#ic: alfredo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

hello, hello! can i ask for an au of emt!marauders? she had a minor accident maybe in her work or college and they got called in without knowing that it was her? (shes their gf) 💘

How could I refuse??

cw: minor head injury, the teeniest tiniest hint of a praise kink

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re sitting on the curb holding a bag of ice to your head when the ambulance cuts its sirens, coming to a stop. The door opens and boots hit the pavement in front of you.

“Dollface?”

You blink up into the sun. “Sirius?”

He crouches by your knees, worry making itself at home in the crease between his brows. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think it’d be you,” you say dumbly.

“Are you hurt?” James comes bounding around the other side of the ambulance, Remus not far behind him. You can’t say you’re not happy to see them, but you sort of wish your reunion could have waited until your date tomorrow night, when you would almost surely not have been in your work uniform and covered in pasta sauce. “Are we here for you?”

“Technically,” you reply, somewhat bitterly. James squats beside Sirius, mouth pulling to one side. “I fainted a little bit, and my boss said he had to call an ambulance. Just so I can’t sue the restaurant, I guess. I’m totally fine.”

“They called us and then made you sit on the curb?” Sirius asks angrily while James says, “How does one faint only a little bit?”

“They didn’t want you guys scaring the customers.” You choose to answer only Sirius’ question, shrugging. His eyes flare, and he looks towards the restaurant like he’s thinking about going inside to have some words with your manager, but Remus passes a conciliatory hand over his shoulder as he sits beside you on the curb.

“What’s this for, love?” he asks you, covering your hand where it holds the bag of ice.

You must look as sheepish as you feel, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I guess I hit my head a bit when I fell.”

“So,” he says dryly, “not totally fine, then.”

“I mean, I don’t think I hit it very hard,” you try, but Remus is already removing your makeshift ice pack, tilting your head so he can see the forming bump on the side.

“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” James suggests, giving your knee a teasing squeeze as Sirius moves beside Remus to jockey for a view of your head, “just so we have all the facts.”

“I was carrying a tray to my table,” you explain, wincing as Remus passes a thumb over your wound with a murmured apology, “and I started to feel weird, like wobbly and out of it. I thought it might pass, but—” Sirius sends you a horrified look and your voice quiets, chastened. “I know I probably should have sat down or something, but I was working, you know? Anyway, then I guess I fell and smacked my head on the floor. When I woke up, the food was everywhere,” you recall with a sigh. Your coworkers are going to be less than pleased with you for leaving them that mess to clean up.

“Is that what this is?” James asks, mouth tilting upward as he looks at the mess of your uniform.

You nod solemnly. “Alfredo sauce.”

“Did you land on any glass or anything?” Sirius asks you. He and Remus have evidently finished with their inspection of your head, though Remus’ hand still cups the back of your neck protectively.

“No, all the plates that ended up breaking went the other way.”

“You thinking concussion?” James asks him.

“No,” you say, at the same time as Sirius says, “Maybe.”

Sirius fixes you with an odd look, half remonstrance and half endearment. “Sorry, doll, but you’re not exactly an expert. You very stubbornly did your job when you should have looked after yourself” —he squints his eyes at you playfully, giving your shoulder a mean squeeze— “now let us do ours for a bit, yeah?”

You purse your lips in malcontent, but James is already clicking on his pen light, shining it in your eyes. “Look straight ahead for me, angel?”

“S’not a big deal,” you mutter one last time in quiet mutiny, doing as he says. All three boys ignore you.

James clicks the light off. “Alright, do you know the date?”

“No.”

“How about the year?” he asks patiently. You tell him, and he goes on to ask you the month and the day of the week.

“Good.” He rewards you with a smile when you answer correctly. “Okay, do you feel nauseous or dizzy at all, darling?”

When he looks at you like that? A little, but that’s probably unrelated. “No,” you tell him.

“Headache?” Remus asks you.

“I mean, only here.” You lay your palm over the bump to indicate it, but wince when it hurts worse than you expected. Sirius coos, taking your hand in his to prevent you doing yourself further harm. “Not on, like, the inside.”

“Okay, that’s what I meant,” Remus reassures you. “What about why you fainted, love? Do you have any idea what happened?”

You bite the inside of your lip, thinking. “Not really.” Your head had just hurt a bit, then you’d felt woozy, and then you’d fallen and it had hurt a lot worse.

“Did you have lunch before you came to work?” James prompts.

You nod.

“What did you have?”

You tell him. He seems tentatively satisfied.

“And for breakfast? What about for dinner last night?”

You think back, telling him what you can remember, and he nods, looking somewhat bemused.

“Did you have a drink with any of that?” Remus asks.

You think harder. Had you? The realization must show on your face, because Sirius tuts.

“There it is,” he says knowingly. “When was the last time you had water, doll?”

“I…I don’t remember. I had coffee yesterday—”

They all groan. James starts laughing soon after, patting you on the thigh at your timid expression.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just drink plenty of water and then go home to rest, alright? You might feel shaky for a bit, so don’t get in your car to drive until you’re feeling better. Rem, do we have some water bottles in the van?”

“Yeah.” Remus stands, palm landing affectionately on your head as he passes behind you to climb into the back of the ambulance.

“Don’t worry,” you tell James, exhaustion seeping into your voice, “I won’t be driving for a while yet. My shift doesn’t end until six.”

Contrary to your intentions, some of the relief saps from James’ countenance. “You’re still planning on working?”

Uh, duh. Does he think your rent is going to pay itself? “I mean,” you say, trying to appear somewhat patient, “yeah.”

“Well, go ahead and get that out of your head right now,” Sirius nearly laughs. “There’s no way that’s happening today, sweetness.”

“What’s not happening?” Remus asks, uncapping a water bottle before passing it to you.

“She thinks she’s going back to work,” Sirius says wryly.

Remus looks at you, appalled. You only shrug, sipping at your water.

“You can’t work after a fainting spell like that. Especially not as dehydrated as you are—your body needs rest.” He shakes his head at you. “You can either get it at home or come with us to the hospital.”

You roll your eyes, re-capping the half-drained water bottle. “That’s so dramatic.”

“No, I’m the dramatic,” Sirius corrects you. “Remus is the reasonable one, which is how you know he’s right. Those are your options, dollface.”

You huff. “Fine, then can one of you go tell my manager that? I don’t want to be blamed for skipping the rest of my shift.”

“You’re not skipping anything,” Sirius says, standing. “I’ll go, I’ve got some things to say to him anyway.” He cracks his knuckles, and you look to James in alarm.

He leaps up, catching up to Sirius in a few long strides and nudging him back towards you. “I’ve got it, Pads. Why don’t you make sure she finishes that water bottle?”

“Fine.” Sirius stomps his way back to you. “But make him answer for sending her outside to sit on the curb.”

“Please don’t!” you call after James.

Sirius’ gaze narrows, flicking between you and the water bottle beside you expectantly. “Drink.”

“Fine, sheesh.” You pick it up and twist off the cap. Remus chuckles, picking up your half-melted bag of ice to hold it against your head for you. “Isn’t it, like, your job to be nice to people when they’re injured?”

“I thought you weren’t injured?” Remus hums. You shoot him a look that’s meant to be intimidating, but his lips twitch upwards. “Relax, love, we’re just worried about you.”

Well, it’s hard to be mad at that. “Thanks,” you say quietly.

Sirius resumes his crouch in front of you, taking one of your knees in each hand and squeezing lightly. “We get off in a few hours,” he says. “Would it be okay if we came by for dinner? We can bring takeout or something.”

You lower the water bottle, looking at him with interest. Your day has suddenly taken a positive turn. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Now be a good girl and finish your water.”

You flush instantly, and Remus’ head swivels as if to make sure no one is nearby to have heard him. “Sirius,” you hiss, “I’m at work!”

His grin sharpens. “Not anymore, you’re not.”

1K notes · View notes

mars-ipan · 2 years

Text

i ate the bread (slowly)

#jealous of my brother he managed alfredo #but my right side is still kinda swollen so #don’t wanna risk it #i’m icing my cheek rn #hopefully that helps

0 notes

pascalpvnk · 4 months

Text

first few dates

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!afab!reader

summary: a late night grocery trip isn’t usually that exciting, unless you crush a carton of eggs on the cutest man in the store…

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, strangers to lovers, swearing, location and ages not specified (imo joel is in his 30s renaissance era), no mention of sarah, sex on first date, insecurity, food & alcohol consumption, reader makes chicken alfredo (so sorry to my restrictive diet baddies, it’s one of the only things I can cook 😞), smut x2 (dubcon due to alcohol consumption but consensual, truck sex, fingering, dirty talk, size kink if you squint, handsy joel, unprotected p in v sex, cream pie)/(reader wears lingerie and a dress, body worship, oral (f receiving), one spank, thigh and butt biting & marks, joel “claiming” reader, allusions to more sex after scene), no use of y/n, half self beta’d, half by @mrsswilliams (thank you pookie ily)

a/n: this is a very self indulgent piece so take it with a grain of salt. don’t perceive the date part please 😭. i hope you enjoy! dividers by @saradika-graphics

masterlist

Fluorescent lights beat against your corneas in the somewhat vacant corner shop. The occasional scanner beep sounded from across the store. You scoured the aisles, ticking off items from your list left and right. The time was flying as your cart piled up and you made record time while shopping.

You picked up a half dozen eggs, opening them to make sure none of them were broken or cracked. Upon the first look, they seemed perfectly fine. You inspected each one individually as you made your way back to your cart.

You weren’t expecting him at all when you ventured out into the night for a procrastinated grocery trip.

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed as you bumped into something solid, causing clattering chaos. “Shit, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You looked up at what, or rather who, you bumped into. You were met with a shocked man, his puppy brown eyes melting the thick ice protecting your heart. His hand was light on your forearm, steadying yours and his balance. He wasn’t quite able to stop himself from knocking over a bin of DVDs on display.

Your eyes landed on the huge egg yolk stain on his shirt, the eggs that missed splattered on the ground. Of course he was wearing a light colored shirt, just your luck.

Regret showered over you. Not only did you disturb this beautiful stranger, you left a giant stain on his once clean shirt and knocked over a display all over the place.

“You a’right?” He simply asked, knocking the breath out of your lungs with two words. The deep timbre and twang of his voice sent your head in a spiral.

“I’m fine, I’m so sorry,” you repeated, picking up the mess of movies you made. “I should’ve been paying attention.”

“S’alright, accidents happen,” he chuckled, helping you with said mess. Fuck, his eyes were pretty. The corners crinkled with his laughter and the deep chocolate hue his irises held. Everything about him looked so good. And he was unconditionally kind?

You couldn’t feel more embarrassed.

Once everything was picked up and replaced as it was before, he offered you another friendly smile as well as his hand.

“Joel,” he grinned, his hand enveloping yours in a warm handshake. You offered the same sentiment of your name, holding onto his hand for a little too long.

“Well Joel, once again I’m very sorry. I wish I could make it up to you…I kinda ruined your shirt,” you fully cringed at the mess on his light colored Henley…which accentuated his muscles deliciously…but that wasn’t the point.

“I have plenty of stained shirts, darlin’, no need to sweat it. But hey, maybe you could buy me a beer sometime,” he suggested, a bashful expression on his face. A blush bloomed across the apples of his cheeks and on his neck before disappearing down his collar.

Eyes. He can see where your eyes are staring, you reminded yourself.

“Absolutely,” you smiled softly. You swear you saw a twinkle in his eye as his face lit up. “I can’t tonight…but I can give you my number and we can figure something out.”

After exchanging numbers, you parted ways from Joel with a stupid grin on your face. You turned back for a moment to see him, catching his gaze as he was doing the same.

Fuck the dating apps, fuck the set ups. This was your moment, and you were going to take it by the reins and ride off into the sunset.

You almost talked yourself out of it. The day after you bumped into and made a fool of yourself to Joel, he texted you and asked to make plans for Friday. He initiated it. It was so refreshing to be asked out instead of doing the asking for once.

You arrived about ten minutes early, scoping out the pub from your car. It was only seven o’clock, but the sky was pitch black, a couple stars illuminating through the atmosphere. Clouds rolled across the sky, an impending snow storm creeping over you.

A small pickup rolled across the parking lot, stopping in a spot away from the entrance. Right on time. His mop of dark curls appeared first, then his broad shoulders which were impossibly broader with his winter coat. The sound of your car door closing had his head whipping around, a goofy smile plastered on his lips as he made his way over to you with his hands in his pockets.

“Evenin’,” the southern man grinned. “Hope you weren’t waitin’ here too long.”

Joel greeted you with a welcoming hug, warmth radiating from him even through the bitter cold of the evening. His skin emanated a freshly showered scent, accentuated by the woody aroma of his cologne. It wasn’t overpowering or headache inducing, just perfect.

He led you two inside the bar with a timid hand on the small of your back and a lopsided grin. Was he nervous too?

“Hey, Miller!” The bartender announced happily as you stepped into the inviting environment. The man caught your eye and gave a small wave, welcoming you two into his tavern.

“How’s it going, Rob?” Joel beamed. “We’re gon’ do two beers. My usual and….”

“I’ll do a Blue Moon,” you stated, smiling politely at the bartender.

You turned towards the card reader, but Joel slipped his card to Rob to start a tab before you even had a chance to reach for yours.

“Hey!” You laughed, swatting his arm playfully. “It was supposed to be on me for ruining your shirt.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I can’t let a beautiful lady pay on a first date,” he crooned, removing his debit card as it prompted him. “That is…if this is a date.”

Oh that cheeky bastard.

“Yes,” you smiled bashfully, thanking the bartender as he passed over your beverages.

Joel led you to a booth towards the back of the bar and took a seat across from you. It was very evident that both of you were nervous.

“So,” he started, trailing off of the word and tapping his fingers on the table. God, small talk is the worst.

“I gotta admit, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out so I’m a little rusty,” Joel chuckled, taking a sip from his glass.

“S’okay, we can figure it out together, huh?” You offered a sweet smile, wanting to break the tension. “Hmm…what’s your favorite movie, and do you think you could star in it?”

Joel huffed a chuckle, tilting his head in thought.

“Curtis and Viper 2,” he smiled. “But I probably couldn’t star in it. M’not badass like those guys. My only skills are hammerin’ ‘n drinkin’.”

“Aw come on, don’t sell yourself short,” you chuckled. “What do you like to do besides hammering and drinking?”

A couple rounds later, you and Joel were giggling with one another and bumping your shoes under the table. You felt like a bubbly teen again with him, he was already bringing out the best in you. But along with feeling like a bubbly teenager, you also felt like a horny teenager.

His hands were the main culprit, engulfing his beer bottle like it was a baby bottle. His thick digits tapped the table, scratched his beard, mussed up his hair. After the third drink, you couldn’t even pretend you weren’t staring.

“Where’d ya go, hm?” He spoke softly, his amber eyes twinkling under the lowlight above the booth. His skin was flushed from the alcohol.

“Sorry,” you snickered, looking out the window. “Do you wanna get out of here? It just started snowing.”

Joel turned toward the window, watching the flakes fall from the sky for a moment. He sighed slightly, but you didn’t miss it. You didn’t want this to end either.

He collected the empty bottles and brought them to the bar and closed out, leaving a few bills in the tip jar. The staff waved you both goodnight as Joel slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

Snowflakes fluttered from the sky, the beginnings of frost coating the vehicles. Your hand was stolen from your side, fingers interlocking with Joel’s as he walked you through the lot.

“You okay to drive?” Concerned laced his brows. You could write an essay about how much of a gentleman he had been.

“Yeah…but I don’t wanna go yet,” you admitted coyly, stepping in front of him and grabbing his other hand as well. A smirk grew across his lips as you dragged him past your car.

“Where d’ya wanna go, darlin’?”

“Anywhere…or nowhere. As long as you’re there.”

A glint of mischief shined in his eyes as you approached his truck. He slid his hands in your back pockets and pulled you closer to him.

“Sounds like a bargain to me, baby,” he bit his bottom lip, a smirk playing across it as his cheeks flushed a rosy hue. The fresh snow in his hair created a pretty halo effect, making him look even more beautiful than before.

Your lips locked in what had started as a gentle, warm kiss that quickly turned passionate and hot. Sparks were flying and teeth were clashing. Joel had you pinned to his truck with his thigh slotted between your legs, hands making themselves at home as he explored over your clothes. A groan emitted from his chest as your hips ground down on his leg and fingers tangled in his curly locks.

He reluctantly peeled his lips and hands away to dig his keys out of his front pocket. Your lips landed on his neck as he fumbled with his key trying to get it in the lock. Once he succeeded, he opened the driver’s door and folded his seat forward. Before you knew it, you were in his cramped backseat with him as he made quick work of all of the layers you were wearing.

Clothes were thrown anywhere away from you, lips attacking one another hungrily until you were both stripped of everything but your undergarments. His big, rough hands palmed against you, your tits, waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere his heart, or rather his cock, desired.

“Fuck wait,” he panted, putting his slightly trembling hands on either side of your face to catch your attention. Your wide, doe eyed expression caused his cock to twitch against your covered cunt. “I don’t have a condom, we-”

“I don’t care,” you sighed, pushing past his barrier to kiss him once more. “I need you.”

A curse and the lord’s name in vain slipped through his swollen pout. He adjusted himself under you as he sat with his back to the door and his legs spread down the expanse of the backseat.

“Wan’ these pretty tits in my mouth while you ride me, pretty girl,” he grumbled, kneading your ass under his giant palms. A pathetic whine escaped you as he used it as leverage to grind your pussy over his lap, your arousal seeping through your panties and spreading over the fabric of his boxers. His hand wrapped under your ass and slipped under your cotton underwear before sliding easily through your soaked folds to your clit. The calluses on his fingertips created a titillating friction.

“So fucking wet for me, darlin’,” he slurred. “Pussy’s begging to be filled, hm? Sure you can take it, beautiful?”

You nodded frantically as your hot breath fanned over his face. The window behind Joel’s head began to fog over as you panted near the glass.

Hooking his fingers around the fabric, Joel pulled your panties to the side. The winter air pierced your skin, drawing your attention to how much arousal was dripping from you. No man had pulled that much from you, let alone before he even touched your pussy.

His pointer finger prodded at your entrance as your body slowly welcomed him in. In comparison to your fingers, his were much larger and thicker, slowly stretching you out with each pump.

“Christ, you’re so tight ‘round my fingers, baby. Gonna feel so good on my cock,” he rasped as he added a second finger to the mix. You were tumbling towards your high the moment his thumb found your clit, a string of profanities and ‘pleases’ pouring from you between moans.

“C’mon, come for me,” he grunted. “Take whatcha want.”

His other hand unclipped your bra quickly before he palmed your breast and pinched your peaked nipple between his fingertips. Your head fell back with pleasure, the crown of it brushing against the roof of his truck. Moans and whines poured from you as he worked you over the edge expertly, like he’d known you for years.

Folding forwards, your sweat slick forehead landed on the cool window beside his head. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, pulling them in deeper as your orgasm convulsed your body.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love that,” he grumbled into your ear, extending your pleasure with his voice alone. “I’m not done with ya, gorgeous.”

He made quick work of his briefs, exposing his thick shaft. You couldn’t help but gawk at it as you sat against his thighs, resting it on your stomach. It reached up past your belly button. It certainly was proportionate to the rest of him, simply big.

“Still think you can take it, sweet thing?” He purred, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “We can stop.”

Your hand wrapped around his length, pumping it slowly and spreading his precum over the tip.

“I wanna try,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his. His uneven breaths hit your face, Joel encouraging you to continue with a nod.

“You’re so perfect,” he mumbled, tilting his head up and bumping his nose against yours. His lips met your parted pair with a content hum as you continued stroking him languidly.

“Spit on my cock, baby. Get it nice and ready for you,” he mused, pushing his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. Saliva pooled to the front of your mouth. You pursed your lips and let it fall right onto the tip, spreading it down with your palm. His head fell back, thunking the window slightly with a ‘fuck me’.

He placed his right hand on your hip, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. The exchange should’ve been awkward in the cramped space, but it felt perfect as he swiped the tip through your slick folds. It nudged your entrance, breaching the hole slowly as he let you take the lead. He supported your shaking legs solely with his arm strength, allowing you to ease down slowly. The stretch was a mix of pain and pleasure, enough for you to see stars.

“God, baby,” he panted, snapping you back to reality. “Takin’ my cock so well. Feels so good ‘round me.”

You finally were able to get fully settled down on his lap. His hands roamed once more, setting your skin ablaze as his palms skated on their path. The sensation caused your cunt to flutter around him, squeezing him tight. A groan escaped his throat into your collarbone.

“Can’t fuck you properly if you do that. Gon’ come like a damn teenager,” he huffed with a smile. He kissed you feverishly, gripping your ass as leverage so he could guide you. He pushed and pulled your body against his, back and forth, back and forth.

Your hands found purchase on his chest, hairs sparsely scattered on the taut skin. You dragged them down his torso with your nails delicately scraping him.

“Christ,” he hummed against your mouth. “Where’ve you been my whole life? So fuckin’ pretty…perfect f’me.”

He shifted the two of you further into the seat, granting you more room to lean down on him. Your hips rose and fell steadily against his, the drag of his heavy cock stimulating spots you didn’t know you had. Each time he bottomed out in you, your clit ground against the patch of curls right on his pubic bone. It was a beautiful dance, as if you’d been lovers in a previous life. His body melded so perfectly with yours, meeting your hips perfectly, holding you perfectly, touching and kissing you oh so perfectly.

“Lean forward, baby,” Joel panted as he wedged his hands under your thighs. He almost slipped from the warmth of your pussy, but he stopped you right where he wanted you. You buried your face into his shoulder as he buried into your chest, flicking his tongue against the peaked bud of your nipple.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, letting his lips wrap around the sensitive flesh.

Joel’s thighs tensed as he planted his feet firmly on the seat. His hips pushed up into yours carefully, your hot breath directly fogging the window. Your back arched, head hitting the ceiling and chest right in Joel’s face. His tongue poked out to wet his lips, his jet black irises staring straight at your tits.

Your hand shot up to the window to steady yourself as the speed of his thrusts doubled. What a triple threat he was, pistoning his cock into you, abusing your nipples with his mouth and massaging your clit all at once. The sound of slapping skin and wanton moans filled the rocking truck. You didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, you could only physically care about the man underneath you.

“Joel, m’gonna-” you gasped, his routine faltering as you clenched down on him.

“Fuck, yeah I know, baby. I feel her beggin’. Wan’ you to make a mess f’me,” he hissed between clenched teeth as you whined over him.

Moans were caught in the back of your throat, legs locking up and jaw dropping. With one, two, three more thrusts, your body froze. The only movement came from your fluttering cunt. Bliss completely took over your being as you collapsed against Joel, thighs twitching as you finally found your breath once more.

When you came to your senses, more warmth filled you as Joel came to his. His desperate moans made way to your ears, a breathtaking melody you’d commit crimes to hear again and again.

And you did, without the criminal streak of course.

Each of your following dates ended tangled together, covered in a combination of your own sweat and cum and his own. You were insatiable with this man, as he was with you, christening both his house and your apartment, any surface imaginable.

Around your sixth date, you had something up your sleeve. You had invited him over for a home cooked meal. A silk wrap dress adorned your figure, concealing the prettiest lingerie set you could find while shopping, coincidentally in his favorite color.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted Joel cheerily as you opened the door. Snowflakes were sprinkled across his shoulders and in his hair. Your arms wrapped up and around his neck, pulling him in for a quick, yet passionate kiss. A couple of snow crystals from his mustache melted against your lips, the cold sensation contrasting greatly from his warm skin.

His face lingered near yours, eyes still closed as he took in the aromas of your apartment. You smelled of a rich, warm vanilla, your living room had an aroma of lavender from your candles, and to top it off, the food you were cooking smelled incredible. You swore you could hear his stomach growling.

“You look so beautiful, darlin’,” he drawled. “Y’smell good too.”

He slid off his jacket, hanging it up on your coat rack. He toed his shoes off on the mat to keep from tracking snow throughout your apartment. All the while his eyes devoured you shamelessly, even after you turned away to return to your kitchen.

“Whatcha cookin’, baby? Smells amazing,” he hummed.

“Chicken alfredo,” you smiled at him, stirring the sauce as the pasta cooked in the boiling water. You picked up some of the water in a ladle and added it to the creamy goodness in your saucepan before straining the noodles.

“Wanted to keep it simple, can’t go wrong with a classic, hm?” You returned the al dente fettuccine back into the pot, removing it from the burner and turning it off.

Joel’s thick arms wrapped around your middle as he fit himself behind you. He slotted his head on your shoulder, peppering soft kisses along your exposed neck. His hips pressed against you, his half hard length trapped between you both.

“Are you hard?” You giggled, only seeing his dark tuffs of curls in your peripheral. You knew that you looked good but you had barely touched the man for Christ’s sake.

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled against your supple skin, deeply inhaling your scent. “Smell jus’ like candy, baby. Need a taste.”

“Joel, what are you-” you’re cut off by the warmth of his hands on your thighs, dragging up your skin, skimming over your garter belt, and taking the skirt of your dress with them. His presence next to you dissipated as he sank to his knees.

“Keep doing your thing, I’ll do mine,” he hummed, sucking in a sharp breath through closed teeth as he took in the lace adorning the swell of your ass. His breath was hot on your rear as his fingers ghosted over your panties, putting light pressure against your clothed clit.

“Joel-” you gasped in pleasure, his ministrations drawing a whine from you. “I can’t cook like this.”

He chuckled at your response to his actions and peeked his head out from under your dress to look you in your eyes, his fingers caressing and skimming over your soft skin.

“But you like it?” he asked, his voice husking and his eyes full of desire as he looked you over. “You like to know just how much I want you?”

He let his eyes slowly drift up to your face, gazing at you with an air of hunger and excitement as you nodded silently. He was going to be the death of you.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” he cooed, disappearing once more, planting wet kisses on your ass and sucking your flesh gently as he teased your entrance with his rough middle fingertip. Your grip on the counter surrounding your stove tightened significantly as your head tipped back with pleasure.

His fingers found their way under your panties, hooking into them and pulling them away from your glistening cunt. He dragged his knuckles through your folds a few strokes, stopping at your bundle of nerves to apply just the perfect amount of pressure.

A gasp was caught in your throat, morphing into a strangled moan as he rubbed your pussy and sucked his marks into your skin.

“Joel-”

Your impending complaint was cut off with a firm smack to your cheek. He groaned at the rippling flesh, his tongue diving into your slit.

“You gon’ keep complainin’? I can stop,” he muttered, licking against your swollen clit and sucking it between his lips. The only response coming from you were moans and sighs, the sound going straight to Joel’s cock as he continued to lap at your cunt.

“Fuck,” you cried. “Please don’t stop, I need it.”

Joel gripped onto the flesh of your thighs hard enough to leave bruises for the next few days to come. Your back arched, pushing yourself against his face harder. His groans vibrated against your pussy, adding to the multitude of sensations he was giving you.

The swirling pattern between your lips felt different, felt new, felt so fucking good.

“Fuck, just like that,” you sighed, gripping your fingers into his curls to anchor him where he belonged. “God don’t stop whatever you’re doing.”

“I’m just claiming what’s mine,” he grumbled as he continued. A moan escaped you in response as you focused on his tongue lapping at your cunt, licking the same pattern over and over again.

J-O-E-L

“Holy shit,” you panted as his tongue dove into your weeping hole, collecting your arousal before continuing his pattern. “Are you spelling your name?”

“Like I said, darlin’, claimin’ what’s mine,” a growl rumbled in his chest as he went right back to work. His palms laid flush against your ass, squeezing your flesh and stretching it up to get a better view and angle of your pussy. The coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter as he alternated between licking and sucking, squeezing and fucking his first two fingers into your heat.

“I’m s’close, please please plea-” you whined, pushing your ass back onto his face as you chased your high.

Joel’s pace was relentless as he curled his fingers into your g-spot, massaging the spongy tissue precisely while sucking your clit between his tongue. The awaiting release almost sent you forward into the hot burner, but you were just able to catch yourself on the cool edge of the stove. Your body trembled as he worked you through the intense climax, lapping your cum as it seeped from you with a content groan.

“You did s’good for me, baby,” he cooed as he rose from his knees. His beard was shining with your arousal, damn near dripping down his chin. He took your face in his palms and kissed you roughly, making sure your tongue was completely coated with your spend.

The stovetop timer blared, signaling that the chicken was ready to be taken out. Joel reached past you blindly to stop the pestering noise.

“Dinner can wait,” he panted between kisses, drawing a guttural groan from you as he pulled your bottom lip back between his teeth. His hand traveled south to your neck, not applying pressure.

“But Joel,” you whined, thinking about the time you just spent preparing the meal. You had to admit, he was making it incredibly difficult to even care. “It’s gonna be cold.”

“But nothin’,” he spat, pulling at the tie of your dress and watching it spill open. His thumb creeped up to pull on your chin, forcing your mouth open to him. “You have a microwave for a reason. I have something else to eat in the meantime.”

His eyes ran hungrily over your lingerie. The dark blue and white set contrasted beautifully from your skin, making his cock constrict further against his jeans. He quickly turned off the oven, the burners and took the chicken out before gripping your hand.

He had no problem finding your bedroom. Joel went to sleep full and satisfied that night as did you.

to stay up to date on when I post fics, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications! i hope you enjoyed <3

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: first few dates

741 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 7 months

Text

SKIN

pairing luke hughes x fem!reader

summary a late night at home with luke

warning(s) fluff, allusion/mention of smut (barely detailed), not sure what else

word count 1.1k

authors note this piece of writing for luke is probably my favorite i’ve ever written. i truly hope you all enjoy it as much as i do, and as always, any reblogs or constructive criticism is always appreciated <3 — mari

Your fingers navigated the intricate landscape of Luke's curls, a delicate dance that involved caressing the wild tangles, and occasionally tugging at the ends, your nails gently tracing across his scalp. Each pass of your fingertips sent shivers down his spine, evoking soft, contented sighs from him that whispered against your skin. He rested atop you, almost as if he'd melded with your form, his lean legs sprawled languidly over yours, the weight of his body a comforting anchor. His strong arms encircled your waist, offering both a sense of security and profound connection, radiating a warmth that permeated through your skin and enveloped your core. His head had found its sanctuary on your chest, rising and falling in perfect synchrony with your exhaled breaths and rhythm of your heartbeat.

As he drifted deeper into slumber, light snores occasionally escaped his parted lips, an endearing reminder of his peaceful surrender to rest. The muted tones of Sportscenter played softly in the background, an unobtrusive soundtrack to your shared moment, its distant glow casting a soft, blueish hue across your cozy space. You watch the screen with detached interest, not particularly invested in the broadcast, but unwilling to disrupt the stillness of the moment by searching for the remote, which had become an inconsequential trinket in this oasis of tranquility, where the world outside now ceased to matter.

Luke had made an impromptu visit to your apartment a few hours ago, his face illuminated by the glow of victory after his team's hard-fought win against the Rangers. The game had been a grueling, high-stakes battle that culminated in a rousing 6-5 overtime victory. You had been engrossed in the game on your laptop, the backdrop to your frantic efforts to complete some last-minute schoolwork.

As you watched, your heart had soared with pride for the boys on the ice, but it was Luke who had truly captured your admiration. He had been a standout player, netting a crucial goal and tallying four points in total. The achievement had warmed your heart to its core, but what had touched you even more was his choice to celebrate this victory with you. Rather than joining his teammates for a night out at the bar, he had chosen the intimacy of your company, a gesture that spoke volumes about the way he truly felt about you.

Together, you began the lovely task of preparing his favorite meal, fettuccine alfredo. As the savory aroma of the sauce filled the kitchen, the two of you effortlessly slipped into your own enchanting world. Lost in each other's gaze, you began a spontaneous slow dance to the soulful notes of 'Dijon's "Skin," which played softly through your speaker. You melted into his comforting touch, finding solace in the circle of his arms as you both moved gracefully, an intimate dance within the confines of your small kitchen. His chin rested tenderly atop your head, and in that fleeting moment, you yearned for time to stand still, allowing you to exist forever within this embrace. In this singular instance, worries and work faded away, leaving only the idyllic essence of your love, encapsulated in the gentle sway of your bodies to the sweet strains of a love ballad.

The soft glow of the living room provided a warm ambience, while Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift played quietly on the television. As the two of you indulged in your meals, Luke explained some of the inner workings of tonights game during the commercials, giving you an added appreciation for how arduous the win truly was. You couldn't help but appreciate the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of his teammates' accomplishments, his humility shining through as he downplayed his own success from the night.

It didn't take long before the chemistry between you two grew palpable, and the desire became irresistible. You eventually abandoned the living room for the intimacy of your bedroom, eager to express your deep affection for each other in the tender embrace of the tangled sheets beneath your duvet.

Tonight was a celebration of him, and the man he was. You desired to cater to him, to convey your adoration not through mere words but through actions. To show how proud you were of him and and how deeply your love for him ran.

The sex was lazy and passionate, you doing most of the work as his energy was waning. He planted soft, wet kisses on your neck as you rode him through his orgasm, his soft whimpering of your name prompting your own release. You fell on top of him with a quiet moan, and his hands reached against your back, massaging the sweat stricken skin as he murmured praises into your ear.

The two of you shared a quick shower, washing away the temporary evidence of the heartfelt night you'd shared. You pampered him with your skincare routine, caring for his skin as well as your own. And after brushing your teeth side by side, you both retreated back to the comfort of your bed.

Luke now stirs on top of you, his eyes slowly fluttering open, only to squint in response to the sudden intrusion of light emanating from the television, which now displayed a random informercial.

"I can't believe you're still awake," Luke rasps, his voice a husky mumble from the brink of slumber. His gaze remains fixed on your intertwined bodies, not lifting to meet your eyes. Slipping his hand under your shirt, his fingers trace aimless patterns on your stomach, a gentle and affectionate touch in the quiet intimacy of the night.

A soft smile graces your lips. "I like to watch you sleep."

He snorts, and you feel the rumble of his laughter resonate through his chest against your body. "Such a creep," he teases, his voice filled with fondness.

An involuntary yawn escapes your lips, and as you turn to glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, your eyes widen at the time displayed – two am. Had you really been laying here, running your hands through Luke's hair for an hour and a half?

He rises from his sprawled position on top of you, unfolding his frame with a contented stretch. His bare feet meet the cool, unforgiving embrace of the hardwood floor with a soft thud as he ambles towards the bathroom. In the dim light, you seize the moment to search beneath the tangled sheets for the TV remote, waiting until Luke returns, before extinguishing the screen.

Another yawn escapes from your lips, marking the shift in positions as Luke draws you close against his chest. Nestling into his side, you're serenaded by the gentle metre of his heartbeat, its soothing echo resonating in your ear.

"Go to sleep, baby, I know you're tired."

You hum in response, finally content with allowing your eyes to close.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfiction

835 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but can you do something smutty with steve in season 3 w his scoops ahoy uniform on after he gets home from work or something🙏🏼🙏🏼

like sub!babygirl!steve is so 🤤🤤😽😽 and a

dom!femreader 🫶❤️❤️ AND OMG HE HAS A MOMMY KINK😧😧 I BEG OF YOU

✶ ┄ OH, BABY !

summary: after a long day at work, steve harrington needs someone (*cough cough* you) to take care of him. pairing: sub!steve harrington / f!reader word count: 5.6k warnings: sub!steve, brief use of a mommy kink, r calls steve daddy like twice i think, mention of a breeding kink, 18+ mdni (ignore any typos, i am way too tired to proofread <3) a/n: hi, it's me again, turning a blurb request into a full length fic. also i can't stop writing for sub steve apparently. all i can say is baby girl is baby girlin real hard in this one lol thanks so much for your request! enjoy xoxo

( BLURB SLEEPOVER ) | ( MASTERLIST )

It’s sunset by the time his shift at Scoops concludes. He serves the last few remaining customers while Robin less than kindly ushers out the loitering teenagers that have stuck around all day.

A group of moms clad in vividly colored spandex tells him “we’re being bad today” like some sort of mantra that makes them feel better about ordering plain vanilla ice cream. Some middle school aged girls with a mouthful of braces, crimped hair in pigtails, and absolutely wreaking of fruity perfume and daddy’s money try helplessly to flirt with him while they use a matte black card to purchase a banana boat sundae.

His last customers of the night are an old married couple, all gray and wrinkly and smiling like life’s still so new to them. They order one strawberry cone to share between them and hold onto each other’s shaking, frail hands as they make their exit.

Steve smiles as he watches them go. He sees a lot of you and him in them. He hopes by the time you both are all old and brittle, you’ll still be happy like that, still so in love.

Working in the downstairs abyss of Starcourt makes him feel crazy sometimes. With no windows and only manufactured fluorescent lighting for ten hours straight, it makes time feel less and less real.

Sometimes he’ll be in before sun out and cower like some sort of vampire when his shift is over. Other times, he’ll come out when it’s pouring down rain and be absolutely baffled at the sight of it because it was perfectly sunny when his shift started.

Everything else but ice cream all but ceases to exist in the hole of Scoops Ahoy — weather, time, life.

Even though it’s closing when he leaves, Steve doesn’t realize how dark it’s gotten outside until he’s walking through the desolate parking lot to his car. The bustling mall has fallen asleep with the rest of the town. The sky has long turned to a navy velvet, the stars and full moon bright white silk.

It makes his limbs heavy and his eyelids heavier as his tired bones ache for rest.

Steve makes the longer drive out to the cabin rather than his own home to see you. Hopper’s out for some conference which means El gets to spend every ounce of her time at the Wheeler’s and you and Steve get to play house.

He doesn’t bother to knock before he comes in. He shuffles through the entrance like his feet are made of lead and leans his weight against the door after he clicks it closed.

The sound of his arrival gets your attention from where you scurry around the kitchen. A smile pulls slowly at your face as you turn over your shoulder to look at him, placing a cover over a pot of something that smells like your infamous chicken alfredo.

“Hey, Stevie,” you greet with a beam and a sort of sunshine in your voice that Steve’s been missing all day.

His body relaxes for the first time since he got up this morning at the sight of you, freshly showered and in your pajamas for the night — an oversized t-shirt that definitely didn’t belong to you before, because it used to be his.

You look more like home than any four walls could ever be to him.

Steve tries his best to give you a smile in return, but it’s weighed down by fatigue and not all there.

You can see it all over him, every ounce of exhaustion on his lax and tired features. Slinging ice cream for less than grateful customers for ten hours straight has taken an obvious toll on him. The bright blue sailor’s uniform makes him look more boyish, but no less tired — or hot.

Your heart swells at how cozy he looks, fatigued and warmed and in dire need of being taken care of. It makes you glad that you started dinner earlier than normal, even happier that you’ve got the house to yourselves.

You exit the kitchen and walk the short distance to him, taking his scruffy cheeks in your palms and rubbing your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Hard day?” you wonder softly and smile to himself when you feel Steve nestle further into your touch.

The boy hums lowly in reply — neither a yes or a no, but a short hmph that means he doesn’t want to talk about it now. He doesn’t like thinking about work when you’re in his arms and all over him. He’d rather pretend like you’re the only thing that exists and let the rest of the world slip slowly away.

He turns his face to kiss the inside of your wrists. You smell like lavender, he finds, and it makes him that much more tired and needy for you.

His hands settle on your arms, fingers wrapping themselves just below your wrists. “Just tired,” he answers finally. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours, I’m assuming,” you quip with a smile. Your hands drag from his face, down the tense columns of his neck, and settle at the white lapel of his uniform. Steve lets you pull him down by his red neckerchief until his lips press against yours, the pillows of them far cozier than the bed and blanket he so craves right now.

He grows somehow heavier against you. He exhales deeply through his nose as his aching muscles start to relax, the warmth of it brushes against your cupid’s bow. His hands fall to your back and ball into your shirt as he clutches so ardently onto you, as though terrified he might have to go another agonizing ten hours without you.

Your smile contorts against his mouth. A laugh exhales sharply through your nose at this tired boy, exhausted and too willing to let you swallow him whole.

As much as you want to take care of you him, you want him to get a little food in his belly and fresh clothes on his skin.

He’s got freshly laundered cottons sitting in a drawer you cleaned out in your room especially for him and a pot of his favorite food simmering on the stove. He’ll be golden in an hour or more and you’ll happily take care of him then.

Steve whines when you pull away from him. The pathetic sound bubbles from his throat and his face screws up like you’ve actually pained him by not kissing him more. He ducks down, looming over you, as his lips chase yours.

You giggle at him, letting him kiss you — one, two, three quick pecks and a fourth sweeter, more drawn-out one he presses against you as the two of you stumble back into the living room.

“You need to eat first, okay?” you protest when you part from him again, lips clicking wetly as they separate. “You probably haven’t had anything all day.”

“I had half a banana in the break room at lunch,” he retorts, half-heartedly.

“Exactly,” you scold. “Go get changed and then we can eat, ‘kay?”

“If you wanted to see me naked so bad, you could’ve just said.”

You roll your eyes at him and how he’s still so sly despite being so damn tired. You push playfully against his chest and squirm out from under where he’d cornered you between his body and the back of the couch. “You smell like a sundae and cheap cologne—”

“Blame those assholes from Abercrombie.”

“—hit the showers, Harrington,” you tell him with a playful sternness, swatting him on the ass as you pass by him.

The action stopped surprising him a long time ago. He’d complained relentlessly about corporate and the stupid outfit they made him wear to work every morning until he realized how much you liked it.

After that, Steve figured he could put up with the itching and the chaffing and the weird stares from other mall-goers. As long as it meant you being unable to keep your hands off of him, dropping to your knees in front of him before he left for work, visiting him at lunch because you just had to see him again.

“You comin’ too, or…?” he jokes in reply, already inching towards the bathroom, but secretly hoping you’ll say yes.

You refuse to amuse him, though, and instead tell him that you have to keep stirring the pasta so it won’t burn. He’s too tired and too excited to wash all the muck of the long workday from his body to beg.

You knew just what he needed — like you always do. He’s as good as gold by the time he gets out of the shower, smelling of your shampoo and practically glittering at how good he feels.

His skin gets to breathe for the first time all day when he slips on a pair of boxers and a faded forest green Hawkins High sweatshirt. They’re freshly washed. He can tell by how soft they feel and the way they smell of fresh detergent.

It makes his heart swell.

While he’s been slinging ice cream and questioning all of his life choices, you’ve been washing his clothes, folding them and putting the in their own drawer in your dresser. You’ve been cooking him his favorite dinner, knowing he hasn’t eaten all day, because you know everything about him.

You do it all because you love him. You don’t have to think twice about it before you so effortlessly take care of him.

He swears you’ll feed him if he begs hard enough, but Steve hasn’t reached that level of tiredness yet. He does, however, force you to sit halfway in his lap while the both of you opt to eat on the couch in the living room rather than the kitchen table.

A repeat of Miami Vice plays on the tiny television across the room and you tell him about what you’d done on your day off in between shoveling forkfuls of pasta into your mouth with your legs slung into his lap.

Most of it was spent taking care of chores, a feat made harder without Hopper and El to take on the extra workloads but easier because their absence meant less shit to get done.

You drove Dustin and Lucas to the Wheeler’s house later that morning, then doubled back across Hawkins when Max called and all but begged you to free her from the hellscape on Cherry Lane, as she so lovingly put it. You picked her up and dropped her off with the rest of her friends.

And even though they all swore they had rides back home, they’d called again some hours later and asked too sweetly if you could take them back across town.

You complain and grumble about it, but you do it for them anyway.

Because you take care of people. That’s just what you do.

“So you were a personal chauffeur for a bunch of kids all day?” Steve jokes and laughs to himself as he swipes a smudge of alfredo sauce from your chin with his thumb

“Basically,” you nod in reply.

When that’s all done — and the episode is over and the dishes are in the sink and your teeth are freshly brushed — you tell Steve to get into bed, and then to get his head out of the gutter at the look he gives you after.

He’s pleasantly surprised when you bring a whole basket of things from the bathroom and into your bedroom. He watches silently, obediently, as you light a candle on the far side of the room before climbing into bed beside him.

“Scoot down a little,” you tell him. “And take off your shirt.”

He does it all without question. He rises, strips himself of his top, and tosses the thing mindlessly on the floor beside the bed. With his lean torso and bare chest on display, spotted with tufts of chestnut-colored hair and smelling of your body wash, he lazes back onto the bed again with his head on the pillows.

Steve holds his breathe when you straddle his chest.

“Comfy?” you ask him quietly.

He can only nod in response.

His eyes are wide, twinkling with love and curiosity. It makes you smile. He’s always so soft in his way, so compliant with you — and, fuck, if you don’t love how he looks when he’s underneath you.

You lean down to press a chaste kiss to the chiseled tip of his nose then reach for one of the many bottles stacked inside the wicker basket. You drip the rose-scented liquid onto a cottonpad and tell him that it’s cleanser.

“I thought I was already clean?” he retorts.

“Well, this shit is gonna make ya glow like a baby, Harrington,” you tell him and swipe the stuff up and down his face — across his forehead, along his nose, and around his stubbly jaw. “Which means it’s perfect for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you’re a baby,” you quip once, then smile lovingly down at him. “My baby,” you correct.

“Damn straight,” he hums with a soft smile, then shuts his eyes when you trade the cleanser for what you call a liquid exfoliator. He doesn’t ask what that means. He doesn’t say much of anything really, because he’s enamored with the way you dote on him.

Your day has been just as busy as his, maybe not as mind-numbing, but still busy. You’ve been bouncing all across town, trying to make sure a bunch of kids weren’t putting themselves in total danger — Steve knows firsthand how hard that can be.

And yet, you keep caring for him, like it’s more important than how tired you must be.

The way you’ve settled on top of him is just a bonus. It’s not as domineering as you usually are in this position, straddling your legs over him and forcing his face between your legs with your fingers tangled in his hair. He wouldn’t have minded if that’s what you’d done in the first place. He would’ve thanked you for it, really.

It’s comforting more than it is anything, the subtle weight of you on top of him, keeping him grounded.

You rub something that feels like lotion into his skin. The tips of your fingers massage his face — they dig softly into his temples, relieving all the strain there, then trace around his curve of his jaw. Steve sighs and melts into your touch. It makes you laugh.

“Look at you,” you giggle, all soft like the moonlight streaming in rays from the windows. Then you tease him. “My baby’s gettin’ all pampered tonight, huh?”

“That stuff smells really good,” he notes. “Think it’s safe enough to taste?”

You know he’s joking, but you flick him in the center of his freshly moisturized forehead anyway, when his tongue darts out the side of his mouth to lick around his lips.

“You’re such an idiot,” you scold with a laugh. “There’s no way we’re gonna be able to have a kid if you keep acting like one, Steve Harrington.”

The boy's eyes fly open. “…A kid?” he repeats in something short of a whisper.

You only hum in reply with a little shrug like you’re trying to play it all off. Like you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him and left him to pick up the pieces. Like it isn't the sweetest goddamn thing he’s ever heard in his life (even though you are sort of making fun of him).

“You want a kid with me?” he presses, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“‘Course I do,” you shrug again, focusing on capping the moisturizer and putting it away rather than meeting his intense gaze. “Want anything and everything with you, Stevie.”

The boy doesn’t bother to hide the grin your words put on his face. He’s all but beaming from where he lays beneath you, trying to make sure he’s still breathing because his heart has started to flutter something fierce.

It was something the two of you only ever talked about in passing — usually him bringing up the idea of having kids and you swatting them all down.

“We’re too young,” you tell him. “We’re too broke”, “we’re too dumb.” The occasional “my dad is literally in the next room, he’ll kill you if he hears you talking like that” shuts him up real quick.

But here you are now, telling him you want a baby with him, that you want everything with him. It drives him absolutely insane.

“Yeah?” he hums in response, idle hands rising and settling upon your bare thighs, rubbing at the smooth skin there, petting you almost. The room gets suddenly and unbearably hot with the look he gives you, innocent and knowing and hungry.

You feel him shift from underneath you, the hardening cock in his boxers making it hard to stay as comfortable as he had been.

“You wanna be a mommy, honey?” he all but coos. “Wanna take care of our kids like you take care of me?”

Though his words set a fire in the pit of your stomach, the tone of them makes you roll your eyes. It’s like flipping a light switch when it comes to Steve. It takes next to nothing to turn him into a puddle of mush.

He’s always raring to go when it comes to you, and you’d be lying if you said it was totally invigorating.

“What happened to my sweet, sleepy, baby Stevie, huh?” you tease, hands leaving his face to caress the ones he’s got resting on your thighs. “Thought you were too tired?”

He shakes his head defiantly. “Never too tired for you.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you scold with bubbly laughter when you feel his large hands trail up your legs. His finger falls beneath your shirt, the tips of them sneaking into the rounded hems of your underwear, all but cupping your ass to drag you further up his chest.

He’s practically salivating at the mere thought of tasting you. Of knowing that the only thing separating you from him is a couple of inches and the thin fabric of your underwear.

He knows that when he slides them to the side, you’ll be wet and needing him underneath, slick enough for his tongue to slip right in.

And, truth be told, oral sex wasn’t the easiest when you weren’t alone. It was too precarious of a position. If Hopper knocked on the door and barged in hardly a moment later, you needed to break away quickly.

So when your dad and little sister were home, it was easier to use your hands to get each other off. And, maybe, if Steve was real good, you’d let him fuck you.

But his mouth on you? There wasn’t enough good he could be for you to let him do that, not when your father was on the other side of the door in the living room. Because you’re pretty sure death would be easier than your dad catching Steve Harrington giving cunnilingus to his daughter. You’re pretty sure you’d die on the spot, anyway.

But Hopper is miles away. Your sister is on the other side of town. And you’re alone with your boyfriend, hidden away in a cabin in the middle of the woods. It’s the perfect recipe for the best sex of your life.

“Don’t care,” Steve murmurs, pressing kisses to the inner parts of your thigh when he settles you more intently over his shoulders. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah?” you croon. From below you, the boy notes the arched brow and knowing glint in your eye that usually means trouble. “Daddy wants to make mommy feel good, huh?”

Steve knows exactly why you said it. Why you chose to say it like that. It’s the same reason you brought up the kid thing in the first place. Because you knew it would drive him crazy.

And it’s not like you ever had to try to make him mental, all you really had to do was walk into a room and he was done for. But you didn’t just want to just make him go insane, you wanted to ruin him.

And you know you’ve done just that when a groan spills from his mouth and two strong hands dig rather ruthlessly into your hips. He pulls you down without warning, pressing your clothed pussy closer to his face and dragging his nose between your covered lips. A moan leaves your mouth in a heavy exhale when the tip of it nudges your clit.

“Like being called daddy, huh?” you tease through bated breaths.

Steve nods in reply as he hooks a finger through the hem of your panties and slides them to the side, putting your pretty, glistening pussy on display for him.

He was right about what he said before — you were soaked.

All but drunk on the sight of you, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your inner thigh. “Like the other thing, too,” he mumbles against your skin, like he’s hiding himself there.

“The other thing?” you question with pinched brows. The confusion ebbs like a rolling tide as you realize: “Oh. You wanna call me mommy, Stevie?” you ask with a joking lilt.

“Shut up,” he groans against you.

He’s pleasantly surprised when your hand grabs the strands of his hair like reigns, pulling him back just before he puts his mouth on your pussy. He’s even more stunned at the stern expression taking over your features, not nearly as playful as you’d been moments before.

Suddenly you’re ten feet tall, and he’s nothing more than an ant, at the mercy of your boot.

“That’s no way to talk to your mommy, is it, Stevie?”

He shakes his head with glazed over eyes. “Sorry.”

“Sorry… what?”

There is an underlying tone in your voice, something teasing and yet somehow serious all at once. It’d make him roll his eyes if he weren’t lying beneath you like this. Now, with your pussy mere inches from his face, he isn’t quite sure how to be anything but obedient.

“Sorry, mommy,” he corrects.

A flip switches and you’re smiling again. “Good boy,” you praise and it makes his cock twitch in the confines of his boxers. Your hand guides him to your pussy again.

Steve’s always been good at oral. A little too good, actually. It made you jealous sometimes, to know that his technique has been perfected over years of experience.

“All the other girls were just practice for you, honey,” he’d soothe your seething rage with a wink and a tongue shoved deep into your cunt.

You believe him now, that every other girl was just an obstacle for him to get to you, because no one’s had him like this. No one will ever have him like this.

You’re the one who’s got him on his back with his mouth on your pussy. You’re the one who’s got him calling you mommy.

And it makes you feel like a fucking giant.

He wastes little time to envelope your cunt with his mouth. You feel the muffled grunt he lets out at the tangy and familiar taste of you. His tongue pushes into your cunt, licking you with the intent of devouring you entirely. His nose presses intently against your clit, prodding the little button as you ride his face. He encourages every thrust, guiding your hips up and down his mouth.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you whine and feel him smile drunkenly against your pussy, never ceasing his assault against your sensitive skin.

Your head falls back, suddenly too heavy to hold up. Your gaze settles on the ceiling, though you’re not exactly looking at it, and moans fall from your open mouth and into the heavy air — billowing laments in the moonlight.

“You make me feel so good,” you murmur to yourself, but to him especially, knowing he turns into a ticking time bomb when he’s praised. “Always make mommy feel so fucking good, baby.”

He groans against you, and it makes your hips twitch over his face.

Your head turns and your glazed over eyes fall on the hard cock trapped in his underwear. It’s more than apparent against the thin fabric with a wet patch of precum darkening the plaid cotton. The sight of it, paired with his lips wrapped around your clit, makes you moan most pitifully.

“Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “You’re gonna make me come. Holy shit, baby— gonna come so hard in your mouth.” The promise makes Steve double his efforts against you, wanting nothing more than to taste every drop you can give him. “I’ll ride you after, 'kay? Make you come so hard you can’t see straight. Fuck. I’m so fucking close.”

You figure his muffled whine is an affirmative.

“If you make me come now, maybe I’ll let you come inside me—”

You barely get to finish your sentence before Steve’s wrapping his arms around your thighs and keeping you pressed against his face. His tongue works overtime inside of your cunt, attentively flicking against every part of your velvet walls that it can reach, while his nose nudges your clit most relentlessly.

It has you reaching your climax within seconds, hips jerking against him while his hold on you tightens. Steve only lets you go when he’s certain you’ve ridden out every inch of your orgasm.

You’re shaking and half-numb when you unfold your body from his and settle next to him on the bed. You press yourself over him as your lips swallow his, tasting yourself on his mouth that glistens with you.

Your torso is splayed over his bare one, knees digging into the mattress at his side as you arch your back to push yourself further into him.

“Was that good for you?” he mutters after you’ve pulled away, sliding the tip of your nose up and down the bridge of his.

A laugh escapes you in a sharp scoff. If he couldn’t have felt how good it was for you — after you all but writhed against him — surely he must’ve tasted it dripping like honey from your cunt.

“It’s always good,” you assure him, then murmur more quietly, “Always so good for mommy.”

You keep the promise you’d made him no more than minutes beforehand. You pull down his boxers at the same time he’s trying to get you out of your shirt, and it’s just a mess of yearning limbs until the both of you are naked.

You rub yourself over his cock a few times, getting it all slick with you in the place of lube, because you know taking him is never an easy feat. The stretch of his dick inside you is always delicious but fuck if it doesn’t burn. It’s like fire in every sense of the word, hot and filthy paired with a distant ache.

Steve lets you set the pace as you get used to his length nestled deep inside your velvet. His hands rest compliantly on your hips as you grind against him, honeyed gaze fixed on your fucked out features as you take him — brows pinched, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

Then, when every inch of him is snug in your cunt and your senses return to you, you deny him of his want to touch you. Your fingers wrap around his wrists and push them into the pillow on either side of his head. “Mommy didn’t say you could touch her, did she?” you purr to him as you lean over him. He shakes his head obediently, if only it meant that you kept fucking yourself on top of him.

And you do. Most ardently.

You keep your bare chest pressed against his fuzzy one, nose-to-nose as you slide your hips over his. And even though he’s had you like this before (in this position and many others), it feels brand new every time. It’s like he’s never felt you before despite how familiar you feel.

It triggers his body into a sense of fight of flight, as though frightened he’ll never get to have you again. It leaves him fucking you like it’ll be the last time he’s inside you, every fucking time.

It never is, though — obviously. Most times he only has to wait a couple minutes or more before he gets to take you again.

But now, with his hands balled into fists beside his head and your’s braced on his chest, digging into the patch of hair there as you rock back and forth on his hard cock — the tip of it nestled deep inside of you and hitting every sweet spot that makes you keen — has left him an absolute wreck beneath you.

He’s chasing his pleasure like he’s never felt it before. Like he won’t feel it again.

“Your cock feels so good, Stevie,” you moan above him.

“‘M not gonna last long, baby,” he mutters between harsh and labored pants.

“’S okay… I want you to come,” you promise and press a too sweet kiss to his swollen, pink lips. You move your hips more intently over him. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. “Want you to fill me up.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out in something short of a whimper. His eyes are glassy and his brows are furrowed and it takes everything in him not to fuck up into you — because he wants to be good, he wants to be good for you.

“Yeah… Want you come in me… Fuck me until it takes,” you babble over top of him, knowing exactly what it’s doing to the whining boy beneath you. “Wanna give you a baby— fuck— I wanna make you a daddy, Stevie.”

A whine spills from his throat. His toes curl into the fabric of your comforter, eyes rolling back into his head, body tensing as he digs his fingers into the skin of his palms that still ache to touch you.

Your name spills from his mouth along with a string of curses and pretty little cries when he stuffs you full of his come.

You happily accept every load he shoots into you as work him through every aftershock of his orgasm. Yours doesn’t come so easy — you roll your hips over yourself and rub your clit until you’re twitching right along with him.

You come down from your highs together with a tender softness. You lay over him, one hand combing through his curls and the other stroking softly at his sweat-slicked bicep. You watch with heavy eyes as his orgasm rolls over him.

His chest rises and falls with every heavy breath, stuttering when another pang of pleasure hits him all of a sudden. “Fuck,” he whines harshly into the heavy air.

He’s happy you don’t deny him when his arms wrap around your waist, hands rubbing up and down the expanse of your slick back.

You press tiny kisses to his face as he comes down — his nose, his cheeks, his forehead his stubbly chin and jaw. You press one, two, three pecks to his lips before you slide off of him, then laugh when he whines.

You’re gone for hardly more than three minutes, but to Steve, it feels like an eternity’s gone by.

You return from the bathroom, wiped freshly clean, and blow out the nearly burnt-out candle on your dresser before you slither back into his side. One of his arms curls beneath your shoulders to pull you closer to him with his other rests on the back of yours that’s settled on his chest.

You share one pillow, noses inches away from one another’s, while you bask in the warm moment and the sex-coated air around you before you have to break it.

“You know I’m still on the pill, right?” you ask him.

He nods.

“And that we’re—”

“Way too young to have a kid right now?” he finishes for you, though the idea makes him sad. He nods.

“Yeah… And—”

“Too broke? I know that too.”

“Also my—”

“Your dad would kill me if I got you pregnant?”

It makes you laugh. You hadn’t realized you’d talked about having kids this many times — at least, not enough for him to memorize all the reasons why it’s not the best idea right now.

“Yeah, I know it’s not happening any time soon,” Steve says with a sigh. “I like to pretend, though. Plus, it’s not even about that to me, you know? I just… I just like being with you and… everything.”

Everything, you repeat to yourself. A word that means so much and nothing at all.

No one knows what everything means, they just know that it’s a lot, a whole lot. That’s what makes it so special. Steve wants it all with you — the overbearing dad, the sister with powers, the teenage kids who never let you have a single second to yourselves when they’re around.

It’s a lot sometimes, most times, but he’ll weather it all with you.

“You like being with me?” you echo just to see him nod.

He does. “I love being with you,” he corrects.

“Love calling me mommy, too, huh?”

He realizes then, the sincere moment was just a set-up for that stupid joke. He groans and flops his head back on the pillow, but makes no move to distance himself from you.

“Oh, my god,” he moans in annoyance. “Am I gonna have to deal with this the rest of my life?”

You nod. “Sorry, Harrington, but I’m never letting that shit go.”

Good, he thinks to himself, even though he pretends to hate it because it makes you laugh. He never wants you to stop.

#published by bug #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #st oneshots

1K notes · View notes

incorrectbatfam · 8 months

Note

I am curious about Steph's time working in retail. Any interesting stories about her time there?

[at a clothing store]

Steph: Your total is $133.37.

Margie: You forgot my coupon.

Steph: It expired two months ago.

Margie: Can you still try?

Skylar: Mom, it's fine.

Margie: Shush, let her try.

Steph: Sure I can try.

*coupon declines*

Steph: Your total is $133.37.

Margie: But the coupon.

Steph: *sighs*

———————

[at a drive-thru]

Steph: Welcome to Batburgers, what can I get you?

Margie: I'll do a double batburger with fries and a six-piece Robin nugget.

Steph: Anything else?

Margie: Nope.

Steph: Alright, please pull up to the next window.

Margie: *goes into the store*

Margie: Where's my order?

———————

[at a coffee shop]

Steph: Iced vanilla latte for... Maggie?

Margie: It's Margie.

Steph: Sorry about that.

Margie: You should be. I want you to remake it, and this time get my name right.

———————

[at a restaurant]

Steph: Are you guys ready to order?

Margie: Yes, I'll do the chicken alfredo, but can you do it without salt? I'm trying this new zero-sodium diet from Facebook.

Steph: Sure.

[twenty minutes later]

Steph: How's everything tasting?

Margie: My food is completely tasteless.

Steph: Would you like me to take it back?

Margie: Yes, and fix it.

[ten minutes later]

Steph: Here you go, your chicken alfredo.

Margie: *takes a bite*

Margie: I told you no salt!

———————

[at a grocery store]

Steph, putting a mop bucket away: There, aisle seven is all clean.

Margie: My baby threw up in aisle seven.

Steph: On it.

Margie: And clean up my baby too.

Steph: What?

Margie, handing Steph her baby: Clean up my baby.

———————

[at a furniture store]

Margie: I need a replacement part for this end table.

Steph: *checks on her iPad*

Steph: I'm sorry, that product was discontinued ten years ago.

Margie: Could you check in the back?

———————

[at a call center]

Steph: Wayne Industries customer support, how can I help you?

Margie: I want to cancel my subscription.

Steph: Can I get your phone number?

Margie: *gives her number*

Steph: There's no account under that number.

Margie: There should be.b

Steph: I don't see it here. Can I get a name and date of birth?

Margie: What kind of information harvesting scam is this? I'm gonna have a talk with your higher ups.

Margie: *hangs up*

———————

[at home]

Bruce: Hey Steph, how was work?

Steph: Normal. How was the school carnival?

Bruce: It was pretty good, except for Margie. Ugh, you have no idea.

Steph: *eye twitches*

921 notes · View notes

es-draws · 6 months

Text

Consume 20,000 calories in a single day and earn a billion dollars. How will you do it?

Inspired by the recent (non-feedist) reddit post

But some of you might not need a billion dollars to feel inspired to try this. What if you did try to finish 20,000 calories in one day? Here's my strategy:

Start with 3 solid high calorie meals:

Breakfast: Peanut butter french toast (4 slices, 1500 calories)

Lunch: Rice bowl (1000 calories). Lightest meal, since you'll probably need a break

Dinner: Pasta inspired by Cheesecake Factory, like Alfredo or Napoletana. (~2500 calories)

For drinks, never have just water. Soda, juice, Gatorade, and sweet teas are all good options. Five 8 oz servings at 200 calories each adds an extra 1000 calories.

Snack with nuts throughout the day. One ounce of pecans is about 100 calories. Have a few handfuls throughout the day and easily add 1000 calories.

Your secret weapon is going to be a shake, of course. This recipe is easy enough to drink - not too heavy, but plenty of calories. Milk, cream, peanut butter, fruit, and of course, weight gain powder. 72 ounces to drink throughout the day, four pints total, enough to spread out with and between your meals. 12,000 calories.

That's 19,000. Top yourself off with spoonfuls of peanut butter or ice cream to push through to the finish, each one has about 100 calories each.

20,000 calories consumed in one day.

Claim your $1 billion and enjoy the growing fruits of your labors 😈

#es-answers #es-thinks

155 notes · View notes

judgementdaysunshine · 1 year

Note

May I please request headcanons for Bruce, Damian, Dick, Jason, and Tim With an s/o who is a cat lover? <3 🐈💗🎀 ( When you can or have time :3 )

Omg of course anon ♥️

Tim

He grew up with a dog and cat for years until his parents died and the animals were given away

He knew right after meeting you how much of a big animal lover you were after you found a cat and despite some of the team being cautious mostly because some of them had never seen a cat up close or knew what they were until others explained it to them

Slowly with time the orange cat you found became the team pet and you all named him Alfredo and he was everyone's furry friend always going around for pets and sounding like he talked to everyone

Not too long after the two of you started dating you had thought about getting a pet to help not only with your depression but for both yours and tim's anxiety but you waited for awhile and soon you both got a white cat you named milkshake from her love of ice cream

The two of you would lay on the floor or one of your beds reading or watching tv petting her while she purrs gently making biscuits on the blanket or one of you feeling the quiet bliss

Dick

He was a natural animal lover for as long as he can remember trying to bring home every stray he found and take care of them even when bruce found out and reluctantly let him have the animal or keep it for a few days before taking it to the local no kill shelter

He immediately fell in love with both your cats Buttermilk and Cookie who you had for years since you were 12 cookie being given to you as a Christmas present from your grandparents and buttermilk from your older sister on your birthday

The two of you both found strays and would take them to the shelter after nursing them back to health or give them to friends or your family members

He soon surprised you with a small kitten he found that the two of you named Kagome from your love of japanese animes

Jason

He always had a soft spot for animals having his own dog Ace who always helped him with life and his own mental state after all he went through

He also developed a bond with your calico kitten named Mitten who always liked to sleep on your chest or belly under the covers and soon she started sleeping in jay's hoodie sleeves and beside his neck

The next thing you knew that sometimes you would get pictures from Dick or Tim with him holding a stray cat or asleep on a roof with a kitten in his jack making you smile saving every picture

Damian

He had quite a bit of pets growing up and still had some of them including his dog Titus who he had ever since being under Bruce's care and training

He immediately had a bond with your orange cat Pancake and was always petting or holding the cat or even sharing abit of his food with him whenever you weren't looking

After awhile of the two of you being together and moving in to a house you surprised him with a new cat you got from the shelter that he ended up naming Iris due to one eye being brown and the other being yellow

And both of the cats got along well even sleeping on your pillows when the two of you were asleep one sleeping beside you and the other beside him

Bruce

He liked animals he just never really had any growing up he can say that he only had 3 pets throughout his life all of them when he was younger

The first one being a hamster his parents got him for his birthday that he had two years before they died,the second one was from Alfred a couple of months after his parents died and that one was a rabbit that helped him quite a bit,and the last one was when he was a teenager that used to be his friend's pet but couldn't care for it anymore and the last one was a rat

You decided as a surprise for his birthday even though you had only been together for 4 months to get him a cat that you thought would help him

When he saw the fluffy brown cat in your lap he was confused but over the next while he soon was holding the cat and even named it brownie

Soon the cat was stuck to him from sleeping next to him,rubbing his leg in the batcave,or even just playing with his cape which made you giggle

#damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne #dick grayson x reader #jason todd #batfamily #tim drake #bruce wayne x reader #damian wayne #jason todd x reader #batfamily x reader #dick grayson #tim drake x reader

440 notes · View notes

topgun-imagines · 1 year

Text

Scared

Requested: no

Summary: A fight between you and your fiancé spirals out of control.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: angst. Slight mentions of abuse? Not major but still there. Flinching. Couples fighting. Arguments. Cuts. Blood. Crying. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Pairings: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

It had been a day from hell since this morning. First, Ice’s alarm hadn’t gone off, making him almost late for work. Then, he had to scramble out the door and was left without his morning coffee. You could only assume that this would make him extremely upset. With Tom’s recent promotion came an abundance of new responsibilities. You should have expected that these responsibilities would cause him to have to work insane hours just to keep up. You prayed that today would be an easy day. He could definitely use it after this morning.

You had spent your day cleaning the house and running errands. By the end of the day, you were exhausted, having had a terrible sleep the night before. Now, you were starting on dinner for the two of you. You were making Tom’s favorite; a creamy alfredo penne pasta with steamed carrots on the side. It was his mother's recipe and you knew that she would always use it to cheer her son up. You were hoping that it would work in this instance as well. You followed the recipe exactly, not wanting anything else to go wrong today. The sauce was now finished and simmering on the stove while the pasta and carrots finished.

Just as you moved to strain the pasta, you heard the front door open before slamming harshly. You mentally cursed, knowing that his day at work must not have been easy. Trying to find a positive in the situation, you focused on the fact that he was home early for once. You quickly set the table before untying your apron and setting it on the back of your chair. Just as you glanced up, Ice walked into the room. He barely spared you a glance as he moved to set his papers on the counter. Normally, you would ask him not to, but given the current situation, you bit your tongue.

Tom turned back around and sat at the table. “How was your day?” You questioned quietly. He sipped on his water slowly as you waited for him to answer. You returned to the food, pulling the pot of pasta off the burner and moving to strain it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He finally spoke. Instinctively, you froze in your spot. The only time that you had heard that tone before was at the O club when somebody who had gotten too handsy with you. Never had it been directed at you, however. You dished the two of you up in silence, eyes trained firmly on the plates in front of you. Wordlessly, you set the plate down in front of Ice.

You took a seat across from him as he began eating. You waited for him to say something, anything, to reassure you that the meal was good. When he said nothing, a soft sigh escaped you. You began eating your own food, getting lost in your head as you thought of ways to salvage the day. The two of you finished your meal in silence. The only sounds that could be heard throughout the room were the sounds of forks scraping and soft breathing.

Before you knew it, you were clearing the table and moving the dishes to the sink. Tom brought his papers to the table and began shuffling through them. At least he didn’t run away as soon as his plate was empty. The pair of you continued to work in silence. It was once again silent in the kitchen, like it had been for most of the evening. You had almost finished washing up the dishes when it happened. If you ever needed proof that a person created what they feared, this was a perfect example.

You tensed as the glass that you were putting away slipped out of your hand. It was as if time stopped as it moved toward the ground. The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the entire kitchen, causing you to freeze instantly. The next thing you knew Ice was throwing his reading glasses onto the table and pushing himself out of his chair. You waited with bated breath for what he was going to say. “Are you serious?” Your eyebrows shot up instantly. What the hell did he mean by that? It’s not like you meant to drop the glass.

“Tom, I’m sorry, but-“ He held his hand up. With one motion, your words died in your throat. You swallowed quietly. You weren't scared of him but after the events of today, you had no idea what to expect.

When his hand lowered, you were left staring at a man that you hadn’t seen before. There was a dark look in his eyes that was unnerving. You swallowed slightly as you waited for him to speak. “How hard is it to put a glass in the cupboard?” His question left you baffled. Did he seriously blame you for this? You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the blood trickling down your leg. A piece of glass must have cut you. “My god.” He exclaimed roughly, dragging a hand up to run through his hair. What happened next left both of you stunned.

At the sudden movement of his hand, you jumped, moving back and knocking into the counter. Ice slowly brought his hand down, staring at you in shock. Any trace of annoyance was wiped from his face, replaced with what could only be described as concern. You stared at him in pure fear, your hands shaking steadily at your sides. Tears sprung to your eyes as you realized what had happened. “Baby I’m so sorry,” Tom whispered. You continued to stare at each other as the tears made their way down your face. When he moved to step closer to you, you shook your head with a sob. He instantly froze, not wanting to hurt you anymore than he already had. “Honey, you know I would never, ever hurt you. You know that, right?” You could only nod, tears still trailing down your cheeks.

You slowly moved away from the counter and towards the exit of the kitchen. Ice watched you with tears lining his own eyes as you moved out of the room. “I just need some space.” You whispered shakily. He could still clearly hear the fear in your voice. He could only nod as you walked out of the kitchen, hearing you rush up the stairs moments later. Ice spent the next few hours sitting at the table, head between his hands as he thought of ways to make it up to you. What killed him the most was knowing that you were upstairs, scared of him and crying because of what he did. He needed to figure out how to fix this.

a/n: Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open.

722 notes · View notes