#they air-brushed the hell out of him in at least that second one
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CanCam: 2017.2
#kimura takuya#木村拓哉#takuya kimura#scans#magazine#they air-brushed the hell out of him in at least that second one#but eh
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Hypnotize Me
Summary: You and the gang investigate a hotel haunted by a demon that influences people in ways none of you experienced before, making it the final push for Colby to solidify the relationship he always wanted with you.
Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, MFM (no Solby) threesome, unprotected sex, overstimulation, love bites, squirting, messy sex
Words: 7.6k
No Y/N Used
Title is from ‘Hypnosis’ by Sleep Token
I was so damn tired.
The backpack met the thin floor with a thud that hung in the air. My eyes were too heavy to open fully, and maybe I led us all into the most haunted room—of course the largest suite as well—in the hotel, but I really couldn't care less.
“Oh—Wait this is actually nice,” Colby spoke first between the five of us. He brushed past me and walked into the room to our left.
”Wow it actually is,” I think Nate said as he rounded the corner. I don’t think my toes lifted off the roughened carpet as I dragged myself through the unrealistically large suite to find the bedroom. When I found it, I audibly moaned in relief.
”Holy shit! Maybe we didn’t need the second room, this bed is probably big enough to fit all of us.” Sam must have followed me with the camera but I ignored him as I face planted into the ivory linen sheets. They covered my peripherals, and my eyes rolled back in the suffocating darkness.
It was worth not checking for stains or bed bugs first.
Then there was a loud scuffle.
“Ah—! Jesus, I almost met god because of your backpack in the middle of the floor.” I huffed a breath in response; Colby must have tossed the backpack to the side of the bed but I didn’t flinch from the reverberation. Didn’t care that my laptop was in there at all.
Maybe I needed a shower; after two sleepless nights in a cold dangerous area proceeding a haunted hot as hell area, a shower and a dreamless night in the deepest cavern of this bed was first on my priority list.
Of course the boys had different plans. We were in the middle of our third video of the week. Thank god it was the last as well.
Between infiltrating an abandoned building outside of Portland to talking to whatever lurks in the woods of a small town somewhere in Texas, I was beat. Road kill, some would say, and dare I say I looked like it too. My hair was a mess and my nose was still red from the cold wind in the north but my neck was caked with old sweat from the humid heat of the faux winter in Texas. At least I could hear it in all of their voices too; this quickly became a midnight hunt rather than an afternoon hunt. If only we could get through this damn intro.
”—here she is, she's uh well—tired.” I lifted my head up slowly and looked up to see the camera and Sam’s tired eyes smiling down at me. “Don’t blame her; at least we all feel the way she looks.”
I flipped him off before he turned the camera towards himself.
”That was mean,” he laughed. I stuffed my face back in the now damp with sweat and hot breath duvet. “But fair. We’re going to rest this afternoon and after dinner, we have a meeting with one of the most skilled demonologists we’ve ever met.”
”Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ve met one in every country we’ve filmed in,” Colby tagged on as I heard him approach Sam.
”Pretty soon we’ll be able to say we’ve met every demonologist—“
I don’t remember what the ending of Sam’s sentence entailed.
My eyes opened.
The room was dark besides the ambient orange light from the lamp beside the head of the bed. The curtains were shut. What time was it?
I lifted to my elbows but drew in a breath when I felt weight fall from me. I looked to my left and noticed how Colby rolled from his side to his back; his face turned away from me. He was knocked out. Was his arm across me as we slept?
Two nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night in the same situation except two bright eyes stared back at me. Even in the dim moonlight that shined through the broken ceiling of the abandoned building, his eyes glowed bright back at me. I told myself the only reason I fell back asleep in his arms was because I shivered my skin off from the chill. I felt his body shake as well which meant it must have been cold even with the sleeping bags. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been daydreaming about what his hands felt like on my back and what the warmth of his neck felt like on my face, my lips.
As I stretched on the bed and yawned as quietly as I could, I looked to my other side and I nearly choked myself half to death when Sam jumpscared me. He as well lay on his front with his head supported on his crossed arms. I didn’t know how I didn’t feel his side flush to mine. We slept in almost the same position.
My face burned when I pulled my leg off of Colby’s.
I slid backwards off the bed and popped my neck; my body ached from sleep uncomfortably. I was ready for a real sleep. Although, that nap did fare well. Nate slept on the other side of Sam and I smiled at the sight of his arm and leg wrapped around Sam’s body.
I snapped photos of them. For blackmail. Or, at this point, pure entertainment.
I grabbed my bag and headed into the bathroom. I held my breath for some reason as I turned on the light and nothing happened. It always crossed my mind that maybe—just maybe—everything was a lie and hauntings weren’t real because of evenings like this one. We all were zonked on the bed—aside for poor Seth who coiled up on one of them sofas in the main room across from the bedroom—and not a thing happened.
Then again I'm sure I could have time traveled during that nap and I wouldn't have known a thing.
The warm water almost lulled me to sleep then and there, but the chilly tiles kept a pep in my step. I wished I had this room to myself. I imagined it then; kicking the boys to the floor so I could have the largest bed I had ever seen all to my clean self.
I didn't do that.
By the time I was finished blow drying my hair and making myself as presentable as possible for the camera while keeping my future bed time routine simple, I heard commotion in the rest of the suite. I pulled a new pair of black jeans from my bag and pulled on a thermal long sleeve and a hoodie on top of it with rushing hands. What was the plan now?
“Yeah man, I have no idea.” I only caught the end of Colby’s gentle statement when I opened the door. His eyes found mine and I watched intently to find out what they were saying.
”Seth is still asleep,” he said.
”And Sam wants to be,” Sam spoke into Nate’s side. He held onto Nate and tried to curl into him comfortably, but Nate scooted away with every advance Sam made. I scoffed a laugh as I passed the pathetic three on the bed.
”And Nate wants to get this show on the road or else he won’t ever get up from this bed. Jesus, it’s damn comfortable.”
”It really is though,” Colby said.
”I don’t think the nap did anything for me even though it was really nice,” I admitted. Colby aimed his attention at me as I dropped my bags under the covered window on the side of the bed he sat on.
”Yeah, I’m really tired still as well.”
“Let’s get energy drinks and some food before we miss the meeting,” Sam said as he too yawned and stretched.
”Someone wake up Seth.”
”Oh right,” Nate laughed as he got up to do just that. “Can’t forget poor sleeping Seth.”
”He looks so cold,” Sam laughed.
”Not as cold as two nights ago.”
”Don’t remind me,” he moaned.
“We’re here with Dr. Smith; the renowned demonologist who’s especially familiar with all of the paranormal activity that’s happened here at this hotel,” Sam spoke to the camera.
As much as dinner was amazing fuel, as soon as we got back into the lobby of the hotel and started the meeting with Dr. Smith, my eyelids were heavy again. Sure, we missed two nights of restful sleep, but how tired was too tired?
A subtle flinch on my hand yanked my attention from the interview, and my eyes met Colby’s whose eyebrows rose with question. ‘I’m good,’ I nodded. ‘Tired,’ I mouthed and he nodded heavily with his eyes closed. His eyes were darker than I had seen them, and when I looked back in Nate’s direction, I noticed the distraction in his eyes.
Were we all truly this spent? We all had taken many trips with Sam and Colby through the years, and almost every week was filled with three or four high adrenaline videos to get done. The traveling mixed with the paranormal adrenaline and the unrestful sleep promised hazy days and many many energy drinks, but this? This was different.
”Seth—“ My attention was pulled by Sam’s voice.
”Shit I’m sorr—“
”It’s fine,” Dr. Smith said. “If you all don’t know, the main issue visitors have dealt with in this hotel is fatigue.” My stomach dropped. “The souls that make pit stops here often get trapped and are weary from living in purgatory in these walls.” Somehow a burst of energy coursed my veins at this insight; at least my suspicions weren’t too outlandish.
”This makes a lot of sense,” Colby sighed.
“We’re outrageously tired and took a three hour nap,” Sam laughed. Dr. Smith nodded.
”If it’s already affecting all of you this much, you might want to be careful when you go to the third floor then; people are known to pass out very frequently because of—well the things that live there.”
”Why—What’s on the third floor and why does it make people pass out?”
”We believe there is a demon who stays in this hotel, specifically the third floor, and it influences the spirits and human people who come. It doesn’t like to be alone, but it also doesn’t enjoy the company of people so it depletes energy quickly.”
”Almost like an omen for them to leave?” Sam questioned.
”Maybe,” Dr. Smith said as his head fell to the side with some disagreement.
”Or is it more so wanting something to do, like, does it enjoy messing with people or something?”
“I think that’s the case,” he responded as he pointed to Colby. “It might be bored and it may want human energy to feed on and manipulate.”
The way that Dr. Smith expressed the demon’s wants sent chills down my arms and it felt like hot air held my ears. Maybe this would be a long night, and maybe some decent activity would come of it.
Hopefully all this fatigue wasn’t for nothing.
”I’m still on edge about all of… this,” Seth said as his hands gestured to everything around us. We walked through the hotel with quiet voices and the camera filming on Sam’s side.
”Same, but what are you feeling?” Colby asked.
”I’m freaked out about how we all are equally feeling the demon’s effect already and we haven’t even tried to taunt it or anything.”
”I mean, it could just be because of our trip,” Nate spoke. The voice of reason. “We barely slept.”
”Yeah but all of us took long naps and we all feel like zombies even after the drinks.” No one argued that.
As we walked and talked and introduced the hotel to the camera, Colby made sure to keep up with my pace. I couldn’t decipher whether I imagined it or I was the one keeping up with him, but for some reason, all my attention honed in on him and his body and every motion it made.
And when we turned the corner and Sam quickly stopped in front of me, I halted in my steps and Colby’s body collided into mine. I held my breath so I wouldn’t gasp; we all were quiet. Seth had heard something and Sam whispered to the camera.
I backed up into him tighter when his hands that held onto my waist dug in deeper. His breath skipped some and he let go of me and passed me with a raised whisper when Sam asked him something. It took me a moment. A dazed moment. My tired brain was so overwhelmed with everything that suddenly I felt intoxicated. Intoxicated by the fatigue, intoxicated by the lack of effected air conditioning, intoxicated by Colby who seemed to also be unable to stop touching me and thinking about me—
What was going on?
I lagged behind the boys as they walked down the hallway. Colby turned to me. His eyes were dilated, face flushed, hand reached back towards me.
”Come on, don’t fall behind,” he whispered. I took his hand and didn’t say anything because I swore my heart replaced my vocal cords in my throat.
Even as it got hotter when we ventured to the second floor and even as the sheen of sweat in between our palms became more so a dripping pool, I didn’t let go of him. And he didn’t let go of me.
“Are you okay?” He whispered down to me. I nodded slowly.
”Yeah, just hot as fuck.”
”Are you good?” Sam’s louder voice caught my attention and I looked up. Nate spoke animatedly to Seth with a hand pointed down the hall and Sam had turned towards us. The camera was to his side.
”Yeah,” Colby answered for me. “We—It’s hot as hell and can barely stay awake.”
”I know,” Sam sighed breathlessly. Sweat too lined his face. “Dr. Smith did say that they have perpetual issues with the AC on the third floor, and even during the winter it gets this hot.”
”Couldn’t imagine the summer here,” Nate said as he spun into our conversation.
”I’m really wanting to get to the third floor to test some things out.”
”Like the Estes method?” Seth asked. Sam nodded quickly.
We were on our way and my heart burned in my chest. I gripped Colby’s hand tighter as my head rushed with more elevation. The elevator was slow but my pace was slower, and the fatigue gnawed at my bones.
”You’re not going to pass out are you?”
”No,” I shook my head. “I mean not yet at least.”
”Don’t worry,” Sam said. “We’ll catch you.”
”Shut the hell up,” I snapped as the elevator doors opened. Nate led the way. “Of all of us, I trust you to purposely miss me.”
”Yeah that’s only because Colby would have caught you before you even started to fall—“
Seth’s spiteful jeer was cut off by a loud bang at the end of the hallway. Sam and Nate rushed forward around the corner with the camera.
“There’s literally nothing,” I heard Sam’s whisper. I ignored the smirk on Seth’s face as he gave a look to Colby. We three turned the corner as well.
Nothing. An average looking empty hotel room shined back at us. Not even a member of housekeeping nor their supplies showed any kind of appearance.
“We’re in a hotel for fuck’s sake,” I whisper. “It could be a damn guest.”
”True,” Nate said. We slowly walked backwards.
”Alright,” Sam started and lifted the camera. Real filming time. “The demon’s known to be most responsive in the conference room on the third floor, which is where we’re headed.”
”Yeah because for some reason this demon has a lot of business to get done,” Seth said. We all looked at him. I burst out with one singular laugh and slapped my knee.
”Good one.”
The conference room was larger than I anticipated and dark and musty. We left the lights off and turned on all our flashlights and faced them towards the ceiling to give more of an expansive ambient light. As Colby set up the rem pod, I held an emf device and Sam prepared Seth to go under on the Estes method. For as empty as this room appeared to be, it sure as hell felt full.
Tables lined the back wall while chairs were stacked near them. A few stragglers of chairs peppered the room but other than that, only two gigantic crystal chandeliers decorated the room other than the hardly touched plush carpet with intricate designs.
The heat around my face didn’t get better. Only worse. I could hardly breathe. My vision was hazy and it was as if the air suddenly had a film of white air over taking the much needed oxygen. I decided that I was just crazy and sleep deprived when none of the guys complained about it.
”If there’s a spirit in here, let us know by coming close to one of our devices,” Sam started. His voice echoed around the room. “If you would like to speak with us you can do so by touching these devices,” he pointed to the rem pod and emf. “Or you can send words into this and it will read them back to us—“
Present
My heart stopped at the shrill of the ovilus.
”Thank you so much, I’m Sam, these are my friends—“ We each said our names. “We’re just here to talk and nothing more. Can we ask you some questions?”
”The rem pod—“ Colby rushed out. We all looked at the brightness of its lights. The rem pod never seemed so bright and loud to me than at that moment.
”Yeah that’s the rem pod it’s pretty intense,” Sam said. ”How many of you are there?”
Full
”The ovilus said full—
Meeting
”Does this mean a meeting full of spirits are here?” Sam asked. The rem pod stopped.
”If you have a lot to say and would like to talk to Seth in the spirit box, then move back to that—“
The rem pod went off again and stayed on
Sam turned to us with wide eyes and I stared back at him unblinking.
”Get—Alright Seth get on the spirit box,” Colby told him.
Seth sat in the chair blindfolded and he set the headphones on his head. The moment he went under I too felt a rush of dizziness.
”Hey—“ Colby grabbed my hand. “You good?”
”The energy drink must be making me jittery or something,” I said. “I’m so damn tired like I can’t keep my eyes open but I’m faster.” He nodded with a slight grin.
”Hopefully it’s just that—“
”Sam,” Seth spoke in a monotone voice.
”Hi, yeah that’s me. Who am I talking to, what’s your name?”
”Many.”
”There’s many of you, aren’t there? Are you all trapped here?” Sam must have been referencing Dr. Smith who said that the spirits here are trapped in purgatory.
”Not likely.” Seth’s voice twisted in my chest like a knife; I didn’t know what it was but I couldn’t breathe and the tone in his voice told me something different.
”Is there a way for you all to leave?”
”There was just—just a noise I think a sigh? Or a laugh? I don’t know— Irrational.” Sam’s head cocked to the side at the obscure word the spirit box tagged on to Seth’s description of the sound.
”What’s irrational?”
”Maybe it’s saying we’re irrational to think they are trapped,” Colby told him.
”Probably. Do you like staying here?”
“Feeding.” Seth's single word alone sent chills across your arms as if it didn't push 90 degrees in the room.
“Are you feeding on energies? I know a lot of people stay here—”
“Love it when you… I didn't catch the rest.”
“You love feeding on the energies or something?” Sam's patient tone never ceased to shock and impress me. The way he so confidently handled the discussion was something entirely beyond my capabilities. If whatever this was fed on any energy at all, it must have been mine because as my fear increased the remaining ounce of my energy decreased.
“Dr. Smith was talking about how this was like a super busy place for humans and spirits, and it's easy for them to get trapped since the supposed demon loved stealing the energy—” Colby spoke before Seth interrupted him.
“You bet, you bet I do—No for real guys that's what it said before a laugh. I'm shaking,” Seth rushed. Colby shot a glance at Sam the same time Sam turned to him.
“Why do you stay here and take the energy—”
“It—” Seth laughed as his cheeks blushed pink. “It's literally just a girl moaning.”
“Moaning? What the fuck?” Sam whispered back at Colby.
“Do you like to trick people here? Are you bored or something so you feed off their energy for entertainment?” Colby asked.
“I love it, I love it, I love—So stupid.” My head turned to the side in confusion; what the hell did that mean?
“Are you calling us stupid because we don't understand?” Sam asked.
For some reason I raised my voice next.
“Or are you calling the people you play with stupid—”
“Fucking bitch.”
“What the fuck,” Sam gasped as he looked at me.
“Damn sorry for speaking,” I laughed.
“You will be.” The boys gasped and looked at me as I stared at a completely oblivious Seth who still rocked back and forth in time with the jumping channels in his headphones.
“That's—That’s a threat,” Colby raised his voice. He took a step in front of me.
“You can't touch us or mess with us, you und—”
“Too late.”
“Too late as in too late because we’re all tired?” Nate asked.
“Yeah maybe it's already influenced us like Dr. Smith—” It cut Colby off.
“You'll feel it. Can't you?”
“Yeah we're pretty tired,” Sam replied, still somehow patient and confident. “Is that you making us tired?”
“Even more than.”
“More than what? You're making us more tired than usual?”
“Idiot.” Sam took a step back with a laugh.
“I'm tired of getting roasted by a demon,” he laughed. I wanted to laugh with them, but the fire started at my knees. Yes, it was hot in the room, but a particular ache that I wished was new spread lower than it typically did.
It was hot. And I wasn't just sweating.
“What’s your name?” Colby spoke up that time.
“It's my pleasure.”
“What does that mean?” Sam asked in our direction. Colby shook his head. I stared intently at Seth still as if I couldn't look away. The fairness of his skin drew me in and it took a full seven more seconds until I realized the fire in my legs raised to my mid thigh and even higher.
I ached.
“What's your pleasure, what do you like to do to people?” Colby asked.
“Everything.”
My stomach fell out of its place.
“Everything,” Sam gasped nsd Colby quickly raised his hand.
“You would do everything to us?”
“Somethings.”
“You cannot hurt us or follow us home, you must stay here—”
“Oh trust me.”
“I don't like this,” I finally choked out.
“Yeah me neither,” Colby’s voice gently replied.
“Should we get him out?”
“One more question then we will,” he replied to Sam.
“What do you want to do to us?”
“it's already been done.”
“What? What have you—”
“Bye.”
And the headphones yanked from Seth’s head and fell to his feet by themselves.
The five of us stood frozen; all eyes peeled to the headphones that now reverberated with the shrill of empty changing channels.
The heat pooled in my stomach. I needed to change underwear.
“Holy shit—“ I finally break and take a step back.
”I know, oh god. What was—What the fuck—”
“What the hell just happened?” Colby cried and cut off Nate.
”Let’s—Let’s go back,” Sam choked out. “We need to get out of here.” Seth was deathly still and soaked in what had just happened to him. Nate’s hand held the back of his neck as we all left the conference room.
“Did—Did we get anything good at least?”
“Oh my god, let me tell you what happened.” On the way back to our rooms many stories above, Sam told Seth the entire story.
“How was that possible?” Colby finally broke. He spun around and walked backwards so he could see us all. “It literally stole enough energy from us to throw the fucking headphones down!”
”Which makes sense. I might pass out,” Seth said.
“Let’s hurry.” Colby grabbed my hand.
The ache wouldn’t leave. It was like it attached itself to my legs and spread up, up, and up— the heat in between my legs was unbearable now. I needed sleep. I needed to pass out. I needed—
I looked at Colby as we entered the elevator. His eyes were nearly devoid of color. We all were drained and tired, and this strange feeling like a spirit of desperation or something, came over all of us so suddenly that even Sam forgot to pick up the camera and press record again.
Nate and Seth went straight to their suite and Sam led us into ours. My heart pounded against my ribs as I crossed the threshold. Eyes. I felt their eyes on me but I didn’t turn back. Too tired, too drained, I didn’t know what else, or how much else, I could handle. I kicked my shoes off if I walked and didn’t even mind that they were in the middle of the floor. I flopped on the bed only for them to follow me.
Sam pulled a rem pod out of the backpack and set it up in the corridor between the first room and the bedroom while he set another room in between the corridor of the bedroom to the bathroom.
”Just in case,” he told Colby as he shot him confused looks.
The anxiety that welled in my chest depleted when Sam yawned and slipped out of his hoodie. Colby’s eyes were closed and I couldn’t tear my eyes from his dark lips when he licked them wet.
”I’m so ready to pass out,” Sam said. He flicked the lights off.
Colby made a sound as he moved and I heard him as well strip clothes off. What was happening? It sounded like their heads were caught in a fog as well and we couldn’t think. Our decision making skills were non-existent and when I slipped under the blankets in between them, it didn’t feel off from any other situation we had been in. At least Sam plugged his phone in. I could have left mine in that conference room and it wouldn’t have mattered to me.
The darkness of our room struck me before my head hit the pillow and I was out.
My throat was a dry fire and my skin turned to lava. My eyes peeled open and swirls of blues and whites from my forgotten dream mix with the darkness of the room around me. I whined. It was fucking hot. I sat up straight because if I didn’t get the hoodie off of me immediately I was certain I would die.
”Hey,” I heard Colby’s half asleep voice. I only whined again in response. He sat up. “What’s wrong—“
”So fucking hot I’m going to be sick.”
”Here, here,” his soft voice replied, and his hands quickly snaked under my hoodie. It was a frenzy to get everything off. I didn’t know what came over me, us, but before I knew it my hoodie hit the floor on top of his leather jacket and my thermal came off with it. My back hit the bed again as he hovered halfway over me. “Better?” He whispered.
”I—I don’t—I need—“
”What do you need?” My hands already fumbled with the button of my skinny jeans. Colby’s eyes trailed down my body and I didn’t cower in the sight. His hands swatted mine away and I lifted my hips so he could drag the damp fabric from them. Only when my jeans met his on the floor did I realize that he too only wore underwear.
”Something—anything—“
”Fuck, it’s not just me who feels it then, huh?” I shook my head quickly. He wavered in his confidence. Even in the darkness of the room I watched his head shake. His arms shook as well and he fought within himself it seemed.
”Do whatever you want, Colby.” So he lowered himself down on me. When did my legs spread?
And when I felt how hot and hard he was already, questions poured through my mushy brain faster than I could process them. Was this an effect from the demon? If so, what kind of demon was it? Were we not just tired out of our minds but also horny out of our minds as well? What if this wasn’t even the demon? Did I really like Colby more than I was willing to admit? Was Sam alright? Was he even still asleep?
A moan hitched in my throat when Colby purposely thrusted against me slowly. My back arched and he pinned me down by my throat.
”Sh,” he demanded. “This is what I want. You still gonna let me do it?”
I couldn’t think. Nothing rational repeated disagreements in my mind because for far too long now I’ve wanted this too.
I nodded frantically.
”Please, I’ll beg you to do it if you won’t.” He laughed once.
”I don’t think I can give you the time to beg this time.” This time? More sounds so far from myself escaped my tense throat when his thumb dipped into my mouth. He pulled at my teeth then my bottom lip and even though I know he only tried to find where my mouth was, my eyes still rolled back at the feeling and bitter taste.
And his mouth was on mine.
He drank down my moans and pushed my legs back so that he could thrust against every part of me. I couldn’t even call any part of this dry or clothed because my arousal was enough to saturate both of our clothes to ruin.
My stomach couldn’t keep up; it twisted under my skin and my heart pounded in my ears with every lick of his tongue behind my teeth. My hands chased up his skin from his pantline to his neck where I held tightly. I couldn’t get enough of it even if our sweat mended together past the point of comfort and our noises and movements were definitely harsh enough to wake Sam.
When he pulled away, I sucked on his tongue hoping to bring him back.
”Holy fuck—“ he gasped as I let go of his tongue. It was then and there that I decided I could never get over his taste and I needed more and more of it until I was addicted.
And I heard a heavy breath from Sam.
He did too because both of us shot wide glances at him. Of course Colby didn’t stop the obscene movements against me. Thankfully. Colby looked back at me, but I still watched Sam sleep. His head tossed from being disturbed and my heart dropped when I realized that in a matter of seconds, Sam’s eyes would be on us.
”Look at me,” Colby hummed and of course I did. “Please, can I…” He mumbled as his fingertips dipped under the band of my underwear.
”Fucking god—obviously,” I whined and writhed under him because why wouldn’t he hurry the fuck up—
My underwear were halfway down my thighs when we froze in our tracks; a moan that wasn’t mine.
“What—“
And another.
We looked at Sam simultaneously and I couldn’t look away from him this time.
”Maybe it—Maybe it’s not just us too,” Colby aimlessly spoke as he hurried to get my underwear off my legs. It was impossible to keep still. The friction overstimulated my every nerve but it also wasn’t enough. I needed more, more of something, of anything.
”Fuck.” Another drawn out moan interrupted us and I couldn’t contain the fluttering in my chest from the sound of Sam’s voice. He must have still been asleep because he moved lazily. I watched him as Colby ducked under the blanket.
Just as Colby’s mouth met my thighs, Sam thrusted up into the sheets.
He looked for something, anything, and in that moment I understood. I questioned, something in me truly did because this was incredibly unlike us, but I couldn’t think straight. Not with this haze flooding my neck and this cotton stuffed in my brain.
”Colby—“ I gasped the second his tongue met me. My hand found his hair and it only pulled a moan from him.
“What the fuck.” And there it was. A groggy voice next to me. I looked away from him in fear of my own red blush but I forgot how dark the room was. “Oh shit—“ It sounded like Sam came to and understood the situation now. “What the hell, why do I feel—“
”Sam.” I didn’t mean to hum his name the same way I did Colby’s. Colby moaned as he sucked me sweetly; I nearly blacked out from the heat of his tongue. And when his fingers teased me? My hips writhed for him. “Please oh my god, more just—inside already,” I whined and thank the heavens Colby didn’t put up a fight.
I didn’t even try to conceal my moans anymore, not when his fingers filled me and his tongue stimulated me so perfectly. Even in the darkness I saw and felt the head rush; my vision pounded with stimulation and shock.
Muffled moans caught my attention and I looked at Sam. He had turned to his front and although his eyes were closed and pointed down, he still faced me. His arms were crossed under his pillow and I knew he tried to fall back asleep.
He was closer though.
And I didn’t disregard the way his hips thrusted repeatedly into the mattress.
”Colby please, god I’m so close.”
”I know,” he whispered but pulled away. I wanted to complain but how could I when his kisses and tongue trailed up my body like that?
“Sam he’s—“
”I know,” Colby laughed. “It’s okay.”
“How do you know?”
”Look at him,” he laughed. “He would have told us to fuck off by now.” I don’t know why I would ever question Colby’s judgment of Sam. He knew him like he knew himself; I should have known they could communicate without even speaking at this point.
”It—It's okay,” Sam choked out. “Fuck—Colby, fuck her.”
I swore I met god from the sound of those words on his wet tongue.
A string of inaudible expletives rushed from Colby's mouth as he crawled up to eye level with me.
And he couldn't even wait.
He pulled himself from his underwear instead of taking them off, and my head tossed back when his wet tip slipped across me. My hands grappled for anything to hold on to for support. I couldn't contain myself or control my movements, not when Colby felt like heaven incarnate.
Sam's hand came up and pinned my wrist to the pillow next to my head. I whined for release but didn't do a good enough job escaping his grasp; his fingers slid up and interlocked with mine.
“Can I? Inside you?” Colby gasped.
“Inside me, fill me up please. I need—You know how bad I—”
“I know, I know,” he groaned before pushing himself fully in.
A moan punched out of me and I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. Sam moaned as well and held my hand tighter.
And as Colby fucked me like we would have no other chance, Sam thrusted into the bedding and pushed his hip against mine.
“Feel—Oh my god you feel better than I imagined,” Colby moaned.
“You imagined me?”
“No shit,” Sam bit back in spite. Colby only moaned louder and shoved my knees back further. My moans lifted to nearly a scream and Colby clasped his hand around my throat.
“Sh, only I can hear you, baby.”
“And Sam, right?”
“Fuck,” Colby laughed. Maybe I couldn't see him but I heard the blush. “Only if you can be good for him too.”
“I can be good,” I whined. Sam moaned and his hip pushed tighter into mine.
“Let go Sam—My hand, let go,” I forced out through the moans, and he did. Immediately I lowered my hand in between us and slipped it under him.
“Oh shit!” He cried and allowed me to wedge my way in between the bed and his insanely wet arousal. Between my sweat covering my skin alongside Colby’s and our pre-come saturating our legs and sheet, I should have felt disgusted. But it was heaven on earth. I wanted to drown in them. “Oh my god, you'll make me cum so fast,” Sam gasped into the pillow.
“You're doing so good,” Colby's moan turned into a laugh. “Like holy shit—I'm fucking close too.”
“Harder, please Colby, fuck me harder,” I whined and his head tossed back. His skin slipped under my nails from the sweat so I couldn't leave marks so I yanked him down by the neck. His hand supported himself next to my head and he moaned as I sucked harsh bruises into his collarbone.
And I pushed my hand tighter against Sam. His underwear were soaked and I just needed a little more—
“Oh—Oh my god yes, yes, yes—” Sam moaned as I shoved my hand in his underwear. I stroked him in time with his thrusts and there was something about the way his hips shook that ingrained in my mind.
Colby gouged his fingers into the thick of my thighs and I couldn't help but hope there were marks for me to fawn over in the morning. And it was his turn.
He leaned over me, and with his free hand, he held the side of my neck and kissed me into the pillows. I couldn't breathe between his violent thrusts and with his intoxicating taste in my throat, I let go of my body and let the boys fully take over it.
Then another arm came up and pulled my leg back.
“Sam—” I gasped his name when he inserted his arm under my leg between me and Colby. A gasp expelled from my used throat when he swirled his fingers against me. “Shit! There, there like that, oh my god!” I all but screamed.
“Oh fuck yeah, does it feel good baby?” Colby moaned. “Does it take both of us to please you, make you feel good?”
“Please! I'm so—”
“Holy shit, the rem pod!” Sam groaned.
And he was right.
I opened my eyes to find blue and red lights flickering in the dark abyss of a room and a loud shrill combined with our moans. Of course he was even prettier fucked out of his mind. Colby's hair stuck in every direction, and his lips parted in pleasure so I could see the gleam of saliva on his tongue. Fuck, I wanted him inside of me. Not even if he curled up in my bones would he be close enough.
“What—What time is it?” Colby breathlessly tried to ask in a serious tone.
Of course they would still be on the grind for work while fucking my brains out.
Sam moaned as he leaned and grabbed his phone—
“Holy fucking shit no way; it's 3:33am now 3:34.”
“Jesus, fuck,” Colby gasped. I didn't give a fuck. I needed him deeper, closer.
“More please—”
“So needy, baby. Oh my god. Want more? Alright, let me—” Colby rose to his knees and pushed my thighs back again. “Sam finger her, use your fingers, yeah like that.”
My gasp caught in my throat when Sam slipped his fingers lower and joined Colby inside of me. This time I think I blacked out but I'm not sure; when I open my eyes, my tears blur what little exposure the rem pod lights give us. Colby’s blue hued face gleamed back at me blurry and Sam's moans flooded my side.
“I'm cumming—” I whined. Colby nodded his head furiously.
“Shit yeah, cum—cum for us,” he praised. And Sam fucked his fingers deeper and finally found that spot inside of me—
My orgasm crashed into me before I could prepare myself and I closed my eyes and allowed the pleasure to take me.
Sam's moan was next, and I felt him cover us with his warm fluid. I made sure I stroked him harder until his hips painfully pinned my hand down and rendered it unable to move. His moans turned into whines from overstimulation and that was when Colby broke as well.
“I'm—Holy shit I'm going to—”
“Fill me, Colby. Please I need your cum. Cum inside of—” I barely finished my sentence before he choked out a loud moan as well. With my name on his lips, I swore I could have finished again and again, nevermind Sam's fingers that still harshly worked me.
It took a second or two and then Colby cried out with overstimulation.
“Sam—” he gasped, but as he pulled out, Sam got up to his knees and pinned me down.
“Please, please, please! It's so much!”
“Let go, baby. Let go when you need to—”
“Sam! Oh my god—”
Another wave of pleasure drowned me and I held onto his other arm as he fingered me through the intensity of it all. After another few seconds, he pulled his dripping hand away. My entire body violently shook as I watched a cup full of my fluids and Colby's release drip from his hand.
“Holy shit, you're so damn hot,” Colby laughed as he leaned back over me and kissed me again. He wiped the tears from my face.
It took a few moments.
For us to come back to ourselves, find our wits again.
The rem pod never stopped.
Sam walked to the bathroom to clean up since he was the dirtiest.
“Holy shit, what pervy ghosts—”
The rem pod stopped.
“No fucking way,” Colby burst out laughing and I covered my face with my arms. “Stop,” he laughed and pulled my arms back. “How can you blame them? You're so hot, so sexy, the most beautiful thing—”
“Alright ew, get a room,” Sam jeered from the bathroom.
“You're judging as if you didn't just finger her with my dick on your hand—”
“Alright I didn't think you'd say anything about that.”
“Aw, what, are you embarrassed that you touched his dick for the first time?” I teased.
“And it's the fucking last time too; that was disgusting,” Sam complained as he washed his hands harsher.
“I would have expected it to definitely not be the first time—”
“Shut the hell up,” Colby laughed. “Sam’s just judging me for telling you how hot you are, how beautiful and good you are—” I watched a sliver of Sam's reflection in the mirror as he smiled and shook his head. “—How much I love you.”
My stomach dropped and my eyes looked straight to Colby. The bathroom orange light drenched his face with an overwhelming warmth I wanted to swim in.
“Colby—” He held my face in his hands. “Love you.” The sentence only just fell from my lips before his met mine.
“Okay, okay,” Sam said. “There's all the time in the world for the lovey stuff after I leave.”
“And this is the only time you'll be here for this,” Colby snapped back. My eyes widened. I didn't anticipate Colby's genuine hostility towards his best friend over me.
“Colby,” Sam laughed. “I know. Obviously I know: she's been all yours from the start.”
“What the hell?” I shrieked. “Am I the only one who knows about this?” The two burst out laughing but not without a thick blush on Colby's already flared cheeks.
“Seems like it,” Sam laughed as he pulled on fresh underwear and clothes.
“Okay,” Colby sighed. I gasped as his arms tucked under my worn out body. “Let's clean up so we can actually have a good sleep.”
I held onto him as he carried me to the bathroom. He turned on the shower as I pulled my hair back to keep it from getting wet.
“Oh my—” He gasped a laugh when he looked in the mirror. Love bites lined his collarbones and slipped down his chest. “How are you so damn good at that?”
“I don't know, I guess you bring out the worst in me.”
“You have to be careful because I'll bite you back.”
“Oh yeah? Maybe you should or else you're all talk and no bite—Ah!” With that coy smile he slapped my ass and pushed me towards the shower.
“Get in the damn water, you're dripping cum everywhere.”
I couldn't open my mouth as Colby dropped to his knees in front of me. Ever so gently, his hands cleaned my skin with soft body wash until I was clean and smelled like myself again. He kissed my skin and trailed up my thigh.
“Don’t,” I sighed as I brushed his hair back. It was soaked from being directly under the water. He looked up at me darkly; eyes bright blue again.
“Can't wait until we go home.”
“And why's that?”
“Then I can finally have you in my bed like I've always wanted.”
“Colby is—” My tongue tied in my throat as the bashful smile fell. My heart slowed. I licked my lips. He stood to his feet. “—is that something you've wanted? Permanently?”
A slow nod from him had never felt this way before.
“I've wanted you, permanently.”
“Let me go home with you then.” My arms wrapped around his neck. “I've wanted to be yours forever by now.”
And he tossed his head back into the water with a wide smile.
“Fucking finally.”
The morning wasn’t kind.
The sunlight bit at our sensitive eyes, with zero remorse, as we tried to get ourselves together and ready for check out. We all were spent. Now it was time for a long—long—break in our own beds.
When we made it to the lobby, it took all but three seconds for the other two guys to shine widened shocked eyes back at us. Of course I messed up; I miscalculated the height of Colby’s neckline last night, but could anyone blame me?
”Colby—You—Last night?” Nate gasped. They looked at me.
“I—“
”Sam?” Nate looked at him. His face flushed pink as a boyish smile pulled at his lips.
“Hey now,” his hands rose in self defense. “It wasn’t me and it’s not happening again if you really want to know.” Colby tried his best to hide a wide smile, but as he hooked his arm around my neck, he broke a laugh.
”Jesus Christ.”
A/N: I am new here—to Tumblr (other than my account from 2013-2016 that popped off real hard rip)—and also Sam and Colby. I write predominately one shots for Dream Team, Corpse Husband, and Sam and Colby now. I dumped all my works on Wattpad—easy reads—and I got up to 3 Million reads on my Corpse Husband one shot collection, but Wattpad smote that shit.
Request anything—outside of my listed interests, I’m open to Jake Webber and Johnnie Guilbert but I don’t know much about them—and I will write it. I focus on 18+ writing so request anything in your wildest dreams, and if it somehow is too wild for me, I will let you know (but that has yet to happen).
Love, Rosie
#sam and colby#colby brock#sam golbach#solby#colby brock smut#colby x reader#colby brock x reader#minors dni#18+ only
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friends — lip gallagher x reader
and what the hell were we?
tell me we weren't just friends
this doesn't make much sense
☄. *. ⋆
content warnings and genre: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking, sex, nudity, slut-shaming, arguing, fighting — smut, angst, fluff
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
synopsis: going from the best of friends to the best of friends with benefits shouldn't be a problem—at least, not until one starts to catch feelings for the other
✧.*
the southside streets were a tapestry of dimly lit alleyways and faded dreams. you found yourself perched on the stoop of the gallagher house, a half-empty beer bottle in your hand. the night was alive with whispers of city life, the distant sounds of sirens and laughter merging into a symphony of chaos. the air carried the sweet tang of uncertainty, a reminder that anything could happen in these streets.
lip gallagher, a mix of charm and raw edges, emerged from the house. his presence was magnetic, drawing you in with a lopsided grin that spoke of countless adventures. “fancy seeing you here,” he remarked, his voice a cocktail of amusement and intrigue.
“fate or coincidence, you decide,” you shot back, the corner of your lips curling into a playful smile. this was your ritual, a dance that had become second nature between you two.
he leaned against the porch railing, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that felt more intimate than accidental. the conversation flowed effortlessly, a rhythm that only the two of you understood. stories of the latest flings and mishaps unfolded, the honesty between you a testament to a connection that ran deeper than the surface.
as the night stretched on, the dialogue tiptoed along the line between flirtation and confession. every word carried a weight of promise and potential, each laugh a step closer to crossing a boundary that neither of you had dared to name.
lip's gaze held a mixture of challenge and curiosity, his words dipped in a shade of daring. “so, what's the most daring thing you've done lately?” he asked, his eyes never leaving yours.
a smirk tugged at your lips, a telltale sign that you were about to unveil a carefully guarded secret. “well,” you began, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, “i may or may not have found myself in a rather intriguing situation with a certain gallagher.”
His eyebrows arched, his mask of nonchalance slipping just a fraction. “oh, really? do tell.”
you leaned in, your breath mingling with his as you whispered your confession. “let's just say, friends with benefits has taken on a whole new meaning.”
his laughter was a melody that echoed through the night, a mixture of surprise and something else that flickered in his eyes. “you're something else, you know that?” the unspoken truth hung between you, the acknowledgment that this game you were playing had stakes neither of you had anticipated. but as the night drew on, the allure of the unknown kept you tethered to the porch, the city's heartbeat matching your own.
it only took a second for him to close the gap between your lips. the kiss was a collision of pent-up tension and unspoken desires, a fusion of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. his lips were warm against yours, a promise of more to come, as if the touch of his mouth held the answers to questions you hadn't even asked.
the world around you seemed to fade into the background, the distant city noises reduced to a gentle hum. all that mattered was the taste of him, the sensation of his fingers tangling in your hair, his body pressed against yours. as the kiss deepened, so did the complexity of the emotions it unearthed. It was more than just a physical connection; it was a revelation of the layers you'd both been hiding. the hands that had been exploratory in their touch grew steadier, more purposeful, as if mapping out the contours of a future neither of you had planned for.
when the kiss finally broke, you were left breathless, the weight of what had just transpired settling between you like a secret too heavy to bear. lip's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of uncertainty and longing, a reflection of the storm that raged within him. “we should probably go back inside,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine.
“probably,” you agreed, though neither of you moved. the unspoken words hung between you as he smashed his lips into yours once more, the kiss more feverish than ever.
his fingers trailed along the fabric of your shirt, dipping under the hem as he tugged on it aggressively. you smiled into the kiss, complying as you helped him out, the shirt landing on the floor beneath your feet. the air felt electric, every touch igniting a spark that set your senses ablaze. lip's touch was both urgent and tender, his hands mapping the expanse of your skin as if committing every inch to memory. the porch became a canvas for a connection that had transcended its boundaries, each brush of skin a brushstroke in a masterpiece of vulnerability. as his fingers danced along your spine, you leaned into his touch, savoring the way his breath hitched when you traced the contours of his chest. the unspoken words that had lingered between you now found their voice in the language of touch and sensation.
his lips found your neck, trailing soft kisses that sent ripples of pleasure through you. the world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of stolen intimacy. the night held its breath, as if aware of the gravity of this moment, of how it would reshape the landscape of your connection. “really need this,” he murmured into your neck, his veiny hands finding their way onto your chest, gripping at your boobs with an aggression that made you moan. “had such a shitty fuckin' day.”
you couldn't help but smile as you pushed his hands farther into your tits, giving him all the leverage he needed to grope them harder, unclipping your bra before letting his mouth help him out. “well, what are best friends for?”
he let his teeth sink into your nipples, tongue circling the hardened buds as you shivered under his touch. you were busy yourself, fingers eagerly pulling his jeans down, boxers catching up to them in an instant. you were both bare, nothing you hadn't seen before—but it never got old. his hands traced your toned stomach, rubbing soothing circles into your hipbones before making their way south.
the sensation in his dick became even more unbearable as he ran a sole finger along your slit, picking up all the moisture you had in store for him.
“so fucking wet,” he groaned, admiring the way your sweet slick dripped onto his fingers. “all of this for me?” you nodded in response, your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you pushed upwards, encouraging him to go further. you didn't have to tell him twice, his index finger pushing its way into you, meaty walls clenching in an instant. you couldn't help but moan, his finger long and sturdy, hitting you where you needed it to.
“let's see how well you take them tonight,” he mused, his pace quickening as the tip of his finger brushed against your sweet spot. you find yourself with your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on his curly locks. he pushed a second finger into you, the burning pain of being stretched out so nicely clashing with overwhelming pleasure. in no time, he had pushed a third finger into you, all three mercilessly pounding inside of you, curling and twisting so that he could prepare you for a bigger treat. “that's a good girl.”
when he slid his fingers out, you whined at the emptyness. he pressed his lips to yours once more, fingers soaked with your arousal. you kissed him back just as hard, just as needy as he trailed his wet fingers up your body, caressing your stomach, tits and neck—before he pulled away, substituting his lips with his fingers. you obliged at the silent demand, swollen lips parted to make way for his thick fingers. he shoved them in carelessly, watching you suck on your own juices to clean him up. he groaned at the sight of you all pretty and desperate for him, he couldn't hold out any longer.
you had your face propped up on your elbows, back arched for him with your ass in his face. he brought down his hand against the meat of your ass harshly, watching it riccochet and bounce back. you mewled at the stinging sensation it left behind as you pushed up against him, eager for another taste. he smirked, knowing you were just as desperate as he was.
when you felt the tip brush past your walls, there was no shutting you up. of course, you've had countless encounters like this with your best friend, and you've seen a considerable amount of dicks in your life—but nothing could compare to him, nothing could make you get bored with him. you let out a cry of ecstasy once he pushed himself in balls-deep, the feeling making you tense up completely.
“so fucking big,” you purred, his hands gripping onto your ass for leverage. “can't take it.” the grip on your ass intensified as he leaned down to your ear, dick pushing into you even deeper than before.
“oh, yes you fucking will,” he argued, hot breath fanning your lobe. “gonna stay there and let me use this pussy like a good little bitch.”
you felt yourself clench around him at his degrading words, a string of disgusting moans leaving your mouth as he fucked you—and he fucked you good. he made sure you felt the way every vein pressed against your walls, the way his tip cruelly slammed against your cervix, the way his balls would slap your ass roughly. neither of you were there to make love—you were there to fuck. you were there to let loose and let go of your stressful issues, and being best friends, you were determined to help each other out.
when he came, he didn't do it quietly. one hand was gripping at the flesh on your ass, sure to leave marks. the other was in your hair, pulling your head towards him while he fucked you, longing to watch how your eyes rolled back at the brutal pleasure. he came with a loud groan, dumping his cum into you, along with the problems the day had in store for him. you followed just a few seconds after, tears rolling down your cheeks as you soaked him, the nirvana positively ecstatic.
“i'm gonna get going,” you breathed out, quick to get back onto your feet after coming down from your high. lip shot you a look as he tucked his elbows behind his head. “no, you're not,” he countered with a yawn. “you're gonna get us some beer and stay over so we can talk about shit.”
the low hum of the room was accompanied by the afterglow of your connection, the air still heavy with the intimacy you'd shared. with a reluctant nod, you slipped into your discarded clothes and made your way to the small kitchen, returning shortly with a couple of cold beers. you settled back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you handed lip a beer. the cans clinked together in a silent toast as you both took a sip, the casual gesture feeling strangely intimate after what had transpired between you.
“so, what's on your mind?” lip asked, his gaze fixed on the ceiling but his attention clearly focused on you. you took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “you remember that guy from our school, sam?”
lip's eyebrows furrowed as he turned his head to look at you. “oh, yeah. captain of the football team, real dick.”
“yeah,” you confirmed, your fingers tracing the rim of the beer can. “we were fucking for a while, but it kind of fizzled out.”
lip's expression was a mixture of curiosity and concern. “what happened?” you shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “just the usual stuff. real small dick.”
silence hung in the air, a bridge between what was said and what was left unsaid before you both broke into laughter. it was your turn to ask, “what about you?”
lip's lips quirked into a wry smile. “my sexcapades aren't as bad as yours,” he took a long sip of his beer before continuing. “well, you remember mandy milkovich?” your heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name, though you tried your best to hide it. it was nothing personal with her, she was just a huge cunt. “oh, yeah. real bitch.”
lip's gaze was distant, as if he were recounting a distant memory. “fucked her longer than i counted for, real intense.”
“intense how?” you couldn't help but ask, your curiosity piqued. he let out a soft chuckle. “mandy's got this way of getting under your skin, you know? we were good together, but then we weren't. she wanted more than i was willing to give at the time.”
the honesty in his voice resonated with you, reminding you that the emotions you'd been navigating weren't exclusive to you alone. as you continued to share stories, both trivial and significant, the barriers that had once separated you seemed to crumble, replaced by a newfound understanding of each other's vulnerabilities.
the hours slipped away in a haze of laughter and candid conversation, the connection between you growing deeper with every word exchanged. it was a respite from the chaos of the world, a haven where feelings could be acknowledged without judgment.
eventually, as the night gave way to the early hours of the morning, the two of you lay side by side, the beer cans empty and discarded. the moment was a tranquil pause in a story that had become increasingly complicated, a pause that allowed you to savor the newfound intimacy that had emerged from the ashes of your casual arrangement.
the morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow across lip's disheveled room. groggily, he rubbed his eyes and shifted, only to find an empty space beside him. confusion settled in as he searched for any sign of you, his mind racing through fragmented memories of the night before.
had you left? or maybe you'd ended up in someone else's bed? of course you left. the thought gnawed at him, igniting an unsettling fire of emotions he wasn't prepared for. lip's fingers brushed against his temple as he attempted to piece together the events of the previous night, the truth feeling elusive.
days turned into a slow build-up of anticipation and anxiety. the absence of your usual banter and casual encounters weighed heavily on him. the evening approached, and you had found yourself at the bar, nursing a drink and trying to settle in for a night of fun you'd been anticipating the past dew days.
as the hours ticked by, a vision of confidence and allure. the room seemed to shift its focus to you, a magnetic force that drew glances from all directions. men couldn't resist approaching, their intentions clear, but their advances met with a firm dismissal.
at the bar, kevin watched with amusement, recognizing the game you were playing. with a sly grin, he intercepted a particularly persistent suitor, delivering a curt “fuck off,” that sent a clear message. unbeknownst to the onlookers, the stage was set, and the tension was building, like the calm before a storm.
the whispers among the patrons painted a picture of longing. it seemed like you were waiting for someone, and in their minds, that someone was lip gallagher. expectation hung in the air like a palpable thread, weaving through the dimly lit space as the night deepened.
as the door swung open, a collective breath held, only to release in a surprised murmur. it wasn't lip who stepped in, but carl, his presence strikingly magnetic. a slow grin curled on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the role he was about to play.
his entrance was like a bolt of electricity, charging the atmosphere with an undeniable energy. his eyes locked onto yours from across the room, a silent invitation that you couldn't resist. with a smirk, he made his way over, sliding onto the barstool beside you.
“looks like you really showed up,” he drawled, his tone dripping with flirtatious charm. you laughed, a mixture of amusement and anticipation. “you gave me a reason to.”
he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “good, because we've got shit in store for tonight.”
the double entendre hung in the air, and a shiver ran down your spine. “is that so?” you teased, meeting his gaze with a challenge. carl's hand found its way to your thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. “absolutely, only if you can take it.” you and carl have known each other as long as you and lip have—as long as you and all the gallaghers have. granted, none of you were as close as you and lip were, but carl wanted nothing more than to form a close bond of hia own with you.
the playful glint in his eyes told you he had no intentions of keeping that promise. as the night wore on and drinks flowed, the conversation between you grew more intimate.
“you always knew how to keep things interesting,” you mused, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass. carl's foot brushed against yours under the bar, a subtle touch that spoke volumes. “life's too short for anything less.”
the chemistry between you was undeniable, each word and gesture a part of an intricate dance. his laughter mixed with yours, creating a bubble of shared secrets and hidden desires.
leaning in, he whispered, “you have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this.” your breath caught in your throat as his lips grazed your earlobe. “oh, really? and what exactly have you been looking forward to?”
carl's fingers traced a path along your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. ”getting to know you better. much, much better.“ the words hung in the air, heavy with implication. the bar seemed to fade away as the night deepened, leaving only the electric connection between you and him. the chemistry crackled, a tantalizing push and pull that was impossible to ignore. the bar buzzed with activity, but your focus was solely on each other. With every touch, every whispered promise, the tension between you grew, until it became a force that couldn't be contained.
when he took you home, everybody was asleep. everybody, except for lip, who was nowhere to be found. you chose not to ask questions and ignore the feeling that grew in your chest. you knew he was out elsewhere, possibly in someone else's bed, but you didn't care. why would you? you focused on carl, on the way you were straddling his lap on his bed, your bodies closer than ever. his fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch gentle yet charged with an electric undercurrent. the weight of unspoken words hung in the air, but there was no need for explanations.
his breath mingled with yours, a rhythmic symphony that seemed to echo the racing of your hearts. the chemistry between you crackled like electricity, each touch igniting a wildfire that spread through every nerve ending. his lips brushed against yours, a soft tease that sent tremors of longing through you.
“you drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky whisper that seemed to send vibrations straight to your core. a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “and what are you planning to do about it?”
carl's hands found their way to your hips, his touch possessive yet tender. “i think you already know,” he replied, his gaze holding a promise that was impossible to ignore. the barriers that had once separated you from this moment felt like distant memories. in the dim light, the layers of pretense were shed, leaving only raw desire and the unspoken connection that bound you together.
as your lips met in a hungry kiss, the world seemed to fall away. the sensation of his mouth against yours was intoxicating, a heady mixture of need and vulnerability. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as the kiss deepened, a silent exchange of emotions too complex to put into words.
in that moment, you chose to let go of the questions that had been nagging at the back of your mind. the feeling that had grown in your chest, a mixture of unease and longing, was pushed aside in favor of the intoxicating present. you straddled the line between reality and desire, a place where the only thing that mattered was the connection between you and him.
“you gallaghers sure know what you're doing,” you breathed out in exasperation. your body was pressed real tight against his, tits spilling out of the top of your dress against his chest—he couldn't look away. the bulge in his jeans rubbed against your lace panties from under your dress, soft moans leaving your mouths.
after the words left your mouth, he was quick to flip you over. “talking about lip, aren't you?” you couldn't form a response, only being able to nod as he kissed your neck. “he's a real cynic. forget about him, at least for tonight.”
it was easier said than done.
the first crack of dawn filtered through the windows, casting a pale glow across the room as you stirred from your sleep. you were naked next to carl, his arm placed messily against your tits due to the uncomfortable sleeping position. the hushed rustle of clothing and the creak of the bed were your attempt to leave without disturbing anyone, especially carl, but just as you were about to slip out, your heart stopped.
there, standing in the doorway, was lip, his eyes locked onto you with a mixture of shock and anger.
time seemed to stand still as you both stared at each other, a tense silence enveloping the room. then, the dam broke, and lip's anger burst forth like a storm unleashed. his voice was a roar, laughter hysterical, his words a torrent of rage as he accused you of betraying him with his own brother.
“you really couldn't help yourself, could you?” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “fucking around with carl? are you that desperate?”
the accusation hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, a fiery retort on your lips. “don't you dare act like you have any right to be angry, i get to fuck who i want, lip.”
the room became a battlefield, words like weapons as you hurled accusations at each other. the tension that had been building between you for so long finally exploded, the frustration and hurt pouring out in a torrent of anger. objects were knocked off surfaces, the crash of shattered glass punctuating the intensity of the argument. it filled you with fury, how he thought he had any right to be angry at you, despite your agreement.
lip's face contorted in a mix of disbelief and fury. “you think that gives you the right to fuck my brother? to act like nothing matters?”
“nothing does matter,” you yelled back, your voice laced with desperation. “we had an arrangement, lip, and you knew exactly what you were getting into. don't play the victim now.”
the fight raged on, a storm of emotions that neither of you could control. the boundaries you had carefully established had crumbled, leaving you both exposed and vulnerable. the accusations and hurtful words flew like daggers, each one cutting deeper than the last.
“whore around all you want,” his voice cracked as he spit the words out, right in your face. “just spread your poison somewhere else.”
eventually, the anger began to subside, replaced by a heavy silence. panting, your chests heaved as you glared at each other, the residue of the fight hanging in the air like a bitter taste. with a final, seething look, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, retreating from the chaos you had unleashed.
as you left the house and retreated back to the familiarity of your own space, a mix of emotions swirled within you. the confrontation had left scars, wounds that ran deeper than the surface. the lines had been crossed, the arrangement shattered, and the tangled mess of emotions was impossible to ignore.
the sun painted your room in gentle hues of gold as you slept, oblivious to the turmoil that had transpired the day before. unbeknownst to you, lip stood outside your window, a conflicted figure bathed in the soft light. the memory of you, peacefully asleep, stirred something within him, a mixture of regret and longing.
he knew he had to make things right. climbing onto the windowsill with a mix of determination and trepidation, he moved silently, careful not to wake you. his eyes lingered on your peaceful face, the lines of your features softened in slumber. his fingers traced the curve of your cheek, the touch featherlight as he stroked your skin. regret and tenderness intertwined as he watched you, his heart heavy with the weight of his emotions. he had to apologize, to make amends for the pain he had caused.
and then, your eyes fluttered open, startled by his presence. the initial confusion in your gaze gave way to surprise and a hint of vulnerability. before you could react, he spoke, his voice a quiet confession.
“i'm sorry,” he whispered, his gaze locked onto yours. “i let my jealousy get the best of me. it wasn't fair to you.”
the sincerity in his voice struck a chord within you, and as you took in his remorseful expression, the tension from the previous day seemed to fade away. you shifted in your bed, sitting up and giving him space to come in.
"i appreciate your honesty," you replied softly, your voice carrying a mix of caution and warmth. "but we can't keep going like this, lip. we need boundaries."
he nodded, understanding in his eyes. “you're right. i messed up, and i don't want to lose you.”
the vulnerability in his admission resonated with you, and you found yourself considering the possibility of something more. it was a risky leap, but the connection between you was undeniable.
with a determined glint in his eyes, lip reached out to take your hand. “i wanna try something different. something real. can we give this a shot?”
the air seemed to hang heavy with the weight of his question, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw a genuine desire for change. a flicker of hope ignited within you, and you found yourself nodding slowly.
“let's take it one step at a time,” you replied, your voice steady. “but we need ground rules, lip. no more secrets, no more jealousy. just honesty.”
he nodded fervently, a renewed determination in his expression. and so, as the light bathed the room, you and lip embarked on a new chapter, one that held the promise of something deeper and more meaningful.
#shameless#lip gallagher#lip x reader#lip gallagher x reader#lip gallagher x you#lip gallagher smut#lip gallagher angst#lip gallagher fluff#carl gallagher x reader#carl x reader#carl gallagher#carl gallagher smut
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Winner takes all ! and he wins you
the awaited part 3 is here, thank you all for the support means a lot seeing you guys like and reblog this series ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
i’m pretty attached to this series so tell me if you guys want little blurbs or an epilogue about Veritas and his prize (you ♡)
Part 1 - Part 2
support me on ko-fi╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
There’s something so exciting about the fact that anything and everything could go wrong but somehow the endless possibilities leave you wanting, that burst of adrenaline you love so much is here right before your eyes
The red velvet table accessorised by casino chips of different colours, the pleasing sound of cards being shuffled, oh nothing could get you out of this sense of joy, except there is this certain Doctor who stood behind you, leaning close beside your ear
“Can’t you just sit on the couch behind me ?, you’re distracting me here,” you mutter as you feel his warm breath fanning your already hot neck
You swear you could feel his lips turned into a smirk as he answers you, “The game has not started yet, so I still have some time to guide you,” his stern voice now turns calm and soothing, perhaps to ease your mind a little
But how could you be more at ease when you’re both so close to each other !, one of his hands rests on the table while the other holds your chair. How will you focus on the game when the sight in front of you is his toned forearm decorated beautifully with veins, not to mention his hand beautifully sculpted adorned with his signature doctoral ring
Oh no !, you actually might lose if he spends any more time behind you. You suddenly snap back into reality when the casino owner, Mr. Cliff seat on the chair before you, accompanied by that eerie smile
“Well then have you drafted the contract ?,” he asks as he folds his arm and rests his weight back towards a chair that’s befitting for a king
Ratio summons the hologram contract and slides it across the table, “Feel free to read through the 57 pages of the contract to revise our agreement before signing it,” he states in a cold manner
Okay, now you feel sceptical over this contract, because usually you only need at least one page or perhaps five pages maximum. First what the hell did he put on those pages, second how the hell he could write that contract in approximately 30 minutes ?!?
“You put some bullshit terms in that contract didn’t you ?,” you whisper to Ratio while watching Mr. Cliff thoroughly skim through the pages he provided him with
“If you know the truth it’ll make you an accomplice so I can’t disclose anything for now,” he teases, ruffling your hair before walking towards Mr. Cliff to assist him in ‘understanding’ the contents of the contract
You groan as you try to brush through your now messy hair, you finish grooming yourself at the same time Mr. Cliff signs the contract, “Sign your name sweetheart,” he loudly chuckles as he slides back the hologram
“Don’t mind if I do,” you cheekily reply as you swiftly sign your name, once your name is on the contract the hologram automatically dissipates into thin air, which means that it’s already been approved and signed by the higher-ups
Ratio walks back towards your side of the table with a huge grin, oh he clearly puts insurance for you in that contract, well you appreciate his thoughtfulness but you won’t need it !
“Well then shall we begin sir ?,” you roll your sleeves as you await Mr Cliff’s response, with Ratio standing by your side you feel more motivated than before, It’s time to impress that stern partner of yours
“Do you always need your dog on a leash beside you ?” Mr Cliff scoffs as he eyes Ratio up and down, the fact that he calls your supervisor your dog on a leash turns you red and you slowly turn your head up to see ‘your dog’s’ face
Oh Aeons above please don’t let Ratio kills this man-
Ratio’s eyes squint as his lips twitch in disgust, before he can open his mouth and blow this whole deal out the window you quickly stand up from your seat to calm him down “Ratio, just sit back at the couch okay ?,” you practically beg, your voice laced with honey and desperation
Ratio merely scoffs before turning around and seat on the couch behind you, even though he’s quite annoyed at Mr Cliff, he knows that that foul man is insecure about himself, it’s evident that he’s actually jealous of Ratio and that comes naturally to a person with both unparalleled beauty and intelligence
You’re quick to focus back on the game at hand, you’re playing poker naturally and of course, you’re confident in your ability to win, you’re not only lucky but also cunning that’s the fruit of losing countless bets with Aventurine, you have a 95% chance of winning while playing with others but with Aventurine….
You still don’t know how the hell he gets that good, but the apprentice would never try to dethrone their master of course, in which case you just study the little things Aventurine does and explicitly teach you
As you get lost in nostalgia the dealer starts to shuffle the deck, it seems that he used a new card which makes it all the more interesting, it’s easier for you to predict your card and your opponents' card, well it is true you have a stroke of benevolent luck but luck doesn’t always cut it, so you turn into your memory and your card counting skills, you could get ban from casinos if they knew you can count cards
Well Mr Cliff seems to look down upon you, it’s in his right to do so since he’s one of the top players on Penacony, well you on the other hand are an informal apprentice of one of the best gamblers in the entire galaxy, you’re confident that Mr Cliff would quiver in fear if you spoke Aventurine’s name
“You seem awfully confident little lady,” Mr Cliff snickers as the dealer hands your cards, well you were confident before but now you’re well past that, Ace of Hearts and King of Hearts, your luck never ceases to surprise, Ratio took notice in your behaviour
You lean back towards your chair, your legs crossed. At that point he knew that you were confident with your hand, “Well let’s just say I’m having a good day today,” you smile
Mr Cliff also smiles, he starts off the game by betting his chips quite high, if you’re not mistaken this could indicate that he also has a good hand but you’re confident that is not as good as yours, so you raise the bet, not wanting to lose in the game of wits
“Well you’re raising quite fast sweetheart, you sure you wanna do that ?,” he chuckles, this man has great confidence in his cards huh ?, you know very well he’s trying to get under your skin, but to be frank only Aventurine manage to do so by his sarcastic comments
“What ?, you scared of me ~” you laugh, which seems to rile him up judging by how he loosens his tie. You swear you could hear Ratio curse behind you, he should loosen up a little since you’re practically going to win this
He scoffs as he asks the dealer to quickly reveal the three cards in the middle of the table, as the cards reveal itself, your face turns sour, well your lips do pout while the inside of your mind you rejoice, but you can’t show what to Mr Cliff. “What’s wrong little girl?” Mr Cliff asks his voice laced with faux empathy
“Nothing’s wrong,” you reply shortly, this you stage your set and you’re confident that Mr Cliff would have a straight flush on his hands, but what you don’t know is Ratio is clenching his fist tight behind you, he seems to believe your act
The game continues until it is time to place your final bet, Mr Cliff goes all in to end it all and of course now is the time for you to change your pitiful act, with a huge grin you push all of your chips to the middle of the table, “All in !” Mr Cliff is shocked by your sudden confidence, it’s like your whole being changed from hunching your back towards now looking down on him, your eyes glint mischievously
“Hah! prideful brat,” he scoffs angrily as he throws his card to the table to reveal a straight flush, he stands up from the table and cups your cheeks, “You’re mine now,”
Before you can reveal your hand Ratio stands and reaches for Mr Cliff’s hand pulling it swiftly to his back and pushing him down to the table, you’re shocked with the sudden move but take this to your advantage
You lean down to whisper to Mr Cliff’s ears, “I’m afraid your casino is mine,” you throw your card at his face, revealing a royal flush
Mr Cliff lost you and his casino and of course, you win his casino and unbeknownst to you, you also win Ratio’s heart. “W-what !, you’re fucking cheating that’s why this bastard is ughh!,” Before continuing his words ratio pushes Mr Cliff’s head to the table, “Please refrain from uttering foolish accusations or else-” Okay Ratio might have a knack for belittling others verbally but he never actually smack someone’s head ?!?
Somehow the sight of his hair draping down, covering the menacing glow in his eyes with his teeth gritted and his arms fully in display showcasing the strength he rarely used, that sight yes you need to take a picture-
You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture, “What the fuck?!?,” Mr Cliffs yells which is replied to by Ratio twisting his hand, is it bad that you find the sight hot ?, “I know I look completely out of character but really ? Taking a picture of me, it seems that you want to immortalised the look on my face when I’m jealous,” he sighs as he summons the contract with his free hand
“Ahahaha, now I believe we have a business to sort out,” you try to deflect the conversation by quickly taking the holo-contract and signing your name again, but Mr Cliff still doesn’t want to sign forcing Ratio to drag his fingers and press it on the screen to print out his thumbprints, “It was nice having business with you,” you smile as you pat Mr Cliff’s head that’s currently forced down towards the table because of Ratio
Without much thought you quickly step outside of the private room to call cooperate about the success leaving Ratio alone with Mr Cliff, Ratio leans down pressing his hand on Mr Cliff’s back before whispering, “If I see your pathetic self dare to even gaze upon her I will do just more than restraining you if you plan to harm her just know that I could easily break this feeble neck of yours or perhaps I should do so to prevent you from having the mere thought-“
“NO NO NO! I SWEAR ON MY LIFE THAT I WILL NOT HARM OR EVEN LOOK AT HER,” Mr Cliff yells as he struggles to set himself free, Ratio simply nods before smashing his head on the table, effectively knocking him out
“Hmm how’s Mr Cliff ?” you ask Ratio as he closes the door and walks towards you, “He’s still dealing with his loss but don’t worry he’s fine,” he curtly replies, he looks at your face reading your overjoyed expression
“No scolding today ?,” you lightly chuckle noticing that he’s uncannily silent, he just scoffs as he ruffles your hair it seems that he’s thoroughly impressed, “No scolding just admiration, perhaps I should reward you hmm ?,” he smiles as he yet again caged you with his arms as you rest your back on the wall
“W-what kind of reward ?,” you whisper, your breath tickles his neck as he leans closer towards your ear grazing the skin with his lips as he travels further down towards the neck, “Would a kiss be sufficient ?, for now at least,” he whispers against your neck, the sensation sends tingles through your body
“T-that would be appreciated,” you reply, resting your hand on his broad chest, he merely smiles before looking back towards your face, cupping your cheek before leaning in for a gentle kiss
“How delectable,”
#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio hsr#dr ratio fluff#dr. ratio#dr. ratio x reader#dr. ratio fluff
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7x04 coda
Buck watches Tommy walk away and he feels… he’s not sure, honestly.
Happy? Relieved?
His lips still tingle with the memory of it, the pressure left by Tommy’s kiss. He’s frozen on the spot, right where Tommy left him. He laughs, the quiet sound echoing through his empty apartment. He knows Tommy had to go, had to work, but Buck stands there, watching the spot where he’d just walked out, and he wishes he’d reached for him. Pulled him back in for another kiss, more than just a faint brush of lips.
He wants to wrap his arms around Tommy’s shoulders, pull him close, lick into his mouth.
Shit, the things he wants to do.
And it’s all new, it’s strange and different and wonderful, because when Tommy kissed him, he felt stubble scratch against his own, and Tommy’s fingers tilted his face up, not down, and even though Buck hadn’t quite managed to set his hand down, hovering it over Tommy’s shoulder in his surprise, he knew what he’d find there—broad shoulders, muscled back, so unlike anything Buck’s known before.
But he wanted it.
He wants it.
And Tommy may be gone, may be halfway across the city, or hell, maybe even in the air by now—Buck’s lost track of the time since he left—but there’s still time. They’re going out on Saturday, on a date.
He’s going on a date with Tommy.
Buck finally drags himself away from the kitchen island when his stomach rumbles. He stares into the fridge.
He grabs some leftovers, too much happening inside his brain to cook right now. The microwave turns, and the humming is the only sound in the apartment.
What does he do now? He can’t just sit back down and get back to work on the bills he was working on before. He can’t just… sit and watch TV.
He takes out his phone, scrolls for a while, then navigates to google. His thumb hovers over the search bar.
Buck’s never lived a sheltered life. Sure, football locker rooms, navy SEALs, and the fire academy weren’t the most openly queer spaces, but he’s worked in all kinds of bars, alongside all kinds of people. He’s had friends, co-workers, acquaintances from all walks of life.
And he’d never questioned himself. He always supported the people in his life, stood up for them when it was needed. How had he never even wondered whether he might have more in common with them than friendship?
That he’s… what? Gay? No… Bisexual?
That one feels better. He takes a breath, and the microwave beeps.
He ignores it, tapping his phone to stop the screen from going blank, then types in the search bar.
Bisexual
He clicks on the first link, and then the second, and he keeps scrolling, keeps reading until his eyes burn and his stomach is growling with hunger.
He takes out the now-lukewarm leftovers and shovels them down without really tasting any of it. Bisexual.
His phone pings. A text from Tommy.
Tommy: Busy shift, spending more time in the air than on the ground! Just checking in—still good for Saturday?
Buck bites back a smile as he replies.
Buck: At least it’s not Q!
Definitely still good.
He hesitates for a moment before adding a heart emoji to his last message and hitting send. Is that too much? Too soon?
Tommy sends back a grin and thumbs up, and Buck lets himself giggle—just a little one, shut up— as he pictures Tommy’s grin, the way his whole face lights up with it. God, he’s cute.
Tommy: You better not use that Q word btw!
Whole lapd knows about what happened last time someone on ur shift said that
Buck: Unfair! Was NOT my fault
Tommy: I’m sure…
Gtg. call coming in
Buck: Be safe!
How is this the first time Buck’s noticed a guy like that? How has he never seen it before? Most of the articles he’s read are about people who always knew who they were, or figured it out once they understood what bisexuality was.
For lack of anything else to do, or another message from Tommy to reply to, Buck heads upstairs and changes for bed, not really sure what else to do, just going through the motions. When he lies down, he stares up at the ceiling.
Is this the first time he’s felt something like this for a guy? He forces himself to think back, looking at his life in a whole new light, his friendships, the times he’s felt that same tightness, the need to be seen by someone who wasn’t a family member or a woman.
He thinks of Carter, a kid he played football with, the star of the team, how Buck used to showboat every time they were on the field together, used to play that little bit dirtier against, used to maybe glance at a little more than usual in the changing rooms.
He thinks of Leo, one of the guys he met working at the dude ranch, the one who just seemed to have a way with the horses, who took Buck under his wing on his first day, helped his clueless ass not pull too hard on the reins. Buck thinks about Leo’s hand guiding his, or resting on his thigh, showing him how to balance in the saddle. Buck wanted to do well at the job, wanted more than anything for Leo to look at him, a spark in his eye, and say “Hey, good job, Buckley!”
He thinks of that firefighter in Texas, TK, who Buck had clicked with just about right away. Buck wanted to be friends with him, wanted to keep him around, but he’d shut down Buck’s offer to take him for a drink if he was ever in LA by letting him know he already has a serious boyfriend.
Huh.
Maybe Buck had been asking him on a date. Maybe this has always been there, under the surface, just waiting to be prodded open.
And, hell, he realizes with a start. He might actually have a type. Strong, cool under pressure, unnervingly good at their job, able to get under his skin without really trying.
No wonder Tommy worked his way under Buck’s skin so quickly like that.
Buck finally remembers Tommy’s parting words as he walked out the door. “For god’s sake, please call Eddie. Now would be a great time—he’s on pain pills.”
He needs to call Eddie. Needs to apologize—Tommy aside, he’s been a dick this week. He hurt Eddie, actually hurt him, all because he let his… jealousy? Crush? Get in the way of his friendship.
That’s not the way they do things.
It’s late, past eleven. If he knows Eddie, he knows he’ll be awake. Pain meds, plus worry about what’s going on.
He sits back up in bed and dials Eddie’s number. While it rings, he thinks about what to say. “Sorry” is obvious. But when Eddie asks him why? When he leaves a silence, full of understanding and concern, Buck knows he’s never been able to withstand one of those silences.
“Buck?” Eddie picks up the phone, and Buck’s suddenly choked up, at a loss for words.
“Hey, Eddie,” he manages.
Eddie says nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Buck adds. “For not calling sooner. And for—for hurting you.”
“Buck. You didn’t mean to.”
“I—Eddie, I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I just… I didn’t think, I just… went for it, and I think a part of me knew as I was doing it that I was wrong, but I couldn’t stop myself.”
“So you… meant for this to happen?”
Buck shuts his eyes, shuffles so he can sit against his headboard. “I… Eddie, I never wanted you to… I didn’t want to injure you, I just wanted… Something.”
It’s not an explanation, not even close to it, but it’s all he can give right now. Sure, he could tell him everything. I’m bisexual and I wanted Tommy to pay attention to me, not you, but you didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire like that.
He wants to tell Eddie the whole truth, but not now, not like this, not as some sort of excuse and definitely not over the phone.
Eddie laughs over the phone, and it doesn’t feel mean, but it’s not comforting, either. “You wanted attention,” he fills in.
Buck exhales. “Yeah. Don’t worry, Maddie’s already called me out for acting like a teenage girl.”
Eddie laughs again, but it feels more genuine this time. “Remind me to thank her,” he says. “So, you’re back to normal now? Honestly, I was starting to have flashbacks to my first day.”
Buck… does not think about that day. He doesn’t acknowledge any similarities in his behavior that day and how he’s acted for the past week, because that… that’s not something he needs, right now.
Instead, he just sighs, and says he’s sorry again, and asks if he can make up for it. “Well,” Eddie says, and Buck hears him grunt, like he’s shifting positions. “If you’re free Saturday, I’m taking Marisol out to apologize for spending so much time with Tommy this week, if you could watch Chris? Say, around eight?”
And Buck’s about to say yes, but he stops himself. “I’m so sorry, I have… plans, on Saturday. Raincheck?”
Eddie sighs. “Damn, okay. Guess I’m groveling to Pepa again. You should come over, though. Earlier in the day, I mean. If, uh… you can. Chris misses you.”
Buck’s heart breaks a little. It’s what Tommy was saying, after all, and he can’t believe he’s been dumb enough to let anything get in the way of what he has with Chris, and with Eddie.
“Sounds great, Eddie. I can come by in the morning, maybe we could go to the aquarium, or something?”
Relief washes over him when Eddie agrees. He’s got this. He’s going to be okay.
When he hangs up, he only feels a slight pang of guilt for lying by omission and not telling Eddie about his actual plans for Saturday night.
He doesn’t feel guilty enough to not send a text to Tommy, though.
Buck: Talked to eddie btw
Cleared the air
He’s just about to drift off when he gets a reply
Tommy: Great! Glad you worked things out
Buck doesn’t reply, just smiles into his pillow and lets sleep take him.
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— their s/o trying to sneak out for a party
pairing: bf!svt x reader
genre: fluff, humor
warnings: mentions of alcohol and being knocked out (lmao)
summary: their reaction when their s/o tries to sneak out for a party (at night)
s.coups
if you have seen gose episodes, he's a very light sleeper. immediately wakes up to a little sound. so when he doesn't feel your presence besides him, he already starts to shift in the bed. he hears some noises of fabric, some tapping on the floor. heels. surely, they were yours. he finally opens his eyes and checks his phone. 1 am. what could you be possibly doing at this time?! he looks around. no sight of you. he walks to the door and sees you, all dressed up, almost getting out, your hand resting on the doorknob. "ehm ehm" he coughs. you squint your eyes and turn around slowly, smiling at him widely. he points at the bedroom without any words. you pout and walk back to the room.
jeonghan
he also probably feels the empty spot besides him. he had his back turning to you. after a while, he wanted to turn to you and wrap an arm around you. he goes for it, only to meet air. he taps on the mattress, his brows furrow. it's empty? he quickly opens his eyes and stands up. "y/n? babe?" he calls out. no answer. he gets up and looks around the house. he frowns, the panic starting to rise. the first thing that comes into his mind is grabbing his phone and dialling your number. no answer, again. he tries multiple times, no use. he waits the whole time, walking back and forth around the house, biting his nails. he finally gets a call. rushing to his phone, his brows furrow even more at the dialler. "mingyu?" he picks up the phone. "jeonghan hyung, y/n is drunk. please come pick her up" and he is in his car in seconds. he is mad at you, for sure, but you make it up to him in your own way.
joshua
catches you right before you get dressed. you were making too much noise. he furrows his brows and hums angrily. "my love, stop making noise and sleep" he mumbles. the noise kept bothering him so he sits up. he is met with the sight of you, trying to zip up your dress. he looks at you with a confused face, and you meet his gaze through the mirror. you go 😀, while he's 🤨. "what the hell are you doing?" "nothing?" "yeah...now get back in your pyjamas and cuddle me". and you can't say no.
jun
is low-key offended. he wakes up to you, throwing yourself in the bed, your dress still on. you try to kiss him, but he whines and blocks your face with his large palm. "you smell like alcohol. where did you go?" he whines out, looking at you with a (fake) angry face. "i went to a party" you mumble, smiling at him. he gasps and looks at you in a very offended way. "you could've at least invited me". you laugh loudly, he pulls you close. you try to kiss him again, and he blocks you again. "first, you shower and brush your teeth. then you'll get a kiss". after that, he takes care of you and gives you your kiss.
hoshi
so so so whiny and sulky. he gets up as soon as you do. "hmmmm! where are you goinggg.." he whines half asleep. you try to get out of his grip, but fail miserably. "no! you're staying with me." he pulls you by your arm and tugs you into his embrace again. guess no party tonight!
wonwoo
i think he would be a little disappointed in you. why would you go without warning him? he probably doesn't notice, so when he gets up in the morning, he's met with the sight of you passed out. you didn't even make it to the bed, you're literally on the couch. one shoe on, one off, your arms literally stretching out, your hair and makeup all messy. he couldn't deny that you were looking adorable, but he was a bit angry at you. when you wake up, he scolds you, tells you to shower and then makes breakfast for you.
woozi
my man does not sleep, he works. you ain't going nowhere. even if you do, he would still catch you. so nope!
dk
is in panic when he doesn't feel your presence besides him. keeps calling your name. when he gets no answer, he walks around the house, still nothing. he is really going to have a heart attack if you don't pop out. he calls everyone he knows in the middle of the night just for you. when hoshi tells him that you're at a party, he releases a long sigh. then panics again, because, you're getting drunk alone?! asks hoshi where the party is and picks you up.
mingyu
party? without him? nah. he knows every party that is held. so if you're going, he's going. if you said no and then wanted to go anyways, sorry, but it's not going to work with him! he wakes up in an instant, and pulls you into his embrace, saying: "you said we wouldn't go, so you're staying with me".
minghao
you're not playing with him like that. literally, pretends to be asleep, while you get all dressed up, and when you reach the door, you notice it's locked. you look at the door confused while trying to open it. you look around for the keys, but they're nowhere to be found. when you hear a jingling, you look at where the sound came from, and it's none other then your boyfriend holding the keys with a smirk. "you're not going anywhere alone at this time. if you really want to, i'm coming with you". he probably already knew your plan, since you were talking about it with your best friend.
seungkwan
low-key offended number two. you? partying without him? how dare you! he wakes up to your noises. when he sees you all dressed up, he whines and then gets up, dressing himself as well. "you're not partying without me, it's dangerous to go alone".
vernon
dude sleeps so deeply he does not notice. you come back home, around 5 am and he's still sleeping. when he wakes up, he sees you, strangely in your pyjamas, but he sniffs and smells the alcohol. he sighs. when you wake he asks you if you went to drink. you tell him that you went to a party and he shakes his head in disappointment. (he's not actually angry tho). "you should've told me, don't do that again. always tell me where you go".
dino
honestly, he was still up until late, so you probably end up asking him to go to the party, to which he agrees. so, i guess you're partying together!
a/n: finally back! i can't believe it's september already...i'm going to start school soon, i hope i will still have time to be active 😭 anyways, hope you enjoy!
networks: @k-labels
masterlist
#k lables#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#scoups imagines#scoups x reader#jeonghan imagines#jeonghan x reader#joshua imagines#joshua x reader#jun imagines#jun x reader#hoshi imagines#hoshi x reader#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x reader#woozi imagines#woozi x reader#mingyu imagines#mingyu x reader#minghao imagines#minghao x reader#seungkwan imagines#seungkwan x reader#vernon imagines#vernon x reader#dino imagines#dino x reader#boosari#seventeen headcanons
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i saw some pictures of flower crowns earlier and couldn’t get touch-starved! crowley making some to keep his hands busy out of my head
aziraphale and crowley are having their picnic in the park, resting on a shared blanket, the air between them sizzling with the unfamiliar feeling of sweet freedom after the no-apocalypse
crowley’s hands are twitchy, he doesn’t know what to do with them, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to reach out now, doesn’t know if the angel longs for his touch as much as crowley is pining for his
it’s been 6000 years and yet, the yearning still floods his throbbing chest, still swamps his jittery body
he’s always been gone on him
but there are no sides anymore, not for them at least, no heaven or hell to fear - times have changed
so of course (and how could it not), a silent, aching what if starts nagging on the back of his mind; he’s anxiously waiting for a signal, some sort of sign that the angel craves this too
crowley needs to keep busy, needs to occupy himself with something, anything that will distract him from the overwhelming desire to brush over aziraphale’s skin, to stroke over his rosy cheeks, to caress the wrinkles on his forehead
while aziraphale is savouring another one of the treats they’d bought on the way to the park, cheerfully chattering about the last few days, crowley begins plucking daisies from the meadow
it’s something, but it’s not enough
he sneaks a look at the angel, the soft white curls on his head drifting gently in the summer breeze, igniting a rather absurd idea within him
really, it’s a foolish thought
captivated by the image of aziraphale with the flowers in his hair, his hands abruptly stop obeying him and seize the daisies
he snaps his fingers, adding a bunch of other wildflowers to his growing collection
crowley makes one, then - reluctantly - another flower crown, twisting the fragile flowers until he’s somewhat satisfied, somewhat pleased with the result
only afterwards, aziraphale holds his tongue; he quietly takes note of the demon’s slender hands, possibly on the verge of trembling again now that he’d finished the crowns
“for us?”
nodding bashfully, crowley curses the lack of confidence he feels in this fleeting moment
aziraphale picks one of them, cautiously placing it on crowley’s buzzing head, his soft fingers pressing lightly against his long hair, lingering to adjust it again and again until he’s finally content
crowley’s barely breathing anymore when aziraphale grabs his hands, directing them towards the second crown, encouraging him to do the same for him
touching aziraphale - even just briefly - feeling the smooth texture of his hair, getting a taste of angel that he’d once believed he’d never experience - it is blissful, a marvellous sensation he fervently wishes to lose himself in
“thank you, my dear”
hazel eyes meet crowley’s amber ones as their heartbeats are adapting to a speedy, but steady rhythm, bodies almost embracing, almost intertwined like the invisible string tugging on their chests, pulling them closer to each other
tenderly, aziraphale draws crowley’s hand to his mouth, plush lips planting a hint of a kiss on his warm palm
and just like that, his fingers stay still for the rest of the afternoon, crowley’s earlier unease abandoned, long forgotten, eradicated by the angel’s soothing peck
they have the rest of their lives ahead of them, a study of touches just around the corner
#apparently i’m into flower crowns and significant hand touches who knew.. 🫣#foolish writes#good omens#aziracrow#crowley#aziraphale#crowley x aziraphale#ineffable husbands#good omens ficlet
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“craving” - part 3 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)
part 1 and 2
pairing- (Daryl x fem!reader)
warnings- 18+ content, oral (r!giving), reader being a sneaky lil slut… (drunk off sangria while posting so might not be proofread hehe) 2.6k wc
“Cute skirt,” you feel Shane’s hand graze your lower back as he squeezes between you and the countertop. Making his way to the fridge for another beer. “You uh, wear that just for us?”
You roll your eyes, biting back a smile while peeling what feels like the hundredth carrot of the afternoon.
He glances up, checking to make sure that your father is still deep in conversation with Rick, way over in the living room. And with a brand new, cold beer in his hand, he presses himself behind you, trapping you against the counter. His free hand coming up and brushing your hair out of the way, to leave a sweet kiss on your neck. You can’t help but smile, loving the way his lips feel on your skin. But you gasp when his hand comes down and squeezes your ass, under your skirt. Silently scolding him with your eyes, and stepping away from him. You’d already had a close call with Shane already. You didn’t need to be testing the waters any further.
He only chuckles and makes his way back to the living room, joining in on the conversation between Rick and your father. Something about the job that Deanna has put your dad in charge of. The construction team was doing another expansion, building more and more houses to fit all the newcomers.
Adding all the carrots to a bowl, you look up and notice Daryl making his way to the porch, slipping on his faded, leather jacket. A lighter and a pack of cigarettes in hand. Sweet. Just what you need.
He’s leaned up against the side of the house when you finally get to him. Your bare feet in the cool grass, having only pulled on a cardigan to stay warm in the chilly fall air. He smiles when he sees you, a cheeky, no good, expression splayed on his handsome face.
“Think I could borrow one?” You ask, standing right in front of him, already reaching for the pack in his jacket pocket, before he mumbles a knowing, “Mhm.”
“Light?” You ask, cigarette held to your lips, waiting for him to light it. And he does. Bringing his hand up to block the wind, other one sparking the flame. You take a drag in and lean in as close as you can, letting the smoke tumble out of your soft lips, practically grazing his own. Mindlessly, his hand makes its way to your waist as you lean further into him. One hand on his chest, and the other holding the smoke.
“You can just never behave, can you?” He asks, already knowing what the answer will be.
“Nope.” You smile, tipping your head up and closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his, hand coming up to the back of his neck to pull him in deeper. The smokes are quickly thrown to the concrete and forgotten. Pulling you against him and tangling his own hands in your hair. Tongues dancing over eachother, him tasting of beer and tobacco. You, of mint and lipgloss. The smell of him, that familiar concoction of smoke and leather, it’s intoxicating. Breathing heavy as you pull at his belt, getting ready to kneel for him, right there in your parents backyard.
“Wait-” his rough hand grabs your own, halting you from taking things any further. He’s breathing heavy too.
“We can’t.”
Immediately you groan. Annoyed and defeated.
Fucking hell. All of them. “we can’t”, “we shouldn’t”, “this is wrong”. It’s all you’d heard from the men for weeks. And while Rick and Shane were a little easier to seduce, breaking down enough to take care of you at least, Daryl had stayed relatively strong. The furthest you’d gotten was a rather heavy make out session in the truck. And he’d halted your hips the second you tried grinding down on him. Searching for any friction between the denim of his jeans and the lace of your panties that you craved so desperately, but he wouldn’t budge.
And now, when all you wanna do is wrap your pretty, glittery lips around his cock, he remains just a strong.
“Daryl, come on,” you whine, stealing another open mouthed kiss. Seemingly the only thing he didn’t feel the need to object. “Don’t you want me?”
“‘Course- fuck- of course I do.” He tugs you by the hair, facing his deep blue eyes. “I do.”
“Then why won’t you fuck me already?”
“We agreed-”
“Screw the agreement. Take me upstairs. Please. After supper, when my dad falls asleep on the couch. Take me upstairs and fuck me so hard I forget my own name.”
He blinks slowly. Keeping his eyes shut for a second to compose himself. Thinking about all the things he’d love to do to you if he did decide to follow you up to your bedroom. White walls and pink sheets. Soft and sweet, just like you.
His tone is firm when he finally speaks.
“We’ve been over this, sweetheart. Not happening.”
Bummer.
You take the rejection with an understanding nod. Being sure to slowly rake your hands down his abdomen, under his jacket, and give him one last peck. Quickly running your thumb over his lips, wiping the evidence of your watermelon lipgloss off his mouth. You give him a coy smile over your shoulder when heading back inside.
Unaware of the way that Daryl wanted to physically kick himself for saying no. Fists clenched by his sides with his eyes closed. Regretting not just taking the opportunity. Regretting not just letting you undo that damn belt and have your way with him, right outside in the backyard of your parents house. Knowing you’d show up for dinner with bruised knees and damp panties. Waiting in anticipation for whatever he might do to you after supper when he’d have you all alone in your bedroom.
Such a damn shame.
Your mother decided to eat on the deck with your aunt and her husband. With their annoying ass kids too. She’d invited you to sit with them, but the open seat next to Rick was way too tempting.
Shane is the weakest, by far. If you were measuring their strength by how likely they were to fuck you, that is. He hadn’t yet, but you’d like to believe that you’re making progress. Rick wants to. You know that. He wants you so bad it actually hurts. And fuck, if he hadn’t felt tempted the other week, upstairs in your bedroom, with his face between your thighs, giving you your second (and most intense) orgasm of the day. The way you begged him to fuck you right then and there had his mind spinning and his dick swelling. But unfortunately, his moral dilemma was saved by the sound of your father calling you downstairs, to introduce you to some new neighbours. And Rick couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the realization that he didn’t have to actually say “no”.
And as always, he’s attempted to claim you as his own. His hand won’t leave your thigh from under the table, as you pick at the turkey and potato’s on your plate. Glancing at him with an innocent smile every now and then. Tingles erupting as he moves his thumb in circles against your skin, all while listening intently to your father go on about all the work around Alexandria that needs to be done before snowfall. Daryl’s sat next to Rick. Replaying the conversation with you from outside, over and over in his head as he shovels the mashed potato’s into his mouth. Thinking about how badly he wanted to give in. To tangle his hands in your hair and guide those rosy lips right on to his dick, fucking your throat and then cumming all over your pretty face. And then Shane, next to your dad, who can’t stop playing footsies with you from under the table. Giving you that fucking smirk that you just wanna kiss right off his face. As if his smile belonged against your lips, and nowhere else.
“Sweetheart, I think me and the boys could use another round. You mind going to the garage and grabbing us some more beers?” Your father gets up, his voice snapping you out of your sinful daydreams.
“Uh- sure.” You smile politely, standing up from the table, and pulling your skirt down in a failed attempt at being modest. You hesitate, heart beating fast while watching your father go up for a second plate of food and then head outside to the deck. Probably just checking in on your mother. Making sure that her and the others were all doing ok and didn’t need another drink themselves.
You don’t even really register what you’re doing until you’re under the table. Moving fast in order to effectively use the moment that your father is finally occupied. Confusion quickly setting on each man’s face until you’re settled between Daryl’s knees. On the floor, completely hidden by the tablecloth. Hands going straight to Daryl’s belt, unclasping it and grabbing the impressively large stiffy he’d been hiding under the table all night.
“Fuck.” You heard him gasp from above. Shane letting out a surprised huff of amusement and Rick whispering something inaudible.
You slip your hand into his boxers and pull him out, licking your lips and then placing a sweet kiss on his tip.
“Oh shit, she’s- fuck.” Daryl’s thighs are tensed as he starts to wrap his mind around what’s actually happening. Around the fact that you’re on your knees in front of him. Glossy lips wrapped around his cock, while your dads right outside, and his best friends are right there.
You take him into your mouth, slowly bobbing up and down, paying close attention to his reactions. To what makes him drop his fork on the table and grunt. Gasping and straining to keep in the sounds you so desperately want to hear come from his throat.
You keep going even when you hear the sliding door to the deck open. Your father returning to the table and continuing his conversation from before. Not that you had been listening. Far too busy thinking about what each man would taste like if they had the decency to put you on your knees, like you’ve asked them to over and over.
“You hear about that run that Deana was planning? She said she’d talk to you about it but I didn’t know if she ever got around to…”
Your father kept talking. Blissfully unaware of the absolutely filthy performance taking place beneath the tablecloth. How on earth Daryl was keeping it together, you had no idea. Holding yourself up with your hands gripping at his thighs, muscles flexed in what you assume is pleasure. But it’s likely that his nerves are playing a roll as well.
Rick makes sure to keep your fathers attention. Asking questions and chatting along. The perfect distraction as you continue the borderline torture on Daryl’s cock. And though you can’t see it, he’s trying his very best to keep it together. Slow blinks, glancing down at his plate of food. Fingers gripping his utensils so hard they could snap. Doing everything in his control to keep breathing like a normal person. To not tip his head back and moan out your name. And Rick and Shane are doing a surprisingly wonderful job at being your accomplices, distracting your father with simple, mundane conversation. Enough to take any focus off the fact that Daryl was a minute away from cumming down your throat. Torn between wanting to last longer and wanting to hurry up so that he didn’t have to hide his reactions any longer.
You assume he’s getting close. His knees becoming all shifty, involuntarily twitching from how good your mouth feels. So warm and wet and taking him all the way down. You feel a hand lace into your hair, though a little confused because you’re pretty sure it isn’t Daryl’s. Coming from beside him, having reached over so nonchalantly, Rick pushes your head down. Clearing his throat at the same time that you inevitably gag on Daryl’s dick. Hiding the noise. And at that, Daryl just about lost it. Every nerve in his body is on fire and you want to taste him so fucking bad. Want to drink down every last drop of whatever he gives you. You reach your own hand down inbetween your legs and press the pads of your fingers to the cotton panties covering your clit. Rubbing little circles to ease your own needs. Dipping lower and realizing that there’s a wet spot from your arousal. Because sucking Daryl off was turning you on. And if he knew that, he wouldn’t have lasted another second.
“Thought your girl was grabbing us another beer?” Shane asks finally bringing attention to the fact that you aren’t sitting at the table. At least not to your dads knowledge.
“Yeah, I thought so. I’ll run to the garage. See if she got distracted with the bar. Gal sure loves her cocktails, I’ll tell you that much.”
Does she ever.
You hear your father walk down the hall, towards the garage. At the same time, Daryl let’s out the breath he’s holding and his hips buck up involuntarily. So fucking close you can tell.
“You got thirty seconds, baby.” Rick warns you. Well, both you and Daryl. That you need to make him come now. Otherwise, daddy’s gonna find out your dirty little secret. And wouldn’t that be such a shame. The fun part’s only just started.
Daryl moans. Louder than you expected but immediately after, you feel him tense up and your mouth fills with his salty fluid. You swallow around him. No hesitation whatsoever. It’s not like you could leave any evidence. And without even helping him get his pants done back up, you crawl past Ricks legs, making sure to use his thigh as a support beam to get back up and slink into your seat. Taking a napkin from the table and wiping your mouth. Giving your best doe eyes to the three men. All of them sporting equally impressed expressions. Not even a hint of jealousy present from Rick, which you found a little odd. Maybe your little show turned them all on. Not just Daryl. And when you look over at the bowman, his face is red. Crimson blush covering his cheeks as he buckles up and straightens himself out. Rick and Shane lightly shaking their heads in disbelief with the sexiest smiles forming on their faces.
“You are somethin’ else, princess. My god.” Shane laughs, kicking your foot under the table. And you can only smile back before you hear the door open and your father come waltzing back into the dining area.
“Where the hell were you? Y’forgot about our beer.” You father says, handing one to each man at the table.
“Sorry - uh- I had to use the washroom. Got distracted.” You smile politely, taking a sip of your own drink as you feel the heat rise to your own cheeks.
“Course you did. Can you grab the pie, pumpkin? Think everyone’s about done eating.”
You nod and get up, sauntering towards the fridge, grabbing the pie along with a can of whipped cream. You make sure to look directly at Rick and Daryl while you shake the can and line your index finger with the sugary fluff. Maintaining eye contact as you lick it up and suck the cream off your finger. Rick rolls his eyes, unable to hide the smirk forming on his face. And Daryl shoots you a warning glare from across the table.
You did warn him you weren’t going to behave. Just decided to prove it too.
part 4
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(Ricks part is up next bbs<3 )
taglist - @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck @imyourbratzdoll
#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixion x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#dbf!daryl#dads best friend trope#daryl x y/n#pick your poison
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The blue IV (JJ Maybank x Reader)
Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for
Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)
Series masterlist + OBX masterlist
As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, the touch of JJ’s lips against yours still lingered.
You could feel the ghost of his presence, it didn’t matter that he was across the hall, locked behind a door in his own room.
You lifted your hand, your fingertips brushing against your lips. Your face felt warm and you jerked your hand away, but it didn’t stop the memory from keeping you awake all night.
You couldn’t fathom that JJ had kissed you. You should’ve felt betrayed or something, after all he’d always been something akin to a brother to you, but you didn’t. Not really. You were mostly just confused about why you weren’t upset, and you weren’t sure what to do with that feeling.
In the morning you contemplated hiding in your room or fleeing from the house. You weren’t sure you could face JJ—what would you say to him?
It wasn’t like you had done anything wrong, so why did you feel so weird about it? He should feel weird if anything. He kissed you, not the other way around.
Did you kiss back? Even for a second? You were trying to remember.
It’s not like he was a bad kisser. The opposite, actually, but you couldn’t get over asking yourself why he did that.
You couldn’t even feel relief in solving the mystery of what was up with JJ and John B.
Jealousy was hell of a motivator.
Kiara texted you, and you came to a conclusion to your debate. She was up earlier than usual but hey, it was the perfect excuse to get out of the house.
You pulled on fresh clothes for the day and swung your door open.
The universe had a sense of humor, because JJ did the exact same thing. At least, the second part.
He was standing in his doorway across from you in only his boxers. You averted your eyes when you realized that.
“You’re not usually up this early.”
He sounded just as awkward as you felt. You swallowed, eyes flicking anywhere but his tan, exposed skin.
“Neither are you,” you replied, familiar warmth rising to your cheeks. “I’m going to Kie’s.”
“Do you…” JJ trailed off, swallowing back the words.
His instinct was to offer you a ride that way he could make sure you got where you needed to go safely, but it was too soon for both of you evidently.
You took a breath and met his gaze. You could feel him watching you.
“I don’t really know what to say here,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head.
“That makes two of us.”
The silence that followed felt so thick, filling the air around you.
“If you hate me now, I get it,” he said, voice low, and you could tell he was giving himself hell for it.
You almost laughed at the notion. Almost, but didn’t.
“I’d never hate you, JJ, don’t be stupid.”
Just the thought was absurd—how could he even think that for a second?
“I’m kinda running that department right now, actually.”
“What if we just… forget it?” you offered after a moment.
JJ’s brows twitched up. He hadn’t expected that.
You hadn’t planned on it either, but you didn’t know what else you were supposed to do. Scream at him? Ask him to do it again? No, ignoring it and going back to normal was the only logical choice.
“Okay,” he agreed.
There was something hesitant lingering in the background. You felt it too.
You took a breath. “Okay.”
“So do you want a ride to Kie’s then or…?”
“She's gonna pick me up,” you informed, maybe a little too quickly. JJ got the hint.
“Right. Got it,” he replied in the same tone.
You nodded a little, then turned down the hall. You were going to wait on the porch, that way you could make a clean getaway. If you got in her jeep quick enough maybe she wouldn’t try to stick around to say hi to JJ.
“Hey Y/N?” JJ called right before you turned the corner. You looked back at him, noticing a hint of worry before he masked it with the smallest of smiles. “Thanks for… y’know, not hating me.”
Again, you nodded. You then disappeared, and then wished you had said something, but you were already on the porch. You weren’t going to go back inside, back to the uncomfortable conversation you had just left.
Instead, when Kiara’s jeep eventually appeared, you climbed in and didn’t look back. You just needed to get your mind off of things, and a girls day would help with that.
Except Kie wanted to talk about last night, because of course she did.
The two of you ended up sitting on her bed leaning against the wooden headboard. The Youtube video on her laptop had been long forgotten as she persisted in getting an answer from you about what happened with JJ. You wouldn’t give her details despite how bad she wanted them.
“Are things good now at least?” she finally asked instead.
You swallowed, resisting the urge to lick your lips. JJ had taken up residence in the back of your mind the entire day.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” you replied vaguely, not quite meeting her eye. “He was just being protective of me. You know how it’s been.
Kiara hummed, seemingly agreeing. “He seemed way more pissed, but if it’s cool then it’s cool. I don’t get the big deal anyway, you’re your own person,” she started. “The ‘protective big brother’ thing can’t last forever.”
As she said the words, paired with air quotes, you cringed. Overnight you decided you didn’t like that title for him anymore, not when you knew what his lips felt like.
“He’s not my brother,” you muttered, more so to remind yourself of that fact. It wasn’t exactly cut and dry perfectly fine, but it could be worse right?
Kie gave you a look of concern. She heard, and hadn’t been expecting it.
“Are you sure everything is fine?”
You nodded, forcing out a chuckle. “Yeah, I already told you.” You nudged her with your elbow and she let herself smile, but it appeared to be cautious.
You ended up deciding to spend the night at Kie’s, texting JJ in the afternoon what your plans were. As strange as things felt, you didn’t want him to worry about where you were all night. He read the text but didn’t respond. At least he knew. You didn’t bother notifying Luke, you never had and it had never been a problem. He didn’t care.
You did worry about JJ though, hoping that nothing awful happened in your absence.
Your stomach was still churning with guilt when last minute Kiara asked if you wanted to go to an outdoor movie when the sun started to set.
“Yeah, sure,” you agreed, starting to feel claustrophobic in her bedroom anyway. “What movie?”
“Not sure, but Pope and JJ are going so if it sucks we can all make fun of it,” she replied.
A part of you was glad JJ wasn’t home alone with his dad (a big part, actually). The other part felt a rush of anxiety at the prospect of seeing him. What would you say to him? Could you two actually pretend everything was normal?
You’d seen JJ tell pretty believable lies, but he wasn’t exactly a professional at being able to hide his emotions.
Then again, he’d kept his real feelings hidden from you for who knows how long.
It was too late to back out. Kie was already searching for her car keys, with shoes on and her hair up, ready to go.
You were quiet in the jeep, which she might’ve noticed if you hadn’t requested to blast music with the windows down. Anything to drown out your thoughts and Kiara’s potential questions.
When Kiara pulled into the parking area of the field, the sun had already set. Perfect for a projector movie night.
That was one of the fun things about living in Kildare, the random little events that went on. Movie nights were common in the summer. Everyone would bring their own chairs and blankets, a projector would get set up, and concession sales would fund the whole thing. It was on the Kook’s side of the island where Kiara lived, but it wasn’t uncommon for both sides to attend, and it was peaceful for the most part.
You and Kie each grabbed a chair from the back of her car. They were dinky little beach chairs, but it was better than sitting in the grass.
It was a little crowded when the two of you began to weave through people, searching for the two boys, your main light source being the large projector.
Finally, towards the middle, you saw Pope stick his hand in the air and wave. You had just enough light to confirm it was him.
“Hey, they got a decent spot,” Kiara commented, leading the way to the them. You only hummed in response.
Pope and JJ already had the area set up. A blanket they both sat on, a cooler that JJ leaned his back on, and a big bag of pretzels Pope probably snatched from his family’s cabinet.
“You guys made it just in time,” Pope said, smiling up at you and Kie. “They’re starting in a few minutes.”
Your eyes flicked to JJ, who had adverted his gaze from you. He seemed really interested in the loading screen up ahead.
Kiara set her chair down next to the blanket, and you opted to put yours next to her. It was inconspicuous enough, no one would think you were putting space between yourself and JJ (even if you were).
“Is John B coming?” Kie wondered, asking no one in particular.
Pope glanced to JJ, which you only noticed because you had done the same thing. Had JJ told Pope?
No, definitely not. Pope would’ve had something to say about it for sure. He wouldn’t have asked you all to hang out in such a casual manner if he knew.
“Don’t know,” JJ said, opening the cooler and fishing out a beer. He popped the cap off and took a long drink. “Did you guys let him know?”
“No,” Kie said, dropping down into her chair.
“Well, there’s your answer,” JJ said with a shrug.
Kiara made a face.
“So you still have an attitude?”
“Can we just watch the movie?” you jumped in, sitting down in your chair.
The movie coming on a few seconds after your words halted any argument that could transpire. You were relieved to say the least.
You focused on the movie, trying to get into it, not letting your gaze wander. You made back and forth comments under your breath with Kiara, and sometimes you’d lean past her when Pope had something to say. JJ was quiet, which was abnormal for him. He was always talkative during movies, cracking jokes alongside you. If it wasn’t for the tension lingering between the two of you you might’ve forgotten he was even there.
You thought about trying to make a joke to get him involved in the little conversations, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Nothing sounded clever enough to say aloud to him. You used to not think about how your words would sound to him, but now you concerned yourself with it. What you’d say to JJ if you could manage it, or if he was at least overhearing your comments to Pope and finding amusement in them—you cared too much about that all the sudden. Did he think you were funny?
Trying to be normal with JJ around was significantly harder than you thought it would’ve been, despite being the one who suggested it.
How were you supposed to be casual around your step brother who kissed you? You hadn’t thought it through in the morning, and it became clear to you that both you and JJ knew things weren’t copacetic. Problem was you didn’t know how to fix it.
You could feel JJ looking at you every once in a while, but you avoided his eyes. Not only did you not know what to say to him, but even if you did, the two of you couldn’t exactly talk about it in front of your friends.
After about an hour into the movie, the opportunity arose when JJ stood up out of nowhere.
“I’m gonna get something to eat,” he mumbled, making his way to the little building nearby.
“We have pretzels left,” Pope offered, but it fell on deaf ears. He looked at you and Kiara once JJ was out of earshot. “Is he still mad at John B about yesterday? He’s been weird all day and John B isn’t even here.”
When Kie turned to face you, you realized he was just talking to you.
You shrugged and said, “I wish I could tell you.” Neither of them looked convinced. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not his keeper.”
“No, but you live together and you’re the person he trusts the most,” Pope acknowledged, worry in his tone. “If he would go to anyone it would be you.”
“He hasn’t said anything to you?” you asked.
Pope shook his head.
“They’re best friends, even when they argue they get over it,” Kie reminded.
“Did he ask you to not invite John B?” you continued questioning Pope, remembering JJ’s comment from before.
“No, John B’s working tonight. Something with the Cameron boat.”
“He definitely still seems mad at him,” Kie said, a knowing tone in her voice as she looked to you. “You never told me—what did he say to you when you got home?”
You could’ve lied but your brain wouldn’t come up with anything.
“Nothing really. Can we just watch the movie?” you asked instead. “Please?”
Everything had been fine just a day ago and now it was all so overwhelming.
Pope and Kie exchanged a look, but didn’t discuss further. It took about ten minutes for Pope to speak up again.
“JJ still isn’t back…” he noticed aloud. He craned his neck to look towards the snack line, but it was definitely no use. “Maybe someone should go find him.”
Someone. He meant you, didn’t he? You gave Pope a look, and he shrugged.
“Do you want me to go?” Kiara offered.
You shook your head. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t, not really, but you got up anyway.
You crossed your arms over your chest as you walked to the small building, searching around for a sign of something familiar—blonde hair, his shirt or anything to tip you off. It took a bit of wandering, but you eventually found JJ. He wasn’t in line, but around the back of the concession building.
He was alone, sitting on the ground, a flask in his hand, and his back against the stone wall.
“You disappeared,” you commented, drawing his attention. You approached him, leaning on your side against the wall next to him.
Blue eyes turned up to you.
“They send you to find me?” he guessed snarkily. “I’m fine, thanks. You can go.”
You scoffed at his tone. “This is your plan, then? To hide back here and get drunk?” You guess whatever was in the flask was stronger than beer.
Something between a look of sadness and frustration crossed his features.
“What else am I supposed to do? Clearly you can’t stand to be around me,” he shot back, glaring up at you.
You were taken aback, jaw falling slack.
“I was the one that said we can forget it and go back,” you reminded.
JJ scoffed at that, getting to his feet, leaving his flask to fall to the ground.
“Then why can you barely look at me?” he asked, gesturing with his hands, defeated. You proved his point as you failed to meet his gaze directly. “I mean seriously, even Pope knows something is going on.”
If this had been a regular conversation, you might’ve laughed. Even with how smart he was, Pope could be oblivious sometimes. It was one of the running jokes amongst your friends. But now didn’t feel like a time for jokes.
You straightened up, standing across from him, holding your ground.
“I’m looking at you right now,” you stated, albeit with much less conviction than before. You did indeed meet his eyes, but it was forced, and meant you had to see the pain in them. You hated seeing JJ in pain. “It’s not too late to pretend things are normal.”
JJ laughed. It carried all the hurt he was struggling to keep in, the sound lacking nearly all humor. He took a step closer.
“Don’t you get it? There is no normal. Not for me,” he confessed, deeper emotion creeping into his voice. “There never has been and you—you act like you can’t even be around me now so I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do.” The whole time he had been moving toward you absentmindedly, only noticing the close proximity when you had to look up to meet his gaze. He took a shaky breath, eyes pleading with you. “I can’t stop feeling the way I feel so just—just tell me what to do.”
“JJ…” you started softly, not knowing what to say to fix this. He must’ve been carrying this around for so long and all you wanted to do was help.
You weren’t sure who was more surprised when you pulled him into a hug, JJ or you. But he fell into your embrace regardless. He circled his arms around your waist when you wrapped yours around him. He held you tight, pressing his entire body to yours, like you could slip away any second. JJ’s head fell to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but run your hand soothingly across his back. You could feel his heart racing in his chest and smell the fresh alcohol on his breath. He didn’t sound buzzed but it would’ve been his goal if you hadn’t interrupted.
“It’s gonna be okay,” you assured quietly.
Something about your words made him straighten up. You saw how his eyes glistened and the pout on his lips. The bruise on his cheek still lingered. A strand of his hair had fallen into his face and you brushed it back into place.
You always knew JJ was handsome, but right now, looking at him, the word beautiful came to mind. There was something about him that made it hard to look away.
Your eyes fell to his lips, recalling how they had felt pressed against yours.
You and JJ hadn’t always been close, but now you could hardly remember a time when you weren’t attached at the hip. It didn’t matter how recent that change had happened. He was always there to make you smile or comfort you in his own way, and you did the same for him. He always looked out for you, and you took care of him when he needed it the most.
Your relationship had never been very sibling-like the more you thought about it. Siblings weren’t close in the way you and JJ were. Why did it take you so long to realize that?
The proximity had to be clouding your mind. You felt overwhelmed by JJ’s presence and just… you glanced around, making sure no one was around to see. You two were alone behind the building, the movie and people sounding miles away.
Ever so delicately, your hand rose to his uninjured cheek. You heard JJ’s breath hitch as you leaned in. He lowered his head and let you kiss him softly, meeting you halfway.
You didn’t know what had come over you, but heat filled your body at the way his hand fell to hold your waist.
JJ made an attempt to deepen the kiss, and you let him. His tongue tasted yours and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you.
That triggered something in him. JJ turned the both of you, backing you against the wall. Your back hit stone as he pressed himself against you. His kiss became more desperate, like he was afraid he was dreaming and might wake up. You tangled a hand into his hair and he groaned into your mouth before kissing you harder.
What the fuck were you doing? This was about the last thing you had planned and you didn’t even understand why it was happening. It was like the moment he kissed you just a night ago your brain was sent in a confusing spiral trying to place what you felt for him now that another option had opened up.
But had it really? This was wrong, it didn’t matter how good or how natural kissing JJ felt. It didn’t matter if you had come to the realization your relationship was more complex than you initially assumed. You both knew you shouldn’t be doing this, it was evident from the way you hid what happened from your friends, so how could it be okay?
You let your hand fall from his hair the deeper you sunk into contemplation. Your body pressed further back into the wall. You were retreating, and JJ could tell. He parted from you, noticing the way you turned your head away as if to prevent him from leaning back in.
“What’s wrong?” he asked carefully, nose nearly brushing your cheek.
“We…” You were trying to catch your breath. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
You heard him swallow, stunned.
“You’re sorry?” He stepped back, face shifting between a flurry of emotions as he tried to figure out what to say to you. You wouldn’t know what to say to you either if you were JJ. “First I kiss you and you ignore me, now you kiss me and you’re sorry?”
You met his gaze, begging him to understand. Tears stung at your eyes and you blinked them away. You had a lapse in judgment and you knew you fucked up.
“I know, and I—“
“Don’t apologize!” You winced at the way he raised his voice, but you guessed you deserved it. You really wanted to sink back into the wall when his eyes filled with sorrow. You’d never been the cause of him looking at you in such a way and it felt awful. “Are you trying to hurt me?”
“That’s the last thing I want,” you professed, throat thick, but he shook his head.
“Then tell me what you want.”
What did you want? It shouldn’t have been a question that puzzled you, but in that moment, you found yourself without a true answer.
So, your mind went to the default, trying to preserve some sense of morality.
“We just need to forget it, alright?”
JJ scoffed. “You said that before and look how well that worked out.”
Your heart clenched in your chest as you said, “I mean it this time.”
JJ eyed you for a long time, silence heavy between the two of you. He was trying to figure out what to say to that. Obviously he didn’t agree, but how could he argue?
“Whatever,” he finally muttered.
JJ scooped his flask up off the ground. His hand pressed to his chest and you knew how deeply you messed up. He didn’t spare you another glance as he stormed off, leaving you teary eyed and alone against the wall with the knowledge that you screwed things up worse than he had before.
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One Bad Party
pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+
word count: 6k
summary: After being broken up with at a house party, you return back to the compound at 3am to find Peter waiting for you.
a/n: Heyyy sorry I've been playing Baldur's Gate to escape my writers block. But here you go, feedback is appreciated bc I feel like this fic fell flat a bit??? Idk lol
There was only one question that kept crossing Peter’s mind whenever he saw you sneaking out of the compound to see your boyfriend: Were you sleeping with the guy?
Peter had no right to be this jealous. It was not like he had a chance with you. Peter tried, but he could barely hold a conversation with you without withdrawing into himself. He became a stuttering mess and before long he would find himself retiring, far too embarrassed to stay in the same room as you.
Peter looked up from his textbook. He was sitting in his dim room, studying at his desk. Or at least, he was attempting to study. The only thing running through his mind was the outfit you were wearing as you left the compound.
Your bare leg flashed past your large black coat as you brushed off a comment from Tony. A black satin slip could be made out, hugging your curves as you wrapped the coat’s fabric around you, wishing to hide yourself from Tony’s judging gaze.
The thought of you was pushed out of Peter’s brain as he pushed out his chair, rising to his feet. He needed to clear his head for a bit.
Peter found himself staring into the kitchen’s large fridge, eyes scanning his options without a single processing thought. He wondered if you were coming home tonight. Not that it mattered, it was not like there was anyone special to come home to. Reaching out, Peter grabbed a cold, glass bottle. Studying the label he shrugged before opening the beer. The cold glass pressed against his warm skin as he took a sip.
The alcohol could never affect his senses, unless he were to make sure of it, but he still liked the taste of beer. He winced after his next sip, second guessing himself. Glancing at the time, it was almost three in the morning and Peter found himself praying for your arrival to the compound. Clearly, he needed some air to push his clouded thoughts of you out of his head. Right?
“Friday,” Peter spoke quietly with his drink in hand.
“Yes Peter?”
“I’m going outside,” He informed the system.
“Of course, Peter. It is currently 40 degrees. I would recommend a jacket,”
“Thanks,” Peter smiled, hand finding a hoodie that he managed to leave in the lounge last night. How Tony had not thrown it on the ground in front of his bedroom door already was a surprise.
Opening the door, the cold air hit him, making him shiver slightly.
Peter remembered what you had on when you left, and he only hoped you were inside somewhere nice and warm. Placing his bottle down on the tiny porch’s only step, he took an awkward seat on the cold stone. He rubbed his hands together, now wishing he had made a warm cup of coffee instead. Placing the bottle against his lips, he tilted his head back. He studied the stars as he took a few large sips of beer.
“What are you Tony’s guard dog?” Your voice rang through his ears, taking him off guard. You watched him begin to choke slightly, “‘Cause you’re shit at it,”
“N-No,” His single word was separated by a heavy cough, “I couldn’t sleep,” Peter knew half a beer was not affecting him, but somehow he was feeling a little confident, “and I noticed you weren’t back yet so-”
“So you’re up playing parent?” You studied where he was spread on the step, blocking your way to the door. Sure, you could go around him, but you already stumbled your way up the compound’s extremely long driveway.
“No- I just- it’s so cold and I was remembering what you were wearing when you left and I-” Peter rambled below you.
“Please give me a break. I heard enough from Tony before I left and I sure as hell don’t want to hear it again, especially from you,” You shot back. Your words were almost flowing like vomit, slurring and sloshing out of your quivering lips.
“No- No I- Y/N,” Peter shook his head. Moving his hands, he attempted to stand up, however his arm knocked against his bottle. The glass fell against the stone, shattering almost instantly. Staring at it, he almost laughed at how it reflected the conversation that hung in the frigid air.
“You’re in my way and I’m cold, so please,” Your gaze fell to your pointy heels as you wrapped your coat’s fabric around you tightly. Closing your eyes you did not want to see Peter stumbling before you in response to your hurtful tone. However, you also did not want him to see the tears that were forming in your eyes, “goodnight,” You muttered, pushing the heavy door open.
“Y/N,” Peter called after you. He watched as you attempted to outrun him, however your imbalance twisted your ankles in your heels, “Hey-” He called out, reaching out, he steadied you as you began to crumble.
Inhaling, your stuffy nose played audibly, directing Peter’s gaze, “No,” You spoke defensively, “No- I’m not- it’s not. Peter,”
“What did he do?” Peter studied your face, “Your makeup- Before you left, you did that little thing you started doing,” He motioned to your eyes, “the little flick. And now it’s gone and your mascara is smudged under there-”
“Peter…” You stared back at him, confused as to why Peter would pay so much attention to you, if any at that. He was Spider-Man and you were Tony’s assistant who just got to live here because it was more convenient for the billionaire.
“No, because did he do something?” Peter questioned. His voice cracked slightly, making him clear his throat.
“Why do you care?” You questioned back, not sure where the question came from. Well, you knew because that is exactly what you were thinking. But, you were unsure as to why you were so blunt. Maybe you were still a little buzzed.
Peter’s hold on you loosened as the question passed through your lips. He could not confess to you, not now. He had thought of so many ways to tell you how he felt, and this was not one of them.
He studied your appearance. Your makeup was a ghost of the painted picture it was hours before, and your posture was folded in on itself, as if you wished the dark compound to swallow you and allow you to hide away, “Because I knew he’d do something,”
“Y-You,” You stuttered, “don’t even know his name,” Peter’s brown gaze was serious, and it was a look you had never seen him wear. You were never around for important missions, just to make small talk to him at the coffee maker or Tony’s stupid little lounge parties.
“Don’t have to,” Peter spoke, “if he treated you any better I feel like you would’ve mentioned him to someone. To Nat when you guys share your coffee in the morning or Mr. Stark would bring him up during his parties to embarrass you… or to annoy me,”
You did not address his last claim. You just wanted to go to your room and cry, “I’m just… I’m a private person,” You shrugged, not meeting Peter’s gaze any longer. You heard him laugh slightly, a short exhale passing through his lips, “what?”
“I just- My body doesn’t let me get drunk so you wouldn’t believe how much I know about everyone from Mr. Stark’s dumb parties,” He watched as you met his eyes once again, “Y-You,” He paused, your gaze stirring up butterflies, “You say a lot when you’re drunk,”
“Like what?” You pried, watching Peter smile slightly.
“That’s how I found out,” Peter spoke, “Mr. Stark-” He paused, remembering the night Tony had tried so hard to get the two of you together after finding out Peter’s crush on you, “he suggested spin the bottle,” He heard you scoff, “Yeah well, that’s when you refused to play because you ‘met a guy’ and it was ‘kind of serious’,”
“So,” You spoke, “We were,” The word slipped as your gaze froze.
“...Were?” Peter questioned.
“Peter,” You shook your head.
“What do you mean?” Peter pushed.
“Peter, I’m tired,”
“Did he break up with you?”
“It’s like 3am and I want to get this fucking dress and heels off,” You spoke over him, watching him freeze in front of you.
He could help you with that, “Sorry,” Peter spoke, “You don’t have to tell me,” Peter wanted to slip that dress off of you.
“It’s not,” You sighed, feeling guilty as if you kicked a puppy, “It’s not like we talk. You know? When’s the last time we had a conversation like this?” You watched as Peter’s posture straightened in front of you, but in reality it felt like he was about to crumble from your piercing words.
“Right…” Peter spoke, knowing when to take a hint. “Sorry,” He stepped aside, allowing you to claw at the straps of your heels. It felt as if he was letting you slip right through his fingers. Sure, he did not want to be a rebound but at this point, he did not want you to think he had no intention of ever speaking to you, “It’s not that I haven’t tried,”
“What?” You questioned, planting a bare foot on the ground. The heel hung loosely in your grasp as you stared back at him.
“I try to talk to you- A lot actually… but,” Peter specified, “I’m just not great at it- I mean, I’m not even good at it,”
You paused, as awkward silence fell after Peter’s words, “Okay,” You smiled slightly, “Well, maybe we can talk in the morning? Over breakfast? If I’m not hungover,”
“Right,” Peter smiled in defeat, “Sure,” He watched as you pressed your lips in an awkward smile, the lipstick that was once there was now faded. You slipped the other shoe off your foot before turning towards the hallway. You made your way a few steps down the hall to the elevator doors, leaving Peter to stare right at you from where you left him, “It’s because I like you,” He spoke, surely low enough.
The elevator dinged but you did not walk inside it, not yet. You were at a standstill, your brain processing Peter’s quiet confession. Staring into the bright elevator, you watched as the doors began to slowly close. How could Peter like you when you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you? Why would anyone like you?
“You’re-” You mumbled, “You’re fucking with me,” Turning, you dared to meet Peter’s far off gaze, “Stop fucking with me,”
“W-What?” Peter stuttered, watching you walk closer to him.
“You’re Spider-Man,” You informed, watching his head tilt slightly out of confusion.
“...Yeah? Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?” Peter questioned, his eyes trailed all over your body, forgetting that you could see his every move.
“Why would you…” You wrapped your coat around you in response to Peter’s gaze, “I’m just Tony’s assistant,” You stopped in your tracks, not able to get any closer to Peter.
“Why would I?-” His question fell short as he realized you had heard his quiet confession, “Oh,” Peter watched you nod shyly, “Don’t… don’t you want to get out of your clothes?”
“What?” You questioned, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment.
“No- No! God, I just-” Peter stammered, “You said you wanted to change- I thought you could do that and maybe like, take off your makeup and then we could talk. Or, or we could do that in the morning- if you’re not hungover,” He repeated your earlier claim.
“Yeah… yeah,” You spoke, “I’ll go- I’ll go change,” You nodded, lips pressed together, “but, could you help me? These heels killed my feet,”
“Yeah,” Peter spoke, “Yeah, of course,” He was hesitant, hands reaching out. Peter hand touched you before, when he caught steadied you moments before, but now it felt different. Now you know, “Here,” Peter took in a quick breath before he slipped your large coat off of your skin. You almost looked nude, the dress under your coat was small compared to the coat’s large exterior. He folded the fabric before he tucked it under his arm, “and I can carry those,” He reached out towards your shoes that hung off of your curled finger.
“Thanks,” You smiled to yourself. However, your smile soon faded to a blank expression as you felt Peter’s fingertips on the small of your back. His hand soon flattened and you swore you could feel his sweaty palm through your thin dress.
***
The two of you silently made your way through an awkward elevator ride and stumbled your way to your room. Peter opened the door, watching you slip past him and into the dark room. You let out a loud sigh of relief after Peter shut the door behind him, “What?” He almost laughed.
“Feels good to be home,” You replied, “That party was a fucking nightmare,” You smiled, your lips quivered as you felt tears threaten to spill, “I didn’t want to go. I shouldn’t have,”
“Y/N,” Peter said, approaching you, he gathered a handful of your dress’s fabric, “Remember what I said,” The tone of his voice drew your attention. You never heard that slightly dominant tone pass through his lips before, “We can talk after. Okay?”
“Mhm,” You hummed, lips pressed nervously, “Right,” He began to hike up the fabric, the cool fabric tickling your thighs, “Peter,”
He had started helping you without a second thought. Peter was completely lost in you, functioning on autopilot. Your words brought him back to reality, “Sorry- I,” He turned, facing the wall, “I’m sorry- I forgot I was done helping. I got you here,”
You slipped the dress over your hips and past your chest, “Yeah,” You broke the silence, “but,” That word made Peter turn his head in time to check a glance of your exposed skin. The dress’s fabric covered your face as you slowly slipped it over your head.
Could you see him staring? Peter took in the sight of your underwear and push-up bra for another second before turning his head back to the wall. His face must have been red. He felt his cheeks begin to grow warm. Peter also felt something else begin to grow and he hoped it was not noticeable.
“Could you help me?” You continued, now slipping a long, black night shirt over your skin. You wished you had anything else to wear to bed, anything sexier than an oversized shirt.
“Help with what?” Peter questioned, back still facing you. He watched as your room lit up a bit brighter from switching on the bathroom light.
“My makeup,” You almost groaned, “I’m too tireddd,” You placed your arms on the counter’s cool surface. Looking at your reflection you were reminded of the night you just had. Your mascara pooled under your lash line but you were still surprised Peter had noticed, “Peter,” You called out, hands covering your face, smudging your makeup even further.
Peter entered your small bathroom, taking in the space he had never seen before, “What’s up?” He watched as you blindly dug through one of your drawers. A pack of makeup wipes appeared in front of him as you leaned further onto the counter, a tired groan vibrating past your lips, “Okaaay,” Peter laughed, “Come’re then,” He took the pack, setting it down before he reached out. Turning you around, you faced him now. Your eyes were still closed from when you were rubbing your tired eyes, “Just one?”
“Mhm,” You nodded, finally opening your eyes. That is when you realized how close Peter was. You studied his hands as he peeled open the makeup wipes. His fingers were long and slender, making something in you stir. You focused on his fingers moving around the cloth in his large hands.
“Hey,” Peter spoke, taking hold of your face with his free hand, “I have to see your face to take the makeup off,” He laughed. The smile quickly faded as he studied your face in his hold, a look of embarrassment flooded his face. Peter realized not only how close he was to you, but was reminded just how pretty you were. Nervousness traveled up his spine, making him shiver slightly, “Right,” He spoke, clearing his throat as you stared back up at him.
His touch was gentle as he replaced his hand with the makeup wipe, making you jump, “cold,” you muttered, nervous at Peter’s closeness.
“Sorry,” Peter replied, rubbing the makeup off of your skin.
“Don’t look too close,” You laughed, “I’m not that pretty up close,” You chose your words wisely, not wanting Peter to think you were baiting for a compliment.
But that was exactly what was running through Peter’s head. Peter was trying to find the right words to say so he did not seem like he was as obsessed with you as he was, “I think you’re pretty,” Was all he managed to admit, watching your gaze snap right to his loving brown gaze, “I mean… I can move- if you think I’m too close,”
“You think I’m pretty?” You mentally kicked yourself as the cliche question slipped past your lips.
“Yeah,” Peter nodded. Pretty was an understatement, “You’re probably the prettiest girl I know,” He tested the water.
“Nat and Wanda live here,” You spoke, “So I think you’re lying,”
“Nah,” Peter focused on your eyes, “Close your eyes,” He instructed, watching you do as you were told. He felt as if he should use this to his advantage, that way you could not affect him with your gaze, “I thought that since the day you got here. Plus, Nat and Wanda kind of scare me,” He watched you smile slightly.
“I don’t scare you?” You questioned, feeling his breath on your skin, making your lips press closed.
“A little, but in a good way,” He admitted.
“Yeah?” You laughed to yourself, eyes still closed, “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Peter did not answer, he was far too embarrassed and lost in the thought of you. The ‘good way’ was that it turned him on, “There,” He finally spoke as he studied your cleaned face.
“You didn’t answer my question,” You spoke, however your words fell short as Peter dragged the makeup wipe across your mouth.
“Sorry- Missed a spot,” He teased, watching you stick out your tongue at the bitter taste of the wipe.
You made your way to the sink, washing your face with cold water. Peter stood silently behind you, studying you through the mirror. Or you assumed so, not daring to meet his brown gaze.
“Sooooooo… you want to talk about it now?” He finally questioned as you dried your face off on a soft towel.
“About the party?” You questioned, hanging up the towel, “Or… about what you said? Earlier,”
Peter’s head fell, studying his fingers that intertwined, absentmindedly, “W-Whatever… whichever you want to first,”
Walking out of the small bathroom, you placed a finger on its light switch. You stared at Peter, waiting for him to follow you, “Yeah… whichever,” However, Peter did not budge, “That party…” You started, “that paaarty was… the worst night of my life,” You laughed before switching off the light. Walking over to your bed, you fell back onto it. However, you regretted it, feeling the alcohol move around in your stomach as your head spun, “...fuck. I’m so fucking stupid,”
“You’re not,” Peter interrupted.
Raising your head, you stared at him for a moment before your gaze returned to the ceiling, “I knew he was talking to someone else. I mean, I suspected it. Turning the phone away when I was too close. Locking it as soon as I entered the room. The lying… I could tell by the mannerisms, by his facial tics,” You groaned, “But you know… ‘he was different’... I was just into him because he barely gave me the time of day unless we were fucking,”
Those words clicked in Peter’s head.
You were fucking that guy.
“The one time I mentioned him to Tony and he read him like a book and I just… God, I just didn’t want Tony to be right,” You somewhat laughed, “Because I hate it when he’s right,”
“You deserve so much better than that guy,” Peter spoke.
“What? I should be glad he fucking cheated on me? Glad that I showed up to the party, only to find him grinding on her ass and she was wearing the same fucking thing I was wearing?”
“Y/N,”
“What?” You heard the pity in his voice, “I don’t need you to feel bad for me-”
“I’m not- I just can’t believe anyone would do that to you. It pisses me off because if I ever had a chance with you I would never take advantage of it,” Peter admitted, “You’re way out of my league- and I bet you were for him too- and god if I ever fucked up like him I think I’d be the biggest idiot,” You stared back at him, a small smile sat on your lips, “...What?”
“You… actually do like me?” You questioned.
“Well… yeah,” Peter replied, red-faced, “I’m- I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out yet. I feel like I’m so obvious. Literally everyone here knows it,”
“I had no clue,” You almost laughed.
“Really?”
You both felt the mood shift, as Peter sat at the end of your bed, “Yeah… I don’t know. We hardly talked and when we do you always end up leaving… you know,” You rambled, staring at the ceiling, “I always thought I scared you or something, you know, because I just… don’t know how to talk to people really. Everyone I meet always goes off to tell someone they think I’m stuck up- Or if I don’t talk I’m a bitch,”
“I like hearing you talk,” Peter spoke, absentmindedly. Your eyes fell on him as he looked down at you, “You- You’re… interesting and really cool,”
“Y-Yeah?” You laughed somewhat at his awkwardness, “Well… thanks. You too- I mean, you’re cool…too,”
“I-I’m… not cool, like at all,” Peter looked surprised, “I’m super awkward and I like the dumbest stuff,”
“It's not dumb,” You picked up your head, “You’ll convince me to finish Star Wars one day,” You watched a grin curl his lips, “Really. I like it when you talk about stuff you like. I really like it,” You watched Peter’s hand move towards your face. His fingers brushed back some hair that sat out of place, “...My ex- Well he was always too cool to like anything. You know- one of those guys. He was too cool for everything…”
“How about we don’t talk about him anymore” Peter spoke. He stared at you, wanting to touch you. So he tested the water, running his fingers through your hair.
“Mhm,” You hummed in response, eyes closing with each pet of your head. Your eyes felt heavy as your body reminded you that it was probably around four in the morning.
“Do you want me to leave?” Peter questioned, catching a glimpse of your closing eyes, “so you can sleep,”
“No,” You admitted, “I want you to stay and keep touching my hair,” You heard Peter laugh from above you.
“Fine, but I need you to get on the bed more,” He stood up, waiting for you to position yourself on the bed from where you happened to just flop over.
You slowly got adjusted under the covers as you watched Peter walk towards your bathroom, “Is it okay if I use your bathroom?”
“Mhm,” You hummed again as you waited for him to return. You heard the light switch off as you felt your heart begin to beat faster at the idea of Peter sharing a bed with you, “You don’t mind staying, right? Is it weird?”
“No… I mean- do you think it’s weird?” He questioned, standing at the side of your bed.
“No,”
“Yeah… it’s fine then,” Peter almost held his breath as he entered your covers. He could hear your heart racing next to him, however it was almost overpowered with the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.
Peter laid on his back as he felt you shifting by his side. He did not dare look your way, eyes fixated on the ceiling of your room as his eyes adjusted to the dark room.
“Goodnight,” You whispered from your spot next to him, feeling Peter’s body jump slightly from your quiet voice breaking the heavy silence, “sorry,”
“N-Night,” Peter replied, hearing you laugh to yourself from behind the sheets.
***
You stirred, as light from the room’s large windows broke your slumber. Your head was pounding as you tried to recall last night. That is when you remembered that the arm that was wrapped around you was Peter’s and not your ex’s.
Peter’s arm laid across your hip as you laid on your side, eyes staring at the wall, attempting to process what exactly unfolded last night.
You were not drunk. You remember every moment, but every moment felt like a dream.
Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Peter’s sleeping face.
Your gaze traveled across his soft skin, eyes bouncing from freckle to freckle. His lashes fluttered, looking as if he was still experiencing a dream.
Reaching out, you rested your hand on his side. You felt Peter pull you closer to him while he slept, “P-Pete,” You whispered, afraid of your morning breath.
“mmm,” Peter groaned as you shook him slightly, by his waist. You watched as he eventually stirred awake, “H..hey,” He spoke quietly, eyes barely open, “How’d you sleep?”
“Not as good as you,” You joked, as his hold on you tightened. Peter still drifted in and out of his sleeping state, “Since… you know. You’re all cuddled up next to me,”
“Hm?” He questioned, eyes finally opening, “Oh- Sorry,”
“It’s- It’s fine,” Your hand took hold of his shirt before he could attempt to move away from you. You stared at his face, his brown gaze refusing to meet your eyes. Every thought that bounced around your head told you to kiss him, hell, every cell in your body was inching towards him; grasp on the fabric pulling your bodies closer.
For a moment your gaze fell to his lips before your lashes fluttered shut, lips pressing against Peter’s for a forceful kiss.
Taken aback, Peter’s eyes widened before they squeezed shut as he attempted to hold back the lust that began to flood through him, “Hey- he- hmm,” Peter hummed against your lips as your kiss smothered any word that attempted to leave. He kissed you back, hands traveling underneath the hem of your shirt’s large fabric.
His sweaty palms traced your curves, studying you even behind closed eyes. Peter felt himself begin to be swept away, worried he would not be able to resurface. Pushing you away by your hip, he attempted to pull out from your hungry kiss, “Hey… Y/N,” Peter watched as your mood shifted almost instantly, looking as if your heart had shattered all over again from the night before, “No- no, it’s just- Y/N I won’t be able to stop,” Peter attempted to explain, “Y/N, I want you… I think about it more than I’d like to admit and it always ends up with me not being able to help myself…”
“I want you… Peter,” You thought for a moment, “I need you,”
“I don’t want to hurt you like he did… or worse,” Peter thought about his strength.
“You won’t. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” You sat up, watching Peter roll onto his back. Picking up a leg, you swung it over his own, straddling his waist. You were never this forward, but you were always this desperate.
You always had feelings for Peter, you just never thought someone like him would reciprocate.
With that thought, you felt Peter’s hands grasp the plush skin of your thighs, “You- You’re sure?”
“Please,” You breathed out before Peter flipped you on the bed, pushing your face into one of the bed’s plush pillows. You felt as he hiked up the fabric of your shirt, exposing your panties to him. His dominant palm rubbed circles on the side of your ass before you heard him take a deep breath.
This time, it was time for you to take in a breath as Peter began to pull the fabric of your panties down.
You would be lying if you said you were not self continuous about Peter seeing your body for the first time in such an intimate way. The entirety of your last relationship had you on edge, hoping you were good enough.
Suddenly, the bunching fabric halted, making your breath stop as well, “Relax,” You heard Peter speak. Bending over your back, Peter planted a kiss on your ear, making you shutter.
“I- I just… he really messed me up I think,” You laughed to yourself, “so. So I don’t think you could ever hurt me more than him,” As the claim left your lips, Peter flipped you back onto your back, “Pete-” You heard the tearing of fabric as Peter, literally, ripped your panties off your legs.
He shifted down on your bed, ignoring your claims to the torn fabric. Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest as he grew closer to what was hidden behind the silky fabric. Placing his hands on your knees, he spread your locked legs, “Hey,” He watched as you locked eyes with him and that is when he felt a switch flip in him, “I don’t want to hear you talk about him anymore,” Your wide eyes stared back at him, “Okay?”
You nodded.
“I want to hear you say it,”
“Okay…” You mustered the courage.
“Okay? Okay what?” Peter’s fingers trailed along your skin. Closer and closer to your wet folds. His touch circled you almost teasingly.
“I won’t talk about him anymore,” You answered.
“Good,” Peter almost smiled, but there was a newfound cockiness behind his words. His thumb brushed against your clit, “Why shouldn’t you?”
“What?” You almost whimpered, wanting the teasing to end.
“Why shouldn’t you talk about him anymore?”
“I… I don’t know,” You spoke with frustration. However, Peter’s gaze made you think about giving a better answer, “Because… because I deserve better?”
“Is that a question?”
“No…” You whined as Peter gently thumbed your clit, however it was not enough, “Peter please,”
“Fine,” Peter smiled at your desperation. Lowering himself, he placed your legs over his shoulders. He took in the sight before him, fingers running through your wet folds, “You’re so wet... You like it when I tease you or something?”
“...No- it makes me mad,” You spoke, unfiltered, not wanting to focus on the fact that Peter was seeing your flaws so up close.
“I don’t know, I think you like it,” He spoke, inserting his index finger into you, watching you wither in front of him, “So pretty,” Peter spoke under his breath. He listened as you attempted to hold back a few quiet moans, “You sound so pretty… wanna hear you,” Curling his fingers, he hit you at a different angle, making your eyes roll, head rolling back into your pillow, “Yeah?” He almost laughed, “Right there?”
You nodded, knowing if you parted your lips, you would not be able to shut up. However, Peter had other plans, his fingers moving in and out of you even faster. “FFffuckk,” You moaned, eyes screwed shut, “Pete-” His name was cut short, interrupted by a louder moan as Peter’s lips found your clit. He gave it a wet kiss before his tongue explored you.
Your ex never did this, and if he ever did, the foreplay lasted only long enough to make sure you were wet for him. Mentally, you kicked yourself, finding your brain occupied by your ex even though Peter just told you to not talk about him, “Are you thinking about him?” You heard Peter ask like clockwork.
“W-What?” You stuttered, opening your eyes. Looking down, you meet Peter’s dominant gaze.
“You stopped moaning,” Peter spoke, “Your eyebrows are all… furrowed- and not in a sexy way,” He added an extra finger into you, hearing you moan at the action, “I can stop- If you’re not over him I’d rather stop than you think about him the whole time,”
“No- No… Sorry,” You breathed out, “I- I know you told me not to talk about him but- I… I was just thinking about how he never… he never did this,” You rambled as Peter’s fingers still pumped in and out of you slowly, “fffuck- and- and I just-”
“Guess I’ll have to make up for lost time,” Peter somewhat joked before his lips returned to your clit. He placed a wet kiss between your legs before he continued to pleasure you.
“Please,” You breathed out, almost relieved. You were relieved that you no longer had to beg for anything you deserved, because Peter was ready to give it to you instantly.
A shaking moan passed through your lips as Peter inserted a finger into you. He was slow at first, taking in your small, breathless moans; however he found his hunger for you growing.
He continued to work you with his mouth and finger, before inserting another digit. Pulling away from your heated skin, Peter spoke, “I wanna hear you say my name,” He breathed out.
“W-What?” You stuttered through your waves of pleasure.
“Wanna hear you say my name,” Peter repeated, “And I never want to hear you say his again,”
“Mm,” You groaned at his dominance.
“What was that?” Peter questioned, slowing his fingers that pumped in and out of you. It pained him to do so, he wanted to please you desperately, but he also wanted to prove his point.
“Yes,” You breathed out, “...please,”
“Please?” Peter questioned.
“Pleaseee,” You drew out, mustering the courage to speak his name in such an intimate setting, “Peter,”
“Good,” Peter’s lips curled into a subtle, cocky smile. His fingers found their previous pace before pumping even faster.
“Ff-fuck,” You moaned. You heard Peter hum in response, as if he was questioning you, “Peter,” You repeated his name. With that his smiling lips return to your clit, his tongue only increasing your pleasure, “I- I’m so close,”
“Need you to cum for me,” Peter spoke quickly before returning between your legs. He found a rhythm that made you a stuttering mess, and stuck with it.
“I’m- I’m going to cum,” You moaned, hand falling between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his soft, brown locks. Your hips jutted, meeting his tongue halfway with each thrust. You felt as if you were losing your mind, not sure when the last time you experienced this much pleasure was, “Fuck Peter- I’m-” Your words fell short as you came. Your eyes screwed shut as Peter continued to taste you. Waves of pleasure jutted through you, making your body twitch with each stroke from Peter’s tongue, “f-f fuck- too… too much,” You breathed out, hands trying to push Peter’s face away from you.
“Sorry,” Peter spoke, crawling up your body. He fell to his side, laying next to you on the bed, “How was that?” He watched your chest rise and fall as you attempted to catch your breath.
Small laughter fell from your parted lips as you realized just how long it was taking you to recover from the pleasure, “I… I haven’t felt like that in… well, in a long time,”
“And that’s a good thing? It was good?” Peter questioned, hoping that his attempt would make you forget all about your ex.
“No- Yeah,” You breathed, “I haven’t cum that hard in awhile,” You added, “Just… just give me a minute and we can keep going,”
“Keep going?” Peter questioned.
“Yeah. I mean, you’re probably really hard,” You spoke, “or… I hope you are,”
“Yeah,” Peter laughed, “I am. But we can stop,”
“Why?” Your head turned towards him from where you stared at the ceiling, “Do you not want me anymore?”
“What? No- I mean. I want you,” Peter spoke, “I really want you- but I. I want to take things slow… with you,” He studied your worried expression, “If that’s okay,”
“Oh… yeah,” You nodded, “I just. I thought you’d want me to return the favor,”
“Another time,” Peter spoke, “I’ll be waiting- but no rush,” He watched you laugh to yourself.
Peter was the kindest person you have met in a long time and it made you wonder why you even settled for anyone else.
“Fine,” You agreed, “but I thought you ‘wouldn’t be able to stop yourself’,” You almost teased, watching Peter roll onto his back next to you.
“Yeah, yeah,” He laughed.
“Yeah… so forgive me if I thought something was wrong,” You spoke sarcastically.
“I just- I didn’t want to do whatever he did,” Peter spoke, “Because I like you and I don’t just want to fuck you,” Peter spoke, “I just want you to understand that. And I want you to have time to get over him,”
“Thanks,” You spoke quietly, “...You wanna go make breakfast?”
#marvel smut#marvel fanfic#peter parker fanfic#peter parker fic#marvel fic#peter parker fan fic#spider man fanfic#spider man fanfiction#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#spiderman smut#spider man x reader#spiderman x reader#spider-man x reader#peter parker x y/n#peter parker x you#peter parker x reader
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𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝓊𝓍. 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝑒.
✿ summary: getting stranded at a party might not be the best thing ever, but meeting the famous french striker under mistletoe is definitely a plus
✿ ft. noel noa
sitting alone at the bar at a christmas party you weren't invited to wasn't the best feeling in the world. your best friend, who used you as her work partner's plus one, had left you, preferring to "work." the poor athletes were almost running from her if they saw her, leaving her to wallow in the corner without you.
the non-alcoholic drinks you were forced to consume as the designated driver weren't exactly helping you pass the time, only making your bladder feel smaller and smaller. getting up from the bar, you ventured deeper into the party to find the bathroom.
as you walked, your eyes couldn't help but wander around, trying to find your friend, but to no avail. you slowly remembered what happened right before you entered the party.
"[y/n]! you have to keep your eyes open!"
"what? take a breath-"
"i can't! not when noel noa is here!" she frantically flicked her head from side to side, scanning the empty streets like he was going to appear like magic.
“that’s the famous striker, right?”
"only the number one striker in the world! you have to find him and call me. if i see him here and interview him, i could get that promotion." she sounded hopeful, a smile on her face, but it dropped, her rbf shining through her happy persona when she saw your skeptical expression.
"pwease [y/n]~" she grabbed your hands and begged, almost getting down on her knees.
“ok, ok! i’ll help you find this guy. just please get off the floor. someone could have puked on that.”
"thank you, [y/n]!" her bone-crushing hug knocked the wind out of you. once that bodyguard let you in, she ran around like a chicken without a head, trying to find the mystery man. too bad you didn't know what the famous striker looked like. you didn't know his nationality or team; you just knew his name and the position he played. not very helpful.
the tinkling of martini glasses and the sound of heels across the marble floors echoed across the room. popping champagne bottles, squeals, screams, and forced laughter would occasionally pipe up, always sounding the same. a massive christmas tree filled with tinsel, ornaments, lights, and anything else you could imagine decorated the room perfectly, lighting up the space and almost brushing the towering ceilings. you felt like an ant in the room, as if the room knew you didn't belong here.
the bathroom line felt like eternity, like when you were younger and had a nightmare, that stupid clock ticking every second going on until you finally fell asleep under your blankets. soon the line dwindled and dwindled down until you finally could get in and out. you dried your hands on the air dryer and shook your hands to get any remaining water off as you walked out the door.
now, you have nothing to do. you didn't work for this company, hell, you didn't even know what they did. everyone here looked rich and reeked of money. at least when you were in line for the bathroom, you had a purpose. but now you were just standing there. you felt like a ghost, people passing through you, not even acknowledging your existence.
you just wanted to go back to the bar; who cared what look that bartender would give you. so that's what you did, walking past women with candy cane red lips and men who smelled like more than you would ever make in a lifetime. suits and dresses that seemed so foreign to you.
but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your friend in that velvet low-cut tight dress on the second-floor mezzanine. she was talking to some expensive-looking man with a girl probably half his age on his arm; she was putting on that fake smile and laugh.
she had left you for a solid two and a half hours; you were going to hang out with someone. and that someone was going to be her.
so you made your way to the luxurious stairs, cascading velvety carpets that could rival the British monarchs. you excused yourself when you bumped into someone and finally reached the stairs, some men coming down them.
while passing a rather tall and muscular man, one of his friends whistled and laughed at the man who paused, along with you. both of you turned to see his friends; the one whistling and giggling looked way too drunk to be going anywhere near stairs. the man was holding onto a bland-looking one with blue eyes who looked rather nervous, trying to steady the swaying one.
you shot him a confused glance, your eyebrows raising in confusion, before turning your attention to the man standing beside you. his head was tilted upward, his gaze fixated on an arrangement of ferns- mistletoe, delicately suspended above. the soft glow from twinkling fairy lights adorned the surroundings.
in that moment, realization dawned upon you, and your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and understanding. the air around you felt harder to inhale. you instinctively took a step back, caught off guard by the situation. however, the man beside you moved quicker than you’ve ever seen, his eyes widening in concern.
time seemed to slow as his arms encircled you, preventing any further descent down the stairs. the touch was both reassuring and electrifying. as you looked up into his eyes, you couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth that lingered. it felt so cliche.
"are you alright?" his voice was filled with genuine concern, and you could feel yourself relax into his arms with those words.
but even with his words, your mind trailed off, going to admire him. what was he? a model? his cologne smells expensive, like every other perfume and cologne here, but at the same time it was distinct. there was an underlying uniqueness, a grounding minimalism that set it apart. you couldn't quite pinpoint it, but it held an allure that was nothing like you ever felt before.
you felt gross, disgusted even at what you were doing, taking him in like this, memorizing the details- his scent, the curve of his lips. god, you felt like a pervert. you chided yourself, feeling a twinge of discomfort at your own actions.
"i'm fine... sorry about that," you stammered, breaking the spell of your silent observations. awkwardness settled in, magnified by the awareness that his friends, the blonde one with a sly smirk and the black-haired one appearing uneasy, were keenly observing the exchange. your gaze flickered between them, questioning the dynamics of the trio.
"it’s fine. as long as you’re alright." the moment ended with him helping you back onto your feet, looking you over to double-check if you weren't lying.
"it's fine. as long as you're alright," he reassured, gracefully helping you back onto your feet. his lingering concern painted a genuine sincerity across his features, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of gratitude. as the moment concluded, his eyes scanned over you once more, ensuring your well-being.
“don’t forget-” hick “to kiss you two,” the drunk man laughed hard, almost falling off of the bland one's shoulder who grabbed him quickly.
"don't forget-" a hiccup interrupted the drunken man's proclamation, “to kiss you two,” he abruptly erupted into laughter, teetering dangerously on the edge of his bland companion's shoulder.
who the hell was this guy? your life wasn't some circus to watch, forcing you to kiss this random stranger.
"i'm sorry about him," the boy apologized, his eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and genuine remorse. "come on, let's go." he attempted to drag the blonde one down the stairs, who continued to whine about wanting to witness some "action." eventually, the duo disappeared, leaving you and the intriguing white-haired man alone on the stairs.
the silence that followed carried a unique tension, the remnants of an awkward encounter mingling with the loud ambiance of the surroundings. The mistletoe above seemed to cast a soft glow, as if nature itself was conspiring against you two.
"that guy’s something," you remarked, breaking the quietude with a light-hearted tone, attempting to diffuse the lingering discomfort. The white-haired man offered a wry smile, his eyes holding a subtle amusement that hinted at shared bemusement.
“so… why are you here?” you ask him to try to prolonged the conversation for as long as possible.
"They're organizing this celebration for my team."
“you’re team?” you ask a little confused.
“Bastard München” he responds curtley.
Realization finally dawns on you, and you recognize the man in front of you.
“are you- are you noel noa?” you stammered, feeling like some teenage girl. you didn’t even know much about this guy, but your friend went on and on about him. you always tuned her out, but she seemed so passionate about him.
“kiss! smoochie smoochie time~!”
“kaiser!”
"get-" a loud grunting noise left the blonde, and a squawking noise left the other, "off of me, isagi!" they struggled against each other, arms reaching out to try and push them off each other.
“i thought they left,” you tried to laugh but when you looked back at the famous man in front of you, you stopped. his face almost seemed blank with a tinge of surprise if you could even call it that.
“it can’t be helped,” he sighed, his voice carrying a gentle undertone that resonated with unspoken emotions. as he reached up, his fingers delicately traced the outline of your face, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his eyes, a reflection of emotions too deep for words, held yours in a silent conversation.
a quiet pause lingered in the air, building anticipation, before he slowly leaned in. in that moment, time seemed to suspend, and the world around you faded away.
his breath, warm against your skin, and as he closed the distance between you, his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss starting with a tender press of lips. both of your arms remained at your sides not wanting to overstep the invisible boundary. even without hands, it was as if each touch was a gentle caress, a delicate deliberate pressure. the sensation was feather-light, a sweet brush of affection that spoke volumes in its subtlety. each movement was a caress, as if exploring the contours of your lips in a sweet, unhurried dance. it was the opposite of forceful, a slow, deliberate exploration, leaving a lingering warmth.
even when he pulled away, cheeks dusted pink, promising his manager would send you tickets to the next match, you could still smell that expensive cologne after he left.
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i knew
summary: 4 times you knew steve loved you + 1 time you knew you loved him
word count: 3.3k
a/n: title from the lizzy song where i got the idea from. i truly didn’t plan on this being as long as it is but i got carried away. takes place leading up to volume one. there’s a small amount of angst at the end but it’s mostly just lovesick idiots.
masterlist!
1. when he gets you a card
The day is slow at the bookstore but you don’t mind. It had been a week from hell as far as you were concerned and you felt like the universe owed you at least a small semblance of peace in the form of a quiet, late morning shift. When noon rolls around, the bell above the door rings.
“Welcome in,” you call out without looking towards the door. Your customer service voice sounds nothing like you and you subconsciously wrinkle your nose at the sound of it. You’ve made yourself busy behind the counter, still not looking up even when there’s no response, and hope whoever it is doesn’t need any immediate help.
Your back is turned for a moment and someone clears their throat behind you. You let out a small huff through your nose. “Can I help you?”
The words die in your throat when you turn around and lock eyes with Steve who’s all sly smiles and shining eyes. Your own smile slides across your face at the sight of him. He nods at your question. “Yeah, I was wondering if you knew where I could drop this off to make sure my girlfriend gets it?”
He holds up a small white envelope, your name etched across the back of it in blue ink. Your smile grows as you lean against the counter and hold out your hand. “What’s this for?”
Steve sets it into your open palm, watching carefully as you set it down on the counter. Your fingertips trace over the writing on the back and you feel an eager anticipation to rip into it and read what’s inside.
“Just because. I know you’ve been having a bit of a rough week so I thought I'd surprise you at work but then I got the idea on the way over to get a little something to surprise you with,” he says and the sound of your giggle floats through the air.
“A bit, is putting it lightly, but consider me surprised,” you joke, though it’s mostly true. He smiles softly.
“I thought maybe a card would help cheer you up or something. There’s a dinner date invitation for tonight included with it,” he says, reaching out across the counter to brush the back of his knuckles against your cheek. A warm trail follows in their wake.
“Stevie..” your voice is soft, caught between awe and disbelief. He’s rambling, over-explaining in hopes that you like it.
“I was worried for a second because when I got to the car, I realized I didn’t have a pen to write in it so I had to run back inside and ask for one and this little old lady gave me one from, like, the bottom of her purse and-” he pauses when he notices you swipe your finger underneath your eye with a sniffle. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, sniffling and letting out a wet laugh. The built up tension from the week mixed with the sudden swoop of emotion from Steve’s loving gesture brings tears to your eyes and you wipe at your wet cheeks. “Yeah I’m okay. This is just really sweet, I love it. I love you.”
His concerned frown morphs into a giddy smile and his eyes light up. You step around the checkout counter of the bookstore you work at to wrap your arms around his middle. His arms instinctively wrap themselves around you, holding you against him. He presses a kiss to your head. “I love you, too.”
And you feel it melting off of him and onto you as you hug him. A deep radiating warmth that makes your skin tingle and your heart jump against your ribcage. You feel it again later when you get home, finally opening the sealed envelope and reading the note he put inside before you get ready for dinner.
A whole mini love letter specifically designed for you, and signed by Steve in a messy scrawl of his handwriting.
2. when he walks you to your door
There’s a magic that comes to Steve Harrington loving you, you’re convinced. It’s the sole explanation you can come up with for the way everything seems to click into place, anything bad slipping into the shadows as you sit across from him at Enzo’s. Or when he makes you laugh just that much harder, the sweetness of the message in the card still stuck in a loop in your brain, as he drives you home.
He insists on walking you to your door when he drops you off after dinner that night, ignoring your protests about your front door being only a few feet away and that nothing was going to get you. He holds your hand under the yellow porch light and somehow he still looks heavenly underneath it.
You feel sixteen again standing on your porch waiting for a kiss goodnight after a first date. A warm feeling buzzes in your chest as you stare at him, his eyes regarding you like you just sewed the stars into the sky above you.
“Thank you,” you say, soft tone of voice blending in with the hum of electricity and crickets in the yard. There’s a gentle smile on his face but a question lurking behind his eyes.
“For what?” it's a small murmur, thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands extended in between the both of you. You glance down at them, lifting your shoulder in a brief shrug.
“For…everything, I dunno,” you look back up at him, eyes almost doe like in their softness. “Specifically the card and dinner. And just for being you.”
Steve squeezes your hands three times, a silent I love you, a gentle reminder. His smile widens and he takes a step forward, closing the already limited space between you. Two moths flutter under the porch light just above his head and he takes a second to swat them away.
“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you,” his cadence is like a melody to your ears, the warmth in your chest swelling until it spills over into the rest of your body. You take a small step forward this time, joined hands falling to make room for your chest to brush his.
One of his hands comes up to brush against your cheek, palm pressing flat against it and tilting your head to press his lips to yours. Your heart flutters like the moths above, body caving into his like a moth drawn to a flame. That teenage feeling hits again and you can’t help the smile you let slip into the kiss.
You pull back a hair, nose bumping his and the taste of his smile still on your tongue. “Something tells me you might have a crush on me, Harrington.”
You can feel the breath from his laugh against your face, giggling as his nose brushes yours and he shakes his head. He mutters a soft shut up, swallowing your giggles as he kisses you again and again, until you’re breathless and a little dizzy. You step back with a smile that’s a little shy.
When you say goodnight, he squeezes your hands again and leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek instead. You watch him walk back to his car, waving from the door until he’s turning the ignition. And when the door shuts, you’re pressing your back against it, listening to the hum of the engine as he drives off, a giddy smile taking up permanent residence on your face.
3. when he ties your shoe for you
It’s snowing when the two of you come out of the movie theater and there’s a harsh nip in the wind that rushes by. You’re shoving your free hand and the one connected to Steve’s into the pockets of your coat. He’s talking with his one hand, voice animated as he shares his opinions about the movie you had just watched.
You nod along, laughing a little under your breath. It’s not a long walk to where his car is parked but it feels like an eternity for how cold it is. Snowflakes land in your eyelashes and you blink them away, eyes landing on one that rests on the slope of Steve’s nose. He subconsciously wrinkles his nose, the movement melting it into his skin.
As you walk, the laces of your right shoe unravel from their bow. The ends hitting against the sliver of exposed ankle from your jeans alert you and you look down. He’s mid-sentence and you feel a little bad when you interrupt him. “Oh! Hold that thought, my shoe’s untied.”
You pause, Steve stopping in sync with you in the middle of the deserted sidewalk. He lets go of your hand but as you start to bend down, he stops you. He’s already stepping in front of you and dropping to the ground when he says, “Here, let me.”
You watch with an enamored smile as his fingers work the laces into a double knot. The snow on the ground makes his hair look a darker brown and you wonder if his fingers are aching from the cold. The snow falling from the sky is starting to turn into sleet, wet when it lands against your cheek and in his hair.
“There,” he taps the inside of your shoe. Steve looks up, a small grin on his face. You feel it again as he’s looking at you. That all encompassing warmth, a tingling serenity that comes from the certainty that he loves you. So much so that he’d drop down to tie your shoe for you. “All done.”
The tip of his nose is pink from the frost bitten air outside and you can’t feel your cheeks all that much any more, but you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. You grin, offering your hand to help pull him up from the low squat he’s in.
“My Prince Charming,” you tease, shoulder nudging his side as you relace your fingers together. He shakes his head, pressing a searing kiss to your rather cold cheek.
When you reach his car, he doesn’t open your door right away. Instead, he cradles your face in his hands. His hands are somehow warm despite the weather but maybe your cheeks are just cold. You don’t get much time to think about it as he brings his face down to yours, catching your lips in a searing kiss that warms the both of you up just fine.
You look a little dazed when he pulls back, blinking slowly with stars in your eyes. The kiss had taken you a little by surprise and your voice comes out quiet and a little shy when you ask, “What was that for?”
“Just love you,” he kisses the tip of your chill-bitten nose and reaches around you to open your door. You can’t bite back the giddy love sick smile that spreads while you sit in the car and watch him cross in front to get to the driver’s side.
4. when he learns your favorite song
The weather starts to ease later in the week with the days growing slightly warmer and the lingering patches of snow lining the roads melting into the ground. Even still, you layer one of your heavier jackets over top a sweatshirt of Steve’s before heading out to see him.
When you pull into the parking lot of Family Video, it’s nearly deserted save for the all too familiar red BMW. The interior is even more deserted when you step inside, the bell over the door barely heard from the music being played from the old boombox on the counter.
You briefly notice Robin restocking towards the back but your attention is pulled entirely to your boyfriend, swaying a little to the mixtape playing and singing along just barely. He doesn’t see you come in, and he definitely didn’t hear you either.
Whitney Houston’s, How Will I Know, plays through the speakers and as you step closer, Steve finally turns around and nearly jumps at the sight of you. His cheeks start to burn and you grin at the soft red that stretches from cheek to cheek. He turns the volume down enough to hear you when you speak as you lean against the counter.
“Since when do you listen to Whitney Houston?” you’re half teasing, half genuinely curious. Your smile twists into something a little bit confused and Steve thinks the way your eyebrows furrow a little as you tilt your head has to be the cutest thing he’s seen all day. He shrugs, leaning across until your forearms are touching.
“Since you mentioned this being your favorite song,” he says it in a way that’s nonchalant but the way you react is anything but. Your whole body warms making it almost entirely too hot for your layers. You flip one of your hands palm up, watching as Steve’s fingers dance across the skin before sliding easily into place between yours.
Until now, you hadn’t thought Steve had heard you when you turned his radio on driving home from the movie theater. You had tuned through the channels, landing on the one that was playing How Will I Know and increasing the volume while softly remarking, “Oh! I love this song.”
“I hadn’t thought you heard me,” your voice is soft again, an enamored look in your eyes as you make eye contact with Steve. There’s something like thick honey, something more intensely tender and affectionate than normal in his gaze and you can feel yourself sinking deep into it.
“I always hear you,” you can feel that same warmth again, sitting deep in your chest and making your face feverish to the touch. Your emotions are on cloud nine and in a blink you’re pushing forward on your toes over the counter, to kiss your boyfriend. One of your palms lays flat on his cheek, holding him to you.
“Oh gross, guys, really?” Robin says, though her voice holds no real disgust. You break apart from Steve with a laugh, feet falling flat back onto the ground. Your smile is love sick and it matches the look in Steve’s eyes as he rolls them at his best friend.
You squeeze his hand three times, quick, almost fleeting and let yourself get carried away by the feeling of his all-consuming love for you when he squeezes back.
5. when you can’t fall asleep at night
When you had walked in on Steve singing along to your favorite song a month earlier, you never thought the sweetness of the memory would’ve held the weight it does now. Now, you have How Will I Know on a looping tape sitting in the glovebox of his car as a precautionary.
A twinge of guilt is quick to bite when you let yourself feel an ounce of relief that you haven’t needed to use it because every moment you’re not using yours, Max is using hers. Beneath it all is a deep feeling of unease, one that hasn’t left since you were in the Creel House.
Steve’s hand finds yours beneath the sheets, squeezing three times saying both I love you and I’m here for you all at once. It makes your heart feel like it’s going to burst and you smile weakly at him but it doesn’t reach your eyes.
Your body feels tired, limbs heavy with exhaustion and the weight of your never-ending worry. His bed is as cozy as ever and his sheets smell like him, the scent of his shampoo joining the mix from the damp hair on both of your heads. It’s grounding and for a minute you think you might actually be able to get some sleep tonight.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve says, deep hints of concern swirling in his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Just thinking,” you say, voice a little muffled from your cheek being squished against the pillow. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you follow the movement with your eyes.
“About..?” he muses, slowly trying to work it out of you. You know what he’s doing, almost hate that he knows you as well as he does.
“How I never would’ve imagined my favorite song leading us to this moment,” you say and Steve gives you a minute in case you have more to say. “I’m so scared, Steve. And I know we’ve done this whole monster fighting before but it feels…different this time.”
It’s hard to really read his expression in the dim light of his bedside lamp, the lightbulb is dying and you had jumped earlier when it flickered. His thumb rubs soothing circles across the back of your hand.
“You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right?” he asks after a minute and you nod.
“I know that,” it’s a barely there whisper. You don’t say anything else.
“Besides, we’ve got Whitney Houston on speed dial if anything happens,” he means it as a joke but there’s no denying the seriousness lingering in the background. Regardless, it gets a smile out of you albeit small.
“Wish we could have one more normal moment with it,” you confess and Steve’s lips quirk up a little.
“What I wouldn’t give to hear Henderson beg me to turn it off just so he doesn’t have to hear us sing along anymore,” the memory causes you to giggle, making the worries plaguing your mind slip away momentarily into the shadows. He can’t help the grin that rises at the sound.
“He was so mad at us,” you agree, the pit in your chest being replaced with the fire of fond memories. Your giggles fade into a silence.
“We’ll have more normal moments with it,” Steve says. He moves to share your pillow, your noses touching and his breath warm against your face. He tilts his head up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead and murmurs against your skin, “I promise.”
He kisses you once, reassuring and soft and it feels like home. After a promise from you that it was okay, he lets go of your hand and turns over to click the bedside lamp off. The darkness takes your eyes a second to get used to but you can still feel Steve pressed close to you. Your legs are a mess of limbs, bodies interwoven so you’re not sure where you start and he ends.
You’re so familiar with the feeling you get when you’re reminded how much Steve loves you and as you listen to the steady rhythm of his breathing, you feel it tenfold with how much you love him. He’s falling asleep in front of you and suddenly you feel overwhelmed he even exists.
Steve who always steps first into the battle. Steve who worries so much about everyone else, he barely has time to worry about himself. Steve who doesn’t think twice before protecting the people he loves, even if it leaves him with a busted lip and a black eye. Steve who lets you sleep in his bed whenever the nightmares resurface and you can’t sleep alone.
Through the moonlight filtering in through his curtains, you can make out the fluttering of his eyelids. You chew on your bottom lip, rolling over the constant stream of thoughts in your head. After a minute, you give in.
“Steve?” your voice sounds so small.
“Hm?”
It’s muffled and barely audible but your hesitancy bleeds into relief when you hear him.
“I love you. I love you so much,” your chest tightens in the best way when a sleepy grin slides onto his face, his eyes still closed.
“”M’love you, too,” his words are slurred, thick with sleep.
This time, you smooth the, now dry, hair back from his forehead and press a soft kiss to the space revealed. You settle back against the pillow, smiling when he finds your hand in his sleep driven state and squeezes. Your Steve, who even in sleep, makes sure you know how much he loves you.
#am actually loving this one#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things#📝: a writes!
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Lizzi's Kinktober 2023
Day 15: Mask Kink
October 30th, 2023
Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary: Matt really loves to eat you out.
Warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (18+ MINORS DNI), black suit Matt supremacy, Dom!Matt, mask kink, unprotected p in v, fingering, orgasm denial, slight spanking, bondage (use of ropes), use of "good girl", praise, not proofread
Word Count: ~2.5k
A/n: This is dedicated to @sunaspotato because her mask kink made my mask kink worse. And since she’s on this hellsite too now and wanted to read this, here you go. (Also, I hope you can still look me in the eyes after this. If not, I sincerely apologize. It’s different when one of the people reading this is someone I know irl so I hope I didn’t disappoint with this.)
The air coming in through the half-open bedroom window brushes coldly against your heated skin.
You never thought you would end up in this position. So… vulnerable. Hunted like prey. It was never your intention. And yet, here you are now. Your wrists are tied to the bedpost with a harsh, greyish rope that isn’t yours, your sheer nightgown torn to shreds and discarded somewhere in the room.
You’re helpless. Hopeless, also. Your friends have told you time and time again that you trust too easily, and maybe that is true. You can be colorblind to the existence of red flags. When you look danger in the eyes, you tend to gravitate toward it and not away, which has put you in trouble more times than you can count. You have shit judgment, to say the least, so it should come as no surprise that you are in this position.
He has walked you home before. A few nights ago, a man tried to mug you after you missed the last bus of the night on your way home from work, and even though you cooperated, you had a bad feeling you weren’t going to make it out of this alive. He was about to steal all the money you had left in your purse, your phone, and everything else dear to you.
Out of nowhere though, a dark figure emerged. He wore a mask made out of some sort of used fabric, a little white peeking through where it kept his eyes hidden from the world. His lips caught your attention right away. They were curled up into a smirk. He looked as if he had no emotions left in him, he only saw red where you saw none, and he beat the man trying to steal from you to a bloody pulp right at your feet.
You should have been terrified, but the fear turned into a quick thrill, and it made you more careless than it made you careful.
“You shouldn’t be out here on your own,” he said to you.
Foolish of him to think he could tell you what to do, but he was right. He shouldn’t have been out there on your own.
Next thing you knew, he offered to walk you home. Him on the rooftops of the city, you below. And you felt safer. You agreed; you talked to him, and you let the danger right into your life.
From the second you first laid your wide eyes on the stranger, there has been something so forbiddingly arousing about the image in your head. His plump lips, his tongue, his sharp jawline, and the chiseled chest that he keeps hidden away underneath a tight, black shirt. Not to mention his thighs and the ass he is definitely not hiding in those pants.
It is so arousing, you have not uttered a word about it to anyone. If you told anyone the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen saved your life and belongings a few nights ago and has walked you home from work every night since then, they would surely call you crazy. Perhaps you are, but you have no shame about it. You are ashamed that he does something to your neglected soul, something a stranger in a mask should not do, but you are not ashamed that you haven’t told him off. Maybe you should be, but you can’t possibly find an ounce in your that cares.
Even though it wasn’t planned and it took you off guard, you let him in when he knocked on your windows tonight, begging you to stitch him up. His panting and the way he groaned whenever the needle threaded through his skin didn’t help with this strange attraction you have been harboring.
He noticed. You’re not sure how, but he noticed that you were getting turned on by his presence, and it was only a question of time until he would snap. In the end, he did about half an hour into your putting bandages on his battle scars.
Now you’re tied to the bed, naked and vulnerable to the man in the mask at the foot of your bed, but your heart is not beating out of your chest out of fear. It’s the pulse between your legs that is the most prominent, and the danger only sends the pleasure you’re experiencing to new pinnacles.
He isn’t going to show you his face, he told you as much. Lucky for you, you do not want or need him to. The thought of getting fucked by a man you have no idea what he looks like is as arousing as it is exciting. The mask on his face only enhances the feeling of being completely exposed to the prying eyes of danger, and you don’t want to miss this feeling again for the world. If that makes you perverted or mentally deranged, you don’t have a problem with that. You’ve been told that your delusions will be the death of you one day, so maybe it’s time to live your truth.
The man paces around your bed. Eventually, he opens those plump lips again. He asks, “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
“What I’m doing to you?” you question, your voice barely above a broken whisper. He’s got you right where he wants you.
“You’re supposed to be scared of me.”
You want to sit up, but the ropes keep you locked in place.
“You were supposed to run away,” he says. “But you didn’t.”
“I don’t scare easily,” you tell him.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Why he sounds so bitter all of a sudden, you’re not sure.
You let out a shaky breath. “I’m not scared of you,” you say, a lot surer this time.
The stranger bares his teeth for a moment, then closes his mouth again. God, those lips. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, and somehow you already miss him.
“I can smell you, you know. I can smell how fucking wet you are for me. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to control myself when you’re so wet?” he says. It’s a rhetorical question. “You want me to fuck you so badly, and you don’t even know me.”
You blush beet red. You’re not sure how he can smell that you’re wet, even with your thighs clenched so tightly together. There are a lot of things you ask yourself, and for a second you wonder if you made a mistake, but if he knows that you are desperate to be touched by him, there is no chance in hell you will be able to lie your way out of this.
You want this. You want him. And there is no denying the obvious; he wants you, too.
His cock is straining against his pants. He is packed, you can tell. You wish you could see him, even just a small glimpse of skin, but he keeps himself hidden away. That’s how it’s going to be. He’s not going to give himself away, and you’re not going to protest, no matter how wrong this may be.
You want him to fuck you, and he wants to fuck you. There is only one way this is going to end.
The bed creaks. His gloved hand meets your bare thigh, and you shudder. Your mouth falls open. The rough texture hiding his fingertips rubs against the sensitive hairs on your body. It makes your toes curl.
“Don’t move away from me,” his mouth is suddenly so close to your ear.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” you choke out. He has a chokehold on your lungs and the oxygen that is supposed to pass through them.
His teeth show when he chuckles this time. It’s a breathless chuckle that sends even more shivers down your spine until you can’t feel anything but him. His breath, his hand, his body—you are completely consumed by him.
“Matthew,” he whispers in your ear. “My name’s Matthew.”
He told you his name. Does he trust you enough not to ask questions? Not that you have it in you to do so, but it throws you off for a moment.
He told you his name. The masked stranger who refuses to even take his gloves off told you his name. Your mind reels. You’re interpreting too much into this, but how can you not? You are completely infatuated.
You’re infatuated with the devil.
The heavy leather of his gloves thuds to the ground next to the bed. When his bare fingers touch you, you’re almost halfway on your way to heaven.
You let out a soft moan that sends the heat to your cheeks. Your heartbeat pulsates in your ear. You can hear your blood rushing. Can he hear it too?
“Tell me it’s okay.”
You blink at his demand.
“Tell me it’s okay to touch you,” he says. “I need to hear you say it.”
The words elude you for a moment. “I–” You swallow as you look at his covered face. “Yes,” the consent rolls off your lips softly but surely. “I want you to…touch me.”
He lets out a sigh of relief. This is the most human you have seen him. “Thank you,” he says.
You open your mouth again to respond, to tell him that he has nothing to thank you for, but he shuts you up by thrusting two of his thick fingers into your tight cunt all at once.
Your words turn into a loud moan that bounces off your apartment walls. You struggle against the restraints, wanting to wrap around his wrist, but you have nowhere to go. Your walls clench around the intrusion, but he pushes through, his fingertips brushing over that one sweet spot that has you seeing stars within seconds. And once he has found that spot, there is no going back.
The lewdest cacophony of wetness and heady moans turns into a crescendo. He is playing your keys so delicately, your entire body locks up. The wave keeps on building until it has turned into the size of a tsunami, ready to destroy whatever is in its path.
He moves his digits in and out of you, brushing against that spot every time he thrusts back in, and he pushes even deeper until he’s filled you up completely to the brim. He reaches parts of you that you never knew existed, and he does it over and over and over again until there is not much more you can take.
His free hand grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to meet the darkness of his mask. Somehow, that makes your walls clench ever harder around him. He smirks. Oh, that shit-eating smirk is going to be the death of you, you’re sure. At the same time though, you want to wipe it off his face.
“Look at me,” he says.
You have no choice but to comply, as ironic as it sounds.
“Good girl.”
The subtle praise makes your nails draw blood from your palms, the robe rubbing against the sensitive skin of your wrists and probably doing just the same. You’re going to be bloody and bruised tomorrow. You’re going to carry his marks.
You’re his now.
“Are you gonna come?” his breath tickles your ear.
All you can muster is a weak nod.
“Good,” he says. “Don’t.”
You must have misheard him. “What?!” you stammer. “But–”
“No.”
Fucking with danger is as hot as it is frustrating, it seems.
His fingers pull out of you suddenly, roughly—you are left with a gaping emptiness that makes your thighs clench, and your throat emits a whine that you are not used to hearing from yourself.
“Please,” you beg. You never beg. Not like this. “Please, Matthew, I… I’m sorry.”
What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything wrong. But he makes you feel like you did. He makes you feel like you deserve to feel so pathetic, and that he owns your orgasms.
He owns you.
Well, shit.
The ropes around your wrists disappear for a moment. A moment of mercy, you think, but he is quick to flip you onto your stomach. The bed creaks again. You catch a glimpse of his smirk again. His mask. His body. His cock. It looks like he touched himself while he fingered you, his cock pink and weeping as it stands tall against his stomach. You want to reach out and touch it, a rare beauty, a rare sight, but once again, you are disappointed.
He flips you over, and he ties your hands back to the headboard. You’re once again trapped.
A series of cries, “Please, please, please!” Passes your lips. You kick your feet, you say his name, and you moan when his lips travel down your exposed back. You would do anything for more, and you try to, but he won’t let up.
This is what you get for making foolish choices.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he rasps. His hand collides with your backside, and you cry out. The pain turns into the sweetest pleasure, making your clit throb in need. You can’t withstand him. “I’m far from done with you. You asked for this, remember?”
The way he says it sends shivers down your spine.
When his thick cock penetrates your tight walls, forcing your legs to stay together as he pushes his way forward, you surrender. Your jaw slacks in a needy moan. He’s got you wrapped around his finger and his cock, and the feelings he elicits in you are so inhuman, you get addicted. He’s a drug. He’s dangerous.
But danger has never looked so fucking good before.
Besides, you brought this upon yourself when you let him into your bed. When you asked him to fuck you like no one has ever fucked you before. When you gave him consent to touch you. And when you let him take you like this, you surrendered yourself to him all over again. All of you. Your mind, body, and soul. You gave it all to him. You’re his now.
His. His. His. It keeps repeating in your mind as he pounds into you, and God, it is good. It is so good, you lose yourself, and you never want to go back.
The stranger in the mask is what you need. He is all you will ever need.
You asked for this.
You made a deal with the devil and now you have to pay your dues.
Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @ravenclaw617 @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch
Also tagging: @blackshadowswriter @1988-fiend
#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock smut#daredevil x reader#daredevil smut#black suit supremacy#kinktober#kinktober 2023#lizzi writes#charlie cox
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Inspired by the photo loving Suguru ✨️🤍
Can I request reader getting mildly injured after a mission, maybe a head bump or a knee scrape, and Suguru suggests getting ice cream with their friends to cheer her up?
hand under my sweatshirt, baby kiss it better
wc: 0.7k
cw/tags: swearing, mild hurt/comfort, angst if you really squint, mostly just fluff and suguru taking care of you
note: HII SWIRRLEY you always have the most fun suguru asks and i love writing them :D nothing like some good ol' character A sitting on a sink while character B cleans up their wound. i hope you like this one !!!!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
“I’m going to pick Satoru’s eyelashes off one by one for making me cover him, I swear on all things–”
"Shit, the hell happened to you?" He leans against the doorframe of the bathroom, watching you clean up the scrape on your elbow as your legs dangle off the edge of the sink. Your hand unconsciously jerks away when the saturated cotton pad meets the tender flesh and you curse for the umpteenth time under your breath. It was a little ironic, a semi-grade one sorcerer reduced to a swearing, sputtering mess. You flinch again as a stray drop of isopropyl alcohol drips onto the cut and his eyebrows furrow. “You need some help there, Doc?”
“I don’t need your condescension right now, Su,” you mutter, hands shaky and vision blurry from the aching pain on your arm. “Just say ‘I told you so’ and leave me be.”
“There’s a difference between condescension and genuine concern, dear,” he says patiently, crossing the tile in two long strides and plucking the cotton pad from your fingers. “Right now, I’m trying to convey the latter. If anything, I’m gonna kick Satoru’s ass for making you go without me in the first place.” He tosses it into the trash bin before grabbing a washcloth and wetting the corner with warm water. You eye him warily, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he expectantly holds out a hand for you to rest your elbow on. “Well?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I want to take care of you? Because you got hurt and I want you to feel better?” He states what should be obvious facts to you with an air of exasperation and you frown, turning your face to the side in burning shame. You weren’t used to this, someone caring about your wellbeing after a mission. Sure, Shoko and Satoru liked to pester you about what to eat for dinner as soon as your shoes slipped off, but Suguru was the only one who actually checked to make sure you were okay. “You don’t have to be embarrassed that I see you like this. Heaven knows you’ve seen me at worse,” he quips and your mouth turns up into the slightest smirk. He was right; you’d definitely patched him up more times than you can count on both hands and probably both feet, too. After a few more moments of hesitation, you sit your arm in his palm.
“Thank you, Su, for–ow, fucking fuck,” you hiss when the cloth meets the scrape and he murmurs an apology under his breath. “So, was the alcohol overkill?”
“A little bit, yeah,” he smiles and it makes your stomach flutter. “It’s okay, though. At least we know you’re not going to get an infection.”
“To be fair, Shoko told me to clean it up with alcohol first.”
“Shoko also told you she plans to cheat on her med school exams,” he reminds you and you huff in defeat, much to his entertainment. “I’m just glad I found you before you gripped the counter so hard, it broke.”
“Okay, now who’s being overkill?”
“Doesn’t matter if I am, because I just distracted you long enough to clean up your wound.” He shrugs proudly and you gape at him for a few seconds, completely forgetting what he was doing there in the first place. Right, he was cleaning up your scrape, but why did you get so distracted with him in such close proximity? “How are you feeling now?”
“Much better,” you admit and he nods in understanding, fingers lightly brushing your skin around where you collided with the rocky concrete.
“That’s good. Change your clothes and meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes.” He dusts his hands off like he’d performed some sort of life-altering surgery, tossing the dirty towel over his shoulder and heading for the door.
“Huh?” You think you’re still slightly delirious and imagining his words.
“Let’s go get ice cream with Shoko and Satoru, my treat,” he calls over his shoulder, shooting you a grin that makes your legs turn to jelly. “You definitely deserve it.” Hopping down from the sink, you jokingly shout down the hallway after him and he waves his hand dismissively.
“Are you in love with me, Geto Suguru?”
“Something like that!”
if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)
#geto x you#geto x reader#geto x y/n#suguru x you#suguru x reader#suguru x y/n#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#suguru fluff#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader
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all this growth and this decay
[Steddie | T+ | 2,9k | ao3]
you will open your wounds / and make them a garden
—Wale Ayinla
One of the weirder things in the aftermath of hell dimensions and surviving by the skin of his teeth is seeing Steve Harrington kneel in the middle of a flowerbed, elbow-deep in soil.
Eddie watches him for a little longer than he probably should; the methodical movements of his hands, hair pushed back carelessly, the skin revealed by the loose tank top that, frankly, should not be doing it as much for Eddie as it does.
Sue him; he survived the apocalypse, so he might as well enjoy the aftermath.
“If you’re determined on staring, Munson, at least hand me the hose, will you?” Steve says without turning around, not sounding too bothered about it. Eddie’s still glad that the sticky summer heat hides the flush that rises to his cheeks at having been caught.
“What are you doing anyway?” he asks, once he nudges Steve with the hose and drops down to sit next to him on the warm stone.
Beyond the property, the forest is humming with the August afternoon, everything bright and languid and achingly peaceful.
“If the bushes aren’t taken care of regularly—“
“Not that,” Eddie cuts in with a huff of laughter. “Why are you gardening in the first place? Didn’t exactly take you for the homey type.”
Steve cuts a glance at him, all raised brow and judgmental twist to his mouth. “What, not metal enough for you? Expecting me to chew on Demobats in my free time?”
“Yikes, don’t say that. You know what I mean.”
Steve shrugs, all casual, and scans the rose he has been working on as if it is the most fascinating thing in the world.
Eddie looks at Steve the same way, so perhaps it is a good thing that Steve isn’t looking back.
“Do you know what a pain rose bushes are if you let them run riot?”
Eddie doesn’t; if anyone had asked him ten minutes ago if he thought that Steve Harrington might have the answer, he would have laughed.
Which, really, is probably on him; the last couple of months should have gotten him used to Steve constantly flipping the script on him.
“Still, didn’t expect you to do it yourself,” he says, watching the careful way Steve’s hands push the soil into place.
Steve shrugs, still not looking at Eddie. “It’s nice. I don’t mind.”
It’s the way he says it, quiet and a little tired; or perhaps it’s the way he brushes his fingers over the dark green leaves, his expression oddly pensive. Or, perhaps, it’s all Eddie reading into things—in the end, it doesn’t really matter.
In the end, he watches as Steve waters the rose bushes, careful not to wet the leaves, and chews on the feeling that the explanation he has been given covers only the smallest part of it.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t explain why Hawkins High’s former king suddenly took up gardening; fortunately, Eddie has always liked a bit of a riddle.
---
For the most part, Eddie does not, in fact, think too much about it. Between navigating Hawkins and its continued animosity, the kids, and his ever-growing crush, it isn’t exactly among the top ten things he has on his mind.
He’s reminded of it once October rolls around, the days golden and cool in the evenings.
He spends most of his time at the Harrington residence these days, some nights with Robin, others—most—only the two of them, talking and watching movies and spinning fantastical plans for a future that Eddie still struggles to believe he is allowed to have.
It’s a rainy afternoon, the first real cold one of the season, when he arrives after his physical therapy. Truth be told, the main reason he still goes at all is that Max would never forgive him if he quit, and he still hasn’t learned how to say no to her in the slightest.
The house lies quiet and dim when he lets himself in, which is unusual in itself. For the briefest second, panic wants to climb up his spine, but he pushes it down. Takes a deep breath and walks through the foyer into the living room, and the air still trips out of his lungs with relief when he finds the patio door open, curtains billowing.
The rain has slowed to a drizzle, but puddles are scattered across the porch, and the ground beyond is a riot of colors from the maple trees’ leaves.
On the far end, Steve is kneeling in front of the rose bushes, a stack of cut fir branches beside him.
Eddie grimaces at the gray sky and pulls his jacket closer around himself. In the end, his curiosity wins out, though (or, if he’s honest it’s all concern, but these days any pretense about all the godforsaken emotions Steve causes in him is a welcome one, in Eddie’s books. There is only so much a guy can take before he has to have some serious concerns for his own sanity).
“Hey,” Steve says, once Eddie comes up to him. “I didn’t expect you back this early; you can wait inside if you want, no use in us both getting drenched.”
It’s such a Steve thing to say. Eddie’s fingers are itching to run through Steve’s wet hair, to tip his head back. To make him look at Eddie, perhaps become a horrible, pathetic cliché and kiss him right here in the quiet rain.
“What are you doing here anyway?” he asks instead, burying his hands in his pockets.
“Winter-proofing,” Steve says, as if that makes any sense. “They dislike soil frost.”
Eddie blinks. “Okay but—can that not wait until it’s, you know. Not raining?”
It finally gets Steve to look up at him, a small crease between his brows. The hoodie he is wearing is washed out, fraying at the seams, and he looks tired.
Then again, he always does; it is just rare not to see him pretend otherwise.
“It’s impossible to say how far the temperature will drop tonight. Really though, just wait inside, I’ll be done in a moment.”
His hands are dirty with soil, pink with the cold. There are pine needles everywhere, the smell of them mixing with the rain.
By now, Eddie likes to believe that he has come to know Steve fairly well—hell, it would be quite sad if he didn’t, considering how much time they spend in each other’s pockets.
It’s clearly important, he can see that much. It’s clearly something Steve doesn’t necessarily want to explain, although Eddie is mostly sure that he could needle an answer out of him if he tried.
He’s strangely reluctant to do so, though; the thing he doesn’t understand—about the importance of rose bushes, about Steve’s sudden brittleness, about his own hesitation—is why.
It doesn’t stop him from curling a hand around Steve’s shoulder briefly, squeezing. From saying, “Alright, I’ll warm up some food then,” and letting his hand linger for a moment, for just this little bit more warmth, before going back inside, leaving Steve to his garden.
---
Eddie grows used to Steve’s strange affinity for plants, ironically, when winter washes across the land and most of his gardening gets focused on the various indoor plants that somehow, Eddie hasn’t paid much attention to before.
It’s a thing, though, their presence and Steve’s calm care for them; his herbs on the windowsill in the kitchen, thyme and mint, rosemary and sage and basil. The orchids in the living room that seem fickle even to Eddie, and the ivy climbing up the balustrade of the stairs.
It’s a thing, even when Eddie moves from spending the nights in the guest room to spending them in Steve’s bed, legs tangled together, mouth to skin. When still, some nights, he wakes up alone, knowing he missed one of Steve’s nightmares. How he finds him tending to one plant or another, steady hands and quiet voice.
Eddie will wrap his arms around Steve’s waist, those nights, letting the warm weight of his body leaning back against Eddie’s chest calm them both; he still knows that if he asked, Steve would tell him.
These days, it is more a matter of feeling that he should get it than the charm of a riddle, but something about it remains just out of reach.
---
Spring crawls across the land slowly, spindly fingers pushing back against the seemingly ever-lasting gray. All thoughts on gardening aside, Eddie cannot wait—for longer days, for fewer clothes, for all of his, Steve’s, and Robin’s plans that wear titles like Chicago and two-bedroom apartment.
For now, though, March is still struggling to assert itself, and Eddie is picking up Max from physical therapy. She has been getting better, can walk mostly fine without a cane, and the progress of the last couple of months has made her a little lighter, too.
Still, there is some kinship between them about the months they spent listening to Mrs. Parker droning on about exercises and discipline, about the gritted teeth and pulling scar tissue, and how this godforsaken town has never learned to mind its own business.
They are driving down Maple Street, Bowie playing quietly because it’s a compromise they both can live with. It’s a detour, but it’s Wednesday, which means the market stalls downtown are open, which means they are going to get donuts from that one stall that makes them with enough sugar that they can feel their teeth rot in real time.
Eddie pulls into the parking lot and ignores Max as she climbs out of the van—their deal, after all; he doesn’t help, so she lets him pay. If it works, and all that.
It’s busy, which, of course, doesn’t stop people from staring, but they ignore it. Eddie thinks that if there is one thing he would like to leave behind once he finally gets out of this hellhole, it is for Max to let all the small-town bullshit roll right off her.
Eddie’s never mastered it as well as he would have liked, but he has high hopes for her.
They get their donuts—dark chocolate for him, glazed for her—and huddle around one of the bar tables somewhat out of the way.
It’s when he sees it, one of the stalls at the far end of the market. It’s not been around the last couple of months, ever since autumn made Steve cover his garden with branches of fir, but Eddie remembers it from last year.
He nudges Max, keeping his voice casual when he says, “Hey, mind if we stop at the plant stall for a moment?”
“Sure,” she merely says, her grin knowing, and pops the last bit of her donut into her mouth.
There is a reason she’s his favorite, really.
Truth is, Eddie has no fucking clue about plants whatsoever, and until he started being friends with Steve, he did not much care either. He can admit, though, that there is something pretty about it, and perhaps that’s the point; to make that empty house into a bit more of a home, some self-chosen colors amongst whatever nightmarish monster of decoration the elder Harringtons had let lose however long ago.
He runs his fingers over the petals of some tulips when Max says, “Don’t get cut ones.”
Eddie turns to frown at her. “What?”
“Bouquets; he doesn’t like them.”
Under different circumstances, Eddie may have at least tried to pretend that he didn’t know who she was talking about, but he has been turning over the matter of Steve and gardening for well over half a year now. Steve has never been much help, all Eddie’s assumptions that he could simply ask aside, and no matter how much he has turned it over and over, it always felt like he was missing something obvious. Something that he should get.
So, Max remarking upon Steve’s preferences for flowers, of all things, makes any urge to pretend take a backseat.
“Why not? They are less work, aren’t they? Put them in a vase, give them some water—“
“—Watch them die,” she interrupts with a shrug. She isn’t looking at him. “He likes the work, though; to keep them alive, watch them grow.”
And oh. Oh, Eddie is a goddamn idiot, isn’t he, he thinks as his heart stumbles into a violently painful rhythm.
Steve with his nail bat crusty with blood, always jumping in first; Steve, always ready to be the one to pick the fight, kill the monster, do what needs to be done. Offer up his rose-thorned heart to spare everyone else their shreds of remaining innocence.
Eddie swallows the revelation down like burning absinthe, and if Max notices his sudden unsteadiness, she is kind enough to keep it to herself. He asks the old woman inside the stall for her most long-living plant, barely pays attention to the price, and tugs the dragon tree sapling under his arm as he and Max make their way back to the van.
He has no idea yet what to do with this new piece of information, isn’t even sure Steve is aware of why he’s doing this himself. What he does know is this; if he were to love Steve Harrington for the rest of their days, it still would not be enough.
Fuck him if he isn’t going to try, though.
---
When he finds Steve in the kitchen cutting herbs, of all things, he kind of wants to cry, although it would feel rather selfish, all things considered.
So he carefully puts the sapling on the counter and offers Steve a smile when he turns, raising a brow at the plant first, at Eddie second.
Eddie crosses the distance and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist from behind; slips his hands beneath the worn sweater, traces the path of the scars. With his forehead between Steve’s shoulders, he breathes and breathes and breathes.
“Hey, you okay?” Steve asks when the silence stretches. He turns in Eddie’s arms, knife forgotten and hands heartbreakingly gentle on Eddie’s face. “You’re starting to freak me out a bit here, sweetheart.”
Eddie laughs and it comes out wet, but god. God.
“Difficult to explain,” he says, because damn it, this shouldn’t be about him, this shouldn’t be—
“Try me, then,” Steve counters, mouth quirking.
Eddie loves him so much, it would be enough to grow a garden of its own.
“That’s why you do it, isn’t it?” he says, not making any sense. “The plants, the gardening, taking care of them—something to keep alive, to take care of? To… I don’t know, something good.”
Steve’s brows furrow, his eyes skittering away, through the kitchen, back to Eddie. The afternoon light is soaking tentatively inside, and it has been a long time since Eddie has felt this untethered; he’s not sure why this feels so monumental, only that it does. That he shouldn’t have missed this.
“I’m not sure…” Steve starts, shaking his head, shoulders tensing. “It’s not that deep, honestly, just—“
“Steve.” Eddie’s voice doesn’t break, but it’s a close thing.
Steve sighs. “It’s… Nice. To make something grow for once, you know, instead of…”
“Yeah,” Eddie whispers, his voice rough. He leans his forehead against Steve’s, breathes him in. “Yeah, I think I get it.”
Because he does, is the thing, the same way he has been pouring himself into their relationship, into his friendships with the kids, with Nancy and Robin and Jonathan. The same way he is tired, so tired of destruction and decay; he has no idea how much more true this must ring for Steve.
He still thinks that he should have gotten this sooner, that it should have been obvious, but he doesn’t apologize. Perhaps, in the end, it doesn’t matter, isn’t really about him or them. Either way, Steve seems content enough where he is, breathing slow and even in the dim kitchen, the smell of thyme and sage still lingering.
“So,” Eddie finally says, pulling back just far enough to grin at Steve. “Update for the flat search then, huh? A garden, or at least a balcony; can’t risk having you take up knitting next, my tattered reputation would not survive self-knitted scarves.”
Steve’s laughter is unexpected and bright, his head falling back so that Eddie can trace the familiar spattering of moles. He nuzzles his nose against it, the crook of Steve’s neck his favorite place in the world.
“Christ, but I love you,” Steve murmurs, his voice turning quiet once more.
It isn’t the first time either of them has said it, but Eddie’s heart still jumps and trips all over itself. He takes Steve’s face between his hands, makes sure to hold his gaze. Says, “For what it’s worth, I think we are growing this, too, just fine.”
He kisses Steve before he can answer, but he doesn’t miss when the dragon tree ends up on the windowsill of their bedroom that same night, re-potted and watered with care.
He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s fingers clench into his skin, trembling and desperate, when Eddie whispers, “Good, you are so good, Steve,” a vow pressed into his skin.
Eddie makes a second one—hours later when Steve is long since asleep—that he won’t stop saying it until Steve believes him, too.
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anyways before i forget.
coward!MC lesson 16 reactions,,, bro the angst potential there is so real idk even where to start.
i legit imagine,,, you're in such a state of abject terror and shock, like, you literally died, not a game, no joking, it HAPPENED, and no one saved you, belphie didn't stop, there was absolutely nothing you could do
first lucifer rejecting you, and then this. it'd be a massive setback to any kind of bravery you'd been able to muster because seriously, post lesson 16, literally fuck that. you could DIE, this is REAL, and you were stupid for ever forgetting that.
hhh just. satan, lucifer, mammon,, whichever other boys (i love me some dia so maybe him and barb, who probably deserves to feel at least a little responsible), knowing how much you suffer. trying to help.
HNNNNNG YOU WROTE MC'S TERROR SO FUCKING GOOD AND NOW THE ANGST POWER LIVES IN MY BRAIIIIN
strongly worded and more detailed letters to follow, love, elsey,
Coward! MC here
Hellfire tea sits cold in your lap.
The flames in the fireplace burn with vigour, bright and burning as expected of something like Hell. Mammon once threw a broken chair in there, to hide it from the eldest, and it reduced to ashes in front of your eyes within seconds.
The fire devour anything it gets.
Like that black tapir roasted to perfection by Satan. Babylon curry stirred by Asmodeus, with two pink hairclips that he put in place before beginning with the cooking and as he chirped "so that my hair won't be affected by the heat !," and the cheerful chatter in the air. Plans made and some promptly turned away (exploring all Devildom restaurants in a day might just lead to bankruptcy) and smiles which were not seen before.
And Quetzalcoatl brain soup stirred by a tall demon.
For his twin, of course.
Bony fingers that gripped the ladle and lips curling into a smile at the taste. Those same fingers around your throat. Tightening, not letting you breathe even when you begged. Black spots in your vision and a throbbing pain in your chest after having been thrown down the stairs. You must have broken a bone or two in there, but you're not sure.
You're not even sure why you are alive.
Belphegor laughs, and you freeze in your seat, fork with spaghetti twisted around it falling on the table with a plop!
You blame it on clumsy hands. And yet, your heartbeat can be heard by inhumane ears.
You stare at it with detachment, perhaps wondering if the piece of food will jump to life.
"Here," Belphegor says, passing you a plate of sushi. "I thought you would like it, since its from the human world."
You stare but smile, and when his fingers brush against yours you tremble.
"I missed out on a lot, didn't I?" He mentions with gaze half-lidded. "I want to catch up on everything."
You chew on rice and fish but the taste doesn't matter at the moment. The room is gigantic and you already dwarf in comparison. Eyes gaze at you in concern, but you pay no heed.
Did your death even get a mourning?
When Belphegor says your name, you nod and say yes.
Even when you beg yourself to say no and get out, out of the room where he is sitting and eating and you're dining with him and his brothers and you're dining with rejection and death in front of you and oh god you can't say no—
Your fingers dig into your thigh.
"MC, are you alright?" Asmodeus whispers, unable to avoid the way in which your hands tremble when Belphegor is near. You don't hear him, continuing to stare at the half-eaten sushi on your plate. Your heart pounds in your chest, the familiar tendrils of fear clinging to you as the seventhborn draws nearer.
"MC—"
He is barely able to place a hand on your shoulder before you jolt, throwing away your cutlery with a clang. The chair makes a noise that makes everyone else wince, following which you're gone and out of the dining room.
You're gone in a flash, footsteps fading with the door of your room slamming shut.
This is your chance.
Go back in time. Find out what helped Belphegor escape. Come back.
Sounds like a pretty neat plan.
"Thank you, MC." When Lucifer expresses his gratitude for your help, you smile in understanding.
Even after what has happened, you will show everyone that you can be better. That you're not the coward you used to be. After having faced rejection and cried outside the firstborn's door, writing on paper that tore due to how much you erased your work and after Lucifer's demon form towering over you. Teeth bared in a display of aggression, and the sickening thud that was made when Beel collided with the furniture.
And after all that has happened, things are finally looking up for you. You've fallen down many times, but you're learning to brush yourself and get up, persevere, and not shrink when faced with the slightest threat.
This is your chance, you affirm, clenching your fist. You can finally prove that you're worthy of respect, a value that you want to be admired for.
"Remember, you must not tell anyone that you are from the future, as well as me. That might end up warping history. Return after finding out the reason for Belphegor's escape."
The butler instructs, finger under his chin. You nod, flashing the demon a smile to let him know that you are prepared. Barbatos's warning echoes clear in your head as you approach the door, and open it, revealing a purple mist.
When you look back at the demon, his expression reveals nothing. Bidding him bye, you step forward.
You can't wait to return.
As soon as the haze clears, you find yourself in the hallway of the House of Lamentation. You pace around, trying to ascertain as to during which event you are here.
The sound of bickering catches your ears, and you step forward into Mammon's room.
"When you're silencing yourself, ensure to quieten that stomach too!"
"Hey! Don't ask me to do the impossible!"
"Lucifer and MC should have opened up to each other by now."
Your breath hitches in your throat as you take in Asmo's words. So the whole game with the firstborn was planned...
A smile forms on your face at the realisation, but it drops as soon as you remember that they don't know what will happen. Screaming and shouting. Bristled wings and snarls. Threats on your life. Careful to not make noise, you step forward to listen better.
And the sound of the empty can crushing beneath your feet is enough to attract attention.
Mammon's head whips around. "I didn't know you were in here the whole time!" He says in disbelief, and the others look on. You gulp, having the urge to get out of the room without explaining yourself, but you stop.
"Yeah, I followed Satan around.." You mutter, embarrassed, and the fourthborn frowns.
"See! I told you to be careful" Asmo complains, pointing a finger accusingly at his brother. "Now look what you've done."
The idea to make Lucifer and you talk again has not worked out, and the demon pouts.
Levi furrows his brows."You should see him." He says, and you nod, glad to get out and solve the mission. Back in the hallway, you hear faint voices, and on inspecting closely you discover that they're coming from the top of the stairs.
Where Belphegor is held prisoner.
"The old Lucifer wasn't like this! The old Lucifer didn't care what others thought of him!"
You don't hear a retort.
Perhaps this was one of the many reasons why you fell in love with Lucifer. Brave and confident of himself, willing to sacrifice himself for those who loves.
Something you wouldn't have been able to muster the courage for.
But you're growing. You're making progress, as small that might be. You no longer tolerate lower-level demons stepping up and stealing your lunch or bothering you in class. Grades are improving, and so are your relations in the house.
You don't want it all to shatter.
You don't want to pick yourself up again like that night.
Descending footsteps alert you, and so you hide.
And Belphegor's pleading voice for help is something you are unable to resist.
And so you step forward and open the door.
And so Belphegor embraces you.
And then he transforms.
"What—What the hell are you doing?!" You stammer, fear creeping in your veins at the sudden reveal of his demon form. "Belphegor, what exactly are you planning?"
When his hand curl around your neck, you scream.
He pushes you against the wall of the attic, your head colliding with the stone, further adding to your agony. The demon laughs, and you wonder if this is his genuine smile, finally revealed in a moment of cruelty.
"Don't blame me for tricking you, blame yourself for falling for it," He snarls, teeth too sharp and eyes too bright in the dim light. You struggle to breathe, your clawing and kicking of no use.
"Please," You beg, barely able to rasp out words when he squeezes your neck so tightly you fear he might just wrung it and kill you. "I don't want to—I—please d-don't—"
His smile is cruel.
"It's rather unpleasant, in't it? Being choked like this." Belphegor laughs, the sound throaty and cruel, and you feel your heart breaking further at the betrayal. You thought you were friends. You trusted him. You freed him.
All that courage you had gathered, all gone to waste. Your mission—failed. What you feared during your time in the Devildom is happening, and you can't even do anything to stop it.
You are about to die.
Your vision blurs with tears, and you struggle to breathe in his grasp.
Not this time. Not this. Anything but this. Please don't kill me.
His laugh still rings in your ears as your eyes close.
"Not my breakfast!"
Leviathan protests, unable to do anything but watch as Beel downs the rest of his food, miffed at his ignorance. He slams his hand on the table, and Lucifer frowns.
"Beel and Levi—"
The delicate normalcy in the room has been broken, and now it lies shattered like a thousand glass pieces that will be hard to pick up and will pierce skin.
If not of demons, than of a human.
The demon straightens his posture, realising that his presence has stopped the chatter that he had anticipated. Belphegor gazes around the room, and when he turns to look his brothers in the eye they don't meet his gaze.
"Come on," He drawls, pulling back the chair to sit down, the sound making everyone wince. "Continue."
He grabs his portion of bread and soup, but no one resumes their actions.
Indifferent, the demon takes a bite of the bread.
"So...are you going along with Belphie to school?" Asmo questions, hand resting under his chin.
Besides him, Leviathan announces that he will grab something to eat at the cafeteria, and the fading footsteps create a sound no one wants to hear.
Belphegor takes a sip of the soup. "MC doesn't have to go along if they don't want to." His expression reveals nothing; and your shoulders sag with relief.
You don't go with Belphegor to school that day.
But that doesn't spare you from his presence next to yours in the class.
Neither does the fact that you're sitting next to the demon that killed you once.
Has he brushed aside what happened so easily? And have the others done the same? You ask yourself as the professor demonstrates how to manifest magic circles. And rejection still sits bitter within you.
After that class is over, you have to go shopping for Diavolo's birthday. You're not sure if you'll be able to do that with Belphegor around.
Every step you take will have to be done with caution. Because you, foolish human, had forgotten that you were defenseless, with or without the pacts.
They knew what would happen when you would step into the portal.
Neither did you find someone who loved you.
Neither was your love returned.
The pain of rejection dulls in comparison to death, and even then you find yourself in shambles.
You were, after all, sent to your demise instead. You laugh at the fact, a low chuckle that breaks off into a crack at the end, and it doesn't help that Mammon winces noticing your expression of happiness is a bitter one. Nor is it true.
After running into the residents of Purgatory hall, you find that nothing escapes Simeon's gaze.
When he advices you to serve as a bridge for the brothers, you are tempted to cackle.
The angel quietens when he sees the dark circles under your eyes, and the way your eyes dart around the stairs, waiting for someone to strike. Instead Simeon breathes out, murmuring that you are welcome to come to Purgatory Hall whenever you wish. The angel doesn't know what took place, but he knows you're in turmoil.
"If you want someone to talk to, I'm right here." He departs with those words.
He leads Luke back home.
He doesn't know what to say.
And your vision blurs as they walk away.
Nothing can be said of this moment, nothing is left to say. Its silence silences.
Game night is not a peace-building activity.
Rather, it leads to chaos.
"Wrong decision Mammon! You could have had Ruri work as an idol and instead you've sent her to the casino!"
"She'll make more money and then you'll get more! Stop shoutin at me!"
"This was my videogame—"
The door slams open.
And then it begins.
"So you're telling me that Beel is feelin guilty because he didn't know you were being held..prisoner?"
"What else," Belphegor rolls his eyes, and when his gaze meets yours his expression is unreadable. He settles away from you, swiping a pillow from Levi's lap who gazes around the room, and placing it on his own. Although he's not touching you, his presence is enough to inspire fear. Your nerves stay on edge, body stiffening as you attempt to stay still and not shrivel besides him.
You want to go back to your room.
"Should we go and see Beel?" Mammon mutters in your ear, not wanting to let Belphie hear, but the action has you nearly jolting in your place.
Your eyes are downcast. "S-Sure," You whisper, voice low. "We should see him." You play with your thumb, refusing to meet either brother's gaze. The audio from the game stops playing, and the silence that follows starts to envelope the room in a heavy blanket.
The secondborn frowns.
"Ya alright?" He questions, eyes travelling over your form, inspecting for any injuries you might have been trying to hide or any signs of illness, but when he sees the way your hands tremble and breath runs ragged Mammon bends down.
"Let's go to your room MC, how about that?"
You nod, and let him lead the way.
When the door closes again, it is Levi's turn to gape at Belphegor.
"They're scared of you," He blurts out, unable to bear the silence. "MC doesn't want to be near you."
Belphegor stares at the tank in resignation.
Back in your room, Mammon dims the lights with a simple incantation that he heard Lucifer recite countless times. "Thanks," You say, voice muffled under the blanket. The demon smiles, his eyes looking unusually bright in the dark, but you brush it aside as a demon quirk.
"Anything for ya."
He turns to leave, ready to walk out the door and close it, then walk straight towards the end of the hallway where—
"Mammon?"
His name comes out in a whisper, and he stills.
"Could you stay?"
A smile. "Of course."
"Are you alright?"
Lucifer questions, and you tremble.
"I'm fine," You mumble, unable to meet his gaze. You don't have the courage to even look the demon in the eye, and so you stare at your notebook. "Just doing some assignments," You blurt, picking up a pencil in hopes of making yourself look busy. "We've got a test tomorrow in Hexes and Curses."
The demon eyes you, lips turned downwards and brows furrowed.
The man can see you trembling. The way your eyes flicker nervously over lines of text, or the way you keep fidgeting with the pencil.
You're scared.
And who's fault is it?
Who is responsible for your death?
Who is responsible for locking Belphegor?
Who is responsible for the fall from the Celestial Realm?
Who is responsible for destroying any courage you had gathered?
All these questions are screamed at him, and the war comes to mind. When others had believed in him, and he failed them.
He failed you.
Lucifer knows that it is him, and no other being. All that had happened to you are the consequences of his own actions. That after having finally gathered yourself from the pain of rejection, the pain of dying had finally torn down any remnants of your happiness and peace here.
And...would you even trust him?
The firstborn asks himself this question as he ogles your form; desperately trying to find a way for you or him to leave. Because he can't be trusted, not anymore.
And he can't even believe you when you say that you're fine.
"You should rest," He says, voice raspy. "The past few days have been....."
The demon winces, stopping himself before he goes and says something that will tear the manufactured normalcy you've been desperately trying to present.
You nod in return, muttering out a 'good night,' before gathering your notebook and scurrying out from the room. You can feel eyes burning holes in the back of your head; you can feel Lucifer staring at you, but you don't want to look back.
And as your footsteps retreat, Lucifer replaces the vacant spot you had left, on the chair.
He inspects the wood, eyes gazing over the material before he rests his head on it—too exhausted to do anything else. Too tired to try right now.
He's worsened your agony.
Gloves fingers pick up the pencil lying abandoned, and the firstborn stares at it. Your departure sets something in his chest throbbing with pain, and he knows it is love that he cannot speak about.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
He loves you. But it is an affection he does not have the courage to speak about, for his actions say something else.
Does he even deserve you?
Lucifer's throat tightens, and he refuses to acknowledge it.
His mind drifts back to the time when his brothers were creating a fuss about that Devilgram photo with you and Satan. How you both looked so happy and it was someone else who'd made you smile. How hard you had cried that night when he had rejected you and how scared you were after. How you avoided him after and how you must have cried and how scared you must have been when Belphegor killed you—
A garbled cry spills from his throat.
The sound Lucifer makes is something he's mortified to hear from himself. The man's vision blurs and all he can feel is the agony in his chest. His face is wet. And upon realising that the library isn't soundproof he casts an enchantment, through a tone that cracks in the end.
No one will be able to hear his cries now.
Your spirits have been crushed, and the MC he once knew is gone, replaced by one that had their spirits defeated.
Lucifer is witness to that. From watching you run away, leaving behind Beel and Luke in the underground tomb to standing in front of Diavolo, going back in time....and being rejected and yet bouncing back...there's no greater testimony than it.
He calls you to his room the night before you're supposed to leave for the human world.
You walk into the room to see Lucifer by the fireplace. The flames frame his features in a way which takes away your breath. It is in this moment that you're reminded that you are in a room with the Avatar of Pride and fallen angel, Lucifer himself.
You suppose there's no better time to be wary than now.
In hindsight, you should have never trusted them from the start. For who knew smiles and laughter would get you killed? So when the demon asks for you, it takes fifteen minutes itself to muster up courage to move.
And even more to stand in front of him.
"Come, sit down," He murmurs, gesturing to an empty couch across him. "Please make yourself comfortable."
The man attempts to make yourself feel relaxed in his presence, but you can't help the racing of your heart when you sit down on the plush couch, darting your gaze around the room, looking everywhere but in his eyes. When you finally do, look in his direction, you find that Lucifer is not scrutinizing you.
Rather, he's focused on the fire.
"I chose you as the exchange student for this programe." Lucifer declares, voice somber.
You fidget in your seat, not knowing what to make of his words. When he looks at you, your guts tell you to flee, yet you remain like a deer frozen in headlights.
"There were times when I regretted my choice."
Your heart sinks. You know Lucifer doesn't have the best opinion of you, you are pretty sure you are nothing more than a coward in his eyes, just a human to take care of for a year. A responsibility.
"But I made the right choice in choosing you." Lucifer smiles, and it is an expression full of warmth, unlike anything you've seen before.
"H-How?" You question, utterly bewildered and confused. "I thought you—that you—"
"That you had no value in my eyes." The man cuts you off, and you flinch. "That I had no respect for you." Your hands tremble, not knowing where this conversation is leading to. The door is right in front of you, maybe if you just excused yourself—
Yet another part wants to stay. Remain and listen to the demon. Lucifer's voice is soft. "I was wrong about you," He admits, smiling softly. "For you are someone to be respected."
?!
"Ever since the day I saw you in the Devildom, I assumed that you would be another hassle, another responsibility to take care of. And observing you during your first week here, didn't exactly put a decent impression of you in my mind."
You gape at the man, waiting for him to continue.
"You ran away from me in the underground tomb, and yet you went up the stairs that I stated were forbidden. I have seen you struggling with coursework, thrust into a new environment which you did not consent to have been put into..." He places a hand under his chin. "In hindsight, I should have been more understanding of your situation. I was the one to bring you here and you even got killed because of my mistake.."
"Don't say that."
He sighs, his shoulders sagging, and you've never seen Lucifer look more defeated.
"I have seen you grow. I assumed you were weak, a coward, and yet you grew and overcame your fears. You have helped me and my family immensely, and all I did was get in your way." He says, and your heart aches. "I've been cruel."
A sob chokes your throat.
"I am proud of you for what you have done and achieved, and I can never make enough reparations for what you had to suffer. But I swear I will prevent anything like this from occurring again." He gets up, suddenly, startling you. "And I offer you my pact as promise and as gratitude."
And as you watch, the Morningstar gets on his knees in front of you.
"Control over me as your demon, and you my Master," He mumbles. "Will you allow me the honour of making a pact with you?"
When Lucifer gazes at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes, you have to blink back tears.
"Y-Yes."
The firstborn bows his head. "You will never have to fear me again." He swears. "And I will give you a reason to believe." And with that, you feel infernal magic flowing through your veins. A burst of energy so intense that it raises your heartbeat and makes you close your eyes momentarily.
When you open them again, you feel powerful.
For you have command over the Morningstar himself.
"Thank you," You whisper, placing your hand atop his own.
Satan has seen the way you carry yourselves now at RAD, an invisible presence amongst the crowd of chattering demons. Withdrawn and downcast. Despite the pacts, you were murdered.
He's seen you fall and rise, unwavering determination as you gathered courage and spoke up for yourself. Improved yourself and went against Diavolo, the literal Prince who few dared to oppose. You went back in time for all of them, and what did that get you?
Death.
But now you can barely muster any courage to even look him in the eye. Lucifer and Belphegor have made their pacts with you too in penance and forgiveness, but that is not enough to help the trauma inflicted upon you.
Satan doesn't know what to say now, seeing your downcast gaze and the way you tremble when Belphegor is near. He's seen you rise and fall, and seeing you destroyed makes Satan realise that he and his brother are all responsible for what happened to you. He loves you too; for seeing you strive to improve and overcome the fear that is justifiably humane, and observing you grow reminds Satan of himself.
But you've fallen down and been killed.
Therapy, he concludes one week before you're supposed to leave. It is perhaps the best option for you.
And all that on Diavolo's dime.
Lucifer and Satan had worked it out all together, and the Prince had readily agreed. He knew what would happen, and yet he allowed it.
One life in exchange for peace and order.
It sounds simple, but when you realise the weight it carries you can't bring yourself to do it. The man is a Prince, and with that title comes responsibilities and power more than anyone could fathom.
But did it give him the right to put you in a completely different realm and place an unwanted burden on your shoulders?
He muses, late at night when the moon is at its brightest. When he can't sleep, and the dark circles in the morning will surely concern Barbatos who won't hold back on a lecture.
But some questions won't stop bothering him.
Do you hate him?
Would you have hated him?
For what he's done to you?
Was he making the right choices?
Was he trying enough?
But he's still learning, still observing, still growing. He never lies.
And Diavolo doesn't ever want such a circumstance to occur. When he felt infernal magic radiating from you, so intense and of a magnitude that only the firstborn could muster, the Prince knew what had happened.
Pacts with the seven avatars.
Command over them.
Could....would you have forged one with him, if possible? Would you want to? He wants to ask, and yet Diavolo knows he can't make one even if you were willing.
Not yet.
But he'll work towards ensuring a world where he can.
#whats up im back#long break eh#obey me#shall we date obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me angst#obey me fluff#conflict#obey me lucifer#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me leviathan#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon
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