#bully romance

[maelialuv]

Call It What You Want, Steve Harrington

Summary: Going to a party at your bully's house had to be your worst nightmare come true. But you know what they say; don't get over someone, get under them.

Warnings: SMUT! slow burn filth. I need a hot shower level. breeding kink if you squint. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) fem!reader :)

NOTE: some characters have been aged up, like chrissy, so that everyone is in senior year at the same time :)

Word Count: 5.9K

You loved a party. Couldn't get enough of the heat of a group of people, the roar of laughter overlapping with the excited chatter of friends reuniting. The inevitable crash of dropped glass making the whole crowd hush before resuming their nestled talk. You were, in every sense of the word, a party girl. But that wasn't always the case.

Before this year - your senior year at Hawkins High- you'd been riding the coat tails of your childhood best friend, Nancy Wheeler, all throughout your school life. You were the sad little puppy that followed her around, but Nance never minded. She was always happy to have you by her side, or just behind her. Everywhere she went, you were there a few seconds later. That was until she started hanging out with, and later dating your sworn enemy.

Steve Harrington.

The guy had tormented you since middle school, along with his minions Tommy and Carol. The two of you used to make fun of people like them, stuck up and out of touch, and then she became one of them. Just like that. You could tell she felt guilty, by the way she would send you a furrowed glance at lunch as if to say 'I'm sorry, I have to!', like she had no control over who she surrounded herself with. As if she had no choice but to curl up beside the guy that broke your elbow in seventh grade.

Like she couldn't help but fall into the arms of the guy that had made your life a living hell for more than six years.

You still occasionally spoke to Nancy. After all, you lived across from one another, and thus had to see each other at some points. She would sometimes invite you to study, but you had started to make excuses after you had seen Harrington climb the garage roof and into her window, not liking the thought of his impulsive tendency for a romantic rendezvous interrupting a study session whilst you were there. You didn't want to put Nacy through the grief.

Your 'Lost Lamb' persona left you the moment you started hanging out with someone you never thought you'd consider a friend in your wildest dreams, or nightmares, Chrissy Cunningham. Expecting her to be a total Queen Bee, she was nothing of the sort. She was warm and kind and sisterly, all the things you missed from your friendship with Nancy. She sat with you at lunch, went to the movies with you, and eventually secured you a seat at the table with the rest of the cheerleaders, their boyfriends and the rest of their gang. They welcomed you with unexpected sincerity, and that was that.

You started going to house parties on Saturdays, diners on Wednesday nights with the girls, study sessions with some of the basketball team that couldn't quite pass a class or two. People waved at you in the halls, remembering your name for once. You and Chrissy would have sleep overs, and you felt the hole in your heart that Nancy left slowly start to heal. More or less.

But then you got that stupid invite.

"Gotcha!" Chrissy closed your locker door, scaring you senseless.

"Jesus, Chris!" you stacked your books in your arms. She was smiling wide, as always, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What?" you said, a raised brow and half a smirk making its way across your lips.

"Before you say anything, just let me talk," she made tiny praying hands to her chest, puppy dog eyes gleaming. "Promise?"

"Okay," you sighed.

"There's a party this weekend, and we're all going, and we all really want you to come." You looked at her with raised brows, as if to say 'go on?'. "It's Steve Harrington's party."

You'd managed to avoid almost every one of Harrington's parties with some believable, and some not so believable, excuses in the past year since your surge in popularity. "I don't know, Chris, I'm so busy with college applications this weekend-"

"Who needs them!" she cried, "We all know you're gonna get into Yale or Hardvard or Brown or whichever super crazy smart college you want to go to." She grabbed your hand, swaying it back and forth, like a child begging their mother for a candy bar at the grocery store. "Pretty please?" she did the puppy eyes again, knowing it would sway you to agree.

"Fine."

"Yay! I'll come to your house at nine tomorrow to get you!"

And that's how you found yourself in your old bullies house, red solo cup in hand, full of whatever lethal punch one of the football players had concocted. Already tipsy, lingering by the kitchen so that the constant stream of drinks wouldn't slow. Bodies moved ungracefully around you, shimmying and shoving through to the living room or to the ruckus of the back yard where people were throwing each other into Steve Harrington's large pool. You sipped on your drink thoughtfully, feeling the confidence built over the last year slip away from you as you returned to your old wallflower state.

"Why are you hiding in here, silly?" Chrissy came to your side, the shimmery pink eyeshadow on her lids making her green eyes luminous in the low light of the kitchen. "The gang's all next door, come on!" She grabbed your hand with surprising strength, dragging you into the large living room. Deep sofas lined the walls, each with a basketball player and their girlfriends curled up on one. On the one furthest from you, was Nancy and Steve. Next to them, Tommy and Carol. It made your stomach turn to see her with him. You avoided her persistent gaze. But Harrington's gaze, raking you in and eyes darting up and down, was harder to lose. He stared at you adamantly.

When the buzz of chatter died down, a few of the basketball players and their girlfriends left to find more entertaining activities, it was just a handful of people left in the living room. Including you, Nance and Steve. Tommy had the glint of wicked amusement in his eyes, and it made you uncomfortable. "I know what we should do," he said, eyes falling to you. "Let's play a little game." Carol perked up beside him, as if their minds were connected in some twisted way. "Yeah, let's do something fun."

"Games, come on guys," Jason, Chrissy's boyfriend, spoke up. "We're not in middle school anymore." Carol got her own wicked smile.

"Oh, certainly not." her eyes fell on you , analysing how your style had changed. You were wearing dark make up, smoking out your eyes and giving them an alluring pull. You showed off skin, knew how to present yourself. Her eyes narrowed, her smile a venomous sneer. "No, if this were middle school, I wouldn't be caught dead at a party with her."

You simply cocked your head to the side, giving carol a tight lipped sarcastic smile. Inside, you felt thirteen again. Instinctively, you grabbed your elbow, as if you could feel the pain of the break there now. Tommy barked out a laugh at Carol's comment. "Yeah, who knew the black sheep would turn into a black swan, huh?"

You felt gross as he raked his eyes over you, unashamed as he stared at the place where the hem of your dress ended.

"Fuck off, Tommy." you retorted, voice calm but heart racing a million miles a minute behind your ribcage. You felt like you were a lamb on a platter for the lions, ready for the slaughter.

"She speaks!" Carol squawked. Next to them on the couch, Nancy squirmed. Never one for confrontation, she excused herself to grab a drink. You caught her eye as she left. She looked guilty. You wanted to follow her, grab her by the shoulders and tell her to wake up. Tell her that her friends, and her boyfriend, were assholes. But she never listened before. She just couldn't admit it to herself.

"Been a while since we've seen you, babe. Where've you been hiding those legs, huh?" Carol smacked her gum as she spoke, obnoxious and loud.

"I found some better people to hang out with." Beside you, Chrissy stuck her arm over your shoulder. Her face was hard. It made her look older, the serious glare that she was sending Carol. Carol sneered at her, and the expression aged her terribly.

Steve caught your eye, shifted hard away from Tommy. He was gripping his beer with a tight knuckled grip. His eyes slithered down your neck, over your chest, and landed similarly to Tommy's. You grabbed the hem of your dress and yanked downward.

"One of the cool kids now, are you? Not following Wheeler around like a dog anymore?" Tommy took a long sip of his beer.

"We drifted apart." you said simply.

"Oh yeah? Since when?" Carol chimed in again and you felt your blood boil beneath your skin. Steve continued his obvious oggling.

"Since she traded her spine for a shiny new basketball player"

Nancy stood by the door, drink in hand. Her eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. The whole group erupted into astonished laughter, Chrissy struggling to hold back as she clutched her stomach. Steve glared at the floor, as if willing it to say a comeback that would sting you back. Nancy sat down beside him, silent.

"Woah, you gonna take that Wheeler?" Carol guffawed.

She remained silent as a mouse at Steve's side.

"Nance was never one for speaking up anyway. "

You grabbed your cup and flittered out of the living room, the atmosphere suffocating you. You needed another drink, a cigarette, and some alone time. Drink secured, and obscenely strong, you crept up the stairs to the second floor. Once you found a room that didn't stink of puke or had two people sucking face in, an ensuite bathroom, you locked the door and sat in the tub.

Shutting the shower curtain, doc martens resting on the taps, you lit your cigarette. You still couldn't believe you were in Steve Harrington's house - let alone one of his bathtubs - after everything that went down all those years. Yet there you were. Nancy lost to the dark side, you in with the cool kids. Your middle school self wouldn't believe it. You rested your eyes for a moment, breathing in the smoke and taking gentle sips of your drink.

Your thoughts were interrupted by muffled yelling in the next room. You stubbed out your cigarette, trying to get out of the tub as quietly as possible, when you heard your name. It was Steve and Nancy, and they were fighting. About you.

"Why are you bringing this up now?" Steve said, exasperated.

"You guys were awful to her, Steve!"

"Yeah, like you did anything about it, huh Nance?"

You recoiled back into the tub, feeling invasive but caring more about what Nancy had to say for herself than your moral compass. It was a years' worth of pain cementing your form in the tub, ear preened toward the doorway.

"You tormented her!"

"And you watched! If anything, that's worse!"

"How is that worse than what you, YOU, did to her Steve?!

There was a pause. You could imagine Nancy's face; pouted lips, furrowed brow, cheeks blotchy from an ill-fated attempt to hold back her angry tears. Steve laughed humourlessly. It was a cutting sound, and you could hear Nancy take deep breaths.

"What we did, sure, it was stupid. Do I regret it? Of course, we never meant to get her hurt back then."

"You're still awful to her!"

"And there's the kicker," Steve chuckled darkly. "She always stuck up for herself. That's why we did it, we knew she'd give us some fun." There was a long moment where no one spoke. "You never stood up for her once, Nancy."

His words hung in the air like smoke, seeping into your clothes and clogging your throat.

"You never defended her, then or now."

Nancy was flustered, stuttering over her words.

"You never stood up for your best friend? Thats...awful, Nance."

You could hear as Nancy struggled to find a defence, as she used to with you. She would blubber to you, relaying how guilty she felt with enough tears that you eventually ended up comforting her, forgetting that you'd even come to her for help.

"Fuck you, Steve." You could hear as she grabbed her things, storming out of the room with vibrant language. The loud declaration that "it was fucking over" made a laugh - vindictive and partly delighted - rise in your chest.

You smacked a hand over your mouth in realisation. Your movements froze, fear jolting through your bones as you heard Steve pattering about the next room. His movements stopped abruptly as your foot knocked a bottle of shampoo off the edge of the tub.

In a split second - idiotic- decision, you decide to make a run for it. You rip back the curtain, jumping to the floor and striding for the door, the door you had so stupidly locked. A warm hand grabbed your wrist in a vice like grip.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

His voice was low, deep. It echoed in your chest. It made your heart thump. It made your blood boil.

"Get your hand off me." you seethed. His grip remained, making the skin of your wrist tingle. His touch was firm yet feather light. Unwilling to let you go, but not trying to hurt you. When his hand remained unmoving, you struggled against his grasp. "Get off, Steve."

He was leaning over you, shoulder blocking the door. He hovered above you, taunting, as he looked you over again. His gaze was relentless, inescapable. Confusing.

"Let go, Steve." You sighed out, defeated and embarrassed as he held you in place. You felt unnervingly calm. Strangely glued to the floor under his honey brown eyes as they bored into your own. You wanted nothing more than to move your feet - maybe stomp on his own so he would release the grip on your hand- and get out of the claustrophobic bathroom. You risked a glance up at the boy.

Christ.

Steve was never unattractive. Never had an awkward phase. He was always tall, athletic and tanned. Your hatred for the boy hadn't blinded you to the painfully obvious. But in the dim green light of the bathroom, shadows accentuating sharp cheekbones and jawline, you saw it. Saw it as the other girls did. Steve Harrington was gorgeous. He was painfully attractive, in every sense of the word. From the symmetrical lines of his cupids bow to the dark lashes framing honey eyes, he was hypnotic. And he had you completely under his spell.

"How much of that did you hear?"

His voice was aggravatingly quiet, gentle. Intoxicating. There was a gap between the two of you, small enough that you could feel the warmth of Steve's breath on your cheek as he spoke. You felt like a child being scolded by a parent, guilt driving you to complete honesty. It was the same tone that would make you confess to a teacher, had the same soft lilt.

"Enough." You replied, and your voice was hoarse. Rough, like you needed water desperately. You did, you felt as though your throat was bone dry. "Enough to hear you chew out Nancy."

Steve's eyes were inexplicably soft as he looked at you, and at the mention of Nancy they hardened almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, well," he sighed, languid and frustrated, "that was gonna happen, no matter if it was about you or not." When you raised as brow - both in shock at his willingness to detail the state of his relationship, and as a sign to continue- he went on. "All we do is fight."

"Hmm."

""What?"

"Karma came and bit you both in the ass."

The look Steve gave you made you feel bad for saying it, but it was overruled by the vindictive joy you felt at hurting his feelings. The way he backed up slightly, as if he'd not expected you to say something, made your heart jolt a bit. He'd been so awful to you for so long that the knowledge of his relationship being far from perfect made a smile creep its way across your lips.

Steve huffed, frustrated again.

"You are incredibly hard to understand." He said, the same sickeningly sweet voice at play. "You're very different...to how you used to be."

"You mean I'm not a loser anymore?" You quirked a brow.

"You were never a loser," he stepped closer to you, hand still on yours. "You were just...," he trailed off. His gaze was unashamed, staring straight down at your lips as he spoke. "Different."

'What a crock of shit,' you thought. This coming from the guy that bullied you all throughout middle school, even through high school. it was the biggest load of bullshit you'd ever heard. But your ears rang with the rush of blood behind your ears as your heart hammered inside your chest. Steve Harrington was a flirt, and a good one. You were experiencing his best lines. And they were working.

"Different?" there was hardly any space between the two of you now, Steve's lips brushing over yours as he shifted. You didn't stop him when his hand brushed your sides.

"Yeah," the hand that had been holding your wrist against the doorknob came up to cup your cheek. Steve's top lip was on yours as he spoke, "different."

The two of you crashed together with teeth and lips, a brawl of desperate hands and angry grudges. Fingers tangled in hair immediately, tugging and scratching. Steve tasted of smoke, beer and something innately Boyish. His hands settled at your waist, grasping the fabric of your dress there. His lips were pillowy and soft, addictive. You suddenly understood why Nancy put up with it; kissing Steve Harrington was like having your own personal drug. The kiss deepened as you shifted heads, turning for better angles and access.

Steve groaned as his tongue slid across yours, and the way he so clearly enjoyed the kiss made you feel powerful. He backed you up against the bathroom counter. "Jump," he whispered, your bottom lip between his teeth as he nipped the skin there. You did as he said, his voice husky and hypnotic, and he lifted you to rest on the sink. Legs parted, Steve rested between your open knees. One hand resting there, one working on shrugging you out of the jacket that clung to your shoulders. He pulled away from you, an amused smirk on his face as you whined, to rip the jacket away. Shoulders and neck exposed, Steve got to work on the skin there.

You were suddenly way more aware of what you were doing.

"You better not leave a mark, Harrington." you panted out, as Steve nipped a particularly sweet spot just below your ear. He chuckled, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

"Why?" he asked, smug lilt to his words. "Afraid of people knowing?"

"More ashamed than afraid," you said, choking on your words as Steve nipped at the skin of your throat. "Can't have people thinking just anyone can have me."

Steve pulled back, and god you melted right there. Hair a mess, eyes blown wide, and lips swollen. It was a glorious sight. "And I'm just anyone?" He was smug, overconfident. Irritatingly attractive.

"Yeah," you gripped the belt loops of his jeans, yanking forward. The bewildered look on his face made you grin. "so this stays between us."

"Aye aye, Captain."

And off you went again, lips colliding in heated snarls. There was a primal anger behind it, driving you into his strong arms as he encased you. Was this self sabotage? Maybe so, but it was the hottest thing you'd ever experienced. Steve's nimble fingers caressed their way up your back, finding the straps of your bra with ease. He snapped one against your shoulder, making you yelp and using the sound to slip his tongue back into your mouth. If it didn't make your bones feel like jelly, you would have chastised him for the cheap move. Carnal desire taking over your mind, you let your cold hands scrape up his chest, lifting the hem of his shirt to graze his stomach.

He tensed up at the touch, a stuttered breath fanning your face as he sighed. His two hands landed firm on your knees, creeping up your legs and stopping as he stroked your inner thigh with his forefingers.

"Permission to come aboard?"

You nodded, arousal coursing through you like a stake to the heart.

"Words, please...Captain."

"You find yourself funny, don't you?"

"Very." His fingers were so close yet so far from where you wanted them. "Do you want to?"

"Yes, I do."

"There we go."

He kissed you again, this time slow. It was harder than before, and as he swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, Steve slipped your underwear down your legs. He groaned into the kiss as he felt you, excitement clear by the wet patch on your panties. "God, you're wet."

You should have been embarrassed. You should have pulled your panties off the floor and run out of the house and all the way home without looking back. But you were putty in his hands as Steve slipped a finger inside of you, hooking upwards and finding that special spot almost immediately. A high pitched whine - one that shocked even you- made its way out of your mouth, muffled as you buried your head in Steve's neck as he set a slow pace. "What a pretty sound," he groaned, catching your face in his hand as you threw it back against the mirror. "You gonna keep making 'em like that?"

You nodded, breathless, and then he was out of your sight.

Steve kissed down your chest, shoving your dress over your stomach and kissing the skin as he went down. His fingers intwined with yours as they gripped the marble counter. You sat up to catch his eye, and what a pretty sight it was. Steve Harrington, pupils dilated with lust, with his head between your thighs. He kissed your thighs, and you mewled; so close yet so far.

"Please," you moaned. Embarrassment crept up on you, and you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "God, please Steve."

Steve dug his fingers into the skin of your thighs, toying with them. He kissed his way to your knees, enjoying the sight before him as you writhed about. "Please what?" he said, and had you not been desperate for him to bury his head between your legs you would have kicked him. He grinned as you fought the urge to beg. "What do you want?" He left surprisingly tender pecks to your knee.

"I want you."

"Where do you want me?" he was taking his time with you, partly for himself - savouring the moment, rejoicing in the way you fell apart before him- and partly to tease you into insanity.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned as he nipped the supple skin of your thighs.

"Steve is just fine." He laughed, putting you out of your misery as he licked one broad stripe up your centre. It was the stupidest, most reckless thing you could be doing, which made it even hotter as Steve hooked his hands under your hips, holding you on top of the counter as your legs wrapped round his head and your hands wove themselves into his hair. Almost immediately you understood Steve's reputation, and you felt a pang of possessiveness as his lips encased your clit, humming as he went. Your back arched off the tiles, mouth agape in a silent 'O' shape. Harrington knew what he was doing, that much was clear as your first orgasm crept up on you.

You could hardly muster words, the only sound in the jade coloured bathroom being the obscene wet sounds and your whimpers as Steve continued to ruin you on the counter. "I'm gonna - oh shit, Steve." The way you moaned his name - like it was the only one you knew, the only one that mattered- made Steve's jeans feel impossibly tight, palming himself for something, anything to relieve himself. He was just as desperate, just as wanting, as you were - if not more. The thought of what was to come made you clench around Steve's fingers, exploding in a white hot scream on his tongue. You fell back against the mirror, hairs sticking to the sides of your face, cheeks flushed with both heat and bashfulness. Steve crept up your stomach again, stealing a kiss when he made it to your lips.

You could taste yourself as he kissed you, slow and deep. His hands swiped the hair from your face, in a gesture entirely too sweet for a boy that had just ravaged you in his bathroom. It bothered you. That wasn't part of the interaction - there was no sweetness involved. It almost took you out of the moment, but as your hips bucked into Steve's, and he let out a strangled groan, the moment was saved. As his lips found purchase on your collarbones, your hands made work of unbuttoning his shirt - purposefully slow, you enjoyed watching his stomach tense as you grazed it. The sharp intake of breath as you began unbuckling his belt made you feel powerful, made your stomach do flips. "Here?" you asked, kissing down his neck to the space where it met his shoulders, "or somewhere else?"

Steve's eyes lit up like a christmas tree at the prospect that this - whatever this was- wasn't over just yet. He gripped your hands on his belt buckle. "Not here." With little effort, he hoisted you over his shoulder - much to your shock and dismay. You swatted his back but couldn't help the swell of arousal as his arm tightened round your waist. He set you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you with one hand on your cheek. In the dim light of his bedroom, Steve Harrington was devastatingly handsome. The soft glow of peaches and oranges made his eyes a molten chocolate, skin peppered with a red hue from...exertion.

"It's rude to stare." he said, voice void of the smugness from before. It made your ribcage rattle, heart thudding with the weight of his stare. It felt like he was looking at your soul, and it made you shiver. The boy who'd tormented you for years, was seeing you. Staring right back at him, your hands made their way to his belt loops. It was your turn to make him writhe a bit.

"Can't help it," you said, voice all airy and entirely foreign to your ears. It dripped with a lust, husky and soft. "You're somewhat of a looker."

You ripped his jeans open, nimble hands ridding him of the garment in seconds. As you grabbed the waistband of his boxers, the outline of his cock straining against the fabric, his hand stopping you. "As amazing as that would be," he said regrettably, "if I don't get you on that bed, I think I may lose my mind." He said it so breathlessly that it made your thighs clench together. He wanted you so badly. You cocked your head to the side, half playful and half serious as you said, "Do something about it then."

Steve didn't need to be told twice. He dove into you, hand steadying your head as your lips locked together - an irritatingly perfect puzzle piece finding another. You were a tangle of legs, arms, and lips as the two of you buried yourselves in Steve Harrington's bed, ridding each other of the clothes that stopped your from touching one another completely. His knee found its home between you, shifting your legs apart to make room for hips. You were encased in Steve; his scent, the feel of his lips on your skin, his legs locking yours in place. His hips rocking into yours as he kissed your neck with sinful skill.

Your hands grew restless, tugging at the hairs at the nape of his neck as if he would understand the morse code in the pulling. "Steve," you groaned as he knocked his hips into yours, "please."

You were begging, and you were embarrassed. You couldn't bring yourself to say the words- couldn't stand the thought of asking your middle school bully to fuck you in his bed at his own party. But the boy had other ideas.

"Say it." he toyed with your clit, thumbing it as you whined. When you stayed silent, he pinched one of your nipples between his fingers. he smirked at how quickly they puckered underneath him. "Say you want me."

Your cheeks burned with shame. You couldn't - wouldn't- beg him.

He hovered over you, hands either side of your head, nose brushing yours. You could feel the ghost of his lips over your own. His hand came to rest on your chin, thumb sliding over your lip, tugging it down and letting it slide back. "Open."

You did as he said, opening your mouth wide enough for Steve to slide his thumb into your mouth, a teasing smile on his face as you swirled your tongue around it. "Say you want me to fuck you." He pulled his thumb out of your mouth slowly, grinning as it made a satisfying pop. He leaned down to the shell of your ear. "Tell me you want me to ruin you," he whispered.

The burn in the pit of your stomach raged as Steve kissed the hollow of your throat, waiting for you to speak. Your breath was shallow, eyes closed as you whispered into the air, hoping the buzz of the party below would swallow your words.

"I want you to ruin me."

Steve grinned, wolfish and smug, as he lined himself up with you, locking eyes with you as he pushed himself in. You knew you were gone when he moaned your name like a prayer, said it like it was the cure to his troubles. Like you were something to treasure. One strong arm gripped the headboard as he panted. "God," he grunted out, "you feel incredible."

There was something electric about hearing praise from the boy that tormented you for years, something wickedly delightful about watching his mouth hang open with pleasure as he bottomed out inside you. You clenched around him, desperate for any friction to satisfy the burning between your legs. "Can I move?" he groaned.

"Yes, please."

In public, Steve was an athlete. Behind closed doors, under the sheets, he was an Olympian. He set a fast pace, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, deeper inside of you every time. The sounds of the party- the drunken teens stumbling, the music blaring- were drowned out by the slapping of skin on skin, of your whines and Steve Harrington's moans as you fell apart beneath him.

"Shitshitshit- man, you're amazing." he moaned as he rutted into you. You were frozen in pleasure, mouth open from silent screams of pleasure. You bit your lip, so hard you would have tasted blood had Steve not being everything you felt in that moment. "Oh, fuck," you groaned at a particularly deep thrust, "I'm s-so close."

"Me too," Steve whimpered, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you'd ever heard. "Where should I-"

"I'm on the pill." you sputtered out.

Steve's eyes darkened, delighted at the permission, determined to get you to your peak before he fell apart himself. "Yeah? You gonna let me come inside?" His hand reached between your conjoined bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit. "Gonna come for me?"

Your back arched off the mattress, the coil in your stomach snapping at the same time Steve collapsed on top of you, his stuttering as he came. You both panted, recovering from the exertion. Rolling over onto his back, you and Steve stared at the ceiling, the weight of what you had done sinking in.

It was wrong, so wrong. He'd just broken up with Nancy, seconds before you let him crawl between your legs. You would have felt terrible, like you'd betrayed her, had it not been so good.

You would have felt guilty, had you not felt the shake of your legs still reeling from the intensity of your orgasm.

Steve turned his head to face you. You turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry about how I treated you, before."

You snorted.

"You don't have to apologise just because we had sex, Steve." The ridiculousness of it made you laugh. "Thanks, though." You were both silent for a while, just laying there. You tried spying your clothes across the room. "Where's my underwear?"

"Oh," Steve mumbled, getting up from the bed and into the bathroom. You couldn't help but stare at his retreating form, back muscles flexing as he stretched. You did the same, a soreness washing over you. Steam filled the bathroom, the sound of the shower running loud against the dying party below. Steve returned in his jeans, smirking as pulled your lavender lace panties from the back pocket, tossing them at you. You caught them with one hand.

"Perv," you said, sliding them back up your legs. Steve smiled from the bathroom doorway. He was looking at you that way again. It made your stomach uneasy. "What?" you said.

"You can, uh, clean up here. If you want." He scratched the back of his neck. He gestured to the shower. You stomach flipped again. You rose from the bed, using the sheet to cover your chest. You stopped in front of Steve, who was struggling not to look down at your loosely covered front.

"This is not a thing, okay?" you said slowly, as if saying the words aloud would make them true. As if hearing them from your own lips would stop the way your lips yearned for Steve's the second they left your own. "This goes nowhere else."

Steve nodded, mockingly serious.

"Aye aye, Captain."

He grabbed your hand, making you drop the sheet, and led you into the steam filled bathroom. You let him wash your skin, all soap and too much affection given who he was to you. You didn't stop him when he kissed below your eye, on your nose, or when he placed an all too tender kiss on your lips for just a second. But it was long enough. You let him wrap you in a towel, drying you with gentle hands. You didn't object when he dressed you in his old basketball shorts and a tattered sweatshirt. You let him tuck you under his sheets, didn't flinch away when he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You let him wrap his arm over your waist when he returned, having kicked the last stragglers out of the house. You let yourself fall asleep in his bed, warm and soft and all too inviting, much like its inhabitant.

What you wouldn't do was let yourself fall for this, you thought. You wouldn't fall for Steve Harrington. Wouldn't fall for his moves, his overused lines. Wouldn't get wrapped up with the wrong guy.

But as morning came, and you turned to see Steve already looking at you, that look on his face, you thought that maybe it was too late. And by the looks of Steve Harrington, it was too late for him as well.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut' #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #enemies to lovers #bully romance #slowburn #fluff #smut #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrigton fanfic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve x nancy #chrissy cunningham #this is so dirty #I need a hot shower #joseph quinn #joe keery

[spywhitney]

Mean Hobie X Journalist Fem!Reader - Bully Romance in AU Oneshot/ Headcannon

Tags: Smut, non-con, dub-con, alternate universe and bully romance. You have been warned.

Okay, so hear me out...

🕸️Hobie is Spiderman, and he still hates authority and all that, but not only is he a complete dick, he's corrupt as shit. I'm talking heists, drug deals and murder (or whatever you fancy).

🕸️Back when you were studying journalism, you had a run in with a creep late at night, and Hobie saved you.

🕸️Only, it turns out he was a more dangerous than the one he beat up until he was practically a puddle. Calling you a "pretty young ting", pushing you against the wall and kissing you along your neck.

🕸️You struggle, but he's too strong and he tongue kisses you to shut you up, any cries for help dying on his eager tongue.

🕸️He lets you go, but to say he was your new motivation for becoming a journalist was an understatement.

🕸️Years later, you're a journalist and your anti-Spiderman rhetoric has become popular, but since he never bothered you again, you begin wondering if you imagined the whole thing.

🕸️Despite everything, you couldn't forget how that deep voice vibrated against your ear, how the sight of his lip ring had you pressing your thighs together- much to your shame

🕸️One day, a new journalist joined. He was instantly liked by everyone.

🕸️He didn't seem to pay you no mind, until your lunch went missing and you saw him throw an identical container to yours away, a smirk fighting his way to his dark features.

🕸️Stolen lunches turned to whispered insults, to "accidental" shoves which turned to full-on unwarranted (and very sexually charged) touching. Everyone thought you were crazy when you tried to bring these things up, so you quit.

🕸️You joined a bigger, better company. You had a keyring alarm, having learnt from last time, for when you walked the last few minutes home. Then, a figure snatched you into an alleyway.

🕸️You fumbled for your keys, but the figure caged you, snatched the alarm off and threw it against the wall. The little device crumpled like paper. It was Spiderman.

🕸️"Miss me, luv?" Sharp canines prick your skin and a cry falls from your lips. You swat his hand that tries to invade the space between your thighs, a sinister chuckle filling your ears.

🕸️He holds your wrists so tight you're scared he'll break them, but he binds them together with his webs and shoots another to attach the first to somewhere above you, leaving you unable to run away.

🕸️You open your mouth, but it only falls open completely when he pulls off his mask- it's your ex-collegue from work. The one that bullied you.

🕸️Pleas tumble from your lips and Hobie watches you with a cigarette in hand as you clammer for any sense of humanity in him, but once you have no more to say, he calmy takes out the cigarette under his boot and wanders in front of you.

🕸️"What do I 'ave here? A slut caught in m'web." Futility claws at your throat as he hooks your legs to his sides, pushing his hot tongue into your waiting mouth.

🕸️You silently curse yourself for being too stunned at the familiarity to fight more, but as Hobie began shifting his crotch into you, something twists within you and you feverishly return his kiss.

🕸️Wetness flooded your panties as the kiss became sensually frantic, the whole ordeal transforming to animal lust as you swapped saliva, and relented to his every hungry touch.

🕸️A hard twitch of his clothed dick and a growl echoing in your throat shot you over the edge. Hobie pulled away, his lip ring and other piercings shinning in the dim moonlight as he grinned devilishly as you came, your hips rolling in languid movements, your pleasure leaking from you.

🕸️A snap bounces off the walls as your whines became less frequent, the concrete acting as your sole cushioning.

🕸️His shadow obscured your vision as you laid face first on the dirty London floor, but you were too shrung out to care. A harsh groan came from behind you and then you felt something warm splatter on the skin of your thighs, an instinctually whimper illiciting a hum from Hobie, you didn't need to look to know what that was.

🕸️Suddenly, your skirt was pulled up to expose your arse. You felt Hobie's wicks fleetingly brush over your skin, then his full lips teasingly kiss your cunt, the cold night making you shiver as you eagerly thrust for more contact. But he already began pulling your panties down your legs.

🕸️Then, you heard several clicks that seemed to be the only noise around. Weakly, you turned your head to see Hobie taking photos of you- tied at your wrists, pussy exposed with a fucked out expression on your face.

🕸️"I'll admit, ya cunt is even more entertaining to fuck than your career, but ya know. Wouldn' want anyone to see these pics would ya?" Your reaction must've been too minute in the dark as he bent down and yanked you by your hair to force you to stare back at him.

🕸️"Ya do have a way with words, but ya gonna do a few tings for me from now on. I won't post these filthy pics for everyone to see if ya do what I say... And let me do what I want with ya."

🕸️From that angle you got a pristine view of a wet patch on his jeans and uncontrollably you released a mewl from your throat. Hobie chuckled at your response before dropping you harshly and stuffing your panties in his pocket.

🕸️He walked away, calling out to you as it slowly dawned on you how screwed you were:

🕸️"Get home safe, slut. I'll be seeing ya tomorrow."

#hobie brown #non con #dub con #smut #top hobie brown #atsv #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you #bully romance #spiderpunk #hobart brown #hobie #alternate universe #hobie brown x reader #atsv fanfiction #hobie x fem!reader

[calming-chaos]

#book blog #bookaddict #bookaholic #bookshelves #bookstagram #booktok #bibliophile #booklovers #bookstack #bookworm #rina kent #royal elite series #aiden king #dark romance #bully romance

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 (𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑙𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑖𝑟 #1) 🗡☠️🍷

✍🏽: 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

Get the book! 🌟

#the cruel prince #holly black #the folk of air #fantasy romance #fantasy #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #prince cardan #jurdan #young adult #high queen of elfhame #high king of elfhame #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #politics #elfhame #bully romance #hate at first sight #opposite attract #rivals to lovers #new books #books recommendations #books #books recs #libros #libros recomendados #morally grey hero #dark fairytale

[angelic-vibez]

Jungkook x f!readers | Bully

Genre; Hella angsty but with fluff ending.

Warning; bullying, violence, Kisses....? I guess ..

Summary; Jeon Jungkook is your bully. But doesn't like the thought of someone else bothering you let alone hit you.

Jeon Jungkook. The man that feels like he's destined to make your life miserable and is actually successfuly doing so. You always thought he must be a psycho, out of his damn mind to bully people in college.

The man never cuts you some slacks. The classic smacking your books out of your hand and sending your papers flying around in the hall ways was his daily religious ritual. His assignments were yours to complete, no matter how exhausting. Whatever he orders, you're obligated to do.

You sometimes would wish you'd go back in time to change what you did even though it was the right thing to do. You stood up to Jungkook when he was bullying an innocent boy along with his stupid friends. Ever since then, it was never the same. And as much as you wanted helping that poor boy and you tried, you wished you had stayed hidden to avoid the never ending trouble you are still in to this day.

Libraries. The quiet place you get some peaceful reading aren't so peaceful anymore. He had dropped a damn living spider in your hair causing you to shoot up from your seat abruptly and tried to shaking it off your hair as you screamed on top of your lungs. Turns out, it was fake. He held his stomach, trying hard not to fall off his chair as he laughed so hard while you got kicked out.

Cafeterias aren't a safe place too. Like when he flipped the tray of food all over you as he walked by chuckling as if it was nothing was his normal routine.

Waking up everyday to go to class has been a dreadful experience so far. Or at least until you make it into one. The only time you feel like you could breath a little is when your in class. You were a freshman and he's a third year student so you never had the same class. That's why you started to spend a little more time in class just to catch a break and it was also the reason why Jungkook spread rumors about you sleeping with your professor to get the grades that you got for studying your ass off day and night. It was just traumatizing.

You had thought you'd live the aesthetic college life you dreamed of since highschool ended. But no. Not when Jeon freaking Jungkook was alive.

Gums he'd stick in your hair, trip you over so you'd fall face first, the lies he tells to get you in trouble. It was getting way out of hand but whose gonna tell on Jeon Jungkook? Unless they desperately have a death wish.

Half of freshman year has passed with you leading a horrible life so far. You've definitely decided to transfer to anywhere after the year ends at this point.

_

An ordinary day for you as you let you dark long hair cover you, books clutched in your arms tight, back pack slung over your shoulders as you walked down the hall head held down with your friend beside you continously ranting about something you quiet didn't hear.

*bump*

You crash into a big figure. You sighed thinking it's Jungkook. But you were terribly wrong. You looked up only to find another face. Infuriated one. You looked down to see he was holding an open soda. Which has also spilled all over his white shirt.

"What the fuck?" He spits at you.

"Im- I'm so sorry- I didn't- I wasn't looking"

He takes step towards you giving you a dirty look. "Hey, she apologized. Move along retard" your friend defends you.

"T'fuck did you just call me?" He turns to her and grabs her by the collar of her shirt.

"Hey! Stop it!" You tried defending but-

*SMACK!!*

One back handed slap right across your cheek sent you flying straight to the floor. You felt dizzy from the harsh blow you received. The hall way went silent after gasps where heard here and there. Your vision begin to blurr. Hot tears streamed down your cheek as the man finally let's go your friend and walks over you.

"What the fuck? What was his problem anyway? He got some anger issues or something? Who hits a girl?" Your friend says as you were both sat down in lecture hall waiting to begin the class. Your metal bottle of water on your cheek to ease the stinging pain and burning sensation.

"It's my fate" you chuckled.

"*tsk* girl shut up! We are definitely reporting that psycho. This stupid bullying needs to stop" she shakes her head and scoffs making a mental note for later.

Everyone stole glances at you at school that day as they whispered to eachother. They were surprised that you actually made it alive. You were at the cafeteria to eat lunch. You expected the same bullying there as you held your tray to make it to your table. You peacefully did and it was a miracle.

You did not glance at Jungkook to notice the unusual concerned look he was giving you. But then he was red. In boliong rage as he sat among he's group of friends who were unusually quiet. His eyes followed you as you sat with your friend, long black hair covering your small face and the trauma it has received earlier.

In the midst of your conversation you looked up when you felt a preense and you saw Jungkook towering over you. To say he was infuriated would be a completle and utter understatement. You looked at him back at your friend and back at him as you swallowed.

You were scared. You tried to think what went wrong. What you had done.

"Oh" you say as it clicked and fish through your bag to find the papers "I-Ive done the assignment" you say innocently handing him the papers. Just like always the paper went flying from your hands but this time it was technically his not yours. Frowning a little you got up to collect them but he sat you right back down as he also sits down facing you before pulling you closer to him. You thought you were going to recive another blow today and shilded yourself holding your hands up while squeezing you eyes shut.

"Let me see!" He growls grabbing your face and pushing you hair behind your ear to observe the giant red mark evidence of what he had been hearing the whole morning. His jaw clenched as your tears threaten to spill. His chest heaved with each breath he took and you were finally out of his grasp. Through your blurred vision you could see his figure storming toward the group of guys and picked the one that looked quiet familiar to you. And before you knew it, he was throwing his fists like there was no damn tmorrow.

Few seconds into the fight and a crowd formed around, some students jumped in to separate the two before they killed eachother. Or rather before Jungkook killed him because even though he did take some blows, it was nothing compared to the damage he had done.

You suddenly feel light headed, witnessing the incident that unfolded before you. "Oh my god" was the last thing you whispered before the darkness consumed you completlety and you fell to the floor.

It took your friend a couple of seconds to pull her eyes off the men. She looks to the side and you weren't there where you stood seconds ago. She looks down to see you laying lifeless on the floor.

"Oh my God! Y/n!"

_

You woke up feeling your head aching. You shifted a little before your eyes open to stare at the white ceiling above you. You blink a few times before you pull yourself up and observed your surrounding. Your eyes widen as you found yourself in a completley unfamiliar room, laying on a bed.

You looked around completley baffled by your current situation. You scan around the room. The walls were painted black and the room had a quiet dark aesthetic. But the question was, why were you here?

After ganing full conciouness, you pull yourself off the bed and got up to investigate.

"Careful" you hear a strangely familiar voice. Head snapping towards its direction. And..Jungkook? "You should seat down"

"Wait-What? Who- Why am I- Why are you-? " You couldn't form a proper sentence.

"You passed out, princess" he plainly says and walks toward you where you took a step back as you felt him get closer.

"Here's an idea, how about you spare my life?" You say with a nervous smile. But he only sighs and grabs your wrist. He pulls you towards the bed before he sits you down on the edge. "Do not... move" he says before he leaves the room once again.

So many questions left unanswerd as you sat there afraid and awaited for something to happen. Jungkook was back with an ice pack in his hand. He pulled his chair so he was sat right infront of you. He gently placed the cold pack on your head. The spot you hit as you fell to the floor.

You were utterly confused by Jungkook's sudden behavior. He was acting kind? Towards you?

"What happened?" You ask.

"I told you. You passed out" he says retrieving his hands away "I guess you couldn't handle watching me beat him to death huh" he smirked before placing the ice pack on your head again.

Your eyes widen as you begin to recall the whole situation. He actually did beat a man almost to death and you wonder why he sat here as if nothing happened and why he wasn't in any trouble at school.

"I- I need to leave" you say as he thought he might actually be a psycho.

"You're not leaving, baby. Not unless I make sure you're alright and that dumb fuck is taken care of" he says.

"And since when do you care? Last time I checked, you're not any different than he is" you finally muster up the courage to say which caused him to shot up from his seat and run his fingers through his hair, rage slowly building up.

"That's different, princess, I never lay a finger on you" He explains. As if that makes it okay for him to do what he had done to you all along. And you could've told him that but you were still scared of him so you didn't want to poke the bear.

"Have you eaten anything lately? You look so weak" he squats down infront you and places hand on your for head to check on your temperature then down to your cheek as his thumb rubs circles soothingly.

From some reason your heart skips a beat and your stomach forming knots "Come here" he says not waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his and pull you out of the room.

He told you to sit on the couch while he brings you food. Minutes pass by and he was seated infront of you with ramen in his hands. "Open up" he orderd. He was actually going to feed you.

"How can I be sure you did not posion that?" You say squinting your eyes at him. Jugkook sighs and rolls his eyes before shoving the noodles on the chopsticks into his mouth. He then begins to feed you. He'd whipe your lips with his thumb whenever you got something on it. He'd push you hair behind your ear and observe you preety face.

Who is he and what has he done with Jungkook? You think to yourself as you were seated there feeling like you're looking at a whole new person. He was taking care of you. And he is your bully, who finds pleasure in making you suffer.

"What's wrong?" He searches for your eyes as you zone out into space "Y/n!"

You suddenly feel a wave of overwhelming emotions hitting you all at once and the urge to leave. "I need to l-leave" you get out of your seat and decide to find your way out of wherever the hell you were.

"Y/n , wait!" He chases behind you.

"Where's my shoes?" You asked but didn't waste another second to wait for his reply determined to leave bare foot if you had to.

"Y/n" he calls once again, softly as his hand grab onto your wrist and pull you back to him. You slammed into his chest.

"Kiss me" he says breathlessly.

"W-What?" You stutter.

"Please?" He pleads with doe eyes as his hand wrap around your waist to pull you more closer if that was even possible.

Before you know it, Jungkook leans down to capture your lips in his. And now he was kissing you? His lips were so soft as he desperately continues to glide them against yours. The lack of oxygen reaching your brain made you feel light headed and your knees weaken. If it wasn't for his strong arms keeping you in place, you would've fallen.

You pushed his chest a little, finally separating your lips and gasping for air. "I'm so sorry Y/n. I'm sorry for everything I put you through" he whispers eyes closed against your lips. Your small hands made their way to cup his face, thumbs dragging down his redden bottom lip.

"Jungkook...." You whisper and he almost let out a whimper at how right it sounded to hear his name coming from your mouth. "I- I can't do this"

He weaknes at your words. He was hurt but tries his best to keep himself collected. "Okay" he says and moves out of your hold before walking away hand gripping into his hair.

You stood there for a second, processing what had just happened and you turned to leave but you stopped at your tracks when you hear drawers being open and slammed shut. You wanted to leave again but you were concerned so you just wanted to check on him.

Walking back, you find him in the kitchen as he gulps down a glass full of alcohol like it was water.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy?" You question feeling a bit concerned at his behavior.

"The fucking door is that way Y/n, leave!" He demands.

"What did you excpect? For me to forgive you so easily? Incase you haven't noticed you've made my life a living hell for half a year" You point out.

"Your absolutely right! I'm the monster here. Nobody argued so please just leave and I won't bother you again-" The man was boiling with utter rage. He did take hits for you, fought for you and took care of you even though It was for one day. But maybe that wasn't enough for your forgiveness. "-ow! fuck" he curses as the glass completley shatters to pieces in his hand from the way he had a grip on it. A piece cut his palm a little. That's how mad the man was.

"Jungkook!" You rush over to see his injured hand.

_

You were almost done cleaning up his wound. It wasn't that bad but it scared you. It also took you a few to drag his ass to the couch because he was so damn stubborn.

"Stop acting like you care Y/n" he says earning a deep chuckle from you.

"I didn't say that and you're my bully" you comment.

"Whatever" he rolls his eyes, head leaned back on the couch.

"There you go. All done. Make sure you don't hold glasses too hard next time" you say with a chuckle and placed a peck on the band aid. He cups your face and pulls you close.

"God you're so beautiful" he breaths.

"And you, my friend, are very complicated" you smile trying to maintain concerned look.

You felt the soft bed against you back as he slowly lays you down, hovering on top and not breaking the kiss. He was gentle and passionate with his kiss and was hard for him to separate from your lips for the past ten minutes.

He kept peppering your whole face with kisses whilst you giggled. You both spent the rest of the night talking while laying in bed. Just you and Jungkook and things you never knew about eachother. Every now and then he'd get close and peck your lips before he continues to talk. His heart would flutter whenever your eyes shined as you talked about things that you loved. You had never thought you'd connect deep to this level with whom you thought was your worst enemy.

"You're not a monster, Kookie" you whisper in a sleepy voice, your eyes closed and you laid there on your chest.

Jungkook beams with smile and turns to look at you, carefully studying your beautiful features and the way you look cute laying on the side of your face.

"What did just call me?" He asks but you were already going into a deep slumber. He leaned in to kiss you once more. "What are you doing to me Y/n-ah"

°

°

© angelic-vibez 2022. Do not edit, repost, translate or copy.

#jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jimin #jhope #jin #bully romance #bts #bangtan #bts senarios #bts imagination #bts imagines #bts jimin #jinyoung #taehyung #rm bts #namjoon #min yoongi #jung hobi #park jimim #run bts

[poetryofmuses]

being nice is overrated, let us all bully each other.

#literature #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #darcy #dorian gray #jane austen #light academia #aesthetic poetry #art journal #dark academia aesthetic #bully romance #bully #nice guy #kindness #fuck being nice #overrated

[myeggsarefertilizedbytonystark]

“I'll love you till the world is dust.”

Lance fucking Orion.

#zodiacacademy #the zodiac academy #lance orion #darcy vega #tory vega #darius acrux #the vega twins #the heirs #fantasy romance #bully romance #soulmates #book couples #best book boyfriend

[romancebibliophile]

✨ ɮʊʀɖɛռɛɖ ɮօռɖֆ ✨

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕨 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝔸𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕪: 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝟜

I escaped Lowsky's clutches but now I'm separated from my fated mates as the country's defences crumble and far dark forces work to seize control.

Fate has spoken and I can no longer fight the inevitable pull towards the men destined to be mine. I'm desperate to find them – to know they're safe – to hold them in my arms.

But I'm not the only one searching. Tales of my existence – of my powers – mean once again I'm on the run. Only this time I don't know who I'm running from.

Can I find my mates before my enemies find me?

***

✨ Pre-Order Now on Amazon ✨

https://books2read.com/burdenedbonds

Coming Soon!

A new why choose paranormal romance series with magic, ruthless love interests and fated mates. Burdened Bonds is the fourth and penultimate book in the Arrow Hart Academy series. The story will not complete in this book and contains some scenes that readers may find challenging.

#hannah haze #age gap romance #bully romance #student professor #arrow heart academy #book 4 #preorder #burdened bonds #forbidden love #academy romance

[absolutebl]

Hi, me again. So you speak quite highly of my beautiful man...And I really don't get it😭😭. I've tried watching it twice and could never make it through the 3rd episode. I just couldn't get past how mean the guy was. So I guess my question would be what about it makes you like it so much? Maybe it's because I'm not that familiar with Japanese comics and BLs?

Maybe. 

You have to get bully romances and the whipping boy dynamic and then make if far enough to realize this is a subversion of those tropes. For example, did you know Hira is the seme of this narrative? Oh yes. 

It’s a harsh show, but that’s the point of it, it’s harsh on its characters, and it’s harsh on the viewers. Because it wants us to really think about what’s going on here, not the actions, but the emotions behind those actions. Why is Hira the way he is? Why is Kiyoi? And why does Hira never consider either? 

It’s exploring different interpretations of love, kink, and power dynamics, but also loneliness, social ostracism, and isolation. 

If you stopped half way through, you stopped right before the GOOD time jump. 

After they part ways and Hira goes to university and grows up (away from the object of his obsession)... everything changes. 

Also we get a penultimate episode entirely from Kiyoi’s perspective and after that our audience perspective also morphs. 

We suddenly realize how oddly similar these two are, and how they have reacted to hostile society, queer desire, and the companion disenfranchisement in different but complementary ways. 

The beauty of Utsukushii Kare is exactly what you started to experience but rejected in frustration (probubly because of the raw ugliness). 

We are suckered into thinking it's one kind of horrible narrative (stalker, obsession, advantage, and abuse). When in fact, once you're given perspective, it turns out to be something entirely different. 

We’re left not thinking so much about bully versus worship, and tired old tropes but about the emotions guiding human behavior: 

What is the nature of true affection? 

How can the wrong kind of love damage?

What is the meaning of the “right kind of love” when contrasted to the warped desires of an individual? 

The narrative and personality twists are ALL based in character.

On a rewatch, after completely finishing it this show, it will become a whole new story - you’ll never be able to unsee the inherent pain that Hira's own worship is causing him and everyone around him, particularly Kiyoi, who has been forced onto a pedestal and into a god-like role that he wanted, yes... but not from Hira. Not from a boyfriend. 

It’s the ultimate emotional reveal. Like how if you know the twist of Crying Game or Flight Club or Sixth Sense it will never be the same movie it was the first time around, but Utsukushii Kare DONES THIS AS A ROMANCE. 

It’s so fucking clever. 

It's not victim blaming, it's a dialogue about the nature of emotional responsibility and an examination of what it means to truly love someone as they are (and not as you idolize them or want them to be). 

In an odd way, this show is a pretty profound criticism of parasocial relationships.

The other thing about My Beautiful Man is that it’s for Japanese audiences and, somewhat accidentally I think... us. International BL & yaoi super fans. This is not a show that anyone outside the community would understand. This is not intro level BL. We don’t show this to our friends to get them intersted in the genre (unless those friends are heavily in the kink community). 

Here I am losing my mind over it, but notice that this didn’t really happen until the final episode? 

Now, I don’t mind the bully aspect because it’s so much a part of yaoi DNA, so it was never a matter of me dropping this show. But it did take the ending for me to love it as hard as I did. 

If you can’t make it through I ENTIRELY understand. But I do feel sorry you won’t get to experience such an amazing piece of narrative and character dexterity. 

This is the kind of BL that can ONLY come from Japan. No other BL producing country has the chops, depth, or talent to pull this off. Nor are they willing to push as hard or as dark. You have to walk the edge of the knife for this kind of story, and as a result it will cut. It’s whether you like the pain or not. 

There is a reason this show won awards, and it is ENTIRELY different from why, say, ITSAY or Semantic Error won awards. All of them are beautifully acted and filmed, but while ITSAY is about honesty in an ugly world, and Semantic Error is about perfection and ignoring all ugliness, Utsukushii Kare is about connection despite (or perhaps because of) our own ugliness. 

“My Beautiful Man” is both subject and irony. 

Utsukushii Kare is about embracing what is flawed, and examining that as something to be honored because it is flawed. Which means that ultimately, like all the best of the Japanese romances, it is about hope. 

#Utsukushii Kare #My Beautiful Man #defending bl #bully romance #kinky romance #japanese bl #live action yaoi #adapted from a manga #best bl #my favorite bl

[thatpunkmaximoff]

Book Two of...

Story: 3 out of 5 Smut: 5 out of 5

I still can’t wrap my mind around these college kids being so lethal. I know it’s all fictional, but it’s just a little too much.

Don’t get me wrong, the story and smut is still entertaining, but it’s just not my cup of tea. I’m sure lots of you will enjoy it though.

Each character is enjoyable up to a certain point. There were many times I hated each character, but they redeemed themselves. Mostly.

And while I said that this wasn’t really my cup of tea, I still wanna read book three. I need to find out about Crystal and House Tartarus.

Now here are my rambling thoughts…

* Oh shit. I just realized that Lana is Felix’s little sister 🤦🏻‍♀️

* This fraternity rivalry is ridiculous. Like why does the Phantom Society wanna hit back at the Skull and Serpent Society? You guys fucked around and found out, and now you’re pissy?

* “Now make your choice, little kitty. What’s it going to be? Keep your secret or your body?” // “Secret.” // “Good choice.”

* Damn. Kai really took out his frustrations on Lana. Felix is gonna rage if he ever finds out.

* Wow. Kai’s keeping this a secret from his boys 👀

* Ew. Jason’s a lousy fuck.

* Damn. He really did lick her like a lollipop 😂

* As of right now, I like Kai, hate Nathan, and don’t trust Milo.

* Nathan wanting Milo to record everything Kai does to Lana so he can extort her is pissing me off. Felix should have killed him in book one.

* *sighs* I don’t know how I feel about these guys.. I like Kai well enough, but the other two suck. And don’t even get me started and Lana’s badassery. It’s just too much.

* Nathan’s really pissing me off. Kai got her to agree to be your fuck toy and you still wanna extort her for money? Fuck you, dude. I hope Kai kicks your ass when he finds out.

* “Are you going to tie me up again? Use me like your friends did!” // “No…” His knees slowly cave in on him, and he sinks to the cold, hard stones right in front of me. “I want to submit. To be punished, to be hurt… to be used. Command my body. I am yours.”

* Damn. Milo really is twisted. I only love him when he’s not being Nathan’s little bitch.

* Fucking Nathan extorting her for 2K and Jason abandoning her the moment he saw the pic. Fuck both these dudes.

* “It’s a matter of life or death.” // “Then die.”

* Wow. Lana actually had a semi-vulnerable moment with Nathan and Milo, and Nathan had to go and ruin it. I almost feel bad for Milo.

* Fuck. Jason knows. Jason knows and he’s gonna blab. If not him, then definitely Crystal. Lana is so fucked.

* Oh no. Poor Milo.

* Damn. Lana straight up murdered all those people when three guys couldn’t do it 😂

* Well fuck. Lana got recognized and now they’re gonna be after her. Is this where I start to really love the boys? The touch her and die vibes coming in?

* Lol Jason’s bitch ass got what he deserved. I can’t believe he told Felix everything. Fuck that dude.

* Why do I have a feeling this Caleb dude found that folder of Lana’s pics on Nathan’s laptop and is gonna use them for his gain 🤦🏻‍♀️

* Nathan’s parents ain’t coming out of prison. Damn. Oh well.

* Fucking called it.

* And now she’s been kidnapped. Awesome.

* So if Caleb didn’t send the pic, who did?

* Oh shit. It was Crystal. Accidentally, but still.. fuck.

* Damn. So Crystal got taken and now I gotta read book 3 to find out what happened to her 😒

#spine ridge university series #spine ridge university #evil boys #clarissa wild #lana rivera #kai torres #nathan reed #milo fletcher #dark romance #mafia romance #booktok book review #book review #bully romance #romance

[maelialuv]

oh my god. can i pretty please get a part two to Call It What You Want (steve harrington)? steve fails to disregard his feelings towards the reader after sleeping together, but how long can he go until he breaks after seeing she’s completely neglected his existence. smut! (rough sex, but very passionate cause why not lol, perv!steve, jealous!steve and pls add anything if you’d like! thank you love :’)

So It Goes, Steve Harrington .

(part two to Call It What You Want)

Sumarry: Hooking up with your old bully was never on the cards. But Steve Harrington has a habit of getting in the way of plans.

Warnings: SMUT! this is FILTHY! slowburn! breeding kink! perv!steve (a teeny bit), angst! steve is hopeless with women, fluffy ending <3

Word count: 9.5K (ohmygod)

It had been one week since you'd done it. One week since you'd done the most reckless thing in your whole life. Seven days since you'd lost your head and slept with your old bully. Seven days since you'd slept with your, supposed, best friend's ex-boyfriend. Just seven days since you'd slept with Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High.

The morning after replayed in your mind like a broken tape, in torturous clarity thanks to not having a hangover. The way you ran from the Harrington residence played behind your eyes without end. The walk home, unkindly long and silent with nothing but your thoughts - memories of him, and the way he touched you- to keep you company. The way you ran to your bathroom, stripping down and tossing his clothes in your hamper as if they were toxic waste, and the way you scrubbed your body in the shower as if the soap would somehow remove the feeling of his hands on you from your head. You didn't know if you were more disgusted with yourself for doing it. or for the fact that somewhere inside, you wanted it to happen again.

You felt different, like someone else, as you got ready in the mirror each day that proceeded the party. Felt guilty as you looked at the arch of your neck, the feeling of Steve’s lips there still as strong as they were that night. You felt a pit in your stomach as you looked at your nose, remembering the way Steve had placed a delicate kiss there , feather light, as he washed your skin in the shower. You now saw yourself as a reckless idiot, driven by some unknown desire for what? Closure? Or was it power that your subconscious so desperately wanted?

You only hoped your mindless scrubbing in the shower, skin red as you zoned out, would tell you the answers. You found no solace in the space between the tiles, only lime build up.

You wouldn't tell a soul. Your parents were none the wiser, as were your friends, to the battle your brain was at with your heart.

An aggression had settled over you, a dark looming cloud any time he was mentioned. You became snippy, unjustifiably short. Chrissy assumed you were pissed off about the party, still reeling from the belittling interaction with Carol and Tommy, as well as Steve.

She had apologised relentlessly in the days following. On and on, despite your reassurance, Chrissy swore she would never let "the redheaded witch and her flying monkey" talk to to you ever again.

The week had gone that way, Chrissy sending you an apologetic glance any time Harrington, the party or anything relating to them was mentioned. You felt guilty that she felt guilty, but you could never tell her what happened. You already felt like a massive hypocrite, you couldn't bear to have another person know it too.

You'd been stood by your locker, thankful for the lack of a certain basketball player in the halls, having had been able to avoid him for the full school week, when Chrissy bounded over to you. Without a word, she grabbed your hand and - with surprising strength- dragged you into the nearest bathroom.

"Did you hear?" she said, voice a mix of shock and curiosity. Immediately paranoia spread over you like hives, certain that Chrissy was doing damage control. "Steve and Nancy broke up at the party on Saturday." Her voice was even, no hint of suspicion or knowledge or anything, or anyone, that you had done.

"Woah," you said, hoping only you heard the waver in your voice as you tried your best to keep your face void of guilt, "what happened?" you asked, knowing that any account you heard would never be as accurate to the front row seat you had to the argument.

You hardly heard Chrissy as she spoke, her animated words falling on deaf ears as you realised that nearly every person was going to be talking about Nancy and Steve. The It Couple, King and Queen of the school, had fallen apart. Every girl was going to be fawning over Steve again- not that Nancy had stopped them, now they would be more overt- and Nancy would be the One that Got Away. You felt angry when Chrissy mention there were whispers that Steve was holed up in his house, heartbroken over the split. You felt even worse when she told you that Nancy was already dealing with a rehash of last years cheating rumours.

Nancy had to hold you back from ripping Steve's head off last fall over the, now, infamous 'Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler' graffiti.

This wasn't part of your plan. You'd made such good friends, come out of your shell, cemented yourself as a somebody. Nancy was happy, you were happy and everything was fine just the way it was.

And Steve Harrington was messing it all up.

Your first classes went by in blurry seconds, your attention focused on the cracks in your desk or the clouds outside as you thought about the whole nuclear explosion of a situation. You wished you'd never agreed to go to the stupid party. You wished you'd just shrugged out of Harrington's grip and run downstairs and gone home. You wished you hadn't kissed Steve back when he leaned in, wished you'd pushed him off instead of tugging him closer.

You wished you could rewind time and not allow him to touch you, make time stop and slap yourself for loving it so much. You hoped you would forget how he made you feel; the white hot burning on your skin as his lips travelled across your stomach, the gentle touch of his hands as he dried your hair and dressed you in his clothes.

You hoped you would forget everything about Steve Harington.

Deciding on a healthy dose of ditching, you made your way out to the school's parking lot, intent on walking home and enjoying the empty house whilst your parents worked.

Then you saw him sat on the hood of his car, a cigarette dangling from his lip as he brushed a frustrated hand through his hair. Your feet felt as though they were glued to the floor as his eyes met yours, unable to move like his gaze willed you to stay there. It was the first time you'd seen him since then. It was only when he raised the carton to you - a peace offering- that you were able to move your limbs and walk over to Steve. He was wearing a blue sweatshirt and jeans, and your mind was cast back to the sweatshirt sitting in your hamper getting buried under clothes like that would make it disappear. When you took a cigarette, Steve held the lighter out and lit it for you. An entirely too flirtatious gesture given the gossipy climate.

"You took off on Sunday," he said, a statement and not a question. His voice was indifferent, but his brows furrowed as he spoke. "Left your clothes behind."

"Yeah, I did." You took long drags, hoping the edge in your voice was a clear enough message to Steve that you didn't need to talk about that. He scooted over on the hood, an invitation to sit. You remained standing, and Steve pursed his lips.

You didn't need to be told to relive the awkwardness you felt when you'd woken up. The way Steve was already awake , tall silhouette in the doorway as he brushed his teeth in the bathroom. The room was suddenly too small, Steve's clothes suddenly suffocating. You heard the shower turn on, sensing time for escape. You'd thrown on your shoes, crept out of the room and booked it out of the Harrington house. Steve had watched as you disappeared down the street from the bathroom window. You'd caught a glimpse of his figure as you threw a nervous glance over your shoulder, fearful of prying eyes seeing you do a walk - or run- of shame from the house.

"Been looking for you, you know." He said, almost shy as he squinted into the sun.

"Not very hard, clearly." you scoffed. When Steve just looked at you, eyes soft, you went on. "Why?"

"Why do you think," it was Steve's turn to laugh, though his was not mocking. It was sincere, too kind. Real. "I want to talk to you."

Knots formed in your stomach, and your brows knit together in a tight line. "What is there to talk about?" you said harshly, feeling a pang of guilt as Steve recoiled, "we slept together, Steve. It happened, cool. End of story." You said, turning to walk away when Steve reached for your elbow.

"Well, hang on there a second," Steve said, stubbing his cigarette out and standing, hands on his hips, "I think there's some stuff to talk about." He looked around, nervous for prying eyes. "Like the fact that that," he said, astounded, "was the best I've ever had." He took a step closer to you. You shrugged him off when he rested a hand on your arm. "There's clearly something between us, here."

You hated to admit it, or agree with him in any way, but Steve was right. You'd had your share of guys, but Steve was unlike any of them. The sex was incredible, as was the chemistry. You'd had to re-live it, in excruciating detail, most nights since the party. But Steve was not a good guy to get involved with, and not someone you could forgive yourself for forgiving. So you remained stand offish, cold, to the boy.

"Sex is sex , Steve, you'll find another 'best' in a month." You dismissed, wishing you'd ignored him and gone straight home. His face was pleading, and it made him look younger, like a lost child looking for their mother. “Look, it was a one time thing. Go back to Tommy and Carol, and forget it ever happened. Got it?”

Steve’s face contorted, a mix of frustration and confusion and a little bit of anger. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was meant to find you the day after, be there at your door with a speech prepared about how truly sorry he was for how things went. But he was so taken a back by your escape, the only proof that you had been there being your clothes strewn about across his bedroom floor, that he just sat by his pool staring into space. He was meant to call you, convince you to come over so you could talk it out. But then he couldn’t find your number - and god forbid he call Nancy to get it.

Steve was conflicted. He was heartbroken about his breakup with Nancy. He loved her , or thought he loved her, with everything he had. But this part of him, this nagging part that wouldn’t shut up, was more hurt by you leaving. Upset that he couldn't drive you home or kiss you goodbye or convince you to stay just a little longer. He regretted not saying more in the moment, because maybe then you wouldn't have skipped out on him. If he'd just talked more, maybe stood up for you a little, then perhaps you would have stayed.

"Can we just go somewhere and talk?" he said, eyes pleading and a little desperate. "Please?"

His begging made your stomach churn. You had to get away from him, before whatever magnetic bullshit he had on you went into full effect and you threw yourself into his arms and agreed to hear him out. You stubbed your cigarette out with your shoe.

"I'm going home, Steve."

You hoped that your curtness would deter him. A nagging part of you felt bad, worrying that maybe - just maybe- you should have heard Steve out, that you were robbing yourself of some kind of closure both for your past and for that night. The other, more logical, half felt firm and strong. Finally, finally, it was you making Steve Harrington feel defeated. For once it was him feeling wronged.

You threw his clothes in the laundry when you got home.

It was seven thirty when Chrissy called you, and you were laid back on your bed. Her sudden excitement caught you off guard. "Woah, Chris, slow down," you said, "in English please."

"We're going to a pool party tomorrow!" she all but yelled, and you could imagine her riffling through her dresser for swim suit options. "And before you say no, it's the last pool party of the season before it gets so cold that we have to look like artic explorers for the next three months." There was a clunk, and then Chrissy let out a euphoric squeal. "Found it!"

You rolled over on to your side, twirling the phone cord in your hand as you laughed at your friend. "Okay, okay, I'll go. Who's throwing a pool party this close to Halloween?" you asked, face screwed up at the thought of the late October breeze on bare legs.

"It's Steve Harrington!"

You sat right up in bed, almost dropping the phone off the side of the bed. Of course, of course, he was throwing another party. And of course, you'd already agreed to go. "Oh," was all you could say.

"Look, I know Saturday was pretty intense," Chrissy argued, not realising just how correct her statement was, "but you can just stick with me, and even Eddie is going so he'll be there if you feel the urge to kick Harrington into the pool."

The knowledge that Munson - a long time friend and supplier of party materials for you and Chrissy- would be in attendance made the nausea somewhat subside. But the thought of going back to the Harrington residence, the thought of seeing Steve there again after the way today had gone, made bile rise in your throat. "Okay," you said to Chrissy, knowing you would be able to show your face for twenty minutes before convincing Eddie to let you smoke in the back of his van before getting a ride home, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You fell back on the bed, wishing the mattress would swallow you. It was like you were an alcoholic going into a bar, or rather a masochist for allowing yourself to relive what had caused you significant pain. You didn't even know if you had swimsuit still.

Digging through your dresser, finding sparkly denim from middle school, you thought your search was over. But then, in the very back of the bottom draw, you found your old prized possession.

The red sports illustrated bikini from 10th grade.

You'd bought it as a joke on a hot summer's day in 1983, a mall trip with Nancy on one of the many days you spent together attached at the hip. The poster next to the rack of bikinis had Brooke Shields, posed flirtatiously on a rocky beach, in the red suit. "You should get this for the pool!" Nancy had suggested, picking up the material and holding it to your chest. "It would look amazing!"

Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you looked at it in Nancy's hands. "Are you kidding?", you exclaimed, holding the flimsy bikini in your hands, "it looks like an eye patch!" You fought with Nancy over it, citing that your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you wearing it. In the end, Nancy bought it for you, told you that you should save it for "knocking boys dead in college." At the time, you agreed with her. Looking back, it was a put down.

Nancy was an expert at the accidental back handed compliment.

Holding the suit in your hands, your senior body much more equipped for the top than your 10th grade self, a sly smirk etched its way on to your lips. You were going to knock the boys dead, after all.

You had arranged with Eddie that he would pick you up the next night at 7:30, parked down the street near the pay phone. The Munson boy called you at 7:25, letting you know he was on the corner of your cul-de-sac, ready to roll. When you walked to his car, Eddie rolled down the passenger side window with a slack jaw. He looked you up and down without shame, eyes wide. You were wearing a pair of denim shorts, the red bikini top and a denim jacket.

"How much for a ride around the block, sweetheart?" he smiled wolfishly, fishing his wallet out of his jeans.

You smacked his shoulder as you buckled your seatbelt, though you knew he was being tame. "Careful , Munson, before my mother hears you from the house." Eddie let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Oh, I think we both know you can drop the innocent act, sweetheart. Let's not forget I've seen you dance on bars after some Special K." He started the engine, music blaring through the speakers. Turning the corner of your street, he looked at you. "You're not fooling anyone."

You hoped you would fool some people, as the ride to Steve's house seemed impossibly shorter than the week prior. You gripped the seat next to you as Eddie found a spot on the street to park. You felt worse than last Saturday, entirely out of your depth and swallowed by nerves. Eddie cut the engine, a worried knit in his brow. "You good?" he asked, waving a hand in front of your eyes.

"Eds," you said, worried waver in your voice. "What...have you got on you now?" You said, eyes speaking the words the nausea prevented you from saying. "I think I need a boost."

The crinkle between his brows deepened. In the years that Eddie had known you - both loner and in your party days- you had never asked him for supplies before a party. There was a small, but concerned, frown on his face. "What's going on man?", he asked, turning completely toward you, "you freaked or something?"

You wracked your brain for any excuse other than the obvious. You'd known Eddie a long time. If anyone was going to let you spew your guts, without judgement, it was Eddie Munson.

"Listen," you started, " I did something really stupid at that party last week. Like, catastrophically stupid." When Eddie stayed silent, you went on. "I'm going to tell you something, and you have to swear you won't tell anyone."

"Who am I gonna tell?" He laughed, cutting himself short when you face hardened. "Okay," he said, "I swear. Girl's Scouts honour."

You told him everything. From the interaction with Carol and Tommy, to hearing Steve and Nancy break up. You told him about the kiss, the bathroom counter.....the shower. You told him how you'd run the next morning, how you'd been so sick from guilt. You told him every last excruciating detail. Eddie's eyes were wide, in an unreadable mix of shock, confusion and almost pride.

"What....the fuck," he whispered, a teasing smile on his face. "That's intense, and I'm not judging, but," he leaned in close, whispering to you. You leaned in as well. "You let Steve Harrington shoot his load in you?"

The way he said it, unforgiving and entirely true - making you realise just how reckless the entire thing was- made you cringe inward, hiding your face in your hands. "Eddie!"

"Hey, no judgement....," he grimaced a little, another laugh causing him to smile, "except maybe a little judgement here, the dude's a tool!" When you continued to hide your face, Eddie pulled a small bag out of his pocket. "Just a little alright? Lord knows I'd need it if I were you."

That's how you ended up doing a few bumps off a Motley Crue CD in the passenger seat of Eddie's van. You were raring to go, the nausea lurking back into its hiding place as you went through the side gate to Steve Harrington's back yard. You called Chrissy's name from the pool steps when you saw her playing chicken with Jason and a few of the other cheerleaders. The moment Chrissy locked eyes with you across the pool, her own jaw went slack.

"HOLY SHIT."

Her exclamation made almost every head turn your way. You'd taken off the jacket, giving Eddie the job of holding your things - which he begrudgingly excepted-, your red bikini top now on full display. Several eyes on you at once, the buzz of Eddie's special K and the continuous thrum of the music made you feel exceedingly alive. What's more, you felt a certain someone staring daggers into the side of your head, having noticed him in the corner of the pool the very second you stepped foot into his back yard. You kept your eyes forward, looking anywhere but at him.

This was a party.

Chrissy jumped off of Jason's shoulders, sending him flailing back into the water as she swam over to you on the side. Hoisting herself up, she enveloped you in a dripping wet hug. "Just where have they been hiding, huh?" she said, eyes darting to your chest and back again. You laughed at her candour, her inability to hide her every thought. "Don't just stand there, come get a drink! Mind if I steal her, Eddie? Promise I'll give her back." She said with a giggle, swaying your connected hands between the two of you.

"She knows where I'll be," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Come find me if you need me, alright?" He said. You smiled at him, thankful that he had been there for you. You felt tons lighter now that someone else knew your secret.

Chrissy dragged you to the make shift bar on a table by the grass, coolers of beer and the notorious punch bowl calling your names. She grabbed you a glass, giving you a generous ladle full of punch that was so strong it had a resemblance to the smell of paint thinner. "So," she said, getting herself a drink, "what's going on with you and Eddie?" You nearly choked at her words.

"Me and Eddie, no way," you said, turning to look at the boy. He was wearing dark swim trunks and his guitar pic necklace. His chest full of tattoos was on full display, earning him the attention of several girls. "There's nothing going on there." Chrissy was watching you intently, the way your eyes travelled down Eddie's toned chest, lingering on the ink closest to his hip bones, pool lights accentuating their v shape. "No way."

"His eyes are up there, babe." She said, giggling as you turned back to her with a face the same colour as the red solo cup in your hand.

Eddie and you had been friends for too long, seen each other in every awkward phase, to be anything more than close friends. Sure, you both found each other attractive. That much was clear from the occasional oggling you each gave each other. You had even kissed once in 9th grade, the memory of said interaction haunting you both so much that any thought of being anything other than each other's friend sent a ghostly shiver up your spines. You'd been denying dating accusations from your mother and Eddie's Uncle Wayne for years. Uncle Wayne still had his suspicions, citing that no two teenagers needed to spend that much time in Eddie's room with a locked door. He just didn't know you were doing Special K and not each other.

"No way," you said again, taking a large swig of your drink, "way too much history there." Beside you, Chrissy smirked. With a quirked brow, she looked from you to the Munson boy, then back to you.

"Whatever you say," she said , tone full of disbelief. She bumped your shoulder with her own, prodding a teasing finger into your still flushed cheeks. "But I've got a radar for these things."

You held back a laugh, self deprecating and and entirely inappropriate, as you thought of how off Chrissy's radar was last weekend, how you and a certain brown eyed boy had completely forgone her so called sixth sense.

The party was in full swing by the time someone suggested a Keg Stand. You were in the pool with Chrissy and the other cheerleaders, laughing as the boys - including Eddie, which made you smile as he'd never gotten along with Jason and the basket ball players- relentlessly splashed you. All the while, you continued to feel a pair of eyes on the back of your head. You hadn't spared him a glance , enjoying the water and the company and the drinks without the reminder of the pit in your stomach. A circle was gathering round the edges of the pool as Tommy was picking his contenders for the Keg Stand, always too much of a coward to attempt and embarrass himself. "Jason, my man! Come on, show us how its done!"

Jason rolled his eyes at Tommy's antics. "I don't know man, someone's gotta be a designated driver."

"Come on, don't be such a pussy, Jase."

A serge of confidence - maybe down to the heat of the moment, or maybe the two bumps in Eddie's van- made you raise a high hand.

"I'll do it. I'm not driving." You were already hoisting yourself over the edge of the pool as Tommy stuttered over his words, trying to find a reason to say no, or a way to put you down. It was every guys fantasy - a girl in a dripping wet bikini on a keg. You may as well have been the sports illustrated cover you bought the swimsuit from.

"Alright, then. Steve!" Tommy called, and a cold jolt rain through you, "we found you a competitor!"

You felt him stand next to you, felt the heat of his body radiating toward you. You didn't dare look at him. An awkwardness threatened the air, looming. You risked a word.

"May the best man win."

You were hoisted up on to your keg by Jason, the rest of the basketball players gathered round and cheering you on. Steve was thrown on by Tommy, Carol next to him, and a gaggle of girls had come to watch. "Alright, " Tommy began, "two minutes for the whole keg. No breaks. Loser has to leave the party."

"It's my party, dip shit." Steve barked, frustration clear through his gritted teeth.'

"Guess you better win then, Harrington."

Your hands tightened on the side of the keg, knuckles going white with nerves. Tommy counted down from three, blowing a whistle to mark the start of your time. You were never a beer girl, but in the face of loosing to Steve Harrington in front of a crowd of people it could have been mistaken for your favourite drink. You chugged the cheap booze like you were a desert explorer stumbling on an oasis. The cheers of the crowd were silent on deaf ears, your only focus being the tube in your mouth and your grip on the keg. Your eyes were closed, the world drowned out. You were definitely going to puke, and you were definitely going to loose. Your brows scrunched in anger at the thought of the humiliation. Steve Harrington, getting the glory again. It made your eyes burn with the threat of angry, embarrassed tears. It made you question why you'd even agreed to come tonight.

The tug on your legs brought you back to earth, jovial cheers from both Chrissy and basketball teams as they pulled you down before lifting you on to Eddie's shoulders being the first indicators to your short circuiting brain. You'd finished your keg in one minute and thirty two seconds. The pool was alive with celebratory splashing. The crowd around the kegs began chanting your name, following Eddie's lead as he cupped his hands and heckled.

"All hail the new Queen of Hawkins!"

You caught Steve's eye as he glared at the scene unfolding around him. He tossed his cup on the ground - you had to hold back a laugh at his childish antics- as he stormed off, disappearing inside the open door at the edge of the house. A smug grin stretched from one ear to another as Eddie let you down to the ground. "You showed him who's boss, that's for sure," he chuckled, eyes following Steve's retreating figure. "Who knew he was such a sore loser."

"Maybe I should go and talk to him." You said, the beer telling you it was a fantastic idea. The devious smile on Eddie's face told you otherwise. "Oh yeah, because there'd be so much talking going on," he said, making an O shape with his hand before shaking it, "so much to talk about, isn't there."

You nearly ripped his arm off. The look on your face was murderous, and Eddie's laughter only grew louder.

"I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Ouch!", Eddie cried, devilish grin driving you nuts, "Lucky boy!"

You made your way to the kitchen of the Harrington house, which was the last place you saw Steve go. He wasn't there, no body was. The whole lower floor was desolate, every room a ghost town of empty cups and discarded shoes. You braved a peek up the stairs, craning your neck to see if he was lingering on the landing, to no avail. You crept up the stairs, foot steps leaving damp spots on the carpet and creaking on the old wood. Just as the rest of the house was, it was deserted.

All doors were shut tight. Harrington clearly did not want to be found. You would allow him space to wallow in his loss, already missing the glory and attention of the pool. You were reaching for the banister when a warm hand grabbed your shoulder and dragged you back into a linen closet.

With a yank of a light, Steve's face was illuminated. His face was stony, annoyed, eyes dark. It would have been scary, had you not just seen him throw a tantrum like a toddler.

Your hair dripping water on to the floor of the closet was the only sound other than the both of you breathing ragged, laboured breaths. There was a long silence before either one of you spoke.

"You sure have a flare for the dramatic," you said, gesturing to the light and the confines of the closet. "You couldn't fit in the pantry?"

Steve just looked at you, jaw set in a tight line. His eyes, however, darted all over your face; your eyes, lips, nose, cheeks. Bored of his silence, you tried for the door. He stepped in front of you., You got a dreadful sense of deja vu. "Okay, we're not doing this again."

"Hell yes we are," Steve finally said voice gruff. He had a brooding stare in his face, eyes frustrated and a little desperate - fearful. It looked as if he were worried you'd skip out on him again.

You glared up at him, irritated beyond measure.

"I came up here to see if you were okay after your little outburst out there, but you're acting like a real entitled douche here, Harrington." You pushed his shoulder - a little harder than you intended, only meaning to move him. He stumbled back a bit, the stacks of towels on the shelves cushioning his back. "Get out of my way."

He finally stepped to the side.

You were twisting the door knob when he spoke, barely above a whisper and muffled by the sounds of the party. "I cannot, and I mean cannot - as hard as I try- stop thinking about you."

Your head was screaming at you to go. To run down the stairs, say goodbye to Chrissy and find Eddie to drive you home. Every part of you was telling you to go. The door was open a crack, you could hear the voices of people outside more clearly now.

"You're all I can think about," Steve continued.

'Move', you thought. 'Move, god damn it.'

You felt Steve behind you. You could feel the warmth of his skin brushing against yours, feather light in touch, as he stepped closer to you. When you didn't move away, not an inch - part of you electrified at the scene unfolding before you- Steve's arm came over yours, hand resting on top of your own. "Close the door," he said, lips against the shell of year as he spoke. You shivered as his breath tickled your skin. With deliberate slowness, his hand on yours closed the crack in the door, shrouding the space in the warm glow of the singular lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

It was as though your whole body was on fire. Every nerve in your body on full throttle, tingling with anticipation.

"I tried to stop," Steve began, "thinking about you, I mean." His voice was quiet, soft. Ridiculously alluring. "Tried going back to how it was before. Tried to hate you again." He looked down at this feet, as if the words he was so desperately trying to say would be written in the carpet. "But I just couldn't stop thinking about it. Us."

"Steve-"

"Then you show up here with Munson? Of all people, to what, rub it in my face a little? Make me feel worse?" He raised his voice a little, his sudden and overt jealousy making your stomach flip. "Felt like my chest was gonna explode, I was so pissed." He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall. "Munson, of course." He muttered.

"There's nothing going on with Eddie, Steve."

"Oh, spare me," he said, "I saw you two together. The way he touched your shoulder? Earlier, by the pool?"

"Oh god, not my shoulder." You said, voice mocking.

"Come on, I see the way you guys watch each other." Steve argued, arm waving up in annoyance. "He looks at you like you're his girl!"

"And that bothers you because?"

Steve was silent after that, unable to speak the words he really wanted to without sounding like a jealous lunatic.

You took a step closer to him. His eyes met yours, frustrated and wide and even a little tormented. In a strange way, you liked it, that he was so beaten up over you. It made you feel a little better about being so haunted by the encounter, as well. Another part of you was revelling in the knowledge that Steve Harrington was hung up on you, after only one night. With a gentle hand, you grabbed Steve's wrist. "Steve," you said in a low voice, "there's nothing going on between Eddie and I. Okay?"

"How do I know that for sure?" he whispered, insecure.

You lifted his hand, eyes on his, and placed it on your shoulder. When you let go, his hand remained there. "Because," you said, " a shoulder means absolutely nothing."

Steve visibly relaxed, his shoulders became less hunched and he took a big sigh of relief. All the while, his hand remained on your shoulder.

You took another step toward Steve then, brain screaming at you to run, but the fire in your stomach telling you to stay, stay, stay. You leaned up on your tip toes, lips an inch away from his ear. "Besides," you said, "my shoulder is reserved just for you."

Steve sucked in a ragged, deep breath.

"You really shouldn't have said that." His voice was hoarse, gruff. It fanned the flames in your stomach to a blaze.

"And why's that?" you taunted, head cocked to the side as you looked up at Steve. A wicked, wolfish grin had stretched across his lips. He backed you into the wall, almost no space between you as his nose brushed against the shell of your ear. "Because," his lips grazed over your temple, "if you thought before was good," his hand grabbed your chin, making you look him in the eyes. "We're just getting started."

It was as if a switch flipped inside him as Steve crashed his lips to yours. While he was passionate before, now he was animalistic. He was all teeth as he kissed you, nipping your bottom lip in a way that said 'this is something only I get to do', and it made you groan aloud. Your hands crept up to his hair, only for him to grip your wrists and pin them above your head.

"Uh uh," he said, teasing and with entirely too much enjoyment. "Those stay right there."

You panted, out of breath, staring into Steve's lust blown eyes. You were completely shocked by this side of him. It was, quite possibly, the hottest thing you'd ever witnessed. In the brief pause, the quiet catching of breath, Steve's face came closer to yours.

"Is this okay?" He said, concern on his face, realising he may have been too intense. His brows were knit together in a soft V shape. You nodded, slow and sure. You were perfectly content to have Steve do anything he wanted to you. "Yeah, it's okay." You whispered. The teasing smile crept back on to his face. "Alright then."

And then he was kissing your neck, most definitely leaving marks as he sucked and nipped the skin on the hollow of your throat. You bit your lip at the thought of having to hide them, of being marked by him, thankful for the approaching cold season and the invention of turtle necks. One hand on your wrists, Steve's free one crept up your sides and found purchase on your hips, gripping them tightly. "God," he groaned, "do you have any idea," - a particularly hard bite on your collar bone- "how much I've thought about you this week?" His grip on your waist was impossibly tighter in the moment, pulling your hips into his own. Your only response was a breathy moan as he bucked into you.

He loosened the grip he had on your wrists, allowing your arms to slide down the wall and into his hair - he fell apart at the way you touched him, having thought about it all week. "I thought about you," he dropped down to your chest, placing kisses there. "Every," - a kiss to your torso- "single"- one to your stomach- "night." He sank down to his knees, staring up at you with swollen lips and blown out eyes. "It's like I was haunted by you. Couldn't get you out of my head." He kissed his way back up to your lips, his fingers tugging on your bottom lip with a twisted smile. "Thought about you so much, had to throw out your panties."

"You pervert." You said against his mouth, but the thought of Steve, bent over in pleasure, as he jacked off into your panties made you throb.

His hands toyed with the strings on your bikini bottoms, the flimsy material begging to be ripped off. He raised an eyebrow at you - a silent ask- and you nodded hurriedly. He pulled the knot free at an agonizingly slow pace, taunting you as your chest heaved in anticipation. He was torturous. Devilish, even. You loved it. He ripped the other knot open off hastily, making you gasp. Your lower half was completely exposed. "Do you want me?" he asked, and though his voice was hoarse and undeniably confident, his eyes wavered as he looked into your own with the slightest hint of uncertainty. You nodded, breathless and a little desperate. Steve tilted your head with his hand, thumb resting on the column of your throat, mocking smile on his lips. "I'm not touching you 'til you say it."

"Yes, God yes, I want you Steve."

"How much?" He was getting cocky then, and as much as it irritated you, it turned you on immensely. "Tell me how much."

"I thought about you, too," you said, breath hitching as he trailed a finger up and down your leg. "Couldn't help myself." That same wicked smile was on Steve's face as you spoke. "Couldn't get the feeling right again, tried so hard."

"Show me."

When your eyes darted to his, you could hardly see his irises. His eyes were practically black with lust, mouth agape as he took you in. When you didn't move, half embarrassed and half in disbelief, he guided your hand to your centre. "Show me how you touched yourself," he pushed your hand down, thumb swiping your clit. You gasped, desperate for any friction as the ache in your stomach flared. "He placed a kiss right under your belly button, eyes boring into yours. "Show me."

You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your neck and on to your cheeks, thankful for the dim light. You sank you hand down, closing your eyes to save some semblance of your dignity. Steve Had other ideas. "Uh, uh, uh," he said, taunting. "Eyes on me."

You opened your eyes to see a completely, utterly hypnotised Steve. Every twitch, every half-movement was caught by his eager eyes. Knowing that you had so much power over him gave you a power trip, a major boost of confidence. The sight before you - a wild haired, wide eyed, practically drooling Steve Harrington- drove you crazy.

You dropped your hand down your stomach, fingers tracing the skin as they got ever closer to where you needed them most. You thought back to the nights after the party, the way you'd arched your back off your mattress pretending it was Steve's fingers getting you there, that it was Steve making your legs tremble.

You grazed your clit with your index finger, sighing as you made small circles there. You moaned, your pace picking up as you grew more impatient that Steve wasn't the one touching you and more embarrassed as time went on. You rested your head against the wall, gazing at Steve across the small space. He was shifting the front of his swim trunks around, growing impossibly more aroused every second he looked at you. Your chest began to tighten with short breaths as your hand grew quicker, the band in your stomach on the brink of snapping. You were sent over the edge at the sight of Steve palming himself, mouth in a silent 'O' shape as he watched you fall apart. The small closet felt like a sauna as you caught your breath.

"Jesus Christ," Steve said, a hoarse whisper as though his throat was bone dry - which it was. He'd never seen anything so hot in his life. "Get over here."

You launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck as his own caught your waist. Your lips met in a brawl of need, smothering yourselves in one another. Steve gripped your face with a strong hand, guiding your chin so that his tongue could slip into your mouth with ease. He backed you against the wall, hands roaming all over your skin. You may as well have been on another planet, the raging party below having no influence on either one you letting out loud moans and groans. You felt on fire, sure that if you opened your eyes and looked down your body would be a scorched mess. Your core ached, desperate for any friction as Steve's clothed front rubbed against your centre.

"Steve," you whined against his lips, loud and high pitched. He was pressing into you now, and you felt you were going to go crazy if you weren't thrown on a bed in that very second. "Let's go somewhere else." When he pulled away to look at you, he quirked a brow cheekily.

"Aye aye, Captain."

Stuffing your bottoms in his pocket, Steve cracked the door ajar and peaked out. The coast was clear. He threw you - naked from the chest down- over his shoulder, and ran to the bedroom closest to the closet. It was his own, thank god. The door closed with a slam, and then you were against it, head cushioned by the coats and towels hanging from the hook.

"If you don't do something in the next thirty seconds," you said, voice desperate as Steve kissed your neck whilst his hands trailed up and down your bare back - fingers fiddling with the draw string of your bikini-, "I'm outta here, Harrington."

"Oh yeah," Steve challenged smugly, "to do what?"

You felt like pushing his buttons, testing him. His dominance displayed in the closet made you unbelievably wet, and you were hoping it was going to reappear. "Well," you began, voice full of mock innocence, "not what, rather who." Steve's arm tensed up around your body. His head whipped toward you, eyes darkening with lust and annoyance. "Who knows, maybe Eddie can help me out-"

You didn't even have to finish your sentence before Steve was scooping you up in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around your middle as you both crashed on to the mattress. He was hovering above you with the most addictive expression on his face - a look that said "I need you, I crave you,"- and you wished that every time you closed your eyes you would see that look. Steve ripped off his shorts in a flash, stroking himself as he leaned down to you.

"You think it's funny, huh? To tease?" he said, voice wracked with desire as he watched you. You'd begun to slowly peel off your bikini top. He pulled the strap back and let it snap against your skin, grinning when you yelped. "You're in for it, babe."

The nickname had your stomach swirling with arousal, and you were sure you were leaking on to Steve's sheets from how turned on you were. He made his way between you, knee up against your clit as he ground in to you. When you bit your lip, he smiled. He sat up on his knees, stroking himself as he looked down at you. A rosy glow had donned your cheeks, both from the heat of the room and the heat of having a very attractive man tease himself in front of you. A sheen had begun to cling to your hair line. You looked entirely wrecked, and Steve had hardly touched you. His stomach flipped at the sight. He pushed your legs apart with his knee, pressing the head of his cock through your folds , delighting in the whiny pleas you let out.

"Say something for me," Steve asked, hissing as his head brushed your clit as he bucked into you.

"Anything, god, please, Steve." You would recite a whole Shakespeare play in that moment if it meant that he would fuck you. "Anything."

"Say you forgive me."

You suddenly weren't miles away. You were now hyper aware that you were in Steve's bed, in Steve's house, with Steve. Steve, who had ruined your life for so many years. Steve, who had stood by people and watched as they hurt you. Steve, who had taken your best friend from you. Steve, who had bared a piece of himself to you. Steve, who had wanted you. Steve, who had shown you who he really was. Steve, who you also desperately wanted, despite your complicated feelings about the past you both shared. The room was silent for a nano-second, before you grabbed his face in your hands.

"I forgive you."

In the midst of a very heated moment, Steve leaned down and pressed a very gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you" he said.

Then he pushed into you, all the way, without warning and your choked moans filled the room. The stretch, while slightly painful, was glorious. Steve filled you up entirely, and you felt as though you were being split open while simultaneously feeling whole. With both hands beside you head as he hovered over you, Steve panted ragged breaths. "Oh my god, you feel amazing," he groaned. His face contorted in pleasure as you clenched around him. "God, can I move? Please, baby, can I?"

"Yes, god, move." Was all you could stutter out before Steve was rocking into you , pace wild and hard. The head board of his bed clanged against the wall, and you were thankful for the thrum of music outside. You held back screams as Steve hit that spot inside you with every single thrust.

Your legs felt like jelly as Steve grabbed your thighs, pulling himself into you with vigour. "Fuck," he moaned, unapologetically loud and undeniably hot, "fuck, I'm not gonna last long." You hands were gripping the sheets, hardly aware that he was talking as his stomach grazed your clit with every movement.

"Let me on top then," you said, and Steve wasn't a religious man, but he swore that was the moment he died and went to heaven. Steve flipped the two of you over, his back against the head board with your chest in his face. 'Heaven,' he thought as you swung your legs over his and grabbed him in your hands, sinking down on until he was all the way inside of you. "Oh my god." You said breathlessly, the feeling entirely different and absolutely better than before.

You used Steve's shoulder for leverage as you moved up and down on him, whining out high pitched moans as he thrusted up to meet you, gripping your hips tightly. You felt the coil building in your stomach. You looked down at Steve, his eyes drawn to where your bodies connected. "That's the hottest thing I've ever fucking seen," he said, eyes dilated and face red. He was right, it was unusually hypnotic to watch as your aching centre swallowed Steve's cock with every movement.

Steve's brows were knit together, determined to last but the reality that the two of you were going to come undone was fast approaching. "I wanna fill you up, wanna see my cum drip out of you. Can I cum inside you, baby?" he panted into your hair, pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your torso as he sat up, thrusting even harder up into you.

"Yes, yes yes, please Steve," you cried as his fingers crept down and began fast, tight circles on your clit. "Cum inside me, fill me up, god, please please please."

Steve let go the second you did, one final - particularly deep- thrust sending you over the edge and into Steve's chest. You felt as hot ropes of his cum shot deep into you, felt as it began to drip out o you and down your thighs. You panted into Steve's ear, chest heaving as you both came down from your highs. His hand, still between your legs, swiped up your centre, gathering the mixture of your arousals. He ran the same finger across your lips. "Open, " he said, grinning wickedly as you sucked his finger clean. "Dirty, dirty girl."

You hopped off of Steve, legs numb as you collapsed next to him on the bed. You didn't bother to cover up, the two of you no longer shy. There was a brief pause, and you felt like the prickly stickiness of sweat- and other things- on your skin. You mustered the strength to stand, stretching as you did, and made you way to the bathroom connected to Steve's. When Steve remained in bed, you turned over your shoulder as you stood in the door way. "You coming?"

Steve moved faster than you'd ever seen, practically tripping over himself, to meet you in the bathroom. Gazing at the shower, you opted to run the taps of the bath instead. The room quickly filled with steam, the mirrors fogging up. Once the tub was full, you hopped in and sat down, sighing as the warm water covered your sore legs. Steve sank down behind you, legs coming to rest beside your own, and you didn't move when his arms wrapped round your waist. Instead, you leaned back and rested your head on his shoulder.

Steve's hands ran soap up and down your arms gently, rinsing and repeating with mindless softness. he just wanted the excuse to hold you longer, feel you against him more. When his hand came down your arm again, you caught it. You fiddled with his fingers, a shyness washing over you slightly. Steve just intertwined your hands, and continued to rinse the soap off of your skin.

"What is this now?"

Steve's question hung in the warm air like the steam clung to the mirror glass. It was like you could see it in front of you, floating in a taunting cloud. It was the thing neither one of you wanted to ask, perfectly content to stay in the bath and ignore every nagging though that urged both of you to ask the other 'do you want me outside of these walls?'

You sucked in a deep breath, turning to look at Steve from where your head rested on his shoulder. "I don't know." You admitted. You didn't want to say the wrong thing and ruin the moment. "We can talk about that, though."

Steve smiled gently, resting his head on top of yours. "What do you want it to be?" He asked softly, your hand still in his.

"Is this your very long winded way of asking to be fuck buddies?"

"No," Steve chuckled to himself, "no, it's not." He sat up slightly, facing you more. "I'm saying that," he paused, struggling for the right words. "I know how I felt when I thought you and Munson were, whatever I thought you were." He said, eyes soft as he looked at you. "I know how much I missed you being round after you left."

You dropped your gaze , ashamed of your behaviour. Steve's hand moved your chin to meet his eye again, smiling that stupidly attractive smile. "I know I want you."

"I want you too, Steve." You said, almost sadly.

"Then we have something in common," he smiled again, and you rolled your eyes at him. "We can start there, and see where we go."

You didn't talk about what people might say, how you'd probably have to hide in his room or yours, secluding yourselves in VHS tapes in living rooms and candle lit dinners in kitchens. You didn't talk about how hard it would be, to keep the secret, to not talk about one another for a while. You didn't mind though. The two of you enjoyed the idea of the coming winter, the cover of darkness that meant you could walk to one another. The image of you huddled in one of Steve's sweaters as the first snow fell flashed through Steve's mind, and he felt his heart thud in his chest as he looked at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you imagined Steve beside you on the tiny couch in your living room, fighting over the last slice of pizza as the credits rolled on a cheesy movie he'd rented. You revelled in the thought of getting to know Steve, not the King of Hawkins High, just Steve. And the thought of him knowing you as you were now, the matured and hardened version of you, made you stomach do flips as you looked at him.

"We'll see where we go." You agreed.

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

PEOPLE THAT ASKED TO BE TAGGED:

@urs-angel @averagemisfit03 @somemydayy @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @alana4610 @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @etherealforever234 @princessnancy @b3autyfuldisast3r @crumbssss @hellfiremunsonn <333

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut' #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things au #stranger things 4 #enemies to lovers #bully romance #slowburn #fluff #smut #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrigton fanfic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve x nancy #chrissy cunningham #this is so dirty #joseph quinn #joe keery #eddie munson fics #call it what you want

[anotherstagvixen]

Everyone wins

#cucklife #cuckhubby #slutlife #slutty wife #wife fantasy #sharing wife #vixen wife #bully romance #hotwives

[erasurecloud]

If you read a bully romance and then get mad at him for bullying her I have one question for you. Why.

#im just very confused #especially after everything he did for her #and his reasoning #like #chill #booktok #booklr #bully romance #not MHA #kindle paperwhite #nellys kindle stuff

[pplivros]

BAD PRINCE - ZOE X

Scarlet Wright não tem mais dúvidas sobre o quão solitário alguém pode ser, nem quanto de ódio pode carregar em cada célula. Seu corpo vibra, se alimenta e vive cada segundo dos seus dias na base do mais puro ódio e da mágoa mais profunda. Ela odeia Conrad Prince, e se odeia ainda mais por não conseguir expulsá-lo de seu sistema, mesmo depois de tanto tempo. Na adolescência, ele foi sua maior cobiça, agora, quase adulta, ela acredita fielmente que ele foi o maior e mais maldito erro do percurso. Conrad sabe que errou, mas não como toda a cidade pensa. Para ele, só sobrou sua própria consciência queimando dia após dia, depois de toda a merda do passado, e a culpa se transformou no mais puro ressentimento quando ele entendeu que ela queria apagá-lo. Agora, anos depois, ele está de volta, e fará questão de dar a cada uma das pessoas um real motivo para odiá-lo. Ele não está para brincadeira, mas ela não é mais uma garotinha inocente. Eles se odeiam. Eles estão quebrados. E está na hora do confronto.

BAD PRINCE

Quando fizer o download de algum livro, deixa uma reposta para outras pessoas baixarem também.

Beijinhos e aproveitem ! <3

#dark romance #book #pdf #bully romance #baixar em pdf

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒍𝒇𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 (𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝑙𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑖𝑟 #3.5) 👑🔪🐍

✍🏽: 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

Get the book!🌟

#how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #holly black #the folk of air #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #cardan x jude #jude x cardan #jurdan #the cruel prince #tcp #fantasy #fantasy romance #high king of elfhame #high queen of elfhame #wicked king #bully romance #dark fantasy #dark fairytale #young adult #books recommendations #books #books recs #libros #libros recomendados #frase libro #book couples #couple aesthetic #new books #enemies to lovers #forced proximity

[rosiesfables]

Smuttok throwback to #denofvipers by KA knight. I don’t recommend this book tbh (too dark for my liking and probably most people) but the book had people going ferallll mid pandemic. Anyway, had some fun with redesigning her.

Have you read this book? if so, you might be entitled to financial compensation /joking

Honestly, Roxy can get it.

#dark romance #den of vipers #kaknight #mafia romance #bully romance #smut books #smuttok #bookish #booklr #procreate #character illustration #book fanart #indie author #kindleunlimited