘I’ll talk to Steve about it, he can be so impulsive sometimes.’
You heard him scoff behind you. The blood rushing to your cheeks knowing he had heard her words.
‘It’s not like that.’ You murmured.
The three of you stopped in front of the school’s reception. Mrs. Harrington stroked your arms, standing in front of you. You studied her face then; she had aged gracefully. A few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, hair still voluminous and outfits as colourful and glamorous as they had been in the past.
‘I know my son.’ She said to you before eyeing him. You got the feeling she really didn’t. Steve rolled his eyes at her words as she took a step towards him, the clicking of her expensive heels echoing through the empty hallway.
‘Mom–’
‘Stay out of trouble, okay?’ Her voice was low when she said it, almost hurt at something you couldn’t quite grasp. She brushed the brown strands of hair that fell on his face. ‘I’ll see you next weekend.’
He simply nodded. You looked down to your shoes, unsaid words hanging in the silence between them.
‘Bye, sweetie.’ She said to you as she walked towards the exit.
‘Goodbye, Mrs. Harrington.’ You softly replied.
Steve couldn’t stand the way you bit your lip while playing with the sleeves of your sweater. He couldn’t stand the way you had gotten him out of trouble. He couldn’t stand his mom’s inexplicable affection towards you. And he couldn’t stand the sadness behind her eyes as he looked down at him with disappointment.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he started walking in the opposite direction, fingers brushing his messy locks as he hit your shoulder with his before heading to class.
‘Thought you said it wouldn’t happen again.’ You whispered as his hand found the curve of your ass under your skirt. Your noses were brushing as you laid against the lockers of the gym’s changing rooms, his sweaty body against you, one knee resting on the bench while the other stood straight.
‘You were the one who came to see me during practice, needy thing.’ His hand squeezed your butt cheek, nails leaving half-moons on your skin as his face was buried in your neck and your hands ran through his sweaty hair.
It wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to see if he was okay after what happened with Mrs. Harrington earlier. It’s not like you cared about him. But in the last few days you had realised how much in debt you felt to her for what she had done for you when you were a child, and she seemed to be getting worse and worse with the passing of years.
His lips on yours made you forget all about it, though. Wet tongues fighting for dominance as he put your soaking underwear aside and his dick teased your wet pussy. ‘This better be quick, okay? No fighting, no bratty attitude. Have to go back in twenty minutes.’
‘You’re so fucking full of your– Uh.’ You couldn’t help but moan when he went in with no warning, fucking you against the locker, your head hitting the metal behind it softly.
‘S exactly what I fucking mean. Can’t shut the fuck up and let yourself be fucked, can you?’
He pushed in deeper as you rolled your eyes at how full your felt, back arching at the sweet sensation of your walls closing around his length.
‘N-No.’ You said in between breaths. ‘Wouldn’t be fun that way.’
To your surprise, he laughed against you ear as he fucked you deeper and deeper, your walls getting wetter by the stimulation. ‘So fucking rude aren’t you? Gonna fuck that brattinness out of you. Gonna– Shit. Gonna ruin’ you.’
‘Try.’
‘What did you just fucking say?’ He took his face out of its hiding place to look at you. But you didn’t reply, instead you took the opportunity to push him down, body falling on the bench as you moved to position yourself on top of him.
You sat on his dick then, the sudden friction making him hit his head against the metal door behind him, your open palm next to it to support yourself. You started moving your hips, grinding on him as his hands found your ass, squeezing again.
‘Shhh-Shit.’ he said under his breath as you followed his mouth with yours.
‘I said try, Harrington.’ You whispered then.
‘Fuck you.’ He said under his breath. His hands squeezed even harder as you started bouncing, firmly and deeply, making him release a soft growl.
‘You’re already doing it.’ You said as he started guiding your hips just how he wanted while you tried to hit that spot you liked with his cock. Both of you using each other’s bodies to reach that sweet point of no return.
He laughed against your neck, a low thing eclipsed by the noises of skin against skin and the quiet moans you were fighting to hold in. A few minutes of sighs, whines and hard gulps passed while you felt your skin fill with goosebumps and getting sweaty at the same time. Your cheek pressed against his, mouth close to his ear to he could hear your desperate moans as you got closer.
‘Steve.’
‘I know. Fuck, I know.’ His arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body. ‘You feel so fucking good. Touch your pussy for me, yeah? Can you do that? Can you fucking do as you’re told for once?’
You were grateful he wasn’t looking at your face, rolling your eyes in pleasure at the way his voice turned deeper the more impatient he became. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when your hand reached under your skirt, drawing soft circles over your clit.
‘Good girl.’ He said in between heavy breaths. Your hips and knees started to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. ‘Yeah, that’s a good girl. That’s a good girl. Let me see you.’
You didn’t know why you were giving in so easily, head moving to place your forehead on his as he controlled the rhythmic speed that was working for you two. He started nodding encouragingly, head resting on the locker behind him to enjoy the way your eyebrows arched, needy eyes looking into the sweet brown of his.
‘Fuck.’ You whispered. ‘FuckFuckFuck.’
Your eyes shut hard, nails digging on the exposed skin of his shoulder as you felt the walls of your cunt tighten. He squeezed your ass once more, pushing your lower back towards him before you felt his hot release inside you. A mess of sticky thighs and heavy breaths filling the changing room.
‘Move.’ He said squeezing your hips. You did as he said, ears ringing and soreness starting to burn in between your legs. You sat on the bench with your back against the lockers, catching your breath as he fixed his gym shorts. ‘Don’t come here for this again, okay?’
You frowned then, staying silent for a long second before you scoffed.
‘Are you being serious right now?’
He looked up and down at you before cleaning his face with a towel.
‘What? I told you I only had twenty minutes. And I don’t wanna get caught again. I actually want to graduate, you know?’
You stood up from the bench, blinking repeatedly at nothing in particular, feeling stupid out of sudden. You took a few steps forwards to be face to face with him.
‘You’re a fucking asshole.’
Steve followed your silhouette with his eyes as you walked out of the changing rooms.
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18 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You had finals before Christmas break, so you tried to study with your thighs pressed under your desk, ignoring the sex flashbacks that often visited you at night when you were alone in bed.
You hadn’t spoken to Steve since Monday, and your determined aims to ignore him brought you memories from the period where your dad was in rehab. Spotting him in between the mess of uniforms, lowering your gaze if you walked next to him in a hallway, holding your breath if his cedarwood cologne invaded your lungs when you walked into a classroom he had been in before.
Everything was fine. You had a little slip no one knew about. You hadn’t been caught, and you were about to get a well-deserved break after months of studying until feeling your head would explode. You’d find someone else to fuck in a few months and it would all be forgotten.
But Steve wasn’t going to let you forget it. He’d still look right at you whenever your walked into the classes you shared, being annoyingly obvious by tilting his head a little and lifting his eyebrows the counted times your eyes met his. You learned to dodge his shoulder when he walked past you, and a couple of times he felt the urge to grab your elbow, so you’d look back at him to ask you what the fuck your problem was.
You endured it with frustrated sighs, rolling your eyes when no one saw you, and staying as long as you could in your dorm studying. You had a lot to look forward to. Your mom would come pick you up on Friday and you’d go to the city over the weekend to buy Christmas presents. You’d go to the Prada store together just like you did every year, and order room service while trying on all the new moisturisers she’d get.
Every winter you tried to forget December 1976, and so far, every winter you succeeded. Fucking Steve Harrington a couple of times wasn’t going to prevent you from succeeding once again.
But on Friday, when you left your room and walked out of the reception with your suitcase, your smile fell at the sight of a man in a suit holding a sign with your name in it. Worse than that, it wasn’t just your name on the sign.
Steve lifted his eyebrows when you walked out, he was leaning against the black car with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and a camel sweater. You blinked many times at the man in front you, a confusing frown adorning your face.
‘Hello, Miss–’
‘This must be a mistake.’ You interrupted him. ‘I-I’m sorry, I was supposed to be picked up by my–’
‘Your mother kindly asked the Harrington family to pick you up this weekend. I’ll make sure to drive you home. You have nothing to worry about.’
‘Kindly asked–’ You whispered under your breath, eyes stinging and anxiety rushing to your chest. ‘Excuse me.’
Steve frowned when you left your bags in front of the chauffeur, walking back inside the school, boots clicking over the mahogany wooden tiles.
‘Get the bags inside, Jack.’ He told the man in the suit. ‘Just gonna check what’s going on now.’
You stood in front of the payphone, holding the handset against your ear as the tears pooled in your eyes.
‘Pickup,pickup,pickup.’ You repeated to yourself tapping your heel against the floor. A few minutes passed as your ears only focused on the beeping of the line and the beating of your heart.
‘Hello?’ You let out a deep breath of relief. ‘Hello?’
‘D-Dad.’ You tried to control your voice, but it came out as a shaky breath.
‘Hey, flower.’ He said, he sounded okay. You were certain he sounded okay. ‘Is everything good? What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ You laughed then, cleaning your cheek with the back of your hand. ‘I-I’m sorry. I just, I was just being silly. Didn’t remember who was picking me up this weekend.’
‘Oh.’ He said. ‘Well, technically is your mother, but I can come pick you up if you want to? I thought you were going Christmas shopping tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ You rushed to say. ‘Yes, we are. I just– I think I’ll just leave with Steve instead. He’s going to Hawkins anyways.’
‘Sounds good then. Give me a call when you’re home safe. Okay, flower?’
You nodded as if he could see you. ‘Sure, dad.’
‘Bye. Love you.’ You smiled, a breathy laugh mixing with your tears.
‘Love you, dad.’
You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand as you hung the phone. You were about to turn around when a hand resting on the top of the payphone startled you.
‘What’s going on?’ You looked up to find Steve’s brown stare, eyebrows frowning at the sight of your watery eyes. ‘Wha– Why are you crying?’
You shook your head in response, moving to walk back to the parking lot.
‘Let’s just go home, Steve.’
‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, relieved that he finally had a reason to do it. ‘What’s wrong?’
You avoided his eyes, looking to your side, sounding exhausted when you spoke. ‘Steve, I don’t wanna do this right now. Can we go home?’
He didn’t reply, so you looked back at him while you got rid of his grip. ‘Please?’
His hand fell on his side as he nodded.
‘There you are!’ Said your mother as soon as the car parked in front of the Harrington’s house, open arms ready for you. She looked annoyingly gorgeous wearing her red turtleneck and pearl earrings. Mrs. Harrington was standing next to her, looking just as beautiful with a martini glass on her hand.
‘You could’ve told me you weren’t picking me up.’ You said partly returning the hug as her perfume surrounded you.
‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ She took a step back to have a better look at you. ‘Martha invited us for dinner, and I thought it’d be easy if you came with Steve rather than driving all the way there.’
Steve climbed the steps of the entrance, opening the door for the three of you.
‘Right.’ You said under your breath as you walked into the mansion’s entrance. You smiled at Mrs. Harrington then, it was supposed to be a polite gesture, but the drink on her hand only made you feel sad.
‘Are you okay, sweetie?’ She said arching her eyebrows.
You nodded subtly. ‘M just tired.’
‘Why don’t you take a nap in the guests’ room?’ She said squeezing your shoulder, the glass had made her hand cold. ‘Or I can ask a maid to prepare you a bath?’
Steve’s eyes found yours then, standing against the stair’s banister with his hands in his pockets. He frowned at the way you blinked many times, trying to dissimulate your blurry gaze. Without the people, the music and the decorations from last weekend’s party, this place made you feel as if you were ten years old again.
It had never occurred to him you still remembered that one time he prepared you the bath with the pink bubbles. The way you had talked in your sleep while the excitement of the Christmas morning made him wide awake. Your pink pyjamas, having hot chocolate for breakfast. His mother braiding your hair.
The breakdown she had when he asked for a sister right after you left.
‘I’ll take the guest room, please.’ You whispered.
‘I think I made clear I’m not in the mood to deal with you, Steve.’ You said walking down the hallway to get to the guest room.
‘As if I’m ever in the mood to deal with you.’ You heard him say behind you.
You let out a deep breath, rolling your eyes as you walked inside the room. You knew he wasn’t going to leave just like that, so you threw your bag on the little armchair and started undressing.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ You said throwing your jeans on top of your bag. ‘I’m trying to get ready for a nap.’
‘Oh, yeah. You sure as hell are.’
You were left on your panties and your matching cami top, heat rising to your cheeks when you realised you looked exactly as if you had chosen the set with the intention of having sex.
Steve took a few steps towards you, a cocky smile on his face while he studied you. Your eyelids were slightly puffy, and he wished he could just brush his thumbs over them, but there were certain types of touch he knew he was not allowed to give you.
‘Is this your idea of teasing?’ He asked.
You rolled your eyes as you walked to the bed.
‘Not everything is about you, Steve.’
You had just put the covers over your legs when you heard the noise of his belt dropping on the floor.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ You asked as he walked around the bed wearing only his boxers.
‘Getting ready for a nap.’ He said getting under the covers.
You let out a sigh as you looked at the ceiling, feeling his weight on the mattress. You were fighting hard not to smile. You were fighting hard not to cry.
He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t just ask. That’s not what you two did. He wasn’t sure what you did was, but it certainly didn’t involve deep, personal conversations. So that’s why he was careful when his fingers started brushing the skin of your thigh.
You shut your eyes at his touch, letting out a deep breath as his hand traced a line from your knee to your hipbone. You hated to admit it, but it was actually working, making your body relax. Steve took a look at your profile, following the line from your forehead to your chest, pebbly nipples showing through the pattern of pink flowers on your top, a little ribbon in between your breasts. He could’ve just stayed there looking at every single hair of your body turn into a goosebump and that would’ve been enough.
‘You don’t fucking get to time it.’
Your voice made him lift his eyes back at you. ‘What?’
‘You don’t get to time how long we have sex for.’ You said then. ‘Or where. You were a fucking dick last time.’
‘Oh, really?’ He said sarcastically, lifting his eyebrows at your boldness. His hand moved from your thigh to the hem of your panties then, playing with the lacy fabric. ‘What else?’
You rolled your eyes at the way you felt yourself getting wet already. He couldn’t help but look at your mouth when you licked your lips to speak again, scoffing as you pondered about where to start.
‘It makes me fucking angry when you boss me around.’
The idiotic smile on his face almost made you roll your eyes again if it wasn’t for the fact that his fingers had found the wet patch on your underwear, thick digits rubbing the gentlest circles on them.
He moved so his face was closer to you then, breath brushing on your ear as he whispered.
‘Really? ‘Cause I think it makes you fucking wet, and that is what makes you angry.’
You wouldn’t have been able to keep in the wetness that damped your underwear then, your body betraying you in the filthiest of ways as Steve’s deep laugh echoed in your ear.
He moved, making you resist the urge to cross your legs at the absence of his fingers. Steve took his own sweet time, and you had had such a long day that you just let him wrap his fingers on each ankle and place them on either side of his legs as he kneeled in between them. He brushed his hair with his fingers, taking in the sight in front of him.
Your hair falling on the pillowcase, your puffy glossy eyes, the curve of your neck turning into the line of your collarbones. Your perfect nipples hard and sensitive under the fabric of your top, the space between its hem and the lace of your panties. That perfect damp spot turning wetter and wetter every second. His hand cupped your cheek then, thumb brushing your lower lip that he had been thinking about that same morning. Tense silence falling like snow on Christmas Day.
‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’ He said.
He wanted you to believe him, but your eyes were looking at the bulge in his boxers, then back at his brown eyes, driving him insane. Controlling every single reaction of his touch starved skin. It was the way you so willingly nodded at his words that seemed suspicious to him.
‘You don’t believe me?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.
You sat on your elbows then, looking at him with eyes full of irreverence. ‘Of course, I believe you.’
It was the first time he was able to take his own time with you, getting rid of your panties and focusing on the thread of wetness still connected to your underwear when he finally took them off your ankles.
‘You’re lying.’ It was an accusation, but it sounded soft, almost sweet.
His fingers stroked your legs from your knees to your thighs, squeezing there before brushing your puffy clit just lightly, your head falling back onto the pillow at the sensual touch. ‘Why are you fucking lying?’
‘M not– Shit, Steve.’ You lifted your head to find his head buried in between your legs, tongue playfully stroking your clit. ‘Why can’t you just fucking warn me before doing that?’
He laughed softly, breath stroking your cunt just nicely. Two of his fingers found their way inside you, making you squeeze your wet walls around them as you arched your back.
‘You’re not listening. You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do.’He repeated before burying his face in between your legs again, mouth hungrily eating you out as you grabbed your top with your fists, the movement causing you to expose your breasts slightly.
‘Steve–’ You moaned.
‘Shhh.’ He whispered against your pussy while adding a third finger inside you. ‘Shut the fuck up. You don’t want them to know I’m eating your pretty cunt, do you?’ You shook your head in response. ‘No, of course you don’t, needy thing. So stay fucking quiet while I eat you, then.’
‘You’re such a piece of shit.’ You said in between heavy breaths.
‘And you’re a needy brat that’d do anything to get fucked. Guess we deserve each other.’
His flat tongue licked your slit then, reaching your puffy clit and he kept it exposed and wet for you to grind on it. You heard him swallow, and the sound just made you even wetter, looking down at him as he made out with your pussy. You were tired of fighting, and he was right about something. At that point, you’d do anything to get fucked.
So, you just let him take care of it. You made sure to keep your moans low as he kept fingering you and eating you out. Only the wet sounds of his mouth on you and his fingers getting in and out of your pussy filling the room.
And he got lost in it. In your perfume and your taste, in the way you caged him with your legs, wanting him closer. In the needy noises you were fighting to keep in, coming out as whispery whines.
‘Such a sweet cunt, fuck.’ He whispered against it, overindulging every single nerve of the shiny skin that he knew deserved to be devoured. It was as if you didn’t even exist anymore, mouth only focused on the swollen folds in front of him.
A gasp left your lips as you got closer, hands grabbing onto locks of brown hair and legs trying to open impossibly wider. Steve pushed your thigh with his free hand, and you looked down at him to take in the pretty sight in front of you. Eyes shut in concentration, shiny lips hungry and swollen. He was trying to prove something to you, and in the process, he was losing.
‘That’s it.’ You said in a high-pitched whispery moan. ‘Yeah. Eat me just like that. Fuck. Let me just–’ You pushed his head firmly against you and he moaned. ‘Hmm. You like that, don’t you? Look at me, Steve.’
He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was just pussy drunk on you, or maybe it was the way you said it in such a quiet yet demanding manner. Not like you wanted it, but like you needed it. But he lifted his eyes look at you. He gave in. He couldn’t just not.
You didn’t expect him to, but his surrender was probably what sent you to the edge. Hips moving, back arching, and legs closing over his head as your pussy clenched and throbbed in sweet pleasure.
You both exhaled loudly when the moment died down. He moved from your legs, cleaning his face with the back of his hand as you reached for your panties. You felt weird then, as if you had to thank him or something.
The thought made you even more flushed. You looked up at him, an awkward laugh leaving you lips that provoked the same response in him.
‘Do you want me to–’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head, checking the watch on his wrist. ‘Dinner will be served in a few minutes so we better hurry.’
‘What?’ You said standing up from the bed to reach for your jeans. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say something?’
Steve put his hands on his hips then, looking at you from the bed with an amused expression.
‘Thought you didn’t want me to fucking time you.’
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11 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Next week, you sat down for your finals in the mornings and met Steve in the evenings to relieve stress. At least that’s what you were telling yourself.
He visited you in your dorms rather than you going to his, because it would’ve been more obvious that way, high on the thrill of a shared secret. And in a mess of love bites, tongues and moans you started to memorize each other’s skin.
You’d look both ways in the hallway before grabbing the neck of his sweater and pulling him in, the smell of coffee lingering in the air as his lips met yours, walking you backwards to your bed and pushing you on top of your open books.
The days he had basketball practice or had gone swimming, he took it slow, letting you take over just a little, tired brown eyes looking up at you as you bounced on him, tangled hair framing your face while you sucked on his thumb. But most times he fucked you while you still wore your uniform, too needy to waste any time undressing you, just removing your underwear and burying his face on your neck, hands squeezing your thighs while you sat on your desk, your desperate moans making him even more impatient.
Steve was so overtaken by temptation that he missed the signs. He should’ve noticed that Friday afternoon, when he knocked on your door and you opened it with an irritated face.
‘Oh, great.’ You scoffed before walking back into your room. You didn’t look at him with the usual darkness behind your eyes or pull his sweater the way you had done the last few days. You just walked back inside.
He should’ve known that things were going downhill, because he followed you instead of leaving as he would’ve done in any other situation with any other girl. But something in his chest stung at the way you had greeted him, and he couldn’t stand it.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ He said closing the door behind him.
Your room was a mess of books and clothes, a couple of bags on the bed that you were preparing for when you stayed over at your dad’s this weekend.
‘Nothing, I just–’ You shook your head, grabbing a couple of pants from the floor. ‘I totally fucked up on my Spanish test today.’
Steve’s silence made you turn your back to him. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
‘S that all? That’s the reason why you’re being so bitchy right now?’
You held a breath while taking some more clothes from your bed, not bothering about folding them and throwing them inside the bags.
‘Yes, Steve. Some of us actually give a shit about school, you know?’
‘I give a shit.’ He said walking towards you, an uncomfortable feeling of frustration growing on his chest as you hid your eyes from him. He stood next to you with his hands in his pockets. ‘But you need to pull that stick out of your ass. You can’t be the best at everything.’
You clinched your jaw then, eyes blinking and anger rising to your chest. You didn’t know why, but you thought about your dad sitting on the classroom looking at your grades while he spoke to your teacher, and something in your stomach twisted.
‘You wouldn’t get it.’ You said under your breath, closing the zip of your bag.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t get it?’ He scoffed while his hands found your hips.
Only then your eyes landed on his face, making you hold your breath. He had changed his uniform already, a burgundy sweater with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The softness of it all made you uncomfortably warm, arms crossing on your chest as you look to your side. But Steve wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with his thumb so you would look at him. 
‘Stop being so stuck-up.’ He said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
You don’t know why you leaned in then, crashing your lips with his and running your fingers through his brown strands of hair. Maybe you just needed to drain your anger, or maybe it was the fact that his patronizing attitude had made your eyes water, and you didn’t want him to notice. Steve held you closer, hands wandering under your skirt, gently squeezing your butt cheek as you kissed him with something worse than hatred. Something darker than desire.
‘Fuck– Did you just fucking bite me?’ He said leaning back.
You laughed softly, cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand as you moved to lay on the bed with your legs partly opened, a sweet invitation to make the whole thing much worse than it already was. ‘You kind of deserved it.’
He scoffed, eyebrows lifting slightly as he undid his belt in that cocky way of his, while you enjoyed the view of his flushed cheeks and swollen lower lip. You could’ve sworn there was a smile hiding behind it when he stood in between your legs and put one hand on each of your knees.
‘You don’t get to decide that.’ He said opening your legs, fingers brushing your skin as they drew a line upwards.
His fingers found the lace of your panties, pulling them down slowly, pretty brown eyes focused on the wet patch in the middle of the fabric he threw on the floor. He lifted the fabric of your skirt to peek into your soaked folds letting out a longing sigh, and you felt your nipples turn harder under your bra.
You saw him lean towards your centre and you held your breath, craving for his touch, but his lips landed on the inner side of your thigh, where his mouth sucked hard to leave a love bite. He felt the way your hips sank on the mattress, longing for any type of touch, but his hands only sneaked into your skirt to stroke the skin over your hipbones.
‘Hmm. Spoiled girl. What am I gonna do with you?’ He whispered against your skin, nose brushing as he left a trail of kisses up your stomach, avoiding your needy core. ‘Do you think maybe getting fucked is gonna fix that bitchy attitude?’
He moved to get on top of you, brown strands of hair tickling your forehead as he studied your face. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, teasing your clit with soft strokes. Steve tilted his head to have a better look at you, enjoying the way your breath had turned heavier.
‘Answer me.’
Your eyes hid from his then, suddenly turning shy. You didn’t see the way he frowned at your change of mood, and he wondered if you had maybe changed your mind. If your mood had to do with something that wasn’t the test. But a second later you looked up at him with that darkness he knew so well, and you pulled the neck of his sweater towards you so his lips would brush yours, giving him what he had been wanting since the moment he stood up behind your door.
‘Maybe.’ You whispered against his lips. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Hmm. Need a better answer.’ He said, the tip of his cock already on your entrance. ‘Maybe an apology for bein’ so fucking irritating.’
He started slowly inserting his dick, teasing you and making you lift your chin in response.
‘Steve.’ You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him to fix everything with his touch.
‘…Talkin’ about tests ‘n shit when we could’ve been doin’ this since I got here.’ He buried his head on your neck then, slowly getting carried away by the way your walls were already tightening around him. A breathy laugh left his lips, as he kept teasing you with his dirty talk. ‘Little Miss Perfect. Can’t stand not winning for once, huh?’
You released the breath you were holding when he finally pushed himself inside you, shutting your eyes hard as he started to fuck you slowly. You moved your head to brush your nose with his, and he took the opportunity to look at you while you kept your eyes closed; the way your eyebrows arched in a beautiful, desperate frown. The needy breathes leaving your mouth, mimicking the rhythm in which he fucked you.
‘You’re so mean to me.’
It was a whispery whine. A mess of needy, breathy words that he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t this close, if he hadn’t been looking at your face as you said it. He leaned in then, softly pecking your mouth.
‘I’m so good to you.’ You whispered against his lips, opening your eyes just slightly as you wrapped your legs around him. He looked at you with heavy eyelids, brown stare lost in the way your innocent eyes looked up at him. ‘I’m so good to you and you’re so mean to me.’
He should’ve known then, by the way his heart was beating fast against his ribs. By the way he instinctively cupped your face with his hand, thinking you were the sweetest thing he’d ever fucked.
‘How else am I gonna make you cum, huh?’ He whispered back. You laughed softly at his words and his eyes lit up as he smiled. ‘Wanna make you feel good. You’ve had a hard day, right?’
You nodded subtly, closing your eyes at the tender touch of his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.
‘S okay, needy girl. ‘M gonna fuck that stress out of you, okay?’ He whispered against your lips as he buried his dick deeper inside you, gaining speed. You let out a moan at the sudden change of rhythm, arching your back as you got exactly what you needed. ‘You’re taking me so well. Feelin’– Feelin’ so goddamn tight around me.’ Heavy breaths leaving his mouth as he tried not to get carried away again. ‘Did you touch yourself a little before I came here?’
You swallowed hard as you wrapped your legs even tighter around his hips, urgently nodding.  ‘S okay. Told you it was gonna help. See how good it feels when you do as I say?’
You didn’t reply to his arrogant remarks, but you did dig your nails deep into his freckled back underneath his sweater, growing needier as his speed increased and things came back to the way they always were between you two.
‘Let me see you.’ He whispered. ‘Keep your eyes open. I– I wanna see you.’
You did as he said, fist holding hard onto his sweater, looking deep into his eyes while your vision turned blurry and the pleasure took over your body. ‘Needy thing’s been so tense lately, huh? Cum for me. Look at you. Fuck, look at you.’
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9 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You should’ve been suspicious by the fact Steve sent his driver to get you. You had woken up that Sunday and put on your comfiest clothes when the ringing bell made you frown your eyebrows. On Sunday the staff took the day off, and your dad went golfing, so you walked down the stairs of the lonely mansion to find Jack standing in his normal clothes, the absence of his usual suit making you narrow your eyes.
‘Good morning, Miss.’
‘Hi.’ You said shyly. ‘I thought you didn’t work weekends.’
The blood rushed to your cheeks by your stupid comment.
‘I usually don’t.’ He said. You could see he was repressing a smile. You realised then that this man was a hundred percent aware that you were fucking the son of his boss.
‘You could’ve called.’ You said.
He was standing against the door frame of his room, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt over his body, looking at you checking the movie tapes scattered around his TV.
He shrugged. ‘Figured I’d just send Jack since we had breakfast together.’
The truth was, he didn’t know what else to do. He had woken up that morning wishing for once to be at the school. He was sure he was getting a cold; the staff was off, and his parents were away on a trip. The house was so intolerably deserted that he knew the echoing silence was going to drive him insane. But now you were here.
He should’ve realised then.
You stood silent for a few seconds, walking around the bed, and sitting over the teal bedsheets.
‘He knows.’
Steve let out a soft laugh. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘He fucking knows.’ You said with a cheeky smile you were trying to hide, making his wider. ‘He drove me here and left. Believe me, he knows.’
He walked into the room, sitting on the chair of his mahogany desk opposite to your spot on the bed to have a better look at you. Strands of brown hair falling on his forehead, cheeks unusually flushed making you frown your eyebrows.
‘Is that a problem?’ He asked.
His eyes followed your body as you moved from the bed, knees on the floor of his bedroom as you crawled towards him. You enjoyed the way his chest moved when he sighed at the sight of you, stare following the perfect line from your back to your ass, eyelids heavy over brown eyes as you made your way to him in silence.
‘I don’t think so.’ You said sitting on your knees in front of the chair. Your delicate cold fingers found the cord of his sweatpants, carefully undoing it before moving the fabric down, freeing his already hard cock. His body filled with goosebumps with anticipation, dying to be inside your mouth.
Steve let out a deep breath at the sight in front of him. He had the whole day, the whole day for you to fuck in every single room of his lonely depressing house. His hands reached for your face as you started stroking his dick, but you couldn’t ignore the subtle shake of them as they moved to cup your face.
‘Why are you shaking?’ You said taking one of your hands over his on your face. But he simply shrugged, too mesmerized by the sight of your pretty mouth to answer you. ‘Steve, are you sick?’
He shook his head, but you kneeled forwards to put a hand on his neck to check his temperature. ‘You’re burni–’
‘Hey,’ He wrapped his fingers around your wrist. ‘It’s nothing, okay? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cold.’
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ You said then, standing up. His eyes followed you, turning soft at the sudden rejection.
‘Hey– No.’ His tone was urgent while he fixed his sweatpants. ‘C’mon, I’m fine.’
You crossed your arms over your waist, raising one of your eyebrows. ‘I’m not doing this unless you take something, Steve. I’m sure you’ve got a fever.’
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. ‘Right, okay.’
He didn’t say anything when you followed him down the hallway. But as you walked behind him, your mind took you back to eight years ago, walking past the bathroom where Steve had prepared you a bath, feeling the softness of the carpet under your feet, until you both made it to his parents’ bedroom.
You tried to hide your curiosity as you looked around that room you hadn’t really been in before, only imagining the corners of it you never got to see through the memories of your childhood. You remembered it bigger and darker. The empty fireplace and the king size bed illuminated in blue shades of winter since Steve didn’t bother turning the lights on when he walked in.
You followed him into the toilet as he opened the mirror cabinet, looking through the medicines. Standing next to him, you tried to read the labels on the bottles of pills, trying to find anything that could help with a mild cold.
‘Oh.’ You said lifting a hand and taking a glass bottle. ‘Do you have a cough?’
Steve grabbed the bottle from you then, leaving your empty hand in the air by the sudden reaction.
‘No.’ He said putting it back into its place.
You frowned next to him, but he didn’t look at you as he grabbed a little plastic bottle and placed it on the sink.
‘I, uh, I think it won’t hurt to have some. Just to prevent a cough, you know.’ The gesture had caught you so off guard you voice had come out softer than you intended.
He shook his head slightly, avoiding your eyes as he picked the glass on the counter and filled it with water from the sink. You instinctively took a step to your side, looking for his eyes with yours.
‘That’s not cough syrup.’ He simply said twisting the bottle’s lid and taking two pills out.
You realised what he meant as he threw his head back and drank the water swallowing the pills. How could you not? You more than anyone knew what it was like to find stashes of alcohol in the most random places. Behind the bookshelf, among your mom’s shoes collection, under your bed. Between your dolls.
He cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes focused on the way his hand emptied the remaining water down the sink. An awkward silence fell between you two as his hands rested on either side of the counter.
‘Do you think I don’t know my mom’s an alcoholic?’
The coldness of his tone didn’t surprise you, but you weren’t used to it, not when it came to this. You didn’t blame him though; you’d been in his position before. You knew the resentment overflowing his tone wasn’t directed at you.
‘I–’ Your throat was dry as you whispered, so you had to swallow hard before speaking again. ‘I thought maybe you just… ignored it.’
He scoffed, a bitter smile in his face as he shook his head and turned around to lean his back against the sink. He still didn’t dare to look at you. He didn’t know if he would be able to stand your soft stare when all he felt was anger. ‘Wish that was the case.’
You nodded in silence, cleaning your sweaty hands on your leggings.
Steve’s mind could only focus on the coldness of the bathroom and his parents’ room. On the fact he had pathetically had breakfast with the chauffeur that day, who had his own family he went to see after doing him the favour of picking you up from your dad’s place. He was sick and no one knew. He probably would’ve forgotten to take something if it wasn’t for you.
That realization didn’t make him feel comfortable.
‘I, uh– I’m actually not feeling well.’ He said running his fingers through his hair and looking down to the bathroom’s tiles. ‘Sorry. I killed the mood.’
You shook your head, voice still soft as you spoke. ‘Don’t apologize.’
He finally looked at you. It was like being ten years old again, almost hoping that if he blinked, he might get to see you wearing your pink pyjamas. He couldn’t stand the sadness in your eyes, your silent sympathy. But he didn’t want you to understand him. In fact, he wished then that you didn’t.
He remembered the little girl that got lost in a mess of uniforms after she came back to school in January 1977, the anger on his chest that first day after Christmas break when he saw you climb out of a black car all by yourself, too many bags for such a little girl. The fight his parents had, one that he had triggered when he mentioned how much he’d love a sister after you left. You turned into just another ghost of childhood.
You noticed how the soft smile on his lips was fighting to make it to his eyes as he looked down to his hands again. ‘You don’t, uh– You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I just don’t feel like doing stuff anymore.’
Your hands craved for the feeling of running them through his messy hair, cheeks turning even redder with the fever and the anger. But all you did was nod, and he opened his palm pointing at the door, inviting you to walk out first. You felt his steps behind you as you left his parents’ room in silence, coming back to the present, and pretending this house wasn’t haunted by the same ghosts that once wandered in yours.
Steve and you sat in front of the TV on opposite ends of the couch. You thought you two could hang out without making it awkward, but after half an hour of pretending to watch a Christmas movie, you snorted a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
‘You’re unbearable.’ He said still looking at the TV while his chin rested on his hand and his elbow on the couch’s arm.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said playing with the corner of the blanket that covered your legs. ‘I just– I find it funny how we spent last week fucking almost every day, but we can’t even watch TV together.’
‘Well, that’s because you were “stressed” with finals.’ He said drawing quotes in the air.
‘I was stre– Oh, damn.’ You stopped yourself when you saw the heaviness on his eyelids over his glossy brown pupils. ‘You look like shit.’
He let out a weak laugh, taking his fingers to his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘You need to lay down, Steve.’ You said, moving slightly to spread half of the blanket over him. Your body that close from his made him ever warmer, but he wasn’t going to admit that. You palm lifted to check his temperature, placing it on his forehead, your perfume starting to drive him crazy as you sat next to him. Maybe he should’ve fucked you, he was sure that would’ve helped. ‘You still have a fever.’
‘M fine.’ He said closing his eyes at your touch.
‘Can’t you just fucking do as you’re told?’
He opened his eyes to find you smiling cheekily, like a child. He was trying to supress his own smile, but you didn’t let him. Not when you licked your lips with so much sassiness, looking back at the TV to avoid his eyes.
‘Right.’ He said with fake irritation. ‘You got me.’
You weren’t expecting him to move to place his head on your lap, but you didn’t protest, putting the blanket over his body and noticing the slight shake of his hands as he wrapped himself with it. You followed his pretty profile with your eyes, dying to count the freckles on his neck. Steve sighed at the comfort of your fingers in his hair, looking annoyingly cozy under your touch.
‘See how good it feels when you do as I say?’ You mocked him as your fingers ran through the brown strands.
‘Jesus.’ He said taking his hands to his face. You could’ve sworn he was turning even redder under the blanket. ‘Stop. Please. Now.’
Your laugh echoed through the walls of the house like jingle bells as you made a mess of his hair and he shut his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve realised then, as you adjusted yourself to be more comfortable on the couch, that the rules were bending, and the lines were being crossed. But your smell was everywhere, and he was exhausted and so, so cold. He could hear the pattern of your breath from where he was, and the distant noises of the TV.
He woke up in total darkness. The digital clock next to the TV showed it was eight in the evening. His fever had lowered, and he felt sweaty and in urgent need of a shower. There was an untouched glass of water on the coffee table on top of a note saying there’s soup in the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your handwriting.
The phone ringed twice before he heard your voice on the other side.
‘Hello?’
‘I didn’t know you could cook.’ He said.
He swore he could hear you smile on the other side of the line.
‘I don’t.’ You laughed softly. ‘Dad brought it for you when I called him to pick me up. Are you feeling better?’
It took him a few seconds to reply, he had to take a breath to try to ignore the feeling in his chest.
‘Yeah. Just wanted to check you’d gotten home safe.’
He shut his eyes hard then, taking a hand to his face and hoping you didn’t misunderstand his words, but the short pause on the other side of the line made him think otherwise.
‘Right.’
‘Hey, uh, my parents just got here.’ He said then, eyes already used to the lonely darkness that surrounded him. ‘I’m gonna check on them. I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah. See you later, Steve.’ He heard you take a deep breath. ‘Get well soon.’
‘Thanks.’
He was still holding the phone’s handset against his ear when he heard you hang up.
He should’ve realised then.
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3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
The annual Christmas gala at the Country Club was supposed to be fun. Each year your mother commissioned your dresses in September, and every two weekends you visited the designer’s studio in the city to try them on. You usually spent all day getting your hair and nails done, and she overindulged you with desserts and nice food. It all sounded nice if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the one day of the year where your parents tended to argue the most.
You sighed silently in the limo as you sat in between them two. The tense silence was killing you, after an argument about your college applications had escalated into a fight about things they read on the newspapers: your dad’s new girlfriend, the alcoholic character in your mom’s new movie.
All you could do was sit in silence and roll your eyes until the three of you stepped out of the limousine and smiled for the photographer who stood at the entrance.
Every year it was the same. You walked together to a table that you usually shared with another family. Joyce Byers gave a speech. If you father had a relapse recently, you didn’t leave his side the whole night. If he hadn’t, you’d talk to a few people from school and gossip with your mom. This year it seemed you would just have to endure the tension between them.
It shouldn’t have surprised you when your parents walked towards the table and you saw him sitting down next to an empty chair wearing his suit, hair partly brushed and in place. How long had it been? More than a week since the last time you’d had his body over yours.
You licked your lips as the Harringtons greeted you, your dad and his quickly jumping into a conversation, and his mom giving you a hug, the smell of liquor on her pores making your stomach twist.
‘Hey.’ His eyes lingered on the black dress you were wearing, a strapless short gown with matching gloves. The velvet choker on your neck made him swallow hard as you sat next to him, your perfume suddenly reminding him how long he’d been without fucking you.
‘Hey.’ You repeated with a plain tone. You grabbed the place card on top of your plate and started playing with it as your parents and the Harringtons started talking.
It was all smiles and laughs between the two families as usual, except for you and Steve. He saw the way you frowned as you internally hated them for ruining your mood, the conversation about college making your muscles tense.
You didn’t even notice when the waiter extended a hand and poured wine on your glass, your sad eyes still focused on the gold lettering of your name.
‘What’s your deal today?’ Steve asked then, making your eyes lift.
You were about to shrug and said something defensive, but when you saw him grab the glass with the red liquid and switch it with his own empty glass, gesturing the waiter not to pour any more of it, your semblance softened.
‘College.’
 He let out a bitter laugh. ‘Understandable.’
You lowered your voice, moving slightly towards him so your parents didn’t hear you. His arm automatically extended over the arm of your chair, while his brown eyes looked at you attentively.
‘Mom wants me to go to Berklee. Dad wants me to go to Harvard– Don’t laugh!’
‘M sorry, ‘m sorry.’ He said licking his lips in a way that made you roll your eyes. ‘It’s just– It’s an honest problem, I get it. I just…’
He shook his head, eyes getting lost on the untouched glass in front of him.
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s cool that they have such high expectations of you.’
You didn’t reply, seeing the way his eyes turned slightly sad as the weight of his observation fell between you two. A part of him had unconsciously accepted that his parents would probably buy his way into college a long time ago.
‘M sure you’ll be fine.’ He said with a reassuring smile.
‘Look at them.’ The voice of Steve’s mom made you lift your eyes. Your mom was smiling, looking down to her napkin while Mrs. Harrington looked at you two with endearing eyes.
The heat rose to your cheeks and your chest hurt at the way she swallowed the last sip of her wine as she put her glass aside, eyes leaving yours to call the waiter.
Steve saw you clinch your jaw, sinking on your chair as his arm left the back of it to sit straight. His mom didn’t notice the change of atmosphere as you avoided everyone’s eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. A waiter came and refilled her glass as you felt her eyes still on you.
‘I aways wanted you two to get together.’ She said in a sweet tone.
‘It’s not–’
‘Jesus, mom.’ He interrupted you, standing up. His hands reached for the refilled glass of wine on her side of the table. ‘We’re just talking, for god’s sake.’
‘Steve!’ She said frowning as he placed her glass next to his.
‘You’ve had enough. It’s not even nine and you’re embarrassing yourself already.’
‘Steven.’ His dad’s eyes were serious when he said his name, the hardness behind them making you lower your own.
You heard him stand up, the chair’s loud noise making a few people look back at your table. You didn’t look behind your shoulder as he walked outside, getting lost between the crowd of the party. But you did look at the way his mother reached out for the wine glass, sitting back as an awkward silence fell on the table.
Joyce Byers asked everyone to be silent through the microphone then, and you saw the way they all looked up at the little stage on the other side of the room, except for your dad, whose blank stare was focused on the glass of soda in front of him.
You discreetly looked around the room trying to find Steve, a feeling of annoyance on your chest as you did. He had skipped dinner, and his parents had just sat there pretending nothing had happened, laughing and joking with yours. Mrs. Harrington was getting progressively drunk with the passing of hours, and your dad was already on his third glass of soda.
It was unbearable.
The merciless December cold hit your face and body as you stepped out in the parking lot, rubbing your arms with your gloved hands. You narrowed your eyes in the dark, finding his silhouette not far from where you were, leaning against his maroon BMW.
You held your breath as you walked towards him.
‘What are you doing?’ You said standing with your arms crossed at a comfortable distance from him, not entirely sure if you wanted to stay here.
He took the bottle of beer to his lips then, swallowing while looking at you. For some reason that made your blood boil, you felt betrayed in a way. Disappointed, even. But why?
He shrugged.
‘Just thinkin’, I guess.’ His sad tone made you even more frustrated.
You rolled your eyes as you walked the short distance and leaned against the car on the space next to him.
‘Did you drive here?’ Your tone was hostile as you tried to fill the silence with anything.
He nodded in silence.
‘I always bring my car to these things. Sometimes mom gets too drunk, and I drive her back while dad stays.’
You turned your head to your side, licking your lips. You didn’t want him to see your eyes had turned glossy. When you managed to calm yourself down, you looked back at him again.
‘You know you’re dealing with this in the worst way possible, right?’ Your tone was cold, and the scoff that followed it even colder. ‘It’s fucking pathetic.’
He laughed sarcastically as he took the bottle to his lips again, almost agreeing with you.
‘You’re so full of yourself.’ He said under his breath.
‘What?’ You said moving to face him, trying to understand if you had heard him right.
‘The fuck do you care how I deal with it?’ He snapped then, looking back at you. ‘‘M not entertaining your saviour complex, princess. You come here and scold me like this is your fucking business, as if we were together–’
‘I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Steve.’
‘And you think I want to be your boyfriend?’
You sighed looking to your side then.
It shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did.
Steve let out a frustrated growl before standing straight and moving a few steps away from the car. You stayed silent, standing straight as he emptied the contents of the almost full bottle on the pavement, clenching your jaw and looking at the chaos you two had created.
Steve walked back and opened the backseat’s door, his eyes looking at you through the messy strands of hair that fell on his forehead.
‘Get in the car.’
You tapped your heel on the pavement for a few seconds, avoiding his gaze and still clenching your jaw.
‘Please.’ You lifted your gaze to look at him, soft eyes and arched eyebrows looking back at you. His voice was an exhausted choky whisper when he spoke again. ‘Please, for god’s sake. Get in the car.’
You knew you should’ve said no. But what Steve, or anyone else didn’t know about you was that you had lived your whole life knowing that temptation would knock on your door one day. Just like it had knocked on your father’s door once. Just how it knocked on Mrs. Harrington’s door every day. What no one knew about you was that you had been waiting for it your whole life, and you were so glad you could finally open the door after yearning for it for too long.
His lips pressed against yours when he got in, and you pulled him in with your eyes closed, hearing the door locking as you laid on the backseat. Your fingers ran through those brown strands of hair you had missed so much, your needy tongue feeling the remains of beer in his, savouring the taste of alcohol for the first time in your life.
One of his hands cupped your face as you got rid of his tie and your demanding fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He kissed down your jaw and neck while rubbing his hardness against your thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth as he moved down to your chest.
You opened your eyes at the sound of fabric stretching, your boobs out of the dress he had pulled down with his fists, gently caressing them with his tongue, wet nipples turning hard under the dim lights of the parking lot.
He sat up to look at you, and you stared back with needy eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked with his shirt opened and jacket still on. He lifted the dress over your stomach, hands stroking your stockings from your knees to your thighs, squeezing your hips and taking in the beautiful sight in front of him.
You gasped when his hand found the skimpy lace of your thong, soaking wet for him, and he started to rub circles on it, making you arch your back as a sweet sigh left your mouth.
‘Love the sounds you make for me.’ He whispered putting your underwear aside and inserting two fingers inside. ‘So whiny and desperate.’
The car filled with the noises of your wetness as he fingered you, leaning forwards to get impossibly closer to you. His forehead rested against your temple, and you heard him take a deep breath as the warmth of his body made yours sweaty.
Steve started to rub his bulge against your leg, hips moving sensually and weight crashing you just nicely as you could feel him get harder. He released a deep growl against your ear, the pressure making him desperate to be inside you.
‘Steve.’ You whispered his name, a high-pitched thing that made his cock throb. ‘Please.’
He took his face of his hiding place, cupping yours with his free hand. Brown eyes soft despite the darkness behind them, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as if you’d disappear any second then. A choky breath stroked your lips as his nose brushed yours and he shook his head.
‘Want to take my time with you. I fucked up out there.’
‘No.’ You whispered back cupping his face with your hands and looking down to his lips before staring at the brown of his eyes again. ‘Nonono, please. I want you. Please.’
He looked into your eyes, hesitating. Your vulnerable tone had made his dick impossibly harder, those innocent eyes driving him insane. You did what he didn’t dare to, and your hands wandered to undo his belt and pants, pulling them down along with their boxers. He observed it all, breaths getting heavier as you grabbed his length while wrapping your legs around him before pushing him towards you with them.
You both held your breaths as he stretched you out, his partly open mouth hovering over yours while you both silently adjusted at the sudden friction.
‘Shit.’ He breathed out.‘You’re so wet.’ His arms caged you when he started to move, feeling your walls squeeze him. ‘You’re so fucking wet, baby, it’s so fucking hot.’
The pet name caught you off guard, making you moan and arch your brows as you bit your lower lip. He laughed softly, his pretty brown eyes lighting up before giving you a soft peck.
‘You like it when I call you that?’ His nose brushed yours softly, the tenderness on his tone making you weak. ‘Uh, baby?’
You shut your eyes, staying silent for a few seconds as the feeling of his cock inside you made you dumb, holding your breath as he fucked you deeper, refusing to answer.
‘Shit, you do, don’t you?’ He whispered against your lips. ‘Always so fucking needy, I fu– I fucking love it. Makin’ me wanna f-fuck you harder.’
So, he did. Hips crashing against you firmly and faster as you back arched and sweet moans left your pretty mouth. You felt his lips kiss your nose, the space next to your mouth, your cheek, your temple, making your legs weaker with every worshipping gesture.
‘Let me see you, baby.’ He said softly as his lips hovered over yours once again. Your shy eyes looked up at him while your hands played with the hairs of his chest. ‘There she is.’ He kissed you once again. ‘Love seein’ your pretty face while I fuck you. Tell me what you want.’
‘Want you–’ Your eyes closed in pleasure as his hand found your clit in between your bodies and you moaned your words. ‘Want you to fuck me harder.’
‘Yeah?’ His other hand found yours then, interlacing them above your head before licking your lower lip. ‘Want me to spoil you?’
‘Fuck.’ You whispered, rolling your eyes as you started moving your hips. ‘Steve.’
‘What, huh?’ He said nodding at you from above, that cockiness that turned you on so much overflowing his tone. ‘Are you getting bratty on me now, baby?
‘N-No. I just– Shit.’ He tilted his head, looking at your angelical face as your words got lost in between your breaths. ‘I need you. Just you. Please.’
Steve’s eyes turned soft then, leaning forwards to place his forehead on yours. His hand squeezed yours as you kept whining with a face full of agony, almost shivering at the pleasure you felt. He’d do anything to give it all to you, everything you needed, as long as he could hear that sweet voice of yours asking for it forever.
‘Tell me to stop.’ He whispered, making you open your eyes at the sudden request. But he kept fucking you as he studied your face, eyes following the lines of your collarbones, the curves of your bouncy boobs, your swollen lips and glossy eyes. ‘T-Tell me to stop. F-fuck, tell me to stop if you’re not mine.’
You blinked repeatedly at his words while he went deeper inside you, hips grinding fast, begging, trying to fuck a confession out of you. One he didn’t know if he was ever going to get.
The fear of never getting one made him hide his face on your neck, letting the air get filled with the noise of his growls and your heavy breaths as his movements turned violently needy.
His hand squeezed yours as you held onto him in confusion, pulling the hair on the back of his neck as he fucked you faster and you felt the pleasure overtaking your body. You should’ve asked him to stop there, but every time you opened your mouth to say something a loud moan left your lips instead. He was fucking you just how you liked it and you were certain he knew it, keeping you from acknowledging the hard truths that were being unleashed the more he turned your body into nothing.
You shut your eyes hard as you felt your walls closing around him, soft animalistic sounds leaving your throat as the bittersweet orgasm numbed your senses. But Steve didn’t stop, he kept fucking your overstimulated cunt in the same rhythm, wanting to do so until you forgot your name, or that you hated him, or that he was foolishly risking it all like an idiot. Fucking you until you forgot you had ruined him.
‘Ste–’
‘Shhh.’ He hushed you as his other hand held onto your hip and squeezed the skin there, his desperate voice eclipsed by the sounds of skin against skin. ‘Just– Just let me fuck you.’ He only moved his face to crash his lips against yours, trying to show you what he couldn’t say with words. ‘Let me fuck you, please. Just let me– Let me– Sh-Shit.’
He collapsed on top of you as his hot cum filled your pussy. Your eyes got glossy while he stayed there, body heavy and sweaty on top of yours, and you wondered what to do. Your shaky fingers hesitated on his scalp as you two tried to catch your breaths, and the lust vanished, leaving a void of emptiness behind.
You pushed his chest softly, gaze to your side as he sat up quickly. His eyes tried to find yours as he took your hair off your face, but he stopped when he noticed the way you shrunk under his touch, licking your lips as you searched for your shoes and underwear in the backseat of his car.
You heard him sigh, a shaky scared thing you weren’t going to acknowledge. He was right, you had this stupid saviour complex that put you in these absurd situations and you had to stop screwing it all in the name of it at some point.
‘C-Can you stay?’ Steve asked, but you shook your head repeatedly in response. His hand hovered over your arm, but after touching you so many times before, he still didn’t know how to hold you. ‘I-I’ll drive you home.’
‘You shouldn’t drive, Steve.’ You said putting your shoes on. ‘You were just drinking.’
‘Please. Heyheyhey.’ His hand found your face when you moved to open the door, and you had no other option than to look back at him with hurt in your eyes. Brown pupils mirroring the ache you tried to hide. ‘Let’s talk, let’s–’
‘No.’ you said holding his wrists and getting rid of his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not doing this. I can’t. We’re not doing this anymore.’
He swallowed, trying to understand how you could be so cold right after burning under his fingertips. He observed you in silence, eyebrows arching, and eyes hurt as his hands still lingered close to your body.
You stepped out of the car, closing the door behind you as you walked back into the party. You heard the sound of the other door closing over the clicking of your shoes.
‘Can you just listen to me for a second?’ His hand on your elbow made you turn back, finding him with his shirt still unbuttoned under his jacket, messy hair, and glossy eyes as he looked at you. It was so cold you could see his breath in the air.
‘Steve–’
‘I’m trying…’ He said in between breaths, the anxiety rising to his chest as he spoke. ‘To t-tell you… how I feel.’
You stood straight, shaking your head as you looked at your shoes. He tried to take a step towards you then, but you moved before he could, a clear warning of how things had drastically changed in a matter of seconds.
‘I’m not doing this, Steve. We’re too similar.’
‘Sweetheart,’ he said in an exhausted tone, word almost breaking at the end as he got the courage to cup your face in his hands. He was tired of not being able to touch you like wanted, love you like he wanted. ‘How’s that a bad thing, huh? Look at me.’
‘I don’t– Steve.’ You couldn’t help but melt at his touch as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘I’m not doing this.’
‘Listen–’
‘No, you listen. I’m tired of saving people.’ You said putting your hands on his wrists once again with the intention of getting rid of his grip, but they stayed there, holding on to his touch. ‘I’m exhausted. You know why I kissed you that day at school? Because my dad was about to grab a glass of whiskey and fuck my life over for the thousandth time. I was so desperate.’
His eyes got soft at your confession; his hands would’ve fallen from your face if you hadn’t been holding them.
‘And then–’ you said in a shaky breath, tears pooling on your eyes as you did. ‘And then there’s your mom.’
You knew you were hurting him, but there was a reason why you had kept yourself away from the Harringtons for so long. And now that you had crossed the lines, the possibility of Steve following her steps was too painful to bear.  
‘My mom.’ He took a step backwards, studying your face as his hands finally fell from your face, your own hovering over his wrists now.
You shut your eyes, feeling the tears run down your cheeks. Feeling selfish and scared. And desperate to have those hands cupping your face again.
‘I am terrified that you will end up just like her.’ You admitted crossing your arms over your body, the shameful admission making you shrunk.  
Steve’s eyes looked away from you, hands finally falling on his sides as he attempted to leave, but after taking a few steps away, he seemed to change his mind.
‘You think you’ve got your shit figured out, but you’re as likely to end up like your dad as I am to end up like my mom.’ He said, anger overflowing his tone as he looked at you. ‘You can’t stand the sight of her? Well, she can’t even look at you without remembering how badly she wanted another kid.’
Your eyes turned soft as his honesty, and he had to look away, rubbing his shaky hand against his mouth as the frustration took over himself.
‘D’you know there was a time we couldn’t even mention your surname in the house? Or talk about your dad? Do you even remember when my mom stopped talking to your mom?’ He laughed bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Probably not. But I do. I sure as hell do. You have no idea what it’s like to go through what she’s gone through. Or what it was like to see her miserable efforts to have another baby when she couldn’t even be my mom.’
You bit your lip as you look to your side, taking a deep shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the sight of you with your shivering arms and your long gloves and your short dress that couldn’t keep you warm like he knew he could.
You lifted your gaze when you heard him sniff and he just stood there, looking at the snowy ground. Looking at what you had created and destroyed together.
‘You think you’re above everyone else, but you’re just a coward, and I hope you know that.’ He said, before whispering under his breath. ‘I hope you fucking know that.’
You stood there as he left, walking past the BWM as he buttoned his shirt up and got lost in the maze of cars and snow. Your knees were shaky, and your nose blocked, but you still stood there cold, and alone. Thinking that maybe that’s what you deserved after all the damaged you had caused.
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CHRISTMAS DAY, 1984.
You woke up in the room of your mother’s house with the excitement of a little girl. Your blankets were soft, the heating was at the right temperature and for what you could see through the window of your balcony, it seemed like it had snowed last night.
You climbed out of the bed to walk downstairs, too excited to notice the absence of the smell of coffee in the air, the lack of the television sounds, the emptiness so unlikely in your house. On Christmas day you had breakfast with your mom, lunch at the Club, and dinner with your dad. After that, you went to his place, played one of his records and shared a can of soda to celebrate his sobriety. It was one of those days of the year where you felt the most grateful and lucky to have the life you had.
That’s why when you walked into the living room to find the Christmas tree empty you smile fell.
‘Mom?’ Your voice echoed through the house; you were about to walk towards the kitchen when you saw the note on top of the coffee table.
Emergency. Call Dad.
You stood there for a few seconds in shock before you ran fast to the phone. Your fingers shook as you dialled his number while feeling eyes watering. The line beeped. Someone picked up.
‘D-Dad? Daddy? Are you okay?’ You asked with a shaky voice.
‘Hi, flower. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.’ You felt your heart beating fast as he spoke. ‘I’m getting ready to pick you up, okay?’
‘W-What is going on? Where’s mom?’
‘Uh,’ You heard him hold his breath, realizing you didn’t know yet. ‘Martha had an accident last night. She was drunk and hit a tree. Your mom’s at the hospital with the Harringtons right now.’
You let out a deep breath, nodding as if he could see you. You felt so stupid then, as the tears pooled on your eyes. As if you could’ve done something to prevent it.
‘Right. I’ll go get ready.’
‘Okay, flower. I’ll see you in ten minutes.’
‘Okay.’ You said letting out a shaky breath. ‘Okay.’
Your dad parked outside the hospital, the white building looking dreary and lonely surrounded by the snow. You rubbed your hands on your jeans as you tried to warm your hands, but you didn’t think it was the cold what was making you shiver.
You took a deep breath, waiting for your dad to turn the engine off, but the heating was still on, and the car was still filled with silence as you looked at the blue gift bag next to your shoes. You thought maybe the excuse of giving Steve a Christmas present would help with the apology you knew you owed him. But now it seemed like a shallow idea.
‘Dad?’ You said lifting your gaze.
It was then you realised he didn’t want to look at you, making you bend forwards, looking for his eyes. He took his hands to his mouth, hesitating about what to say.
‘I, uh… I can’t go in there, flower. I just can’t go in there.’
You swallowed then, realising the real weight behind his words, the endless fight that you had witnessed throughout the years, from your childhood until now. You nodded silently, grabbing his hand over the console and squeezing hard.
‘Dad, you’re doing great. Christmas is always hard and you’re doing great.’
He shook his head, looking at the way his eyes got lost beyond the windshield. There was a long silence as he still avoided you, before he let out a deep breath.
‘The charity party. Bourbon.’
Your eyes dropped as you remembered that night, the way you left with Steve to save him the embarrassment of seeing his mom drunk. You knew it now; this wasn’t your weight to carry. You’d never get to win. Steve and you would never win.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke first.
‘I’m sorry, flower. I–’ He looked back at you then, reading the hurt in your eyes. ‘I know I’m a terrible dad, but I promise you I haven’t drunk anything else since then. And I try. I want you to know that I try.’
You shook your head, a sad smile on your face as you held his hand again. ‘That’s twenty-five days sober, daddy. It’s good. It’s enough, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He said breathing out. A soft smile lighted up his face then. ‘Thank you, flower. I’ll wait for you here.’
You nodded, letting his hand go, and climbing out of the car to face the coldness that awaited you.
‘There you are.’ Said your mom as soon as you walked into the hallway, blueish lights making you feel sick just by the look of them. She handed you a brown bag and a cup of coffee, and you tried to balance it all out on your hands. ‘Okay so, they’re on the third floor. She left surgery a couple of hours ago, and Roger’s calling the family while I deal with the paperwork of the rehabilitation centre.’
You blinked many times, digesting all the information she rambled about.
‘I’m trying to get hold of some contacts that helped me when you dad got in, so I need you to be useful. Those are for Steve; poor kid hasn’t even eaten since yesterday.’
Your heart beat hard at the mention of his name, thinking about him getting the news, and sitting all alone in this depressing place.
‘…And it’d be nice if you apologized for whatever you said at the Country Club.’ Your eyes lifted to find her looking back at you, tone firm and eyes serious as she spoke. ‘That kid’s been miserable all week. And I hope you’re taking your birth control just like I taught you.’
‘Mom.’ You felt the heat rising to your cheeks then. She started looking for something in her bag, taking out a cigarette case. You felt so stupid for thinking she wouldn’t notice what had been going on.
‘Don’t Mom me.’ She said taking out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth. ‘It’s important. Now go upstairs and be useful, I’m gonna make some calls outside. I need to get out of here, you know how much I hate hospitals.’
He was sitting outside room number 325. You stood outside the elevator like an idiot, feeling the cowardice all over your body and wishing you could just turn back and tell your dad to take you home. But then he lifted his eyes, brown and exhausted, and you had no other option than to walk towards him.
‘Hey.’ You said standing in front of him, he was looking at his shoes while you put the cup of coffee and the brown bag on the table next to him. ‘Mom got you breakfast. She said you haven’t eaten.’
He sniffed quietly, shaking his head. ‘M not really hungry, but thanks.’
You stood straight again, your shoes in front of his as you thought about what to do. Your hands ached to touch him, resting on either side of you, and you hated yourself for the mess you had made, knowing you probably needed him more than he did right now.
‘Steve…’
His head tilted forwards then, crashing softly against your stomach. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to inhale your perfume, hands finding your hips as your fingers instinctively ran through his hair and your pulse ran fast on your ears.
His firm hands wrapped around your hips, and he pulled you in, sitting straight so his head rested against your breastbone, one of your hands finding the back of his neck, and the other stroking his messy hair, leaving soft kisses that wouldn’t fix anything, but he still needed like oxygen.
You stayed there for minutes or hours, whispering I’m sorrys against his scalp while his soft sniffs echoed through the hospital’s hallway.
‘I owe you a can of soda.’ You told your dad as you stood on the threshold of Steve’s house.
He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it, flower.’
Your hug caught him by surprise, you noticed by the way his arms hesitated before wrapping around you.
‘Merry Christmas, dad.’ You said hugging him tighter. He laughed softly, patting your back.
‘Merry Christmas, flower.’ You took a step back, smiling at him. Even though Steve was already inside he was sure to murmur. ‘You take care of each other, okay?’
You nodded, smiling softly as you put one of your hands on your back pockets while the other held the blue gift bag.
‘Your mom’s coming over later, but if she can’t, make sure to call me.’
‘Sure, sir.’
He smiled at you before making his way to the car.
You closed the door behind you, thinking about the little girl that once walked in wearing her little Prada loafers, how scared she was as she made her way to the living room like you were doing now.
‘Hey.’ You said as you walked in. He was sitting in front of the tree, cross sitting with his back arched looking at the presents.
His eyes looked at you for a second before falling on your wrist.
‘S that for me?’ He asked. The smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, but you could see he had at least found it amusing.
You shrugged. ‘S got your name on it.’
‘Maybe Santa got the wrong address.’ He joked.
‘Maybe he did.’ You agreed, sitting next to him. You removed the bag handle from your wrist and placed the present in front of him. ‘Merry Christmas.’
He bent forwards then, grabbing a green bag from the mess of presents under the tree. You smiled as he placed it in front of you.
‘Merry Christmas.’
The silence was filled with the noise of the bags being opened, childish excitement taking over your body as your curiosity increased.
‘No way.’ You said taking out the pink pyjama set.
‘That’s uh…’ He said lifting the rocket pyjama pants you got for him, a soft laugh leaving his lips. ‘Thank you.’
You smiled at him, eyes looking down at your hands playing wit the pink fabric as you tried to find the right words to say.
‘I, uh… I owe you a huge apology, Steve.’  You licked your lips. When you looked up, his eyes were lost on the patterns of the rug, his pretty brown eyebrows frowning.
 ‘I–’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I just– It’s been a long day.’
You nodded then, looking away so he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes were getting glossy. You let out a sigh.
‘Okay.’
You wondered is this was how things would be from now on. The warmth you both shared in the hospital now gone, Christmas lights illuminating the room as the blue shades of winter sneaked into the living room. You followed him with you eyes as he stood up, taking the gift bag with him.
‘I’m gonna take a shower, but just make yourself at home, okay?’ He scratched the back of his neck in nervousness as the real weight of exhaustion fell on his shoulders.
You nodded from your place on the floor, seeing him hesitate for a second before walking upstairs.
Your eyes were absently looking at the TV as the sun set outside. Pictures of little Steve hanging from the wall made you bite your lip as you tried to concentrate on the movie, but the unbearable feeling of knowing he was all alone somewhere in the house was making your hands sweaty. So you put your pride aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
You were about to knock the door when it opened. Watery brown eyes and red nose as he sniffed softly. His hair was still wet, and the sight of him wearing a long sleeve top and the rocket pyjama pants would’ve warmed your heart if it wasn’t for the fact that he was crying.
‘Are you okay?’ You whispered, it was a silly thing to ask, but a good excuse to cup his face with your hands. You got closer, brushing your nose with his as his hands found your hips to hug you tight against him. Eyes shut as you cleaned his cheeks with your thumbs.
‘Can you just…’ He breathed out a tired whisper. ‘Can you just stay here, please? I just– I just need you to stay here, and we can just– just go back to normal when this is over, but–’
‘Shhh.’ You said stroking his nose with yours. He opened his eyes to look at you, eyebrows arched as he tried to hold onto you. ‘I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it, okay?’
He leaned in first, pulling you with him as his needy mouth kissed yours, fingers sneaking under your shirt as you both fell on the bed, and he rolled over to be on top of you.
It was cold. It was quiet. Too many words unsaid as the clothes fell on the floor and you both gave in once more. The taste of his tongue got mixed with his tears as his hands got rid of your underwear, and you let him use you. Your mouth opened to say his name many times, trying to get him to look at you, but every time his mouth found a way to be on yours, shutting you up with sweet desperation.
His breath pattern was getting unusually fast when you felt his dick on your thigh, and you pushed him softly but firm enough to finally break the kiss.
‘I, uh…’ He looked down, eyebrows almost frowning in pain as you tried to look for his gaze. ‘Maybe I c-can’t do this.’
‘Steve. Look at me.’ One of your hands cupped his face, placing his forehead on yours and the other was flat on his chest. ‘Let me see you.’
He looked up at you then, brown pupils confused at the sweetness on yours, glossy eyes staring back at him as you whispered. ‘I’m here. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.’
His eyes turned soft then, shaking his head lightly. ‘Don’t say it if–’
‘I love you.’ You repeated, this time looking for his lips with your mouth as his warmth made you feel needier. ‘And I’m yours. You can fuck me like I’m yours.’
He let out a deep shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His face fell on your neck then, and you released a gasping moan when he finally went inside you.
Your hands held onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. His mouth leaving sweet kisses on your neck, drawing a line towards your ear as he fucked you slowly, patiently.
‘loveyou. loveyou. loveyou.’ He repeated, his nose against your cheekbone as he did. ‘Hmm. ‘M never getting tired of tellin’ you. Gonna f-fuck you until it gets into your pretty head.’
You laughed softly, and he took his head out of its hiding place on your neck to look at you. Pretty brown eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the sound of your laugh.
He stared at your body, licking his lips and increasing his speed as your eyebrows arched and your eyelids got heavy with the pleasure. A whispery whine left your lips as you tilted your head, walls squeezing him deliciously.
‘What?’ You were suddenly turning shy at his stare.
‘Just love seein’ you.’ He said. ‘You’re mine, right?’
You nodded as you started moving your own hips, swollen lips partly open as you got lost in the pleasure. He cupped your face momentarily, before inserting two of his fingers inside your mouth. You made sure to make them sloppy for him, holding his wrist with your hands and blinking slowly as you did so. His eyes taking in the beautiful sight in front of him before taking them out to stroke your clit.
‘My good girl.’ He sighed, kissing your temple while he drew the softest circles on your sensitive bud. ‘My sweet girl.’
He placed his forehead on yours again, and your finger drew a line from his cheek to his lips before brushing his mouth with yours. ‘Wanna cum for you. Need you to fuck me harder so I can cum for you.’
He smiled softly, doing as you said, giving into your sweet request that he’d never deny. His tongue found yours as his hips crashed against you firmly, filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin.
He got lost in the way your pretty mouth bit his lower lip, in the way your hands scratched his back as he made sure to give you what you wanted, yielding completely to your overwhelming warmth.
You opened your eyes for him when you felt your walls starting to squeeze, and your breath started to get heavier, nonsense leaving your lips as you tried to tell him, but he was so deep inside you, and you were being fucked so nicely that all you could do was let out those choky moans that drove him crazy.
‘Cum like you’re mine, baby.’ He said. He begged. ‘F-fuck. Cum for me, needy thing.’
Your fingers squeezed the skin on his ribs as you moved your hips, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you were getting close. You tried to instinctively move your head to your side, but Steve held your chin firmly so you would look at him.
‘Uh.’ You gasped. ‘Baby, I’m–’
But you couldn’t finish any sentence until his nose brush with yours and the sweet, innocent peck he gave you finally sent you to the edge.
‘That’s it.’ He kissed your sweaty cheek as your frail body convulsed under his and he reached his own orgasm. ‘That’s it. S-Shit. So good– So good for me.’
You stroked his hair as he hid his head on your neck, body falling on yours and arms wrapping you, catching your breaths as the night fell outside and only the reflection of the snow lit up the room.
Steve sat back to grab the blankets on the end of the bed and wrapped you two in them, coming back to his space between your legs. You could notice the way he avoided your eyes as he fixed your hair, arranging the wild strands that fell on your face.
‘Hey.’ You said playing with the hairs of his chest.
His eyes lifted then, full of doubt as you looked back at him. He was almost expecting you’d take it all back.
But all you did was tilt your head, hand cupping his face and thumb brushing the little stubble that was growing. You felt him relax under your touch, eyes getting soft by the way you were smiling at him.
‘You need a nap.’ You whispered.
‘And you need a shower.’ He said in the same tone.
You laughed softly, but you saw the way his eyes had turned serious again.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ You said. You’d repeat it as many times as he’d need to hear it.
He moved then, laying on his back and opening his arm so you’d cuddle against him. You saw him swallow hard as you laid on your side, elbow on the pillow and jaw on your hand as you noticed the way his eyes got glossy.
Steve let out a deep breath when your hand drew a line from his forehead to his chin, relaxing under your touch. He took your hand and kissed your palm before holding it against his cheek.
‘Thank you.’ He whispered.
You shook your head. ‘Anytime.’
He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your naked body to him. He buried his head on your chest, letting himself be lulled by your smell and the warmth of your skin, brushing your skin with his thumbs.
He closed his eyes as you kissed the soft brown locks of his head, and he fell asleep on your arms, hearing your soft I love yous in the distance, and knowing it was true. Two lonely kids stitching each other’s wounds on Christmas day.
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this is a repost, because i had a few problems with the tags. tagging everyone who kindly interacted with the first post (if you’re not here it’s because tumblr didn’t let me tag you but ily anyways): @claire0531 @liacrain @aurora-austen @stevesbeautifulhair @idontevenlistentomitski @pumpkinonice
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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chxrryhansen · 2 months
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౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐑𝐘
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Pairing; Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader
Warnings; smut, dark themes, non con, breeding kink, oral- both receiving, degrading, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, huge daddy kink, choking- to the point reader can’t breathe, dumbification, dacryphillia, spanking, steve is very dark in this, no aftercare!! i think thats it? Minors please DNI!!!!!
Summary; Steve Rogers, your boyfriend, the man everybody loved, his soul soft, standing against all evils. Until he got a taste of that sweet power. He became hungry. Now, you have no choice but to obey his rules. Can you bring him back to the light? Or is it too late? (it’s definitely too late)
here we have my first ever full fic! firstly i would like to give a huge thankyou to @dbnightingale24 for giving me the confidence and tips to write this! and another big thankyou to @evansbby and @hansensgirl for inspiring me in the first place for begin writing💘it’s around 3k words and i really put my all into this so please don’t forget to comment and reblog, i would love to hear all of your feedback!🫶🏻 much love, cherry.
₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧
Steve Rogers, the man everyone respected, the man everyone believed in, looked up too. The man you used to cherish, his sweet boyish nature drawing you in from the moment you met. His pearly blues that used to soften as they fell on you, his gentle touch as he caressed your hair, the tender, loving kisses he used to leave all over your body.
Until Fury resigned that was.
Steve was officially the new director of shield, to which nobody opposed, i mean, who would right? He was Captain America, the man out of time. He was perfcet for the role. Strong willed, commanding yet understanding, he had respect for those beneath him and most of all he was compassionate, something that was hard to find in a good leader. This didn't last for long, of course.
Steve shortly became power hungry, his morals became more sick and twisted as his methods became more sadistic. He was violent, cruel…volatile. There was no bringing back Steve Rogers. The problem was he dragged everybody else down with him, nobody dared to stand up to Steve, too frightened of the consequences.
Tony couldn't talk Steve down, he tried for a while, attempted to reach out to him, guide him back to the light...but nothing worked. Tony couldn't do it, nor could you, not even his best friend of over a decade could sway his newfound mindset. You all figured it was best to keep your heads down from now on and follow Steves orders, no matter how out of line they seemed.
Not that you had a choice anyway.
Bucky was short to follow in his footsteps as his second in command. Both cruel and unforgiving. Your friendship with Bucky was practically non-exhistant, you no longer had movie nights together, giggling with big buckets of popcorn.
A simple nod of his head as he passed you down the hall was about as much as you would get. Steve wouldn't allow it now anyway.
Steve's display of affection changed alongside him, the love he made was no longer passionate, or gentle. In fact, he didn’t make love at all anymore… what he made was simply rough, hard, fucking.
The marks he left behind were no longer loving hickeys while he whispered in your ear, moaning sweet nothings as he gently thrusted his hips into your own. His eyes, gleaming with nothing but pure devotion.
They were bruises... bruises from how hard his hips slammed into your ass from behind, his grip tight on your hair, pulling and tugging as your skin became flustered at the impact of his thrusts. You missed the man he was. You often thought about that life while his cock was busy destroying your cunt. He didn’t care about your pleasure anymore, you were nothing but a hole for him to fuck.
From a distance you could hear Steves heavy boots storming down the coridoor. The sound was instantly unsettling. Your body recognising the noise as a trigger for an oncoming threat, sending you into alert mode.
You stood from your office chair on shaky legs, your posture rigid as he turned the corner to enter. His 6'4, stoic figure coming into view, casting a shadow that filled the room. His broad shoulders spread wide, his presence making your tummy tighten with unease.
He said nothing as he stared down at you, your fingers tugging at your short pink skirt- which he had chosen out for you this morning, the same way he customised your figure every morning. Claiming your dumb, baby brain was incapable of choosing an outfit that proved elegance and professionalism. In reality it was the complete opposite.
He liked to dress you in short skirts, ones that left little to the imagination, your asscheeks peeking out most days and revealing blouses, your tits practically spilling out of your shirts. You were highly sought after by the males at the compound before he came and scooped you up a few years ago.
They knew you were his, i mean he was your boyfriend for several years, you were what the female agents used to coo at, naming you as "couple goals". Where Steve went, you went, and vice versa. You were always seen smiling and giggling together, tag teaming on missons and holding hands as you explored the compound.
But, as steves power grew so did his insecurity. His possesive nature grew strong, wanting, no, needing to show other men you belonged to him, and only him. And you always would, whether you liked it or not.
"Get on your knees."
"Wh-What?"
"Get on your knees. You know i don't like to repeat myself." he growls while pushing your office door closed with one arm from behind, not daring to take his eyes of you.
You gulped as he stepped forward, caging you inbetween his thick biceps as you lean against your desk. One thing he was always good at was making you feel small. Even before all of this. Of course it wasn't anywhere near as threatening as it was now. He used to joke about how tiny you were compared to him, how he could pick you up with one hand, it was cute how big and protective he was of you.
Now, he used it to his advantage. He knew you feared him. He knew that you knew, you would never be able to run from him. He would overpower you every damn time with his brute strength.
There was no running from Steve Rogers. His thick beard scraped against your sensitive skin sending shivers down your spine as he groaned into your neck, your scent driving him wild.
He whispered darkly in your ear "Final chance. Get on your knees. Now, or you won't like what'll happen if you refuse me again."
You inhaled sharply, goosebumps spreading across your body in pure fear, or ecstacy. It was hard to tell these days. Steve had conditioned you so well to his own liking that even your body reacted to him in ways you would never fully understand. Or so he says.
Slowly you inched down towards the floor with your knees bent. The cold, rough flooring instantly proving to be uncomfortable as you figited. But Steve didn't care about that, why would he? His thick hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyelids.
His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, he then pushes further, massaging your tongue as saliva begins to pool in your mouth. Removing his thumb slowly, he tugged on your bottom lip with pinched fingers. Before you even realised what was happening he shoves two fingers down your throat.
You sputter and gag around his thick digits, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, dripping onto the hard floor. Your eyes squeezed shut in pain as tears began rolling down your flustered cheeks.
His other hand is quick to grip your hair, tugging harshly. "You fuckin' look at me while daddy gags you with his fingers. Actin' like you don't get off on this shit. You love it. Say 'thankyou daddy'." he mocks with a high pitched tone.
Desperately trying to get the words out, you mumble around his fingers, seeming incoherent. He laughs darkly at your poor attempt, shoving his fingers deeper down your throat, gagging you one last time before pulling out.
"You gonna' be a good whore n' suck my dick? Huh? You fuckin' slut." His hand reaches down, pulling your shirt to the side, making your tits spill out. You hear him let out a loud groan, his pants tightening at the sight of your bare chest. He pinches your hard nipple roughly, rolling it roughly inbetween his index finger and thumb as you cry out, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.
He shushes your cries gently as he begins to massage the same spot he previously assaulted making you keen with pleasure.
He had a thing for associating pain with pleasure, confusing your silly little brain into thinking the hurt he put you through was a good thing since pleasure soon followed. That he was rewarding you.
"Unzip me. Cmon' you dumb baby, take daddys fat cock out."
Listening to your own heartbeat in your ears, your head pounding with adrenaline, your fingers itch towards his pants. Which was apparently too slow for his liking as his grip on your hair tightens, making you sqeeze your eyes shut briefly before opening them, not wanting to anger him further.
You hurridly unzip his pants, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. It's angry head pointing towards you as he grips the base with his other hand, slowing pumping his shaft over your face.
He pushes his bulbous tip into your closed lips, smearing his hot precum all over them. When you refuse to open your mouth he growls, pinching your nostrils closed. Feeling the air begin to leave your lungs, you gasp for breath and he's quick to shove his dick down your throat.
Gagging at the intrusion you cry harder, your lips stretching to fit around his thick length. his hips thrusting into your face as he fucks your throat harshly.
"That's it, you whore. Take daddys dick all the way down your throat. You fuckin' remember this the next time you try to refuse me."
His hand which was previously tugging at your hair moves towards your throat, holding you in a tight grip.
"Fuck... i can feel my fuckin' cock in that tiny throat of yours. Love it when you cry f' me, just makes me want to fuck you even harder, sweet girl." he grunts loudly over the sound of your gagging. Steve swiftly pulls his dick out as you keel over, coughing and sputtering, your throat sore from his brutal assault.
Before you even have a chance to gain your breath, his thick hands grip your shoulders, pulling you upright, bending you over your desk. Your legs shaking as he positions you so your ass is sticking out.
Lowering himself to the ground, he grips the flesh of your ass, squeezing roughly as he lifts up your skirt, briskly pulling your panties to the side. He shoves his nose into your pussy, groaning in delight at your sweet scent.
"Fuck i could live inbetween these slutty legs, your cunt's always ready for daddy, huh? Trained you so well." Your sticky juices smeared across your legs, dripping with desire, his facial hair bristling against your thighs making you squirm.
He mercilessly pushes his tongue as deep as it can go into your hole. You whimper as he laps up your wetness, his tongue prodding at your insides. Your arousal soaking his beard while your pussy clenched around his tongue. He pulls away for a moment, “God, how do you taste so fuckin’ good.” he groans.
Reaching back to grip his hair in your small fists, you go to push his face back into your cunt, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. His hand grips your wrist tightly, pining your arm to the desk, a sure reminder of who's in charge, seeming as you had forgotten your place. “Stay fuckin’ still or i’ll stop. Don’t you ever pull that shit again.”
You moan lewdly as he moves to latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Groaning into your pussy as he fists his cock.
Your eyes begin to roll back as your orgasm itches closer. Steve, realising this, pulls away once again. Your juices stringing from your clit to his lips as you cry out, your orgasm beginning to fade.
"Stop with the fuckin' whining. Daddy's gonna' fuck you now. Tell daddy how much you want his cock...Cmon. No need to act all innocent now." he pressures at your hesitation.
"P-Please daddy wan' you to fuck me."
"You can do better than that." Steve husks, giving your ass a harsh smack from behind, knowing your skin will blister from his force.
Your lips quiver as you cry, "Please! N-Need your cock inside me so badly, wan' you to destroy me for anybody else. Wanna' feel you in my cervix daddy, Jus' wanna make you feel good. Love how full you make me feel. Please...I-I'll die if you don't fuck me. Pretty pretty ple-."
and before you can finish your sentence your cut off by your own scream, his cock dissapearing inbetween your folds as he bottoms out with a singular thrust. Your legs become slack as your body spasms at the intrustion, his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as you squirm, instinctively trying to escape his hold.
"F-Fuck, Y-Your so big daddy. It hurts so bad, p-pull out!"
"Shut up." he groans as his thick hand covers your mouth from behind. “Gonna fuckin’ dog fuck you til you can’t think of anything but this fat fuckin’ cock you dirty little slut, you hear me?” he practically growls as he begins to fuck you.
The sound of clapping skin begins to fill the room, agents around the compound sure to hear the way his dick bruitalises your cunt.
"Such a filthy girl i have, always so desperate for daddy to fuck you, even when you try and deny it, i know this sweet pussy would never lie to me." He coos in your ear as you sob, your face wet with tears and saliva.
"My messy whore, see what happens when you don't listen to me? You see what a mess you become? Fuck. You look so pretty like this, this is how you should always be, filled to the brim with my fat dick.”
Steve had always loved fucking you braindead, watching as your eyes glaze over and your tongue begins to hang out of your mouth, drooling all over yourself. It made him feel powerful, like you were dependent on him. Which you were in a sense, always so needy and desperate for him to fuck you.
The impact of his animalistic thrusts turn your skin raw as he speeds up. His arm wrapping around your waist, pressing you close to him as he spreads his legs further apart, hitting a new angle inside your pussy. You let out a loud wanton moan as his balls slap against your clit.
“F-Fuck yes! H-Harder daddy.”
“Yeah? You like that? I know you do, it’s okay. Is my little girls brain goin’ fuzzy? Huh? Poor girl.” Steve mocked, amusement clear in his tone. "M' gonna' cum. Daddy please can i cum?" you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening, a warning that your orgasm was near.
"Yeah baby? You gonna' cum for me you dirty whore? Go ahead, cum all over my dick. Can feel you clenching around me, grippin' me like a fuckin' vice."
Your cream coats his length as you let out a muffled cry, biting your lip harshly as you cum.
"T-Thankyou daddy. Feels s-so good..." you babble, your thick cream creating a ring around the base of his cock. Your weight giving out once again as Steve holds you, smirking as he watches you come undone, giving you no escape from his relentless thrusts.
His thick shaft pummeling your insides as you scream with ecstacy, your pussy throbbing as he fucks you through your high.
"F-Fuck look at that... love watching your cream leak around my cock, taking this dick so good for me. Gonna' cum inside you...yeah? You want daddy to fill you up?" he groans as his own orgasm nears, talking himself through it.
"God, this cunt treats me like a fuckin' king. It's coming baby, daddys gonna cum, Oh fuck fuckkk." his hips twitch and his balls throb as his load begins to fill you, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum into your pussy. Moaning at the sensation of his warmth inside you.
“Take my fuckin’ cum. That’s it, good girl. Love watchin’ your pussy swallow my hot fuckin load, bet you love it too, hm? You slut.” he pants, exhausted from the brutal fucking he just gave you.
He snaps out of it almost instantly, pulling out without warning and tucking his softening cock back into his pants.
Giving your ass a harsh smack, he steps back. You turn to look at him, your eyes glazed over. He stares at the ground with no emotion as he combs his locks with his fingers, making himself seem presentable.
Hope fills you, your heart races as you lick your lips in anticipation, wondering if he will stay to comfort you and hold you the way he used to many months ago.
But he doesn't. You get nothing but a short glance as he turns to exit your office, slamming the door shut on his way out. You slump down against the floor, a complete mess.
Your soft cries turn to sobs, breathing rapidly, your hands gripping your hair as you raise your knees to your chest. It was almost as if he had you in a trance when he was burried inside your cunt, as soon as he was done it was like the fog in your brain had cleared.
People told you there was no bringing the old Steve back, that your sweet, caring boyfriend was gone. Replaced by a monster.
You didn't want to believe them... but maybe you should've.
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kyo-00 · 1 month
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𖣠 ꒱ THAT’S WHY I FUCKED YO' BITCH!
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MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI !!
content: nsfw; smut; afab!reader; cheater!reader; multi headcanon w jjk men; blowjob; backshots; recording; mating press; rough sex; hate sex, kinda; reverse cowgirl; not proof read lawl
w.c: 0.5k - 0.6k - 0.8k - 0.5k
n/a: yes i was listening to hit em up by tupac when i came up w this lol. i dont condone cheating but i saw this somewhere and had to write abt it, also not me posting about cheating on valentines day lolll. english isn’t my first language and im still a rookie at writing so bear with me please! any feedback/request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3
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TOJI
Toji gripped the back of your head, fucking your face relentlessly, his cock hitting your throat so good and triggering your gagging reflexes - your mascara ruined by your tears and staining your cheeks in black streaks. He was fucking seething. How dare you put him in second place? Put your boyfriend before him, really?
"Does he fuck you like I do? Does he fuck you this good?" Toji hissed, bucking his hips into your mouth. You knew he was pissed you chose to cancel your date with him to go with your boyfriend instead - the veins popping on his scowling face gave it away. His grip on you was borderline painful, giving you no breaks like he'd usually do, your jaw became sore. A fine coat of sweat stuck his dark bangs onto his forehead, his abs clenching at each deep thrust. 
"No, the fuck he doesn't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be gagging on my cock right now, fuckin' whore," Toji sneered, pushing your head down til your nose touched his pubes, choking on his girth.
You dug your sharp nails into his thighs, shutting your eyes as tears rolled down. 'Too much! Too much!', you thought, hitting the side of his thigh with your hand, desperate to fill your lungs with air. Toji yanked your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth - his fist in your hair still firm as you gasped and coughed for air.
A wicked grin crept up Toji's face as he grabbed your phone on the side of the bed. You ignored how or when he got your phone password, but your heart dropped when your camera flash pointed toward you. "T- Toji, what're you-?"
The camera focused on your dishevelled face, half-lidded eyes with cum and drool glistening around your swollen lips, barely any thought crossing your mind, too cock drunk to think. Toji let go of his grasp on your hair and pushed his thumb past your lips, keeping your mouth from closing. “Why don’t you show him how much of a slut you are, hm? Go on, show him how good of a cocksucker you are f’me,” grabbing his shaft to tap his heavy cockhead on your wet lips.
You moaned, pursing your lips to let a thread of spit fall onto his cock and sticking out your tongue to suck on his tip, your tongue lapping across his frenulum before taking him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down eagerly, pumping with your hand what your mouth couldn't reach, the salty taste of his pre and cum set on your tongue as you engulfed him in wet heat. 
"That's it, good girl, milking my cock dry with those pretty lips of yours," he huffed, placing his hand back on your head, guiding your movements as he recorded you on your phone, sending each and every video to your boyfriend, who waited for you watching tv back at your place, thinking you were out with your friends.
SUGURU
Suguru yanked your head back, his hand trailing up to your throat, wrapping his thick fingers around and squeezing it enough to make you feel lightheaded. "Forget about your fucking boyfriend, darling," he said with some bitterness in his words, his lips close to your ear, "you're with me now, got it? I fuck this tight pussy more than he does anyway," he nuzzled on the side of your neck, bruising your skin as he rutted deeply, his hefty balls striking your cunt at each thrust.
You grunted, drool running down your chin and breathy moans spilling out your lipstick-smeared lips, his thrusts clouding your mind. As much as you wanted to come up with a snarky remark of yours, nothing but wanton moans came out of your mouth. The squelching of your pussy and Suguru's babbling nonsense ringing in your ears.
Suguru felt his cock pulsing when his eyes locked with yours. Your brows knit together, glaring at him with that fucking fire in your eyes. That same fire that got him going and yearning for you when he remembered you were with your so-called boyfriend and not him. He should be the one taking you on corny dates, spooning you every night in a warm embrace and fucking you dumb as he pleased, not that fucking idiot. "Fuck off Sugu, you're just a quick fuck for me," you spat, lying through your teeth.
Suguru felt a pang in his chest and his blood boiling. That's it? A quick fuck and nothing more? Lies. He buried your face on the bed, pressing your face with his foot, angling his hips to thrust deeper and harsher inside your coiling walls. "You fucking liar," Suguru rasped, his cock abusing your g-spot, "keep lying to yourself, sweetheart. We both know that's not true," he spanked the fat of your ass harshly, branding you with his handprint -a nice mark for your boyfriend to see later- your dripping cunt clenching around his dick at the stinging pain left on your skin.
He was way more than just a quick fuck to you, you knew that, but you weren't going to give him the pleasure of admitting it either (or you didn't want to admit it to yourself either). Suguru knew what it meant to be with you, yet his greediness got the better of him and craved more than a casualty with you. Changing the status between the two of you would only complicate things further for you, and you wanted things to stay just as they were, at the cost of two men's hearts.
You keened as his foot pressed you further and further against the mattress - your ass burned from the rough spanking he gave you, yet it had your back arching and toes curling. It took one more deep pound into your cunt for you to scream out his name, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your pussy fluttered and gushed on his cock.
"Shit, so damn tight," Suguru winced, fucking you through your orgasm, pumping into your sensitive pussy. He pulled out of you to turn you over your back, pressing your legs close to your chest. Suguru glided his cock up and down across your puffy lips, drawing weak mewls from you.
"I fucking hate you," he hissed, sliding inside your wet cunny with ease, picking up his brutal pace in you. Feeling dangerously close to his climax, Suguru growled, trapping your lips into a messy, passionate kiss. "I really, really hate you," he panted between smooches, his words sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than actually meaning them.
HIROMI
"Right there, huh?" Hiromi said, holding your wrists behind your back as he rocked into you. You whimpered as his cock stroked your walls tenderly, writhing underneath his slender form.
If cheating on your husband wasn't bad enough, cheating with his defence attorney made it worse.
But wasn't this karma? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. It was nothing compared to the years of misery he gave you at his side. Your heart fluttered inside your chest when Hiromi spoke to you softly, his tone warm enough to melt under his touch, making sure you felt at ease with him, never pressuring you into anything you didn't want to - a great contrast to your husband's coldness and distant tone.
"You're so beautiful," his lips grazing against your flushed cheeks, "so damn perfect," Hiromi murmured, dropping soft kisses along your jawline, his left hand travelling north to cup your breast, pinching and pulling it. "He's an idiot for not seeing your worth as a woman."
Soft moans of his name fell from your lips, throwing your head back to press your lips on his, sinking your sweet sounds into the kiss. There was some doubt within you whether he meant what he said or it was just the heat of the moment since you didn't see him outside the courtrooms (and hotels). You questioned the genuineness in his words, but those words were the ones that made the heat spread under your skin and made you long for more of his affection, more of his touch, more of him.
"Hiromi," you breathed, your skin prickled as his teeth latched onto your shoulder blade, sucking and licking the bruised area gently as an apology. "You can't leave marks, you know that," you murmured with weight in your heart, worried that his love marks would be seen by your husband.
"Let him see them," he cooed, dropping a chaste kiss on your shoulder, "he still needs me to win his case anyway, and if he ever tries to land a hand on you, I can always put you in touch with a colleague and start your divorce proceedings."
Divorce, the word echoed in your mind. You'd be lying to yourself if you hadn't thought about leaving your husband, even before starting your affair with his attorney.
"I hear those gears revving; you're thinking about it, are you?" Hiromi purred, the pad of his fingers skimming feather-light over your silken smooth skin, "Leaving your excuse of a husband."
His fingers reached for your sensitive bud, circling it in eight. The thought of you becoming a free woman and him finally being able to court you appropriately got Hiromi worked up, his cock throbbing in your sweet cunt. He let go of your wrists as he picked up his pace in you, his strokes deep and lusciously suffocating.
"F-fuck, I can't wait to be able to fuck you without going behind your husband's back," he groaned, jackhammering into your cunt. You gasped at his newfound pace, fisting the silk sheets underneath. With your mind fogged in lust, you cried at the aimless swat of his hips against your ass, your legs quivering and about to give up. Hiromi was taking you to cloud nine, curling your toes in pleasure and shutting your eyes with your lips parted, his movements drawing his name from your throat in broken sobs.
"it pisses me off to see you walk away three steps behind your idiot husband after trials," he frowned, his body shuddering at the clench of your coiling walls around his girth, cream rings of your arousal coating the base of his cock. 
"I think about you a lot, y'know? You and this perfect pussy of yours," he panted, kneading the fat of your ass, "do you also think about me when I'm not around? tell me."
Dizzy, you nodded, forcing your eyes to open and look back at his blissed-out face as he pounded your wet cunny. "Yesss," you slurred, pursing your wet lips into a pout, loving his strokes in your sweet spots and sending your nerves on fire, the band of coiling pleasure within you about to snap. "Hiromi, I wanna- lemme cum-" you whimpered.
Listening to your sweet pleas, he stammered, his voice dropping an octave, "Shit— Cum, baby, cum on my cock," Hiromi felt his dick pulsating at your spasming walls, also close to his climax.
Waves of pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak, collapsing onto the mattress in shattered breaths and your heart racing. Hiromi winced and pulled out, earning a whine from you at the empty feeling. Jerking himself off in erratic tugs, warm ropes of cum fell on your back down to your ass—your name on his lips as orgasmed, lolling his head back in pleasure.
The tangy smell of sweat and sex lingered in the room, the sounds of ragged breathing echoing. Fulfilled, Hiromi gulped, licking his lips wet as he plastered his body on the mattress to your side, pulling you into an embrace. "That was..." he sighed, still dazed from his high and his chest heaving, "...amazing."
SUKUNA
"Fuck- just like that, baby, bounce on my cock," Sukuna grunted quietly, squeezing on your waist as you fucked yourself on his dick, your ass juggling at each bounce. 
The sounds of smacking flesh and shallow breaths echoed louder in your ears than the indistinct voices from the TV. Wanton moans were drawn out of you as he guided your movements on top of him, his cock making you forget about everything surrounding you and focus on the sensations it sent throughout your nervous system.
"Damn, you know how to fuck— this pussy always feels so tight and incredible around my cock," Sukuna rasped, his teeth latching onto his bottom lip to quiet his grunts and hear your lewd sounds. Something about you crying out his name while your cunt sucked him in so deliciously always did things to him; it made him want to hear them more often than every two weeks as your encounters occurred.
A buzzing sound echoed from the side of the bed, bringing Sukuna slightly out of his trance. Your phone screen lit up, your boyfriend's name written on it, being the third time he had called you tonight. "He never gives up, does he?" Sukuna rolled his eyes and sneered, picking your phone up.
"Leave it. I'll answer later," you panted, waving your hand dismissively as you kept up with your movements atop Sukuna— feeling too good to care about some boyfriend you had.
Sukuna's hand travelled down to your bottom cheeks, squeezing the plush of your ass. "Nah, I think I'll answer now; you keep up riding my dick," he said, pressing the green button on your phone, "hello?"
"Hello? Who's this?" your boyfriend asked, his voice carrying bewilderment in his tone.
A wicked laugh came out of Sukuna's lips as he met your thrusts with his hips, drawing louder moans out of you. "I'm fucking yo' bitch. She's a real freak in the sheets," Sukuna answered, small moans escaping him.
"What? Y're fucking with me, right?" You could hear the anger simmering in the man's voice, befuddled, "cut the bullshit, who the fuck is this?" he reiterated, his voice sharp-edged.
Ignoring the question once again, Sukuna huffed, "I'm fucking your girl— Shit- you feel so good," an impish grin tugged the corner of his lips, pumping his shaft in and out of you.
Mixed sounds of your moans and his grunts were heard through your phone. After a pregnant pause, Sukuna spoke again, "She's mine now, got it? This pretty pussy loves taking my cock in, so fuckin greedy f'me," he sighed with pleasure, jaw-slacked.
"Alright, Imma pull up and beat the shit out of you," your boyfriend finally said before hanging up, a snicker leaving Sukuna as he heard him, not worried a single bit. In fact, he was thrilled by the idea of your boyfriend trying to fight him; that way you'd finally realize who you should be with.
He dropped the phone to a side of the bed, placing now both hands on your body, ravishing in the tightness of your cunt. "'kuna, you're gonna get me in trouble," you whined, looking back at him with your brows frowned in pleasure.
"What, scared he's gonna actually come here and 'beat me up'?" Sukuna mimicked your boyfriend's voice, not really worried, "Don't worry about that; I can fight," he answered, his abs clenching and glistening in sweat and other bodily fluids as he continued on fucking you stupid.
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mphountitled · 2 months
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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞
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Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader
Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you
Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking
He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him
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"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.
In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.
A torture chamber.
You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-
"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."
You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.
What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.
"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.
"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"
Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.
"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.
It should be vile.
Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?
With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.
The games are on.
Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.
They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.
As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.
Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.
With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.
"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.
"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.
Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.
His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.
You truly are furious with him.
"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"
Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"
"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.
"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.
Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.
"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.
"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."
Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."
The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.
Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.
"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.
"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."
A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"
"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.
You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"
"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.
It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.
"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"
"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.
"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.
A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.
While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.
"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.
"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.
His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.
"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.
"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.
"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."
"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.
As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.
"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"
"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.
It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.
He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.
"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.
"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.
"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"
"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.
"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"
"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"
You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.
You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.
"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.
"I want you too."
Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.
"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"
"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"
"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.
"F-Fuck-"
"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.
His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.
"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"
"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.
"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.
"You'd smoke anyway."
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assassinsblade · 3 months
Text
Forget Me Not | 6
You are awaiting Azriel's return when chaos erupts.
WC: 6.4k
Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Violence, death, blood, angst, feelings, and dare I finally say some fluff?
a/n: There will be one more part!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7
-------------------------------------
Azriel never responded to your letter. You hadn't exactly expected him to, but you still couldn't help the pang of disappointment that settled in your gut when day after day went by in silence.
You hoped he was getting the healing he needed, the healing he deserved. The thought of your friend hurting because of your words had you itching to write another letter to him, but you knew to give him the time and space to map his feelings out. It would be better to say all you needed to in person anyway.
That didn't stop your heart from wandering each day though. You thought of his scarred hands and gentle touches. The way he had always been soft with you, as if he were nervous you would think him anything other than kind-hearted. The way his fingers would brush against the fabric of your shirt when passing by, letting you know he was there, letting you feel his presence, take in his scent, as he moved in your space.
You thought about the small smile he would give you during conversations both before and after the incident. The way his head would tip forward to show he was listening, the way his eyes twinkled with amusement at your storytelling, the curve of his lips as others laughed.
You thought of the times he had carried you to your room when you had fallen asleep on the couch, his comforting arms, his protective instinct as he locked your windows and pulled the covers over your chest and toes.
You thought of the heat that would rise to his cheeks when people would compliment him. The way the pink would dust his cheeks like a guide for your lipstick, his eyes averted and the subject quickly changed despite the passion he put into each and every one of his interests and talents.
You thought about his commitment and duty and strength. The way he held the weight of the entire court on his shoulders but still managed to make others laugh. The way he would suffer in silence, do the dirty work, but pretend like it was nothing to alleviate others' stress.
You thought about every bit of him, from the glow that surrounded his black hair against the backdrop of the sun to the way the grass curled around his feet, and you loved him with a fierceness that ached.
And you tried -- you tried so fucking hard -- to distract yourself from these thoughts in the days after you sent your letter.
You began training with Cassian again. He hadn't said anything despite how obvious your swollen and bloodshot eyes were, how your shoulders hung low with fatigue, the way your clothes were wrinkled against your thinning form.
He had given you kind eyes, though, and a soft smile that told you he was there should you need it. He often snuck bars of food into your training bag or left an "extra" tea out on the counter for you. You had even noticed him peeking his head into Azriel's room a few times at night to check on you, remaining quiet to not disturb your feigned sleep.
It wasn't until a week after Azriel had left that Cassian mentioned him again. You were strapping the weapons you had brought with you to training back in place when you felt his eyes on you. It was nearing eleven at night, and your entire body felt like it was going to fall to the floor underneath you. Your skin was slick with sweat, muscles burning, and your eyes felt (accurately) like your sleep had been fitful as of late.
Cassian was quiet until you finally met his eye and raised a brow, prompting him to break his silence. He nodded to the dagger strapped against your thigh. "I'm surprised Azriel has been letting you use that."
You looked at the dagger you had been using nightly when training, taking in its intimidating design and shrugging. "He didn't protest much. It's not Truthteller."
The dagger, in truth, had been helpful. Cassian not only helped you learn how to handle such a weapon better, but he did so in a safe space that allowed you to overcome any memories from that night surfacing. There were times when your movements and grip on the handle felt so similar to that cold moment in the alley, you would nearly throw the dagger from your hand in haste. But you were making progress, and those moments when blood tainted your vision were becoming few and far between.
Cassian continued moving throughout the space, putting equipment away and packing away his things. You could tell he was feigning being nonchalant from the way his hands fumbled and his eyes strayed away from your own.
"Truthteller isn't the only weapon Azriel has a special attachment to."
Your brows furrowed with confusion and curiosity. As much as you had come to care for Azriel, there were parts of his past he had always kept private. You knew some details regarding his history and what had made him into the male he was, but he rarely spoke to you about them.
He liked to portray the side of himself he could control, the side the victims of the Night Court did not get to see: his gentleness, his care for his family, his ability to bring joy to others. Never the past that haunts him or his actions that remind him of the evil in the world.
"Are you going to explain?" You decided on asking, mind already beginning to spin with thoughts of Azriel.
You were too tired for his vague comments, and really you just wanted to shower and curl back up in Azriel's bed. It was beginning to lose some of his scent and take on your own. You didn't know how low you would have to feel before you started digging through his closet and drawers for clothes of his wear and curl up in instead.
"Just-" he sighed, placing his towel in his bag. "That weapon holds a lot of weight to him. It's the one that was used against his brothers." His voice trailed off at the end with the secret.
His brothers. The males who had set fire to his hands. The males who had laughed as he screamed, who had treated him like a test subject, like less than an animal. The males who had enjoyed watching a young boy cry in pain, terror, fear, and confusion.
You swallowed back the horrid thoughts pushing their way into your mind. Flames licking up his scars, his hazel eyes drowning in tears. "He didn't tell me its history."
Cassian shrugged, turning to face you and crossing his arms over his chest. He was studying you. What for, you didn't know. "He just normally doesn't let that dagger out of his room. I've only ever seen it on him a few times."
Did Azriel give the weapon to you for the same reason he yielded it against his brothers? You remembered the placement of the dagger in your palms in his bedroom, the way the sharp edge faced his unguarded torso, as if he was standing at your mercy and vengeance, positioning his heart to be a target for your own pain.
Maybe he had seen your lashing out as inevitable, and he knew the very dagger he had used against his own brothers could also help you deal an angry blow in return. Did he know the dagger was going to be aimed at him eventually? Did he offer it, expecting that result?
You remembered the blood that fell from his bicep earlier this week.
"I noticed you've been sleeping in his room."
Cassian's voice was gentler this time as he interrupted your distracted thoughts, as if he was afraid his acknowledgement of what he had seen would spook you, cause you to shut down or leave. Instead, you just shifted your weight on your feet, trying to not look too embarrassed.
"Yeah. I don't know, it just seems to help. With the nightmares and stuff, I mean."
He continued to study you, and you felt yourself getting slightly uncomfortable and annoyed. He was obviously thinking something but was unwilling to say it, and you didn't exactly appreciate his quiet observations as if you were some sort of mystery or experiment to document hypotheses on.
"Just say it," you rolled your eyes.
"No."
"No?"
He gave you a half-smile, slinging his bag over his broad shoulder and taking a step toward the exit. "Some things aren't my place."
"Since when do you stay out of people's business, Cassian?" You scoffed.
"Since my brother-" He started, but suddenly his steps halted, body going rigid with tension. His eyes scanned the space rapidly, and within a moment his bag was dropped back onto the ground by his feet, and he was taking a step back toward you, eyes still tracking your dark surroundings.
Your breath hitched in your throat at his serious behavior. "Cassian, what is it?"
But he didn't respond. Instead, one of his hands reached for the knife on his belt, his other arm splaying out in front of you to get you to move back with him.
You followed his movements, stepping in tandem with him until you found yourself in the middle of the training ring once again. A breeze flowed up your arms and caressed the skin of your cheeks, causing shivers to run down your body and your hair to stand on edge.
Footsteps sounded from your right, and you whirled around in fear, gripping the dagger Azriel had given you with a tightness that hurt your knuckles. A shadowed figure was approaching, followed by four others. But you didn't have time to think of an approach before more footsteps sounded to your back and more appeared, their wings fading into the black sky behind them.
They were coming from all directions, all Illyrian males, all Illyrian warriors. Swords and shields glinted in the moonlight. Teeth sharp as they sneered.
"Cassian-" you whispered harshly.
"Gentlemen," Cassian interrupted, voice tight warning. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
There were about fifty of them, all nearly double your size. Illyrian males were already prone to being larger, all over six feet in height with intimidating wingspans and muscles, and for once you didn't feel safe around the form you so often associated with Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. Your fingers trembled.
Cassian still told taller than all of them, the general a fierce presence surrounded by enemies. He looked determined, but he did not look scared.
One of the males stepped forward from the crowd.
"My son was one of the many who died in the war with Hybern. One of the many who died because of you. Because of your half-breed high lord and his past-time of playing house with bastards." He looked to his companions standing in the shadows. "You all come here and condemn our way of life, of training, of breeding, and then punish us on the battlefield. We're not fighting for you anymore. We're fighting for ourselves."
You felt like you were in a fever dream. You hadn't even been in Velaris for that long, had never been around during the war nor seen the aftermath of the choices made. But you knew of Cassian and Azriel's power in the Illyrian war camps. You knew how Rhys tried to ban wing clipping, how they all enforced treating the females equally and fair, how the males were discriminatory toward others and often rageful and violent.
You wanted no part of this.
"No one is forcing you to fight on the front line." Cassian responded, barely flinching at the man's short speech. He was completely and utterly still, gauging each movement around the two of you. He was a strategist, and you could sense the gears in his mind turning.
"Maybe we want to fight. Maybe we are here to demand our rights back. Our superiority."
Cassian's hands twitched, his siphons gleaming. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
His cold voice was nothing like the jovial male you had come to know. This was the Lord of Bloodshed ready to split the males in front of him in half, a warrior basking in the calm before blood would rain down around him.
"And why not?" The male laughed. "It is only you here. You and this pet. When we are done with you, we will go for that bastard shadowsinger. How do you think almighty Rhysand will feel about that? Both of his brothers put down like mutts? Think he will be willing to listen then?"
Rage swarmed in your veins, warming your skin until you felt your cheeks and ears turn red with heat. They would not touch you. They would not touch Cassian, and they sure as hell would not touch Azriel.
Cassian sighed, as if he were experiencing only a slight inconvenience. As if he had just been interrupted from a nap with a chore he couldn't put off any longer.
"Alright," is all he said, and then his strong arm was pushing you back and out of harms way, the harsh sound of weapons clashing ringing in your ears.
You spun quickly, trying to take in the chaotic space around you. Males were moving in all directions, and before you could think, you were throwing your dagger at the closest body you could find. The edge hacked into the center of his pale forehead, his body crumpling to the ground immediately.
Dodging another male grasping at you, you slid on your knees to collect your weapon, gathering up the fallen male's sword at the same time. It was heavy in your grip, but it was better than only having one weapon to arm yourself with.
"Come here, birdy." A voice cooed.
You vaguely registered red light flashing in the corner of your eye, the color flickering and absorbing in the sky. It lit up the armor of the Illyrians, and despite the pounding heart in your chest, despite not knowing if you would survive tonight, you found the sight beautiful.
You faced the male, his rotten teeth dirtying his smirk as he took you in. A few others joined him, forming a line in front of you. Raising the sword in your grasp, you held your chin up.
"Don't call me that."
They took their time observing you, as if you were a mouse in their game -- a treat they had hoped would be present at their meeting.
"Bad timing, girl. We don't have to hurt ya, though. Why don't you just come with us, yeah?"
The male to his left winked at you, and you felt your palms become damp with sweat. No, you would not be doing this again. You would not allow another male to put his hands on you again.
"I'd rather the Cauldron boil me alive."
And then you were swinging, the sword coming down with a mighty clang against the male's own. The resistance reverberated up your arm, through your bones, and you gritted your teeth at the pain. But you pushed forward, attempting to unbalance him with your steady stance.
The male to his right went in with a knife of his own, and you ducked out of the way, instead swinging low with your sword and slicing the legs of the male you had been up against. He cried out in anger and pain, and you couldn't help the smile that creeped onto your face at the noise. You wanted him to choke on that pain, on those cries.
As he fell and gripped his calves, you quickly made work of his throat, slashing through the skin in a swift movement, barely even taking the time to think before you flung the dagger with your other hand into the male to your right, the tip latching into his neck.
The last male roared, pushing you off your balance until you tripped and had to steady yourself, your sword pointed toward the ground.
He swung with his own, point aimed toward your chest, and you hurried to block the action. You had no armor to defend yourself, just your brief training and your will to live.
The male kept swinging, his strength and weight being thrown into each movement, pushing you back farther and farther. Each block you threw up only dug your feet deeper into the ground, only destabilized you, only made your arms sting with fatigue.
You were panting, grunting, trying to hold your own.
And then the male was half exploding away from you. Red light and energy threw his body from yours, sending him spiraling to the ground feet away. His armor looked melted, and you could only allow yourself a brief moment of relief before you searched for Cassian.
He was still fighting the other males. Plenty of other males, as the majority went straight for their target rather than you. Red surrounded him, his sword sparkling, dark hair gracefully blowing with each jab. He didn't even look winded. There were twenty males surrounding him, and about the same amount scattered on the ground limp and bloodied.
His movements were clean and precise. As if he were made to do this, his body glided in a beautiful dance that left males to drop before him. If blood had not been coating your vision, it would almost seem as if they were dropping to their knees in reverence.
You shook yourself out of your stupor, hefting up the sword and your dagger and moving forward again into the action.
You were steps away from another Illyrian, his brown eyes locking on your own, when blue blinded your vision.
Like lightning rocking the ground underneath you, a beam of cobalt shot from the sky, sending the earth trembling under your feet. The noise roared in your ears as you tried to keep your footing, blinking away from the bright light.
Your veins hummed, your skin tingled.
Because coming out of that bright blue light, eyes glowing like a god, was Azriel.
His wings were flared, taking up as much space as three Illyrians as he marched toward them, his towering form enough to make you want to fall to your knees in worship.
Light shone on his face, cutting his sharp cheekbones with the blue of his siphons. He looked angelic, and beautiful, and like the savior you dreamed about.
Your chest pulled you toward him, but your movements were halted by cold tendrils snaking around your wrists, pulling you backward.
You almost shouted, but then you realized as a grunt sounded in your ear what was happening. Azriel's shadows were back. They were back by your side and they were helping you. You could have wept with joy feeling the silky bands kissing your skin.
They pulled you out of the way of one of the Illyrians, his punch missing your head as you dodged. You didn't even have time to plunge the dagger toward his eye before the shadows were swarming the male, flowing into his nostrils, ears, mouth and eyes, until blood was flowing out of them, jaw hanging open and body going limp.
You gasped in shock as the male fell to your feet, choking and suffocating on his own internal bodily matter.
Trying not to gag, you pulled your gaze up to Cassian and Azriel fighting back to back. Flashes of red and blue lit up the sky, and you went to move closer, but the shadows held you back. They swarmed your ankles, your calves, and held you in place. Some lingering shadows skimmed the rest of your body, searching the open skin for wounds.
When the last of the males fell, the shadows released you, and you stumbled at the sudden freedom.
Then you were rushing toward your friends, sword falling from your fingertips to lay with the dead bodies in your haste. Cassian and Azriel were talking, but Azriel's body was turned toward you as if he was paying attention to you both at once -- and you supposed he was, what with his shadows monitoring your every movement and breath.
But then he couldn't focus on Cassian, couldn't say anything else, because you wouldn't let him. You didn't care if he shoved you off of him, you didn't care if he took both of your shoulders in his scarred hands and threw you to the ground, not as you flung yourself into his torso, the wind knocked out of your lungs with the force.
He caught himself with one step back, his arms going to catch you against him despite his shock. His body was tense with surprise, but you didn't care, not as you grasped his leathers, not as you breathed in the smell of him, not as you basked in the fact that Azriel was back after you were scared he would never see or talk to you again.
Your breath was shaky as you listened to his heartbeat underneath your ear. His arms tightened around you, and you felt as seconds ticked by before gentle fingers tangled in your hair hesitantly.
Still, he did not say a word.
You would take this moment, savor it, knowing it could be your last chance at any kind of intimacy, at any kind of care and love with Azriel before everything came crashing down again, before reality and all you had both said and done disrupted what could have been.
You could hear Cassian’s footsteps fading in the distance, but the sound was muffled as you attempted to get closer to the shadowsinger, gripping him tighter, burying your face deeper into his hard strong chest.
He was so warm against you, and the contrast of that heat against the cool shadows weaving around you had you nearly gasping.
Tears were in your eyes before you could control your emotions, knowing how embarrassing this was. You had pushed him away for months, made him crawl for your forgiveness, but as soon as you were the one to make a mistake, you couldn’t handle it. You were just so glad he was home. So glad he was here in front of you so you could apologize, and feel whole again with him near. You hadn’t realized how empty you felt with him gone-
“Are you okay?” His rough voice cracked above you, barely audible above the wind.
You nodded against him, trying to compose your feelings before reluctantly releasing him and taking a step back. His fingers trailed after you as if by instinct, and you cleared your throat in an attempt to distract yourself from touching him once again.
“I’m okay,” you reiterated, hands tangling together in nerves. He looked you up and down, brows furrowed as if he didn’t quite believe you, as if he needed to give you a thorough inspection. “Are you?”
“Fine,” he quietly spoke. And you could tell that he was. He didn’t even look like he broke a sweat going up against the remaining Illyrians, which made your worry for him even more embarrassing.
“I didn’t…” you swallowed, sorting through your jumbled thoughts. “What are you doing back?”
His gaze was soft but guarded. Your heart thumped in your chest painfully at the contrast to how he looked at you just a week or two ago. You had hurt him enough for those walls to go back up, and you also couldn’t ignore the hurt you had felt (even if you were trying your hardest to forget it).
Instead of answering your question, Azriel said, “We should talk. After I check in with Rhys.”
“Right.” You nodded, rubbing your palms on your pants, the fabric clinging to your thighs. “That’s probably more important.”
Azriel just looked at you though before muttering, “Not more important.”
You hated the tension, the uncertainty, and if not for the adrenaline in your veins, you were sure you would have started crying again.
“I’ll come find you after.”
You nodded, and he gave you a short one in return, sending his shadows to stay with your form once again. They twirled around you, as if to make up for their master’s lack of visible excitement, and you tried to let them warm the anxiety overwhelming you.
And then he was winnowing you back to the House of Wind, only allowing the darkness to envelop him again once you were secure behind its wards.
-------------------------------------
You waited for Azriel all night.
The clock ticking on your wall seemed to mock you, and you wondered if he was already in his room hiding from you, or if he had decided to not return to you to talk after all.
You wouldn’t blame him for changing his mind, but the thought still caused your heart to twist in your chest. You had so much to say, so much to just let out into the open, that if he ended up not wanting to talk, you thought it would probably end up weighing you down to your grave.
Sighing, you wrapped a blanket around your bare shoulders to shield your nightgown-clad form from the cold, stepping out onto one of the balconies at the House of Wind. You couldn’t go lay in Azriel’s room, and you weren’t going to be able to rest in your own. So, you sat along the edge of the balcony, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping the blanket tight as could be around you.
Shadows rested on your shoulders and by your hips, silently keeping watch around you. Their presence was calming as you looked over the night sky.
You remembered sitting in this exact spot months before, smiling to yourself as you compared your life in the Hewn City to where you had come here in Velaris. So much had changed then, and even more now.
You missed the ease of being around your friends and around Azriel. And it frustrated you, because you knew you would be happier with him around again, but you didn’t know what was right to do. What was correct?
Your heart ached for him even more now than it did months ago, as if a tether was pulling you to him, begging you to become one as it was always meant to be. And you knew that feeling of completion in your soul would finally come when you two could move forward again, but you didn’t even know what that meant, if it was possible, if he’d want that-
“You’re going to catch your death out here.”
Your head whipped around so quickly at his voice, you were surprised he didn’t laugh.
“Azriel,” you breathed.
“Why don’t we go inside?” He nodded to your bundled up form. He made no move to help you stand, instead keeping his hands shoved into his pockets, body held tight with tension.
You stood in a hurry, clutching the blanket to your shivering form before making your way over to his tall frame and past the open door.
He followed you quietly as you sat down on one of the couches, shutting the door behind you two. He didn’t immediately take a seat, instead watching as you got comfortable (as comfortable as you could be with all of the anxiety coursing through you), before walking around one of the chairs and lowering himself down into it. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward, scarred hands clasped together and holding his attention.
He seemed much more unaffected than you. But you both had been affected by what had happened to you for months, and you understood he was probably exhausted, probably done putting energy into this situation, into you.
“I have so much I need to say.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice came out so insecure.
He only looked at you expectantly — not cold nor mean, but open and listening, his hazel eyes nonjudgemental.
“I want to tell you everything,” you started. “From before that night to what happened and how I was feeling after. But please, Azriel, please know I will never forgive myself for the words I spoke to you last week. I am so sorry. So so sorry. I meant none if it.”
Your voice shook with your tears, and you immediately wiped them away before they became too obvious to the spy.
He was silent, and you felt that thing in your chest crack further.
“You are the most honorable and lovable person I have ever known. Any words indicating otherwise were spoken from a place of hurt and anger and are completely untrue. You give your safety up daily to protect others, you have done nothing but try to make life better for those that you can. You have a good heart and a kind soul, and you are a way better person than the world deserves — than I deserve.”
Azriel shook his head at your words. “You deserved more than what happened to you. Than what I did.”
“I think we both made mistakes.”
His silence unnerved you, and you found yourself scrambling. “I understand if you don’t forgive me, if you don’t want to be around me anymore. I can find another place to live in Velaris… or I can go back to the Hewn City-”
“Hewn City?”
“This is your home— has always been your home. I’ve only been here recently. I can go wherever you need me to.”
“I want you to stay here.”
Your eyes met his hazel ones, and you could see a crack in the walls he had built up, the panic and emotion seeping through.
“I don’t know what I’d do if you left.” The words came out like a confession, like he hadn’t actually intended you hear them.
“I don’t want to leave you,” you admitted. “I hate this.”
“I do, too.”
Your fingers gripped the blanket tighter around you, pulling it until it held you with makeshift protection.
“I had never been more afraid than I was that night,” you told him, not able to quite make eye contact while talking about this. “But it was worse because it was you who forgot me, who didn’t think of me.”
He flinched at your words, and you hurried to explain.
“I’ve been in love with you for so long, Azriel. I put expectations onto you that you didn’t even know were there. It was unfair of me to put myself above Elain, to demand your protection and your thoughts as if I was entitled to them.”
“You are entitled to them,” he said forcefully, pulling your eyes up to his own.
You shook your head, giving him a sad smile. “I know you care about me. You’re a loving person. But that doesn’t mean I can punish you for not loving me as much as I wish.”
“Stop, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if he was in physical pain.
You waited for him to collect himself, to sort through his thoughts and emotions. His jaw was clenched, his fingers trembling, and you found comfort in the evidence that you weren’t the only one feeling nervous and uncertain.
“I never want to hear you excuse what I did that night again. Do you understand?”
He took a deep breath at your silence before continuing. “You are not someone to be forgotten, to be left behind. I will do everything in my power to convince you of that until I am dust to this planet.”
Your eyes watered with his words, but you let him keep going, getting the words off his chest.
“And you are entitled to my protection and thoughts. You are entitled to every part of me. You are my mate, and I will thank the Cauldron every day for blessing me with you even if you do not return the sentiment nor want to act on it any longer.”
Mate.
He was your mate.
Holy gods.
You thought of the pull you always felt toward the shadowsinger, the comfort you felt in his arms, the soothing scent of his sheets and clothes. You thought of the way he always seemed to know what you needed, how you were hyperaware of his presence and touch, the feeling of incompletion when he was away.
“Azriel…”
“I’m not sure where we go from here. I know that I will beg for you, on my hands and knees, daily for the rest of my life. I know that I will do what I can to help you through any trauma I caused, to earn your trust back. I know that I have fallen in love with you in the past few months, even before that without realizing. But I also know that I have done you wrong, and that I cannot change the past nor the hurt you endured.”
Your lips trembled, and you tried your hardest to keep looking into his hazel eyes, but you could feel it. The bond, the pain centered in both your chest and his own. The love and care he felt traveling into you, lighting that hallow space up and filling it until you felt him.
“Will you forgive me for the terrible things I said?” You asked, matching his own vulnerability. “Will you allow me to convince you of your worth and heart?”
Something sparked in your chest at the words, and his hopeful brown green eyes met your own.
“You’re already forgiven.”
You could barely hold in a sob at his words, and then he was slowly moving toward you. He let you see each of his actions, as if he expected you to shove him away, to have him give you space like you had the last two months.
But as soon as his hands brushed back the hair from your face, cupping your jaw, you were lunging toward him. Your arms encircled his neck, gripping tight tight tight, bringing him as close to your body as you could. His hand cradled the back of your head to his neck, his own nose nuzzling into the side of you.
You could feel his tears wetting your skin, and you knew he could feel your own cries against him, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to think about any more pain right now. Not about what happened months ago, not about what you said last week, not about Azriel’s week-long absence or the Illyrian revolt. All you could think about were his hands holding you.
“I love you,” you spoke into his neck. “I’ve always loved you.”
His fingers gripped you tighter, to the point of near bruising. And then he pulled back.
His lips brushed against your forehead, the soft gesture bringing more tears to your eyes.
“When I felt that fear go across the bond tonight, even through the walls I had put up, I thought I would be coming home to Cassian carrying you into this room bloody again. I thought I would be too late, again.”
But he had come for you. Even after everything you had thrown at him, he had been willing to put himself on the line for you and was still ready for your rejection.
You shook your head at him, your thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “I held my own pretty well actually.”
His eyes gleamed through the haunted look he had, a light of praise shining through, and then they were dropping to look at your lips.
Your skin warmed at the action, your mouth parting instinctually. His thumb brushed your bottom lip in admiration before his eyes moved back up to your own.
“We still have a lot to discuss.” His voice was quiet but rough, and you nearly clenched your thighs together at the sound.
He must have felt your body heat rising, the way you were tempted to squirm into his lap, to lean forward just a bit more, because his pupils dilated and his grip on you tightened ever so slightly.
“We have all the time now, right?” You asked hesitantly, his lips drawing you in as if you were in a trance. “And it’s late. It might be better to talk more once we get some rest.”
“Rest.” He repeated, his tongue testing out the word.
“I’ve been sleeping in your room,” you admitted, flushing with embarrassment. “Maybe we can both stay there tonight.”
“I’ll do anything you want.”
And you could hear the truth in the words, the desperation and vulnerability. If you told him to drop to his knees in front of you, he would do it. He would kiss the ground you walked on and look at you reverently while doing so.
So you led him to stand with you, dropping the blanket from your shoulders to fall back onto the couch, and grasped his hand with your own.
His eyes took in the light fabric hugging your body, and you watched them darken, his lashes fluttering and tongue wetting his lips.
“I want you,” you said.
The words were not necessarily ones of lust, but they were fueled in desire, in love and fire that had been suffocated for months. Letting them fall from your lips felt as cathartic as screaming.
“You have me,” Azriel said in return, his hand cupping your lower back and pulling you against him.
His body lined up with your own, but it wasn’t enough for you. You wanted to feel inside of him, you wanted to pull on that bond until it glowed a blinding gold across your vision. You wanted to feel his skin everywhere, curl your fingers into his hair, and tell him everything you had ever thought about him.
You have me too, you wanted to tell him. So take me.
And as his feet slowly started moving you both back toward his room, your heart skipped in your chest. His answering smile at the feeling had heat rising to your cheeks and an embarrassed giggle erupting.
Take me, you thought again. Make me yours.
He scooped you up into his arms and your mind emptied. No more pain, no more confusion, just you and Azriel and the thrum of love in your chest.
You have me. I’m yours.
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heeliopheelia · 10 months
Text
𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎
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part 2
genre: angst, established relationship
word count: 2.9k
warnings: curse words (and some of the boys are really cruel to yn :()
masterlist
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LEE HEESEUNG
"Please, can we talk about this tomorrow?" Heeseung groans as he slumps down on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands. He really doesn't want to get mad at you at such late hour but he can't help it when you keep talking his ear off from the moment that he's walked into your shared apartment. "I'm dead tired, just let it go for now, okay?"
"I'm not sleeping with you today," you scoff, not even daring a look at him so that he doesn't notice the tears of frustration that have started brimming in your eyes.
You've just found out from one of Heeseung's friends that he's been out with his ex for almost the entire day. Without telling you a word about it. Normally, you weren't the jealous type as you trust your boyfriend with your whole heart. But after hearing that he's been having the time of his life with the girl that once has broken his heart, while you were at home waiting for him to come back, your thoughts drifted onto a completely different track.
"Why? Fuck, so what if I saw her today?' He exclaims, slapping his thighs with a breathless laugh. "Nothing happened! She just wanted to talk, YN! Talk. Stop trying to turn it into something that it's not."
"Then why didn't you even bother telling me that you were meeting her?" You ask, involuntarily letting yourself get emotional and raising your voice as well. "Who even does shit like that?"
"I just didn't think it would matter so much to you, that's all. I thought you trusted me a little more!"
"So you're saying that if I were to hang out with my ex and didn't tell you anything about it, you'd be fine with it?" You snort when he nods his head. "Alright, yeah. Watch out cause I almost believed you."
"God, you're just like her! Why would I ever think of cheating on you with her when the two of you are exactly alike?" Heeseung ignores the hurt look on your face and keeps on talking nonsense, fueled up by anger. "Both have trust issues. Both are ridiculously jealous. Both are way too clingy for anybody to bear. Fucking twins!"
You laugh in disbelief as you stand up from the couch. "Why are we even in this relationship if I'm so fucking unlovable to you?"
"Good question," he quietly murmurs.
You don't bother to wait for his apology or pleads for you to stay as you know he's way too deep in his anger to even start acknowledging your feelings now. You don't even have the strength to slam the door, so you just quietly let them shut behind you as you walk out on the dark street.
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PARK JAY
You cross your arms over your chest, watching as your boyfriend finishes getting dressed for work. He said he would take the day off today but he obviously forgot to do so and now is leaving you hanging onto another empty promise.
"You're twisting my words! I just said you promised you would stay with me today, that's all."
"Well and I said I forgot! End of story," Jay grumbles at you, dismissing you with a wave of his hand. "Whatever, I don't have time for this right now."
"You never do!" You raise your voice involuntarily and turn your face away as you feel the tears gathering in your eyes. How could he forget? "Not even once have I ever been prioritized while being in this relationship with you! And it's not like you even have anything important to do today!"
"We're not having this conversation again," he laughs breathlessly, threading his fingers through his hair. "My boss called me and said he needs my help. Of course my job is gonna come first in a situation like that, YN! After all this time, I thought you'd be more understanding by now."
"Yeah, it's just there are days where I want to be put first for a change. It's not like I ask you for that every week!"
You can't help but let the tears drop down your cheeks, failing to hide your emotions for any longer. You're right, though. Jay knows it too. You never complained about his work or asked him to take the day off, unless the date was important to you. It's just too bad he was too much in his own head to think about it for a little longer.
"I can always take the day off next week!" Jay says with a roll of his eyes. "And, god, why do you always have to cry?"
"Because it's my fucking birthday, you asshole," you breathe out in a broken voice before standing up from the bed.
Jay's eyes almost double in their size as he lets your words repeat in his mind. Birthday. It's your birthday. He tries to grab your wrist as you walk past him but you jerk it away from him.
"YN, I-"
"I don't wanna talk to you right now."
You rush out of the bedroom. Slamming the bathroom door behind you, you slide to the ground and bury your head in your hands, finally letting out the sob that's been weighting on your throat throughout the entire morning. 
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SIM JAKE
As you walk out of the restaurant angrily, you dial Jake's number. It's the fourth time you've been stood up by him like that, sitting completely embarrassed and alone at the table reserved for two. Jake was supposed to meet you here forty minutes ago and while at first you waited patiently for him, knowing his schedule is rather tight, after half and hour of having your calls not answered, you started losing your cool.
"Hi, baby. What's up?" You hear his cheerful voice from the other side of the phone.
"Nothing much besides the fact that I've been stood up by my boyfriend once again this week," you reply in a rather passive aggressive manner as you open the door of your car. "How was your day, babe?"
Jake keeps silent for a second or two before a groan leaves his throat. "Fuck, it completely slipped out my mind. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you should be," you nearly growl, starting your car. You curse quietly when the engine stutters and chokes but doesn't want to start by the first two times. "I waited forty minutes for you, jackass."
"Shit, are you still there? Just wait a little more and I'll be there soon, I promise."
You scoff loudly. "You've got some nerve, I'll give you that, Jake."
You can hear him sigh heavily and you can just picture how he's pinching the bridge of his nose at the moment. "Can you stop that? I already apologized. I'm sorry that I have to work."
"Oh, you're very welcome." You grit your teeth, keeping your phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you drive out of the parking lot. "Would it really kill you to remember about me even once?"
"YN, you're not being fair right now," he says and you know he's pushing himself to his limits to not raise his voice at you. "Look, one of us has to actually make some money. I can't keep my head wrapped around everything."
"Oh, yeah? So you're at work right now?"
He stutters slightly. Got him. "Well, no I-"
"Jake, are you coming, man?"
Hearing Heeseung's voice shouting on the other line makes your fingers clench on the wheel tightly. You breathe in sharply and let out a short laugh. "Good to know what your priorities are, Jake."
"No, wait, I'm-"
You interrupt him again before ending the call, "Don't bother."
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PARK SUNGHOON
You breathe out in relief when you hear the familiar sound of Sunghoon's car pulling up on the driveway. He hasn't been answering any of your calls since the afternoon and you really started getting worried. You've been arguing with each other throughout the couple past weeks and you took notice of how distanced he's become towards you. You've attempted to fix that but it's a really hard task to do with your boyfriend being as stubborn as he is.
"Oh my god, I was so worried about you," you say the second when Sunghoon walks into your house. "Where have you been?"
He only nods his head at you in acknowledgement and toes his shoes off wordlessly. You frown slightly at his sudden muteness and put the sizzling pan aside.
"I made you dinner, figured you'd be hungry," you start again and only get disappointed when he dismisses you curtly.
"I'm not."
Pressing your lips together, you nod your head slightly before following him to the living room and taking a seat next to him, not close enough to irk him any further though. The two of you sit in silence, mindlessly watching the random channel that Sunghoon played. He has his arms folded on his chest and you wonder what went so wrong that he suddenly turned so cold towards you.
So you try again, speaking with a soft voice. "Why didn't you answer my calls today?"
You feel your whole body tensing when he lets out a groan. "Cause I didn't want you distracting me."
"Okay, what the hell is up with you, Hoon? Why the attitude?" You ask, turning away from the TV screen to look at your boyfriend's frowned up face.
You don't miss the roll of his eyes as he clicks his tongue. "For fuck's sake, if I knew you'd be this needy today, I would've stayed out longer."
You try not to show how much his words hurt you but the look on your face tells him a completely different story. You clear your throat and decide on voicing the thought that's made itself way too comfortable in your mind during the past few weeks. "Sometimes I just feel like you don't love me anymore."
"Well, maybe I would've loved you a little more if you stopped being so clingy. Seriously, fifteen calls, YN! Who the hell does that?"
Silence. His hurtful words linger in the air heavily and you both say nothing. You avoid his eyes, lips slightly trembling from the heartbreak. Sunghoon still says nothing as you stand up from the couch and leave the room in a rush.
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KIM SUNOO
"Do you even hear yourself? Why would she be lying?" Sunoo shouts at you as he crosses his arms defensively.
You're gripping the edge of your sleeve tightly, trying to prevent yourself from raising your voice as well. Even though you're keeping cool, his words and accusations stab your heart with dozens of needles. Having your boyfriend believing his friend rather than you has got to be one of the worst feelings in the world.
"And why would I be lying?" You ask, glaring him down. "Why would I, your girlfriend, lie about my whereabouts? For fun?"
He scoffs at you,. "Well, you didn't tell me you were hanging out with Sunghoon, did you?"
"No, because I wasn't hanging out with him, we just stumbled upon each other on my way back," you explain calmly as you clench your sleeve even tighter from frustration. "We literally talked for five minutes."
"That's not what what I've heard."
You roll your eyes at his stubbornness. "Yeah, cause what else would a person that's been in love with you for two years tell you?" You can't really help the sarcastic tone that's sneaked itself into your speech and you can see it only irks Sunoo more as he nearly scowls at you.
But all that you've said is the truth. Since the beginning of your relationship, you've noticed his best friend's spiteful looks thrown your way along with the heart-eyes directed at Sunoo. You've kept quiet for all this time, not saying a word even when he ditched you for her or made plans without your knowing. But this, this is just too much for you.
"You don't know what you're talking about," he has the audacity to laugh at you.
"No, Sunoo, it hurts me, you know?" You finally let all of your feelings that have been crumpled inside you for all these years. "Do you ever even try to acknowledge my feelings when you hang out with her?"
"Don't turn this on me right now. And I'm not allowed to have female friends now? What kind of a girlfriend even are you?"
You get up from his bed and scoff at him. "And what kind of a boyfriend accuses his girlfriend of cheating while he sneaks out without her knowledge to meet up with his best friend?"
With that, you turn on your heel and leave his apartment, slamming the door behind you.
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YANG JUNGWON
"That's not what friends do, YN! Are you even listening to me?"
"I am but you're being ridiculous!" You bite back at your boyfriend, walking back from a lunch with your best friend.
Throughout the entire meal she's been throwing jabs and snarly remarks at you, and although you've already grown used to her attitude, Jungwon just couldn't let that slide. He thinks it's illogical that someone you've been calling your friend for such a long time, would act so mean and nearly insulting towards you.
"I don't understand how can you let her speak to you that way," he breathes out in disbelief. "I wanted to spit in her face after an hour of talking to her, why do you let her do this to you all the time?"
"Because she's my best friend, Won!" You try to stay your ground as you dig into your purse, looking for your keys. "That's just how she is. I've learnt not to take any offence in that. You shouldn't either."
"I just care about you, so forgive me for not liking it when someone insults my girlfriend!"
You sigh, feeling tired from the night and the ongoing argument. "I know you do but I don't see it that way. She's just rough around the edges, that's all."
"Of course you don't see it. All you need is constant validation. You just can't live with the thought of somebody not liking you. You'd let a stranger walk all over you only if it meant you had gotten his approval. That's not fucking healthy, YN!"
"How can you even say that to me? Why would you-," you stop yourself from engaging in this conversation and slump your shoulders with resignation. "I don't wanna do this anymore."
Jungwon sends you a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"I just want to be alone right now," you say and Jungwon can clearly hear the exhaustion in your tone. "I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for walking me back."
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NISHIMURA RIKI
The moment that you hear the door slamming, you sigh as you realize it's one of these days again. For the past week or so, Niki has been coming home frustrated beyond words but not even once has he said what was bothering him. Sure, you've tried to intervene and ask him what's was it all about but he always dismissed you quickly. It hurts you to think that maybe he doesn't trust you enough to confide in you like that.
"Hi," you greet him as you stand up from the couch. You walk over to your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his neck in an attempt of hugging him but only get disappointed when you feel his body tense up. You pull away and look at him pointedly. "Another bad day?"
Niki hums and moves away from you, going into the direction of the kitchen. You follow him, feeling worried for him as you know he has the tendencies of bottling up his emotions inside.
"Wait! Don't ignore me again," you scolded him slightly, forcing yourself to stay calm and speak with the soft tone. You grab him by his forearm. "Niki?"
"Let go of me," he breathes out, voice heavy and your heart screams at the thought of him deciding to struggle with all of it by himself again.
You do as he asks and free his arm instantly. "Okay. Just talk to me, please?"
"There's nothing to talk about, Yn!" He snaps at you and runs his hand through his hair. "Stop pressing me!"
"No, you always keep acting like everything's fine when it's clearly not! I don't want you to keep it all to yourself. I want you to feel like you can talk to me about stuff like that," you explain, trying to keep him on your side. "I want to help you!"
"I don't need your help, though!" He scowls, sending you a sharp look. "If I knew you'd be sticking your nose into my business the second I walked through the door, I wouldn't even bother coming back."
"Hey, that's so cruel and uncalled for, Niki," you gasp slightly, feeling his words pulling at your heart again. "You're my boyfriend, of course I care about you! I hate seeing you like that but you just won't let me understand what's going on with you!"
"Are you my psychiatrist or my girlfriend? Jesus, I'm not in the mood for that right now," he sighs heavily and walks past you straight for the door.
"No, wait!" You call after him but you're too late and he's already slamming the door behind his back.
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permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19
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hispg · 3 months
Text
Longing for love
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Pairings: R2! Leon X Fem! Reader
Summary: It's your birthday, and your childhood friend wants to make it special.
Wc: 2.4k
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity (both sides), pet names, soft sex, making out, slight oral( f receiving).
An: I know I promised I'd post this last week, but this week I was feeling down about writing anything. Just as I haven't replied to asks or comments, I'll probably reply to them tonight.
I don't know what happened, I had so much to write and ended up writing almost nothing. Anyway, I'll try to finish what I've already got half-written and try to post it over the next few days!
I really hope this bad mood passes soon, and I thank you all for your love. 🫶🏻
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It was a special day, your birthday. You had nothing special planned, nothing other than lying in the comfort of your bed watching some series on your laptop.
Even though you had told your childhood friend, Leon, that you didn't want anything special today, he refused to accept it.
It was your birthday, how could he pass it up? Even though he didn't have the best financial conditions in the world, he spared no expense in giving you a shiny necklace with a heart as a pendant.
If it were up to him, he would give you anything you asked for. Because he thought you deserved all the best the world could offer.
And here he was, spoiling you with sweet, wet kisses, holding you down on the bed while he gave your forehead one last kiss before whispering:
"Are you sure you don't want anything?" You'd lost count of how many times he'd asked you that during the night.
You knew he could get you anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask.
"No, Lee..." You said softly, clutching and snuggling into him.
He nodded, tangling his fingers in your hair and playing with the strands, holding you so close to him that the two of you had your bodies pressed together.
The bed seemed so cozy for both of you, the covers that were wrapped around your bodies as the two of you exchanged these light caresses.
You couldn't have been happier on your birthday, cuddling up to him while the gentle rain fell outside.
Leon felt his heart flutter every time he saw you all dolled up in a light purple dress, looking like a princess. Wearing your prettiest earrings, glossy lips that had left a raspberry taste in his mouth that made him keep licking his lips because of it.
"You know... I saw a dress..." Leon begins, and you already know where this is going to end.
He always says he sees something that reminds him of you, and every time he ends up bringing it as a present for you, with the excuse that you'd look perfect wearing what he's bought.
"Leon, you don't have to..." You whisper, kissing him on the lips.
He closed his eyes with a soft smile, pressing you a little closer against him.
"But I'd love to..." He says with that cocky smile you already know well.
You giggle, kissing his cheeks several times. He always got frustrated and embarrassed when you did this, his cheeks getting hot from the act.
But he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it every time you showered him with kisses. The feel of your lips on his skin was something he would never forget.
Without even realizing it, he gripped your hips a little harder, getting goosebumps when your breasts grazed his chest from how close you were to him.
Once you'd finished what you'd started, the proud smile plastered across your face.
"Why are you blushing?" You asked with mischief and sweetness in your voice, biting your lip as you looked at him.
You watched his lips come together and press, a sketch of a pout there. His eyes locked with yours, his arms wrapped around your waist.
God, how could he resist that? How could he resist you?
He swears he was trying to ignore the situation, trying to ignore the way you were so close to him, your warm body crashing against his.
Maybe he was being daring, but he took the opportunity a step further, placing a light kiss on your neck. Letting his lips linger there for a few moments.
The response that came from you pleased him, he heard your breathing hitch, your chest descend and rise more visibly. He knew you liked it.
"Maybe I want something..." You whispered, looking at him with a certain shyness.
You knew that the two of you had already crossed the line into friendship, not least because you doubted that friends kissed or got that close. But when he looked at you in such a sweet way, something in you melted.
"Say... I can give you anything you want..." He whispers, lightly caressing your cheeks.
You bite your lip, leaning your forehead against his once more, and soon the sweet words are coming from your lips:
"A kiss?" It wasn't the first time you'd kissed, but the way you asked for it this time, so sweetly, the smile was kind of drawn on your face.
Who was Leon to say no?
"Whatever you want, princess." That's all he said before kissing you.
It started in a loving and gentle way, his lips moving against yours in sync, his fingers caressing your waist with affection and delicacy.
Your hands wrapped in his hair as his tongue traced your lower lip, asking for passage into your mouth. And you didn't deny it.
You don't know how it happened, or how a simple make out session turned into languid, sloppy kisses, his hands grabbing every bit of skin he could find, not wasting a single precious second to touch you.
And before you knew it, he was on top of you, his hands slowly coming down to hold your hips. And knowing how far this was going to go, you didn't try to do anything to stop it.
In the blink of an eye he had already taken off your dress, his lips trailing down your neck as he grasped the waistband of your panties, taking no time to remove them at once.
His eyes went wide once you were naked in front of him, his cock aching from the rush of seeing you like this.
"Can I...?" All he wanted was your permission to continue or to stop, it was up to you.
You nodded shyly, letting him do whatever he wanted.
And that was all he needed to continue. He moved his face down to your belly, kissing softly and sweetly across your skin, leaving no part untouched. He was so anxious that he could barely think straight, the only thing he wanted to feel was what it would be like to be inside you.
So he needed to prepare you, right? And once he saw how wet you were already getting with just a few kisses, it wasn't long before he thought of a solution to get you soaking wet.
His hands gripped your thighs, you could tell he was as nervous as you were. The blush on his cheeks, the way he was biting his lower lip to hold back the sounds he might make at the sight of you in this situation.
He'd never seen you naked like this, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined this situation multiple times.
But now that you were here in front of him, it was a completely different story.
Before you could look at him, you felt his warm lips on your thighs, giving you light, wet kisses.
As if he was afraid and apprehensive of making any moves, he had never done that in his life, he was just following what he thought was right, maybe he could call it instinct or something.
His warm, soft lips gave you goose bumps, made your body shudder under his body, you gasped and arched your body gently.
His every touch was capable of making your thoughts go blank and you forget the world around you, as if nothing else mattered. Just the two of you there.
He also couldn't stop salivating once he saw your wet folds, the state he'd managed to leave you in with just a few kisses and caresses. Your throbbing pussy almost begging for him, a sight that sent an electrifying pulse to his hard cock.
You held back from moaning when you felt his hot breath against your sex.
It wasn't long before you were shuddering at his touch, the way he was so delicate as he planted kisses in your folds, he was so tender that it was simply attractive to watch. His blue eyes staring at you, just to make sure you were comfortable with it all, and that you wanted it as much as he did.
As soon as he saw that you were ready for him, he began to undress. In a hurried and clumsy way he took off his clothes, throwing them into a corner of the room.
You were mesmerized by his body, strong and muscular, so defined that you could salivate just looking at it.
Once again he was lying on top of you, his lips pressed to yours in a hot kiss.
You only heard him fisting himself a little, before he began to guide his tip into your entrance. You knew from the kiss he was giving you that he wanted to make you focus only on him, making you as comfortable as possible.
So he slowly entered you, calmly and patiently, all the while asking you if it was okay and if he could continue. The situation was new and strange for both of you, so reluctance was more than normal.
Once he had sunk into you, he could have sworn to God that he was holding back from cumming, the sensation of your warm, wet walls was more than enough to finish him off.
But he held on, held on and tried his best to stop the thoughts of simply exploding inside you here and now.
And he hovered over you, simply rigid on top of you, just as his hard cock didn't move an inch from where it was.
He felt your discomfort, the way you hissed a little when he put it in, and if you were being honest, it stung considerably.
He stood still, that is until you both got used to the foreign feeling.
But even then, he kept giving you soft kisses on the cheek, whispering sweet nothings to help you relax.
"I love you so much..." He whispered sweetly in your ear, giving the area light kisses and licks.
You moaned softly at his touch, instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips, entwining with him in such an erotic and intimate way.
And in yet another of his gestures, he entwined his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly as he gazed at you with those gentle blue eyes.
It was a gaze so tender, so loving, a gaze that was reserved for you, only you.
"You can move..." You say softly, looking at him shyly.
He gets the message, and slowly starts to move, in a shallow and calm way, he had no intention of rushing things.
Not least because he could see how nervous you were, or how much your pussy clenched around him, even though he had stimulated you, had prepared you to loosen up more.
"So tight..." He moans softly, giving your lips a gentle kiss.
The way he was so tender, so tenuous as he thrust into you, he didn't even move much, just enough to cause a little friction.
Not least because he didn't even know what you liked at those times, it was two inexperienced lovers learning at once.
"Lee..." You call softly, gently biting your lower lip as you look at him.
Surely he noticed the way your hips began to move against his, as if your body knew exactly what to do in this situation.
He took this as a green light, and began to pick up the pace, still making a point of giving you kisses and caresses all over your body.
You felt your mind getting so heavy, his cock reaching places so deep, points so sensitive that you couldn't even imagine.
It was all so good, certainly better than you imagined.
In one swift movement he removed one of his hands from yours, moving down your belly until he reached your crotch, where he stopped respectfully. Not wanting to do anything without your permission.
"Is it okay if I....?" He asked, placing his index finger next to your clit.
He wanted to know what you liked, what felt good, and he was going to start here. With your bundle of nerves.
"Y-yes... Please." You asked in a sly voice, and he could even see the pout that formed on your lips.
He smiled against your neck, giving the area a hickey, leaving a small mark. And then there was his thumb, smoothing over your clit, making small, delicate circles on the sensitive flesh, making you roll your eyes and moan louder with each movement.
He eased off when he felt you loosening up more, and with that he understood that he could increase the speed of his hips, and so he did.
Now the dirty, wet sounds echoed through the room, his heavy balls slapping against you and making that characteristic skin-on-skin noise.
But neither of you cared, so lost in that moment that the least of your problems was the profanity that came out of your mouths in the form of words.
Your heavy breaths came together as one, in the purest of synchronies. He was close, and so were you.
But as far as he was involved, your pleasure came first, so he would hold back as long as he could so that you would come first.
"Leon... I think I'm going to cum." You say in a low moan, feeling a new sensation forming in the pit of your stomach.
Your walls squeezing so tightly around him, and him trying his best to hold back. With a strangled groan you felt your hot fluid pouring out of you, your body arching and crashing against his as you came.
It was enough to send him over the edge too, and he almost didn't take his cock out of you, he was so lost in your expression of ecstasy that he forgot he wasn't wearing a condom.
He even thought about cumming in your belly, but was genuinely apprehensive of making a mistake and making a mess. So he pulled out of you, fisting himself and cumming on the sheets. Moaning and grunting as his cum spurted onto the silk sheets.
You were both tired from the recent orgasm, and he took the opportunity to lie on top of you and hold you close.
"On your belly next time?" He asks softly, a shy, mischievous smile appearing on his lips.
You smile, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks with your hands, hugging him as he relaxes on top of you.
"Yes, next time." You whisper, closing your eyes and storing the moment in your memory.
You couldn't have hoped for anyone better to lose your virginity to, and for sure, Leon couldn't have had anyone better either.
You can believe it was your best birthday.
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