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fairyysoup · 11 months

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i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself.

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something.

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you.

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again.

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder.

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway.

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you.

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it.

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does.

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will.

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive.

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again.

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying.

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will.

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him.

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you.

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.”

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience.

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?”

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing.

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth.

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile.

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?”

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night.

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.”

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.”

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.”

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens.

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face.

Steve Harrington is touching your face.

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him.

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile.

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer.

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana.

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it.

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation.

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you.

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.”

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.”

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.”

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?”

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.”

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror.

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he’s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself.

You like it a lot.

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours.

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.”

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.”

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?”

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night.

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own.

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?”

“I wish.”

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return.

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted.

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?”

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?”

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away.

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly.

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!”

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?”

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.”

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him.

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.”

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy.

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count.

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.”

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section.

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.”

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals.

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly.

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking.

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers.

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst.

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.”

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack.

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop.

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices.

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant.

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.”

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.”

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.”

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York.

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt.

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm.

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.”

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?”

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.”

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps.

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date.

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away.

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me.

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel.

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying.

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite.

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones.

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time.

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things.

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve.

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box.

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him.

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box.

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms.

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check.

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day.

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes.

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind.

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you.

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now.

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours.

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco.

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building.

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him.

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?”

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open.

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you.

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.”

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice.

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.”

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?”

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you.

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.”

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out.

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?”

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor.

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open.

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you.

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit.

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom.

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye.

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders.

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?”

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours.

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do.

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started.

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning.

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips.

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind.

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline.

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him.

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?”

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?”

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows.

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose.

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?”

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork.

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself.

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #roses*

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cosettepontmercys · 5 months

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“In light of everything that’s happened in the past three months alone, here’s some incredibly valid reasons to be pissed off at Taylor Swift, or simply not like her — as someone who loved her, and loved her music. First and foremost, Taylor Swift is personally burning a hole through the ozone with the amount of CO2 she uses. That’s not even the main point of this video; but this is a graph from 2022 of how much CO2 she produced of her 170 private jet flights, versus the average person. She has spent 70 grand on jet fuel alone. Taylor Swift, alone has used 170 tons of CO2 in the past 3 months. The average person only burns like, 16 tons. That’s not even the main part of this video. The main point of the video is the fact that she has not spoken up about Palestine. And the reason that is so fundamentally frustrating is that Taylor Swift has influence. Quote Brittany Broski, when she also didn’t speak up about Palestine — “if you have a platform, and you have people listening, you have to use it.” It’s criminal to not use it, and Taylor Swift uses it. This is from September 2023. Record-breaking registration numbers from one Instagram post. Literally stating, saying “I’ve been so lucky to see so many of you guys at my US shows recently. I’ve heard you raise your voices, and I know how powerful they are. Make sure you’re ready to use them in our elections this year!” They had a 72(%) increase in 18-year-old registrations. When it comes to Palestine, she’s completely silent. And now that it’s somewhat more socially acceptable to attend Pro-Palestine events, she’s been quietly going with Selena Gomez, but I for one, think that your Instagram is perhaps the best asset you have. If not, money. And I’m sure in a couple months, we’ll learn about how Taylor Swift was quietly setting up foundations for pro-Palestine, and that she was always for the cause and she’s always supported them, but all it takes is one fucking Instagram post. Especially when Israel Palestine is fundamentally a war of narratives. It’s whose story do you believe, despite the mounting evidence that proves that Israel has continuously been doing ethnic cleansing and genocide. They are still maintaining this narrative that they are not doing that. And all Taylor Swift has to do is say “hey, 22 thousand deaths in 3 months? The most in any modern war? This doesn’t seem right.” I don’t even want her to be that leftist or radical, but literally just to ask the question to her largely American audience, when US has bypassed Congress twice to sell millions in arms aid to Israel. Just for her to be like “Should that many kids be dying, perhaps?” The bar is on the floor, but she still refuses to do it. And the reason why Taylor Swift in particular, not because of the influence that she has and not because of the platform that she has, but why her in particular, is because the IDF continues to use her songs. I know it was a public trend, but the fact that so many occupation forces felt comfortable and confident to make like, dance edits to Taylor Swift’s music. I think it’s so important how an artist’s music is used because when the republicans wanted to use Eminem’s 8 mile track, he was like “absolutely fucking not, I do not give you consent to do that, and I do not associate with your politics. Don’t do that.” I feel like she should know that her music is being used as the anthem of the occupation forces as they go and bomb civilians. Her, and other artists like her, like Beyonce, who showed her film in Israel, and they’re all like dancing and singing, and saying “you’re not going to break my soul”, whilst they continue to bomb the shit out of civilians have said nothing. And I hope, as I’ve demonstrated in the video, for the people who are going to be like “What’s Taylor swift going to do? She’s not a politician.” Be serious. Be serious. She has a fucking chokehold on at least a billion people. She could’ve said and done way more than what she’s done, and also the CO2 levels." (from: this tiktok*)

* i tried to transcribe the tiktok since tiktok wasn't showing the captions for me but if i misheard anything please let me know!

#post: music #m: taylor swift #( i'm pretty sure i misheard a word or two but i listened like three times and tried to get this as accurate as i could )#( also her going to a pro-palestine event with selena gomez after selena's ... stuff ... to support a mutual friend ... was interesting ...#ts critical #taylor swift critical #ts criticism #anti taylor swift #(??????)

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fandom-wreck-9000 · 1 year

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A/N: wrote this cause I was bored<3 enjoy also no beta reader so sorry if it’s cringey ig.

Welcome home my Darling new neighbor (Wally Darling x Male reader) Yandere Fic

CW: Scopophobia, stalking, and kidnapping

Chapter 1: Welcome home website.

You lay on your bed in your apartment lazily scrolling through TikTok, you had just finished some college assignments and eaten dinner so you were bored and didn’t know what to do before bed. You noticed some videos about a company reviving an old 70’s puppet show named ‘welcome home’ there was art that was restored for the show itself, it intrigued you, the vast colorful array of characters, and the story behind the show itself and why it got canceled. Although there was one character that drew you in the most you didn’t know his name yet but he was the most interesting out of them all, he had yellow ‘skin’ and dark blue hair that was put up into a pompadour, through all the pictures you saw you noticed he was the one looking at the ‘camera’ the most, almost as if staring right at the viewer… Right at You… It was very interesting you decided to look up the website and look at it.

And so you searched it up and found it, the site itself was colorful and welcoming, but you got the nagging feeling that something was wrong as if something was staring at you through the screen. You shook it off, summing it up to nerves or superstition, you explored the site, finding out the reasoning behind the restoration of the show which you found heartwarming, and you found out the puppet that had you intrigued the most was named ‘Wally Darling’... “What a cute name, and he’s really cute himself.” you said truthfully a soft adoring smile on your face, the feeling of being stared at grew in intensity, and you decided to still ignore the feeling still notching it up to nerves… Yeah, nerves...

After reading everything and looking at everything on the site you closed the browsing site and looked at the time which was 1:00 in the morning, so you put your phone down and cuddled under your blanket staring outside the window for a bit staring at the stars, a smile curling up on your lips again. You felt your phone buzz and picked it up to look at the notification seeing it showed a random phone number had texted you, you opened your phone and opened messages looking at what the random number sent.

“Hello, Neighbor, how are you? What's your name?” The text read.

It seemed friendly and even comforting but the nagging feeling of being stared at came back, why did this person call you Neighbor anyway? Against your better judgment, you texted back… You didn’t know why but you did…

“My name is (M/N) and I am pretty well… Who are you?”

You patiently waited for a text back from the other person, and you didn’t have to wait long but the text that came back shocked you.

“Wally Darling is my name Neighbor, you have a pretty name I think it fits with your pretty face…”

“What do you mean? You’ve never seen my face??”

“Quite the contrary my Darling (M/N) I see you right now… your pretty (E/C) eyes are enchanting to stare into and your smile is even more breathtaking…”

You stared at the text frozen in fear, how… how did he know how your eyes looked?? This had to be some sick prank, holding back the bile threatening to come out you placed down your phone and searched your entire apartment… You found no one in it... No one at all... What the fuck was happening? You froze again hearing your phone buzz again…

And again…

Fear clenched your entire being, your mouth felt dry, you couldn’t move, you felt your heart beat wildly in your chest out of pure fear, and bile crept into your throat again threatening to pour out of your mouth you swallowed hard to try and keep it down. You flinched when your Phone buzzed again, your head slowly turning toward it in fear… you slowly walked back over to your bed and sat down. Hesitant to pick up your phone. You quickly picked it after the fourth Buzz and you looked at the messages he sent you…

“Friend, why are you searching for me where I am nowhere to be found?”

“No need to be scared friend, I won't hurt you.”

“(M/N) stop being scared and pick up your phone…”

“Friend I am nowhere to be found in your apartment please keep talking to me.”

you slowly and hesitantly wrote back a response…

“How did you know… I was looking for you… and how do you know what I look like?”

You kept the bile in your mouth down as best you could, for your body was completely filled with fear…

“Cause like I said I can see you… Don’t make such a scared face, c'mon keep giving me that adorable smile I saw before please??”

You were still shocked with fear, your mind began to become fuzzy and dizzy, and you laid down back on your bed, your eye’s feeling heavy. Before you completely blacked out you saw your TV turned on and something or rather someone came out of the TV and walked towards you and picked you up carrying you. That was all you remember before passing out.

A/N: lemme know if you want a second chapter or not lol

Link to chapter 2: welcome home

#fanfiction writer #male reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home wally x reader #x reader #x male reader #yandere #yandere fic #fanfic #fanfiction #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #digital artist #gay artist #oc artist

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blue-jisungs · 4 months

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charizard

author's note. idk guys ive seen a vid like that this morning n it made me really sad so :( ++ if u r interested, i wrote something kinda similiar w bts' yoongi (guys i see a pattern here but i just really love cats :( )

summary. your bf runs to u in the middle of the night whenn u need comfort after seeing a sad video of a kitty

warnings. like one curse, mention of the said cat being treated badly :(

sungchan was fast asleep when suddenly, he woke up – with no knowledge of why did that happen whatsoever. his heart raced, a gut feeling telling him that something was wrong. very wrong.

he grabbed his phone and squinted his eyes when the brightness of the screen hit him. it was nearly 2:30am, the time told him. sungchan’s gaze lingered on the wallpaper set on the discreet picture of you and him. then, he swiped to turn off the dnd and noticed that mere moments ago you shared a link with him.

he frowned and opened it, eyes landing upon a cute cat. your boyfriend smiled softly at the fluffy feline but then he noticed the text: “charizard’s small heart has just got broken after people returned him after adopting. reason? he peed in their bed – probably due to stress but ignorant…".

the pics of charizard – an orange stray cat – shuffled on the screen and it hit him.

in no time sungchan got off his bed, not bothering to change. only putting on his slippers and a hoodie, he quietly left the dorm and dialed your number. you picked up in an instant.

"hi" you sniffled through the phone and he smiled softly. he was right.

"i’ve seen the video" sungchan started, his legs leading him towards your place almost subconsciously. good thing it was just a fifteen minute walk.

"that’s just so mean" you whined, your voice at the verge of braking. he knew he shouldn’t be amused at this but he found it quite cute… you cared so much for a random stray cat that it made you cry "poor charizard… i… i wanna hug him so bad"

"i know baby, me too. the owners were just shitheads but i promise you, there will be someone who will give him a good, caring home"

"and what if his poor little cat heart gets broken again?" you sobbed. sungchan shook his head, the realization of how could it is and how underdressed he is for this weather just settling in.

"it won’t. the tiktok had a lot of views, im sure someone is willing to pamper him with love" he smiled softly. you huffed quietly, only your occasional sniffles on the other side of the line "im on my way, baby"

"cuddles?" you asked hopefully, voice still small.

"cuddles" sungchan replied, grinning.

when he was younger, he didn’t really understand the things people did for love. now, walking through seoul at night because you cried over a cat, shivering only in slippers and pjs, with you on the other side of the phone because– he knew it’s the bare minimum that he’d do for you.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

#sungchan #sungchan x reader #sungchan imagines #sungchan riize #sungchan fluff #jung sungchan #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize soft hours #riize soft thoughts #riize scenarios #riize sungchan #sungchan x you #sungchan scenarios

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londonfog-chan · 10 days

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I Will Not Keep My Mouth Shut About this High School Romance Between Eddie Munson x Reader (Headcanons)

Why lord? Why are we not talking about this?

I’ve dated metalhead guys in the past, and believe in me when I say these fuckers move fast.

Eddie is no exception to this rule. He loves hard and quickly, especially if you’re into the same things he’s into as well.

I’m talking balls to the wall insanity like: the day won’t even be over and he’ll have already asked you out, kissed you, offered you weed, and secretly be planning the names of the four kids he wants with you.

Mans is delulu as fuck for you.

As much as he has his passions there’s just something about the fact that you actually gave the town freak unconditional love that makes him desperate. Corroded Coffin, Hellfire Club, he’d pick you over them any day if it meant he got to keep you.

Guarantee, you’ll already have gone all the way before the weekend is up of that first week of the relationship.

Cherry boy cherry boy cherry boy.

But he knows what he’s doing. It will have been awkward but the best part is now “Rainbow in the Dark” makes you feel all hot under the collar and “Shame on the Night” makes you laugh and reminds you of the awkward panic cleaning up after.

The epitome of live fast die young. He will throw his life away if you ask him to, so make sure you use your powers wisely.

At some point Eddie will ask you to run away with him. He doesn’t give a shit where, so long as it’s with you.

Shared interests are probably how the two of you met in the first place, especially if you’re like me and unable to beat the weird kid allegations. You drifted towards his club because you for whatever reason were an outcast too.

Eddie would probably crush on those who are conventionally pretty, popular, the epitome of the 80’s beauty standards. That’s just human nature. But with you… it’s so much more different.

You’re like his nerdy fantasies come to life, like the princesses he writes about in his campaigns that are a mix of dark, dangerous, able to hold their own and fight for him and with him. Think of if you will a sexy bombshell rotoscoped into those old metal music videos. Facing the world wearing only red lipstick and a cocksure expression.

He would get along so well with someone who wasn’t afraid to let their wild side show, or to express it. But at the same time if you’re more shy and reserved, he is determined to help you come out of that shell and be the best possible version of yourself.

It’s impossible not to match his excitable energy, it’s just so goddamn contagious. It might scare you how far you’re willing to go for Eddie and how quickly you might find yourself changing. Because believe me, you will change, and it will be for the better.

Eddie will always be your number one hype man.

He will literally be so excited about everything you do because it’s you! The person he loves more than anyone in this whole entire world.

Eddie will literally put up with so much for you. Even if you guys fight he will struggle to maintain his composure because he does not want to fuck this beautiful thing up.

Drives himself up the wall with anxiety about it too. But that’s the thing about Eddie’s dynamic with you: is that he will do what it takes to keep his fucking cool around you.

Your fights are infrequent but can get explosive if there are unsaid insecurities. So to avoid this: keep honest with him. About everything. Don’t lie to him, because as fast as he fell for you, lying is the quickest way to break his trust and send him packing.

One of his flaws in the relationship is that his insecurity that this will all go away will make him all that more prepared to leave if you have a massive blow up fight.

Like he’s already preplanned his exit strategy and everything.

But the longer you’re together, the more comfortable he gets and eventually he settles down from jumping the gun into taking things one day at a time.

He’s a fucking keeper. And all I’m gonna say is you better start training with swinging a blunt weapon because once you have him, you’re going to be right there in the Upside Down fucking up some monsters keeping them away from your man.

#reader insert #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #help #I love him your honor #y’all will be on some delulu ass shit #I know I am #stranger things x reader #headcanon #headcanons #stranger things headcanons

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anothermansjeans · 25 days

Note

What about youtuber reader doing a Q&A?

this probably wasn't what you were thinking and i apologize for that 😭 BUT i will be doing a kind of part 2 to this based on another request!!

cw: fluff, spencer's sheepish, retell of how they met

wc: 406

youtuber!reader masterlist

A couple of days ago, you asked your Instagram and Twitter followers to send in questions for a Q&A. You haven't done one of these in a while, and your life has changed quite a bit since then, so now, you were sitting on your couch with the camera set up, reading questions off of your phone.

“@ livelaughlovey/n asked ‘what has been your biggest accomplishment these past few years?’ That’s such a hard question.” You bit your bottom lip, looking off into the distance where Spencer was reading, “I think allowing myself to be happy. So much has changed in my life, but self-love and allowing others to love me is one of the newer things.” You let out a sigh at the heaviness of your answer and searched for a lighter question.

“Oh, this one's great,” you started to laugh as you read the question, “@ acrylicnailed asked 'dying to know the deets on how you and spencer met… 👀’.” Looking back at your boyfriend, he seemed to tune into what you were saying, “I was klutzy and ran into him… making him drop…” you furrowed your eyebrows and targeted your words towards Spencer, “how many books were you holding, babe?”

“...seven.”

“Seven books! He then rambled on some facts about cameras and I found it cute and gave him my number!” Spencer was red behind the camera, and buried his head back into his book. “Okay, next one…”

And you continued the video, getting some serious questions to silly ones and a few that made you wiggle your eyebrows at Spencer (those included questions about if and when Spencer was going to propose). After you wrapped up and turned off your camera, Spencer closed his book, beckoning you to walk over to the big chair he was sitting in. The chair was wide enough so you could both be cuddled up comfortably on it, so he pulled you down and you curled into his side.

“I’m glad you made me drop those books at the bookstore two years ago.”

You chuckled and nuzzled your head into his neck, “hmm, are you sure you aren't saying that because I got a question about my favorite thing about you and I couldn't stop talking?”

You could feel his chuckle coming from his chest. “Maybe, but there's other reasons…”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his body, “well I’m glad I bumped into you too.”

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat @itsleilabxtch @strabarrybat @hiireadstuff @cherrybb-ily @wietske27

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #youtuber!reader

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cry4mina · 2 months

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Take Me Back To Eden - The Summoning (Part 5)

(Nayeon x Fem!reader) & (Mina x Fem!reader)

Take Me Back to Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1

Take Me Back To Eden - Granite - Part 2

Take Me Back To Eden - Aqua Regia - Part 3

Take Me Back to Eden - Ascensionism - Part 4

Word Count: 8.1k

Fluff/Angst/Suggestive

Summary: Y/N leaves Nayeon's apartment and gets a phone call from an unexpected person, resulting in a hang out session that quickly develops into a series of unexpected events.

TW: Cursing, teasing, momo is there for a second, mina is here, references to sex, making out for sure, abusive behavior (nayeon is crazy yall) a dream sequence thats a little wild, choking, crime, uh....jihyo is upset? its a lot lmao

A/N: We are taking an interesting turn in the story lmao. Per usual we are thanking the moots bc they listen to me rattle ideas off constantly and keep me sane while I stress myself out lmao @saiiidahyunee @nr1chaedickrider @miinatozakiii and @neoplatinum. <3 I also did not proof read this one as much as the others bc I don't have as much time on my hands now, so sorry if it seems a little off but thank you for reading either way<33

“Mina?” perplexed immediately at the idea of the quietest person you were acquainted with calling you, especially at a time where you were completely overwhelmed.

“Momo told me what happened and I asked for your number… I hope that's okay.” She's so soft spoken it almost shocks you to hear her say this many words at once.

Slowly coming to a halt at a red light while putting your phone on speaker and replying “Yes, that’s totally okay…uhm, sorry, I’m…a little all over the place right now.” mind flashing back to the struggle of processing what possessed you to let your guard down around Nayeon…again.

This was the first real conversation you were having with Mina, always around each other but saying few words, with the exception being pleasantries and small conversations about video games that had just been released or what lego sets she was currently building.

There was a comfort there, an almost silent respect for who and how she was. Calm, quiet, collected in the face of new company. Shying away from conversation but always aware of everyone around her.

The members of Twice, especially Momo, always teased her about being so silent. It was always in good fun, but there were a few times you stepped in to tell her to lay off Mina and to respect that she was on the quieter side instead of pushing her to the point of speaking when she didn’t want to.

It’s almost like she can hear the hesitancy in your voice and your eyes searching around you as you try to figure out what to say to break the awkwardness that was brewing. You weren’t exactly in a stable mindset at the moment, for multiple reasons and weren’t exactly sure what the phone call was for.

“I know we don’t really know each other too well but…uhm, I know we have some common interests and that you could probably use a friend right now…so I figured I would call and see if you wanted to get a coffee or something…or maybe just sit on the couch and play videogames or… something.” half way stumbling through the sentence, showing a little nervousness as she spoke.

Myoui Mina wants to hang out? The same Mina who barely speaks up during group activities, is asking to spend time with you? Not that you would oppose her company but it seems so out of character for this to be happening.

“That sounds…really nice. I’d love to. Would you…want to text me your schedule for the next week or two and we can plan it from there?” Smiling back at her through the speaker attempting to hide the disbelief that overshadowed most of your other feelings.

“Sounds good, I’ll text you.” sounding a little panicked, she hangs up as quickly as she calls.

She was right, with you two having a few hobbies in common, it was unfortunate that you hadn’t hung out before. Nayeon was always so “protective” over you that there were certain members she wouldn’t let you hang out with alone. Jihyo, for obvious reasons, Sana, and Mina.

You didn’t pretend that you understood why she was so adamant on you not hanging out with Sana alone until now. Hindsight is 20/20 and Nayeon was worried that you would find comfort in the arms of someone else the same way she did. The puzzle suddenly solved, the behavior that you used to view as protective, now unmasking itself to divulge its true form. Control.

You were simply a bragging right to Nayeon and nothing else. “Look how amazing she is, that she did this for me.” always bragging about you to her members, especially when Jihyo was there. Motive is only clear now, as you unfold the intricate details and analyze her behavior from your memories.

Possessive, controlling, and selfish. The behavior she showed you was very well disguised but small moments reveal the truth. Her covertness was easily picked apart now that you were close to having all the information when a loud horn blares from behind you. Looking up to a Green light, hitting the gas pedal quickly as you continue on the way home, trying not to get too wrapped up in your head.

Your phone starts vibrating again, being sure to check the name before you answer this time. Momo’s name lights up on the screen, “Speaking of the devil” huffing because you wanted to sort out this wearisome information you were pulling apart in your mind. Deep breath as you slide to answer the call.

“Hey Momoring, what’s up?” Putting on a cheerful sound in a bid to drown out the overstimulation you were experiencing, but Momo could always see right through you, being one of the people who knew you best.

“Y/n, where are you??” sounding a little baffled, and reflecting concern as she spoke.

“Uhm…” leaning forward to catch one of the passing street signs.

“Passing 72nd about to get on the highway…is everything okay?” showing worry for the way she spoke, wondering if you should change routes and go to Momo’s instead of home.

“I’m fine but I’m coming over.” hearing the car door slam, keys jingling, and the ignition start over the speaker.

“Let yourself in if you get there before me.” squinting as you reply, wondering if there are any visible marks on your skin or how disheveled you look, Momo would be sure to notice and say something.

“Perfect, I’ll see you soon.” Momo curiously laughed as the call ended which got you wondering why she was rushing over to your place as you merge onto the highway.

Driving on the highway at this time of day was easier than anticipated. Allowing you to get lost in your head as you continued on the path to home. Flashes of Nayeon underneath you rewind in your head, disgusted by your actions and stirring in your seat, revealing your sweater sticking to your back.

More flashes of her scraping roughly down your back as you attack her neck with your teeth, grazing them along her throat lightly, pinning her to the mattress, fucking her face and then just leaving afterwards. Using her as an allegory for taking back your freewill that you didn’t know you were missing.

The new apartment was brighter and warmer than the last, welcoming you back home when stepping through the door. The living room to the left and the kitchen straight forward, you happily look at the space you’ve decorated for yourself.

Most of the colors were different shades of gray. Black and white accents with hints of green displaced here and there, mostly by the plants you purchased wanting to have some semblance of life in the rooms, Nayeon never watered the plants so they always died but you were determined to integrate the things you once loved back into your life.

Two matching gray couches lay diagonally from each other with a long black coffee table filling out the space in between, your favorite bamboo candle in the middle of the table, a tv remote, and a few books scattered around the table, illuminated by the fireplace to the right of the seating arrangements.

A large flat screen mounted on the wall and a credenza underneath, holding the gaming consoles you bought for yourself when you moved in.

Nayeon was never one for video games and did everything in her power to keep you from playing them, even on your phone. Always distracting you when you were in the middle of a match, always standing in front of the TV in something lacey. Sliding her hand down the front of your pants while kissing your neck, as you tried to play your handheld.

Not minding it too much at first, she has an extensive lingerie collection and you loved to admire her in all of them, but all of your own hobbies got pushed to the side as time went on. A tactic to control that you didn’t recognize sooner.

Momo was already on your new couch, making herself at home when you arrived, walking straight to the living room and placing your collection of things down on the coffee table loudly, glaring at her like you had just seen war.

Looking up at you from her phone, she audibly gasps at the state of you. Hair completely tousled, tired eyes, light marks all over your neck, and your sweater on backwards. Mess was a really nice way to put it.

“I know what you did!” shrieked out of Momo's mouth while you’re turning beet red and fidgeting with your sleeves silently. Puckering your lips and trying to escape the awkwardness you feel as she gawks at you openly, despite your embarrassment.

“You look so red right now! I didn’t know if I believed Jihyo when she told me what happened but now I can safely say she was telling the truth” belly laughing at the idea of Hyo getting a taste of her own medicine and Nayeon being exactly who she showed herself to be.

“What did you just say? You talked to Jihyo?! It only took me like 10 minutes to get home and she’s calling people about it?!” surprised at how quickly the news traveled through the grapevine, wondering who else she called to tell.

“A pissed off Jihyo works fast. Told me that she walked into Nayeon’s apartment with you leaving, neck covered in marks” pointing at your neck, tongue between her teeth as she bites back a laugh, “and Nayeon, naked in the bed absolutely covered in bruises. Hyo said that she could barely get her talk…I take it you put in some work, no?” Poking fun at you while she laughed so hard she slaps her knee.

Hands flying to cover the unease on your face while collapsing into the couch adjacent to the one Momo was on, belly first, letting out a long whine. This was going to be a big deal and what were the rest of the members going to be told when you stop showing up to functions with Nayeon? Would Nayeon tell them the whole truth or just that you weren’t together?

Hating the idea of what you said to Jihyo when you left the apartment, knowing it was out of anger and halfway wanting to apologize for your actions but brushing that feeling off quickly. Needing to solely focus on yourself instead of trying to make anyone else feel better. Heavily empathizing with what Hyo might be feeling currently.

“Wait, so this just happened…like less than an hour ago?” quizzically asking like Momo didn’t already know the answer just to bring you back from whatever was going on in your head.

“Less than that actually” muffled by the couch and your hands while you spiral into an entire inner monologue about why, when you feel like it should’ve never happened, letting out a sigh and showing signs of stress.

“Jihyo is absolutely the angriest I’ve ever heard her, it’s kind of funny to know karma is almost instant for her. She did mention that she wanted to talk to you and asked if I had heard from you…I told her no but she didn’t believe me.” Momo interrupts herself to change the topic of Jihyo in all of this back to you.

“I mean…what happened anyway? You were anti-nayeon for the last few weeks, did something change or?” questioning your motive as she sees you distressed.

“Oh I know she’s mad and I don’t know, - I just went back to get the rest of my stuff and she was following me around the house,” sitting up and leaning back trying to relax. Stinging on your back, another reminder of the story being told, as you move trying to get comfortable while halfway wincing. Momo cocking her head to the side as you suck air between your teeth

“What was that?”

Eyes widen for a second, “Nothing!” expeditiously spoken.

“She fucked your back up again, didn’t she?” Half laughing again as you attempt to continue what you were saying.

“Anyways, she said she wanted to talk so I turned around and she just looked me in my eyes and kissed me…I didn’t really know what to do because I mean-” scooching to the edge of the couch and putting your elbows on your knees and holding your chin as your eyes dampen.

“It’s Nayeon…I know I shouldn’t care, and I’m trying not to but even if the last 3 years weren’t real for her…” choking on your words as they come out unfiltered. “It was real for me.”

More tears falling, this was a mistake. Reopening the wounds that were still healing as you sat with yourself, taking in the knowledge that people were upset with the choices you made didn’t sit well, even if those people were involved in hurting you.

Sad eyes sitting on the couch diagonal to you, realizing that intentions weren’t to hurt anyone else, as she watched. Momo wished she knew what to do in the face of this or knew what to say to comfort you, there was a feeling of sorrow in her, a space held for her best friend’s troubles.

“Jihyo also said that you had something interesting to say to her before you left” smirking and biting her lips, trying to suppress a smile. Bringing it up knowing it would make you laugh and momentarily forget the anguish you were almost drowning yourself in.

“Oh, did she?” replying with a snarky tone, unable to remember most of the encounter with Jihyo due to adrenaline, being angry with Jihyo for sleeping with your girlfriend behind your back, and wanting to get the fuck out of there before Nayeon could try to talk to you again.

“I don’t really think she will be much use to you tonight but you can try and, oh, I hope you like the way I taste.” Momo shouted back at you, cackling as she held her stomach leaning as far back into the couch as she could, pulling the sides of your mouth up as she continued.

“That is so out of pocket, but honestly, hilarious!” bellowing out at you as you start to giggle at the statement made, knowing that she was trying to make light of the situation but also appreciating that you said something so petty.

Originally feeling bad for saying anything, jaw tightening for a second as “An eye for an eye” wasn’t normally something you believed in and it wasn't really your plan to go and sleep with Nayeon, it kind of just happened.

“Hey, is it okay if Dahyun comes here after her schedule? She apparently got that call from Jihyo too.”

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask!”

A phone clattering against the table as it interrupted your conversation, vibrating twice before stopping. Reaching for it to see an unfamiliar number on your screen and a list of times and dates, a schedule? Mina’s schedule.

“Hey, I forgot to mention, Mina called me today” nonchalantly mumbled to Momo over the tv show she had put on in the background.

Gasping loudly, sliding her fingers through her hair, eyes bewildered while leaning closer, “She CALLED…you?” comes out of her mouth so quickly, surprised your ears could even break down what she said.

“Yeah, weren’t you the one who gave her my number?” a little disoriented by the response, as if she was surprised Mina contacted you at all.

“She doesn’t even call me and I’ve known her for a decade.” astonished that her adopted younger sister would reach out through a phone call and not a text…

“We are going to hang out sometime soon. She just sent me her schedule so we could plan it.” looking back at your phone to “heart” the text Mina sent and replying for the following day in the early afternoon, making sure to save her phone number in your phone with a little penguin emoji.

“Mina is going to leave the house?” stunned as you spoke about your future plans with Momo’s favorite homebody.

“I take it she doesn’t do that often either?” chuckling back at Momo while you open a delivery app on your phone and choosing a restaurant with a low delivery time.

“I’m hungry, what do you want from the Thai place down the street?” asking as Momo grabs your phone to put her order in it.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re hungry after the evening you had!” teasingly from behind the phone as she finishes adding her meal to the cart, and handing it back to you.”

“Momo!”

Waking up anxious on the day that you and Mina were going to get coffee was not a great start, barely any sleep in your eyes with your hands shaking, rolling out of your bed around 10:30am. Grabbing your phone, you head to the living room without changing out of your PJs and plopping down on the couch.

Turning on the TV and opening your phone to text Mina.

Y/N: Hey Mina! I woke up a little anxious this morning and I know we have plans today. Would it be okay if you just came to my apartment instead of us going out? 10:34am

Y/N: Maybe we can have a gaming day or something? 10:35am

🐧: Sounds good to me. Send me the address whenever you’re ready for me to head over. 10:37am

🐧: Sorry you are feeling anxious. 10:38am

About 2 hours later, after showering and cleaning up the space a little bit, you sent Mina your address. Wearing something cozy but presentable, wanting to make a semi-decent impression as this was the first time you were hanging out with Mina alone.

A small knock can be heard on the door, quickly walking over and opening it to reveal the small frame of Mina, backpack on, two coffees in her hands and a very shy look on her face.

“I know you said you were anxious and coffee probably isn’t the solution for that but I figured I’d grab you one just in case you did want some.” softly explaining the two coffees before hellos can be said.

“Come on in, make yourself at home and thank you! I’d love some coffee” as she hands you the cup and you take a sip. It’s exactly what you normally order. Just enough sugar to counteract the bitterness and a splash of cream.

Whipping your head to face her quickly, “how did you know my order?” happily confused as you gulp a few times and head for the living room with her gracefully following, after sliding her shoes off.

“I asked Momo this morning when you texted me. I’ve seen you drink coffee a few times when you were coming to hang out with us. I was worried you’d get a caffeine headache if you didn’t have some…” mumbled as you picked your spots on the couch, and turned on your console.

“It’s so sweet that you would think of me like that, Mina, Thank you.” genuinely surprised by the act of kindness. Someone you hardly knew went out of the way for you and that warmed you more than you anticipated.

Mina’s ears went red while you thanked her for the coffee. Embarrassed and feeling like she came on a little too strongly, before you mentioned you thought it was sweet. Fidgeting with her hands, walls down for a second, a gummy smile let out from her as she sifts through your list of games, choosing a fighting game.

Astounded by how good Mina was at the game, you tipped your fake hat in her direction. She let you win a few times before really showing you how good she was, getting more competitive each round you played.

Putting on a random movie and switching to handheld games on the switch you could play together, both of you sat for hours and talked about life, getting to know each other a little bit more. It was nice to spend time with someone and not have to talk about Nayeon.

There was a familiarity with Mina, something unexplainable about her presence that made her so calming. Hoping that you might ignite a similar comfort in her, the anxiety no longer sat in your chest as you got to know her more.

Learning a lot about her as she spoke of her family, life back in Japan before she was an idol, about how when her, Momo, and Sana went back for the Misamo debut, they went to her family's home and she got to eat her mom’s home cooked meals. Making mental notes of what her favorite dishes were and how she spoke so lovingly about the people she held near and dear to her.

“So, Y/N, I’m getting a little hungry, do you want to go out to get something or would you rather order it here?” The body language she was exhibiting was interesting, half closed half open. Arms lay in her lap by her switch but her legs were tightly locked. Was she comfortable here? Did she feel nervous about opening up so quickly?

“Why don’t we go out?” Suggesting while standing up, fixing your sweat pants. Maybe she just needs a little fresh air so she can relax. Suddenly feeling the need to calm her the way she eased you out of your anxiety unknowingly.

“Sounds good, there’s a new cafe around the corner, it’s a locally owned place. I think they serve Japanese food. Would you want to try that?”

“That sounds great, actually. I’d love to, especially after you talked about your mom’s cooking.” Her expression thrilled as she ran to put her shoes on, doing a little happy wiggle as she waited for you by the door.

You can’t help but chuckle at her. A glint of warmth refracting in your soul.

–

The cafe was only a block away and it was a nice afternoon so you walked side by side, making sure that you were the one closest to the street. Taking in the scenery of the new neighborhood, little shops lining the road around you from markets to touristy stores, hands unintentionally brushing each other.

“These shops seem cool, maybe we should come back another day and explore them.” Looking over at Mina as you speak, trying to pretend like your heart didn’t combust when your hands touched. The comment catches her off guard, shying into herself as you make the suggestion.

“I’d love that” whispered back to you. That means there will be a next time and that sparks joy in you.

Arriving at the cafe and getting a small table outside, ordering a bottle of Sake before ordering food.

“Can I order for you?” Mina asks, shifting her eyes from the menu, this was a test. It was written all over her face as she studied your reaction.

Squinting at her with a smile on your face, “if you’re up for the challenge,” biting back playfully. The second gummy slime shines off of her as she laughs at your terrible joke. “I think I’m up for the challenge.” competitively stated back with the corners of her mouth turned up.

Leaning into the menu, reading it line by line as she zeros her focus in. Watching the way the wheels spun in her head as you see her fold the menu and put it on the table, softly smiling back at you with a sense of accomplishment.

The waitress scurried over with the tokkuri and ochoko set, the ceramic vessel was bulbous indenting at the neck and expanding back out again while the smaller cups had a golden brown rim with a gray-ish green hue, sitting on the tray neatly.

“Alright, and here is the sake. Are we ready to order our food yet or do we need a little more time?” placing the rigged craft in front of you, and the smaller cups in front of each of you as her eyes flashed between the two of you to see who will speak up first. .

“Yes. We are ready to order.” Calmly said as the dialect switched. Blinking a few times at Mina while she ordered completely in Japanese to the waitress, pointing at the menu and speaking with her hands. Nodding her head at the response from the waitress as she handed her the menus and turning her attention back to you.

Gracefully grabbing the vessel with one hand, pouring your glass and another smooth movement, handing it to you as she placed the craft down on the small table.

“You really wanted dinner to be a surprise, huh?” Playfully before sipping the sake politely and placing it down on the table.

Picking up the tokkuri and trying to pour her a glass with as much class as she did, but failing when you looked up at her. Getting lost in her features as she watched you. “Was she always so…effervescent? High cheekbones, sharp eyes and a softness that was infectious an-“ Realizing you were still pouring, you abruptly stop almost spilling sake everywhere. Handed her the ochoko sheepishly after you had filled it a little too full.

“Maybe.” peeking up at you through her bangs as she took a small drink, chasing it with a smile and a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand that was sleeve clad, and turning red as her cheeks raised up.

Did she notice how you were looking at her? Oh god, I hope I didn’t just make things weird. A moment of panic in your body nags at you as she beams in front of you. Wow…she’s so pretty. Half mesmerized, half alarmed at your thoughts, your leg starts bouncing and fidgeting with your hands becomes your fixation, as they lay on the small metal table in front of you.

Lost in thought as you try to push away the unwelcome intrusion of nervousness, when a small velvet hand reaches out and gently places itself on the anxious tick that’s visible. Your heart skips. Eyes locking as you peer up at her, stopping in your tracks. A chill runs through your body as you take in the pureness diffusing the unease like the rain washing away blood stains on the battleground of your mind. How did she do that?

Internally realizing that you might have a slight attraction to the person you’ve just begun to hang out with, you’re slightly panicked by the idea of getting close to someone again so soon after Nayeon. Unfortunately, this realization played out on your face softly enough for the person accompanying you to dinner to notice.

“I’m sorry” uttered quickly as she pulled her hands away, moving your hands into your lap at the same moment. “I didn’t ask you if you were a physical touch person, I should have.” Mina is looking down now, seemingly worried that she crossed a line she wasn’t supposed to.

“No no- it’s fine, really. I do like physical touch…I’m just not used to it from anyone except for Nay-“ interrupted by the waitress bringing out your dinner. Slicing through the moment as she placed two similar dishes in front of both of you. Tonkotsu ramen topped with shiitake mushrooms, bean sprouts, bok choy, bamboo shoots, double the chashu, and a soft-boiled egg that’s split in half, golden yolk spilling into the array of rich colors.

Stunned as you look at the delicious meal in front of you, “Wow, this looks amazing! Did you get the same thing?” questioning as you finish off the last of the sake in your cup.

Mina notices and immediately fills it again with a soft smile. “Almost the same thing, I remembered you don’t care for the fish cakes so I had them swap my chashu with them.” followed by her finishing off her sake to keep up with you.

Pouring of the drink for her, this time focusing as hard as your brain would allow so you could get it just right under the eyes studying your movements. “You knew that?” amazed that Mina remembered such a small detail about you.

“Yes! You came to the studio one day with Nay-…” hesitating to say her name as she knows the wound is still fresh but attempting to cover it with a drink from her glass, “Her, and we all ordered from a place similar to this one and I remember you said you didn’t like the texture.”

Baffled was an understatement. Not only did this borderline stranger call you to check in and ask if you wanted to hang out, but she asked her friend what your coffee order was AND she remembered something that was such a small comment…

“It’s really sweet that you remember that, Mina.” both of you blushing as you continue to make small talk while finishing the meal.

Table cleared and on your second bottle of sake, Mina finally is brave enough to ask about what happened between you and Nayeon.

“Hey, Y/n? I know it’s probably a sensitive topic…but what happened between you and Nayeon? Momo told me that you broke up but she didn’t really mention why…” Alcohol gave her the confidence to ask the question you knew was coming all night.

“Well..” hesitating to respond, not really knowing the answer. You knew what happened, but not why it happened. Mina could see the soft sadness on your face as you contemplated how to answer her.

“Long story short, she cheated on me. The entire time.” Mina eyes widened, mouth ajar, completely in shock and frozen at what you just said.

“Oh my gosh, y/n”…I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling,” reaching her hand out to place it on your forearm, rubbing her thumb against the softness of your sweater as she made sympathetic eyes at you. Feeling sorry for what you’d been through, what this meant for you.

It was as if the goddess fell from the sky as she laid her hands on you. Physical manifestations of feelings developing as your heart pounded, breath quickened, and getting a little shaky. The sun beams through your veins as you feel the beams radiating off your face, a similar look on Mina’s.

“I didn't tell you the worst part.” Softly while she’s still caressing your arm. “It was the entire time we were together, they tried to cover it too.” Confusion, anger, sympathy mixed together into the melting pot that was Mina’s heart.

You didn’t expect her to be so emotionally available for you. Reserved was her middle name, why was she so open to physical touch with you? Ordering for you? Wondering if she was also feeling the fire that was kindling between the two of you.

“They?” Concerned tone wrapped around you tightly. It was almost…possessive. Body reacts by constricting your thighs together, you might like the possessive tendency a little too much.

“Nayeon and…Jihyo, actually”

Mina's face contorts into anger upon hearing the culprits names, hand still on your arm lightly squeezing now. Eyes wet with disappointment as she tries to hold back tears and comprehend how they could do that…to you of all people.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” Said so smoothly as if it’s always been what she called you. Pain sits behind her eyes, as she continues on “I can’t believe they would do that to you. You deserve so much better.”

Half wincing at her words, realizing they’re sprinkled with care that you weren’t used to, a sense of sorrow washes over you as you come to terms with your past relationship not being as healthy as you thought it was.

“You do know that…right?” head tilted at the question even if she already knows the answer.

“I don’t know anymore. This whole thing has been so life altering for me, it’s hard to have all these big feelings of love and anger at the same time.” speaking so candidly about the emotions you were experiencing, opening up to Mina about your internal monologue.

Continuing to drink the bottle of sake as the wind picked up a little, causing it to become slightly chillier. It was early November, so it was on the colder side. Shivering as you sat in the breeze, sun setting with golden hour brushing the scene around you and accentuating the beautiful brush strokes that composed the woman in front of you.

The bangs sitting a little lower than her eyebrows that were perfectly shaped, long waves more breathtaking than an angry sea extending far down past her shoulders to her waist, glowing skin that made her look like the embodiment of light, you can’t help but fixate your eyes on her and you’re a little too intoxicated to care if she catches you.

Standing up and stretching to go and pay the bill, Mina snatches it out of your hand and runs inside, beating you to it. Giggling a little harder than you should, when a small black compact car that was too familiar pulled up to the front of the cafe and parked.

Before you could even realize why the car was familiar, two women stepped out and stopped dead in her their tracks. Im Nayeon and Park Jihyo.

Jihyo looks like she's been crying, eyes swollen, lip still quivering as she stood next to Nayeon, who still completely covered in the imprint of your teeth and lips, clinging to her arm. Standing in silence, as the air stretches taut.

“Why haven’t you answered my text messages?” Nayeon abruptly breaks the tension. Jihyo’s eyes widen as Nayeon crosses her arms and taps her foot angrily waiting for an answer. She really was going to do this right here and now. She always lacked patience, this was a perfect example of that.

“I don’t want to.” flowing from your lips with a sour face like you completely forgot what happened the evening before, sake getting to you as you retort with malice. “Maybe you should take the hint and stop trying”

Scoffing at the comment, Nayeon shakes Jihyo off of her and walks up to you slowly while swaying her hips, like she always did at you when she was trying to get you to do what she wanted. Reaching you and placing her elbows on your shoulders as she twirls the hair cascading down your back. Skin burning under the weight of her touch, making you panic almost immediately. The disgust from before had returned in full force and it displayed on your face while she spoke.

“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” hand now sweeping a piece of hair out of your face, looking up at you with those big doe eyes “I know you miss me, just come home. I’m sorry you are hurting from what I did. I’ve been punished enough.” repulsed by the pet names and the attempts to win you over again.

Jihyo is uncomfortably shifting, sorrow now covered in jealousy as her lover tries to win back what was viewed as hers. Green was a lovely color on her but to wear it on her face the way she did, with no remorse, was a bold statement.

“Nayeon, I don’t want to do this with you in front of your girlfriend,” making air quotes as you say the word, “or at all really. So forget I exist and we can both just move on.” Attempting to move out of her grasp as she took in your words, not liking the reaction she was getting, she grabbed your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“So after 3 years, you’re really just going to leave me?” Slightly panicked, realizing you actually weren’t falling for her tricks anymore.

“Yes.” Stoically cascading and washing over Nayeon, rinsing away the confidence to reveal crossness and a hint of fear, while shaking her grip loose from your wrist.

“So none of it meant anything to you?” small drops of irritation on her tongue, thick like honey, while she studies your lack of want or care for her. Strikingly different from the person she used to know very well, never being met with walls built so carefully around you before.

“I think that’s actually your stance on it” spit back with malice from the guard tower at the top of the castle you built around yourself to keep her out.

“You know what y/n, if you think that you can just come into our house and fu-“ shock runs through her as she sees a figure stepping out of the cafe. The shadows hand reach up to link with yours, giving it a tight squeeze.

“Are you ready to go, my love?” Mina’s voice was a little louder than normal so both parties could hear after finding you in this tense moment. Her stance is defensive as she knowingly pokes the bear.

Jihyo and Nayeon are both completely gobsmacked by Mina not only being out of the house, but also by being with you. Hand in hand.

“My love????” Nayeon scoffed, tears building when she had an idea. “You can’t be serious right now, y/n. After last night, are you on a date with Mina? A member of my group? Do you not have your own friends to filter through? Did I not satiate you enough? …Maybe we should’ve gone one more round.” craftily leaving her mouth as she tries to cause discourse between what she thinks is a date…was it a date?

Jihyo doesn’t even try to step in or say anything, she just gets back into the car looking like her tears are about to fall again from being cast aside by the likes of you. Nayeon doesn’t even flinch at the sound of the car door, waiting for you to panic under the weight of the information just given to Mina.

Mina snaps back boldly “don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” Winking back at Nayeon while leading you down the road, back to your house, hands still together and Mina unphased. A small smirk appears on your face as you try not to laugh, not even needing to look at Nayeon's face to know that she was completely shocked by the comments made by Mina.

Nayeon tried to follow the two of you as you repressed laughter, shouting to try to get your attention again “Y/n! I can’t believe you right now! After everything we’ve been through? And Mina, you bitch! I can’t believe you wou-”

“Nayeon, get in the fucking car.” Jihyo grimaced while pulling the car up as she saw people starting to stare at the commotion. Nayeon rolled her eyes and got in. This wasn’t over yet, and everyone knew it.

–

Mina picks up her pace, giggling and tugging you behind her as she tries to get away from the disturbance plaguing you both. “I’ve never seen her so mad before, is she always that confrontational with you?” quizzically inquired as you both drunkenly sauntered back to the safety of your apartment.

“To be honest, I have no idea. This is the first time I’m seeing her react in such a way. She used to be so sweet to me before I found out about…” hesitating to finish the sentence, but Mina knew where you were going with it and just nodded her head.

“It must be really hard to feel like you don’t know her after all this time. I can’t imagine what that feels like. Someone like you shouldn’t have to deal with that at all.” boldly spoken as you reached your apartment.

“What do you mean by that?” Pressing into what she just said. “Someone like me?”

“The betrayal she put you through is ju-“ starting as she catches your eyes while you squeeze her hand.

“Mina, no, what did you mean by someone like me?” looking up at her with a sheepish smile as you unlock the door and step inside, hands still locked and still feeling the effects of the sake as you both waltz into the living room and find your spots on the couch, this time a little closer than before.

“…I-“ alcohol fighting her logic, letting go of your hand as she whispers a honey laced memory into the quiet room while curling into herself, showing the shy nature again.

“Do you remember when we first met? You went out of your way to talk to me, even if the other girls were trying to pull your attention. You even asked me about things you knew I liked to get to know me a little better and paid attention when I answered and the kindness you showed to all of us, even if some of us were a little apprehensive or even defensive…and then seeing the way you were with…her. I was astounded at the level of compassion and care that you gave to her, and to know what she did to you makes me view her very differently.” afraid to look you in the eyes as she opened up her chest, showing you a vulnerability that you’d never thought to see from her.

“I knew how important you all are to her. I wanted to make sure we all bonded because I thought…she was going to be the person I ended up with. Even if she isn’t, I’m glad it happened because she gave me Momo and now you. I feel like you were a sign from God” Grinning back at her, blush spreading through her cheeks as she smiled brightly back at you.

Both of you still feel the effects of the sake as you throw a random movie on to relax and unwind. Sitting so close together on the large couch that your arms are brushing against each other. She lifted the arm that was touching yours and placed it around your back and on your waist, you leaned into her and comfortably you both laid down, intertwined in each other.

Your head on her shoulder as she lays in her back, arm wrapped around your waist drawing small patterns with her fingers. One of your hands lightly placed where her ribs connect and legs intertwined as you slowly drifted into the most comfortable nap you’ve had in months.

—

Everything was pitch black. Eyes shifting in and out of darkness as you try to calibrate to your surroundings. A small metal table sits in the distance, the only thing that is illuminated and you can make 2 figures sitting around it, it looks like they’re talking but you can’t be sure.

Walking as quickly as you can through the shadows approaching the table, you try to shout out to them but nothing comes out. Reaching up to your throat, you hold it while you try to scream. Feeling the vibrations through your hands but not a single sound cuts through the air.

As you get closer to the figures, their details are revealed to you slowly. Shoulder length light brown hair facing the woman with long dark wavy hair. “Nayeon? Mina??” mouth trying to spit the words your lungs can’t bear to speak when Nayeon slowly turns her head to you, and says “oh, Y/n it’s about time you joined us” voice contorting, almost as if it’s overlapped by another. You’re forced to your knees by something you cannot see, and immediately smell sulfur, as Nayeon lifts your chin with one finger.

She stares into your soul, eyes completely black, as her face starts contorting and twisting, dripping off her skull. Wincing and looking at Mina to see her smiling back at you, illuminated in light.

A sense of calm washing over you, only for a second when you feel your mouth fill with blood. Still on your knees, you spit out what’s flavoring your mouth and all of your teeth come with it. Screaming in silence as you watch Nayeon get up and stand above you, grabbing your neck with both hands tightening as she holds you over a cliff edge, storm crashing around you and hisses in the distorted voice “you’ll always be mine.” Dropping you straight down into the ocean, you try to regulate yourself and swim up but it’s pitch black, swimming until you choke on water and snap awake startling Mina who was silently sleeping underneath you.

Hyperventilating heavily as you try to shake off the feeling of the dream, crying as you shake. Mina is immediately by your side, wrapping her arms around you and comforting you.

“It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe with me. Don’t worry, I’ve got you” as she rubs your back in a circular motion to try and regulate your breathing.

Your sweater feels very constricting as a thin layer of sweat covers you, you part from Mina and start pacing as you take the hoodie off leaving you in a sports bra. Following your movements with her eyes, as you walk around aimlessly, tears falling as you try to breathe.

Mina stands up and catches you by the wrist and pulls you into her, comforting you with a hug. “You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Body unclenching as she spoke and held you close to her. A warm surge of calm pumped through your veins as you sniffled, pressing your face into her neck.

Pulling back to look at her, you can see the concern mixed with something else in her eyes. Something you’d never seen before. Your faces are close enough to feel each other's breath as she looks into your eyes and then down at your lips, your eyes following the same motion.

Leaning in closer, lips brushing against each other before fully committing, you both shyly decide this is the path your friendship is taking. Her arms slide from your lower back to your hips slowly, pressing her fingers into your hips and pulling you towards her as your mouths find each other.

Her lips so soft, tasting of the alcohol you consumed and the tension that had been building all day. Her flavor was the taste of the divine, effervescently consuming you as she coded your flesh and bones with her scriptures.

Slow and passionate, at first, slowly picking up pace. Hands exploring each other's bodies as you familiarize yourself with the sounds she makes when you tangle your fingers in her hair. She takes control, which is something you never let happen, but it’s different with her. You actually feel safe with her.

Mina grabs your waist again and pushes you down on the couch, keeping your lips connected and she swipes her tongue across your bottom lip asking for entrance, given without hesitation. Her hands leave your waist as her mouth travels to your neck, biting down lightly as you whine into the silence of the room. She stands and removes her sweater, revealing a sports bra and her well toned abs, igniting a fire within you.

Kneeling between your legs, reaching for you to get you closer to her, pulling your body as close as it would get to her. Kissing picking up again, as you feel her wrap her arms around you, toying with the clip of your bra as she threatens to undo it.

“Is this okay?” asking softly as she scatters soft sweet kisses across your face. You nod your head yes but before she can undo the clip, a loud crashing startles both of you.

“What was that?” Mina spoke up, obviously bothered by the interruption but also concerned as it sounded very close.

“I’m not sure” you were still focused on her before she got up and turned around, heading towards the front door to see what was going on.

“Y/n, you’re going to want to see this.” Mina says with a tone of worry. You run over to her to find a rock with a note tied around it shattered through the glass window next to your door.

“I’m going to call the police, please be careful, the glass is everywhere.” running to the living room to get her phone, and you stand there shirtless looking at the crime scene. Wondering how she found you, if she followed you back from the dinner you had with Mina.

Stepping carefully around the shattered sharpness scattered across the entrance way, you reach over to the note and slightly open it, gasping at the contents loud enough for Mina to hear from the other room.

“She’s mine” scrawled on it, in a familiar red ink.

Take Me Back To Eden - The Apparition - Part 5.5

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pennylanefics · 2 months

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Nighttime Comfort - Seth Jarvis

a/n: thanks to @human-trainwreck for the idea of the "best friend's younger brother" trope! i got the idea and ran with it and finish this in one night <3 if anyone has more seth ideas, send them my way! i had more ideas and definitely missed some things...part 2 maybe?? 👀

summary: you've always seen your best friend's little brother as just that, until one night, after thinking about him for months, everything changes when he comforts you after nightmares

warnings: mention of nightmares (no descriptions), slight age gap (i envisioned seth being 22 and reader being 23 or 24, so not terrible, but it's brought up multiple times)

word count: ~4.2k

“Seth should be gone by the time we get home, so you won’t have to deal with him while I’m out,” your best friend Daisy says to you as you near her home. The two of you had been out shopping all day, finally having time to spend with each other after your hectic schedules failed to line up for so long.

With your job at a local publishing company and the influx of demands your boss needed to meet the proper deadlines, and her traveling with her boyfriend, who is a hockey player in the NHL, it was hard to meet up. But finally, now that the off-season is here and your work has slowed down some, you could meet up and catch up on all the lost time.

“You know I don’t mind him,” you tell her. “He’s fun to be around.” She rolls her eyes at your words and you can’t help but laugh.

You grew up next to Daisy and Seth in Winnipeg and as time went on, you and Daisy became nearly inseparable, doing everything together and playing in each other’s backyards every day after school. That also led you to becoming rather close with her younger brother, only two years younger than you and her, but he was always around as their parents practically forced Daisy to include him.

Not that you minded, he was very amusing and a great joy; he was extremely chaotic and energetic, and was always trying to get you to laugh and mess with you in a teasing and fun way. Daisy was so embarrassed by him every time, but you truly weren’t bothered by it.

Things changed a little right before you entered high school. During the summer between eighth grade and ninth, your family moved away, although it was still in the same district and within driving distance, no more than fifteen minutes. It did hinder your ability to see her and Seth outside of school or on the weekends. Things did go back to normal when you and Daisy got your licenses and could see each other whenever.

As the years went on, things continued to change and shift. With Seth going into the NHL, and Daisy becoming a WAG for the Winnipeg Jets, you rarely had time to see them over the past couple of years, but through different interviews and videos of him from the Hurricanes and other media, you could tell Seth was still the same guy you grew up with and knew so well.

“I haven’t seen him in a while anyway. I think the last time was around Christmas, when he came home. That was almost seven months ago.”

“Believe me, seven months is not enough time away from him,” she grumbles, making you throw your head back in laughter.

He was always the life of the party. He could light up a room with his energy and sweet smile just by walking into it, and he’s cheered you up countless times after numerous events that upset you over the years.

And you didn’t want to believe it, but deep down, you always felt something more for him. Some little voice in your mind was screaming that he’s a sweetheart and would be an incredible partner. But you pushed that idea down for many reasons, one of which is because you figured he never would see you as anything more than his older sister’s best friend; it was an unspoken rule, really, and neither of you wanted to cross that line.

The two of you drag your number of bags into her house, where you were staying for the week since her parents were on vacation and your apartment was being renovated because of a flood issue on your floor.

“Just set them down and we can go through everything when I get back,” she states.

She needed to run an errand with her boyfriend, to check on his grandmother about an hour away and bring her the prescription she needed. That meant you would be alone for the next three hours or so, and after the long day you had, it was exactly what you needed.

She left shortly after dropping everything off, and in the meantime, you showered and then ordered some food. Everything in the house was calm, you were watching your favorite TV show on the TV, and it felt peaceful to have this kind of downtime after a full, busy day.

But that peace was quickly ruined an hour or so later. The time rolled around to 7:45 and in comes Seth and a couple guys, who you recognize as fellow players on the Hurricanes. Turning around, you stare at them, wide-eyed in surprise, and as soon as Jarvy takes the sight of you in, he shouts excitedly.

“Oh my god! What are you doing here?!” He yells, running over to you on the couch. Standing, you jump into his arms to hug him tightly, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne, a smell you’ve thought about every day since you got a whiff of it on Christmas.

“My apartment is being worked on and since Daisy and I haven’t had time to see one another very much, she invited me to stay here. I know she said you are back here for a short while, but she said you’d be out.”

“What, not so happy to see me??” He teases, shoving your shoulder playfully once you pull away from the hug. “Yeah, well, the guys and I wanted to go to some bars, but after sitting around we decided to come back here and play video games instead.” He points to the two men behind him, one who has blond hair and piercing blue eyes and one has short brown hair and deep brown eyes.

“This is Jack and Jesperi, or you can call him KK,” he points to the brown-eyed hockey player, who smiles sweetly at you and waves.

“Nice to meet you guys. I can move up to Daisy’s room if you’d prefer the living room. She’s still gone and I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about that!” Jarvy stops you from moving your things. “We’re going to the basement to play, we won’t bother you at all. Unless we have to come back up for snacks and drinks, but we’ll try to keep it down.”

Chuckling softly, you nod and watch as they file into the furnished basement, yelling and shouting as they go. Thankfully, the noise wasn’t too loud to distract you, so you go back to watching your show with no worry.

As the hours tick by and your eyes start growing heavier, you knew you should have headed up to Daisy’s room to get some rest instead of on the couch, although their couch was rather comfy. It was a large sectional, big enough to fit their entire family for movie nights.

You were curled up in one corner of the L-shaped section, under a soft, fuzzy blanket that was keeping you warm. The low lighting that you had set in the living room and with the quiet lull of your comfort TV show was enough to ease you to sleep, though you were unaware.

Suddenly, you are jolting up, your neck feeling slightly sweaty and clammy, your breathing slightly erratic and your eyes trying to adjust back to the bright TV that remained on. Slowly, you become aware of your surroundings and turn to find Seth sitting near you, a worried expression on his face.

“Are you alright?” He wonders, his voice low and calming, not wanting to startle you anymore than he has. “You were mumbling something in your sleep and shaking a little.”

Your hand wipes across your face as you shift your body to sit up a little. Being in the moment, you were finally able to get a really good look at Seth, since earlier you were too taken by the excitement of seeing him and meeting new people.

His hair was long in the back, but on the sides, you could tell that he had recently gotten them shaved down some, but the top section flopped over to hide that area; it was something that was visible when he wore a hat, and it was a look you always liked. His facial hair was newly trimmed, his beard slightly scruffy and his mustache somewhat full.

He was wearing an old Canes t-shirt, the neckline cut off to fit him loosely, and a pair of basketball shorts that were slightly smaller than usual, riding up his leg and showing a small glimpse of the tattoo on his right thigh.

“I-I was having a weird dream,” you murmur, taking a couple deep breaths. Seth moves a little closer, sensing all you needed was some comfort. “What time is it?”

“Around 11:30. Daisy called me and said something came up and she won’t able to make it back tonight. She said she tried calling you but you weren’t answering. Now I see why,” he answers with a lighthearted laugh.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to fall asleep out here. I should head upstairs.”

Seth thinks for a moment before he holds his hand up, silently telling you to stay put.

“Give me two minutes,” he says before darting off. You sat there, confused as hell as he ran up the stairs, leaving you alone once again.

You quickly text Daisy back, letting her know you had fallen asleep and everything was good, and that you’d see her in the morning, before reaching for the glass of water that had been left untouched for the past few hours and taking a large sip.

Minutes later, Seth comes trudging down the stairs with his comforter and an extra blanket, along with two pillows. He also had a change of clothes for himself, and once he reaches the couch, he piles everything onto the cushions at your feet.

“We’re having a little sleepover,” he states. “My sister ditched you so I’m stepping in. Plus we haven’t spent time together in a long time so we have to make up for it.” He winks and laughs at your shocked face.

“You really don’t have to do this. What about KK and Jack? Aren’t they downstairs?”

“Nope. They left right before you woke up. They’re staying in a hotel nearby so they’re gone for the night. Just you and me.”

After he gets everything set up, he runs off to the bathroom down the hall to change and when he returns in a pair of sweats and a different t-shirt, he sighs heavily and stares down at the couch.

“Okay, so I’ll sleep this way, and you can sleep with your legs out that way so you have more room,” he tells you, waving his hands all over. He specifically pointed to the spot you were sitting in, how he’d have his legs on the cushions jutting out and you would sleep perpendicular to him.

“Where would my pillow go?” You wonder, grabbing onto the extra one he had from his bed. You can’t help but smile at the scent that covers it, a mixture of Seth’s shampoo and conditioner and his cologne. His comforter was the same way, soaked in the smell of his body wash, a woods-y and earthy scent that you were most familiar with, similar to his cologne.

“Here,” he gets situated on the couch, his legs stretching straight out on the cushion. He places the pillow down on his legs and pats it, signaling that’s where you can lay. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, the three of you used to sleep on each other like this when you were younger, more innocent.

Not that he was asking in an inappropriate way now, but it was something you figured you’d grown out of. But being too tired and too scared to fight, you just laugh it off and get under the covers. He left his comforter for you and used the two blankets for himself, something you found unfair to him.

You place your head in his lap, against the pillow, and immediately, his hands start playing with your hair softly, making sure not to tug at any knots that he couldn’t see. He was more so twirling the ends for his own comfort, something you picked up on when you were kids.

After laying there for a bit, no words spoken between the two of you, the guilt of him being down here, keeping you company was rising in your chest; you knew you shouldn’t have felt this way, but he didn’t have to do all of this.

“Seth, you don’t have to sit down here with me,” you suddenly sit up, looking over at him. A hurt and confused look crosses his face as he adjusts his body.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to, trust me. I know how you used to struggle with nightmares and no one should be left alone after having one.” His voice is gentle and soothing, trying to get across the fact that he wants to be here with you, and it’s no obligation or issue at all.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you whisper. But he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Well I’m not leaving,” he shakes his head. “What’s going on? I thought it would be nice to see each other again and be with one another now that you’re here.”

You pause and let his words sink in. He was right. Why were you pushing back? But with one look into his brown eyes, lit by the soft glow of a nearby salt lamp you had turned on earlier, you were very aware.

You had fallen for Jarvy and now there was no denying it.

You think back to the last time you saw him, in December. You couldn’t quit stealing glances at him throughout the day, watching as he laughed with his loved ones and how bright his unique smile was, how much you loved seeing it and how you longed to be the reason he was smiling so joyfully.

How you longed to hold his hand and cuddle up next to him on the couch, watching whatever Christmas movie was playing on the TV, surrounded by your family and his, having him press kisses to your temple.

It made your chest feel all warm and fuzzy thinking about what being his partner would be like. Was he serious in times when it was needed? Or did he used humor and laughter to cope with everything?

“(Y/N)?” He waves his hand in front of your face, bringing you back down to earth. You sigh softly and grin at him.

“Sorry, was just…thinking about something. But you’re right, it is nice to see you and be able to spend time with just you…” you trail off, hoping the tone of your voice didn’t give your little crush away. He smiles at you and opens his arms.

“So how about we cuddle instead? I’ve been told I give wonderful cuddles in times of need like this,” he states playfully, which in turn makes you giggle. He gives you that bright, wide smile as you move your body, but before you can super comfortable, you motion for him to switch positions and lay parallel with you, so both of your legs were on the actual couch rather than the sectional.

Since the space was big enough, you both fit rather comfortably, once Seth finally gets settled. You curl into his left side, nuzzling your face into chest, your eyes fluttering closed. What you couldn’t tell was the fact that Seth’s heart was racing in his chest at the turn of events.

He’s now under his own comforter, your legs tangling with his underneath. His arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, and one is softly rubbing up and down your back underneath the covers. It’s such a sweet and intimate movement, and it makes your own heart beat faster.

Silence falls over the two of you, neither of you knowing what to say, but instead, you enjoy the silence and the presence of each other.

“Would now be an acceptable time to admit that I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time?” He whispers, avoiding moving in case you wanted to pull away from him. But to his surprise, you stay put, reaching for his right hand that was stroking up and down your arm.

“You have?” You wonder, a little taken aback by his admission, threading your fingers with his. He watches in curiosity but smiles as he feels your touch in his.

“Yeah. Ever since you came home from school that one day in eighth grade, I was in sixth. You said some boy made a comment about you and you cried to me because Daisy wasn’t home yet. I-”

“You started telling me all these strange things about what the kid does and how awful he is to try and get me to laugh,” you fill in his sentence, remembering back to that day as clear as can be.

Seth had started telling you weird things that were very obviously not true, but what else is an eleven year old supposed to say? He was making things up like, “he keeps his boogers on a piece of notebook paper in his binder” or “his fingernails grow so fast he has to have them cut every day, and then he saves them to try and get in the Guinness Book of World Records for most amount of nail shavings collected”. Outrageously ridiculous statements.

But by the end, you were laughing with him, forgetting about all the mean things he said about you, and thanks to Jarvy, feeling better about yourself, even though you knew none of what he was saying was true.

“I know we were never super close the way that you and Daisy are, but I could never deny my crush for you. I expected you to think it was weird, considering I’m her younger brother and that’s all I knew I’d be. But goddamn, seeing you again, especially in such a soft and laid-back setting, it’s reignited that feeling.”

You were truly speechless. You had no idea what to say. He really had a crush on you?

“Then I think it’s fair to admit that I also like you, but pushed it away because I thought you only ever saw me as, well, as your older sister’s best friend, I thought it would be weird. But I like you a lot, Seth.”

His hand drops yours and it comes to rest on the side of your face, gently bringing your chin up to look up at him. His eyes were filled with adoration and tenderness as his hand cupped your cheek, careful with the amount of pressure he was using, letting you know you could push him away at any point still.

“So when was the moment you fell for me?” He asks, that crooked smile threatening to break. Heat rises to your cheeks when you realize you don’t have a story similar to his.

“This past holiday season. When you came home for Christmas, I realized quite a few things, and one of them is I can’t deny that I have feelings for you and wish what it would be like to be yours,” you whisper to him, gazing into his eyes. His thumb rubs against the apple of your cheek as you explain your side. He then takes a moment to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and it sends your heart into a frenzy.

“Oh really?” He pushes in a teasing manner. “Like what?”

“Like falling asleep in your arms, but in a more romantic way than platonic way when we were younger. Being able to come up and hug and kiss you whenever, wearing your jersey to your games, knowing that only you and I know that I’m yours and the most important person in the crowd wearing your number.” He can’t help the blush that dusts his cheeks at your last comment. “And I can assume that’s something you’ve thought about plenty of times, right?”

Seth laughs and nods his head, still looking down at you with so much love.

“I won’t lie, I have. And you’d be able to get a WAG playoff jacket, and how adorable you’d look in them.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as he continues to hold your cheek in his hand.

“You know, my parents always joked with your parents about when we’d get together. And Daisy always shut them down whenever she heard them talk about it because how weird, right? But there was one night, a few years back, right before I was drafted. We were in the backyard, looking up at the stars, and she told me I should go for it with you, if I liked you. How she thought we’d be good together, how I’d treat you right and how you would love me for as I am. I think she could always sense that I liked you more than a friend, but was too scared to say it because you two were friends first, and pretty close.”

You are stunned by his words. You never knew Daisy said that, but to hear that she thought her brother was good enough for you, you knew that this decision, or whatever outcome for tonight was going to be, it was going to be a good choice.

Seth is a good guy, and you’ve seen this for many years. Now, you are seeing him in a different light, one where his smile sends butterflies to your stomach rather than a simple “Daisy’s younger brother is so adorable” kind of way. One where you got to see the fun and excitable, puppy-dog energy side but also his serious and down-to-earth side where he could settle those feelings and be real with you.

“Now that I think about it, around that time she did start trying to push me for gossip on if I thought you were cute or if I was seeing anyone, because she was wanting to set me up with someone. And I’m going to safely bet that it was you.”

He chuckles and then clears his throat, becoming all serious again. But you have one more comment you need to get out.

“I love your smile,” you state. His cheeks redden slightly and your own smile tugs at your lips. “I’m not sure what it is about it, but every time I saw it in an interview, or some fun little video, and especially at Christmas, I can’t help but fall harder and harder each time.”

Your statement elicits that lovely smile from him, but in a more bashful sense, something you never thought you’d see.

“You’re so adorable,” you giggle, reaching up to hold his face in your hand as well. The tension between the two of you was thick, and with your breathing mixing together, you were starting to get dizzy from it all.

This was all so much.

“Can I…” he starts, but hesitates, trying to gauge the look in your eyes. He takes a deep breath and then continues. “Can I please kiss you now?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you from how he phrases his words. He sounded so desperate but also so careful.

“Please,” you beg quietly, inching your hands into his hair to tug at the locks at the back of his neck to pull him down towards you. Within seconds, your lips meet in a searing but gentle and nervous kiss, both of you testing the waters for now. But when Seth feels you leaning more into it, he deepens it just slightly, not wanting to go too far tonight, but also wanting you to know he’s serious about this and it wasn’t a one-off thing.

The kiss ends much to your dismay when Jarvy pulls back, his forehead resting against yours.

“Go on a date with me,” he all but demands. This elicits a giggle from you before you kiss him once more.

“Of course I will,” you reply, moving down to cuddle back up with him.

Finally, the two of you were settled in all cozy, no longer on edge and wondering if one thing is going to upset the other. Now that the admission of your feelings was done and over with, the two of you could relax against each other, knowing this meant more than just two friends falling asleep with one another.

With his soft touch running along your back, soothing you to sleep, you were out like a light in minutes, but Jarvy stayed up, watching whatever episode of your show that was on, often looking down at you to make sure you remained asleep.

He fell asleep not long after, the grin on his face remaining there like it was stuck forever, holding the person he loves most in the world, feeling like he was on cloud nine, knowing life could only get better now that you two had admitted your years-worth of pent up feelings

#seth jarvis #seth jarvis imagines #seth jarvis x reader #seth jarvis imagine #seth jarvis fanfic #hockey #hockey fanfic #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

Steve very rarely gets sick. He prides himself on it.

But when Eddie spent three days in a row in bed with a fever, puking every time he got up, and coughing everywhere he could reach, Steve had no choice but to stay and take care of him. Which meant he spent three days in direct contact with whatever virus decided to leave Eddie bedridden.

Halfway through his shift at Family Video, he turned to Robin and said he was going to pass out.

She didn’t believe him, laughed it off like he was being dramatic. “You’ve been hanging around Eddie too much lately.”

So when he passed out five seconds later, she panicked. He opened his eyes to her frantically trying to move him onto his side.

“Robs, ‘s not a seizure.”

“Right, but what if you puke?”

“I’m just dehydrated.”

He wasn’t just dehydrated.

He was dehydrated and feverish and exhausted.

He was sick.

Robin called Eddie to come pick him up, rambling nervously over the phone about his symptoms. Steve couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he knew Eddie was probably laughing at the situation.

“He’ll be here to get you in 10 minutes. Can you please not pass out again because I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell my brain to hold off until Eddie’s here.”

“Thanks.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he settled on the floor behind the counter. Robin wouldn’t let him stand up again in case he fell and hit his head, which was actually probably a smart move.

When Eddie arrived, he took one look at Steve on the floor and sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I warned you, Stevie! I said ‘you’re gonna get sick, you shouldn’t stay’ and what did you do? Mommed yourself right into the flu.”

Steve didn’t dignify that with an answer, mostly because it would take too much energy to give one. He stood on shaking legs and made his way to the door.

He felt so weak, he barely registered when his knees started to buckle. Strong arms wrapped around him from behind and held him up.

“Jesus, Steve. Were you feeling this bad when you left home?”

Steve shook his head and let out an embarrassing whine. His head was throbbing, a dull ache set in shortly after he got to work, and only got worse after he passed out.

“Can you make it to the van or do you need me to carry you?”

“I can make it, just…help?”

Eddie kept an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist, supporting most of his weight as they walked to his van. He opened the passenger side door and helped Steve get seated and as comfortable as possible.

Steve let out another small whine when he realized he would have to move to buckle himself in.

“What’s wrong?”

Eddie was so nice. Maybe he could buckle him.

“Belt?”

Eddie wordlessly reached for the belt and buckled Steve in, his hair brushing along Steve’s cheek and chest as he pulled away.

Steve repressed another whine, though for a different reason, when Eddie’s hand brushed against his thigh.

His thighs were sensitive, even in jeans. Sue him.

Steve nodded off during the drive to his house, barely aware of Eddie singing along to something on the radio.

When they arrived, Eddie unbuckled Steve’s seatbelt and helped him out of the van. He was saying something to Steve, but his brain wasn’t processing any of it.

He could barely keep his eyes open while Eddie got him upstairs and into bed.

He could feel Eddie’s rough hands gently pulling off his jeans and shirt, but couldn’t offer much help.

Passing out really did a number on him.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

Oh. Steve said that out loud. Interesting.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you? Get sick and it’s like your brain’s melted out your ears.”

Steve let out a giggle before relaxing against his pillow.

Eddie started to tuck him in, pulling his covers up to his chin and brushing a piece of hair away from his face.

“I’m gonna get you some water. You hungry?”

Steve felt his stomach turn at just the thought of food touching his mouth. He used all of his remaining energy to shake his head.

“Be right back, Stevie.”

**********

When Steve opened his eyes again, it was too dark to even recognize his own bed. It’s been so long since he slept with no light, he felt disoriented and scared that the power had gone out.

Just as he was struggling to sit up, he heard a grumble from the floor followed by a groan.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I’ll get the light.”

Before Steve could process who the voice belonged to, his bedside lamp turned on and covered him in a golden glow.

Eddie.

The room started spinning around him before he could say anything. He closed his eyes to avoid the disorientation, but it only made it worse.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. I’ve got ya.”

And he did. Eddie’s arms were wrapping around Steve and pulling him against his chest, solidifying his presence in one place despite everything else in the room moving.

Steve melted into Eddie, breathing in the faint leather and smoke smell that never failed to make him feel safe.

“You just have no filter when you’re sick, huh?”

Eddie laughed softly, brushing his lips against the top of Steve’s head.

Steve didn’t give a response, not able to actually produce words when he wants to, apparently.

“You’re burning up. I got some Tylenol for you while you slept. You should take some now and try to rest.”

“Stay?”

Eddie didn’t respond, just moved to grab the water from the table and hand it to Steve. He watched as he took the Tylenol, telling him he did a good job before putting the water back on the table.

Just as Steve settled against Eddie’s chest again, he was moved away by strong hands.

The whimper he let out stopped Eddie in his tracks.

“Are you in pain? Robin said your migraines get so bad sometimes you can’t move. Is that happening?”

Steve shook his head, immediately regretting doing so when the room started spinning again.

“Stay.”

It only took a moment for Eddie to adjust them both so they could lay down together. Steve wasted no time in curling into Eddie’s side, and Eddie’s hand found it’s way to Steve’s hair.

His fingers gently pulled through some of the tangles, smiling to himself when Steve couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“Feel okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Can’t believe you let me get you sick.”

“‘S worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

Eddie only hesitated a moment before dropping a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Promise.”

They hadn’t acknowledged the way Steve had acted when taking care of Eddie. They hadn’t talked about the cuddling and small kisses to his hair or cheek or nose. They hadn’t even been around each other since Eddie was feeling better.

But this felt like a turning point - no more ignoring the way they felt about each other. If Eddie was reading things right, Steve wasn’t just like this because he was sick and slightly delusional.

They’d have a talk when he was better, but for now, Eddie let Steve suction himself to his side and take the comfort he needed.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #ao3fic #shout at me about steddie #my fic #tumblr drabbles #sick fic #I actually started writing this one before I did the Eddie sick one with no intention of doing an Eddie one #but then I ended up liking the Eddie one more so that’s what got posted #I still don’t like this one nearly as much #but y’all are hoes for sick fic like me so come get y’all juice

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sosa2imagines · 5 days

Text

Broken Hearts. Part 3

Warnings- Fluff, Idea of hurting someone, threats, mention of sex video, possessiveness, manipulation.

Lloyd, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, suggested an idea that sent a thrill through you.

“We could attack Peggy,” he proposed, his voice carrying a blend of excitement and determination. He passionately argued his case, emphasizing the benefits of taking action against Peggy. “Think about it,” he began, his words compelling and persuasive. “She's got it coming, and it would send a strong message. We've got the resources, the skill, and the drive to make it happen.”

Lloyd's enthusiasm was contagious, and his argument fuelled the fire within you, making the idea a tantalizing possibility.

Your response to Lloyd's suggestion was a light-hearted laugh, though the temptation to follow through tickled the backlines of your mind. “No.” you firmly denied, your voice tinged with amusement. Despite the momentary flash of excitement, you knew deep down that attacking Peggy wasn't the right course of action.

As Lloyd continued to argue in favor of attacking Peggy, Andy stepped in with a firm reminder. “Hey, this is illegal,” he interjected, his voice carrying a tone of reason. “Even if we pull it off, Peggy can turn around and sue you, dragging you through a legal mess.”

Undeterred by Andy's cautionary reminder, Lloyd remained steadfast in his determination. “Because of her, my Sugar's hurt.” he asserted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and protectiveness.

“Lloyd, please?” “Fine Sugar.”

“It is funny, how he only listens to you, but not us.” Andy jokes, making Lloyd give him a death glare. You roll your eyes playfully, “Anyway, I have to go to meet May and her family.” You announce. “You're not going out, Sugar...” Lloyd said firmly, his protective instincts kicking in. His voice carried an edge of worry. Relax, I'll be fine. It's just May and her family, Nick is coming along too.” You gently tell him.

Your reassurance and Nick's presence seemed to soothe some of Lloyd's anxieties, and he begrudgingly acquiesced to your plans. “Fine.” he relented, a mix of frustration and protectiveness still lingering in his tone.

“Hey, thanks for coming with me.” you expressed your gratitude to Nick, a gentle smile playing on your lips. He responded with a casual shrug, his signature laid-back demeanor shining through. “No problem,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of nonchalance. “Happy to be with you always.”

You smile and looked down, feeling bad about not being able to go out alone, without anyone being with you. Simply because Steve is not ready to leave you alone. He refused to sign the papers. You even blocked his number, but that has not stopped him. Andy did manage to get a restraining order against him, using the footage from your aunt's house. But then again, he had influences.

Nick senses the change in your mood, he puts an arm around your shoulder giving a gentle press “Hey no being sad okay? Anyway, Lloyd would have bored me to death with his dick jokes.” He rolled his eyes playfully and that made you laugh, but the fear was still there, “When will I get to be free Nick? Why can't he let me go?”

“He is a jerk, he realized he lost the most expensive thing in his life for trash. Me, Lloyd and Andy will make sure he leaves you alone for good, so for now enjoy with us.” He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eyes “unless you are bored with us?” Nick acts, as if the last sentence made him hurt, and you acted dramatic, putting a hand on your chest “Bored with you guys? Never ever!” You laughed, shaking your head at his jest.

May and her family warmly welcomed you and Nick, their genuine smiles offering a sense of comfort. They took the time to explain the inner workings of the cafe, sharing details about how they had run the business over the years. It was clear that they had put their heart and soul into making it a successful venture.

May and Happy, went on to discuss your aunt's legacy, mentioning how she had always wanted you to inherit and continue the business. The conversation revealed their deep appreciation for your aunt's vision and the hope that her dream would continue through you. While Nick took a special interest in sales and was very impressed. You both got along fine, with them.

“I wanted to help my aunt… but because of my busy married life I couldn't help her.”

“We understand dear, you have nothing to worry about.” May holds both of your hands in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We also know about your husband…” Your eyes grew wide and Nick tensed, but May was quick to escalate the tension “Small town, but we don't judge you, even your aunt hated him” she tells you.

“Yeah, guess she was right about him… I was stupid to believe Steve.” you pity laugh, but May embraces you in a tight hug. It was a nice feeling and knowing no one is judging you.

After bidding farewell, you and Nick left for home.

“They are lovely.” You beamed. “Yeah love how the sales are good” Nick winked at you before focusing his attention, back on the road, making you roll your eyes at him.

Some minutes later you get a call from an unknown number you sigh, ignoring it, but it rings agains. So Nick tells you to pick it up thinking it might be important. “Hello?” “Baby doll, where the hell are you?” Steve demanded, his tone carrying a mix of irritation and false concern. Steve's voice took on a menacing tone as you remained silent, “Don't you dare hang up!” he threatened, his words laced with a threatening edge.

“Steve, please... leave me alone.” Your tone was filled with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation. The weight of his persistent presence and possessive behavior had taken its toll, leaving you yearning for the freedom to move on.

Nick kept an eye on you, along with driving carefully.

Steve's words carried an air of arrogance as he condescendingly asserted, “You're still my wife!” The audacity in his tone was matched only by his disregard for the pain he had caused.

You struggled to maintain your composure as Steve's words echoed in your ears, the memory of his infidelity and the betrayal it represented resurfacing with each syllable. Your voice wavered with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment, “Your wife? You lost that privilege when you cheated on me, Steve!”

Steve's tone turned even more demanding as he questioned, “Is that so? You're not going to obey me?” His presumption and entitlement irritated you, and you stood your ground firmly. “No!” you responded, your voice filled with determination and defiance. You would not bow to his manipulative attempts to regain control.

“You know... when Bucky left for London... he gave me a nice gift.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, hinting at something ominous. The mention of Bucky piqued your curiosity, but the sinister undertone of Steve's words made your stomach churn with unease. Your voice stuttered as you asked, “Wh... what are you talking about?”

“Bucky was kind enough to give me a video of you and him,” he taunted. “I was thinking if Lloyd and who's the other lady... oh yes, May, she works in your aunt's cafe, right? Maybe they'll appreciate Bucky's gift.”

“You are lying!” You yell on the call, making Nick stop the car on the side. “Oh, baby doll I’m not lying.” Steve laughs, before getting serious again, “Now we a good little housewife and come back to me!” “No no no no no no, please…” Steve ends the call and with your hands trembling, you drop the phone.

Nick was quick to hold your hands “y/n what did that bastard want?” “Y/n?”

As the weight of Steve's threat settled in, your world seemed to crumble. The panic rose within you, and your breath quickened. “No, no, no, no...” you repeatedly whispered, consumed by fear and disbelief. Your body trembled, and your mind raced with anxiety.

Nick, seeing your distress, reached out, gently placing his hand on your shoulder and attempting to ground you in the chaos, as he takes your hand and puts it on his chest. “Feel my heartbeats.” He spoke softly, his voice cutting through the whirlwind of your thoughts. “Hey, hey, breathe...” Nick implored, his tone firm yet soothing. His presence alone served as a lifeline, tethering you to reality amidst the storm.

With the echoes of panic subsiding, you found solace in Nick's comforting embrace. Confessing what Steve said, you sobbed, “I swear, Nick, I don't know anything about the video. I don't know what Bucky gave Steve...I swear. I..I..” The fear, confusion, and exhaustion overwhelmed you, and Nick's protective hold served as a reassuring presence, a safe haven in the midst of chaos.

As you clung to Nick, seeking comfort in his presence, he gently soothed you, his voice filled with understanding and compassion. “Shh, I believe you, okay?” he whispered, gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion. “How about we head back home, and let me and Lloyd handle Steve? We're going to find a way to deal with this, I promise.”

Part 2 - Part 4

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#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x reader fluff #nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #steve rogers au

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thehighladywrites · 6 months

Text

— “ me? jealous? of course I am…”

☀︎- pairing: Professor Eris x reader, part 2

☀︎- summary: Your secret relationship with Eris is going excellent, until Professor Jensen steps in and tries to flirt with him. Of course, you go ahead and flirt with your classmate as revenge. What do you do when you’re then caught by the same professor as youre bent over Eris’s desk, getting railed?

☀︎- warnings: smut, jealousy on both sides, getting caught, reader being called whore, public sex, PROTECTIVE READER, professor Rhysand is mentioned👀, Feyre being an amazing friend that helps reader scheme, blackmail, Eris realizing he is in love with reader, fluff, taboo relationships, both are obviously old enough.

☀︎- amara’s note: I loved writing this, reader is literally so hot in this omg, also this isn’t my best work but i really liked it anyways!! if u see any typos, your eyes are deceiving you🤷🏽‍♀️

Part 1

Hmm…

Black miniskirt with a white top or the beige pants with a knit sweater?

Surrounded by clothes, scattered across your dorm, you found yourself stuck between two outfit choices. Both looked good, but as you considered where you'd be wearing them, a mischievous smile crossed your face. Opting for an even shorter skirt, you couldn't help but anticipate the classes ahead.

After the confrontation with Professor Eris, you began meeting in secret, kissing between classes, fucking in locked closets, having lowkey meetings at his house. You exchanged numbers and found yourselves frequently texting too.

Well, sext is more like it.

The exchange of messages, if discovered, held the potential to lead to catastrophic consequences. The risk heightened the thrill and danger of the secret relationship, creating a clandestine affair between you.

There had been nudes and videos, audios and links. There had been some blush inducing texting, his words always sparking something in you. Eris was a true charmer, skillfully making you feel exactly what he wrote with a magnetic touch in his messages.

Dressing swiftly and slipping on your shoes, you and Feyre head to class. The only class you shared alone with him was Advanced Literature, but you also had Philosophy together, with Feyre joining in as well.

“You're glowing, Y/N. Any particular reason?” you heard the playful tone in her voice, suspecting that she must have some inkling about someone special in your life.

Shit, you had to be more careful. Feyre was vicious when it came to solving things, and she was one of the most intelligent people you knew. If you told her about Eris, you knew she'd keep it a secret, especially since she always raved about Professor Rhysand in International Relations. She might be a little weirded out, but she wouldn't judge.

“Okay, fine, I'm seeing someone, but you can't tell anyone, promise me. He's very, um, shy and he doesn't like to be around people. Maybe I'll introduce you guys to him sometime in the future, but it's still so new,” you confessed with a half truth, hoping Feyre didn’t see through your bullshit.

Feyre looked at you curiously from the side of her eye and nodded, promising that she'd never tell anyone.

“Is he at least good to you? I mean, he must be. I've never seen you like this before. You're happier than ever. Just please tell me it's not Ilias. He doesn't deserve you, and he never will,” she expressed, concern and sincerity in her voice as she grabbed your hand.

Squeezing her hand back, you assured her that it was over between you and your ex for good this time.

“I promise, Fey. It's over with him. I actually can't believe I went back to him so many times. I literally saw him yesterday in the cafeteria, and I nearly threw up; he was icking me out. Let’s just say that the guy I'm seeing is a bit older, he's really hot, and he makes me feel super good, if you know what I mean.”

You wiggled your brows, and Feyre threw her head back, laughing at your suggestiveness. You kept holding each other's hands until you got to class, finding comfort in your friend.

——

You insisted on sitting at the front, ensuring a clear view of your little secret. The desks were the perfect height, and when he sat at his own desk, he'd have an unobstructed view of your skirt. Just the thought pulled a sly smile from your lips.

The big doors opened up with a thud, and his steps resonated throughout the entire lecture hall. You looked at him and immediately had to look away before a blush crept up on your face. Eris was wearing black, sleek slacks that hugged his thighs and a crisp white shirt, showing his bulging arms. His shoulders looked so fucking massive,he looked so good it nearly made you drool.

He sneaked a glance in your direction before his eyes dropped to your skirt. He huffed a small, subtle smile and looked away.

———

Every time your eyes met, your stomach turned molten, and your thighs clenched. One look from him, and you'd honestly do anything he wanted. Throughout the entire class, you simply scribbled, pretending to hear a word he said. It felt like your whole body vibrated everytime he asked you a question, finding reasons to keep eye contact without anyone raising any alarms.

However, your little dreamy bubble was burst when another professor came in, her heels clicking against the floor in an uneven manner.

Your stomach sank as she got closer and closer to Eris. Your pen eventually snapped from the force of your grip when she put her grubby little fingers all over his arm, fluttering her eyelashes at him as she smiled and pressed her boobs against him.

But what really pissed you off was that he smiled at her.

It felt like someone was sitting on your chest, making your teeth clench. You were seething inside, angry that someone dared to touch him like this. Even though you had been sneaking around for just over two months, you had grown a bit possessive over him and really didn’t like it when other people got so close.

A pout crept onto your face as you looked around, noticing that no one paid much attention to them. Your fellow classmates took the opportunity to chat, oblivious to the storm brewing within you.

Feyre couldn't help but notice the visible change in your demeanor as your eyes burred into Eris.

The pout on your face, the tension in your shoulders – it all screamed discomfort. With a keen eye, she observed the unwarranted familiarity of the other woman's touch on Eris's arm.

Feyre raised an eyebrow and nudged you gently with an amused smile.

“What's going on, Y/N? You look like you're ready to kill someone.”

Your eyes flickered between Feyre and the scene with Eris, frustration evident in your expression. “That professor is all over him, Fey. It's making my blood boil. I mean, we’re in the middle of class, how unprofessional and disgusting to be flirting with him. And who knows, maybe he has a girl or a wife or something. She shouldn’t just do that.”

Having had enough of the scene in front of you, you stood up abruptly, grabbing your bag with frustration evident in your movements. As you left the classroom, you didn’t spare Eris a single look as you felt his eyes burning into yhe back of your head. Glancing back at Feyre, you cocked your head toward the door, silently asking if she was coming. She swiftly gathered her things, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and skipped over to join you in exiting the classroom.

Feyre smirked knowingly before whispering, “So, you fucking the professor or what?”

Your cheeks heated up, and you stammered, “Well, it's new, and I didn't want to say anything yet, but yeah. And before you ask, no it’s not for the grade. I really like him and he likes me back. We just have to keep it under wraps at school but we’re not using each other. And how the hell did you know, am I really that obvious?”

Feyre chuckled. “Baby, it's written all over your face. Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. Now, how are we going to handle this?”

Together, you and Feyre plotted a subtle yet effective way to make him jealous. Little did you know, your friend was excited to have some drama to navigate, especially involving a professor.

———

Your phone vibrated for the millionth time in the past days. Eris had been persistent, trying to reach out through calls and texts, but you'd been deliberately ignoring him all week. Regret gnawed at you, and anger surged as you recalled how he allowed that girl to touch him so publicly. Hurt and frustration clouded your thoughts, envisioning what could have happened if they were alone.

A sense of unease crept in, wondering if he grew tired of the secrecy and sought someone more mature and available—someone who wouldn't risk landing him in legal trouble. The uncertainty lingered, leaving you with a mixture of emotions.

Maybe you were a bit dramatic for completely ignoring him, but who cares?

You swallowed hard and got dressed, opting for the same skirt you had on the last time. Today, you had a plan—a little revenge against Eris. Your strategy involved flirting with a classmate, and you knew just the person: Ilias's best friend, Alex, who always used to check you out when you were dating Ilias. It seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Entering the hall, you slumped down next to him, subtly rearranging your hair and adjusting your bra, making yourself look absolutely irresistible. The game was on, and you were ready to see how Eris would react to a taste of his own medicine.

He was already there, eyes tracking and narrowing when you slumped down next to Alex.

“Hi Alex, how are you doing?” you asked, tilting your body so that he’d have a nice view of your pushed up tits.

His face turned red and he gave you a shy smile.

“Hey, y/n. I’m good, a bit surprised you’re talking to me.”

Yeah, you were really fucking surprised too.

You sighed dramatically. “ Ugh, I totally understand. I mean, I really wanted to befriend you back then, but you know how Ilias is. Always so possessive. Guess he was really threatened by you. He always thought I'd leave him for you, and if I'm honest, I probably would've. You're really cute.”

Your words hung in the air, leaving a calculated impression as you watched his reaction, wondering how this little act would play into your plan.

His eyes widened in surprise, and a subtle grin formed on his face. “Ilias always had a way of complicating things, huh? Well, I'm flattered, hot stuff. I hope you're doing okay now.”

You leaned in, lowering your voice as you let your breast spill out slightly, knowing that Eris was watching your every move.

“Oh, I'm doing much better now. Free from all that drama. Maybe we should grab a coffee sometime and catch up. You know, properly.”

He chuckled, a hint of mischief in his expression. “Sure, sounds like a plan. I'd love to hear more about your new freedom.”

You blew him a kiss before you left him with a seductive smile, the plan unfolded just as you'd hoped. Now, you anticipated Eris's reaction, eager to see how he'd handle the tables turning.

———

Eris was visibly fuming, shooting Alex murderous glares. Throughout the entire lecture, he directed almost every question to him, knowing damn well that he wouldn't be able to answer them.

“That's the fourth question you've gotten wrong, Mr. Halsted. Are you sure this is the right class for you? Regular Lit with Professor Lunden is on Wednesdays; maybe you've gotten them mixed up,” Eris remarked, his tone laced with thinly veiled hostility. The tension in the room escalated as your revenge plan unfolded.

A small pang of guilt tugged at you as you watched Eris target Alex with relentless questioning. However, any sympathy you might have felt was swiftly replaced by the memory of Alex covering up your ex's cheating. In that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to feel sorry for him, and a sense of satisfaction lingered as the tables turned in your little revenge plot.

As the class finished, Eris dismissed everyone except for you. The lingering tension in the room was palpable as your fellow classmates exited, leaving you alone with Eris. The air crackled with anticipation, and you braced yourself for whatever confrontation was about to unfold.

“I've been trying to reach you for days. Why haven't you been answering me?” Eris questioned, frustration evident in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You did? Must've missed it. And besides, aren't you too busy with that professor? What the hell do you need me for?” Your tone held a mix of nonchalance and defiance, ready to confront whatever explanation he might offer.

“If you're talking about Professor Jensen, then you have it all wrong. I don't have anything going on with her. Unless you’ve forgotten, I'm yours. And you're mine, so just what the hell are you doing asking Alex out for coffee?” Eris's words were a mixture of frustration and confusion as he sought an explanation from you. The tension in the air hung thick, awaiting your response.

Oh. Fuck.

A realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You had let jealousy take over, assuming the worst about Eris without even giving him a chance to explain. Your fear of being played again had clouded your judgment, and now you found yourself in a mess of your own making.

“Really? I thought you were sleeping with her or something. I'm so sorry for not letting you explain. I have some trust issues I need to work on. But why was she so close?” Your admission carried a mixture of relief and remorse as you acknowledged your mistake.

Eris eyes softened as he stepped closer, bringing you into a hug while he stroke your hair lovingly.

“She was close because wants me to go on a date with her. I've let her know I'm unavailable several times, but she doesn't seem to understand. Professor Jensen is married as well, and if I told the dean, he'd tell her husband since they're good friends. The only reason she hasn't tried anything further than to touch me is because I keep threatening her to tell the dean,” Eris explained, his words carrying a mixture of frustration and determination. It was clear he had been dealing with an unwelcome situation, trying to maintain boundaries despite the persistence of Professor Jensen.

Your jaw clenched at the thought of her going after him despite his boundaries. You wrapped your arms around him, silently promising to take care of her.

No one would be making him uncomfortable ever again with you around.

A brilliant idea sparked in your mind. You had overheard that Professor Jensen was coming here between classes, presenting the perfect opportunity to assert your claim on Eris and make it clear who he truly belonged to. Hoping she'd understand and leave your man the fuck alone, you started mentally preparing yourself.

“Let me show you how sorry I am, Er,” you whispered, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him briefly before pulling away. You took charge, grabbing his hand and leading him back to his chair by the desk as you made him sit down in front of you.

Standing between his thighs, you leaned forward, placing kisses on his lips, cheek, jaw, and neck. Your lips traveling over his hot skin. You had noticed how incredibly warm Eris was, it was like his skin was like a furnace.

As you contemplated your next move, the realization of your plan sank in.

You were about to fuck your professor, infront of another professor in an unlocked lecture room.

Anyone could walked in.

Suppose you just had to work quickly then.

Your eyes were on his as you bent forward, hooked your finger around your panties and slid them down your legs. You slowly stripped your shirt off, leaving you naked except for your thigh-high stockings, mini skirt, and bra.

A bit slutty for class, you’ll admit.

But whatever you looked good.

Eris's gaze dropped to your body, his hands forming a circle, signaling for you to spin around and show yourself. Giggling, you spun as you showed him your body, lifting your skirt up a bit before getting closer and plopping down in his lap. Eris’s hands automatically came around your waist, holding you in place as you unbuckled his belt, pulling out his cock.

“You’re so big, Eris. Please can I ride you?”

“What a nasty girl. Sitting in her professors lap, begging for cock. You know what were doing is wrong, yet you’re here, dripping wet, grinding all over me.” His teasing tone made your nipples tighten and stiffen, making you whimper in pleasure.

Before you could respond he lifts you up, flipping you around as he bends you over his desk. You gasp, letting out a noise of surprise at the sudden change. His presence warmed your nude back as he carefully slid into you, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as you let out a moan.

He’s so fucking big and every drag against your sensitive walls made you lose your mind. You’d never been fucked this good, ever.

“ Is this what you wanted? Getting fucked in the middle of class? The doors aren’t even locked, sweetheart, anyone could walk in and see how much of a slut you are,” he gritted out between thrusts.

And as if the universe was working with you, the doors opened and professor Jensen walked in.

She looked horrified and let out a yelp.

“What is going on here?” she yelled at you, stepping closer.

You just smirked around her, fucking yourself back at Eris who had completely stopped.

“What does it look like professor? I’m getting fucked by my man.” you emphasized the last part, staring into her eyes as your hands possessivly grabbed his arms on either side of you as you stood straighter.

She scoffed, looking smug as she approached you. “You disgusting whore, you probably did this for a grade. Poor Eris got played by someone whose only interest is a boost in their academic career. Just wait until I tell the Dean.”

You felt Eris tense at her disgusting words towards you, but before he could snap at her, you started laughing.

“Poor Eris knows I’ve been a straight-A student since his father was teaching the course. Poor Eris fucks me because he wants to. And no, you won’t go to the Dean.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, smirking.

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

It was your turn to smile as you played your trump card.

“Because the second you step out of this lecture hall, I’ll send your husband the videos of you flirting with what’s mine. Yeah, I heard your husband pays for your lavish little lifestyle, and that he’s super big on monogamy, something you’re not apparently. So, you won’t tell anyone about us unless you’re ready to lose your lifestyle.”

Professor Jensen's expression shifted from smug to shocked as your words hit her. She stammered, clearly caught off guard by your unexpected revelation.

“You can't... you don't have any proof!” she protested weakly.

You raised an eyebrow, a sly grin playing on your lips. “Oh, don't I? You see, I've got quite the collection of evidence, not just a video. Texts, emails, photos—enough to make your husband divorce your old ass in a heartbeat.”

Eris watched the scene unfold, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face.

“Now,” you continued, “we can all go on with our lives. You won't bother us, and I won't ruin yours. Agreed?”

She hesitated for a moment before reluctantly nodding, defeated by the leverage you held. You smirked, satisfied with the turn of events.

“Oh, and if I hear a whisper of you pursuing Eris ever again, your excuses won't matter—I'll make sure to ruin your life.”

As she hurriedly left the lecture hall, Eris turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“My, look who has got a knack for theatrics. You don’t actually have any evidence do you, love?”

You smile at him, shaking your head and gasp delighted as he continues fucking you.

“N-no, it was just a bit of intimidation, oh f-fuck, h-harder please.”

Warmth spread through your body as he kissed your neck and check, whispering praises and thanks.

“Thank you, sweet one, you’re such a perfect girl. So good for me.”

He kept pounding harder and harder, pulling you in by your neck as you were held flush against his chest, hands lightly squeezing your throat as your eyes crossed at the lightheadedness.

His dirty words, whispered in your ears made you tighten around him impossibly, and it sure as fuck didn’t help when he angled his hips, hitting that spot that made you cum with just a few strokes as he rubbed your clit, sucking on your neck.

It was all too much and you were starting to get overstimulated, but you still wanted him to cum so you grabbed his fingers and sucked on them as they hit the back of your throat nearly making you gag.

Finally you felt a warmth filling you up as he slowed down, groaning as his hands tightened around your throat.

You both sank into the chair, catching your breath. The air was thick with lingering desire, and a serene haze enveloped your mind, leaving only the soft hum of satisfaction. Eris knew you had reached that fuzzy state where you wanted to be cared for, not being able to make any decisions about anything as you floated in your mind. Glancing at the clock he realized that this classroom would be filled with 200 students in about 10 minutes so he reluctantly pulled out and began dressing you both.

“I’m canceling my last class, sweetheart. Let's head to my place, order some food, and just relax,” he whispered, sealing his words with a kiss. Even if the details blurred in your mind, you held onto him, your trust unwavering.

Eris faced an unexpected challenge; your legs gave out, complicating the journey to the secret alleyway where he usually picked you up.

With gentle care, Eris scooped you up bridal style, hoping the alley would be empty today. Skillfully using back entrances and listening for any signs of intrusion, he made his way to his car. As he approached, he checked for any onlookers before settling you gently in the front seat, which he had reclined for your comfort, its tinted windows offering privacy.

Arriving home, Eris couldn't help but steal glances at you as you peacefully slept in the passenger seat. He marveled at your beauty, cherishing the simple joy of having you close.

You stirred, adjusting to find a more comfortable position. Eris gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, captivated by your peaceful beauty.

“Mm, thanks for taking care of me, baby. I love you.”

Hearing those unexpected words, Eris froze. He had known it all along, the feelings growing within him. Yet, he wondered if you were merely tired, your words slipping out without realizing what you were saying.

In the warmth of the moment, his heart fluttering and butterflies dancing in his stomach, he lifted you up, carrying you into his bedroom. There he laid next to you , nerves nearly making him want to throw up as he whispered back the words he had never heard or spoken before,

“I love you too.”

Upon hearing those words, you pulled him closer, resting your head on his chest and placing gentle kisses where his heart beat. Intertwined, you both repeated those three words, reassuring each other that this love would endure forever.

Eris had no doubt in mind, you loved him as he loved you. It was a gentle reminder for someone who hadn’t experienced love before.

360 notes · View notes

decadentworld · 2 years

Note

loved the first fanfic! it was delicious!

so um could i request jonathan byers with dacryphilia, praise, maybe even perverted jonathan?

like it's jonathans first time bottoming and he's kind of scared, but he's fantasized about it for a very long time so he's very eager and obedient.

you don't have to write it, of course! whatever you're comfortable with, dude.

take care!

Hey, anon. I went kind of overboard with the ‘pervert Jonathan’ part, because this boy just screams ‘secret pervert’ to me. I hope it’s alright. This one is a lot more light-hearted and a lot less poetic than Rebirth.

Also. I promised myself that requests wouldn’t be as long as my personal works but. Well. Oops.

Vice.

Jonathan’s first time does not go the way he plans it. In fact, it goes a lot better.

※ Sub Bottom Jonathan/Dom Top Male Reader

※ 12,444 words.

※ Anonymous request.

※ Content & warnings: First time bottoming. Dacryphilia. Size difference/Size queen. D/s dynamics. Praise kink. Authority kink. Pervert Jonathan. Hardcore first time. Overstimulation. Un-beta’d.

※ Both characters are 18 or older.

※ Work available only on Tumblr and under ArchiveOfOurOwn pseud of the same name (DecadentWorld). Do not repost, edit, or redistribute. Do not use for TikTok videos.

Jonathan’s little secret is at all times kept under lock and key. Several locks, actually. And a combination lock with no less than five numbers for good measure.

There’s this box hidden within his closet, see, which is quite sizable, though it is very discreet and easy to hide in the deepest part of his closet, behind his chest of drawers. It’s black; he knows it’s originally intended as a cash safe, or he supposes, since he didn’t actually buy it. He found it. He swears that’s the word that describes it best: ‘found’ it. What could an open cash safe have been doing just lying around in the junkyard otherwise? He did not steal it. It was open, it was empty, it was happenstance that he needed something to store his ever-growing collection of his more personal things and there was an abandoned cash safe in the junkyard. Simple.

Now, what’s inside this box nowadays? Only he knows as of yet. It’s not something he could just be saying outloud. There are already consequences just for people like Jonathan to simply show his true face in Hawkins, but if anyone unsafe found what he keeps in the box? He would be skinned alive. He would be castrated, for sure.

Which is why he always makes absolutely sure to close it, lock it, and hide it away after he finishes making use of the… erm. Objects inside.

He always does. He never forgets.

After withdrawing from one of the most intense, toe-curling make-out sessions with his boyfriend —his boyfriend. It makes him so fucking giggly to think of that word— as he greeted you into his house, a surprise visit from you, he leads you closer to his bed with a shy hand on yours.

“Just get comfortable,” he tells you. “I’m gonna bring in something to eat.”

“Sure, gorgeous.”

The mental haze he gets after the slight praise is probably one of the reasons why he gets sloppy today.

He walks to the kitchen with a spring in his step. He’s home alone for the moment, something so rare it’s a golden opportunity he won’t waste. God. He feels so bubbly when he’s with you. He opens the fridge as he thinks of this. Jonathan’s never felt like this, like he could turn to mush just by being next to you, like he could start giggling at any given moment just because you talk to him with a voice that rumbles throughout his body, like he could swoon when you press your palm against the back of his head, because he feels like you could engulf him wholly. His break-up with Nancy led him to several realizations, one of which —and he’s sorry, Nancy, but it has to be said— is the one where he found he’s a lot more attracted to men than to women. By, like. A lot. Nancy knew about his bisexuality before, but never commented on it. He doesn’t think she did (or didn’t, rather) out of maliciousness, or awkwardness, or anything like that. Jonathan knows there was just no possible situation in which the topic could be talked about casually, so why bother. He’s absolutely not mad or anything like that. Plus, there’s no point in discussing something like that when they were in a relationship; for no reason would he think about other men, or women, while he had a girlfriend. These thoughts lead to other similar ones as he’s getting some snacks ready in small plastic bowls. He feels kind of bad for not being more open with his family. With Will, especially. He knows the euphoria, the feeling of safeness that Will would get if he knew there was an older queer figure in his life. Sure, Will is not out, but it’s sort of an open secret now. But Jonathan is not that brave. He knows his mom has the tiniest suspicion of Jonathan being at least a little bit queer, what with you coming over more often than not. For college assignments, of course. And everything leads back to you. He bites his lip with a smile on his face as he finishes pouring the contents of a packet into one of the little bowls. Everything about you has him crazy. It’s the fact that you tower over him but still hold him in your arms like he’s delicate, fragile. It’s how you still haven’t made any sexual advances towards him, because you know he’s a virgin in that aspect, and because he told you how very nervous the thought made him. But Jonathan knows you sense something more, and how very right you are without realizing it, that he might be sort of terrified, yet it’s the only thing he can think about these days. It’s even more difficult to focus on anything else when he can only think about you taking him in your big hands, making him —everything about him— look small. Can’t help getting hard in unfortunate situations sometimes, can’t choose which fantasy is best: the one where you take your time with him, treating him gently… or the one where you rip his virginity away, so intensely that he’s crying in the end. He has to calm down before he gets hard. Again. Because he’s already taken the edge off, had an orgasm earlier today. Made use of some of the objects in his—

Wait.

WAIT.

He sprints towards his room leaving the bowls abandoned on the kitchen counter. And there you are.

On his bed. Not having moved at all, of course. How could you? His bed is quite comfy.

You’re sitting on his bed. Looking at the open closet some feet from you. With a scandalized, but pleased expression.

Looking at the open safe on the closet floor.

Jonathan throws himself in front of the closet and closes the door with such force it resounds across his bedroom.

“How much did you see?!”

You look at him, amusedly, pleasantly surprised at this new version of Jonathan you’re seeing. “Um… enough?”

Jonathan covers his burning face and groans. It’s a long and muffled noise. “Oh my Goood,” he mumbles behind his hands.

You can’t help but chuckle a little bit. “Babe… why are you so shaken about this?”

“It’s… you weren’t supposed to see.” Jonathan peeks at you from between his fingers. “It’s so fucking embarrassing.”

“Uh…” You understand where he’s coming from, but, honestly, if he thinks this is the end of the world then he’s sorely mistaken. “It’s… not, really. It’s actually kind of… hot.”

Jonathan lowers his hands so quickly he accidentally slaps the closet door behind him. He gapes at you, so mortified he could melt to the floor. “Wh-What— You don’t— You’re not mad?”

Now you’re frowning in confusion. “Why would I be mad?”

“Well… I kind of… told you I’ve never…” You never thought he could get any more red until now. “And I still… have these things…”

You give him a sort of wolfish smile. He knows you’re trouble when you stand up, slowly walk the few steps to him, and suddenly you’re towering over him.

He gulps. He’s so terrified and excited about what you’re going to say, to do.

You lower a hand to the left side of his waist. He jumps a little bit. “It is hot, Jonathan. Now, feel free to push me off if I’m out of line, but I’m suddenly really, really curious to see more of that.”

He makes a small shrill you find adorable. “Uh— you want to s— how— what did you see, exactly?”

“Well, I saw… some nice-looking ropes.” Jonathan grumbles with embarrassment. “Saw something that looks like…” You leave his waist for a second to use both index fingers to draw something in the air that vaguely resembles a spade. He looks like a fish out of water. “I spotted a shape that looks a lot like something I have, too… if you’d be interesting in comparing.” Jonathan is almost hyperventilating at this point. “But, I think the most interesting one… it was barely peeking, but… the corner of something that I know, Jonathan, I know, is a photo?”

He can’t take it. He hides his face in your chest and whines so loudly it can barely be muffled. You cackle. It’s not a mean sound. You just can’t believe how agitated he’s being about something so normal. So you reassure him.

“It’s normal, Jonathan. It just means you have a healthy way of having fun on your own.”

He grumbles some more. He peeks at you from his spot on your chest. “You think?”

“Yep. And I would absolutely not mind knowing more about it. About your… stash.”

That at least pulls a giggle out of him. “You say it like I’m dealing.” He withdraws.

You caress his chin with a smile. “I am. I would pay only the highest price for this very fine selection.”

Jonathan bites his lip, a small smile in his face. You make him feel so safe, no judgement ever bleeding from your words. “You want to see it?”

You nod, almost enthusiastically, and he laughs. You step back some, giving him some space to open the closet door behind him. He does, and crouches down to retrieve it. Before pulling it out completely, he hesitates. “Um…”

“Yeah?”, you encourage him.

“It’s… if that’s all you saw, then… you didn’t even see half of it?” He says the last part more hushed, like he’s so embarrassed of himself he can’t even speak.

“Oh.” And you sound even more excited now. “Well. You’ll just have to show me all of it, right?”

Jonathan bites his lip and giggles nervously. He pulls the black safe out of his closet and onto the floor of his room.

You give him a muffled laugh. He was right. You didn’t even see half of what he’s got. You skim over the contents, before saying: “Wanna bring this up to the bed so I can see it better?”

He nods. With a strong blush on his face, Jonathan lifts the open box and leaves it on his bed.

The moment of truth is here. You both sit on the mattress, the open safe between you two, its contents perfectly visible. Jonathan is sort of hunched over himself with a hand on his mouth, looking so embarrassed you find it endearing.

You feast on all the objects inside the safe. There’s the things you’ve already seen: red ropes, a metal buttplug, a black silicone dildo, and yes, there are pictures too. Pictures of himself with those ropes around him and nothing more, photographs of parts of his body, a lot more artistic than actually sexual in nature. Close-ups of Jonathan’s cum on the wooden floor. But apart from that, there’s also skin mags. Pocket-sized ones. They’re all gay skin mags. There are also a lot more toys and sexual objects: nipple clamps, anal beads, a small bullet-shaped vibrator, a cock ring, a flogger, a chest harness, a collar with a D ring and matching cuffs for the wrists and ankles —you have to catch your breath at that one. An unlabeled cassette. That one picks your interest a lot. You don’t see any fleshlights or VHS’s. Probably didn’t fit in the safe with how much stuff there is already. Lastly, you see two different tubes of lubricant: a neutral one, and a cherry-flavored one; and a handful of packets of condoms.

His collection is impressive. It’s almost like he collects these things, like he treasures them, keeps them stored away safely only for his eyes and body to feast on whenever he has the time. All in all, you get a rush of something that feels like awe, and lust at the same time.

You finally look at him. He is so red behind his hands, and he’s also shaking a little bit, like he’s so nervous to hear what you have to say about all this.

“Oh, babe. Look at me.” Jonathan complies, looking at you from the spaces between his fingers. “This? This is amazing. Like, wow. You have so much stuff.” You give him a little smirk, about to test the waters. “Have you used all of them already?”

At that, Jonathan can only cover his face completely, muffled laughs hysterical from how awkward he feels, and throws himself back on the bed. At least he’s not outright rejecting you.

A little nod catches your attention.

“That’s so hot, baby.” You softly grab around the edges of the safe and turn it around a bit to see better. Jonathan lowers his hands down to his mouth to be able to see you when he feels the jostle on the bed. “Can you tell me what… this one is?” You point at the cassette.

“Oh my God.” Jonathan looks like he’s biting his nails. He decides to sit up instead. He takes the cassette in his trembling hands and holds it up, the side you saw before facing you and the other one facing Jonathan. “Um…”

“If you want, obviously.”

“U-Um…” He giggles nervously a bit more. That’s good. He’s not actually afraid or uncomfortable, just shy. “It’s… like a narration. The narrator says things that are supposed to… make you feel things.”

It’s so vague, since he’s still pretty mortified about showing you all this, but you think you understand. “Okay. Kind of like… hypnosis?”

“Well… yeah, but not really in the traditional sense.” Jonathan fiddles with the cassette. “It’s just relaxing, but also…” His renewed blush tells you everything you need to know.

“That’s so interesting.” You lean over to examine the small rectangle better, and suddenly spot some handwritten text on the back. “Oh. What does it say?”

Jonathan shrieks. He didn’t mean for you to see that. His hand just accidentally moved until the cassette was no longer parallel to you. “Uhhh…” But, he decides to brave through, because this entire situation is doing something to him. “But… but don’t make fun of me. Please.”

“Of course not!”, you’re quick to say. “Why would I?”

Jonathan bites his lower lip. “Well…” He fidgets a bit, then shakily hands you the cassette over.

You give him a reassuring little smile as you accept the tape. You turn it around. And.

Ah.

Jonathan is full of surprises, isn’t he.

Your eyes go hazy with lust as you read the handwritten two words on the white sticker: Good Boy. You understand a bit better now. You can totally picture what it is: the deep masculine voice of a male narrator giving the listener instructions on what to do, how to touch themselves, what a good boy they’re being for obeying. So Jonathan has the biggest praise kink ever. No big deal. Not at all. Except. It’s all you’ll be able to think about for the rest of your life.

You can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches the back of his head and you give your boyfriend a steamy kiss, right over the open safe, feeling him tremble and whine against you. He opens his mouth in time for you to slip your tongue in and start a sensual caress over his own. Jonathan grabs at your clothes in desperation, squirming in his place on the bed like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You withdraw and look at him. Not only is he sporting the most gorgeous blush ever, but there’s a hint of lust there now, too.

“That’s so fucking hot, Jon. You like being a good boy?”

He suddenly moans against your lips. But then seems to sober up and covers his mouth, ashamed.

You take his hand into yours and move it aside with a little bit of resistance. “None of that, sweetness. Let me hear you.”

He does this little whine and instead lifts his other hand over his mouth, not entirely covering it, just appearing to be chewing on his nails. Even then, he’s gives you a small shaky smile as he shakes his head in shy denial.

“No?” You push only enough to give him a thrill, never to spook him. Your hand that was holding his releases him and goes under his chin. Jonathan puts both hands on his lap as he timidly looks up at you. “I hope I’m not overstepping here, but…”

“N-No, no, you’re not.” Jonathan puts his left hand on the one you have under his chin. “I’m just… this is just kinda new to me.”

You grin at him. “Sweetheart.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the lips. Even that seems to leave him breathless. “I was just saying that… it’d be so hot if you told me more about some of these things. Hm? What do you say?”

He releases a heavy breath that borders on being a moan. He bites his lip, but nods in the end. You release his face and he runs two delicate hands across his hair.

Right when he’s about to speak up, there’s a loud thud coming from the front door of the house.

Jonathan yelps and jumps almost a foot in the air. He immediately closes the lid of the safe box. You’re both frozen in place, you waiting to see if any of his relatives are going to walk in through the front door, and he frozen from fear.

A few more seconds pass, and nothing else happens. Jonathan shakily gets up from the bed, slowly walks to his bedroom door and opens it just a bit. His eyes land on the front door.

The tips of something he knows is newspaper peek from under the slit of the door.

He closes his door with a relieved sigh. “Oh my God. It was just the newspaper delivery. I thought it was going to be my mom.” He runs his hands through his hair with a hysterical giggle.

You laugh too. “Damn. Scared the hell out of me.”

“Me too.”

It seems like this cut off the moment you were having. Jonathan stands awkwardly at the door for some seconds. Then decides to go near the bed again, but doesn’t sit down.

“Um… I’m, like, totally spooked out right now.” But he says it like he’s apologetic about it. Like he doesn’t want this to stop.

You get up with an eager grin. He gives you that nervous little smile, looking at you from under his lashes. “I thought of something right now. That is, if you want, of course.” He nods as he keeps listening. “I thought that maybe… you can show me all of this,” and your hand points in the direction of the closed safe on the bed. “…uninterrupted. As much as you want… at mine?”

He makes a small embarrassed grunt. He covers his mouth to muffle a small giggle. “At your house?”, he asks, so demurely you want to eat him up.

“Yeah. If, of course, that’s okay with you.”

Jonathan doesn’t answer you right away, still looking like he’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. He walks the few steps towards the bed, opens the lid of the safe, and takes something small out of it. Slowly. Nervously.

“Ummm…” He shows you what it is. He speaks almost in a whisper. “Are we… going to need one of these?”

A condom.

Your eyes go half-lidded. The idea that he possibly wants to fuck, even though you haven’t gone past heavy kissing, is exhilarating. You have to collect yourself, since you don’t mean to drive home with an erection.

“Jonathan…” You crowd him against the wall next to his bedroom door. He drops the packet with a breathless moan. You kiss him long and heavy, feeling him squirm against you, feeling his rising heat. You withdraw and give him an intense look. “If you want.”

He moans against your neck. He breathes rapidly against it, trying to calm himself down, and then nods against your skin.

You run your fingers through his hair, on the back of his head. Then you softly grip those same locks to lift his head and have him look at you. “Good.”

It’s so close, a hair’s width kind of close to saying ‘good boy’, but you’re going to save that for later. Even now, he melts against your grip at that single word. Now he puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to focus better. “Okay, but, like… can you just… go and I’ll meet you there. In 20, maybe? I’ll have to call mom first and make up an excuse.”

You chuckle. “Sure.”

Jonathan comes out of the shower fifteen minutes later. He’s still the only person in the house, feeling sure that it wouldn’t be at least another hour until anyone arrived, but it was still the better idea to go to yours.

As he goes back into his room and retrieves the closed safe —this time having hid it behind his set of drawers where he always leaves it, he’s not making that mistake again— he stops when he has it in his hand. A wicked idea comes into his mind. He blushes as he begins unlocking the box.

You open your front door at the twenty minute mark, just as Jonathan said. There he is, all nervous smiles and fidgety hands, even though he clearly hopes it’s subtle. He has the safe box clutched in his right hand.

“Hey,” you greet him as you give him way into your home.

“Hi.” Jonathan tucks his chin into his chest. He’s just so cute to you.

As soon as you close the door, he’s onto you. You’re pleasantly surprised when he kisses you first now. You lean back against the door and hold the sides of his head in your hands. These same hands caress his hair. He melts into you within the kiss.

You pull back and point at the safe in his hand with a wolfish smile. “That looks heavy. Let me give you a hand?”

Jonathan does this little sound that tells you he’s embarrassed, but hands you the box over. He’s putting a lot of trust into you by letting you handle the most private part of his life, so you’re not going to disappoint him.

You take his hand with your free one, which makes him look like he’s melting with shyness, even though you have a literal safe full of his sex toys in your other hand, and guide him towards your room.

The moment you open the door, it seems like it dawns on Jonathan that you’re going to do this. His hand starts trembling in your grip.

You lift his hand until it’s under your mouth. You press a soft kiss on his knuckles, and he looks at you with shaky giddiness. “Still want to do this?”

Jonathan all but latches himself onto you, holding onto your side as his answer. He looks at you from under his lashes, almost like he’s fawning at you. So he’s just nervous but still excited. It’s a small relief, and you will do anything to keep him from toeing that fine line into outright distress. You softly grab his chin and press a small kiss on his lips. After, you guide him further into your room with this same grip, something that makes him give you the softest of giggles.

Once you’re in front of the bed, you gesture for him to get comfortable. Jonathan sits on your bed as you deposit the locked safe onto the mattress with the utmost care.

“I have to… unlock it first,” Jonathan says. He bites his lip to stifle a grin, his face already reddening some.

“Of course!” You turn around and make a show of covering your eyes with your hands.

He outright laughs this time. You hear the tinkle of small keys —he probably had them in his pockets, you muse��, some clacking noises that indicate a padlock opening, then two, and then three, and then soft clicking of tiny number dials being turned. Finally, a louder clack. The lid is open.

“Okay, you can turn around, now,” Jonathan says, amusedly.

You do, and a familiar sight of the many toys and objects inside the box greets you. There’s the things you’ve already seen: the dildo, the mags. Everything else.

Except… maybe…?

You have a fleeting, silly thought. You think, and this is so funny: you think there’s, like… something missing?

Hah. As if. You leave this ridiculous thought aside.

“Okay. Okay!” You sit down on your bed, next to the open safe, similar to the way you were some twenty minutes ago in his house.

He briefly covers his mouth with his hands, like he’s muffling a giggle. Hah. He’s so shy about telling you more, that’s for sure. That’s the only reason why he’s so giddy. Of course. “What… What would you like to know?”

You give him a hungry smirk. “Well… just the basics. You know? Like, what’s your favorite one, or, what’s the one you use the most?”

Jonathan covers his face with his hands for a short time. He looks like he’s biting his nails with one hand when he uses the other one to point at the bullet vibrator. “I… I use this one the most.” And then his hand hovers over the black silicone dildo. “But… I like this one the most.”

You lick your lips. Some conclusions are being drawn with what he’s saying. He likes the vibration, the movement the vibrator causes, because it’s the closest he might have to an unassisted penetration, perhaps? And he loves using the dildo, but doesn’t use it as much, because…?

“Oh. And, if you like this one the most,” you start, while you point at the dildo. “…why don’t you use it as much?”

His lips do a funny thing, like he’s barely containing a hysterical laugh. He exhales, and it comes out like a whine. “Um…” Jonathan runs his hands through his hair, so nervous to say it outloud. “Because… I don’t always have time to prepare enough for it.”

Hm… “Prepare, as in…?”

“Well.” He does start giggling at this point, clapping his hands once like he can’t believe he’s about to say this. You chuckle in sympathy, even though you don’t fully understand. “It’s just… so big.”

Whoa.

What.

“It’s… I need a lot of time… and prep…” He muffles his giggles behind his hands. “‘Cause, otherwise, it just won’t… fit.”

You think your mouth is open, but you can’t know for sure. First of all, you are already feeling a bit hot under the collar. Just Jonathan telling you this has to count as foreplay. Second of all…

The dildo is… well. You estimate it might be five inches at max, four and a half in length if you’re being more realistic. One and a half inches in diameter.

It’s just… it’s so cute that he thinks…

“Wh… What?”, Jonathan says, a bit shaky. “What is… cute?”

Oh, shit. You said that last part outloud, didn’t you. You lean over and peck him on the lips. “Nothing, baby. Nevermind.”

He does a little humming noise, like he’s parsing your implications, but seems to drop it. He goes back to watching over the objects. He bites the tip of his index finger when your hand hovers over the stack of loose photographs. They’re not simple polaroids or anything like that: they’re professional, artistic, developed photographs. You think Jonathan is so brave because of that. The thought that he’d be careful enough to stay in the darkroom for as long as the photos needed to be developed, not letting anyone else in and catch him in the act, is simply so endearing.

“Don’t think I’ve said it before, but these are amazing.” Your fingers hover over the top picture, the most visible one: the one where he’s tied up with the red rope. His arms are free to be able to hold the camera in front of the mirror; his legs are tied up around the thigh and ankle, so that he wouldn’t have been able to stand up. His bare cock is semi-hard in front in the picture. You wonder if he had touched himself beforehand, or if the simple act of being tied-up turns him on. “So hot.”

Jonathan puts a lock of his hair behind his ear. “You can… hold them, if you want. To see them.”

“Yeah?” You do just that. You grab the one you’ve seen before, the one where there’s just a cum splatter on wooden floor. “Bet you had a lot of fun with this one, didn’t you?”

Jonathan just covers his mouth with his hands. He’s so abashed, but he trusts you so much, trusts you enough to show this part of him. “Y-Yeah.”

“Hm. Wait. Is this blood?” You point at the picture in your hand, where there are thick red splatters next to the white ones.

“Oh, no. Not at all. It’s candle wax.”

“Ooh. Candles?”

He nods, shyly. “I ran out of candles, but my subject in this series was to show how suggestible a person might be to some images in terms of eroticism. Like, you just thought this was blood, but it’s actually wax. And you obviously knew this is… well…” He gets giggly for a second because he’s pointing to the white splatters and you know he’s going to say ‘cum’. “…and you were right, but another person might just think both of them are melted candle wax in different colors.”

He’s such a genius.

“And also these ones,” Jonathan continues, pulling out the photographs you’ve seen before, of close-ups of his bare body where only vague shapes could be distinguished. “…these are from the same series.”

“This is… your arm?”, you guess.

He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. It’s supposed to be vague enough for people to not fully understand what they’re looking at, first. They might just think it’s abstract photography, or maybe just a texture.”

You hum. “These are very good, Jon. You’re a prodigy.”

Your praise has its intended effect. He laughs, abashed, trying to cover his face but always coming back to you. “Thank you,” is his whispered gratitude.

You notice he’s subtly trying to cross his legs on the bed. Hm…

“You know,” you start, nonchalantly, as your hand hover above the cassette, something that has him almost on the edge of his seat. “…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this one.”

God. The look on his face. Jonathan is so red he’s almost suffocating. Just you mentioning the tape leads him to shift on the bed, like he’s getting horny from the sole idea of you listening to it. “Y-Yeah?” It’s a muffled question; his hands are against his mouth.

“Yep,” you answer, so casually, like, yeah, of course I can’t stop thinking about you getting off to a man telling you how good you are. No big deal. “And, to be honest, it gave me quite a few ideas.”

Jonathan lowers his hands to his lap and fidgets with the rim of his sweater. His lips are pursed, like he wants to smile nervously. “Yeah?” It’s a whisper now.

“Yeah. Makes me think of how desperate you have to be to be someone’s good boy, enough to buy something like this.”

He exhales so loudly, so much so that it sounds like the beginning of a moan. At the same time, that simple fidgeting turns into him actually pulling the rim of his sweater down. To cover the small tenting of his pants.

You give him a heated glare to which he withers in lust. Reaching out, you lay a hand under his jaw. “Makes me think you wouldn’t need it anymore. Since you’ll have me here to tell you all those things.”

Jonathan looks wrecked. He closes his eyes, rubs his face against your hand, uses both of his to grab your wrist.

“What do you say?”, you ask, because you need verbal confirmation, even though he’s doing the equivalent of throwing himself at your feet by now.

He nods, so enthusiastically it pulls a chuckle out of you.

“Words, baby.”

He moans out loud. “Yes, Sir.”

He’s your ruin. You can’t do anything other than growl and bring him to your lips with a strong grip on his nape. He’s now moaning into the kiss, so filthily that you can feel it in your bones. You kiss him languidly, but it’s steamy; you all but force his jaw to open with your thumb on his chin and press your tongue into his mouth. The effect is immediate. He invites you in, gives you nervous caresses of his tongue that are wholly eclipsed by the dominion yours has on his. Throughout this time he’s never stopped shifting in his place, close to vibrating out of his skin, if it weren’t for your strong grip on his nape, keeping him in place. Keeping him behaved.

You pull out and he takes a deep breath at once.

“Now, correct me if I’m wrong, Jonathan,” you grunt against his lips. “…but I get the impression that you’ve been wanting this for a long, very long time, if all of this stuff is any indication.” You gesture towards the open safe between you, below you.

He nods quickly in your grip. “Yes! Yes, I can’t— can’t stop thinking about it. About…” He seems to get abashed. “I wouldn’t— mind if—”

“If…?” You give his lower lip a small bite.

Jonathan gasps before resuming. “Like— I know i-it’s my first time in— you know— but, l-like…” He breathes quickly when you kiss the corner of his lips, his cheek, his temple. “…like… I’ve always… had this…”

His red-faced silence urges you to give him encouragement. “This… ‘fantasy’?”

“Oh my God,” and he starts laughing nervously, because you’re right, because you’re so attuned to him he can’t believe it. “Y-Yeah. Well— It’s— Um… Where it— wouldn’t be…”

You hum in interrogation.

“Oh my God are you gonna make me say it.” You chuckle at this rushed mumble of his, and he answers in kind. “Um… I’m trying to say th-that… I wouldn’t mind if— if you weren’t… gentle.”

This is Hell. This is Hell and Heaven in the same place. Does Jonathan have any idea of what he’s unleashed? He’s just basically revealed that he wants you to be rough with him on his first time bottoming. And, for the love of God, isn’t that a vision. This shy, inexperienced —at least in this aspect— boy wants you to have your way with him, like the secret little pervert you’ve found he is, thanks to the safe full of literal sex toys right under you both. This fantasy of his is just so in tune to yours that you want nothing more than to fulfill it.

But.

There’s a problem. A little problem with this.

You kiss him shortly, and walk around the safe until you’re kneeling in front of him, between his legs on the bed. He has to look up from under his lashes. You caress his neck with both hands and he seems to melt against you.

“Babe. You have no idea how much I want that.” Jonathan trembles in your hands. “But… we’re gonna need a lot of lube and prep.”

“Sure, yeah. Of course. I know.” But does he know? You think he’s not exactly aware of how much you’re implying with this, but before you can open your mouth, he beats you to it. “I just— need to grab. It. The lube.” He reaches to the side and grabs one of the two tubes of lubricant in his safe. The neutral one. “And… well… Just… get prepared.” He starts giggling like he just said something extremely funny, and you can’t help but join in. “But… I need to see what I’m working with, first, i-if you know what I mean.” Jonathan puts as much enticement in his voice and face as he can, even as he stutters his way through it.

This is the part you were worried about. You just don’t know how he’s going to react when he sees it. Even then, you start undoing your pants, slowly, his giddiness beating his nervousness now. “Okay, sweetheart. But maybe you should let me ease you into it—”

“Don’t worry about that,” he rushes to say, putting his own hands on yours, helping you undo the button and flyer with shaking hands. “Sorry I’m so eager. I just… can’t stop thinking about it.” He hooks the fingers of both hands under your underwear and starts pulling down as he keeps rambling. “Like, I’m… sort of dying for it? And you know it since you can see all the things I have here, and I’m always kind of ready, and— w-well, um…”

His voice dies down as your cock is revealed. Here’s the point where he’s completely silent, just staring at it, mouth open as if in wonder. Or maybe horror.

Because the thing about this particular fantasy of his, of wanting to have his virginity just ripped out of him, can’t be entirely possible without a good amount of pain now that he knows how big you are.

“Ah…?” Jonathan stares at it with a terrified smile. Then looks up at you. Gestures at your member with a loose finger, looks at it again. “H-How… Is it r-real?”

You give him a sympathetic half-smile, half-grimace. “It’s— Yeah. It’s very real. Unfortunately.”

Is it bad news that he doesn’t have a giddy comeback for that? Just silence?

“Look, Jon, we don’t have to do this anymore. We can just… I don’t know. Play a bit, if you want. Not do anything at all—”

“No, no, no, no. None of that. I just…” He seems to compose himself a little bit. Exhales a small laugh. “I needed… a second, back there. Sorry for— that. I still— you know. Maybe you’re right.” Jonathan’s hands nervously reach the sides of your cock, not laying on it yet. “We need. A lot of prep.”

You notice his eagerness and take his hands in yours, guiding them until they’re wrapped around your cock.

He exhales so shakily. He can’t even fully close his fingers around your member.

“You sure you want to?”, you have to ask, because he’s just so small compared to you. You’re so afraid of hurting him —in a bad way. In a way he doesn’t want.

He bites his lip as he nods. Then, as his face turns a darker shade of pink, he starts getting the most sly look on his face. You narrow your eyes playfully, attempting to understand what he’s trying to convey. His small hands on your cock rub up and down, slowly, the strokes a bit dry without lube but a nice feel nonetheless.

“Okay,” you say. “Gonna need a lot of lube for this, yeah?”

He nods again. Doesn’t speak, even though he looks like he wants to say something, but keeps it down.

You hum, and narrow your eyes again. “Okay?” You start leaning forwards, almost forcing him to start leaning back until he’s lying on the bed, his hands leaving your cock to aid himself.

He nods once more, this time frantically. He makes a small squeak when he feels the hot imprint of your big cock on his clothed thigh.

“Then…” You kiss him deliberately. His hands grab your shoulders. You withdraw after some few seconds. After you quickly take off his sweater and shirt at the same time, you’re back to lying on top of him fully. “I’m gonna need to see what I’m working with, first, don’t you think?”, you mumble against his lips, echoing what he said first.

Here’s when he starts shifting more in place. He appears to be eager, but holding back for something. Jonathan’s expression is one of heavy anticipation. His breathing is deep, ready for you. Even so, he nods one last time.

You kneel back up and start undoing his pants. Jonathan lies back on his arms, his legs slightly shifting in place. You give him a sly look that pins him in place, makes him so hot under the collar, and begin lowering his boxers just until his cock starts to show. He giggles, nervously, airily, and you can’t help but join in.

He whines in between his soft laughter. “Don’t laugh, okay? I know it’s small.”

He’s so pouty about this that you can’t help but lean forward and steal a short kiss from him. “Now, why would I laugh about that? Like it wouldn’t be one of the hottest things from you.” Your hands finally uncover his hard cock while he’s sputtering at what you’ve just said.

And it is hot. It is hot to you that Jonathan is simply so small compared to you, in every aspect. His cock is just perfect, would fit like a dream in your big hand. So you try just that.

Jonathan flails in the bed when he feels your fist enclosing around his member. He can’t help but thrust up into it repeatedly, all the while crying out at how good it feels.

But you’re mean to him. You use your other hand to hold his hips down, and your strength is too great for him to handle. He realizes he’s fully immobilized when he tries to push his hips up and can’t move even an inch. This sole fact makes him swoon, turns him into mush on your mattress, and he stops trying. Lets you be the one to lead the —slow, agonic— pace of your hand on his cock. It’s a thing of beauty: your hand is big enough to completely envelop his cock. The visual is so powerful that you feel your own throbbing hotly.

“Good boy.”

He moans so desperately this time, because it’s what he’s been dying for all along. It’s the first time you call him that.

“Yeah? You like being a good boy and staying still for me?”

He nods so quickly his hair shifts in place. “Yes. Yes, Sir.” Jonathan seems to realize that he just said this, and covers his mouth with both hands. He looks so abashed.

So you encourage him. “Such a good boy for me, calling me ‘Sir’. Don’t be ashamed now, gorgeous. You did it once already.”

Jonathan seems even more agitated by this. “I did?!”

He’s adorable. You hum in response. “Yes. So don’t get shy on me. Be nice and I’ll give you everything you need.”

His face does something so obscene now. His eyes cross and he lies down completely, moaning like he’s already coming, except he’s not. You’re afraid he might be too close, so you slowly pull your closed fist off him. His moan breaks in the middle of it, and you moan in response, almost mocking him as it ends in a small chuckle.

“Come on. I still need to see what I’ll be working with, yeah?”

It’s like the moment is slightly broken as soon as you say this. He nods, but is quiet now.

You lie on top of him, covering his body with yours, and it seems like he finds the height difference so utterly hot that he can’t help but release a little titter. You smile at him fondly. Now his arms encircle your shoulders, and you meet his lips in the middle, so slowly and softly that he turns into mush. While your left arm goes around his neck, both to hold him and to keep yourself up, your right hand starts the descent down his bare back, teasingly, loving every minuscule writhing it feels as it goes. Calloused fingertips caress his spine, the dimples on his lower back, then go right under his underwear beneath his pants. Jonathan whines as your big hand takes hold of his left cheek, fondling it almost roughly, and the thought is simply too much for him. He pulls off the kiss and hides his face in the crook of your neck, almost sobbing with how much he’s feeling.

Your fingers approach the place you’ve been looking for all this time. Except…

You feel something hard. Something flat and wide where his entrance should be, and you immediately know what it is.

“Jonathan.”

He pulls off your neck just the tiniest bit, only to look at you with a mortified look, as you said it so strongly, almost like you were reprimanding him.

But he’s turning you feral, so you grab his hips to quickly turn him around and have him face down while he yelps. You hold his hips up as he’s too dumbfounded to react yet and pull down his pants and underwear, only down to his thighs and he can do no more than cover his face with his hands.

There’s the metal buttplug in all its glory.

“I knew it! I knew there was something missing in the box!” The visual is so stunning. To know that he’s been wearing this all this time…

Jonathan whines like a kicked puppy. “I-Is it too much? I’m sorry, I thought you would like—”

“Oh, no, no, baby. This is just perfect. Feel.” You lay your hard, throbbing cock on his right asscheek and he makes a sound like he’s drowning. “Can you feel how hard you made me? You’re such a good boy, Jon. Got ready for me without me having to tell you.”

Jonathan moans almost like he’s yelling, then presses his face against the bed.

You lie on top of his back, your chest molding over it. “It means it won’t take too long to fit my cock in you,” you all but growl next to his ear, and he sobs. Your right hand grabs the base of the plug, and even that little thing has him wailing. “You know, I gotta ‘fess up. Some minutes ago I was about to say ‘It’s cute that you think this is big’.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah! I was just as shocked,” you say conversationally as you twist the plug in him, his feet kicking up and down the bed. “I thought, ‘does he really think this is big? Oh boy, what’s he gonna say when he sees my cock?’”

Jonathan’s response is a warbled, unintelligible noise.

“Let me see just how ready you are.” Your fingers start pulling the buttplug out, and he’s wailing and thrashing on the bed as you do. You’re probably the first person to anally stimulate him, and you know just how sensitive the first time can be. “Now, be a good boy and stop moving, yeah?”

His movements halt to a stop, though he’s clearly shaking, like it’s a huge effort for him.

“That’s a good boy. So good, Jonathan. So obedient.”

Jonathan’s response is a wet, “Thank you, Sir.”

“So polite, too. Let me see.” You pull the buttplug out until the widest part is stretching his entrance, something that makes him whimper and have to try even harder to not move. “Hm. This is a good size. Perfect to stretch you just wide enough for your favorite dildo, isn’t it? Tell me.”

The boy under you takes deep, whining breaths, trying to calm himself down, before understanding he’s been given an order. “Y-Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” You pull the plug out even more, but push it in back, slowly, then back and forward again, creating a short rhythm that has Jonathan scrambling for a grip on the bed. “Let’s see how open you are.”

“Fuck!” Your words have him cursing out in ecstasy, but he then quickly recants. “I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Oh, Jonny. No need to apologize for that. So fucking hot when you curse.” You take the plug out as he whines, and leave it to the side. He’s stretched open, enough that you think you could fit the dildo, or two, maybe three of your fingers.

Still. Not open enough for you.

Your thumbs open his hole, making him clench around nothing. “You’re a good boy, baby. You did so much already. Can you stay good for me and let me stretch you more?”

“More?!”

You cackle. “Yes, sweetness. This is obviously not enough for my cock. I might hurt you if I fucked you as you are right now.” It seems like either your words alone or the situation in general make his legs stop working. He starts slipping down, almost collapsing on the bed, before you hold him up with your right arm. “Oh, what’s wrong, baby? Too much?”

“N-No— No, sorry, Sir. I’ll be g-good. Please stretch m-me more.”

You give him a low chuckle. “You are being good. Let me help you.” You stretch your left arm and grab the pillow in your bed, folding it in half to double its height. It goes under his hips now. “Lie down on it.” Jonathan obeys, but it’s obvious that he’s now incidentally found a place to rut his leaking cock against, because he moans so brokenly, but stills immediately. You decide to ignore this for the moment. “Better?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

You stretch until your face is near Jonathan’s and you give him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Good.”

After this, you kneel up and turn your body around to look through the contents of his safe. Jonathan feels cold without your contact, but stays in his place.

“Will you let me use your favorite one?”, you ask him, pointing at the black dildo in the safe.

He has to turn his head a bit to see you, but bites his lip and nods. It seems like he’s a bit abashed now, because he doesn’t call you ‘Sir’ and rather hides his face in the bed while giggling this time, but this is not a conventional scene, so you don’t tell him off.

You just chuckle in sympathy. “Okay. Do you want me to use your lube?”

He struggles to talk, sounding muffled in the mattress, but then lifts his face up. “Wh-Whatever you find best, Sir.”

“That’s right,” you growl at him, fondling his ass and rubbing at his hole with your thumb. “Leave it to me.”

You take a condom from his safe and leave it to the side, next to the lube that’s already on the bed. Next, you take off your shirt, throw it somewhere around the floor, and start taking off Jonathan’s lower clothes. Once he’s completely bare, you pull off your own remaining ones until you’re both naked.

“Alright. This is what’s gonna happen,” you start, the authority in your voice leaving no place for argument, and Jonathan exhales shakily. “I’m gonna use this dildo in you, just to get you used to the feeling of a real man’s cock.” You rub the tip of the silicone dildo up and down his stretched hole, to which Jonathan whines. “Then, I’m gonna start adding fingers next to the dildo, so I can get you nice and open enough for my cock.” Your free hand fondles his right asscheek. “Then I’m gonna finger you a bit more, just because I feel like it. And then I’m going to fuck you.” Jonathan can’t hold back and moans as he tries to get more of your hand. “Sound good?”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes, please, fuck me.”

You chuckle. “Eager.” You hold the dildo up. “You want me to use a condom on this?”

“Yes, please.”

Your face lowers to his ass and you leave a wet kiss on the cheek you were just fondling. “Good boy.” You reach out to grab another spare condom from the safe. You open it and lower it down the dildo. Then, you find the lube and spread it liberally on the sheathed toy. The tip of the tube goes on his ass, and you press on the tube to let some lube out. He flinches from the feel of it, and you chuckle. “Cold?” Jonathan nods, meekly. You close the lube, and leave it to the side for now.

Now, you hold the lubed dildo against his entrance, rubbing it around and softly pressing down to spread the lube.

“Ready?”

Jonathan nods and hides his face in the bed. He grabs the sheets for good measure.

The tip of the dildo goes in without much trouble, since he’s already stretched a good amount, but the way he clenches down repeatedly and moans is just so sinful.

“Oh, God. Sir.”

“Feels good?”

He nods quickly. “C-Can you put more in, please?”

Now you stretch over him and bite his nape. “Of course.” You push the rest of the dildo in him, slowly, but you think you could have done it all at once, since he takes it so nicely. The base of the dildo is flat and wide, easy to maneuver and push fully against his ass. “‘This a suction cup?”

“A-Ah… y-yes, Sir. Somet-times I like r-riding it.”

“That’s so fucking hot, Jonny. Maybe I’ll have you ride me sometime. How��s that sound?” You start pulling the dildo back, and then quickly push it in him.

He moans. “Y-Yes— Sounds s-so good, S-Sir.”

You lick a stripe up his spine to his nape, enjoying the unintelligible blubber he makes and the shiver of his body. “Good.”

You can only thrust in a few couple of times, receiving steamy moans from your boy every time, until he says: “Please! Stretch me m-more, Sir.”

“You want it now? But I was so entertained with this—”

“Please please please please Sir I need it.” His hips push the tiniest bit towards your hand.

“Oh, you got it so bad. Well. I guess I could,” you answer, like it’s a huge effort for you to give him this. Your right hand grabs the lube, opens it, and you expertly pour some on the same fingers that are holding the tube. Then you close it and leave it to the side. You rub your fingers together to spread the liquid better. Your left hand pulls the dildo out just a frame, enough for your right index finger to be able to press on his stretched rim, right under the dildo. “Just relax for me, baby.”

You let him take a deep breath before you start pressing down with force. Your fingertip starts opening his ass more, until it’s down to the first knuckle, then the second, and as Jonathan starts wailing and his feet moving frantically, you manage to fit the entirety of your index finger.

“Take a deep breath. That’s it. Just like that.” You soothe him and he complies. “You’re being so good for me. How does this feel? Hurts?”

“N-No, Sir. Just… different. Good.”

“Yeah, I bet it does. I’m gonna stretch you open so much, gonna make you feel so good on my cock.” He moans so loudly at that. “Only pleasure for you, sweetness. No pain.” You start moving both the dildo and your finger in and almost completely out of him in tandem.

“I— ahhh— I don’t m-mind a bit of—”

“Oh, yeah? You like a little pain? That mean I can fit another finger right now?” Your middle finger teases his rim, and his legs shake.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

So you begin pushing in the second finger, knowing it has to, at the very least, sting a bit, not having let him get used to the first finger yet. This time, it’s a tighter fit. The trembling in his body is almost frenetic at this point. He doesn’t know whether he wants you to keep going or stop, but you don’t give him a moment of respite until your second finger is all the way in.

He breathes in like he was just about to drown.

“Still good?”

This time, he takes a bit longer to answer. Some seconds pass until he nods, though it’s a more hesitant gesture now. The thumb of your right hand soothes the skin around his rim. Jonathan deserves a reward for being so good, so your thumb presses down against his perineum.

He screams.

“‘You ever done that? Play with your prostate from the outside?”

Jonathan moans like he’s crying and shakes his head.

You give him a small external massage on that place while you start a rhythm with both hands, in and out of him. Not much time passes until he no longer feels strung out, moaning freely and relaxing against the bed. Even now, as hard as he is and as much as you know he wants stimulation on his leaking cock, he hasn’t pressed himself against the pillow even once. He’s so obedient. You have no idea how you got so lucky.

You give him more of this, until he starts pushing back at you, just a minimum fraction. “C-Can you put another, Sir?”

“Of course, baby.” The ring finger is going to be the last one, you think. He’ll be sufficiently stretched after it, only enough to fit your cock but not too much. That way, he’ll truly feel the stretch, which is what you know he wants. So you start entering your last finger next to the ones already in, and this time, it’s a true challenge. There’s almost no more room. Not even the fingertip can be let in. “I’m gonna need you to relax more, sweetness. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good boy for me again?”

He’s breathing so noisily. He takes some seconds to try that before nodding. You press forward again, though not much changes.

“Try to push out a bit, yeah?”

“‘Push out’?!” He’s so scandalized at that that he laughs nervously, but still does as he’s told.

You’re now able to enter him better. The slide is difficult, made only a tad easier by the lube, and you manage to fit your finger bit by painstaking bit, until you have three fingers in him alongside the dildo.

Jonathan starts sobbing.

“Oh, Jon. Hurts too much?”

He can’t even answer. He’s so overwhelmed that he has to press his face against the bed to compose himself. “N-No,” is his hoarse answer. “I l-love it. I just… feel so full.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Your thumb gives him some stimulation. “Should I keep going?”

“Y-Yes, please. Sir. Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my boy.” You start a slow pace, still letting him get used to this. Jonathan’s hands grip the bedsheets on the sides of his head. His legs fold and shake, like he can’t control them. “You’re an angel. So obedient.”

He keens at the praise.

“So pretty when you cry, too. You’d make the best picture right now.”

“Oh my God.”

“Don’t you think? I imagine you could bring the camera next time and you could take pictures of yourself, crying as I’m fucking you.” You chuckle. “I mean, if you’re coherent enough.”

He does the most pornographic sound now, like he’s an animal in heat. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Sir. Please.”

The state he’s in is simply too good for the eyes. You grunt as you rub your untouched cock against his thigh, leaving a trail of precum on it. He makes a little trill when he feels it. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, Sir. N-Need your cock. Need you t-to fuck me hard.”

You try to calm down and appear nonchalant. “Hmm…” You start pulling out the dildo and your fingers at the same time. He yelps, sounding almost pained when he’s empty. “I thought I was calling the shots here. I remember saying I would play a bit more after this.” With that, you press four fingers in him, an easy slide now that he’s so stretched, and start a ruthless pace in and out of him.

He screams so loudly, so high-pitched, that you’re almost afraid he’ll be hoarse by the end of this. “N-Noooo— please— Sir, I n-need—!”

You lay your left hand on his left cheek, not hard enough to slap, but hard enough for it to count as a tap, and he gasps. “I’ll give you what you need, boy. Now stay still.”

“Y-Yes— sorry, S-Sir. Th-Thank you, Sir.” Jonathan stills as much as he can, still loudly crying. The tears that roll down his cheeks make him look so debauched.

“My good boy.” Your fingertips press harshly against that bundle of nerves, and this has him thrashing for a second until your other hand gropes him hard, and he keeps still once more, but it’s a huge effort now. It’s a fast pace against his prostate now. You intend to have him beg for your cock even more before you cave in, but until then, you’re going to have your fun. You push out and pull in, fast and hard enough for his body to jiggle and for your fingers to tap his prostate hard.

He cries so much, whines like he’s being denied something. “Ah— Sir, I-I’m gonna come t-too soon— if y-you— keep—”

“Yeah? Ever come just from this? From playing with your prostate?”

He shakes his head, making small pleas here and there.

“Fucking hot. I bet I could make you cum on my cock alone.” Jonathan yells when he hears that.

You quickly pull your fingers out before he can start clenching repeatedly. He makes a shrill noise.

Your hands spread him. “Look at how wet and open you are for me. Did such a good job letting me in.”

And he cries so hard now. “Please!”

“It’s okay, baby. You did so good. You deserve a reward.” You wipe your wet hand on the sheets and grab the remaining condom. After tearing it open as quickly as you can and rolling it on your hard cock, you pour some of the lube. Then, you lay the length of your sheathed cock in-between his cheeks. “Feel how different this is. Very warm, right? Unlike your little dildo here. And so big, too.”

Jonathan moans so desperately, his words —if they can be considered that— unintelligible.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good. Gonna ruin you for all these toys of yours.”

“Oh my G— oh my God.”

You press the tip of your cock against his stretched entrance. Immediately, his hands reach back, looking for yours. You take his hands and stroke them. “Nervous?”

He takes deep breaths before answering. “Y-Yes.”

“I’m gonna start very slow, so don’t worry.”

“I-It’s— it’s not that. It’s— okay— you can g-go f—”

“You want me to go fast?” One of your hands, your right one, gives his own one last caress and you then grab your member. “Let’s just start slowly, yeah? Then we’ll see.”

Jonathan has nothing to say to that, because in the next moment, you start pushing in, easily, up to a certain point. He starts breathing in and out frenetically, almost to the point of hyperventilation, when the last of your head struggles to push in. He wails, he sobs, his legs kick against the bed, and he holds onto your left hand like it’s his lifeline. “Hurts.”

“Yeah? Should we stop?” Your right hand strokes along his back, trying to soothe him.

“N-No, I l-like it. More. Please.”

You chuckle. “Who knew you were such a size queen, Jon?” You don’t give him time to get used, then. Pushing forward more and more, you find he tries to push out at the same time, just like you’ve told him little time ago. Even that seems to only help him minimally. He grunts at the effort of fitting such a big cock in him. “Almost there, sweetheart.” You start giving him short thrusts, in and out, trying to get him acclimated.

“S-So full. So full, Sir.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Your short thrusts go further each time, until there’s only a very short space until you bottom out.

Jonathan’s left hand grabs onto yours strongly, but he’s pushing you to him now.

“Oh, you want all of it?”

With one forceful thrust, you bury yourself in him entirely.

Jonathan’s sound is undescribable. He sounds like he’s crying, babbling something, and choking at the same time. His body seems to lose all its strength, because he all but collapses on the bed in his position; the only reason why he’s still up is because of the pillow under him and your left hand grabbing his.

You’re afraid he might have passed out.

“Jon?” You shake his shoulder with your right hand.

He makes the most fantastic noise in response. It’s something so vulgar, so raspy, and it almost sounds like he’s gone stupid with pleasure.

You can’t help but chuckle. “Feel good? Doesn’t hurt?”

Jonathan doesn’t answer verbally at first. He makes sounds as if he were drawing in as much breath as he can, and then answers: “Uh-huh.”

“Gonna need words, sweetness. What does that mean?” You’re so amused at him, and at the same time think he’s the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

His left hand, which has sort of gone slack on yours, moves to let you know he’s not completely out of it. “It’s. G-Good. Hurts s-so good.” Before you can answer, he continues. “W-Want you to fuck m-me fast. Please.”

“Fuck, baby. You sure you can take it?”

“Y-Yes— I like n-not taking… not taking time when I…”

“Oh, I get it now.” Immediately, you pull back, and push in forcefully, making him scream. You start a fast pace right away as he thrashes as much as he can. “What a little pervert you are, Jon. You like pain,” a strong thrust, “…you like it big,” another even stronger one, “…and you’re so greedy you can’t even wait for it.” The force of your thrusts create loud slapping noises against his ass, only rivalled by his screams. “It’s like I got the fucking lottery, here.”

The fact that Jonathan didn’t want to get used to the size of your cock makes the beginning part of this so much more exerting. It feels like his nerve endings are on fire, and everything feels so much, overwhelming. He’s crying so loud it’s almost worrying, but he loves every second of this. Loves having to work to fit such a big member in him, have it fuck him so deeply, unlike any of his toys ever could. The searing heat of your cock has tears falling down his face. And the friction is undescribable. It almost feels like he’s not prepared enough, not lubed enough, but he is. He’s just too small in comparison to you, not made to fit something so big in him. But his hard work is paying off, because his insides keep stretching more and more with every thrust given into him, opening him so much that he feels as if you were carving your place into him.

“So fucking pretty when you cry, too.”

Jonathan moans desperately when he hears your praise. He’s so sensitive to it, even the smallest nice words can have him leaking more onto the pillow.

And then, in one of those thrusts, your cock presses down against his prostate.

“Sir!” He shouts it so loudly. “Again again please again.”

“That place feel good?” You don’t give him what he wants in its entirety. You start fucking against his prostate in random intervals, only enough to keep him on his toes, but not enough to overwhelm him. “Damn, Jonathan. I’m so deep in you, stretching you so much, I can feel it. You’re gonna be gaping so bad after this.”

For some reason, that’s his breaking point. He shocks himself with the way he’s suddenly cumming so hard against the pillow, untouched, while you struggle to keep fucking him through his clenching.

“Already? That’s so fucking hot, Jon,” you grunt as you start slowing your thrusts, but he shocks you with what he says.

“D-Don’t stop— please— don’t st-stop.”

You chuckle. “Y’sure? It’ll take a bit more for me, baby.” You continue your hard thrusts, not slowing down even a minimum fraction while he’s still in the last throes of his orgasm.

You know he’s done cumming when his moans start turning into desperate yells. When every single second of friction has him thrashing and screaming against you, you decide to test the waters. You lie fully on top of him, covering his chest with your back, opting to give him short, quick thrusts that dig deep into him.

“Come on. You wanted this, didn’t you?” Your cock inadvertently presses against his prostate without you meaning to, and his crying gets louder and more desperate. “Didn’t you?”, you have to repeat, just in case he’s about to regret it.

“Ah—! Y-Yes, Sir. I l-love it.”

“Yeah? You like when I use you?”

At that, Jonathan can do no more than wail and have his body try to curl in itself, unable to take the overwhelming sensations. “Yes! Please, u-use me, S-Sir. I’m y— I’m your t-toy!”

He’s going to be your ruin. Quickly, you encircle his torso with your arms and lift him so that he’s sitting up with you. “Hold onto my neck.” He’s so out of it that he doesn’t understand the order until you’re gathering his legs with your arms, hooking them on the juncture of your elbows, and then standing up, lifting him and dropping him on your cock while he scrambles for purchase on your neck.

“Oh my God.”

Your arms, still holding his legs, slide up his body until your hands manage to hook against his nape, and he’s now in such a vulgar position it could very well appear in the raunchiest of skin mags. Once he understands that he’s about to be fucked like this, in such a helpless position, he sobs even harder.

“Sir.”

[IMAGE - WARNING: 18+]

You fuck up into him harshly, keeping him in place with your strong grip, though the jostling of your thrusts moves him up a slight fraction. Jonathan’s hands scramble for a grip on your arms this time, feeling how deep this position allows you to reach. His eyes roll back with every strong push, feeling how it pushes against the deepest part of him, a pressure so intense it’s almost painful against the end of his walls. He feels almost as if you were thrusting right into his stomach with how big you are. And he wails when most of your thrusts push against his prostate. The frequency with which you’re stimulating it is too much for him, pushes him closer and closer to delirium the more time that passes.

You don’t talk now, too engrossed in witnessing Jonathan losing his sanity, even if you can’t see his face. It’s so hot to see how he doesn’t sob that much anymore, rather starts moaning, fully accustomed to your cock now. You hold him tighter against you and give him a short, quicker pistoning of your cock, and the gradual change is almost unbearable: his moans turn into high-pitched whines, then into simple gasps, and then.

And then he starts making noises that sound as if he were giggling. Laughing even.

“Oh, my boy,” you grunt near his ear, because you’re getting close, and then chuckle. “You’re losing it.”

The euphoria in Jonathan’s face will be unforgettable for sure. He’s simply so debauched, eyes rolling back and almost drooling from the overwhelming feelings. His hands barely holding onto your arms, since his strength is weaning. But he’s coherent enough to rasp out: “In me. C-Come in— me, S-Sir. W-Want you to c-cum inside. Want t-to cum with you.”

His words have you fucking him so roughly now that his previous loud moaning resumes. You’re almost there. “Yeah? You want me to fill you up even more?” It’s all useless talk since you have a condom on, but the visual is so stunning you can’t help but add fuel to the fire.

Jonathan can’t even speak from how stimulated he is, but he doesn’t need to. The crazed laugh he releases at your words is more than enough answer.

“Yeah, you do.” Your thrusts turn erratic. You growl at his ear. “Now, be a good boy and come.”

Almost as if on command, Jonathan’s body seizes, and something truly spectacular happens. He comes, he comes so hard that his mouth is open on a silent scream, and he comes so hard that he starts— convulsing in your grip, thrown into a full-body orgasm that almost pushes him off you.

His repetitive clenching is enough to push you to the edge. You fill the condom inside him as your thrusts halt in small bursts, all while grunting right into his ear.

His erratic movements are so prolonged, so intense that you’re worried about him, so you sit on the edge of the bed, then lie down, taking him with you as you do and lower his legs as softly as you can. Then, he stops.

His body goes fully lax against you just as the last of your orgasm ends.

“Jon?” You take his face in your right hand, unable to see him in this angle. You pull out of him with him still on top of you, and he doesn’t even make a noise, doesn’t move a single muscle. You lay him on the bed next to you and crawl until you’re face to face with him.

Right in that moment, he regains consciousness, coming to with a high-pitched gasp. He looks disoriented for a second.

“Damn, you worried me for a second, Jonny.”

He’d make the prettiest picture just like this. Debauched, clearly just fucked, hair messed up, tear trails down his cheeks. “H-How long—”

“Just a second, sweetheart.”

Jonathan relaxes against the bed, breathing deeply, until he regains his footing. Then, he smiles at you. “Thank you, Sir.”

You chuckle at him, and lie next to him, holding him close to you. “Why are you thanking me?”

It seems like he regains some of his bearings, because he gets shy again, and presses his face against your chest. “I dunno,” he mumbles against your skin.

He’s so precious. Only he could get this abashed right after the most obscene sex ever had.

“You were right. You ruined me for anything else. How am I supposed to use these now?” He vaguely gestures at the open safe you had totally forgotten was still on the bed.

You laugh out loud. “Well. It’s a good thing you’re not gonna need them anymore. Not when you have me.”

The cassette is ASMR, but I didn’t want to use that acronym specifically because I read that ASMR was invented around 2010.

And yes I put Jonathan in a full nelson in the end.

#stranger things x male reader #jonathan byers x male reader #top male reader #fanfic

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