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missmaywemeetagain · 10 months

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Sweet Symphony 🎻❤️‍🔥🎹, a '68 Special Era One-Shot

A/N: This one has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for quite a while. Sweet Symphony started as a special request for '68 Special era Elvis from my Get to Know Me Gala way back in March! I also included the prompt, "Do it again, please." Nothing like a good two-fer!

A professional violinist Reader gets a little more than she bargains for after rehearsal for Elvis Presley's '68 Special...

Mature 18+ || Word count: 9.2k

TW: Sexxx in various forms, fluff, cussing, dubious use of a piano

For my most patient baby, @savedrebelcreation 💗

(If you want to get stories like this early, come join my Patreon!)

Sweet Symphony

A ’68 Special Era Request

You’re early. Too early, in fact, but your mother always said, “If you’re on time, you’re late,” so it goes to reason that for such an important job, you find yourself clicking your heels into the rehearsal room a full hour before it’s set to start.

The only reason they allowed you in this early is that your brother-in-law, Billy, is the one in charge of this portion of the production rehearsal, arranging the music for Elvis Presley’s television special due out in December. He had been tasked, rather last minute, to take over the musical arrangements. When your sister called on Billy’s behalf, saying he desperately needed a professional violinist to fill in for the one who’d been suddenly struck with a bout of appendicitis, you were a little confused at first. Why in the world would Elvis Presley need a violinist? had been the first thought in your head, but a job is a job, and you figure a television special of this magnitude wouldn’t hurt your classical resume.

Sure, why not? you’d thought, then packed up your violin and got a ticket for the next plane out to LA. If nothing else, I’ll get some sun.

Since your plane arrived late, you made the executive decision to go straight to the studio rather than chance the traffic by checking into your hotel first. Which is how you find yourself in the near-dark rehearsal space before anyone else has even thought to arrive, violin and suitcase in tow. At least you’ll get a chance to look over the score Billy just handed you before anyone else arrives, you think, finding a chair and settling in to unpack and prepare your instrument.

So focused are you that you don’t really register the door opening and then latching closed. You figure it is just Billy, who had been frantically going over sheet music up in the booth. When the piano begins to play, softly, you nearly jump out of your skin with surprise, having been so lost in sight reading and humming your part that you were oblivious to the presence of another in the room.

“Oh my god!” you gasp in surprise, managing to knock the loose pages of the score off the music stand as your hand flies up to your chest. “Damnit,” you mutter under your breath, scurrying to pick up the pages and put them back in order.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” you hear a gentle voice drawl out from the darkness.

“Oh, no, I just wasn’t expecting anyone in here so early and I was so caught up in…” you taper off, furrowing your brow and trying to get your sheet music situated.

“Here, lemme help you with that,” the voice says, kneeling to pick up loose pages.

“Oh, thank…” your voice hitches when you look down at the man holding up more music that had fluttered away across the floor.

It’s the sparkling sapphire blue eyes that catch you first, framed in criminally long, dark lashes, blinking up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to your chair. They are utterly mesmerizing in the way they search your face apologetically. Your voice dies in your suddenly dry throat, and so mesmerized are you with those eyes that it takes you much too long to take in the rest of him.

That’s when you realize that the man with the pretty eyes on his knees near your feet is the one and only Elvis Presley.

“…you. Thank you,” you manage to finish, gingerly taking the pages from his grasp.

Elvis smiles up at you so bashfully, so charmingly, that it takes your breath away.

It doesn’t hit you until this very moment that you are playing for the Elvis Presley. Between everything happening so quickly and you assuming you wouldn’t get to meet the man himself, you just hadn’t considered the magnitude of the job.

You’d just hit your teenage years when Elvis came into his stardom, the timing perfect for swooning over the Southern boy with the rebellious good looks and the completely unique sound. But your parents had been strict and conservative, opting for your upbringing to be filled with learning and playing classical music, so the only chance you’d had to listen to Elvis was when you went to your girlfriend’s house. There you could swoon over him unimpeded, but it was more vicarious than anything else. And by the time you were old enough to properly swoon to your heart’s content, you were so busy with your music degree that it hadn’t really crossed your mind to ogle over Elvis.

To be quite honest, you had become a bit of a music snob at that point, so Elvis wasn’t really on your radar, though you had been impressed by his reworked English version of O Solo Mio. His It’s Now or Never had been a massive hit, and he had amazed you with his vocal talent, which you were convinced was wasted on silly pop songs. Needless to say, Elvis and his music had been off your radar for a long, long time.

You certainly hadn’t realized the man had only gotten more attractive as time went on. Magazine pictures and even his movies (which you hadn’t cared to watch since the beginning of the decade) don’t do him justice, which is saying something since you’d never once seen the man look anything less than handsome. But those damn eyes pop against his tanned skin and raven hair, and that curved-lip smile has butterflies flying in your stomach like a schoolgirl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks quietly, still kneeling at your feet.

“My name? Oh, um, my name is y/n,” you stammer out. You could kick yourself for how gobsmacked you sound, a grown professional woman nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of an attractive man. But the thing is he isn’t just attractive—he’s ethereal.

“Well, hello there, y/n. I’m Elvis,” he says, as if he were just some regular Joe and not one of the most famous men alive. “What do you play?” He motions to your music.

“Uh, violin. Well, and piano, but violin professionally,” you reply, unable to take your eyes off him.

His eyes light up at this. “I play piano, too,” he says, with such a little boy quality that you can’t help but smile.

“Oh?” This surprises you quite a bit since he is so synonymous with the birth of rock and roll and you’d only ever seen him with an acoustic guitar.

“Yeah, a lotta people don’t know that, but between you and me, I like playin’ piano more,” he says, with a wink. Elvis stands up from his crouch with little effort, so lithely that you equate it to a dancer. Your eyes follow up, up, up his lean frame, and you try not to notice just how well his tailored outfit fits him.

He walks back towards the piano he came from, and you blush when you catch yourself staring at his backside, like some sort of lecherous creep. Quickly turning your attention back to the pages of music in your lap, you force yourself to try and make sense of page numbers, shuffling them back into order.

“Do you know this one?” Elvis suddenly asks, shocking you by playing the opening notes of a well-known Beethoven piece.

“Yeah, I mean, yes. I do,” you respond, still stumbling over your words. “That’s Moonlight Sonata.”

“What happens after this part?” he asks, playing the beginning again. The question seems quite honest, still having that curious, young quality about it. Before you think better of it, you’re walking over to the piano.

“May I?” you say, standing near the bench. Music is your language. You’ve always been better with an instrument at your fingertips than with your words. It makes you feel bolder, so when Elvis only scoots over instead of yielding the bench, it doesn’t stop you from perching next to him.

It only takes a second for the movement to come back to you and you place your hands on the keys, letting them speak for you. You’ve done your share of teaching, so it doesn’t take but a moment to fall into that role. You just try not to think too hard on that fact that it’s Elvis Presley that you’re teaching.

He’s nodding along, eyes focused solely on your hands. So close to him, you can feel the way the music affects his body. It’s something you can relate to.

You stop yourself from speeding too far ahead in the music and pull your hands away from the keys. “Is that…do you want me to go again, or do you want to try it?” you ask.

“Do it again. Please?” he asks watching your hands with incredible focus.

You do, trying to keep it simple and without too much flourish.

“Okay, so it’s like this then?” he says after you finish, and as his long, slender fingers glide across the keys, you realize they are musician’s fingers. They may be dripping with jewels that are likely more expensive than your apartment, but they are quite perfect for the kind of instruments he plays. It strikes you he was made to do this.

You recognize then that Elvis is truly a musician and not just a performer. The way he concentrates, learning and adapting quickly as you show him more of the song, only by ear and sight, amazes you.

It's through the music that you begin to calm. Talking one musician to another is much more manageable than considering the magnitude of the person you’re speaking with. Frankly, you are completely amazed by how incredibly gentle and disarming the man is.

When the door opens again, both of you are consumed enough in the music that it doesn’t faze you much.

“Oh, hey Elvis! Just the man I needed to see. I hope y/n isn’t bothering you,” Billy says, in a teasing tone only a family member could produce.

“Hello to you, too, Billy,” you say, a bit annoyed at the interruption and at feeling put in your place as if you were still a child.

“Oh, no, not at all. She’s a great teacher,” Elvis grins, bumping your shoulder. “You two…know each other?” he then asks, his smile faltering in the slightest as he looks from you to Billy. The question is innocent enough, but the way he says it gives you pause and your heart flips.

“Since she was practically in diapers. She’s my sister-in-law,” Billy says.

“Twelve isn’t in diapers, Billy,” you scoff at him, then turn to Elvis. “He’s married to my older sister yet has never hesitated to treat me like a baby. Lucky me.”

“Aw, you know I only put up with you because you’re too talented for your own good,” Billy ribs, making to muss your hair.

You duck swiftly out of the way, bumping into Elvis in the process. “Oh, sorry!” you breath out.

Elvis just chuckles at the two of you, looking pleased as punch, though you’re not exactly sure why.

“I think what you meant to say is, ‘Thank you for dropping everything to fly across the country last minute to help me, dearest sister-in-law,’” you throw at Billy, batting your lashes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of it. Now, skedaddle. I need to talk to Elvis,” Billy shoos you.

You suppress the urge to stomp your foot and pout, but you realize you really should act more professional than you are. Settling for a huff at Billy, you turn to Elvis. “It was nice to meet you,” you say, all the spunkiness you had towards Billy deflating into shyness the moment you look into those dark blue eyes again.

“Oh, I have no doubt we’ll be talkin’ again soon, honey, and thank you for the lesson,” Elvis drawls softly.

His words send a cascade of shivers through your limbs. You feel heady as you stand from the bench, shooting a familial glare Billy’s way, noticing the frown on his face as you do so. God, even with you being 27, Billy had the ability to make you feel like a scolded younger sister.

You force yourself not to look back as you head to your chair. Be a professional. Just because Elvis is handsome doesn’t mean he’s not the man you’re ultimately working for. Busying yourself with rearranging your music, you hear Billy usher Elvis out and up into the booth.

Well, that’s that, you think, rosining your bow, and you get to practicing.

You’ve been at your share of long rehearsals, but you will admit this one is both long and intense. The music Billy has arranged—this “Guitar Man” medley of some of Elvis’ songs—isn’t difficult music to play, per say, but you can now sense an underlying importance around this entire operation. Part of it is the barely held back frantic look in Billy’s eyes, and knowing him as you do, for him to be this frazzled means there’s a lot on the line. However, it’s when Elvis comes back, much later, to run through the medley with the orchestra, that you realize you can sense it in him, too. It’s well-hidden, to be sure, when the man introduces himself and shakes hands with the members of the orchestra, and you probably wouldn’t even have noticed if it weren’t for the relaxed way he’d been with you earlier in the day, but it’s an undercurrent all the same. Then, they send him into the booth to do his thing.

And, boy, does he. You’ve worked your share of Broadway musicals and operas, but you’ve never seen a man completely give himself over to the work in just a rehearsal quite the way Elvis does with this medley. It’s like he’s singing for his life. By the time it’s all through, Elvis exits the booth, dripping with sweat, exhausted but exuberant. His eyes sparkle and his body hums, some part of him tapping or jiggling or wiggling every moment, as though the music had become electricity in his veins.

You try not to stare as you slowly put away your bow, your violin, collecting your music from the black stand. You try not to, but you keep stealing glances because not only does he look enticing, but it’s also more that you connect with the feelings he seems to be having. The way the music can just take over and become something else inside you, as if you are the conduit to something much bigger than yourself. This you understand. And you’d never imagined a sensation like Elvis Presley would feel the music that way, too. Perhaps this is the secret to his massive success.

Almost all the other musicians have packed and left by now. You tell yourself you’re stalling so you can say goodnight to Billy before hailing a cab and finally checking into your hotel by midnight. You are exhausted, after a day of traveling and frenetic rehearsal, yet you are buzzing with the excitement only music seems to bring you. And you can’t help that the part of you that feels that way is being drawn towards Elvis like a magnet.

When Elvis catches your less-than-sly stare, a million-dollar smile spreads over his face and your heart flip-flops in your chest so hard it takes your breath away. Caught, you quickly and conspicuously look up and away, as though that will save the burning embarrassment on your cheeks. Suddenly, all you can think of is how fast you can get out of here, and you finish packing up like a fire has been lit under you. You scurry towards the door, hoping to escape before making a fool of yourself further.

“Hey, Miss Moonlight,” Elvis says, fingers light on your arm, stopping you before you reach the door, “whaddya say you join us back at my place for a little get together?”

The nickname would usually make you roll your eyes, but coming from him so sweetly, you balk under the attention. It distracts you so much that it takes a full second to realize that he’s just invited you to his place.

“I…uh, it’s been a long day. I-I haven’t even checked into my hotel yet,” you stammer, the excuse so unconvincing you might laugh if you weren’t so befuddled and nervous that Elvis is asking you…well, you’re not exactly sure what he’s asking you.

He quirks a perfect raven brow at you. When he steps in closer, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“Well, I can have Joe swing you by your hotel before headin’ over, if you’d like, though there’s plenty of space at the house. We can set up a room for ya…s’probably more comfortable than a hotel,” Elvis drawls quietly in your ear.

You’ve never heard a man make a pass so naturally in your life, so much so that you almost hesitate to believe it is one. His low voice and the open suggestiveness spear straight into your core, threatening to melt you into a puddle on the spot.

In any other circumstance, you would laugh in a man’s face for suggesting such a thing. Generally shy, reserved, and cerebral, you’re certainly not the kind of woman who just spends the night at a strange man’s place. But this isn’t any other circumstance. This is Elvis Presley asking you to stay the night with him.

And maybe he does just mean it casually—a “hey, come party with us and you can sleep on the couch”—but at the moment, your body doesn’t know the difference. Your inner pragmatist begins listing off all the ways this is a terrible idea, but the only thing that cuts through the noise is the regret you know you’ll feel if you don’t accept this invitation.

“Um…well, okay. I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, of course,” you manage to breathe back.

His lip curves up into an almost bashful smile. “Oh, Moonlight, you couldn’t be an imposition if you tried. Plus, you hafta show me how to play the rest of that piece,” he says, running a calloused fingertip down your pointer finger.

You can’t help the shudder that runs through you or the way your heart catches in your throat. “Well, how could I possibly refuse?” you finally get out.

“Fantastic! Hey, Joe, this is my new friend, y/n,” he says enthusiastically, calling over the shorter man. “She’s gonna be joining us tonight.”

Joe seems kind enough, albeit barely looks or speaks to you after the main introductions. Before you know it, you, your violin, and your suitcase are packed into the back of what you assume is a ridiculously expensive vehicle. Elvis slides in behind you, and you, now sandwiched between him and the car door, think you ought to feel apprehensive about the situation, but all your attention is fixed on how Elvis’ side is pressed up against yours. The heat radiates off him, bleeding into you, his leg bouncing so quickly that you think he might need to get out and run laps. He makes conversation, asking about how you came to be a musician and you uncharacteristically and nervously start rambling about yourself. You’ve got to give him credit for the way he nods and hums, truly seeming to listen to you even though your mouth is running almost uncontrollably.

By the time you arrive at the house, you feel as if you’ve told Elvis your life story and you abruptly shutter your mouth closed. God, I am such an idiot. Way to play it cool, y/n, you berate yourself.

Elvis kindly helps you out of the car, walking you toward the house as Joe follows with your violin and suitcase in tow. The way your heart pounds against your ribcage threatens to do you in—it’s all suddenly become very real that Elvis Presley is leading you into his house where you are going to surreptitiously spend the night. His hand is guiding you so gently at the small of your back, but the heat of it blazes through you.

Oh, get a grip! The man has probably touched thousands of women, you’re no different. You’re not special.

Realizing you’re holding your breath, you force yourself to take in air as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t gotta be nervous, baby,” he says, a cheeky little smile gracing those luscious lips of his.

“Sorry, I…this just isn’t where I thought I’d be at the end of this very long day,” you chuckle.

“Well, let’s make you at home then.” His smile turns reassuring and warm.

He spends the next hour getting you comfortable and fed, having the most amazing ability to relax your normally nervous nature without hardly trying. You can’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the way he seems to be continuously touching you—the press of his leg, an arm around your shoulders, the graze of a finger against yours—in a familiar way, even though you’ve known him less than a day. If it were anyone else, you would have leapt off the couch and run for the hills.

What surprises you the most is that you aren’t uncomfortable at all. Excited and nervous, yes. But you don’t feel preyed upon or anything of the sort. Frankly, you are trying not to get ahead of yourself about what the rest of the night might bring.

An impromptu jam session with his old bandmates has you feeling even more surreal. If someone had told you yesterday that you would get a private concert with Elvis Presley and his former band, you would have laughed at them. You find yourself unable to take your eyes off him and how he seems to get completely lost in the music, and you right along with him. His gritty baritone combined with the sensual way he tackles each song has warmth pooling in your belly. Despite the cranked-up air conditioning, you find yourself sweating and parched, especially in the moments he smiles in your direction.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, only that you feel the heady exhaustion of being up too long coupled with an uncharacteristic hungry adrenaline running through your veins. When the jam session ends, you are both disappointed and exhilarated for what might come next.

Don’t get your hopes up, you remind yourself. This night has been amazing no matter what happens next.

“Did you enjoy that, Moonlight?” he leans over and whispers in your ear. It tickles you and sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod. “Oh, yes.” It comes out more breathless than you’d like.

You feel him smile against your cheek. “Are you up for teaching me more of that sonata, honey?” he asks. It’s an innocent enough request but you can’t tell exactly what his motivations are, though for the first time in your life, you’re not sure it matters.

“Of course,” you say quietly, starting for the piano in the corner of the living space.

His warm hand catches yours, and you look back, surprised, as he shakes his head and pulls you in the opposite direction.

Your heart threatens to beat out of your ribcage as he leads you down the hall and into what you assume is his private suite. It’s not until he closes the door and you realize that you are utterly alone with him that you feel a glimmer of trepidation.

It must read on your face because he jumps in to reassure you. “Oh, honey, I just want to get to know you better, away from the rest of them. I’d never hurt you or make you do anything you didn’t want to do. Honestly, I don’t want the other guys ribbing me…they don’t go for the classical stuff,” he says quietly, looking away, and you think there might be a little pink rising on his cheeks.

His sincerity is palpable, and you certainly never expected him to be bashful about playing classical music. There’s a softness to him now, almost a shyness, that wasn’t present moments ago around all his entourage. It is like a yearning for one-on-one connection, and this part of him melts all your reservations and tugs at your heartstrings.

“Well, I do…go for the classical stuff, I mean,” you say quietly. You smile and squeeze his hand reassuringly as his deep blue eyes find yours again.

He looks giddy as he leads you to the second piano in the house, a baby grand in the far corner of the large suite. You sit down, opening the lid, and he slides in beside you. The heat of him rolls around you, the smell of his cologne and a day’s worth of sweat combining into an alluring combination that perks up your senses.

“Show me what you remember,” you say, and he starts to play, long, nimble fingers gliding gracefully over the keys. It amazes you that he committed everything you showed him earlier to memory so fast and so accurately. Something about it tightens a coil low in your belly. Unsure whether it’s your attraction to him physically or musically that has you so aroused, you swallow hard as he finishes abruptly.

You shake it off as best you can as you show him more of the movement, hoping the music might quell the buzzing in your veins. You go through it a few times, getting a little lost in the notes, as you tend to do. It only serves to stoke the fire in you when he picks up what you’ve shown him so quickly.

He finishes a phrase, and you move to show him the next, but his hand suddenly covers yours. Surprised, you look over at him to find his oceanic eyes searching your face so intimately that warmth blooms across your chest and your breath catches in the silence.

Slowly, Elvis leans over, cups your cheek gently, and kisses you. It’s almost chaste the way his incredibly soft lips press into yours and your surprise is so great that by the time you register what is happening, he is already pulling away.

His eyes open slowly, those lashes fluttering along with the fluttering in your heart and belly. Shock has you outwardly frozen but it’s as if he lit every one of your nerve endings on fire with the touch of his lips.

He must register your surprise as hesitance because his gaze changes to something akin to apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I shouldn’t’ve—”

Before he can get the rest of that sentence out, your body miraculously obeys you and you unfreeze. Boldly cupping his jaw with both hands, you pull him back to you and plant your lips on his.

It surprises both of you, and it’s a second before either of you relaxes into the kiss. This permission is all it takes, however, and then his mouth is languidly searching yours and his arms are wrapping around you to pull you close. Soft, short kisses alternate with longer more passionate ones, and you feel utterly spellbound by him, every inch of your body aware and alert to his.

Never in your life have you been kissed so well or so thoroughly. It’s as if the music in his soul must find a physical outlet, and the way he explores and opens you up to him is like him playing a new instrument. When his tongue rolls softly against your lower lip, you can’t suppress the low moan that comes out of you, causing you to open your mouth. He accepts the invitation readily, expertly, and the wet plushness of his tongue slowly begins exploring.

The warmth that sparkles and blooms across your chest travels lower still, sparking fires as it goes, until you feel your pulse throbbing between your legs. It’s nearly unbearable the way he stokes you without hardly trying. You’ve never felt so aroused so quickly or so completely.

Your eagerness is impossible to contain, your fingers buried in that luxuriously soft hair at the base of his neck, your body rolling towards his of its own accord, as if magnetized. You follow his rhythm, meeting his music with your own.

When he pulls back to trail kisses down your jaw, you are left breathless and clutching the lapels of his half-unbuttoned shirt. The nuzzle of his nose on your cheek as he finds and licks the tender spot behind your ear leaves you gasping. Pleased, he does it again and your entire body shudders.

Every inch of you yearns to be consumed by him. It’s never felt like this, not with any man you’ve been with. Those were fumbling amateurs playing one handed melodies in comparison to the symphony Elvis is invoking. While he is leading and in control, you sense as much eagerness from him as there is in you. It’s reassuring and flattering all at once.

There is an embarrassing amount of slick between your legs already, soaking the cotton of your panties and leaving you clenching your thighs together in search of friction. He must notice this as he kisses down your throat and across your décolletage because then he’s looking up at you for permission with those pink, swollen lips and dreamy bedroom eyes.

It’s unspoken, but you nod and he continues his sweet journey, one hand deftly unzipping the back of your dress while his lips follow gravity as it slips down your arms and reveals your chest. Pushing the fabric off and to your waist, his hand is then hot against your bare stomach. He hums in approval when his mouth finds the swell of your breasts that spill from your simple, beige bra.

A low whine escapes you. His apt response is to thumb your nipple to attention through the thin satin before lapping at the bud with his tongue. The result is a jolt of electricity shooting straight into your core, sending you clutching his neck and writhing against him. Expertly, he undoes the clasp in the back and abandons your bra to the floor in what must be a well-practiced motion based on the speed of it.

Goosebumps rise across your now fully exposed flesh, both from the cool air in the room and the way his fingers brush so lightly over your breasts. He seems pleased with the way your nipples stand at attention under his heated gaze. You don’t have the wherewithal to feel your usual self-consciousness; instead, the sight of his pupils blown black with arousal has you shivering with nothing but anticipation.

The combination of the way his tongue darts between his lips as he lightly pinches the hardened buds has you begging for more. “Please,” you moan and that’s all it takes before he’s lathing his tongue over and around the sensitive nubs, palming the fullness of your breasts. You can hardly stand it, how everything he does makes your body sing and want to scream his praises.

A quizzical look crosses your features though when he stops his ministrations and slides to his knees on the carpet on his side of the bench. For a second you are worried something you’ve done something to hurt or displease him, but when he beckons you towards him at the end of the bench with such arousal in his eyes it nearly knocks you over, you obey without a thought.

Elvis scoots you forward and kisses your belly, sending a new wave of tingles over you. He removes one of your low-heeled pumps and then the other, ghosting kisses along your ankles before running his large hands up the smoothness of your pantyhose, pushing your dress up with them. As if under a spell, you can’t help the way your legs fall open for him when his thumbs drag up the insides of your thighs. The little coy smirk that graces that beautiful face when he feels the damp that has soaked through to the gusset of your hose has your cheeks flushing and your lips parting.

You can’t bring yourself to be too embarrassed at how wet you are because the pleased look on his face at the discovery makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. He pulls on the waistband, forcing you to lift your hips, before gently rolling the hose down your legs until they are off and discarded on the floor.

What you don’t expect is how he begins peppering soft kisses up your now bare calves, at the inside of your knees, and then up your inner thighs.

A swell of panic hits the farther up he goes, and you jerk up, unsure of what exactly he’s meaning to do. The men you’d been with in the past had been rather direct about the whole thing—once the clothes were off, they buried their pecker inside you and thrust above you, all with varying levels of success in getting you off as they did so.

But not a single one had kissed up your thighs and spread them open with a hungry and expectant look like the one Elvis had now.

Looking down at him, confused, you ask, “What are you doing?” in a voice that is a little too apprehensive for your liking, but you need to know.

He cocks his head at you a moment, as if trying to determine your level of seriousness. Then his eyes shine with understanding and in that low, Southern drawl of his says the downright naughtiest thing you’ve ever had a man say to you: “You ain’t never had a man take good care of your kitty before, have ya? Give her all the love and attention she deserves?” He runs a fingertip lightly over the wet cotton at your center and you shiver.

He can’t possibly mean what you think he means.

You must be gaping because he rises on his knees and catches your lips with his own before breathing, “Close that pretty mouth baby or you’re liable to catch flies up in there.”

You are speechless, unable to form words, but the question is written all over your face.

He leans back on his knees with a contemplative smile. “That sweet little kitty of yours ain’t never been eaten, has she, baby?”

Oh my god.

It’s all you can do to bite back a moan and shake your head at him.

He looks positively gleeful about this development, his shining eyes taking on a whole new level of arousal. Then he seems to notice your trepidation and reigns himself in.

“That okay with you, baby?” he asks.

You had never even considered it an option before, or that a man might like to do such a thing. Maybe he’s teasing you? Suddenly you feel very conscious of the mechanics of the act and breathlessly mumble, “You don’t…you’re sure?”

“Oh, I am.” The smile of anticipation on his face seems to echo the sentiment.

The enticing thought of that beautiful mouth of his being down there on you outweighs your uncertainty and prudishness. You nod your head. “O-Okay.”

You’ve never seen a man look so thrilled at the thought of being between your legs as Elvis Presley is. “Don’tcha worry, I’m gonna take real good care of ya,” he says comfortingly. “You just lie back and relax and let me make you feel good, honey.” Then he places a kiss just under the waistband of your panties and you let out a little sigh.

The piano bench feels slightly warm on you bare back as you lay down. Elvis, grabbing under your thighs, pulls you to the edge, and your heart resumes its pounding. You truly can’t believe any of this is about to happen and steel yourself for him to rip off your underwear and go to town.

But he doesn’t.

No, he takes his time warming you up, as if he’s trying to get you used to the idea. He kisses down one hip then trails down the panty line. You tense the closer he gets to your core but then he only ghosts a breath over it before jumping to the other leg and kisses up the crease on that side. The ticklish sensation is almost too much to bear as he works his way up to the waistband again.

You are panting by the time his mouth is grazing from your belly button downwards, pressing into the soft curls beneath the fabric. He stops just short of that forbidden little spot where your aching clit resides, and you push up on your elbows to shoot him a look.

A grin spreads over his features, his eyes narrowed like a crocodile’s and full of desire and he watches you intently as he finally places a light kiss over that sensitive little button.

The sensation is nothing like anything you’ve felt before and the whole scene has your body flaming white hot. You don’t recognize the low mewl that erupts from your lips and the only thing keeping you from throwing your head back is the way his eyes are locked on yours, as if feeding off your reaction. Then he uses his perfect nose to nuzzle into it before placing a firmer kiss there.

“Elvissss,” you whine, unable to keep from throwing your head back this time.

“You like that, baby? I barely even started,” he speaks, his hot breath puffing over the slicked core of your panties. He kisses down, down until over your entrance, where he then tongues the fabric, pressing it up and into you.

“Honey, you’ve done soaked right through,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s speaking to you or directly to your pussy. You’re not sure you care for the way you moan, the way your body shudders and writhes, suddenly starving for anything he’s willing to give.

“Lemme see how pretty she is,” he says, and God, if his filthy yet somehow sweet words aren’t stroking you in such a way that you wonder if you could come from his lilting voice alone. He pulls your underwear to the side, finally baring yourself to him, and he whistles.

“Just lovely, and all weepy for me, too,” he says, voice thick with lust now.

The anticipation has your heart racing and your fingers clawing at the wooden bench with a whimper.

“Okay, baby, I hear ya,” he murmurs kindly, then hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and finally slides them down and off your legs. Then his hands are pushing them apart and his tongue is lightly skimming up your folds.

You gasp at the soft and silky feeling, unready even despite his preparations. When he circles your clit and then kisses it, bare this time, you are so aroused you’re afraid you might weep. But the teasing is done, and he tests you expertly. His tongue flattens and takes in the full breadth of you, licking a stripe up your pussy that sends your hips rolling.

He seems to gauge every reaction carefully, giving equal and alternating attention to every piece of you. Nipping, suckling, and kissing your swollen clit into submission and just when you think that heated coil in your belly might snap you in two, he moves down and kisses through your folds. When he laps at the arousal dripping from your tight little hole, tongues it, and then plunges it inside of you, you find yourself screaming out his name.

You can feel him smile and hum at your response, the vibrations adding entirely new sensations to the slew of new sensations you are feeling. He thumbs at your clit as he laps at your hole, and you think you might hyperventilate with how fast you’re breathing and how hot you feel.

So completely attuned to you, he pulls back and gives you a break, despite your whimpering protests. His full lips are swollen pink and slick down to his chin with you, and when his lip curls up into a knowing but almost bashful smile, you think this might be the eighth wonder of the world.

“You alright? I’m doin’ okay?” he asks, his left eyebrow quirking.

You giggle, almost drunkenly even though you’re entirely sober, because the question is so absurd but sweet of him. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say, words slurring.

“Okay, good,” he says, nodding. Then he rises on up on his knees and commands you forward with a come-hither motion so deft and quick, it has you drooling.

You are powerless to resist and push your dazed self to your elbows on the bench. He meets you halfway, kissing you deeply, lewdly letting you taste the tang of yourself on his lips. Distracted as you are by his wandering mouth, you aren’t ready for the way he slides two of those perfectly long musician’s fingers up through your silky folds and deep into your wet heat.

A shocked gasp quickly turns into a moan that he swallows with another kiss. He begins ever-so-slowly pumping those fingers into you and the rough pad of his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves at the hood of your sex.

“Goddamn, you’re so perfect, so tight,” he breathes into your mouth.

You can’t stop the shiver that ripples through you. “I-It’s been a-awhile,” you pant. You can’t help but look down and watch the way he works you.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I gotchu,” he purrs, then curves his fingers just so and the pleasure that courses through you has you crying out.

Your brain is fuzzy, with only one thing on its mind. Luckily, Elvis seems to be reading it because he smiles that coy smile and returns those full lips of his to your clit.

For a moment you think you might die from the intensity of the sensations he’s procuring from you. Seems an awful lot like God gave him long fingers and a full mouth not only for music, you think. Though the way he’s playing you right now and the noises he’s coaxing out of you makes it seem like a whole different type of song he’s expert at.

The way he traces and flicks and suckles your clit, coupled with the obscene sounds coming from the way he’s fingering your pussy has you writhing on the bench and gripping his beautiful hair in your hands.

More, more, more, is the only thought left.

He hums against you with one last kiss and a wildly accurate thrust and curve of his fingers. The coil inside you explodes, then white-hot, full-body shudders violently overtake you as you silently scream and hold onto him for dear life as to not fly away into the stratosphere.

Your orgasm is utterly mind altering and earth shattering.

“Good job, lil’ girl,” Elvis coos, soothing you through the aftershocks with a lathing tongue.

You can’t think straight enough to respond, only whimpering from the empty feeling when he removes his fingers, then gasping again when he laps at the arousal pouring out of your core.

It’s all too much, and, overstimulated, you whine and clench and pull at him.

He sits up again, between your legs, looking mighty pleased with himself. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he says, pulling you up by your arms and sliding you onto his lap. Boneless and naked (save for the dress bunched in a ring around your waist), your legs fall open, easily straddling his hips. Your hands grip at his shirt and you bury your head into his neck, still dizzy with release.

He holds you steady. “Didja like that? Your kitty all happy and purrin’ now?” he whispers in your ear, sending a new set of shivers down your spine. All you can manage is a pleased hum and a nod. You kiss his neck, tasting salt on his tanned skin.

A soft moan escapes his lips at that. Suddenly, you become quite aware of the hardness in his slacks, pressing up near your swollen folds. The embers of your arousal have not died, and you kiss his neck again while slowly rolling your hips into his.

Groaning, he tightens his arms around you, holding you to him. You nip at the throbbing pulse point on his neck and are reminded just how talented and famous these hips of his are when he rolls them back into you in response. He’s rock hard, straining against his zipper, the tip of him bumping against your sensitive clit. You moan and find his rhythm, feeling the wetness between your thighs start to soak through the fabric of his slacks, creating a delicious friction.

Elvis pants heavily in your ear, murmuring curses and praises as he grinds into you. At this rate, you think he might come in his pants, which just won’t do. Not with the way your pussy is buzzing, and that coil is tightening again in your belly. No, you need him inside you. You need him to fill you.

You use what little returning strength you have and rise on your knees, away from his needy cock. The man actually pouts, his lower lip jutting out with a desperate little whine and it is so alluring you almost forget what you’re trying to do. You place a finger over his lips to quiet him, then set to the task of trying to undo his lavish belt and zipper.

Once he understands, he races to help, making much quicker work of the whole thing and finally his cock springs free. It’s quite long, and the deep pink tip peeking out of his silky foreskin is already shiny and weeping with precum. Of its own accord, your finger slides over his slit, circling the slick tip and spreading the wetness gathered there. He hisses. You bring your finger to your mouth, tasting the salty musk of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, his hand palming his length. He gives it a pointed tug, then another, his lips falling open as he watches you.

He’s gorgeous in every way and it’s almost intimidating the way he looks at you with such open and vulnerable lust. You can’t bring yourself hold back or tease any longer, needing desperately to give him all of you, to give him what he needs. Hovering over him, you help line him up, then slowly descend onto his cock.

You are plenty wet—he’s seen to that—but even still, the stretch of him burns. It’s been too long since a man has been inside you like this and he is much longer than you anticipated.

A quiet, “Oh, oh, oh,” is all you manage to puff out as you bob slightly up and down, taking a little bit more of him with each tiny pump. He presses gentle kisses everywhere he can reach and murmurs encouraging praises with each inch that you conquer.

By the time you settle on the hilt of him, snug in his lap, you’re both groaning. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders because you are so full of him you don’t know what to do. You’ve never been so gorged and the pressure is a little frightening.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he slurs happily, letting you adjust around him. “Little Elvis likes you lots and lots, baby. S’like you were made just for him.”

“Little Elvis? H-He’s not so little,” you say with wide eyes, then giggle a little, which causes you to gasp from the tightness below and how it makes you clench even harder around him.

He groans. “If ya keep doing that, he’s not gonna last very long, darlin’.”

You try to move, but in this position and after that orgasm, you feel weak and a little like he’s spearing you in two. You’re almost too full, and the angle is not quite right. You wiggle in his lap, your brow furrowed, as your arms grow tighter around his neck. A low whine escapes your throat.

He notices your distress. Petting your hair, he babytalks at you, which under other circumstances might be strange for a grown man, but it comes so naturally to him somehow it both comforts and arouses you, “Oh, shh, shh, baby, s’okay. He’s a widdle much for ya, ain’t he? Sometimes he gets too ‘cited and gets ahead of ‘imself. But he’s gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

And with that, he gingerly shifts sideways, leans forward, and lays you down on the plush carpet under the piano. The movement has him sliding partially out of you, giving you some relief from the bursting sensation, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Your body relaxes.

He looks so gorgeous above you, with his raven hair falling in his eyes and a soft, bashful smile gracing his lips. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“That better?” he asks.

You nod.

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose, then places soft kisses on your mouth. He coaxes you back to him, the heat building between you with each deepening kiss. So focused on the rolling of his tongue against yours, you don’t even realize he’s pressing deeper into you until he’s nestled almost completely, but much more comfortably between your legs.

You sigh contentedly into his mouth. The pressure still has you feeling full, but in a delicious, silky way this time as you finally relax around him. He rolls his hips smoothly, the strokes slow and deliberate, in time with the movement of his lips. Each stroke is better than the last as your increased arousal combined with his own slickens your inner walls.

“There she is,” he moans quietly into the crook of your neck.

That feeling is back, a chant of want, want, want running through your brain as the tension and fire in your belly begin to grow once more. When he bottoms out this time, your punctuated, “Ah!” is from pleasure and not discomfort. He’s managing to hit places inside you that you didn’t know existed.

You writhe under him, starting to meet his thrusts with your own, trying as you might to find that perfect spot he keeps slipping past. If only you had the right leverage…

It comes to you once you’ve hitched your legs up around his svelte waist. You lift your hips and plant your bare feet against the grainy wooden underside of the piano, meeting his next thrust with your leveraged one. It sends him deeper, driving into that little spot just perfectly. You keen.

“Oh, goddamn,” he moans along with you.

Each thrust seems deeper than the last with your legs pressing up like this. They shake from the exertion, but it’s worth every ounce of effort for the way you feel driven into the earth by his cock. Sweat drips off his face and onto yours as he showers your body with pleasure you didn’t know existed.

He thumbs your clit, timed perfectly with the piston of his hips, and you can barely breathe at the sensation. Gasping, your entire body shudders of its own accord as you hurtle towards another release.

“I…I…I…” is all you can seem to manage as your second climax starts to crest, and he grunts with effort above you, his eyes glassy with unbridled desire.

He mutters a string sweet filth that only fuels you forward, slurring and panting, “Oh, fuck, yes…such a good yittle kitty…good girl for me…look atchu taking ‘im so deep…never been s’deep…Jesus, I can see ‘im in your belly.”

You both look at the swell of your abdomen on the next thrust and this time he holds you flush against him so you can see the tip of Little Elvis bulge out the slightest bit. The moan you let out is obscene. Holding you at the waist, he doesn’t let your hips down, instead running the palm of his hand over the protrusion while he flicks your clit furiously. Then he presses down at the same time he thrusts as hard and as deep as possible.

Your climax hits so hard and so fast that it knocks the breath out of you, leaving you gasping his name, “Elvis, Elvis, Elvis!” Flaming white stars flash behind your eyelids as you flutter and clench around his length. Molten fire spreads from your core outward. You shudder and claw at him, at the bottom of the piano, at anything that will keep you tethered to reality while the rest of you shatters into a million pieces beneath him.

“Good girl, s’good fo’me,” he praises you through it, losing himself to you as you come apart.

You feel his hips start to stutter into you again because a primal need has him beyond the point of waiting any longer. Somehow, through shivering aftershocks, you have the wherewithal to force your eyes open, even as the rest of your body goes slack. He looks like Adonis in the throes of passion, his full and swollen lips falling open. In one fell swoop, he drops your hips and pulls his considerable length from you, his knowing hand pumping his slick-covered cock with expert precision.

Watching him come is a marvel and you make yourself commit this moment to memory, knowing it will fuel your arousal for years to come. He tenses above you, those sapphire eyes fluttering closed. Shivering tension ripples over him with a choked cry and through gritted teeth. Thick and warm white ropes erupt and splatter over your torso and you moan along with him. Then his eyes pop open pointedly as he watches himself cover you with his seed. The poignant, dramatic end of a brilliant symphony.

“F-fuck,” he pants, finishing off with another shiver. Exhausted, he catches himself just before crushing you with his weight, instead pressing his sweaty brow into yours. Your hot, heavy breaths mingle as you both try to come back down to Earth. He nuzzles his nose into yours before kissing your cheeks and your mouth.

Eventually, you find your words. “That was…incredible,” you say breathlessly, with no exaggeration.

He pulls back to look at you, with a goofy, pleased grin. “I told you I’d take care of you, Moonlight. And boy oh boy, was that a neat trick with the piano there…that part of your classical trainin’?” he says, blowing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Putting that college degree to good use,” you say with a giggle.

His eyes go wide and then he laughs—a musical, beautiful, contagious sound—which fills your heart up in a way you don’t quite understand.

He crawls back and helps you out from under the piano. Your back is rubbed raw from the carpet, which he kisses gently with apology, but you barely feel the sting. You are too dazed and relaxed to worry about much of anything.

When he helps clean you up and pulls you into his big bed, slotting you in next to him, you want to savor every minute. How he smells delicious and masculine, how the heat of his long body envelops your own—you want to remember everything.

Exhausted, you fall fast asleep, sated and cared for, knowing that you’ll never, ever be the same.

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clinically-not-straight · 2 years

Text

Ok so I looked for Lord of the Rings to see if there were any major non-white chracters. There are not, it seems. However, I did find this one video that poses as being super fucking woke whilst actually just being incredibly racist and I thought you'd all like to see it.

youtube

Now, you might notice that it says all the words spoken by a person of colour in the movie. That tells me they mean the characters and not the actors. Now, in terms of race in Lord of the Rings, they're right, race in Lord of the Rings is moreso surrounding the differences between humans, orcs, hobbits etc; unfortunately this video's premise is built on real-world ethics so I'm gonna have to rule it by that, also they said "person of colour", again forwarding that same idea.

So the video that's like "wow, only less than a minute of non-white characters speaking? That's so racist." Actually said "The Orcs are clearly POC." If you can't tell, that's really fucking racist.

---------------------------------------------------

To circle back, I will say it's not exactly great that, in the movies, there aren't any notable non-white characters. Frankly it does feel very strange to me that there are literally none (Shagrat doesn't count because he's not human, already covered) however it is worth noting that I'm not as into LotR as many others are, I haven't even read the books. For all I know there could be some that got cut from the movies that were in the books. In the movies they could have swapped the races of people and I'd have been none the wiser. The best way to see it, JRR Tolkien does have accounts of racism and his work will probably reflect that to some degree, authorial intent is important after all, however have you thought for a minute that how you see it as a viewer probably says more?

#interestingly enough there's stronger evidence supporting that the orcs aren't black people #there was a letter written by Tolkien to someone else about how they were 'flat-nosed' and stuff like 'the Mongols'#so if you're gonna say the orcs are racist then make sure you know who they're a representation of #i know i said poc in the post but way too many people say orcs are based on black people so yeah #like. specifically black people. nobody else. realistically just saying africans rather than black would've made more sense for Tolkien #just consider when he was alive. he's bot going to talk about the black people living in harmony round him cos he won't have had that #he'll have said 'yep. them there africans lemme tell ya. I'll tell ya. tell ya what"#im clearly rambling here but fuck it there was a lot to explain that didnt fit the post #just to be clear in case its not already obvious. i think jrr tolkien was racist. theres concrete evidence. thats it.#still like the movies though and i dont see the orcs as black or mongol #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr orcs #orcs #tolkien #jrr tolkien #racism #Youtube

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keikikait · 2 days

Text

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader (both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3.3k

summary: steve recently got a new camera for his birthday, and can only think about one thing he wants to film

warnings: SMUT 18+!, a lil fluffy, being filmed, i wasn't alive in the 80's so i might get stuff wrong, slight dom!steve, slight sub!reader, oral (f receiving - steve's a munch argue with the wall), this is literally just steve being a munch. not proofread

a note: my first ever fic for stranger things!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

“No, lemme see - I wanna see it!”

You pry the camera out of Steve’s hands, clutching it. You admire the camera, a Sony CCDTRV118 Hi8 Camcorder, careful not to smear any fingerprints across the lens. You giggle as he grumbles, trying to grab the camera back. “Your parents really shelled out this year, Stevie.”

Steve snatches the camera out of your hands, ignoring your protest, and puts the lens cap back on. “It was the only thing I asked for. It came with a deck to record tapes, too. They’ve been holding it over my head all week.”

Your eyes widen, knowing how expensive those can get. You’ve never had one yourself, just seeing them on the shelves of Sears before finally seeing one today up close and personal. “Damn. You're going to have a hell of a time repaying them.”

Steve shrugs. “Eh. I'll just record my baby cousin's christening next week and they'll drop it.”

You move to sit down on his bed, cross-legged, playing with the frills on the hem of your white socks. The window was open, a necessity for the hot summer you were caught in the midst of. The first cool breeze of the evening swept into Steve's room, carrying with it the scent of hot air and the oak trees planted around the Harrington property. The curtains, a soft blue muslin, floated gently in the breeze. “Did you only invite me over to show me your new camera?”

Steve grins, setting the camera down on his desk. “That...and I wanted to ask you something.”

You tilt your head in confusion, a soft smile on your face as you admire him. Freshly showered, hair still slightly damp, in a loose-fitting dark blue t-shirt and a black pair of jeans, no doubt from Eddie’s influence. “Yeah?”

Steve moves towards you and pushes on your shoulders, laying you down on your back. He crawls on top of you, pressing his hips into yours. “Yeah. I was thinking...how would you feel if we filmed a movie together? Hmm?” He brushes some hair out of your face.

You bite your lip, sliding your hands under his t-shirt, brushing your hands over his back. His skin is so warm and so soft, and you feel yourself melting. “What kinda movie?”

“Oh, the good kind.” He whispers before kissing you, his lips pressing firmly against yours as his tongue slides into your mouth, exploring and making you shiver. His hands find their way to your hips, pulling you up against him.

You giggle, kissing him back. You get momentarily lost in the way he tastes and the feel of his lips before you pull away to speak, “Are you asking me to make a porno?”

“A home movie,” Steve corrects, a sly grin on his face. “Totally not the same thing, baby. It’s not a porno if it’ll only be seen by us.”

You giggle, moving one of your hands to his hair, running your fingers through it. “You wanna make me a pornstar?”

“You wouldn't be the star of the movie; I would be.” He pauses mid-kiss to grin at you. “Think of it more like…” He pauses again, searching for words. “Like, a...a feature film starring me and...and a really hot co-star.”

“And what’s in it for me?” You ask, playing along.

“I can think of a few things.” He grins. “A starring role in someone's wildest fantasy, for one. A spot in a home movie that'll be around forever for the people who make it...it could be a classic.”

“Hmm, right, right.” You say, kissing him on the lips again.

“Think of the bragging rights!” He laughs quietly against your lips. “It could be your claim to fame. Your legacy.”

“Ah, yes, my legacy,” You say. “The girl that got railed by Steve Harrington as he taped the whole thing.”

He leans back, pretending to be offended. “You know, now that you put it like that it doesn't sound so romantic.”

“Oh, it’s supposed to be romantic?” You chuckle.

“Are you telling me you don't think I'm a romantic guy?” His grin widens. “That's kind of hurtful. I thought I was being smooth.”

“Smooth like crunchy peanut butter.”

Steve groans in mock pain, pulling you to his chest as he rolls onto his side. You laugh, and he finds it adorable, holding you close as he sticks his tongue out and pretends to die from your insult.

After a few seconds, he looks at you. “I’m serious, ya know. I wanna make a lil movie with you. I wouldn’t share it anywhere, it would just be for us to watch.”

You smile softly, looking over at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really do.” He moves some of your hair aside, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment. “It'll be...our own little thing. Something to keep to ourselves.”

You bite your lip. “Then let’s do it.”

"There's the enthusiasm I was looking for." He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to kiss your neck. His teeth rake against the skin, biting and sucking at the sensitive area as he moves his hands up your shirt. He moves his face up to kiss you, his kisses turn from slow and sweet to almost desperate, as if he was afraid he wouldn’t get another kiss again. His hand grips at your waist, and you shiver under his touch. "You are so beautiful. You know that, right? God, I'm so damn lucky."

You giggle, pulling his shirt over his head. “You’re one to talk.”

Steve chuckles, lifting his back so you can pull the shirt off and toss it on the floor next to the bed. "I get that a lot." His hands move to your lower back, toying with the hem of your shirt as he presses you to him. He kisses at your jaw, a mischievous smile on his face as his fingers dance along your skin, sliding up your back. He pauses speaking again, "You know what, let's keep it even." In one quick motion, he slides your shirt off your body, tossing it somewhere in his room. He stares at your bare chest for a moment, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Much better.”

He greedily slides his hands over your tits as you squirm, slowly getting more and more desperate. A thin veil of sweat covers your body, your least favourite thing about the summertime, but he doesn’t mind. Steve bites back a moan as he roughly squeezes your tits, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Your back arches deliciously and he grins, squeezing your nipples hard.

Steve's hands start wandering all along your body. They're warm against your bare skin, and his touch feels almost electric whenever he moves to touch something new. His fingers brush along your hip, tracing the waistband of your shorts while his breaths become heavier. He whispers your name, almost in a plea as he looks down at you, like the sight of you is the most beautiful thing in the world. "God, you drive me crazy, you know that?"

You blush. “Theres no need to butter me up, Steve. I’m already in your bed topless.”

He laughs breathlessly. "Can't help it. Every time I look at you I just wanna...worship you." His fingers hook under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down slowly. "You drive me goddamn crazy. I don't deserve someone as beautiful as you."

Your heart flutters. “You deserve the world, Stevie.”

It's his turn to blush now, a bright red blush spreading across his cheeks as he looks away. "God, you really don't know what you're doing to me, do you?" His thumb brushes over your hip bone, the cool metal of the ring on his right thumb contrasting with the heat of his skin. You and Steve have matching rings, yours sitting neatly on your left middle finger. "You're gonna be the death of me, baby.”

You grin mischievously. “Not doin’ anything.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head as he continues his work in removing your skirt. "Sure you aren't, brat." There's a fondness to his voice as he speaks, and you smile in return. Steve leans down to kiss your cheek before moving to your neck, then your chest, then your stomach. He plants soft kisses in every spot he can reach, admiring your body all the while. He reaches your lower stomach, kissing just above the hem of your underwear. His hands find your hips, and he glances up at you. "You're perfect.”

He slides his fingers under your underwear when you remember. “Wait, we’re supposed to be filming.” Your voice is breathy, clouded and suffocated by lust and desire.

His hands stop for a moment, eyes widening slightly as he realizes too late. "Right." Slowly, he pulls his head up, sitting to look at you. "Where did I put that…oh, for crying out loud - “ He leans across you to grab the camera off his desk, a light laugh in his voice like he can't believe he forgot. He attaches the camera to the deck, putting in a blank VHS tape. The red light on the camera blinks and Steve turns on the deck to capture the playback. ”I guess we're doing a re-take.”

The red light suddenly makes it all feel real. You shift on the bed as he props it up, shooting directly in between your legs. You feel yourself getting hot and your mouth dries. “Make sure to get my good side.”

A smile forms on his face as he adjusts the camera. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get plenty of good angles. But that’s not for me to say, that’s for us to get all sorts of opinions on…” He takes a glance at your half naked body, pausing. “Damn.”

You suddenly feel shy, shifting on the bed. “What?”

“You’re literally perfect, and all mine,” he says, his words thick against the sound of the deck whirring. He starts unbuttoning his jeans, shimmying out of them before he lays back down on top of you. “This is all mine to worship, hm?” His thumb hooks into the thin hem of your underwear, tugging it down.

You nod, your legs opening even wider as he pulls your underwear off. Thank god you trimmed yourself up this morning. “All yours.”

"God, you're amazing." He gently squeezes your hip, smiling as he presses hot kisses onto your stomach, and gradually lower and lower. "Absolutely perfect. You're killing me, baby." The camera is recording it all, but Steve doesn't care about that. He gently pushes your legs apart to settle in between them, and he lets out a quiet groan at the sight.

You let out a soft whine, almost bucking your hips in his face. “Steve…”

"I know, baby," he purrs, his arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you still. "We'll get to it. Just let me appreciate this." You feel his breath against your skin, warm and sending an electricity through your body. He rubs his thumb over your entrance, gathering some of your wetness before spreading it all over, rubbing your clit in soft circles. Slowly, he presses a kiss against your sensitive heat, and he groans softly, his breath coming in quiet gasps through his nose.

You shiver, your hips bucking, another soft whine tumbling from your mouth.

You feel him smile against you, one of his hands sliding up your thigh, and he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. He chuckles, "Someone's getting impatient, hmm?"

You can only imagine the footage the camera is capturing.

He puts your legs on his shoulders, spreading your pussy out with his fingers. "Stay still for me," he coos, his breaths coming out heavy against your skin, "there we go..." He runs his tongue up your slit, relishing the whine that comes from you as your thighs try to squeeze around him. He holds you down gently but firmly, letting his eyes close as he savors the taste.

You try your hardest to stay still, gripping the bedsheets tight. His soft hair brushes against your thighs and it makes you shiver, goosebumps littering your body as he moves his tongue from side to side. He takes his time with you, his tongue slowly licking and circling to draw out the most noise from you that he can. He lets out a groan as you whine and mewl, and it's hard not to let his hips press into the bed. His fingers are hot against your thighs, his touch light at first, and then pressing hard enough to keep you from writhing in his grasp.

"Good girl." His teeth graze your skin, and it's enough to make you gasp. His kisses start getting more desperate, and he gives another long swipe across your heat before he decides to focus on your sensitive bundle of nerves. In an instant you feel his tongue against it, and his groan vibrates against you as he holds you steadily in place. “Is that good, baby?”

You nod, struggling to find your voice in the moans and pants.

“Words, baby.” Steve says, blowing air directly on your clit.

You whimper. “Feels so fucking good, Stevie.”

He hums in appreciation. "You're pretty enough to be a goddess. A muse," he murmurs against you, his tongue moving in slow circles now, "and you're all mine." His voice is breathless, his moans almost too much for the microphone to pick up, and he starts to move his tongue in faster circles, drawing mewls and whines from you. Between desperate whines, you could barely make out moans of his name in your haze, your hips trying and failing to jerk against him. "My pretty baby, all mine.”

You gasp and whine. “Fuck, all yours!”

He's relentless against you, almost too much and not enough all at once. His hands grip harder at your thighs, his tongue working in dizzying circles. His grunts and groans vibrate against you, and he glances up at you for a moment, the sight of you a beautiful mess. "So pretty, baby." He doesn't slow his motions, not giving you a chance to recover, and you can feel that he's getting hungry for you. You can hear the sounds of the camera capturing everything, the whirling and clicking as it records it all.

“You’re doing so good, baby. My good girl,” he coos, pausing to gasp between the praise. He switches to small, short strokes as he moans against you, his tongue hitting your sensitive bundle perfectly each time. Every noise he makes seems to excite you, pushing you closer and closer to your edge.

Your hips buck against his face, your clit bumping against his nose.

“That’s it, baby.” Steve’s voice is low and thick with a mix of desire and lust. His tongue flicks against you, bringing out whines with each stroke. His grip on your thighs is tight but careful, his nails pressing into your skin just a little too hard to be unintentional. It’s obvious that he loves this, the taste of you and the sound of your moans are his favourite, and he would never get enough of it. It's the thing that drives him crazy, the thing that makes his mind blank and his body run hot.

Your moans get louder, your head leaning back into the pillow. Steve groans against you, his tongue moving in short, fast circles as he presses his hips into the bed to try and get some friction. His breathing becomes more erratic with each moan from you, and the sounds of licking and panting get louder within the room. His hands grip your hips, his mouth growing hungry as he picks up the pace. “God, the sounds you make…”

You let out a shaky gasp, your thighs clenching around his head.

He moans loudly in response, his mouth moving with fervor as he feels your thighs clench around him. The sounds of the wet, needy movements only grow louder as his tongue hits every sensitive nerve of your clit as it slides against you. “God, baby. I love you. I love you so much.” Steve's groan is breathless as he presses closer, his tongue moving in sloppy, desperate circles now. He wants more.

You squirm and shake when he slides a finger into your cunt, sliding his thumb up and down your slit. His body presses further into the bed as his fingers slide into you without warning. You moan as your back arches off the bed, your whine going up an octave and your body trembling as he works his fingers in time with his tongue. “My beautiful girl. All mine.”

You pant, your hips bucking into his face.

His free hand grips your hip to keep you from writhing away as he works you up as fast as he can. He slides another finger into your cunt, chuckling at the way you shake. “Can’t help myself, baby. So pretty, so sweet. I could do this forever if you’d let me.”

You reach down and run your fingers through his hair. “Cl-close, Stevie!” Your whole body feels hot, legs shaking every single time he sucks on your clit.

“I know, I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with his thumb. “But you need permission.” You whine loudly in response, trying to press your clit into his thumb even harder. He moves his thumb in small, tight circles against you. “I wanna hear you ask for it, baby. Ask me like a good girl.”

His fingers move in and out of you, curling with each movement to draw out more whines and whimpers. “You want that, baby?” You nod desperately in response, your back arching slightly. His voice sounds like his mind was being reduced to nothing but you, only you. “Then beg for it. Ask nicely. Beg.”

The words tumble out of your mouth. “Please! Please Stevie! Please let me cum, I’ve been a good girl!” You sound so desperate and Steve laps it up.

Steve lets out a groan as his breath catches in his throat, his body pressing into the bed at your words. He lets out a low laugh. “So pretty…good girl.” He shifts your hips slightly, angling you towards the camera. His fingers speed up once more inside of you. “That’s it baby, cum for me. You’ve been so good, it’s okay. Cum for me. Let the camera see you cum…”

You cum hard, your hips lifting off of the bed. Your moans fill the air alongside the clicks and the whirring of the camera. He works you through it, his fingers and thumb drawing out every possible second of your high as you squirm. He groans as he sees a stream of wetness dribble out of you, forming a puddle under your thighs. He takes one last swipe with his tongue, sucking at your sensitive nerves one last time before lifting himself up to look at you. You already look wrecked, just how Steve likes you. “You okay, baby?”

After a few seconds you nod, your head feeling floaty.

He chuckles as he watches the rise and fall of your chest slow down. He gives a final kiss to your clit before crawling up to you, leaning down to kiss you. “God, you’re amazing.” As soon as his lips touch yours, you taste yourself on his tongue, and he chuckles as you recoil slightly. “Come here.” Steve pulls you close to his chest, his kisses becoming less frenzied and more soft and sweet.

After a few seconds he pulls away, looking back at the camera. “Do you wanna keep going?” You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve grins, pushing you onto your back once again. “Good. You’re such a good girl, all nice and ready for my cock.”

You let out another moan as he pulls his underwear down, making sure to look right into the lens as your home video continues.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you all enjoyed! :> requests are open!

#keikiwrites #f!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington fluff

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skyahri · 7 days

Text

Remember |SatoSugu X Reader| HC

Part Two

Summary: You get a second chance to save him, but for right now you can only enjoy the fact that he's still here.

Warnings: Implied poly??? Idk I don't say anything specific. Vomiting, blood, Canon related warnings. Angst bc im sad. Lemme know if you want a part two.

- - - - -

Your eyes flew open. You could barely breathe, your lungs still stinging from the char of imaginary burns. You desperately drag your hands across your face and body, searching for something, anything wrong, not quite processing what was going on.

You sprung up from your bed, immediately thanking your muscle memory as it guided you through your dorm room. You shoved your way into the bathroom and just barely made it to the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach.

Tears pricked your eyes. You had no idea what was going on. You could only assume that you had another prophetic dream, but had no idea when it had started. Had it been days or weeks? Hell, had it been months even??

You remember the pain of being burned alive by Jogo in Shibuya Station. You remember dying, the feeling of your lungs giving out and your heart stopping.

Yet here you were, alive and relatively well back in your dorm room God knows when. The unchanging state of Jujutsu High was not helping you determine just how much time had passed.

What did, however, was Suguro Geto standing in the doorway. He was saying something you couldn't hear and your foggy mind couldn't process the lack of stitches on his head, but that didn't stop you from screaming.

Was this your Suguru? The boy who held doors open for you and dragged Satoru away after one too many flirty remarks. Could this man already be leading the Star Religious group? Or worse, be reduced to a corpse in his Kenjaku era?

There's no way you could possibly tell in such a hazy state of mind. Your gift had drained you to zero, leaving you absolutely defenseless against what could very well be a tyrant.

Lucky for you, you're within ear shot of a handful of other sorcerers who woke up the second they heard a scream. They were filing into your room within the minute, confused at the commotion, or lack there of.

Satoru had pushed his way past Suguru and bent down next to you, grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you continued to retch.

He's leaning in next to your ear, whispering, begging for you to calm down enough to tell him what's going on. You can barely hear him over the sound of your uncontrollable crying, the sobbing and shaking caused by panic making everything a hundred times worse.

Satoru is motioning for someone to hand him a rag to clean your face, which Suguru does without hesitation. When he enters your peripheral vision, you can practically feel the hairs on your neck stand up. You push your way past Gojo, who had just barely managed to wipe your mouth, trying to climb behind him, pleading that he doesn't come anywhere near you.

You can't see the hurt look on Geto's face. He has no idea what's going on, all he knows is he's somehow causing whatever it is that's happening to occur.

You don't hear Gojo shoo everyone away, apologizing for waking them up in the middle of the night and assuring them that he has it handled.

He rests against the wall and twists you around so you can sit comfortably in his lap. He holds you tight against his chest, it's almost suffocating, but you can feel the pressure slowly melting the anxiety away.

The fog that once clouded your brain is retreating, allowing you to take in your environment more clearly. There's makeup and skin care products scattered on the counters. You can make out enough of your bedroom to see the dozens of Polaroids pinned to your walls.

You eyes finally focus on a more defining feature that better cements your whereabouts. Your nails are painted pink and Satoru's an icy blue, something you haven't seen since your teenage years before Geto defected. You remember finally convincing Satoru to match with you and Suguru, tempting him with an iconic color that you knew he couldn't turn down.

"What's today?"

"February 21st, 2006."

You hum in response.

"Were you dreamin' again?"

You don't answer. You're too focused on how much time has passed. Twelve years gone in an instant. That's nearly half your life, nearly all your memories, and they were all fake. But now you had the opportunity of a lifetime. An opportunity to save all the people you've lost and protect your future.

You're thankful for Satoru in this moment. He isn't always the most socially aware, often times he actually makes things ten times worse, but right now he was just what you needed.

You take in just how warm he is, how he's managed to keep his hands from touching you inappropriately for so long. He's wearing that stupid pair of Hello Kitty boxers that 'convienently came with a matching bra and panty' and 'would hate for them to go to waste.' You scolded him for getting the sizing correct, knowing he had to have gone snooping for answers.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

You had good friends, ones that trusted you without a second thought. They know the deal. Things are going to happen and sometimes that requires interference or being intentionally kept in the dark to avoid them. It was both a blessing and a curse- being given the gift of future sight yet being forced to hold the weight of the world in your hands.

You stand up, forcing Gojo to release his tight grip on you. He expects you to get in bed, but instead, you walk right past the door of your room and right across the hall into Suguru's. You don't knock, opting to just head straight in and crawl across him to lay down.

Suguru is confused. An hour ago, you were completely terrified of him, and now here you are, staring at him like he was the most important person in your life.

You reach forward and trace your fingers across his face; his nose, his lips, and eventually his bare forehead. You run your fingers through his hair; disheveled but clean. You pick up his right hand and set it on your face to savor the heat of it. He doesn't hesitate to rub his thumb back and forth across your cheek reassuringly. What he's supposed to reassure you about, he doesn't know, but he can tell you need it.

"You're oddly affectionate tonight."

"I missed you."

"I saw you yesterday."

You shake your head. You want to respond, to tell him you've dreamt of this opportunity for over a decade, that you haven't seen him alive in a year, and sane in nearly twelve.

But all you can do is cry. You lace your fingers with the ones on your face and let him pull you closer. His chest is broad and he smells like cologne, just like how you remembered.

The last time you saw him, he was sickly pale and missing an arm, just moments away from death. He smelled like blood and didn't even have the energy to stand. This view of Geto was much more pleasant than anything you had seen recently.

He has no idea what's going on, but can see it's obviously a lot. He wonders what you could have seen, how long you could have possibly lived. He wonders if someone died, if he died.

He's not sure how long it goes on before you're passed out, your grip on him relaxing ever so slightly, but he doesn't dare let go.

Gojo makes his way into the room from his waiting place outside. He stuck around on the off chance things got out of hand and he needed to intervene.

"How's our girl doing?"

"I have no idea."

"That's unlike you."

Suguru isn't sure how to respond. The vibe isn't his room is definitely more relaxed, but it's far from peaceful. All he can do right now is anchor you down to earth and hope whatever it is you saw can be fixed.

Fortunately, Satoru is a brave man. He clumsily makes his way onto the other side of you and flops down. You don't even flinch at the roughness of his actions.

"What are you-"

"Sleeping here with you guys, duh."

"Can't you read the room?"

"Nope."

#jjk headcanons #jjk hc #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satosugu #satosugu x reader #geto angst #gojo angst

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queers-gambit · 2 months

Text

The Blood of the Covenant

prompt: ( requested ) being raised alongside the Twins, you naturally fell on path to become a contract killer - much to Tangerine's chagrin. when you're recruited onto the Bullet Train, too, emotions cum into play - get it?

pairing: Tangerine x female!assassin!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 9.4k+

note: this isn't very good, i'm very sorry.

warnings: codename Olive 'cause it's cute, cursing, Lord's name in vain, mild spoilers, AU timeline (obviously), Tan is still Aaron, Lem is still Brian, emotional confessions, mild depiction of violence, very short and poorly written smut, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, needles / weaponized venom [The Hornet], and dead bodies.

"So, you get on the train, you find the Twins, and you get off - it's easy," Constance, your handler, scolded through the phone. "Seriously, why are you so nervous? It's like the most lowkey job you've ever been assigned."

"Yeah, you're just forgetting the part where I have to locate some generic looking briefcase on this God forsaken train, make sure they have the White Death's son, then get them all off - "

"Okay, see, now you're making it all complicated," Constance laughed again. "C'mon, Olive, tell me the truth."

"What truth?"

"You're nervous," she sang in your ear.

"No shit, I'm nervous!" You snapped, connecting the bluetooth device and shoving your phone in your pocket as the train jetted into the station. "Do you have a good reason I shouldn't be?"

"Um, how about the fact that you guys grew up in the orphanage together, making you practically family, and that they're gonna be overjoyed to see you?"

"Yeah, right!" You laughed, "You don't know the guys, and it's been, like, 4 years since I've seen them. They're scary overprotective and if they know what I'm doing professionally, they'll probably handcuff me to one of them and deliver me to some nunnery."

"Are those even a thing anymore?"

"Fuck if I know," you snorted.

"You're overthinking, Olive, just breathe," she advised. "Look, the intel is good. The White Death is up to something and if you wanna see the Twins alive, you need to get them off the train."

"Cool, so fuck the case and the son?"

"Nope, you wanna get paid, you gotta grab them, too."

You sighed, the train doors opening. "Well, here goes fucking nothing..."

"I've literally never heard you this nervous, it's kinda cute."

"Constance, is there a reason we're still on the phone?" You asked, nodding at the people you passed and excusing yourself as you searched the train cars slowly.

"I wanna hear how this goes!"

"Call you when I have the payloads, 'mmkay?"

"No," she whined, "c'mon, lemme hear the reunion!"

"Goodbye, Constance, as always, you're a giant pain in my ass."

"Oh, like you're a basket of roses. Fine, go, deprive me of this. Fucking killjoy!"

"Talk soon - and if not, I'm probably shot."

"Well, just... Don't get shot?"

"Spot-on advice, love."

"You'd be lost without me."

"Bye, you idiot."

"Seriously, don't get shot!"

Disconnecting the call, you chuckled to yourself and dodged around a family. However, right behind them was a man in a bucket hat and thick black framed glasses carrying a silver briefcase, who bumped your shoulder. "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am," he instantly apologized in English.

"No worries," you smiled, nodding at him. "Have a nice ride."

"You, too," he nodded back, and you turned to continue on your way, missing the way the man eyed you - and gulped when he caught sight of the gun in your waistband. He scurried on his way.

You entered another train car, pausing to take a long breath as you surveyed the patrons. You moved onto the next section, the train rocketing into motion. However, as you approached the next set of doors, you gasped and skirted to a halt when two men lingered in the connection.

"Oh - what the bloody fuck are you doing here!?" Aaron snapped instantly.

"Well, hello to you, too, love," you grumbled with a curled lip.

"Hi, doll!"

You grinned at Brian, greeting him with enthusiasm; offering a giant hug, him kissing your cheek noisily. "So good to see you," you told him when you pulled back.

"Tan," Brian snapped, glaring at him as he gestured at you. "C'mon, mate, don't be like this - 's been years!"

"Yeah, Tan," you pouted dramatically.

"You even know what Tan stands for?" Brian snickered.

"Nope."

"Tangerine," then he pointed at himself, "Lemon."

Aaron's blue eyes rolled, sighing deeply before nodding. "Right, right, c'mere, then, you," he opened his arms, and when you stepped into his embrace, you swear, it was like returning home. After a beat, you felt his arms tighten and his nose press into your neck, subtly inhaling; making you give him a tighter squeeze.

"Oh, Jesus, all right, c'mon, I'm standing right here," Lemon groaned, you and Tan parting, but only saddling beside him with his arm around your neck and yours anchored around his waist.

"So," you chirped, shifting your body weight, "you two have the case, I assume? And the Son - "

"Oh, you've gotta be fuckin' joking," Tangerine snapped, glaring at you as you grinned mischievously. "How's it you know about any of that?"

"She's on assignment, felt the gun when I hugged her," Lemon snickered as if it were common knowledge. "How long you've been working, love? Why didn't you ring us? Talk to us 'bout this?"

"I needed to?"

"No, but just for a bit of a catch-up?" Lemon shrugged. "You know, tell us you're doin' some dangerous job instead of teaching? Aren't you supposed to be a teacher now?"

"This pays better."

"Not gonna get paid a single dime, the fuck's wrong with you?" Tan snapped, dropping the arm from your neck to round on you in anger. "You're seriously on a job?"

"Mhm," you hummed with a smile. "And why won't I see a dime, exactly?"

"'Cause you're not doin' this fuckin' job, love, for fuck's sake!"

"Tan, just calm down," Lemon sighed, holding a hand to him as the man with a pornstache paced in a small circle; wiping a hand around his mouth. "Love? What's the job you're on?"

"Mh," you nodded, "well, 's a bit unprofessional to tell you, but fuck it. I'm to collect the case, grab the White Death's son, and get you two off this fucking train."

"Oh - for fuck's - "

"Tan!" Lemon laughed. "Mate, take a breath! She's obviously qualified if she's made it this far, got this assignment."

You grinned, "You ever hear rumors about that shit that went down in Medellín?"

"Don't tell me," Lemon gasped. "That was you?"

"Most of it wasn't intentional, but I'm pretty good at improvising," you teased. "Anyways, I heard about Bolivia, you two are certainly making names for yourselves, aren't yah?"

"Well," Lemon smiled bashfully, waving you off.

"Right, so, we're approaching the next station," you pointed out, clasping your hands in front of you and smiling, "so, where's the Son?"

"Oh, uh, up there," Lem pointed to the next train car.

"Mhm, good, good, good, and the case?" There was an awkward silence as Lemon and Tangerine exchanged long looks. "Hey? Where's the case, Brian - I mean, Lemon?"

"Well, uh... Funny thing, yeah?" He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Tan? Sweetheart?" You smiled prettily, reaching for his hand to halt his pacing, "Where's the case?"

"It's..." Tan trailed, seeing Lemon shaking his head vigorously from behind you. He sighed when he met your sweet eyes and admitted, "It got lifted, love."

"Oh, you fuckin' simp," Lemon groaned.

"What? Wanted me t'lie? She's got that sixth sense for that shit, mate!" Tangerine defended.

"No, you're just whipped!"

"She's looking for the same bloody case, she'd know eventually!"

You let go of Tan's hand to answer your ringing phone, holding a finger to them both, "Hey, Constance, now's not a great time."

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing, just reuniting with the lads," you eased. "I'll call you when we have the case and kid, and are off the train, all right? And if I don't - "

"Yeah, yeah, you're shot. Fine, just..." She sighed. "Listen, you three aren't the only ones on assignment."

"Hmm?" You perked your brows.

"Yeah, so, Maria's got an agent in the field. Also, I just got intel that the Wolf's there, no idea why. The Hornet, too."

"You're fuckin' joking, right?"

"Nope. They popped up on our travel itineraries. They used pseudonyms naturally, but we have their records."

"Fuck me, all right... All right, yeah, we'll handle it."

"No, don't handle anything! Remember Rome!?"

"Rome wasn't my fault!" You snapped, taking a deep breath. "But it did piss the Hornet off, we'll be careful."

"Get off the fucking train, Olive!"

"When the packages are secured, love, yeah, all right, gotta go, bye-bye now!"

"Olive - "

You hung up and put your phone in your back pocket, sighing at the Twins. "Well, this just got more interesting. We aren't the only ones on this job," you frowned.

"What?" Lem's face dropped.

"Wait, what happened in Rome?" Tangerine asked, offering you his signature look of annoyance: a frown and pinched brows.

"Oh, nothing that was my doing," you waved off. "So, to recap, the case is missing, but the Son is secured?"

"Zip tied to his seat," Lemon nodded.

"Mhm, and where was the case?"

"I had it stashed, but..." He eyed the luggage tossed around the compartment.

"Now, it's gone. Okay, okay," you nodded, "so, just for future reference, don't stash the goods, all right? Terribly unprofessional, darling."

"Yeah," he nodded sadly.

"Oh, so when she says it - "

"She doesn't get all smart with me!" Lemon cut Tangerine off with a warning finger as he paced in the compartment. "The fuck do we do? We just passed the station - the fucker could've gotten off - I mean!"

"Easy," you spoke softly, but the panic was set between the two. You sighed when Lemon turned frantic, leaning back on the wall as Tangerine stood beside you.

"No, no, look, we got his son," Lemon reminded. "That was our job."

Tangerine shared a look with you, making you chide, "Stay calm. You get nowhere bein' so up-tight." His expression melted into something close to reprimanding, but he sighed and faced Lemon.

"Our job was to come back with his son and his $10 million. Three words to describe our situation right now, do you know what they are?"

Lemon glared, "Sure do." Then held up three fingers, dropping one for each word, "Saved - his - son. Hmm? Family's more important than money, right?"

"Do you honestly not know who the White Death is?"

"Yeah, I know who the White Death is. You just told me five minutes ago," Lemon snipped, making you sigh as he rambled an explanation.

"Why do I even bothering forwarding you the briefings?" Tan interrupted, exasperated by the entire ordeal.

There was a pause and Lemon replied softly, almost sheepishly, "I do not know. You get briefings, love?"

"Mhm, but my handler likes giving me the CliffNotes," you eased with a small shrug.

When Tangerine turned from you two to face the train's door, staring out the window, you and Lemon shared a look - his hand raising as if to wave off Tan's theatrics. In return, you just held a placating hand to him, letting Tangerine start his story about the White Death. When he got through his tale, he took a long breath, sighing deeply, musing as he turned back to you both, "So, let me put this bluntly. There's this soulless, psychotic leader with the largest criminal organization on the planet," then his hands dramatically gestured, "shoved right inside our fucking arse cheeks."

Lemon stared at his partner and then, too, mused, "That motherfucker's definitely a Diesel, then, isn't he?"

"You mention Thomas the Tank Engine one more time, I'm gonna shoot you in the fucking face," Tangerine snapped.

"No, no, he won't, Brian," you stepped in, standing between the two, glancing between them.

"'S Lemon when on the job, love."

"All right, sure, my apologies, Lemon," you agreed, "but he's not gonna shoot you." Lemon hummed and pointed at you in triumph, mocking Tangerine, making you scold, "No, don't do that, either. Your attitude gets us nowhere, right, lads?"

Lemon nodded at you before looking to Tan, asking, "Okay, okay, if-if-if-if he's such a badarse, how come he hired three random operators instead of getting his son back himself?"

"I wasn't hired by the White Death," you smiled, reaching a hand to Tangerine's to hold tightly when you saw his fuse about to blow. "And, you see, he had a wife, Lem."

"What? He had a wife?"

"Yeah," you nodded, ignoring Tan's impending meltdown, "and she was the most important thing in his life, and she died in a car crash. Some reports say it was an accident, some drunk driver... And others say it was an assignation attempt." You missed the look Tangerine sent you, looking you up and down, relating to the 'most important thing' comment. "But since then, he's not left the compound," you finished.

"An unnamed locomotive might say there's a lesson to be learned," Lemon quipped, irritating Tangerine.

"And you know what? He didn't hire three - or two," Tan amended, nodding at you, "random operators, Lemon. No, he asked for the best. He asked for the two responsible for the Bolivia job. He asked for pros, who wouldn't fuck up... Three words, Lemon, and now, you, too, sweetheart," he sneered at you. "We - are - "

"Fucked," Lemon finished.

"Oi, listen here, you two Debbie Downers, Christ, all right? Every situation can be remedied," you assured. "Yeah, this is - this isn't ideal, but between us three, we can figure something out. Yeah? Talkin' about you two bein' the best," you squeezed Tan's hand, "surely we can figure something out. C'mon, when do we give up?"

Lemon cocked his head, asking, "All right. Yeah, sure, but what's your codename? Can't go 'round callin' you your government. Would blow our covers."

"Olive," you smiled brightly, Tangerine scoffing. "Fuck off," you snapped instantly.

"Right, well, Olive's right," Lemon deflected, not giving Tan time to retort. He reached out to adjust Tan's suit lapel and tie, "We rescued his fucking son. Huh? We find the fucker who took the briefcase, make things right, be like it never happened," he laid out for you two, and when you tired to release his hand, Tangerine held on tighter - not letting you go.

Tangerine took a deep breath in, letting it out as he pulled out his gun with his free hand, flipping it open, checking the full round of bullets present, and snapping it closed before storing it again. He glanced at you before asking Lemon, "Still got that vest on yah?"

"No, vests give you a false sense of security," Lemon answered. "You might, like, get shot in the neck."

"Yeah, it also stops you from getting shot in the chest, but I guess you missed that episode of Thomas, did'yah?" Tan quipped, not letting Lemon time to answer because he looked at you again. "Bein' said, you are gonna stay put, doll face."

"Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"Heard me," he snapped. "You're sitting this one out."

"I don't remember being hired by you," you dropped his hand to cross your arms. "You don't get a say in what I do - this isn't like back in the group home where you two bossed me 'around, playin' big brother."

"It's exactly like that, 'cause we've been doin' this a helluva lot longer - "

"And I was still hired to do this job, so, I suggest you shut the fuck up and watch yourself."

"I'm tryna keep you safe!"

"We're not children anymore, Aaron!" You snapped. "You don't get to dictate what I do anymore! Christ, all right? I was hired for this job, just like you two, so you can either get with the program and we work together, or just shut the fuck up - 'cause I'm not sitting a Goddamn thing out!"

"Jesus fuck, could cut the sexual tension between you two with a fucking plastic spoon." Lemon scoffed, rolling his eyes; earning two identical glares for either of you. "Fine, whatever, keep denying whatever this is - but look, you two done?" Lemon sighed, and when you nodded, he nodded back. "Right - nut up or shut up, bruv."

You went to follow Lemon out, but Tan snagged your arm before you got a step too far. He kept you at his side, laying your arm in the crook of his, and in-sync, he and Lemon fluffed their outerwear as you three stalked up the train aisle. You licked the pad of your thumb and wiped a bit of grime from the corner of Tan's mouth, his smirk directed at you as you approached the Son secured in his seat.

"Well, so, slight change of plans," Tan announced when you reached the seating. Lemon reached out to alert the seemingly sleeping Son, but the movement of his shoulder caused the lad's head to lull towards you three - making each of you recoil instantly.

"Oh!" You three groaned in union, seeing the rivers of blood streaming down the Son's eyes. He was dead as a doornail, some would say.

You stood watch as Tan and Lem leaned in closer to observe the dead body, Lemon commenting, "First his wife, now his son? That's a lot of white deaths."

Tangerine took a deep breath in, you reaching out to squeeze his elbow. "Sit down," you hissed quietly, "before you draw attention to us standing around a fucking corpse!"

"You're on watch!" Tan shot back.

"Can't do shit if you two are just staring at him! Fuck's sake, sit! You're so suspicious, aren'y you meant to be an agent?"

You pushed Lemon into the seat next to the Son and then Tan into the seating beside the window so you could claim the outside seat beside him. "We gotta disguise the body," Tan whispered, whipping out his handkerchief. You watched him dab the material to his tongue, reaching across to start cleaning the blood while Lemon looked around for anything to help.

"Hang on, hang on," he rushed, Tan pausing when a souvenir cart was approaching and pushing the lad's head towards the window. "Could we get a pair of them glasses, please?" He asked the kind attendant. "They look real fun."

The pretty lady nodded and handed over the oversized toy glasses, Lemon forking over a simple note and insisting the change be kept. You thanked the attendant in her native language as she passed, and after doing a look up and down again, nodded, "All right, go."

"Any fuckin' idea what happened?" Lemon muttered.

"No," Tan snapped.

"Looks like The Hornet's work," you whispered. "Yeah, see, her specialty are poisons and venom, most notably, that of the Boomslang snake." You smirked, "Anyone see the news recently? A Boomslang went missing earlier..."

Tan pulled the lad's head back and continued cleaning the blood off, needing to raise outta his seat to finish the job. Lemon offered, "Here, mate, try these. They're them Momonga glasses."

"The fuck is a Momonga?" Tan sneered through a small panicked pant, taking the toy and settling them on the Son's face.

"Japanese anime kid's show," you offered softly.

"Comes on after Thomas every Thursday," Lemon rushed, gasping, "oh, shi - " when the Son's head dropped. Tan and Lem fixed him to look as if he was only sleeping by leaning his head on the window.

"Thought you two were masters of disguise?" You teased.

"Shut it, darling, please," Tan snipped with a sigh. "All right, we need to split up - there's a lot of train to cover."

"What're we doing?" You asked, standing when Tan gestured you out of the way.

"Gonna find whoever has the case - probably the same nut job who killed the kid," he seethed. "The Hornet, you said?" He asked, watching you nod. Standing as a trio in the middle of the train aisle, you three agreed to split up and search for the case, but Tan insisted you come with him, "as back-up."

"You seriously need it?" You chuckled.

"No, but I wanna keep an eye on yah," he rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't someone stay with the body?" You wondered.

"He's not gonna get any deader."

"Is that even a word?" You asked Lemon, giggling when Tangerine rolled his eyes and snatched your hand to follow after him.

You and Tan had scoured the entire train, but had zero luck. The only direction the two of you had was from a young girl with a crisp bob haircut in first class, who told Tan she saw a man with black frame glasses with their desired case. Your mind flashed back to earlier, remembering the blonde man and how he had a briefcase. It must've been their briefcase.

He must've just lifted it when you boarded and accidentally ran into him. You hated how foolish you felt, but there was no way you could've known that was the case you were after. Still, you felt a pang of disappointment in yourself - some sick desire to impress your brothers with your skill, to prove to them you're capable of being in this line of work. That you weren't that little girl in the orphanage anymore, but a woman grown who was capable of making her own decisions and having greater purpose.

"Hey," you paused Tan in another connection that lead to the next train car, "you go ahead and update Lemon, I'm gonna pop into the loo."

"I'll wait," he nodded, his phone ringing. "Sorry, love, just a minute. 'S fucking business."

You only nodded and slipped into the bathroom, doing your business, washing your hands, and when you emerged, you jumped back slightly in shock when the Momonga mascot was standing right there in the doorway. You peaked to your right, and in the next train car, through the window, spied Tangerine on his phone, the car mostly empty to your left.

"You need in here?" You asked the mascot, but it just stared at you. "I mean, d-do you need help outta that God awful costume?" More silence. "Riiiight, well, this is weird as fuck. Soooo... I'm just gonna... Go..." You mumbled, slipping out of the bathroom, but was instantly blocked from Tan's view. "The fuck? Oi, c'mon, mate, my friend technically gave you the plushie back." More silence. "Look, you creepy motherfucker - "

But you gasped when the plush mascot shoved you backwards, forcing you to stumble into the automatic door leading to the empty train car - yelping when it opened and you fell backwards.

"Fuck! Goddamnit, that hurt," You snapped, rolling to your feet as the human-sized plushie waddled towards you; the back of your head throbbing from impact and the automatic doors closing to trap the pair of you. "What the fuck, mate? What'd I do? The fuck you want?"

When the oversized head was removed, your mouth went dry. "Remember me, bitch?" The Hornet seethed.

"Ah, fuckin' Christ."

The Hornet smirked, "You've seen my face, you know what that means? I gotta take you out. You've evaded me too long."

"Rome wasn't my fault!" You barked instantly, watching her begin to maneuver out of her costume.

"You got my partner killed, bitch!"

"It was an accident!"

"Bullshit, bitch!" She raged, shedding her mascot costume to reveal a train attendant's uniform - wondering how long she'd been waiting for this opportunity if she was prepared to this level. "You had a hit list, we were on it - "

"Oh, fuck off, as if you've never been given orders!"

Her neck cracked as she tossed the costume to an empty seat. "Time to get my revenge," she grit, "bitch."

"Learn some new insults, my God, you're so fuckin' boring. Throw in some 'cunts' or even call me a 'arsehole', just lay off the 'bitches'," your eyes rolled, dodging the Hornet's first flying fist and nearly stumbling off your feet. You exchanged blows, dancing around one another, grunting, growling, heaving for breath, trying to incapacitate the other. On a particularly hard push, the Hornet managed to dislodge your gun and send it under a set of seats.

"Not so tough now, are yah, bitch?" She laughed sarcastically.

You wiped a small dribble of blood from your lip, panting to heave your shoulders up and down. "All right, you asked for this. Bring it on - bitch!" You laughed right back, the Hornet lunging forward. However, you missed the way she pulled out a prefilled syringe and tried to stab you with it; luckily evading the injection.

"Know what's in here?" She taunted. "Boomslang venom! Yeah, that's right. Highly potent, hits your system in 30 seconds, making you bleed from every orifice - "

"I know, you stupid fucking wanker! I watch the bloody news! I went to college! I'm educated enough to know!"

The doors opened again, revealing Tangerine. "Fuckin' hell!" He snapped, "You all right, Olive!? Hey?"

"Stay back, Tan, this bitch is mine!"

The Hornet wailed as she launched at you again. You were battered and beaten, the other woman lobbing you into furniture, tables, and train walls - causing small cuts to form on your unblemished skin. Yet still, you barked at Tangerine to stay back, that you had this.

You and the Hornet ended up on the floor, trying to one up each other. However, luck was not on your side because the Hornet had you pinned and she simply dropped the syringe into the flesh of your hand. You didn't need to think too deeply, you just rolled over, snatched up the syringe, and stabbed her, too - exposing her to the venom by pushing the syringe's plunger. You both stared at one another with wide eyes, panting.

"30 seconds before the venom does its thing," you taunted, knowing that any good assassin kept the antidote on their person - just in case. Her eyes narrowed and tongue swept over her front teeth, weighing her options; eyes locked in a stalemate, daring the other to make the first move. Do nothing, you both die... Reveal the antidote, only one will die.

She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a new syringe, you lunging for it with impressive lithe to stab into your neck and push the plunger. She seethed, "You bitch."

You stumbled back a step, colliding with Tan's chest as neither of you could look away as the Hornet's eyes went red with blood filling every cavern and crevice. "Oh, shit, that doesn't look good," you winced in fake sympathy. "You've got another syringe, right? A back-up?"

She warbled and wheezed, "What do you think, bitch?"

"What's with the whole bitch thing?" Tan asked in your ear. "She know any other words?"

You only shrugged as blood poured from the Hornet's eyes, filling her lungs to drown her from the inside. "No second antidote? Ah, that's just poor planning on your end, love," you taunted when the Hornet dropped to the ground, choking, blood leaking from her mouth. "I mean, you only carry one antidote? I thought you were supposed to be a professional? With your choice of weapon being venom, I mean," you laughed a little, "seems pretty stupid."

The Hornet continued to choke, trying to crawl up the aisle, but only getting a few feet before the effects of the venom took hold fully. She flopped onto her back, the blood congealing in a thick and tacky substance; staining the stolen uniform and floors of the train.

"What the fuck was that?" Tan snapped, turning you to face him. "Are you hurt!?" He worried, checking you over for visible sign of injury; finding two puncture wounds - one in your neck and one in your hand. You were decorated in soon-to-form bruises, but no bones were broken and you seemed relatively okay besides the small cuts.

"Tan," you soothed, placing your hand over his on your cheek. "I'm all right, I'm fine. She just caught me a little off guard."

"What the hell was that, huh? You got some kinda death wish, is it?"

"It's all part of the job!"

"Like hell, it is! This is why I didn't want you involved - "

"'Cause I could get hurt? Fuck's sake - "

"Yes, all right!" He exploded. "Yes, because you could get hurt! I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to you, and look at yah now! I was on the fuckin' phone and you were fighting this... Wait, who the fuck is that?" Tan pointed at the dead body.

"Mh. The Hornet," you answered with a shrug. "She's been after me since Rome 'bout two years ago. I might be one of the very few who knows what she actually looks like - so, no wonder she wanted me dead. Plus... I might've allegedly, possibly, kinda-sorta got her partner killed. Turns out, he was also her lover and she's been after me since."

His head shook, "So now you have international enemies?"

"I mean, I guess it means I'm good at what I do - else they wouldn't bother to come after me."

"You shouldn't say that with pride! That's not how this works!"

"Tell me how you think it should work, then!"

Tangerine glared, "You shouldn't be involved. You worked too hard to become a teacher, to have a real career, and you threw it all away, for what? For this life?"

"What do you care, Aaron!? Honestly!? 'S been years, you just disappeared from my life! I don't think you have the right to boss me around anymore! We're not fuckin' kids anymore!"

He huffed a sharp exhale, "You seriously don't know? Really that fuckin' oblivious?"

"I can't read minds! Why don't you use your words like a big boy?"

Aaron, one of your longest standing friends and practically your family without blood, just nodded sadly. "I thought it would've been obvious by now," he sighed.

"What're you - "

"I love you," Tan interrupted. "Yeah? I fucking love you."

"Yeah, I know, and I love you, too, Aaron, but that doesn't - "

"No," he interrupted in a snap, face falling, "no, I meant that I'm in love with you. Jesus Christ," his hand wiped down his face, "been in love with you for years now. Maybe it started when you punched Tommy Jenkins in the nose when we were 16, maybe it started when we aged outta the orphanage and got our first apartment together. I don't know when I fell in love with you, but I know I am."

You paused, "A-Are you serious?"

"Deadly. But luckily you've already had a dose of antidote, eh?"

The chuckle you emitted was involuntary. But then, your irritation bubbled, asking, "Why hold it in all this time? And if you were in love with me, why not call? Why abandon me in the first place? I went four years - four, Tan! - without you and Lem, the two people I treasured the most, felt safe with, found a family in. Not a single one of my letters were returned; you deprived me of any phone call, not even a single text! You just disappeared from my life."

He bowed his head, "I had to leave, sweetheart. I couldn't keep yah around."

"Why? Tell me why right now, or we'll go another four years - "

"This job is dangerous, love, bit too dangerous in honesty. You know that, but to have emotional attachments only leads to error and a lot of hurt. I was trying to play it safe, thinking I was protecting you, because if any of our enemies knew how precious you are to me, they'd use you against me - they'd hurt you and I couldn't risk that."

"You can't protect me from everything," you whispered. "Aaron, you and Brian are my family, you always have been. Your whole life, you've protected me from the brutality of life, but you can't protect me from reality any longer. I'm sorry if me working upsets you, but I know what I'm doing, Aaron. I'm not fragile, I won't shatter."

"I know," he sighed, shaking his head. "I know it's irrational, love, but I can't go another day without you. I know it's been four years too long, I thought of you everyday, and never have I had such regret. Walking away from you, doll, it hurt worse than getting shot."

You sighed and avoided his eyes, admitting, "I like to think that in some twisted way, I entered this life in the hope that I'd run into you. Felt like the only way we could see each other since this line of work is so bloody unorthodox."

Tangerine sniffled, "I always wanted to come back, find yah again, but I couldn't risk it. I can't risk you. And listen, if you don't feel the same, that's all right, love, I know I just sprang this one you, but I just needed you to know - "

"Aaron, you need to stop shutting yourself down when you feel vulnerable," you sighed patiently, waiting for him to nod his head silently to indicate for you to continue. "Take a breath and listen to me." Another nod and you revealed, "I've been in love with you, too, since we were teens. I didn't want to disrupt what we have, so I stayed quiet. You and Brian - you're the only ones I care about, the only ones I want in my crazy, chaotic, unpredictable life. Too much time as already passed, we've missed so much, I don't want to miss another minute."

He crowded closer to you, both hands lifting to hold your cheeks and stare into your eyes. "Been waiting ages t'hear that," he whispered.

You smiled softly, "I love you, Aaron. Absolutely, maddeningly, unequivocally in love with you."

He chuckled and returned the sentiment, foreheads brought together before his breath fanned across your lips. He paused to give you time to reject him, but you boldly pushed yourself to meet his lips in a long-awaited kiss that set your heart and soul on fire. Mouths moved in sync, cheeky tongues mingled, teeth gently clanked together as you kissed passionately and without restraint. His hands dropped to hold your waist, your own curling around his neck to gently thread your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck; his curls feeling soft, moisturized, and bouncy.

You were rudely interrupted by your phone, Tan pulling back with a small smirk, "Gonna get that? Might be important."

"Promise 's just Constance," you grumbled, fishing for your phone and stepping away from Tan's embrace. "Hey, love," you greeted.

"Ah! Thank God! You're not shot yet!"

"No, not shot, just stabbed, earned a few bruises but I'm good," you snorted, looking under the seats to locate you gun. "What's up, why're you calling again, I told you I'd call you when I'm good."

"We have new intelligence."

"Lay it on me," you sent Tangerine a look; his face stoic, indicating he was listening intently.

"Your next stop is the last stop that the White Death's men aren't stationed at. If you wanna make a clean getaway, you gotta get off at the next stop. It's your last chance."

You winced, "Uh... About that, so, funny thing..."

"What did you do?"

"You always think the worst of me, I don't always do shit."

"Did you?"

You paused and glanced at the squashed Hornet, shrugging, "Not really, it's just not the cleanest job I've done."

"What happened?"

"You always assume the worst in me."

"You only prove me right."

You chuckled, "Yeah, all right, fair enough. Listen," you sniffled, turning to face Tan, "we don't have the case or the Son..."

"You better fucking find them. After this stop, all others are gonna be too hard to get off at. The White Death has men in position."

"Well... Funny thing, right," you winced, rubbing the back of your neck, "uh, so, it wasn't our fault, but the Son is dead. The Hornet got to him, used Boomslang venom, I got her after so you can register her as deceased."

"Oh, fucking Christ! You fuckin' serious? Please tell me this is just a bad joke."

"Why would I lie?"

You heard Constance take a deep long breath, knowing she was counting to ten in her head to keep her composure. "Okay, Olive, sweetheart," she spoke slowly, "tell me you know where the case is. Please. I need to hear the words."

"Pretty sure Maria's guy lifted it, but no confirmation yet."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! Go fucking find him, get that case, and if you don't make the next stop, call me - there's always a backup plan."

"Let's just do Plan B, it'd save a helluva lotta time."

"Olive," Constance growled, "get the Twins, get the fucking case, and get off the fucking train before you all get fucking shot."

You nodded, "Yeah, all right, love, we're on it."

After hanging up, Tan mused, "So, how's Constance?"

"Uh, yeah, no, she's stressed," you cleared your throat. "Wait, how do you know her?"

"Our handler's collaborated with her before."

"Mhm... Okay, just listen, Aaron, I told you the White Death didn't hire me."

"Right."

"Meaning I need that case and I need you and Lem to get off this train with me. We're gonna get to a safe house - "

"No, no, love, we've our own agenda."

"The Son is dead, the case is missing, your job is literally fucked," you reminded sharply. "However, I can still make it worthwhile if we find the case and get off this train. C'mon, love," you pleaded, "you have to trust me. Please, just - don't go through with the last of this job, it's not gonna end well for anyone. But my way means we all get a chance at safety and keeping our lives."

His head shook, "We won't make it in time."

"We can try."

"We need to find Glasses first - and fucking Lemon."

You agreed.

"Looks like your luck's turned around, Joburg," Lemon sneered, the four of you coming to an agreement to take the case, leave the Son's body for the White Death to find, and get to your safe house.

"If it was up to me, we would've left him," Tangerine growled. "Seriously, love, why the fuck did we save him, too?"

"It was the right thing to do, we were all being set up," you explained, surveying the train station. "All right, c'mon, this way."

"So," Ladybug was heard, "you guys are, like, siblings?"

"Who? Us and Olive?" Lemon snickered, watching the blonde man nod. "Sure, mate, something like that."

"Seem real close, the way she risked her life for you two..."

"Well, they say the blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. 'Course we're gonna look after one another."

The three men followed you, Tangerine keeping a tight hold of the silver briefcase with a train sticker on the handle. When you made it outside the station without incident or interruption, there was a sleek Range Rover waiting at the curb - an old acquaintance of yours leaning on the grill.

"Olive!" The other agent greeted with a grin.

"Gouda," you returned with enthusiasm, hugging the man. "So nice to see you, thanks for doing this."

"Constance calls, I answer," he nodded, eyeing the three other agents behind you. "Huh... See you made some friends, did yah?"

"Something like that," you mused.

"How's it goin', Gouda?" Lemon asked, making your brows pinch.

"You know each other?" Your eyes shifted between the group.

"Unfortunately," Tangerine nodded with a sigh. "Mate..."

"Yeah, fuck you, too, Tangerine," Gouda sneered. "You know, Olive, your friend fuckin' shot me."

"Did you deserve it?"

Gouda paused, "Doesn't matter. All right, whatever, let's get goin', I'm supposed to get you to the safe house."

Everyone piled into the car, you in the passenger seat to give Gouda a rundown on the train's events. Why you needed the safe house. Why you got off before Kyoto, like was agreed upon. He agreed it was all a mess, telling you the team was still gathering information on the White Death's plan - something in motion that would've ended all your lives. Upon arriving at the safe house, you thanked Gouda, him telling you Constance would arrive in a few days to ensure you lot were smuggled out of the country - not trusting other methods as the White Death had associates planted everywhere.

The house was stalked fully with fresh food in the kitchen, a wall of racked weapons, money in a safe, and reinforced panic rooms in the event of an attack.

"Nice, very nice," Ladybug complimented, looking around the place. "Better than what we've got..."

"Pick your rooms, we'll be here a couple days. My handler's gonna work on getting us outta here without the White Death knowing. Maria negotiated terms for you, Mr. Bug, so you're staying with us."

Everyone spread out, finding the bedrooms fully equipped with new clothes and other necessities, like toiletries. Everyone was able to get long, hot showers, and eventually, when you exited the bathroom in a robe with a towel used to dry your hair, you found Lemon sitting on the living room couch - listening intently to the news report.

"Might wanna see this, love," Brian frowned, making room on the couch for you to sit.

"What's up?"

He nodded at the screen, you watching as a Japanese news station reported on a runaway bullet train that obliterated a local town. Your eyes widened, mindlessly translating the segment; Tangerine eventually joining you two. "What're you two watchin'?" He asked softly, standing behind the couch with his hands on your shoulders. From the opposite door that housed a few other bedrooms, Ladybug entered; the news catching his attention, too.

There was a tension in the air that couldn't be described.

"The White Death sent a fucking bullet train off the rails. All those innocent people..." You whispered, camera crews capturing the devastation and destruction caused. You realized, "He set us all up, he was gonna kill us all."

"Thank God for Constance. What the hell did we do to him, though?" Lemon wondered. "I mean, have any of us actually done a job for or against the White Death before?"

"No clue," Ladybug answered nervously, "but whatever we did, really pissed him off if that's his retaliation. What was the motive, though? Why put us all on the same mission? Same train?"

"Sounds like a vendetta," you answered, the room going silent as everyone contemplated your words. "C'mon, lads, 's been a day. Should get some shut eye."

"Yeah, yeah," Lemon sighed, "good idea. You'll let us know when Constance makes contact?"

You nodded in agreement, bidding them all a goodnight before heading for your designated room. It wasn't more than ten minutes later, you sat on the bathroom floor with an array of medical supplies spread around you in an effort to clean your wounds, when a knock sounded at your door. "Come in," you permitted, tending to a decent sized gash in your hairline.

"You all right?" Tangerine asked softly, leaning in the doorframe of your bathroom. He was dressed down in a pair of joggers and a black wife beater.

"Peachy keen, love."

"You know, this image, right here," he gestured to you, the blood drops on the pristine floor, and all the supplies you required, "is why I didn't want you involved."

You nodded slowly, "Yeah, but it's just the name of the game, you know?"

"Need help?"

"No, I'm about done," you sighed, tightening the gauze around your thigh, "but you can help me up, though."

He smirked and offered his hand, helping hoist you to your feet and sigh as he looked you over. You breezed past him, patting his chest under a blood-stained button up; entering your bedroom and dropping onto the bed to rub your tired feet. You watched Tan follow you, a question on the tip of his tongue that couldn't quite take form.

But Tangerine was a man of action, so he abandoned his words and knelt in front of you; caressing your jaw and cheek to sweep his thumb over the apple of your cheek. You were ready to question his unusually soft demeanor when he leaned in and pressed a sultry kiss to your lips - sucking the breath from your lungs.

You hummed in contentment when he pulled back with a small smirk, whispering, "Been wanting t'do that for ages."

"Took you long enough," you breathed, surging forward to wrap your arms securely around his neck and meet in a messy, passionate kiss that made both your heads spin.

Slowly, you felt Tan rise from his position and moved back on the bed to give him room to crawl over you; kiss never ceasing, only a tangled mess of lips, tongue, and teeth. You moaned with greed when his tongue swept against the seam of your lips, being granted access, letting your mouth mingle and dance together in unbridled passion you weren't even aware Aaron could harness.

"Fuck," you whimpered when he detached from your mouth and started down your neck; licking, scraping his teeth, creating a legion of markings as he went. After years of loving him at a distance, this entire ordeal felt surreal; as if in a dream or alternate universe. His hands squeezed your waist before drifting downward, caressing your hips, hoisting your uninjured leg up his hips before grinding his swelling cock into your pantie-covered cunt.

Your hands daintily fumbled with the material of his shirt, quickly shucking the material from his sculpted torso. You knew he was fit, but seeing him bare like this was something else entirely - mouth salivating, but being unable to truly appreciate him in his glory. You were both littered in bruises and cuts, evidence from fighting the entire night; careful with the injuries, happy with the soft, gentle way you caressed one another.

His hands moved to the tie of your robe, pulling the knot to release; able to slowly push the material aside and look down at your exposed flesh. No bra, no shirt, only a pair of panties under that robe. He licked his lips, meeting your eyes again. "C'mere," he whispered, sitting back, "waited too long, fuckin' hell."

You smirked and sat up, the both of you locking eyes and stripping from your cloth barriers as fast as you could. Reaching for him again, you crashed back into the mound of soft pillows, keeping him close; legs spread to accommodate his slender hips, holding his neck and shoulders to keep him where you wanted.

Tangerine grunted when you reached for his cock, stroking him slowly to full mast. Your lips were sticky, wet tongues wagging against one another to create webs of saliva when he pulled back. Gently knocking your hand away, Tangerine shimmied down your body, lips pressing quick pecks anywhere he could reach; pausing at your nipples and biting harshly.

You yelped with pleasure, back arching, Tangerine smirking at the reaction - mouth covering one breast as his hand pawed at the other to let his fingers pinch and tweak your nipple. His tongue flattened against your sternum, looking up to meet your eyes as he continued down your battered body until his face was nestled between your thighs. "Oh, Jesus fuck!" You moaned when he took his first taste.

He hummed, "Exactly my thoughts. Fuckin' hell, tastes bloody delightful - fuck me." He grunted and dove back in, latching his lips around your clit and using the fingers of his dominant hand to plunge knuckle-deep in your sloppy warmth. "That's a good girl," he praised, using two fingers to pump in and out, in and out, in and out - your body twitching as pleasure mounted to make you unable to lay still. "Mhm, look so fuckin' pretty like this - spread out, all f'me. Can't get tired of this sight," he moaned, lapping at your wetness.

"Aaron," you begged, gripping the curls at the crown of his head, grinding your hips up to his mouth. "Oh, God, yes, yes," you encouraged, breathing turning sharp and shrill. For a moment, you completely forgot where you were and why you were in a safe house; reality melting away when fully enraptured in Tangerine. "There, right there, holy shit," you whimpered when he prodded that one special place of your inner walls.

"Gotcha, love, I gotcha," he mumbled, sucking and flicking his tongue against your pearl as he focused fully on that spongey spot; causing a wave of slick to generate on his tongue. He grunted, bicep flexing as he pumped his digits faster and faster; his other hand laid across your lower belly to hold you in place.

"Shit!" You met a long-awaited crescendo, a little embarrassed by how quick you met your end - having been a few months since you were intimate with anyone.

But my God, none of them compared to Aaron. His body was slick with a light sheen of sweat, his mustache scraping your sensitive bud with his fingers still working against you. You tried to wriggle away, but Tan held you in place, his other hand now holding one of your thighs wide for his benefit. You forgot there were other occupants in the house, moaning and whimpering the longer Aaron lapped at your essence and messily fingered you.

You could've cried from the pleasure, pulling on his curls as a second orgasm washed over you. You, too, were now sweating, stomach knotted and legs beginning to shake slightly; thighs closing around his ears as your muscles contracted.

Tangerine chuckled when he pulled back, taking one more nip at your swollen and sensitive clit; sighing in satisfaction as he looked up at you, evidence of your pleasure smeared around his mouth, chin, and mustache. Cheekily, he wiped around his mouth, sucking his fingers clean while you tried to catch your breath.

"Jesus Christ," you chuckled.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," you grinned, tugging on his curls again to indicate you wanted him back up with you. He didn't waste time to crawl over you, and when in place, you reached for his warm cock to place at your entrance.

"Oi, hang on, gotta rubber - "

"I'm on birth control, we're okay," you rushed. "Unless you're dirty?"

"Nah, love, I don't fuck nobody raw," he smirked, "but there's a first time for everything, huh?" Aaron laughed almost cruelly when he pushed his hips forward and notched his cock's head inside you, pausing a single moment to watch your reaction as he sunk deeper to stretch you out.

Maybe you had been depriving yourself all these years, Tan's cock being a size, length, and girth you've not handled before. Nobody compared, your cunt weeping with joy at finally having a challenge worthwhile; his balls swinging before being trapped between your bodies. He made a noise, a mix of a moan and whimper, readjusting his hold on you so he held one thigh and the other was supporting his weight by your head.

Your hand laid on his waist, the other around his neck; eyes locked in a passionate connection when he began moving. Your mouth opened in shock, huffing for air, unable to look away - blue eyes pinning you in place. His mouth descending onto yours, rolling his hips to create friction; cock head prodding your gummy walls as the muscles in his back and shoulders flexed with each movement. You lifted a hand to hold his cheek, tongues swirling around one another, Aaron increasing his pace a fraction.

Your nails dug into his flesh, leaving trails of raised, red scratches in their wake - yet it was as if he didn't even notice. "Know I love you, yeah?" Aaron whispered, veins in his neck protruding; heart hammering.

"Yeah," you nodded, wanting him impossibly closer, "yeah, Aaron, I love you, too, holy shit."

Maybe emotional intimacy turned you on more than you ever realized. He clenched his teeth, both hands pressed onto the mattress to support himself as he started to thrust faster. "Not gonna last, love, not with the way you're squeezin' me," he warned, a few stray curls falling over his forehead, his golden medallion swinging and knocking gently against your chin. "Jesus, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he rambled, "like you were fuckin' made for me - Goddamnit."

"We're idiots for waiting so long," you moaned.

"Won't ever be that stupid again," he laughed gently, looking down between you to watch himself disappear and reappear in and out of you; coated in your slick, veins of his cock now throbbing as he felt the familiar coil begin to tighten.

His thumb pressed to your clit and rubbed, your moans getting louder and longer; own hands groping your breasts and tweaking your nipples to add to the sensations Tangerine provided. "Baby," you whined, "'M close - "

"Get there, love, c'mon," he begged, "can't hold back - wanted this f'so long, fuck!" One hand slapped his away to let you control your clit, Tangerine grinning, "Naughty girl. Shit, that's a sight, innit?"

"Don't stop!"

Aaron growled, pinching his brows in concentration as he snapped his hips, the sounds of his balls slapping against you clapping around the room; mingling with your moans, groans, whimpers, and the thick smell of sex that hung in the air. "Feels so fuckin' good," he mumbled, straining himself to resist. "Tight and warm, Jesus fuck, my love, you're perfect - so fucking perfect - Goddamnit."

"There, there, there," you chanted, rubbing your clit vigorously while Aaron dissolved his restrain to hammer into your core with sloppy movements. "Yes, oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes! Please, Aaron, yes, right there, baby, please - don't stop!"

"Fuckin' cum for me, c'mon, love, let it go," he growled, teeth scraping over your collarbone before latching in a gentle bite on your shoulder. "That's it, there it is," Aaron moaned, feeling the restrictive flutter of your cunt, "good girl, good fuckin' girl, that's it."

Your mind went blank, unable to process anything other than Aaron's cock still hammering into you at a brutal pace; the entire bed creaking and rattling against the wall. You whimpered, lips parting when he didn't stop, encouraging, "Need you t'cum, baby, please. Wanna feel you in me - want your cum, fucking need it. C'mon, Aaron, c'mon, love, finish in me - fucking fill me, please, I need it."

"Yeah? Need it?" He grunted, cheeks flushing.

"So bad, need your cum so bad!"

He grit his teeth, humping all the faster before the warmth of your cavern became too much. "Shit!" Tangerine shouted, taking two more rolling thrusts before fully sheathing himself in you as rope of sticky, thick cum painted your inner walls. "Oh, holy hell," he panted, keeping himself still but his arms trembling to support himself as he pulled back only slightly. "All right?" He checked, glancing to where you two were conjoined. "You good?"

"Perfect," you nodded, petting up and down his sides as if entranced and in disbelief this happened. He felt so soft all of a sudden, a stark contrast to his stoic and aggressive personality. "You all right?"

He grunted and retracted his hips, cock springing free to let him crash on the bed beside you; both your lungs working in tandem to attempt to even out. "Absolutely, so fuckin' good," he told you, both staring at the ceiling for a moment before his head turned to look at you. He grinned slyly, chuckling, "That really happened?"

"Think so."

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," he mused. "Stay put a second, love," he whispered, standing from the bed to venture into the bathroom. After a moment, he returned with a warm and damp washcloth, helping you clean up the cum leaking from your cunt; wiping away the messiness. He cleaned himself as well, you crawling under the covers of the bed - not bothering to redress.

When Tan joined you again, he snuggled into the sheets and opened his arm to welcome you into his side. It was weird, you usually hated sleeping with anyone, finding it too hot and restrictive, but laying there with Tangerine, you felt incredibly at peace.

"You know Constance isn't gonna be here for a couple days," you mentioned casually.

"Uh-huh."

"Think I just found our past time."

"Oh, darlin'," Tangerine chuckled, "we're not leavin' this bed."

"We'll have to eat."

"Least that Ladybug twat can do is bring us our food, eh?"

But you paused to consider something, laid on his chest and idly tracing the scars on his beefy chest. "Hey, Aaron?" You whispered.

"Hmm? What is it, love?"

"What's gonna happen when we leave here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, here, in Japan, we're together... But when we go home t'London, back to reality, what's gonna happen?"

"What? You mean, with us?"

"Yeah."

He snickered, "Why would anything change, love? I'm not just in love with you, here, in Japan, but everywhere - wholeheartedly. So, when we go back, we make this work. No matter what it takes."

"Really?"

Aaron grinned, "'Course, love. Went four long years without even seein' yah, I have no plans t'let you go again - not so soon, not ever." He stretched and tucked his free arm behind his head, "You're stuck with me, doll. That all right with you?"

You grinned up at him, "Perfect by me."

His lips found yours again, starting a very noisy night that made both Lemon and Ladybug clamp pillows over their ears.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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prettyboyjohnny · 2 months

Text

JOHNNY VOICE LINE TRANSCRIPT 🥩

I wrote these out a long time ago but never posted them anywhere! Based on [x].

>Nancy's voicelines<

Notes:

• I could've copied the game subtitles, but I didn't 'cause they suck.

• I haven't played enough Johnny to know where some of these lines start and end. Please let me know if I've made any mistakes in that regard!

• I was gonna include tone indicators, but tone is subjective. No one wants me to mark the Feed Grandpa voice lines as "Flirty."

Thanks!

VOICELINES

Encounter Start

Now look at this! Somebody's ready to fight!

This is gonna end... Very badly for you.

Yeah-ha-ha! Oh, that's it! Hit me...

Imma gut every single one of y'all! [Inhales, laughs under breath] Come on... Come on!

Exit interaction

Nobody leaves until I say so!

Ain't nobody leavin' just yet!

Got it.

Nobody's leavin' alive! Y'all not fast enough! ... Good try, though.

Feed Grandpa

Get your fill, old man.

It always tastes best when it's fresh, don't it?

Here you go, old man.

You're lookin' better already... Now help us!

Oh, you're thirsty today.

Victim found

HA HA! It's playtime!

Heh heh, it's playtime...

Hahahaha, I always find 'em!

You should know better than that! ... Come on out, now.

Hey there! [Laughs]

Well! Look who we got here! [Laughs]

Hit victim

Oh! Now I got ya!

Yeah! Take it! Take it!

It's better if you die right quick! Trust me!

This would be simpler if you would sit still!

Yeah! You gonna be leakin' after that hit.

Idle

Nobody escapes me.

How the hell did those kids find us? [Sighs] I should've been more careful.

If Grandpa was able, this would be over by now... I better go feed him.

Damn it, Johnny... Get your head straight! Come on, now!

I gotta fix this... Now!

Cook seen

I'd watch that tongue of yours, old man... It might go missin' one day.

I thought you knew how to run this household... THIS is a mess!

Damn it, old man! Put those ears of yours to use already!

Where are they?! How the hell did they get loose?! I can't fix this by myself, old man.

Stop barkin' orders at me! You ain't gonna like the results.

Hitchhiker seen

Surround the property with some of those traps already! This is getting outta hand fast!

You're one shifty little sumbitch... I'll give you that. [Laughs]

How you make those weird ass traps of yours, anyway?

Would you. Settle. The Hell. Down already. You're scattering all over the dang place. We gotta focus!

Grandpa is gonna tan our hides if we let them get away. Spread out!

Leatherface seen

That's it, boy... Go kill someone now.

Go on, put that saw to use, big boy! What're you waitin' on?

If I were you, I'd go and check out Grandpa. We're gonna need his help!

Let's go now, boy! Grandpa ain't gonna be too pleased if you let them escape.

Just get outta my way, boy... I'll show you how real killin's done.

Sissy seen

Are you gonna help me out, or just stand there lookin' pretty?

If it ain't askin' too much, before you go and run off again, would you mind helpin' me out?

Before you go runnin' off with those back-house hippies again... Can you PLEASE find these damn kids?!

Sissy, what the hell're you waitin' on? Get to it!

Sissy... Are you even listenin' to me? What's goin' on in that head of yours?! Damn!

Lose enemy first

Aww, you leavin' so soon?

It's alright, big boy's gonna be wearing your face soon enough... After I'm done with you, that is. [Laughs]

You know... I was actually kinda fond of that girl, I-I didn't really wanna hurt 'er... But, as they say... Family first, y'know?

You ever watch someone die? Oh... You ain't never quite the same after that, lemme tell ya.

Ohohoh, you can run all you want... It ain't gonna matter much longer.

Lose enemy sub

[Scoffs] You're all gurgle and no guts! I thought you were tougher than that!

I'm gonna find you... I will! I promise!

You wanna know how your friend died? I can show you!

L-Listen now! E-Everybody's time comes eventually!

The bad man's in me... And you gonna meet 'im real soon!

Lose enemy long

Your little friend put up a better fight than this... Come on... Make it interesting, will ya?!

They always try to hide... It's always the same game... [Laughs]

You folks don't know who you messin' with! Nobody ever gets away from me.

You're just delayin' the inevitable! YOU HEAR ME?

Come on out now, let's play.

I got plenty of space in the cold room for you.

Match start

It's time. [Chuckles] Seems they've got some fight in 'em after all.

I knew I should've handled this myself... I'll fix it.

That's what I get for taking it easy on them. Time for them to join that little friend of theirs.

See blood trail

Oh, this is gonna be easy.

Hey, you okay? You seem to have lost a bit of blood!

Now... let's see where you scurried off to.

You know... Bleedin' like that ain't gonna help your cause!

Don't bleed out on me yet! I need you awake!

See enemy first

Don't worry. I like it when they run.

Look, you're gonna want this to end fast. Trust me on that.

Well, don't run! I just wanna see how it feels.

There you are! [Chuckles] You kinda remind me of your little friend.

See enemy sub

This is pointless, you know. Quit stallin'.

Don't worry... I'll find ya.

[Growls] I'm gonna see your insides before this night's through!

Oh, you ain't gettin' away! I'm keepin' you.

Come on back, now.

Got something I wanna show you! [Laugh]

See family member

Well! Look who decided to lend a hand!

Check the doors and generator. We can't let them leave. You hear me?

Y'all need to start pullin' your weight around here. This is gettin' old!

Grandpa's gonna be in a fit if we let them escape. Start searchin'!

Would y'all... Help me already. PLEASE!

See trapped victim

We gotcha! [Laughs]

You ready to meet the bad man?

You got one!

Looks like you might be hurtin'. Might wanna be watchin' where you're steppin'.

[Laughs]

See victim escape

Maybe I can still catch 'em. Yeah, down by the tracks.

Damn... They're free... For now.

This isn't gonna be good.

Damn it, Johnny! [Scoffs] ... The old man's gonna be riled up now.

Use ability blocked

Ain't no tracks here...

Nah... got nothin'.

Better wait a minute.

Not quite yet ... [Inhales] Almost ready.

Use ability

Time to play. Now... Where did you go?

I'll find ya. Don't you worry about that.

Go ahead and hide... It ain't gonna matter.

Where'd y'all run off to?

Use ability success

[Hums] ... There you are.

They always leave a trail. Always so careless. [Chuckles, inhales] ... This is too easy.

I'm on your tail now!

Execution

You're gonna look real nice... Next to that friend of yours!

That's it... Die for me!

This... Is only gonna hurt... For a minute!

You should've never came here lookin' for that girl!

You ain't gettin' away! I'm keepin' you!

[Last edited March 2024]

#It's about making things accessible okay? Everyone benefits from having things available to them in more than one format/medium.#johnny slaughter #tcm game #txchainsawgame #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #johnny sawyer #transcript #subjectspeaks #greedy #queue #I also wrote out Sissy and Nancys but thats for another time

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mukbangg · 4 months

Note

Billy and an ex-outlaw reader who has a bit of ptsd? If you’re still in the market for prompts :)

Omg I have so many of yalls prompts writings in progress....trynna write between school and work. Nonnie, iiiii dk if this is written right might make part 2.

(Me writing during work: you write porn w the same hands you serve coffee ?)

Jesse and his boys were old acquaintances of yours.

Though you never did ride with them, you've crossed paths with their lot quite a few times. What started out as a rivalry had turned into more like friendly competition before you had earned their respect by saving their asses more times you can count.

But when your crimes had caught up to you, resulting in much bloodshed involving your family back at home well...you werent eager to get back in business.

Fact is, you've left your past behind and settled down a little way off a lone town, behind a beautiful spread of a meadow.

A cozy barn, small and snug.

Just like your momma had always wanted.

So when a familiar group of cowboys come trotting through the meadow....let's say you werent all that pleased.

"Jesse,"

You tip your hat at the blonde astride his horse.

"Boys,"

"Well, look who's alive,"

He laughed, swinging off his horse and sweeping you into a crushing hug. You softened with a sigh, patting him on the back.

When you'd decided to settle, he'd kicked up such a fuss, mad that you decided to leave in your prime.

You were like the gang's little sister, or maybe an annoying cousin that swings by every now and then.

"Here lemme introduce you to-"

"Billy,"

You were suddenly aware of the towering fella who had emerged abruptly from the group. Dark curls peeking out from his hat, broad shoulders and a rugged air to him, he was a handsome one. But what takes the cake was his piercing blue eyes, fixed unwaveringly on you.

It would be intimidating if not for how subtly they raked over your body.

"Eyes up here cowboy,"

You mutter to the man lowly, gripping his outstretched hand in a firm shake.

"Replaced me so soon, jesse?"

You turn back to the blonde, raising a brow at him.

"Well doll, Billy heres quite the gunslinger, maybe even better than ya,"

You swat playfully at his chest, a round of laughter rising from the group. Jesse chuckles, before he shrugs, kicking at the ground. You know that look.

"So my boys and I need to lay low for awhile and well..."

He raised his brows at you, a sliver of a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Hell no, jesse, you know I'm out,"

You huffed, shaking your head firmly. Annoyance rises like a whip in your chest, you alway were quick to temper.

"You know that, after what happened...."

"Aw c'mon, just a couple o' weeks? We promise we wont bring you no trouble, we'll even help out-"

You held up a finger, trying hard to maintain your stern facade.

"I cant risk it, such a large group of men, oh I swear to god-"

"Using the lord's name in vain-"

Jesse attempted at a joke before swallowing his words when met with your burning scowl. His group stirs uneasily behind him.

"Just a week?"

Billy's voice rang out. He steps forward, blue eyes pleading as a warm smile crack over his lips. You sighed, ready to turn down his offer.

"Towns people talk, what if they see y-"

"We'll do chores, we'll earn our keep, surely you can use the rest, miss? It's a big place to take care of,"

Now that, was tempting. Your barns not huge but you're only one person, and the day passes quick when you busy about with the chores. And to add on, a group of men you trust does put your worries at ease.

Living away from town always had the threat of robberies and whatnot, especially for a lone girl like yourself. You've hidden pistols everywhere in the house, one slung around your hip, though you're never sure if you'd be able to pull the trigger on someone when it comes down to it...

What a joke, you used to be one of the most feared outlaw with an aim as true as the sky is blue.

Now you cant even stand the sound of your door slamming.

"Fine,"

You finally relented, clicking your tongue with a jerk of your head to allow the group to flood into your house.

They cheered and hollered, Jesse and slapping Billy on the back before heading in.

"G'job butterin' her up Billy boy!"

"Y'better believe I'll be working the lot of you to your bones!"

You huffed after him, before turning back to Billy.

"And you! I swear t'God if any of yall give me trouble I'm coming for you first!"

He leans close, tipping his hat at you with a smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

"Your wish is my command, pretty,"

Billy brushes past, leaving you all flustered and red in the cheeks , with a looming dread that you've got more than a few rowdy cowboys to worry about.

What did your momma used to say?

Butterflies in your damn stomach.

(Haiii I'm lowkey bad at story stuff might make a part 2...? If yall want? Gimme some ideas what you wanna see in part 2 if you want)

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andysorbit · 11 months

Text

Praise & Worship Pt. 1 (M)

Churchboy!Doyoung/Camboy!Doyoung x Churchgirl!reader

Warnings: soft dom!Doie, corruption, unprotected sex (be smart), guided masturbation, overstimulation, dirty talk, big dick Doie agenda ayyyeee, slight angst, phone sex, daddy kink, fingering, squirting, spitting (I'm a spit slut leave me alone)

Word count: 4.8k

Now, this is a black church ya'll. This aint your memaw Doris' church nah sir we bumpin' them ol' negro spirituals

Thank you to @brownsugarbaybee for making me these really cool banners. Kari, your username inspired the username in this fic :,)

I also would like to thank @multifandomslxt, @calibabii21, @agust-june for being my number one churchboy!Doie enablers.

Doyoung's Playlist (because why tf not??)

The Battle is the Lord's - Yolanda Adams

I Won't Complain - Rev. Alyn E. Waller

My Redeemer - Nicole C. Mullen

Mary, Don't You Weep - Aretha Franklin

I Love the Lord - Whitney Houston

DaddyDoie's Playlist

Brown Skin - India.Arie

Untitled (How Does it Feel) - D'Angelo

Til the Cops Come Knockin' - Maxwell

TiO - Zayn

Sweetest Taboo - Sade

praise

/prāz/

verb

To express warm approval or admiration of.

worship

/ˈwərSHəp/

verb

To show reverence and adoration for.

Church is going swimmingly as it always does and you're happy to be seated in the sanctuary.

You, being an eager early bird, found your way to your seat in the front as you always do. Being the first daughter of the church is no easy feat but you love it and you love coming to give thanks to your Lord and Savior.

Adult life isn't always kind to you but you still come, rain or shine, to give honor.

Doyoung's been coming to this church since you were both eleven. His parents almost joined but they said your church was "a bit loud". That was okay. The black church experience isn't meant for everyone.

Doyoung, on the other hand, had stars in his eyes and with his parents' consent, he joined that very day; even signing up for the ministry van to come and pick him up.

Doyoung began singing in church a year after joining and he's loved it since the start. Starting off in the choir and working his way up to doing solos.

You two have grown close over the years and you've both grown up to be fine examples of how anyone can flourish when they stand in the love and dignity of the church of God.

Doyoung chose to sing The Battle is the Lord's this Sunday and as usual, he kills it.

Your father's sermon is about temperance and he preaches with his usual flair as he always does.

"Now we men know how it is when you see a beautiful woman! We know! We get a lil... 'ooooh she's a fine lookin' woman!' We get all beside ourselves sometimes! Same thing for you ladies! It's human nature, y'know. God didn't give you a single thing by accident. Ain't no sin in how you feel but it's what you do with those feelings!" he says; stopping for a minute to wipe his brow with his handkerchief.

The congregation agrees with hoots and hollers and old women fan themselves. You feel alive.

"The thing is that you can't just give yourself to everyone. Fall in love first! I tell these young kids all the time! You may think it's no big deal but it is! It's difficult to resist while you're in the thick of it but you'll be glad you stuck to the word of God and waited!"

Your eyes wander over to the the choir and you seek out Doyoung. His suit is crisp as usual and he looks amazing. His eyes meet yours and he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Like my man Doie for example! Fine ladies man, right? Of course but he's waiting for his wife. He's not paying you girls no mind because he knows the Lord is paving the pathway for his wife... hopefully my daughter- no lemme stop- but who knows? I don't! Hallelujah!"

Doyoung drops his face into his hand and laughs then looks back over at you and gives you a playful frown. You roll your eyes.

"And I know my baby likes him because everytime I mention him, she just gets that look on her face- look at her ya'll! Then those eyes get to rollin' and she just- that's my son-in-law, y’all! Hallelujah!"

"Daddy, would you stop?" You say and wave your hand at him.

Doyoung smiles at you and rolls his eyes.

When service ends, you find your dad, "You better leave me alone, old man," You say with a smile.

You father laughs and touches your face, "I don't speak on things unless I'm sure about it," he shoots back.

He's being pulled away for prayer and you greet everyone as your eyes search for Doyoung.

He finds you, as he always does, and with a warm embrace he asks you, "Did I give you chills?"

You reply, same as always, "I'm still freezing," You reply.

You pull back to look at him and he returns your smile, "You're coming back to Sister Martha's for lunch?" You ask.

"Of course I am. I'm gonna stop by and see mom and dad first but yeah. I'm coming," he says.

Mother Annie, whose mind is going, comes up to take your hand and Doyoung's, "How's my babies?" she asks.

"Oh, we're great! How are you feeling?" You say with a smile.

"I'm doing fine as always. Doie, you need a ride home, baby?" she says.

Doyoung smiles, "Oh, Mother Annie, you won't believe it but I learned how to drive! I have my own car and everything!" he says as he smiles but you see the sadness in his eyes. Everyone loves Mother Annie and it's sad to see her forgetting so much.

"Oh Jesus, I'm gettin' old," she sighs.

"But you're still a beauty," he chuckles.

She hugs him tightly then she hugs you, "He'd make a fine husband," she says as she shuffles off.

Doyoung gives you smirk, "She's not wrong," he says teasingly.

"I wouldn't know," You say sassily as you look him up and down.

Doyoung is an everybody kind of guy. Everybody loves him and everyone wants to be his wife or his in-law. He was a bit shy when he first started coming but he's grown into himself in many ways.

Your day eases by nicely and lunch is a fun gathering as it always is. Good food, good chats, and good prayers. Sister Joyce bakes a Louisiana crunch cake and as usual, threatens to spank Doyoung if he comes back for a third piece.

All is good and easy.

The week eases by and Saturday night rolls around like clockwork. You take your time preparing your clothes for church and then make a pitcher of peach iced tea that you plan on dropping off at Mother Annie's house before church in the morning.

You unwind after a nice bubble bath and dress in an oversized t-shirt and those feelings of yours bubble back up. Feelings of imagining what Doyoung's body would feel like against yours, of what it really feels like to be ravished.

Sometimes, there's a look in his eyes that you can't place and it's led you to believe that there may be a side to Doyoung that you've never seen and it gives you chills more intense than the ones he gives you in church.

On impulse, you ordered a pink dildo online a few weeks ago but your guilt is why you never even opened the packaging but tonight, your curiosity gets the best of you.

You look at it then put it back in the box.

It's a step.

You roll the idea of using it around in your head before firing up your laptop.

You started off with good intentions.

Really.

A simple Google search:

Is it a sin to masturbate?

Clicking between Christianity.com, GotQuestions.org, and reading answers and Bible verses on NeverThirsty.org for so long that you begin to wonder why the hell you should even possibly care anymore because it's all a mixture of yeses and noes.

Then comes the twist that makes you groan in defeat. The matter of lust. Can you even masturbate without lusting after someone?

You close the tabs and search for porn sites for something to watch. It's all anticlimactic. You expected more but... this is all a bit much.

A pop-up catches your eye:

DaddyDoie is live! Sign up to say hi now!

"Doie? Oh please," You scoff but you sign up and your username is BrownSugarPrincess. Is it stupid? Yes. 100% but you didn't sign up to seduce anyone or to attract any lascivious attention to yourself. You signed up because there's no way that's your Doie.

You confirm your account and you're redirected back to the livestream.

You shriek.

It is Doyoung.

Or maybe it's not. You can't see his face and the camera cuts off just at his neck and Doyoung definitely has a necklace exactly like that and those shoulders... there's no way that's Doyoung...

But it really could be...

You lean in closer to your laptop and take in his naked body with little regard to your previous research on where your soul will end up after doing a thing like this.

You slap your free hand over your mouth when he sighs, "BrownSugarPrincess. Cute name... You're my thousandth subscriber, sweetheart, so.. you've won yourself a surprise," he says softly as he strokes himself a little faster.

You'd recognize that soft, honey voice anywhere.

"Oh my God," You whisper

You watch his hand fist his cock and you're frozen; anchored in place by the sex dripping from his voice.

"I'Il send you a DM and you can tell me when you're available to claim your prize," he says slowly.

You type your reply:

BrownSugarPrincess: oh wow that's pretty cool... thank you but maybe give it to the next person? I don't think I should...

Doyoung chuckles devilishly, "Such a polite girl. It's okay, we'll talk after. I think I could change your mind."

You want to close the tab and toss your laptop across the room but you can't. His cross necklace sits so nicely around his neck and the fact that he's even still wearing it is obscenely attractive.

"God... please," You whisper. You're unsure of what you need God to do for you because more than the willpower to put your laptop away, you want Doyoung inside of you.

"I know what you want," Doyoung chuckles as his hand slows down. He's a tease.

Your hand is in your panties before you realize it and you softly touch your clit as you abandon all of your morals from earlier.

Doyoung stops stroking himself and lets his cock smack against his stomach with a heavy flop.

"Oh... oh my God," You pant as you stroke yourself a little faster.

You admire his girth and wonder for a moment how long it would take you to stretch around his cock.

He's fucking huge.

He gently runs his thumb over his throbbing tip and spreads his precum so slowly that you whine.

"Get a good look at it, baby," he sighs, "Do you think you could take all of this? How much do you think you could fit in your mouth before you start gagging on it?"

The comments are flooding in and you don't read a single one of them because how could anyone focus on typing with this indescribable being on their screen?

He chuckles as he wraps his hand around his cock once more, "You've been very quiet BrownSugarPrincess... or maybe I can just call you Princess? I bet you have the prettiest brown skin, sweetheart... I know why you're not saying anything... I know you're touching that pretty little pussy."

You buck your hips and the sound of his voice alone is enough to send you over the edge but you fight it off because you don't want this to end.

"I know you're soaking wet for daddy... In your bed with your hands between your beautiful thighs... stroking that soft, warm cunt... I know you're wishing I was there to stretch you out and fuck you like you're all mine... yeah, Princess... Daddy wants you to touch that pussy. Do that for me, baby."

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip and your fingers speed up, "Oh... fuck, fuck... fuck... fuck," You pant and you're so close and he knows it. He knows what he's doing.

He strokes himself faster and you match his pace. The moans that fall from his mouth are the most delicious sounds you've ever heard and wishing that you could feel them against your mouth, you lose the battle.

Your body trembles as you cum and soon his cum is shooting up his stomach and covering the back of his hand. His moans, slow and velvety, dance into your ears and soak your pussy even more. It's so much- too much and you could cry.

"That was so good, wasn't it?" he sighs breathlessly.

You nod and of course he can't see you but you nod anyway because he has you stuck on stupid.

"Okay... well... that's all for tonight. Thank you for coming... Princess, I'm gonna clean up and then l'll be talking to you," he says and ends the live.

You get up and clean yourself up too. The guilt kicks in as you step into the shower and you scrub your body so harshly that you think just maybe you've washed the sins off of you.

"God... please... forgive me. I'm so sorry. l'm so, so, so, sorry. God, cleanse me. Help me, Lord," You whisper over and over as you rinse the soap off of your body.

It doesn't feel like your soul is any purer but your skin is a little sore and that's a feeling that can distract you from the guilt in your chest.

You towel off once you're done and go back to your bedroom. You reluctantly check the site's notifications and you yelp.

DaddyDoie: Hello, Princess

It was sent five minutes ago.

You tap a reply; too eagerly.

BrownSugarPrincess: Hello

DaddyDoie: How are you this evening?

BrownSugarPrincess: I'm doing fine. How are you?

DaddyDoie: I'm great. Thanks for asking. How'd you find my livestream?

BrownSugarPrincess: I was kinda just looking around I guess. I tried watching porn but I didn't really find anything that was helping.

DaddyDoie: So you needed more and that's what sent you my way. That's cute. Really cute.

BrownSugarPrincess: So what's the surprise?

DaddyDoie: Well, you have two choices. A video call or a voice call.

BrownSugarPrincess: Um... maybe a voice call? I probably shouldn't though do it though.

DaddyDoie: And why is that?

BrownSugarPrincess: It's a lot to explain I think...

DaddyDoie: Maybe I should call you then. You won't have to type it all out if we just talk.

BrownSugarPrincess: Ok

Your reply sinks in and you panic but you don't have much time to wallow in it because the voice call prompt on the site pops up. You quickly grab your headphones from your nightstand and turn them on. You slip them on and answer,

You pick up, "Hi," You say softly.

"Hello, Princess," he says and there's no way this isn't Doyoung, "What's this conflict that's got you so stressed out, hm?"

"Well... I'm religious and... this is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Well... Princess, I'm probably not the best at steering people down a good path versus a bad one but... what do you want to do right now?"

"I don't know what I want."

"Oh, I don't believe that, Princess... I think you know exactly what you want but the problem is that what you want doesn't line up with what you believe is right."

You fall silent.

He chuckles, "How about this... how about you tell me what you're wearing and we can take this very slowly and if you want, you can stop me at any point,"

"O-okay... I'm... I'm wearing a towel. I just got out of the shower," You reply nervously.

"You tried to wash the sins off of that pretty body, didn't you, Princess?"

"Uh huh."

"So cute... how about you take that towel off and lay in your bed for me?"

You quickly remove your towel and toss it aside before getting into bed, "I'm uh... I'm in bed," You say shyly.

"And you're naked?"

"Y- yes."

"Say it. Tell me that you're in bed and you're naked."

You shiver, "I'm... in bed and... I'm... I'm naked."

"Good girl," he hums, "Now... I want you to touch yourself. Nice and slowly, baby, touch your pussy for me."

You hand glides down between your legs and dip past your folds, "Oh," You gasp as your fingers slowly tease your clit.

"Are you wet for me, Princess?" he asks softly. His voice shoots through your body like lightning.

"I'm so wet... so wet," You whine as your fingers move faster.

"Oh no you don't... you need to slow it down, sweetheart. You're not gonna cum until I tell you to," he says softly. You can tell he's smiling. You can always hear it in his voice.

You slow down reluctantly and whine, "Please," You beg.

"Here's what you're gonna do... I want you to take your other hand and slide two fingers inside that pretty cunt. Do that for me, baby," he tells you. His voice alone is too much and you gasp when he moans softly.

You do. Two fingers slide deep inside and you almost cum.

"I- I... oh... God... daddy," You whimper.

"That's a good girl. Just like that... fuck yourself with your fingers, baby. Fuck that tight little cunt for your daddy," he sighs.

You ease your fingers in and out of your wetness and the sounds are obscene as you fall deeper and deeper into this pit that his soft moans

"I can hear you fucking yourself, Princess. Daddy can hear you. You're so wet, baby... I hear those fingers moving inside that soaked cunt. I'd love to be there with you so I could taste you, baby, and suck on your clit until you're trembling for me... Would you let me eat that sweet little pussy? Huh, baby?"

You move faster and your body begins to tremble, "Yes... Daddy... please... please," You whine. Your voice is a desperate shrill now and colors swirl behind your eyes as you keep going.

"Chase it, baby. You can do it. It's right there for you. Isn't that right, beautiful?" he purrs.

"Uh huh... u-uh huh... daddy," You whimper.

"It's all yours, sweetheart. Come on," he says and his own voice goes a little higher. His moans shake you somewhere deep within and you wriggle desperately as your orgasm approaches.

Your eyes flutter shut and you whine as you come undone.

"Don't stop yet, baby... curl your fingers up for me," he says softly.

You immediately obey his orders and sigh, "I... I dunno if I'm doing this right."

"You'll know, sweetheart. Just take your time. If I was there with you, I'd show you exactly where to touch yourself. You wouldn't have to do a thing... just lay there and keep those pretty legs open for your daddy... I'd take good care of you... Make you feel so good I'd probably make you cry for me," he drags out as best he can and he sounds so fucking close but you know he's holding out until you find that spot he's talking about.

He was right, you do know the moment you find it because you convulse with a new rush of pleasure that overwhelms you. You press your fingers against that spot deep inside over and over, "Daddy" You mew out weakly.

"Didn't daddy tell you? That's my good girl. Keep going baby. Right there... just like that. Keep doing that," he says. His voice is deep and longing.

Your fingers speed up and you shake violently.

"Daddy!"

This orgasm is so intense that you almost forget how to breathe and you soak your hands, your thighs, and your sheets.

"That's my girl. Such a good girl, Princess. You did such a good job," he praises you breathlessly.

"I... the uh... I soaked my bed. Oh my God... I soaked my bed," You pant mindlessly and you don't even know how you're talking because it's as if you have no control over your mouth or really any other part of your body.

"Did you squirt?" he asks with a low chuckle.

"That's what it's called? I thought I pissed myself."

"No, baby. That isn't what happened at all... Was it that good?"

"Yes."

"Did I give you chills?"

Your blood runs cold, "Uh huh..." You croak.

A silence falls over the both of you for a moment.

"I um... I should go clean up," You say softly.

"I should too," he chuckles.

"Thank you," You say.

"Of course. Good night, sweetheart," he says with a soft laugh.

His voice could send you into another frenzy.

"G- good night," You say.

You end the call and slam your laptop shut, "Oh my God."

You pull off your headphones and stand up.

What a night.

Morning comes around too quickly and between your restless sleep and your general nerves about seeing Doyoung, for the first time ever, you're late for church.

Sadly, there's nowhere to hide. Your empty seat in the front row is like a stage as you quietly take your seat.

Impulsively, your eyes seek out Doyoung and there he is with his perfect posture and his teased back hair, watching you with an amused smirk. You give him a tight smile.

You don't hang on to a word your father says and save for the date scrawled sloppily at the top of your notebook, the page is blank.

Your mind replays the night before over and over. The darkness in his voice, the way he sounded as he came, the curiosity of how his cock would feel inside you; it haunts you and excites you.

You close your eyes and whisper a prayer but it's no use. Behind closed eyes, all you see is his naked body, the cross that hung lewdly against his bare chest, the cum that painted his stomach. Your eyes shoot open and Doyoung's staring at you.

"Are you okay?" he mouths.

You nod quickly and drop your head down. To look at him is to set you back from the inch of progress you've made since your last impure daydream and the knowing look in his eyes is far too much- prolonged eye contact will turn this jovial church service into your funeral.

You don't realize church is ending until your mother nudges you to stand for prayer.

As your father closes out with prayer, you look over at Doyoung who's looking right at you.

"Close your eyes," he mouths to you and you quickly obey.

When church ends your mother takes your hand, "Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yes, mama. I just didn't get enough rest last night. I'm sorry," You ramble.

"You missed my joke this morning but that's your loss," your father says as he greets you with a hug.

Like clockwork, Doyoung finds you and after warm greetings from your parents, he turns to circle his arms around you, "You must've had some night," he laughs.

"Oh uh... not really. Just had a restless sleep. Not much else," You ramble.

Doyoung is highly amused, "Oh, I'm sure, Squirtle," he laughs.

"What's that supposed to mean? What's so funny?" You ask nervously.

"Come with me, Y/n," Doyoung sighs as he leads you through the crowd. You both greet people as you go.

Mother Annie stops you both, "Hi, babies. How are you both today?" she asks as she kisses your cheek and then Doyoung's.

"We're good, Mother Annie. How are you today?" Doyoung asks.

"I'm fine, baby. Do you need a ride home?" She asks.

Doyoung's smile falters for only a second, "Well I was looking forward to seeing you so I could tell you that I have a car now!"

"Oh, you do? Now you can drive me to church!" she says with a laugh.

"Of course! You know I love you," he says sweetly.

"And I love you, baby, but you better practice that driving first. I ain't been in a car accident in a long time and I don't plan on getting into one with you," she laughs.

"Oh for sure," Doyoung chuckles.

She kisses you both again and goes on her way.

Doyoung takes you outside into the cool spring air, "Your skirt is on backwards," he says as he hooks his finger into your skirt and swiftly turns it around the right way.

"Oh... thank you," You say sheepishly.

"Look at me," he tells you softly.

You look at him and he leans in closer to you.

"Doyoung, I-"

"It's okay. You're overthinking this too much. Just let it be," he tells you softly.

"How can I? I feel awful," You say as you shake your head.

"You didn't feel bad while it was happening. In that moment, it was just us. You know I'm gonna marry you anyway so why are you so worried about it?"

Doyoung reaches out to touch your face and you lean into his hand.

"Because we're not married and... that's why it's wrong. You know that," You say, "We're not even dating."

Doyoung smiles a very smug smile, "Well, I thought we were... all those dinner dates and movie nights and staying up all night on the phone talking or just listening to each other breathe... excuse me."

"I'm sorry that was... I shouldn't have said that," You mumble.

"No, it's a good thing you did because we did sort of fall into it but we never said it and maybe that's something you needed to hear," he says.

The quiet is disrupted by the church doors opening. Everyone comes out chattering and you let the crowd separate you both.

It's a cowardly thing to do but you don't know what else to do.

When you get home, you undress and take a warm shower. The urge to wash away your thoughts is rampant and in the past twenty-four hours, if you showered every time you felt this way, you'd have no skin left and you'd never leave the shower.

You curl up on your sofa and sit in your own discomfort as you whisper prayers of forgiveness.

Doyoung lets himself in holding plates wrapped in foil and you can tell he's a little annoyed, "I figured you'd be here... Your mom said if you leave like that again, she's coming over with your dad's belt and I might tag along with my own belt but anyway... I have food and Sister Katherine made a cheesecake so come on," he says as he kicks his shoes off and makes his way to the kitchen.

You don't move from your spot on the sofa and he comes back out to hang his blazer on your coatrack by the front door.

"Come on, Y/n, get up. Let's go. If your morning went as badly as I think it did, you didn't even have breakfast so move it," he says as he loosens his tie.

Your ruthless thoughts are back and you imagine him tying your hands behind your back.

You shake your head, "You should go, Doyoung. I'm fine... I just need to be alone," You mumble.

Doyoung takes his tie off and hangs it with his blazer, "There's not a single thought you could have about me that I'd take offense to, Squirtle," he says and rolls his sleeves up.

There go the thoughts again. This time you imagine him forcing you to your knees and tracing the head of his cock across your lips.

"Doyoung, please," You sigh.

"I'm not leaving until you eat something. Besides, I've know you for... sixteen years now? Since we've known each other, we've never missed a Sunday lunch together. Just because you wanna be a butt head doesn't mean we have to break our tradition. You don't have look at me or even talk to me but you're gonna get your butt in that kitchen and you're gonna eat something," Doyoung stands over you and crosses his arms.

"Okay... fine," You say as you get up.

You both go into the kitchen and you sit down at your tiny table.

Doyoung washes his hands and removes the foil from your plate, "I got you a little bit of everything," he says and gets it going in the microwave.

You can't help but smile, "Thank you, Doie," You say softly.

He turns and smiles at you, "Y/n, you know this is no big deal, right? I mean any of this," he says as he shakes his head.

"Why did you start doing it?" You ask

Doyoung bites into a hush puppy, "I needed the money," he says casually.

"Doyoung, my dad said if you needed help to just ask," You chide.

Doyoung shakes his head, "Y/n, your dad is a great man but you don't think if I'm dipping into his wallet, it's not gonna change his idea of me? He wants me to marry you probably more than you and I want each other combined and I'd like to keep it that way. I don't plan to do this forever. It's just until I get a promotion at work and if you tell me right now that you don't want me to do this anymore, I'll find a different way to get by until then but I'm not asking your father for a dime."

The microwave beeps and Doyoung gets your plate out. He brings it over to you then puts his own plate in the microwave.

"But why? Like... I don't understand," You say quietly.

You watch him retrieve a fork from your silverware drawer and he crosses the kitchen to hand it to you, "It was the fastest and easiest solution to my problems. Between the bills and just living, it got to be too much and the student loans don't help and since I'm still paying those off, I was a bit over my head and... I know it was a bad choice to make but I was praying and nothing was happening and I crunched some numbers and the alternative was to either stop paying two bills or stop taking you out so I did what I had to do. Besides... it's twice a week for a little less than an hour and it was the only way I could still come to church and spend time with you when I want," he shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs again.

"Doie... oh my God," You sigh, "I could've helped out or we could've gone dutch at the very least."

"Oh, God forbid. It'll be a cold day in hell before I do something like that- what kind of a man do you take me for? he scoffs.

One thing about Doyoung is that some of the old-fashioned values that the elders of the church live by have stuck with him:

Never ask a woman for money.

Never drop a woman off and drive off before she lets you know she's on the other side of her door.

Never ever let a woman you're spending time with pay for anything- even if she invited you out.

The first time you ever offered to treat him to lunch, he all but fainted.

The microwave beeps again and he takes his plate put. You watch him bring it to the table then he gets two Mason jars from a cupboard.

"I made peach iced tea last night," You say, "It was for Mother Annie but I forgot it."

Doyoung laughs as he gets the pitcher from the refrigerator, "I really ruined your morning, didn't I?"

You nod as you pile a forkful of macaroni and cheese into your mouth.

Doyoung fills your glass and then sits down to fill his own. After placing the pitcher down, he reaches across the table and holds his hands out to you.

You stare at his hands and imagine them gliding over his body then over your own, "You didn't say grace," he chides.

"Oh... sorry," You murmur and set your fork down to take his hands.

"Dear Lord, thank you for this meal and thank you for the love that went into everything. Thank you for today and give Y/n a little extra love... she needs it," he says with a smile, "In Jesus' name... amen."

"Amen," You say and smile back at him.

Clearing the air is good and although it doesn't change the longing you feel for him, it makes lunch a hell of a lot easier for you.

"It's not a crime to let me take care of you sometimes. If you need to do what you have to do for now, I won't stop you but I could help... I could send tips an-"

"Anything you send me, I'm gonna take all of it- down to the very last penny and I'm gonna donate it to the church. Do you really want money you sent me for jerking off in front of a camera funding the children's outreach program? Huh, Squirtle?"

"Well, geez, Doie. When you put it like that... ugh fine. You're impossible," You huff.

"Well then don't," he says firmly.

You both eat in silence but the air thickens as your curiosity becomes more unbearable.

"Y/n, if you have another question, just ask me. It's okay,"

"How long have you been doing this?" You immediately ask.

"Two years... eight months and fourteen days," he replies.

"Do you like doing it?"

"Not really... I'm good at it though which... excuse my language is... kinda fucked up."

"You were always this good or... did you have to work up to how good you are now?"

"I used to be nervous but... I started pretending that I was just doing it for you... like you were the only person watching and it got easier... Just so you know, I've never even thought about touching another woman. You're the first person I've ever even gone that far with," he says with a sheepish smile.

"Oh?" You say perk up.

Doyoung nods, "I uh... I watched a few people and I did some research and stuff... that's how it's gotten to this point... how I got to get you off like that... I was so scared it wasn't gonna work," he chuckles and his hand creeps across the table to brush against yours.

"You were scared?" You ask incredulously as your fingers intertwine with his.

Doyoung laughs and brings his free hand up to his chest, "I thought you were gonna hang up," he says.

"Oh no... no, no, no. That was really good,"

"Really?" he asks

You nod and he gives you a sheepish smile.

"You know... I knew it was you the minute I heard your voice," he says.

"How?" You ask.

"That voice of yours... I could hear it once and know it anywhere. All of this mileage we've accumulated and all of the times we've stayed up talking on the phone and you really thought I wouldn't know?" he laughs.

"I think... maybe..." You trail off as you push around the bits of food left on your plate.

"Maybe you wanted me to know it was you?" he asks.

You nod. It's freeing.

"I kept thinking there was something wrong with me for feeling this way... like it's just repressed for literally years and I can't stop thinking that it's wrong to feel this way," You say as you look at him. It's easier now.

"I know it's a lot to try to grapple on your own but you have to decide what's good for you... sometimes what we want isn't always what's right but you have to decide what you're gonna do," he tells you with a reassuring smile.

"Yeah... that's the problem..." You mutter.

"So what now?" he asks.

You shrug, "I'm... not sure? I was hoping you could tell me," You say and you feel yourself shrinking inside.

"I say we eat some of that cheesecake and just enjoy the rest of the day," he says as he stands up.

It would be a lie if said you weren't disappointed. You really were anticipating something more.

He knows it and it's written all over his face.

"Okay," You say softly.

"Go find a movie for us to watch, I'll clean up and get the cheesecake," he says.

"I can help you," You reply.

Doyoung stands up, "I um... I think you should just go to the living room," he retorts.

"Why?" You ask.

"Because I keep thinking about bending you over the table but I'm trying to be a gentleman and do the right thing," he replies very calmly.

Doyoung clears the plates from the table and shoos you out of the kitchen.

You settle down on the sofa and turn the television. As you mindlessly cycle through movies and shows, your ears stay trained on Doyoung busying himself in the kitchen.

"Doie, forget the cheesecake, okay? Just come on," You call out.

Doyoung comes in and sits beside you, "So what are we watching?" he asks.

"I didn't know what to pick... I uh... I figured we could agree on something?" You say quietly.

Doyoung slinks his arm around you and eases the remote out of your hand, "Okay, Squirtle, let's find something together," he hums.

"Stop calling me that," You mumble.

Doyoung turns to look at you, "What? You don't like it?" he laughs.

"No... I don't," You huff.

"You thought you pissed yourself," he laughs a little harder.

"Doyoung, stop!" You sigh.

"Okay, okay, okay... I'll stop," he chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple.

You snuggle closer to him and rest against him as he passes movie after movie.

He lands on One Direction: This is Us and he laughs when you groan.

"Remember when you were obsessed with One Direction and sister Mary said the devil got ahold of you?" he asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah... it's because I wrote a fanfiction about Zayn and my dad told her," You groan.

Doyoung gasps, "That's why?"

"Yeah... it wasn't super smutty or anything but there was kissing. I didn't go far," You sigh.

"How far did you go, devil child?"

"Kinda far but not too far I guess?"

"Hm."

You pull the remote out of Doyoung's hand, "I can show you."

"Oh... you wanna show me?" he chuckles and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You sigh and bring his hand down to nestle between your thighs, "It started off like this," You whisper.

Doyoung's fingers find their way into your panties and he touches you softly as he holds your gaze, "Well that's a very good start," he says and leans in to kiss you slowly.

His fingers stroke you slowly and you want to believe that he couldn't possibly feel this good and have no experience but anything is possible at this point.

You moan into his mouth and he chuckles as he strokes his tongue against yours.

Your stomach flutters and you heat up as his fingers speed up and slow down.

"Doie... Doie, please... please, Doie," You whimper.

"Hm?" he hums as he slips two fingers into you, "Is this what you want?"

You writhe as he fucks his fingers into you, "Please, Doie."

Doyoung laughs and curls his fingers up to touch you just how he told you to the night before, "Oh, Y/n... Y/n, Y/n, Y/n... I'm trying so hard... to be a gentleman and you just won't let me," he purrs against your ear.

"I just want you... I need you. Please," You sob desperately as he pulls his fingers out of you and slides them into his mouth with a soft moan.

He is so obscene and drives you to the brink of desperate tears.

"You need me? For what, Squirtle? Huh?"

"I- I... please... please fuck me."

"I thought you wanted me to wife you first... what happened to that? Hm? Isn't this wrong?" he says as his fingers find their way back to your clit.

He slows his fingers down and you sigh in frustration.

"I don't care.. I don't care. I don't... I don't, I don't, I don't... just want you inside me," You beg and bring your hand down to cover his, "Please... I need it so bad."

Doyoung sucks a mark into your chest, "Don't start something that you can't finish," He hisses. His fingers speed up again.

"I want you, Doie, please," You whine.

Doyoung shifts and pushes you into a leaning position over the armrest. His hands squeeze your ass and you close your eyes in anticipation.

"You should see how good you look from here," he hums and pulls your panties down. His fingers slide over the curve of your ass to stroke your clit as you push back against his hand.

"Do you wanna know something else?" he whispers against your ear.

"Yes... uh huh,"

"I knew it was you when you joined my stream."

"H-how?"

His fingers slow down, "That's the same username you used when we snuck and made those Snapchat accounts when we were younger... remember?"

The memory ebbs back into your mind and you smile for a moment.

"You've always been my predictable girl... do you remember why you liked that username so much?"

You nod and squeeze your eyes shut as he slides his fingers inside to fuck you slowly.

"Tell me," he whispers.

"You- said I looked like brown sugar."

It was a joke you two had started. Your 'that's you' game. Finding things you thought were beautiful and yelling out "that's you!". It was an innocent game for years until it was forgotten. Doyoung, when you both were sixteen, had revived it in your kitchen while helping your mother bake Sister Janie a pecan pie when she was pregnant.

He whispered it as your mother was measuring brown sugar but this time it was different, as if he was confessing his true feelings for you and that was the day you knew you loved him.

Doyoung kisses your neck, "That's right... my beautiful girl... with the prettiest skin and the sweetest lips... I knew all along."

You wriggle and whine as his fingers continue their attack on you, "Please, Doyoung," You groan.

Doyoung pulls his fingers from your wetness and sucks them clean before opening his pants.

You turn to look at him and he pulls you up to turn and face him, "I wanna see your pretty face while I'm filling you up," he whispers as he eases you back against the space between the armrest and the back of the sofa.

You spread your legs so willingly that you're a little embarrassed.

Doyoung notices and smiles as leans down to kiss you, "That's my good girl. Don't be embarrassed... I want you just as badly," he says as he eases you out of your shirt.

Somehow, there's comfort in lying naked here in front of him and you know Doyoung feels it too.

"I love you, Y/n," he says sincerely; a look of timidity comes through and you touch his face.

"I love you too," You whisper.

A chill passes wildly through your body as you watch him unbutton his shirt. He shrugs it off and your eyes fall down to the cross on his neck. The guilt doesn't bubble up this time.

Doyoung looks down at you and you can see the reluctance in his eyes, "I wanna try something with you and I kinda wanna see your blind reaction to it because I really think you're gonna like it but I need you to trust me," he says softly.

You nod eagerly, "I trust you," You whisper.

He smiles and leans down, "Okay... open your mouth," he says softly and takes your chin between his fingers.

You part your lips and he spits in your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat as the sensation of feeling his saliva in your mouth raises goosebumps on your skin. You swallow with a soft hum.

"Oh... wow," You breathe.

"Right?" he chuckles and touches your face.

You nod in agreement as you wrap your arms around his shoulders to pull him down even closer. His necklace swings and taps your chin. It excites you in a way.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers.

You kiss his eyes, "Always."

You feel the head of his cock nudge your clit and you squeak.

"Keep your eyes on me, okay? I really wanna see your face while I'm fucking you,"

You nod and look at him.

"God, you're so beautiful," he sighs.

Slowly, he eases into you and you keep your eyes on him, just like he asked.

"I can already feel myself becoming addicted to you... I wanna stay like this with you forever and ever. You... fuck... you feel so good," he whines as he bottoms out completely.

"Doie, please," You choke out.

Doyoung pulls out almost completely before easing back into you.

"Do you like this?" he asks.

You can tell he's holding back.

You nod, stupid and enthralled by his voice and his touch, and the pressure you feel as he fills you up.

The softness of this moment is too much because how did you just fall deeper in love with him?

"P-please...go harder," You whimper as you clench around him hungrily.

Doyoung hisses and drops his head down to touch yours, "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum.... You want that? Wanna feel my cum inside you?"

"Yeah... I want it," You moan.

"You're so cute," Doyoung chuckles, "Say it. Say what it is that you want." He thrusts a little faster and you spread your legs in wanting.

"I want... you to... fill me with your cum," You pant.

"That's my dirty girl," he coos, "You're not on birth control, are you?"

You shake your head, "No... no," You reply.

He hums as he fucks into you, "Oh... so you really want me," he laughs.

You nod and lift your head to kiss him, "I... want all of you."

Doyoung slams into you once and stops to lock eyes with you, " Like that?" he asks and does it again.

You nod and whine.

He fucks you with a hard and steady rhythm and the sounds of his hips meeting yours take you somewhere obscene as you writhe against him and take each thrust with an unsurmountable greed for the next.

"I love you," You whisper; voice trembling as you lose yourself in his eyes.

"And I love you," he whispers back.

He picks up speed with a soft moan and kisses you. You lick into each other's mouth sloppily and he takes that as as sign and proves that he knows you well enough, "Open your mouth, sweetheart," he pants.

Your mouth falls open greedily and he spits in your mouth again. This time you hold it in your mouth and moan with satisfaction.

"I need more, Doie... please," You plead.

He snakes a hand down between your bodies and toys at your clit, both of your whimpers fill the thick air of your living room.

"I'm... oh, Doie," You whine, "I'm close."

"Cum for me, sweetheart. It's alright," he whispers against your mouth.

You release with a cry and Doyoung pulls out. You gasp, "No, no, no... Doie, please... please," You beg desperately.

"I'm not done, babe... turn around for me. I'm not done with you yet," he chuckles as he shifts you to turn and lean back over the armrest.

"Doie," You groan as he eases himself back into you and you welcome back that delicious stretch, "Fuck... you're so big."

Doyoung brings a hand around to stroke your clit again and you inch away from him as he fucks you. His hips smack against your ass and you whine.

"You love it, baby... You love how I stretch you out. How good it feels... I love it too... Love the way you grip me just right," he purrs.

His free hand comes up to softly circle around your throat and he pulls you up to press your back to his chest.

"Give it to me, baby... come on... You can do it again," he whispers as his fingers increase in speed. You wriggle against him and he laughs as you try to ease away from him to escape his ministrations.

"Hey, hey... where are you going, huh? Don't run from me," he laughs softly as you let him fuck into you, "That's right... stay right here with me... you love this, right?"

You nod furiously, "U-uh... h-h-huh! Yes, daddy!" you squeak.

He leans down to press his lips against your neck before licking his way up to the shell of your ear, "Yeah you do, baby... yeah, you do," he coos against your heated skin, "That's why you have to stop running from me... if you really need me to stop, you know what to say... so why don't you stay still, huh? Let me play with you."

"I love you, Doie," You gasp.

"You love me, sweetheart?" he moans.

You nod in agreement, "S-s... so... much," You sob.

His fingers stroke you faster, "Again... give it to me. Right now, baby... give it to me."

Your body is a storm of wanting him to stop but dying to feel him take you to your own heaven once more. Your body tightens up, "Doie..." You choke out.

He hisses at the sound of your soaked pussy clenching around his cock, "Sounds just like it did last night... such a good pussy... so tight and hot... it's all mine, right?"

You nod and your body convulses as you cum once more. You try to squeeze your thighs shut but Doyoung holds his hand firmly against your cunt, "You're so beautiful... just a perfect... perfect angel," he sighs as he emphasizes each word with a sharp snap of his hips.

"Please!" You cry as you try in vain to push his hand away. Despite your attempts, you don't really want him to stop. If he told you that you were to stay with him forever, just as you are right now, you wouldn't think twice about it.

"I love you, baby," he whispers as he cums. His body shudders and he kisses your neck again.

You both fall forward against the armrest and Doyoung stills himself.

You both tremble as you come down and Doyoung chuckles weakly, "I don't wanna pull out yet. Can I stay like this with you for a little bit longer?" he asks. He's still hard and if you weren't so spent, you'd do something about it.

"You're still hard," You whisper.

"It's okay, sweetheart... We have the rest of the day and I'm not going anywhere," he replies

Doyoung rouses you from your slumber gently, "I have to get home, Y/n. I have work in the morning," he whispers.

You roll over and drape your arm and leg around him, "Don't leave me," You mumble.

"Well unless you're down with three livestreams this week, I gotta go. I'll see you later. I'll come by after work," he says and kisses the side of your face.

"No... no. I'll come by your place. It's my day off. I'll make you dinner," You say as you sit up and kiss him.

"Not you being an obedient wife. Gonna make dinner and wait for me?" he chuckles.

"Yeah... what do you want me to make?"

"Whatever you want. You know I love eating anything you make," he whispers against your mouth. You know he's trying his hardest to not give in and stay with you.

"Pan fried steak with mushrooms?"

"Oooh."

"Mashed potatoes?"

"Stop, you're turning me on."

"Steamed broccoli and carrots?"

Doyoung turns onto his side then pushes you on your back and his fingers find their way between your legs.

"My parting gift to you," he says softly as his fingers draw soft circles into your clit. You spread your legs a little wider and close your eyes.

"Doie... thank you," You whimper.

Doyoung talks you through your orgasm, "Cum for me... that's my good girl. Always so wet and warm... cum, baby. You can do it," he hums.

"Doie... yes," You whine groggily.

His fingers work you faster and you gasp as you cum.

"That's my sweetheart... Good girl," he coos.

The last thing you feel before you drift back to sleep is his lips pressing softly against your forhead.

So we're slaves to any semblance of touch. Lord, we should quit but we love it too much. - Andrew Hozier-Byrne

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findafight · 1 year

Text

Tw for hospitals and use of of pain medication, infection, and canonical injuries, brief mention of the AIDS crisis. Ohhhh steddie dating pre S4 au where Robin has now been subjected at work to Steve both striking out spectacularly and flirting like he knows he's getting laid that night. She isn't sure which is worse. (The striking out is worse. She is glad her friend is happy. She's just painfully single and pining away)

The same stuff happens in s4 minus Robin and Eddie pushing Steve and Nancy together romantically (Dustin is trying to push Steve to both Robin or Nancy he's like dude these are girls you like why are you not making a move on them! I want you to be happy!!! And Steve rips his eyes away from Eddie's lips like huh?) But they're still like hey Nancy! It would be nice! If we could be friends maybe! And it's still awkward.

Robin is out here sweating and glaring at Steve and eddie trying to beam thoughts into Eddie's brain in the Upside Down like Eddie please cool it I know it's a stressful situation but stop staring at Steve's tits for five minutes pl-oh giving him your vest??? You think that's going to help? Ok buddy. I'm just going to. Distract Nancy up ahead a little bit while you and Steve chat aaaaand neither of you are listening. Fine.

And it's still a mess. Max and Eddie and Steve end up in the hospital. The ground split open but sealed itself once Steve cut Henry's head off. Everything is over.

Eddie gets discharged first, despite having more bites than Steve, because his didn't have two days to get infected with Upside Down nastiness. So he ends up camped out with Robin at Steve's bedside as he fights the infection with antibiotics (the doctors hope will work), pain meds, and a slight fever.

Which is to say, completely out of it and high as a kite.

So when Dustin visits and Steve is awake, he gets to see a big, goofy grin spread across his best friend's/adoptive older brother's face as he reaches out and says "dusssstyyyy! Cmere. Lemme. Boop you." And yeah, okay, it makes him feel a bit like a baby but Steve is out of it and apparently drugged Steve likes to Boop his younger friends noses. Dustin can accept that. He sighs and leans forward and allows his nose to be booped.

Steve giggles and smiles and pats his head. "Good to see you, man"

Dustin smiles, a bit watery because it's hard to see Steve in the hospital again, and because it was fucking terrifying to watch him nearly drop to the ground after making sure Eddie got treatment, only being caught by Robin. Dustin almost lost three people he loves, and he is so fucking glad they're all alive, if not well.

"yeah, Steve. Good to see you, too. They say when you're allowed to blow this pop stand?"

Steve frons. "No. Still got Upside Down goobies in my guts, 'parently."

Robin sighs. "They said a few more days. Make sure the infection is clear and there's no suspicious side effects."

"yeah. That's what I said, Robin."

Dustin grins, then settles down beside Robin, across from Eddie. He hasn't said anything since Dustin walked in, but was playing with the sleeve of Steve's hospital gown and tracing patterns on his arm. He looks up at Dustin, and offers a small smile.

It's a bit weird, how close he's stuck by Steve this whole time, but Dustin guesses they probably bonded when they got sucked through the watergate, and that Steve saving his life really endeared him to Eddie. He hopes they can be actual, real friends once things settle. Given how much Eddie is at Steve's bedside, he thinks they're well on their way to it.

They all chat for a while, Steve sometimes getting off topic and dreamy, but looking happy even when he isn't quite following what they're all saying. Dustin is pretty sure Steve doesn't have his hearing aids in on top of the drugs, so he isn't really surprised.

His mom eventually bustles into the room, and fusses over Steve. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Let me know if we can do anything, I mean anything, to help, okay? I'm sorry I cant visit for longer today, but what with everything happening like this, I -"

"isss okay, Mrs. H...Ma." Steve corrects himself immediately, smiling. Dustin's insides always get a bit squiggly when Steve calls his Ma, Ma. Like they're actual brothers, and she's their mom, and no one could ever argue they're not family for real. What makes it better that it was Ma who insisted Steve call her that since January of '85, as though she knew just how much both Dustin and Steve needed each other like that.

"I'll be by tomorrow, okay, dear? Robin, you and Eddie are alright for tonight? I'll stay tomorrow but today I re-"

"it's fine! Seriously, Mrs. H. Don't worry about us. My parents will force me home tomorrow anyways, but tonight we're good." Robin grips at Steve's ankle, grounding herself. Dustin doesn't think there's been a day when she hasn't been in Steve's room. Doubts if the places were reversed Steve wouldn't have to be dragged out to shower and change clothes. They're so weird, but Dustin is glad Steve has someone older that loves him like Robin does. It makes it easier to not be able to spend all day with him like he wants to.

"okay. Alright." She leans forward and kisses Steve's forehead a few times, brushes some stray hairs out of his face, just like she does when Dustin is sick in bed. "You take care Steve, sweetheart, and make sure you let Robin and Eddie take care of you too." She turns to Dustin. "I'll give you a few minutes to say goodbye and then meet me down at the car, okay?"

Dustin nods, and his mom is out the door. He sighs. "Well. I guess I'd better head out." He gives Steve a hug, a bit awkward from Steve lying down, but it's fine, Steve wraps his arms around Dustin and tries to give him his normal double squeeze, but it's more of a press with his hands than anything. Dustin'll take it. "I'm glad you're getting better Steve. Glad we're all safe."

Steve's smile is soft, gooey in a way that he usually tries to hide. "Glad you're safe, too, man. Love you." Something in his smile sharpens, then. "Unlike some people in this room you actually...listened? When I told you not to be a hero. And didn't nearly almost die."

Eddie groans, dramatic. It seems like a game they're playing with each other more than anything, but it's a game Dustin doesn't know the parameters of, and it's jarring. "C'mon, Steve. I said I was sorry! I wasn't going to let Dustin get hurt."

Steve glares at Eddie, which would be more intimidating if he wasn't scrutching up his nose or propped up by pillows freshly fluffed by one Claudia Henderson. "Which is the reason why you're allowed in here even though you almost died. Dustin is safe, and that's good. But I'd've been so fuckin pissed if you died."

Robin snorts, pats Steve's hand. "Oh, buddy. You'd have been inconsolable."

"yeah. Exactly. it would have fucking sucked, Eddie. So. I'm still mad at you, even though I love you. Probably because I love you."

Which is. Not what Dustin was expecting. Sure, Steve was pretty open about his love. Especially after Starcourt, when he finally seemed to settle into something Dustin thinks of as comfortable with who he is. (Which is, actually, a big softie with a bit of a bitchy mouth) He's told Dustin he loves him before, and he's pretty sure he's told Max too. Steve says he loves Robin all the time, just not romantically even if Dustin doesn't think that's entirely true, but.

This feels different.

It is different, given the way Eddie squeaks a bit and sways towards Steve. "Steve..." He breathes, his eyes big and wet and wide. He swallows. "Steve. Dustin doesn't. He's still here, i--"

Steve's brow furrows. "Yeah? So? Did you not want...oh." something in the blankness that drops over Steve is scary, especially in comparison to how Steve's been open and lax the entire time Dustin's been in the room.

Steve turns his head slightly towards Eddie, ten slightly away, like he doesn't know if he wants to look at him or not. Dustin shuffles his feet, not quite sure what's going on, feeling awkward and wrongfooted. Robin stands, puts her hand on Dustin's shoulder, tries to turn him away and out the door, but Dustin isn't leaving when Steve's face is all stiff and blank like it is.

"steve--" Eddie sounds wrung out, wrecked. What the hell is going on?

Steve sniffs ever so slightly, interrupting Eddie. "You don't have to say it. You don't even have to-uh. To feel it, right now. That's okay. I've done that before. I can wait." Dustin sees a muscle twitch in his jaw. "But if you- if you don't think you can, I need to know now, actually. Because now Dustin knows but he's my brother so that's good and fine but if you don't want to--if you don't think this is gonna, like, be a long-term, tell people important to us kind of thing; if you're realizing that it's been long enough that you should feel that--that way about me but you don't, then I need to know because I don't want you lying about how you feel. I can't do that again. When you say it back I want to be sure you mean-"

"I love you too, Steve! Jesus fuck." Eddie blurts, apparently having had enough of. Well. Everything Steve was saying.

It's dawning on Dustin that maybe when Steve and Eddie said they knew each other they didn't just mean from highschool. That they. Well. Obviously they love each other. Which is....something to consider later because Steve looks like he's about to cry. Because Woah, Dustin has misread a lot between the two of them if they're...like this.

"yeah? You're sure?" He says, wobbly now he isn't rambling.

Eddie's squished himself more into Steve's space. "yes, yeah, of course Steve. Fuck. You met Wayne! I want you in my life, for a long, long time. I don't- I didn't do anything to make you think I didn't, did I?" His voice is a little rough, and little pleading.

Steve shakes his head, grips Eddie's hand in his m, even as Eddie uses it to support himself over top Steve. "No. I just. I know it freaks people out, is all, and I don't want you to freak out, or leave, or think you had to because we've been dating for a few months and I want to say it. It just came out because it's true."

Eddie laughs, leans in reeealy close to Steve. "Honey. It came out because you're high and morphene."

Steve grumbles a bit, but he's smiling too, and knocks their foreheads together. "Yeah. And also because it's true. I love you."

Eddie's eyelids flutter, Dustin can see, as he grins. "And I love you." He says, before closing the distance and kissing Steve squarely on the mouth.

Robin clears her throat. "As...heartwarming and sappy you two are. Dustin has to leave, and probably...has some questions? That he's not going to be a dick about?" She says this as she grips his shoulder tightly, in a way that is definitely a threat.

Dustin nods furiously. Eddie sighs but pushes away from Steve, not before pecking him again, drawing that dopey smile back into Steve's face. "Yeah." He says. "I'll walk you out Henderson."

Dustin waves goodbye to Steve, who seems cheery once again, wiggling his fingers are Dustin and Eddie, before walking out the door behind Eddie.

"so. How long have...has that been a thing?" He asks, as soon as they clear the doorframe.

Eddie huffs, but seems good natured about it. "Few months. December."

"okay." Says Dustin. "Uh. I didn't. I didn't know you...or Steve, I guess...I didn't know you guys were-" he lowers his voice, despite the hallway being surprisingly empty. "Gay."

There's something steely in Eddie's eye when he answers. "We're not. Well-we are, but we both also like women."

Something doesn't sit right about that with Dustin. "But! You just said-"

Eddie holds his hands up, and Dustin shuts his mouth on instinct. "You can like both while just dating one person, Dustin. Just because you like women doesn't mean you're going around with girls who aren't Suzie, right?" He nods. He adores Suzie, can't really imagine looking at any other girl like that because she's just. Amazing. She's his girlfriend and they love each other, and just because girls are pretty great doesn't mean Dustin wants anything other than friendship wi--oh. He sees where Eddie is going.

"right. Yeah. Sorry."

Eddie shrugs. "Steve kinda dropped a bomb in both of us, today"

""isn't it weird though?"

"well...girls and guys are different"

"they are indeed."

"so, if you like girls, why do you like...boys...too?"

"why do you like girls and not boys, Dustin?"

Which is hard to answer because, well. Dustin's never really thought about why he likes girls. He just does. And maybe that's what Eddie means. There's no reason, really. People just...like what they like.

Or there are reasons, because girls are pretty and often smell nice and Suzie looks like a mad scientist when her ponytail gets a little loose after hours of working on a project, her eyes glinting behind her glasses as she giggles and bites her lip, just a little. But that's mostly Suzie. So. He can't really put a finger on why he's only ever had crushes on girls, or why before last summer they've never been as much or as consuming as his love for Suzie. Never been anything like the long days spent together at camp building and creating and blasting ideas off each other, before one day Suzie took his hand and they ended up sneaking away to look at the stars, trying to outdo each other's knowledge about them and slowly being pulled into the other's orbit like binary stars. He's never really wanted to kiss anyone like he wants to kiss Suzie, not even when he had a brief and fleeting crush on Max.

"oh." Is what he says, and feels pretty lame for it.

Eddie shrugs. "You can't really choose who you like." He says before breathing in. "But you do choose who you love, and how you love them."

And. Well. Dustin thinks of his Ma sweeping Steve up into family dinners every other week, and how the party absorbed Max into it as easy as anything, and holding Suzie's hand as they looked up at the stars in dew covered grass feeling like the world starts and ends there, and of Steve and Robin cackling together and having seemingly no personal space or boundaries between them. And of Steve and Eddie, saying I love you for the first time in a hospital room after saving the world.

"That's pretty good." Dustin says, and Eddie smirks at him.

"yeah. Steve said it to me, way back on our second date."

Dustin scoffs. Because he should have known; it's so typically Steve to say something like that. "And you were surprised when he said he loves you?"

Eddie's eyes twinkle in the florescent lights of the hospital. "Nah. Just... it's different being pretty sure, and knowing for sure. I also didn't want him saying something in front of you he'd regret."

He nods. "That's fair. I...don't know how I would've taken it if Steve weren't in the hospital, honestly. Like!" He tries to reassure Eddie "I would have gotten over it, for sure! But if had had sat me ore the party down and talked it out I might've been, like, y'know. Super weird about it. Because. I mean. This talk is good, right? I'm think about things and thinking about how I've only ever really wanted to kiss Suzie, even if I thought about maybe abstractly kissing other people. And how we as humans have all these quirks that let us be human, but different, which enable us as a species to thrive." He heaves a breath. "But. Seeing Steve all loopy and saying it, and then being worried you felt pressure about it, I dunno. It makes sense, I guess. I don't know how you two met or got to know each other, but. I guess it makes sense, how you like each other. And talking to you now. It's helped, I think."

Everything is a bit scrambled in Dustin's brain, the love and the confusion and the worry, because it's setting in that in Hawkins, something like this, for Steve and Eddie, is dangerous. Something that could get them hurt or killed, scorned by the town they've helped save.

His mother always grumbles agrily when ads about how the virus going around is God's punishment for sinners, or how it's cleaning up the streets of unwanted people gays and addicts. She huffs, swears. Says that just because bigots don't consider the people getting sick as wanted or valuable, doesn't mean no one does. That no one deserves to get sick for things they cannot control, or for things they can. A smoker is more likely to get lung cancer, but that doesn't mean they deserve it more than someone who's never seen a cigarette.

Their families will mourn them the same.

They reach the main doors, and Dustin sees his mom has pulled into a pick up lane, blinkers on. He turns to Eddie, and burries his face in his neck.

Eddie takes it in stride, parting his back and giving him a bit of a squeeze. It's not as good a hug as Steve gives, but that bar is only really surpassed by his mom, so it's still a good hug.

"please be careful, Eddie."

"ah," says Eddie, and he pulls back slightly. "We are, man. You're close to both of us and didn't suspect. We know what we're doing."

Dustin raised his eyebrows. Now that he has context, a lot of interactions between Steve and Eddie in the wake of getting them out of the Upside Down seem a lot less friendly.

Eddie chuckles. "Seriously. We are. It was just hard during everything, and, well, we both feel safe around you guys. I think Steve's been gearing up to ask me if we can tell all of you sheepies soon."

"yeah?"

"yeah, bud. Don't worry about us."

"Considering you just got released and Steve is still in the hospital, I think a little worrying over you jackasses is justified."

Eddie smirks. "Fine. A normal and reasonable amount of worrying, then. But no more than that. Now, git! Your ma's waiting on you."

Dustin smiles, "yeah, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

"yep. You know where to find me."

He waves again as he hopes into the front seat, and buckles his seatbelt before Ma can ask him to. He smiles at her, and feels oddly...grounded. a mystery has been solved, even if Dustin doesn't have all the pieces, he still has the big picture.

"everything alright, Dusty? Nothing wrong with Steve, is there?" She asks, even as she changes out of park.

"yeah, yeah. Just accidentally stumbled over something saying goodbye, and was worried about them. But everything is fine. Robin and Eddie have Steve handled."

They turn out of the hospital parking lot, heading for home. Ma smiles. It's softer, more indulgent than usual. "Yes. They're good for each other, I think. Compliment one another nicely."

Dustin doesn't bother asking which set she's talking about, thinks maybe they both know.

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