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exphhoria · 5 months

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Sweet as a melody

How the genshin men sound ft. Albedo, Childe, Scaramouche, Kazuha, Venti, Zhongli, Gorou, Cyno, Bennett, Aether, Xiao, Tighnari, and Kaveh

CW : Dom!reader x sub!character, Childe / Scara / Kaveh are brats, Bennett is aged up, penetration ( characters ), mention of penetration!receiving ( Childe ), light degradation ( Kazuha ), choking ( Venti ), semi-public ( Kazuha / Venti / Gorou ), overstimulation ( Zhongli ), dacryphilia ( Cyno / Bennett / Xiao / Kaveh ), breeding ( Aether ), spanking ( Zhongli ), praise ( Gorou ), edging ( Kaveh )

Albedo is all quick breaths, sharp inhales, and quiet groans, but when he’s thoroughly fucked out ( think- after an orgasm or two ), he lets out prettiest, unrestrained moans. He has a small dick that flushes pink at the tip and it’s so sensitive. Frot against it, and he’ll quickly be gasping and biting down on your neck to quiet his moans.

。。。

Childe is mostly curses, your name, and grunts and groans. After a few rounds, he can’t speak properly so all that comes out are sounds vaguely resembling words. “F-fuck y/n- do-don’t stop” “Shit, you’re tight” P.S. brat right here ! Fuck his brains out until he can’t remember any of his usual cockiness. Childe acts like he’s all that, but it doesn’t take much for him to unravel under you, begging you to let him cum.

。。。

Scara tries to act all tough at the start, putting on an act of defiance. Soon enough his “Fuck you”s and “I’m gonna kill you”s turn into loud, choked moans and pants of “a-ah! Right there” and “S-shit harderfsggs!” His pride only holds up for so long before you thoroughly ruin him ( he’s such a brat, pls put him in his place )

。。。

Kazuha has high, breathy moans. They’re not extremely loud, but not quiet either. He’s also very mischievous and not shy about telling you how you make him feel. He’ll often whisper into your ear in public, describing to you all the things he wants you to do to him. Get back at him by wrapping your arms around his waist and toying with his nipples, discreetly rubbing the sensitive buds. He’ll turn into a blushing mess, squirming and stuttering. Just know that you’ll have to take responsibility for what you started ! Pull him into an alleyway to fuck him silly. “Better keep quiet, love,” you’ll mutter, “or do you want everyone to hear what a slut you are?” He’ll do his best to keep quiet, biting down on his lip in the most seductive way as you make quick work of him.

。。。

There’s a certain bard who does not know how hold back in the slightest. Of course, this mischievous little bard is Venti. He moans like a whole ass pornstar. He’s so loud. If you don’t have sound proof walls, you’ll need to either choke him or gag him with your fingers to keep him quiet ( lest you want the whole neighborhood to know what you’re up to ). Kiss him until he’s gasping for air and his legs buckle underneath him. Venti wants everyone to know how good you make him feel, always leaving the windows open just in case someone walks by, only to see him pushed up against a wall with his legs spread wide and tongue lulling out while you pound into him.

。。。

Zhongli tries to hide his lack of composure, but when you’re filling him up so perfectly, it’s hard to keep quiet. He has these low grunts and moans that come out all pretty and broken when overstimmed. He looks so gorgeous with his back arched and ass in the air just for you. Slap it, hard, and don’t apologize after. If you spank him in public, he’ll only glare at you sternly, secretly hoping you don’t notice the subtle tent forming in his pants.

。。。

Gorou tries to stifle his moans at first, after all, he has a reputation to maintain, y’know? Especially because you always seem to want to embarrass him, dragging him into his tent and fucking him right there in the camps. It’s so hard for him to keep quiet when you’re making him feel so good, but he’ll try his best to be a good for you. Tell him how well he’s doing, staying quiet despite taking your cock and he’ll cum right then and there from the praise. When you’re alone, that’s when he can finally let loose, clawing at the sheets, your back, anything he can reach and moaning and gasping like he’s within an inch of his life.

。。。

Cyno has these soft, airy moans that drive you absolutely insane. If you’re not already, hearing his pretty little whimpers make you want to completely ruin him until the only words on his tongue are your name and his face is streaked with tears. He’s so obedient for you, not cumming unless you give him the command. It’s not his fault if he messes up and cums all over himself, not when you hit that perfect spot inside of him. Take pity and don’t punish him, okay? After all, such a good boy following your commands.

。。。

Bennett was definitely a virgin before meeting you. He cries really easily too and has these pretty little whimpers that make your dick twitch while still inside him. It doesn’t take much until he’s babbling out a broken, “A-agh! To-too much… can- can’t cum any- ah m-mmgh more.” He passes out after just a few rounds bc he can’t handle all the sensations of how good you make him feel. Manhandle him pls, he loves the feeling of losing control and letting someone have full power over him.

。。。

Aether is very vocal in bed, not bothering to mask how loud he is. His moans are high pitched and mellow, sweet as honey. He’s always trying to tell you to go faster, but he’s so far gone that the only sounds that come out are his incoherent babbling interrupted by gasps and moans as he chokes on tears. He’s such a slut, not satisfied even after cum is leaking from his hole and dripping down his thighs. Pls breed him until he’s so filled with your cum, there’s a visible bulge on his stomach. With how rough you are, he can only come up with so many excuses before his colleagues start to wonder how he’s always losing his voice !!

。。。

Inexperienced Xiao ftw !! He’s another one to have very breathy moans, lots of gasps and grunts too. In all the years he’s lived as an adeptus, he’s never had his insides so utterly wrecked. You’re just so big ! He can’t help the tears that stain his face nor the way his eyes roll back when you kiss his prostate so exquisitely. He’s quick to pass out, cum spilling out of his hole as he clenches on nothing. Keep fucking him while he’s unconscious and his eyebrows will furrow is the most beautifully delicate way.

。。。

Oh my gosh- Tighnari is so needy. You don’t have sex often, but when you do, it’s rough. After being pent up for so long, he wants to be fully ruined. He’ll whine and pant, begging you to go faster, to let him cum. He’ll claw at your back, leaving countless love bites on your neck and shoulders. The only thing he can do to stop from screaming is biting down on your tender flesh and whimpering into your neck. He’ll be too dazed to speak, only loud moans and whines coming out from his marred throat. He won’t be satisfied unless he’s cum at least 5 times. He’ll try to get up early to groom himself and get to work so you’ll just have to keep fucking him until it’s dawn and he’s passed out from pleasure.

。。。

Kaveh whimpers btw. He’s a brat too, he’ll pretend he’s tough and doesn’t like it, but when he’s close to cumming, he’ll be too busy chasing his release to keep pretending. He’s another clawer, be prepared to have your back covered in scratch marks for the next few days. It’ll look like you got attacked by a hilichurl ( or a cat ), best to just let people believe that’s the case. He likes to tease you in public so you’ll just have to punish him later by edging him until he’s sobbing and begging you to please let him cum. “P-please hic, I swear I won’t- mmMgh do it again”

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puppy-steve · 5 months

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Robin has spent plenty of time watching Steve Harrington from the shadows. The way he continuously stayed on the sidelines of the rest of his friends’ bullying was interesting. He never said too much of anything when it happened, didn’t look all that interested in it, either. Just leaned against a locker and looked bored out of his mind.

Until a week before Thanksgiving break a couple years ago, when Tommy Hagan started bragging to anyone who’d listen about how Steve got his shit rocked by Jonathan Byers and promptly dumped him and Carol to the curb after. Sure, Tommy made sure to mention that Steve was the one to push until Jonathan finally snapped and punched him, but he didn’t say how Steve had gone limp after. Letting Byers rearrange his face until a teacher ran over to break them up.

She remembers how lost he’d looked in the aftermath. Like he was a shell of himself.

So yeah. Steve Harrington isn’t the same person he was in high school. Or at least he’s trying not to be, that much Robin has noticed since he started working at Scoops at the beginning of the summer. But she didn’t think he’d changed so much to be openly flirting with the Freak of Hawkins.

Well. Not exactly flirting, but there’s something there Robin can’t quite put her finger on.

Steve’s manning the counter, right where she’d left him twenty minutes ago, but instead of looking like the picture of boredom slinging ice cream to annoying kids, he’s leaned his elbows on the counter where Eddie Munson is doing the same on the other side. They’re too quiet for Robin to hear what they’re talking about but Steve’s fingers are hooked on Eddie’s watch, not pulling or tugging. Just resting.

Eddie’s hands are clasped in front of him but his pointer finger keeps reaching out to lightly stroke Steve’s arm, and that’s when it hits Robin like a slap in the face.

They’re domestic.

The lobby is empty, save for Eddie’s friends that now occupy one of the booths, loudly arguing over something but Robin could care less because at that moment, Steve says something that has Eddie letting out a cackle laugh, his nose scrunched up and his shoulders shaking as he laughs. Her eyes slide over to Steve and he’s.

Huh.

Gone is the usual smug smirk that graces his face when a girl laughs at one of his (awful) jokes, and is replaced by something… fond. His face is relaxed into a small smile and his round Bambi eyes are shining with mirth. Like he’d expected this reaction. Sometime during this, their fingers have tangled together in a subtle hand-hold across the counter and holy shit.

Steve Harrington is dating Eddie Munson.

One of Eddie’s friends (Jeff, she thinks. They had pre-calc together.) says something and Steve only rolls his eyes as he replies. Eddie’s grinning at them over his shoulder. Neither of their postures have changed. Robin feels like the room’s spinning.

She knows about Eddie. Eddie knows about her. It’s never been verbally said, but birds of a feather and all that. It doesn’t have to be. She must accidentally bump into something in her attempt to rebalance the world because Steve’s head is snapping toward her and panic flashes in his eyes as he tries to rip his hands away from Eddie’s.

Eddie only holds them tighter as he locks eyes with her.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he tells Steve in a hushed tone. In front of him, Steve’s visibly shaking like a leaf, mouth opening and closing but not making a sound. Robin’s heart breaks a little. He looks downright terrified. Eddie’s eyes haven’t left her. “She’s safe. Aren’t you, Birdie?”

The question is directed at her. She swallows and nods quickly. “Y-yeah!” She winces at the volume of it. Clearing her throat, she tries again, taking a step forward like she’s approaching a frightened animal. “You can trust me, Steve.” Uses his first name instead of the ‘dingus’ that’s grown affectionate. “I'm—” She glances over at the booth that’s gone quiet. She doesn’t want to out herself to the entire freak population of Hawkins High.

“I’m a friend,” she settles on.

It takes Steve a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, his eyes somehow grow bigger in understanding. “Oh,” he breathes out, like a sigh of relief. Eddie’s rubbing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.

“Yeah, dingus.” Robin’s close enough now to nudge his shoulder with hers. “Oh. Why don’t you go on break? I’ve got this.”

Steve gives her a grateful look and tugs Eddie to the booth to join Eddie’s —their— friends.

“It’s about damn time you guys remembered the rest of us,” the curly haired one complains as they both slide in on the same side. Eddie throws a straw wrapper at him and Robin stops paying attention after that.

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

#cj talks #steddie #gseb #steddie ficlet #cj writes #steddie fic

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lovebugism · 6 months

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hey honey can i request a shy!reader x grumpy!eddie , maybe they’re pumpkin picking with friends & something angsty ensues but then fluffy & after they all go eat at the diner and get spooky themed orders 🤭

thanks for requesting lovie! — eddie gets grumpy on a fall outing with the gang (shy!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1.3k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s a big ol’ grump at Eugene’s Pumpkin Patch, but he’s being really brave about it. He follows you like a puppy, visibly unamused about the whole thing but trying hard to be a good boyfriend despite his woe.

“Ah! Look at this one!” you gasp at the sight of a pumpkin, in a sea of bright orange pumpkins.

Swallowed whole by your sweater, you crouch in the tall grass and reach for the tiny round thing hidden in it. The runt pumpkin sits neatly in your palms. “It’s so wittle,” you singsong up at Eddie in a tiny, high-pitched voice.

He smiles despite himself, laughing even though he’s grumpy, ‘cause you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m gonna get this one,” you announce affirmatively when you rise to full height again.

“You made me drive an hour out just to get the tiniest pumpkin they have?” Eddie asks, laughing still but with a subtle bite of annoyance.

You try to ignore it, though the weight of his aggravation makes you writhe. “But it’s cute…” you defend with a weak shrug. “And also, you have to get one, remember?”

You take a tentative step towards Eddie, standing chest to chest. He huffs and puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. His chocolate eyes flit around the expansive farm, dull and unimpressed. “They all look the same, so… I don’t think it really matters.”

“It does matter!” you insist, girlish and quiet and stubborn. “You have to pick the one you like the most— that’s the whole point!”

“You’re telling me there’s an art to pumpkin picking?” the boy teases with a crooked grin, tilting his head to the side so his curls bunch at his shoulder.

Still clutching the tiniest pumpkin either of you have ever seen, you nod. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

He scoffs again in a curt laugh. He looks around again, only to point to the one sitting by his feet.

“Alright… How about that one?”

“Eddie!”

“What?” he whines in the same pouty tone as you.

“Can you at least pretend you’re having fun?” you murmur, a bit sad you have to even ask.

You always spiral when he gets weird, secretly terrified that it’s all your fault. He doesn’t talk, so you overthink. Your brain gets mean, and you need Eddie to make you feel better — but he can’t because he’s weird. It’s unbearable. For both of you.

“It’s cold and rainy and Steve’s pants gave me a headache on the way over and I don’t feel good, okay? I’m sorry,” Eddie rambles with a pout, looking visibly pained about all of it.

Any excitement you had left leaves you like an ebbing tide. “Okay,” you mutter with a soft nod.

“I’m gonna go smoke,” the boy announces.

He smacks a fleeting kiss to your cheek before he goes but doesn’t bother to invite you to come with him. He doesn’t feel very deserving of your company right now, too selfish in his woe and painfully self-aware about it.

You stand in place while he walks back to the van, feeling utterly alone and unwanted.

“Where’d Eddie go?” Steve wonders when he walks up to you with Robin at his side.

They carry two pumpkins each, struggling with each of them because they’ve somehow managed to find the biggest ones on the whole farm. You figure they made a bet about it because everything’s a competition with them.

“Um… to smoke, I think,” you answer shyly, embarrassed to have been found alone for a reason you can’t name. “He just kinda… left.”

Robin scoffs. “I think he’s on his period,” she jokes with a gritty laugh.

“Yeah. He said my pants looked stupid before we left. I knew something was up.”

The brunette girl side-eyes the boy beside her. “I think he might’ve been right about that one, Stevie.”

You make a quiet exit when they begin to bicker back and forth. You duck through the bustling pumpkin patch and try not to trip in the tall grass on your way to Eddie’s van.

Your boots crunch over the gravel of the parking lot. You find him leaning against the trunk, blowing out smoke from his pink mouth, slouching like he’s weighed down by his own sadness.

“You okay, Eds?” you ask to announce your arrival.

His eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. He’d pretend to be fine if it didn’t take all the energy he had left. “No,” he answers honestly, then quickly corrects, “I mean— I am, but… I feel bad. I was acting like a dick…”

“Yeah,” you concur with a nod. “You were.”

He’s too shocked to hide it on his face. You’re never normally so confrontational. You’re usually too quiet for that, too soft. And you still are now, because you always are, but he feels like he deserves to see this sterner side of you.

“But it’s okay. I know you didn’t wanna come in the first place.”

He turns on his shoulder when you stand at his side, towering over you as he flicks the butt of his cigarette. “Yeah, but… I didn’t have to be such an asshole to you about it. I feel like I fuckin’ ruined this whole day, you know?”

“We all have our moments, Eds. It’s no big deal,” you assure with a weak shrug and a stronger smile. “We still have the whole afternoon left— you didn’t ruin anything. Doesn’t make me love you any less, either.”

Your words make him grin. Like, really grin — all wide and rosy and boyish. You make him smile like nothing’s ever hurt him. Like nothing’s ever been wrong in his life. Fuck, he’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he mumbles but doesn’t give you a chance to answer. He tosses the cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with his sneaker right before kissing you absolutely stupid.

He wraps his arms around your neck, smothering your face with his. No one’s ever been kissed as hard as he’s kissing you now. The realization makes you smile too wide to kiss him back.

He pulls away from you with a hearty smack. With pinker lips and chocolate eyes, he grins hopefully down at you. “So you’re not mad at me?” he wonders, gentle like a child.

“Yes,” you nod, playfully firm. “I’m very mad, actually.”

Eddie’s smile widens. He knows you’re joking and decides to lean into it. “What can I do then, huh?” he murmurs lowly to you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How can I make it up to you?”

He wants to kiss you again. He wants to get you in the back of his van in a vacant parking lot. He wants you to tell him to make you feel good and not to stop until you’re pushing him away.

You know all of this, ‘cause you can practically read his mind, so you decide to drive him crazier. “I want you…” you start in the same low tone, bordering on sultry.

Eddie’s already nodding.

You smile and continue.

“…To go pick your most favorite pumpkin in the whole patch, and then take me to Benny’s Burgers.”

Feeling slightly disappointed and utterly teased, Eddie searches the entire patch and finds the weirdest-shaped, wartiest pumpkin the earth has ever grown. He drives the gang to the diner after and sits you in his lap when all of you squeeze into one booth.

He shares his milkshake with you and lets you have the pickle slice that comes with his burger when you ask for it (‘cause everyone knows it’s the best part). It’s the purest form of love, if he has anything to say about it.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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moonstruckme · 6 months

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Can you do poly!marauders where reader has kinda a shitty family? Like, where their family belittles them and insults them and gets mad over them existing so whe reader is back at hogwarts the next year she's as fragile as a china shop uncomfortablely close to a bull farm??

Only do it if your comfortable with it <3

Make sure to take care of yourself and remeber you are loved <3 <3

Thanks for requesting, love you and hope you're taking care of yourself as well <3

cw: hints at emotional abuse

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re quiet, all of a sudden. The distance over the last few months had been rough for all of you, gone to your separate homes for the summer, but Remus is beginning to suspect it was most difficult for you; you can’t seem to find your way back to them. It’s like you’ve constructed a shell around yourself over the short three months you’ve been apart, and none of James’ loving, Sirius’ teasing, or Remus’ offerings of a study companion have proved successful in drawing you back out.

He’s sure you think you’re being subtle. You certainly haven’t addressed your boyfriends’ worries, either missing or ignoring the looks they send each other when you don’t jump in on a joke they’re doing or answer in a quiet, meek voice when they ask you a question. It’s as if you’re afraid of being heard, of being noticed at all.

Remus doesn’t like it one bit.

Neither do the others, of course, and he and James have had to talk Sirius down from confronting you about it multiple times already in the week since you’ve been back. You seem…fragile, somehow, and Remus doesn’t think pushing you will get the results they all want. James seems to think you’ll come back to them on your own if they give you time, and Remus isn’t so sure, but it’s the plan he’s rolling with for now.

Still, he doesn’t think it’s out of line to intervene when he catches you carrying a stack of books that has to be half your weight. Last year, he’s positive you would have asked for help, but now you only grunt quietly as the stack wobbles above your head.

“Let me take some of those for you,” Remus offers, already standing, and you flinch as if your distracting him from his homework is a punishable offense. The stack teeters dangerously with your sudden movement.

“That’s okay,” you squeak, leaning back a bit in an attempt to get your tower of books under control. You look timid, wide-eyed like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, afraid of getting in trouble. “You can sit back down, I’ve—” You don’t even get the chance to finish your excuse before the books topple, scattering about. Remus flinches internally when some fall down on your head, and another sends an empty glass on the edge of the coffee table crashing to the ground.

You cover your mouth with your hand, staring in silent horror at the mess around you.

James and Sirius, playing cards on the other side of the coffee table, look up at the commotion.

“Shit,” Sirius says (a rather eloquent sum-up in Remus’ opinion). “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe, crouching and beginning to gather the broken glass in your hands. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I did that.”

“Don’t—be careful,” Remus starts to say, but then you lose your balance, stepping backwards just slightly and letting out a tiny hiss.

Remus stands, but James gets to you first, careful to keep away from the broken glass himself as he lifts you clear of the debris and deposits you onto the couch.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, impossibly quiet. You’re looking between your boyfriends as if unsure what they want you to do.

“Angel, it’s okay,” James insists, coming to sit down in front of you. “We’ll clean it up in a bit, don’t worry. Did you hurt yourself?”

You look down at your foot, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

“A little,” you admit. “Sorry.”

“Stop that,” Remus says sternly. “It was a mistake. We only care that you’re hurt.”

You look conflicted, and Remus can practically see your next apology forming on your tongue, but before you can utter it, James asks gently, “Can I have a look, sweetheart?”

You blink at him, nodding hesitantly. James is careful as he takes your ankle in his hand, lifting your foot in front of his face. His expression clears a little. “Okay, it’s just a little piece,” he says, adjusting his hold before picking out a tiny bit of glass and flicking it into the pile with the rest. “There you go.”

You nod your thanks, curling your foot underneath you. You’re being quiet as a rabbit, Remus thinks, all tense and wary but afraid to make a single sound. Whether you notice or not, the unease in the room grows with every second of your silence.

Finally, it appears Sirius can’t be held at bay any longer.

“Alright,” he says, more frustration in his tone than Remus thinks is really a good idea, “what’s going on with you?”

You look surprised. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You’ve been acting like someone’s going to shout at you ever since we got back this year.” Sirius lowers his voice, eyebrows scrunching together just slightly. “It was being at home, wasn’t it? Something happened.”

You flush, and Remus feels suddenly like this is a conversation he has no right to be in. Of course Sirius would be the one to pick up on it if your family was what was making you act this way. No wonder he’d been so insistent they needed to get to the bottom of it. That’s something he can understand, whereas Remus and James never could.

“Nothing happened,” you say, and Sirius narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe you. “I just…okay, don’t be mad.”

“No one is going to be mad at you, sweetheart,” Remus says, feeling like his heart is working its way up his throat with the words. “We’re just…you’ve seemed so different, and it’s scaring us a little bit. We just want to know what we can do to help.”

You look hesitant, and James reaches forward, taking your hand in both of his and rubbing at it with his thumbs. You nod, seeming a bit more confident now, and say, “There’s nothing you can really do. I just need some time.”

James nods back, looking at you with brown eyes big and open and understanding. Remus often wishes he could convey even half James’ earnestness, but he doesn’t know anyone with the same capacity for warmth. “Time for what, darling?”

You nibble on your lower lip, and Remus has to repress the urge to rescue it from between your teeth. “Well, we didn’t really get close until a couple months into fall term last year, right?”

“Right,” James agrees.

“So…I wouldn’t expect you to know, but it always sort of takes me a bit to…adjust back to school life.”

Sirius still looks like he wants to fight something, but he’s more careful to keep his anger out of his voice now. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “You’re not wrong. My family isn’t always as…patient with me as you guys are. They’re not awful, it’s just, I get into a habit of being quieter around them.” Remus’ heart feels like lead in his chest. “It takes me a while to get out of the habit once I get back.”

“Honey,” James murmurs, not looking much better than Remus feels. “I’m sorry.”

You give him a little smile, shifting uncomfortably. “You don’t need to act like it’s such a tragedy,” you joke. “I’ll get over it soon.”

James looks distressed, but Remus cuts in. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can be yourself at home, lovely girl,” he says in what he hopes is a light but soothing tone, unsure what you need right now but gathering from your demeanor that it’s not their pity. He slides his arm around your back to tug you closer to him. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

You hum contentedly, leaning against his side. “Not really,” you reply. “You guys are too good to me, it’s hard to be quiet around you for long.”

“Good,” Sirius says firmly, “because we don’t want you to. Want to go scream off the astronomy tower, sweet thing? Maybe that’ll help loosen you up.”

“Actually, I’d really like to clean up my mess before someone comes down here and steps on it,” you admit. “But maybe we can try your yelling thing tomorrow.”

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lovingseventeen · 5 months

Text

matchy-matchy with seventeen

a/n: me in my single era pt 2093520395 and here’s me projecting just a little bit yk. also i tried really hard to make these creative i hope it went well

seungcheol: jackets

✧ specifically varsity jackets or those racing jackets

✧ maybe not exactly the same, maybe it’s the same style of jacket but in different, but complementary colors

✧ absolutely loves knowing that it’s so easy to tell that the two of you are a couple when you walk together

✧ his lock screen is a mirror picture of the two of you :’)

jeonghan: hair accessories

✧ matching hair accessories oh myyy

✧ it could be in simple barrettes or clips with little cutesy designs

✧ or ribbons !!

✧ one day he sees you tie back half of your hair (like a semi-updo) and he just asks you, “can you do that to me too?”

✧ you two can be dainty together 🫶🏽

joshua: rings

✧ perhaps he’s a simple romantic

✧ rings can go with any outfit and he wants a reminder with you everywhere he goes

✧ loves seeing his ring on his finger in all of his daily activities

✧ also loves to hold your hand to look at the ring on your finger only to follow with a soft kiss to the back of your hand too

jun: earrings

✧ maybe he’s a little more subtle with it

✧ but he finds earrings as an easy way to be connected with you, knowing you have the same pair

✧ all that matters to him is that it’s something that the two of you know about - and maybe others if they’re paying attention

hoshi: tiger phone cases

✧ ofc you support his tiger agenda and one day he just surprises you with matching tiger print phone cases

✧ falls a little more in love with you when you don’t hesitate to swap your current case with it LOL

✧ loves taking mirror selfies where you can see your cases and as the two of you make the tiger claw hand gesture

✧ if you’re with literally anyone else together, he’ll just grab both of your phones to go “look!”

wonwoo: headphones

✧ thought of this because he games but headphones are also pretty necessary in general

✧ you each pick sticker packs and you place some stickers on your own pair

✧ then you swap headphones and fill up the rest of the negative space of each other’s :’)

woozi: pajamas

✧ he’s someone who’s also very lowkey methinks

✧ he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt his relationship too much, or go out on his rest days either

✧ he likes the moments you have just between the two of you and pajamas are a cute way to still have that

✧ whether you’re cuddling on the couch or just walking around the house, his heart is content seeing your matching home outfits

seokmin: shoes

✧ just felt like this would be soooo cute with him

✧ it gives you both freedom with your outfits and individual styles but anyone looking at you two together would know that you’re dating

✧ he love love loves taking those pictures of your matching shoes

✧ maybe he even takes a short video for his story and you can tell he’s happy in it because he can’t stop his feet from doing a little dancey dance

mingyu: hoodies

✧ adores seeing the two of you matching so obviously in the reflection of windows, mirrors, etc. when the two of you are out

✧ takes so so many pictures of you two

✧ you definitely have more than one matching hoodie

✧ will fall in love with you more if matching couple clothes was your idea first LOL

minghao: nails

✧ i had to, i HAD TO, just imagine the two of you with the prettiest hands ever

✧ maybe he lets you pick a color first and then he’ll pick a second to complement it aaa

✧ and even if you aren’t too much of a nail person, maybe you just get one nail painted with a little image or design to match the color scheme of his

✧ also imagine the intimacy of painting each other’s nails and he’s holding your hand close to his face and blowing on your nails to dry them

seungkwan: bracelets

✧ the two of you make your matching bracelets at one of those shops meant for dates

✧ i just know he would try so hard !! to make yours so pretty

✧ his heart ACHES when you find these 2 bear charms to represent the two of you (so you can have a little bear of each other)

✧ “this one’s me and this one’s you, don’t you think?”

vernon: beanies

✧ he’s always giving you his beanies when it’s cold out anyway

✧ then on this day he’s shopping and he can’t pick between 2 options (they’re both the same 2 colors but in different combinations)

✧ vernon just gets both and lets you pick the one you like more

✧ he knows you’ll look good in either one :)

chan: crewneck/hoodie-sweatpants-set

✧ this is various things but here me out, he’s a dancer and he probably has a good amount of athleisure

✧ sometimes you visit him during his solo dance practices and he likes to try to convince you to dance with him

✧ one day you stopped by without the intention to dance and he just casually pulls out the set for you that coincidentally matched with his

✧ he’s so giddy when you change. so so many recordings of you dancing together (regardless of how coordinated the two of you actually are) and mirror selfies to capture your outfits

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makethosenarratorsfight · 9 months

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; FINALS.

Eugenides Propaganda:

the entire plot hinges on a detail he lets the reader (and every other character) assume is true. I don't want to spoil it because it's a really fun reveal but he is lying from the first second he appears on the page and you can't trust him to tell the full truth about ANYTHING related to himself and his goals. he mostly does it to keep his advantage and not have other characters be suspicious of him but it's just so fun when you realise he's been lying the whole time

Lemony Snicket Propaganda:

(I would like to preface this by saying that Lemony Snicket is the author's pen name, not a real person, and he exists as a character in-universe as well as being the one in-universe who writes the books!) I'd say he's unreliable because he spent time collecting information about the Baudelaire kids and then... wrote books about it. He has no idea what any of their dialogue actually was, what they were thinking, or even the whole plot, he's just doing research into the incidents and then filling in the gaps to make it a story. What ACTUALLY happened to the Baudelaires? Nobody really knows for sure

While the Baudelaire siblings are in potentially life threatening danger, he will randomly start talking about his own life and just leave the siblings hanging. For example, once Count Olaf was threatening to kill Violet, and then Lemony randomly began talking about how he met the love of his life at a costume party. This man CANNOT stay on topic. Usually when a new character is introduced, Lemony tells us right at the start that they’re either going to die or that the Baudelaire siblings will never see them again. Foreshadowing is not subtle in these books. CONSTANTLY emphasizes how miserable he feels while writing these books. At one point he admits that he had to put his pencil down and go cry for a while because of how sad it made him. Once he filled an entire page with nothing but the word “ever” to emphasize how dangerous it is to put forks in electrical outlets. He also repeated a paragraph about deja vu later on in the book to give the reader deja vu.

#lemony snicket #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #asoue books #asoue netflix #eugenides #queens thief #queen's thief #the queens thief #the queen's thief #megan whalen turner #unreliable narrator battle #unreliable narrators #polls #finals #this is gonna be a coughing baby vs hydrogen bomb isn't it.

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thehmn · 1 year

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I haven’t seen anyone talk about this but everything about Perrito from Puss in Boots 2 implies that he comes from either a puppy mill or some very unethical backyard breeders.

He tells us that him and his “litter mates” lived with a “family” that would first throw him in a dumpster and when that didn’t work they tried to drown him in a river.

First, “litter mates”? Why not siblings? That suggests that inbreeding was probably a thing and they called each other “mates” to disguise that. (Edit: I’ve been informed that in English “litter mates” is used to distinguish a litter from the “siblings” a dog or cat will have later when they’re sold off which add a whole other level of sad because it means he was taught from the start to not get attached to his parents or siblings if he use that word despite never being sold off)

Second, he was the runt of the litter so the “family” just threw him away, most likely because they wouldn’t be able to sell him for a lot of cash and didn’t want to waste money on feeding him.

Third, he’s a merle chihuahua.

The merle gene in chihuahuas comes with so many health issues that most kennel clubs won’t allow you to register them no matter how purebred they are, and the few who does will only allow it under very specific conditions. The coat is considered so unethical that a lot of chihuahua fan forums won’t even allow you to join. If you breed two merle chihuahuas the puppies are fucked. And chihuahuas can carry the gene even if they don’t have the merle coat meaning even ethical breeders risk breeding two merle chihuahuas without meaning to. And Perrito clearly has a lot of birth defects like lopsided ears, underbite, wobbly run, and some kind of internal issues that required an operation at some point if the scar on his stomach is any indication.

A lot of Puss in Boots 2 fans are so dedicated to hating chihuahuas that, because they like Perrito, they refuse to acknowledge that he’s a chihuahua and instead prefer to think he’s a mutt or even an Australian sheepdog puppy (nevermind that Kitty asks if he’s part of a chihuahua gang or that Perrito says he USED to be a puppy) not understanding that him being a merle chihuahua is another subtle hint to his horrible past.

#puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #perrito #chihuahua

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sunshinescribes · 6 months

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The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable.

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “’Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

“S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #crocodile x reader #crocodile x you #sir crocodile smut #x reader

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imaginesmai · 7 months

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Right around the corner - Azriel

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.

Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!

Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.

From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.

Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.

Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.

So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.

He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.

“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.

“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”

“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”

“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.

“You’ll have to wait until dinner”

Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.

He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.

“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.

“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”

“You don’t… like berries”

Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.

Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.

“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”

Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.

Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.

When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.

They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.

It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.

“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”

“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.

The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.

Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.

“Maybe you want to come in?”

She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.

To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.

Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.

Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands.

Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.

“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”

“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”

Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.

She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.

It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.

“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”

“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”

Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.

The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush.

Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.

She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.

True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.

At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.

It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.

She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.

Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.

Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.

After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.

“What are you looking at?”

Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.

She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.

“Nothing, boy”

“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.

“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”

Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.

She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.

However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.

“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.

“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”

“He did, now?”

They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.

Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.

The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.

The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.

Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.

“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”

“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.

“I…”

For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.

He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.

Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.

Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”

“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.

“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”

He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.

The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.

Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.

“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”

“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”

“How?”

Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.

Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.

“I need to do something”

“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “

“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”

“You need to take a bath and rest”

“I will take a bath and rest”

Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.

He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.

Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”

“We will”

Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.

What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.

Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.

He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.

That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.

She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.

“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”

“Bah”

“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.

Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.

As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.

Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.

“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.

But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.

All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.

Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.

“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”

Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.

But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.

During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.

She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.

As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.

“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”

Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

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thedarkdisgrace · 1 month

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I have a head canon that Chuuya & Dazai will randomly start humming a tune.

Often at the same time, even though they’re not near each other. It’s a tune neither one can place but it’s oh so familiar. A melody only they can hear & only they know. Something attuned to their souls.

They’ve never heard it anywhere aside in their own heads. But it’s comforting & warm when it invades their minds. A subtle feeling lingering in the back of their mind that suspiciously feels something like…home. Yet when they individually ask other people about it, no one’s ever heard the tune.

Neither could find anything through research either. Nothing sounds quite *right*.

Yet one day, long after their reunion, when they’re eating dinner Dazai feels the tune seep into his mind for the first time in a while. But before he even thinks about it, Chuuya starts humming the tune. Dazai snaps his head up & Chuuya looks at him questioning.

“That tune, how do you know it?”

Chuuya just shrugs, taking another bite. “I don’t know, it just came to mind”

“Do you know where it’s from?” Dazai asks, eyes narrowing, mind speeding to put together the puzzle forming in front of him.

Chuuya furrows his brows, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. “No, actually. I don’t know where I’ve heard it before”

And as Dazai always does, he starts to connect dots to dots.

Idk, it’s just something that’s been in my brain for a long time lol

Again this one is another thread from my twitter.

#bsd #soukoku #skk #bsd fanfic #bsd spoilers #chuuya x dazai #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanart #bsd manga

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andvys · 1 month

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter seven ⭐︎ Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact. mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited feelings, sexual tension, reader teasing Steve sexually, not giving away anything else

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: After you and Steve cross a line, you are the one to take things to a whole new level — driving Steve insane with your never ending teasing.

Word count: 7.4k+

Author’s note: I know you keep yelling at me but anyways -- shoutout to @hellfire--cult for helping me with this, especially the uh last part hehe.

Also, @prettyboyeddiemunson talked about a little crossover thing, and I love her girl in gods & monsters so she's making a little appearance here for Eddie hehe, all credits go to my bestie of course, the character belongs to her! If you haven't read the story yet, go check it out, it's one of my faves!

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Staring up at the ceiling, Steve sinks deeper into his pillows, finding more comfort in his bed than usual, he takes a deep breath as he runs his hand over his face. He should feel content, knowing that he’s got the day off but instead he feels tense and frustrated in a way he had never felt before.

His mind could be anywhere right now, he could think about the new tapes he stacked up at work last night, he could think about the show he watched before he went to bed, he could think about the mixtape Eddie had made for him, he could think about the girl that so obviously tried to flirt with him at work the other day, his mind could take him to any place, his imagination could be limitless but no, his mind is somewhere it shouldn’t be, his mind is with you.

Nothing he does, nothing he tries to think about can drag his thoughts away from you. You occupy every space of his mind, reminding him of how much control you had taken over him ever since you both crossed a line that changed things between you both.

Steve may have been the one who started it at all, but you are the one who took the game to a whole new level.

The little accident in his kitchen that happened weeks ago, was only the start of it all.

Steve wasn’t exactly subtle when he kept checking you out before the fiasco with the broken lever, and he wasn’t subtle with his touches either. He was treading on thin ice, he knew that, he knew that his slight teasing could have easily backfired if you reacted differently but it didn’t, and your reactions were everything that he was hoping for. You grew flustered, you started blushing, you stuttered and you looked at him the way he was hoping you would.

But, what he didn’t expect was for you to tease him back, especially in a way that had him blushing, stuttering, and staring at you in shock.

You were so innocent and shy at first, doing everything as subtly as possible. It started with gentle touches on his arm or his hand, soft whispers during dinner whenever he sat beside you, or long eye contact. Then, you realized just how much power you had over him and things quickly developed into something more, something so much deeper.

Your teasing was no longer innocent and your shyness seemed to have slipped away more and more, little by little.

The look in your eyes was no longer a shy one whenever you looked at each other. There was a fire behind your eyes that he had never seen before. The smirk that tugged at your lips wasn’t the same one you usually looked at him with, it was different, mischievous, and very suggestive – a little too suggestive for someone like you because if someone else had looked at him the way you do, he’d think that they’re flirting but you don’t do that and certainly not with him.

The only explanation for your behavior is that you are teasing him, playing with him just the way he did with you but not because you want him. He started something that night when Hopper and Joyce announced their engagement. It was harmless at first, his teasing was light and playful, he loved to see those sweet reactions of yours but Steve didn’t know that it was a dangerous game that he had started, he didn’t know that he’d be playing with fire the moment he’d touch you.

Because you are far from harmless, and your teasing is not light and playful in the slightest. If it was, he wouldn’t be feeling like this right now; frustrated, agitated and filled with pent up emotions that he can’t even make out in his own head.

He closes his eyes again as a groan falls from his lips, he shakes his head at himself, cursing inwardly for thinking about no one other than you.

Has it always been that way?

Have you always been on his mind?

Or is it something new?

An unspoken deal was made between the both of you when you two started this. There are no rules, just a winner and a loser – whoever breaks first loses and so far, it seems like Steve won’t even get close to winning, even though he was the one to start it all so confidently.

You clearly have taken over, because the moment you looked at him with innocent big eyes and a pout on your lips while pressing your chest against his arm when you tried to squeeze past him, your boobs nearly spilling over your cute little top, your voice sounding raspy from all the weed you had smoked that night, he was done for.

It wasn’t the first time that a girl had done something like this to him, plenty of girls have given him those innocent eyes, have pressed their boobs against him, in much less clothing… but something about you drives him especially crazy. Maybe it’s the fact that you both hate or dislike each other or maybe it’s the fact that he is just extremely frustrated – sexually frustrated. Maybe that is the only reason why you get to him in that way… why he feels the want to continue this little game or why he feels the intense need to fuck you and get you out of his mind, once and for all.

Another groan falls from his lips when he remembers that Robin bailed on him after she called him in the middle of the night, telling him that she wouldn’t make it to lunch today, meaning that it will be just Eddie, you and him.

A part of him even looks forward to seeing you, the other part doesn’t because he already knows how he will feel afterwards, while you will probably go home feeling satisfied after teasing the hell out of him.

Every time before you leave, you look at him as though you had done nothing wrong, which sometimes leads him to believe that you’re not even aware of all the teasing you torture him with and that he was the only one playing this game, all this time.

Steve drags himself out of bed and into the bathroom, turning on the shower so the water can heat up while he brushes his teeth. He looks at his reflection in the mirror, rolling his eyes at the mess on his head, he brings his hand up to his hair, running his fingers through it.

As he thinks about what to wear, he gets lost in his thoughts, thinking about you, wondering what you will wear. Are you going to wear a dress? Another short skirt to drive him crazy with?

He rolls his eyes, cursing inwardly at himself for thinking about you again.

He needs to get this out of his system.

He needs to get you out of his system.

And there is only one way to do it and he knows it, but he’s not even sure where your feelings stand, if you’d be down for what he’s longing for or if you’d laugh in his face if he even tried to suggest something like it. – Your reaction would probably be the latter, and just the thought of it is enough to bring the grumpiness out in him.

He begrudgingly starts getting ready, all while his mind keeps him occupied with thoughts about you.

He doesn’t know what caused all of this, he doesn’t know how it happened, how his mind is incapable of thinking about anything or anyone but you these days.

He feels as though he had been cursed. You are haunting him, in his mind and even in his dreams, and seeing you all the time doesn't help at all… and yet, he wouldn’t want it any other way because this little thing between you both makes him feel a thrill that has been missing in his life.

By the time Steve pulls up into the parking lot at the diner, you and Eddie are already there.

You’re sitting on the hood of his car, hands folded in your lap, sunglasses low on your nose, a smile on your lips as you’re nodding along to whatever Eddie is telling you. You look good… too good for just a simple breakfast at the diner.

He parks the car and after a few deep breaths, he pulls out the keys and gets out, trying not to stare at you as he walks towards the two of you.

“Hey guys.”

Eddie turns around, a mocking smile on his face, he crosses his arms over his chest, “took you long enough, big boy.”

Steve chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he eyes you from the side, “yeah uh, I missed my alarm this morning and Robin woke me up in the middle of the night to bail on us, took me a while to fall back asleep after that.”

You groan at his words, sliding off the car, you smooth down your jean shorts and push your sunglasses up into your hair, “so she keeps ditching us.”

“She’s in love, Sweetheart,” Eddie winks at you, wiggling his brows, “she’s got better things to do.”

You roll your eyes at his words and look over Eddie’s shoulder, meeting his eyes for the first time today. You lick your lips as your eyes move down up and down his body.

“Hey, Lego head.”

Lego head. The silly nickname doesn’t quite suit the look in your eyes.

“Blondie,” he nods.

Eddie chuckles, playing with the keys in his hand as he nudges his head into the direction of the diner, “let’s go eat, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving, Eddie,” you snort as you are the first to start walking.

“Yeah man, you’re always eating and you’re still starving,” Steve chuckles, walking beside Eddie, “you’re like a raccoon or something.”

You look over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, “oh he’s definitely a little raccoon.”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise, he looks between you both, “did you just… agree on something?”

You scoff at his words, turning back around without another word while Steve looks down, shaking his head. The weight of Eddie’s arm around his shoulder makes him look back up, though not at you, but at Eddie, whose eyes are filled with amusement.

“You’re not trying to steal my girl are you?”

Steve doesn’t know what is about the words ‘my girl’ but he feels himself clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth. By the tone in Eddie’s voice, he should know that he is only teasing, but apparently his mind isn’t able to comprehend that right now.

He feels a fire in his chest that he can’t even explain, one that only grows even more intense a few moments later, when a guy who was just leaving the diner, steps aside for you after opening the door.

Steve can’t see your face or the looks you are giving to the man who is staring you up and down with nothing but hunger in his eyes, but by the way you walk past him without even turning your head or looking back, he knows that you’re giving him nothing. And yet, it doesn’t stop his anger when the guy keeps checking you out, shamelessly, following you with his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looks at your ass. You’re not even aware of it as it seems and it wouldn’t be the first time.

Steve saw you at Big Buy’s the other day, you were strolling around the aisles in your cute little dress, throwing food items into your basket, completely unaware of his eyes on you. He couldn’t look away from you… even when everything you did was riling him up, whether it was the way you bend down to reach for something on the lowest shelf, the way you touched your hair or the way your dress was moving by your sides as you walked. As he caught himself staring at you, at your effortless beauty, he knew that he couldn’t be the only one – and his suspicions were confirmed, when he looked into the other aisle only to see another guy, not past his 30s staring at you, something that you weren’t aware of in the slightest. He also caught himself rolling his eyes and clenching his fists… but that’s something that he easily ignored.

Unlike today, he can’t even help it when he passes the guy who can’t seem to tear his eyes away from you with a deathly glare on his features, feeling anger for how shameless and disrespectful his ogling is, it’s disgusting.

“Perv,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, glaring the same way Steve does.

The guy doesn’t even spare them a single glance, moving past them after taking another long… too long look at you before he walks out of the diner.

Steve and Eddie roll their eyes, following you to the table that you have already picked, completely unaware of what just happened.

You sit down in the booth, sliding over to the window. You put your sunglasses down on the table and instantly reach for the menu.

Eddie sits down beside you, while Steve takes the seat across from you. He tries not to look at you, sinking deeper into the leather seats as he reaches for the menu, as well.

“What are you guys doing afterwards?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing, just gonna go back home and watch movies or something,” Steve mumbles, peeking over his menu and at you, to find you looking at him already.

“Perfect, why don’t you two have a little bonding moment and have a movie day together?” Eddie grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you.

Steve sees the way you scrunch your nose up at his words, scoffing and shaking your head at him like it’s the most ridiculous thing that you have ever heard, like it’s something that you don’t even want to think about.

“We’re getting along just fine, no need for bonding time.”

Right. Steve had been so focused on all your teasing, he almost forgot about how much you two are supposed to dislike each other.

“Exactly,” Steve winks at Eddie, “Blondie and I are doing just fine.”

He looks back at you, his eyes meet yours, you raise your brows at him, smirking as you tilt your head.

“Are we?” You ask softly as you blink at him.

Steve leans closer, licking his lips, he opens his mouth to speak but Eddie cuts him off, clapping his hands.

“Yeah, you are getting along! Now shut your mouths before you start a fight.”

You both snort at the metalhead, leaning back in your seats, neither of you saying a word, you both just look back at your menu’s, focusing on that… for now.

The busy waitress stops by your table, telling you that she will be back to take your order in a minute, seemingly catching Eddie off guard after placing her hand on his shoulder before she scurries away again.

He no longer looks at the menu, he finds something more interesting to look at.

Steve’s eyes flash with amusement as he looks over at his friend, whose eyes are wide and cheeks are red, an awestruck expression all over his face. He can’t help but nudge your foot under the table, tilting his head towards Eddie when you look up with a frown.

You turn to your best friend. Your features soften, eyes flashing with surprise, you bump your shoulder into his, clearing your throat, “hey Ed’s, before you fuck this up again, don’t you want to tell Lego head about what happened?” You ask, snickering.

Eddie blinks, turning back to you, “h-huh?”

“You have a man to give you his opinion of what you did wrong.”

Steve furrows his brows, looking between your amused face and his confused one, when Eddie’s eyes flash with realization and he groans in annoyance.

“Sweetheart, he’s gonna be on my side.”

“What opinion?” Steve asks.

You turn back to your menu, scoffing at Eddie and rolling your eyes before you glance at him, “you’ll want to kill him.”

Eddie groans, shaking his head, his curls bouncing a little.

“You’ll understand, Harrington. You’re a man. She is… looking at it from a feminine side of things.”

Steve gives you a quizzical look, almost laughing at the exasperated look on your face.

“Alright shoot,” he says to his friend.

Eddie presses his lips together, taking a deep breath before he folds his hand on the table and looks at him with squinted eyes, “okay so, I saw this girl at the hideout yesterday, Jeff told me to go talk to her, you know… so I did. We started talking, she was funny and all that, and you know, I always like to be a little mysterious.”

You snort, making Eddie roll his eyes again, “shut it, Sweetheart.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Anyways,” Eddie sighs, glaring at you, “so, when she asked me if I was there with a girl, I just said ‘wouldn’t you like to know?’”

Steve draws back a little, raising his brows and pursing his lips, looking perplexed.

“Uh huh..” You murmur, keeping your eyes on Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve shakes his head, “just uh… did it… what happened then?”

Eddie sighs again, “well, she rolled her eyes and left, but you know, she may not have a sense of humor so… it’s whatever.”

“Munson, that girl had a sense of humor, you just have a lack of fucking tact,” Steve says, shaking his head at his friend, in pure disbelief.

Eddie’s jaw drops at his words, while a laugh falls from your lips as you turn to look at your best friend with nothing but satisfaction on your face.

“Told you.”

“Seriously!?” Eddie gasps, frowning. “Harrington, you were always mean to girls in the past, and you still slept with them!”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head.

“That was in high school, Munson! You are a grown up now, why the hell would you do that? Just tell her you were there alone or with friends!”

Eddie’s jaw drops again, he slumps back in his seat, throwing his hands up.

“I just thought that a mysterious persona would work better than… you know… bubbly, happy, go lucky guy, desperate to get his dick wet persona…” He whines, “no one wants to fuck me.”

You giggle, hiding your face behind the menu.

Steve’s lips curl into a smile, he points a finger at you, “I’m gonna have to agree with Blondie, again, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t worry, Eds. I’ll help you,” you say, smiling, “I’ll teach you how to flirt.”

“How are you gonna do that, Blondie? Do you even know how to flirt?” Steve snorts.

You may be a tease, a good one at that, but a flirt? No. You’re too rough, too mean, too harsh to be a flirtatious person, you can barely hold a conversation with someone without going off at them about something, you wouldn’t even know where to begin with, unlike him.

He is a flirty person, he has charm, he knows how to wrap a girl around his finger with just a few simple words.

He doesn’t know what to expect, but he surely didn’t expect for you to smile at him, to shrug and give him nothing more than a glance that tells him how wrong he is.

After the waitress comes back to take your order, leaving Eddie a blushing mess, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back with your hair now free from the scrunchie that kept it together and another coat of gloss on your lips, something that instantly catches Steve’s eyes.

You place your elbows on the table, putting your chin into your palm, blinking at him innocently.

The look in your eyes tells him that you’re up to no good, but he can’t look away. He leans closer to the table, licking his lips as he raises his brows at you. Both of you are unaware of Eddie, who is basically drooling over the pretty waitress, too distracted to notice the looks you are giving to each other.

“The waitress, is she from Hawkins? Never seen her in my fucking life,” Eddie murmurs in awe.

Steve turns his head to look at the woman, a gasp nearly tears from his lips when he feels your foot on his calf and you pull his attention back on you, he stares at you with wide eyes.

Smirking in satisfaction, you pull your foot back and look down at your nails.

“I-I don’t know, Munson, not familiar.” He stutters without looking away.

Steve knew that this would happen, that you would tease him in one way or another, but he didn’t know yet, just where you would take this today.

When your milkshakes arrive at the table, both you and Steve watch Eddie with amusement as he stares up at the blonde waitress, eyes moving back and forth between her face and her chest, not knowing what to look at first.

His eyes get stuck on the dainty cross necklace around her neck, seemingly growing more intrigued by her, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones.

Steve narrows his eyes at you, almost laughing when you look at him, at the same time.

Eddie’s cheeks are even more flushed than before now, his eyes wide, lips parted. The girl presses her lips together, trying not to giggle at the look on his face.

“Your food will come right up,” she says, looking between you all before her eyes meet Eddie’s again as she takes the last milkshake off the tray, putting it on the table and sliding it towards him.

He clears his throat, wrapping his fingers around the glass before she can even let go.

Both you and Steve watch the way she smiles down at Eddie and at the fingers brushing against hers.

“Thanks, Sweetheart,” he smirks at her, surprising both you and Steve with the confidence in his voice.

The girl smiles in surprise, before she turns around, walking away from the table but not without giving Eddie another glance, his lips curl into a bigger smirk and he waves his fingers at her.

Your mouth drops and so does Steve’s, both of you, looking at each other again, with stunned and puzzled expressions on your faces.

“Dude,” Steve mumbles, slowly turning to face his friend, “tell me… how did you fuck this up again… at the hideout, I mean?”

Eddie only looks back when the girl disappears into the kitchen, “the girl at the hideout just wasn’t the right one.”

“Oh, and this one is?” Steve chuckles, pointing his thumb to where the waitress walked off to.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, dreamily. “She’s so…”

“Hot?” You ask as you reach for your milkshake, grabbing the red and white straw between your thumb and your pointer finger.

“Gorgeous,” he blushes.

Your lips tug into a smile, you bring your hand up to his face, pinching his cheek, “aw, look at you.”

He swats your hand away, snorting.

“I thought you didn’t know how to flirt, you’re doing such a good job, keep it up, Eds.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Eddie winks at you before he looks away, eyes searching for the waitress again.

“He doesn’t need your help after all,” Steve laughs, tilting his head, “not that you’d be much of a help anyways.”

You squint your eyes at him, shrugging at his words, and you surprise him with your silence.

He watches the way you lean forward, placing your elbow on the table as you finally wrap your lips around the straw. Your eyelashes flutter and you tap your red fingernails against the glass, a moan falling from your lips.

“Mmmh, that’s so good.”

Steve nearly jumps from his seat, the sound making his stomach flutter, he clenches his fists, staring at you with wide eyes.

There’s no smirk on your lips, no mischief behind your eyes, nothing but innocence is etched into your features – you’re not even teasing him, it was nothing but a genuine reaction to the sweet drink. And it’s something that frustrates him even more.

You reach for the maraschino cherry next, popping it into your mouth before you lick the whipped cream off your finger.

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, he shifts in his seat, trying to look away from your lips… that are still wrapped around your finger but he can’t, his eyes are stuck, his body is stuck, he can’t move, all that he can do is watch you.

And then, you look towards him, eyes flashing with surprise when you find him staring. He hopes to see you blushing but instead, a smirk tugs at your lips as you release your finger, scooping up some more whipped cream before you bring it up to your lips.

And this is where the real teasing begins.

Steve nearly gasps when you hold eye contact this time as you lick the cream off your fingers, letting out another, softer moan.

Holy fuck.

Steve’s eyes darken, he swallows harshly, clenching his jaw in anger.

Eddie is too busy with his own milkshake, ogling the waitress as she talks to customers at the bar, completely unaware of how you both eyefuck each other, the way Steve can’t take his eyes off of you.

By the look in your eyes, Steve knows how much fun you’re having with this, you know how much it frustrates him, you know what you’re doing to him.

And as though, all of this wasn’t bad enough already. You then accidentally drop some of the whipped cream on your chest.

“Oops,” you purr, giving him an innocent look through your lashes.

The warmth in his chest only grows more intense, spreading across his whole body, filling him up with need and a deep hunger that keeps growing and growing, one that can only be satiated in one way – he needs you, just once, he needs to have you, he needs to taste you, he needs to fuck you, he needs you out of his system for good.

He had enough of this, of all this teasing.

He would fuck you right there on this table if he could.

But, despite your teasing, despite the look in your eyes, despite your little act, he is still not sure about where you stand. He knows how you react to his touches, to his teasing, but a part of him fears rejection if he does make a move.

You are barely even friends, and the thought of making a fool of himself, in front of you, makes him want to crawl into a hole.

You are both playing this game, but while he knows what he wants, he doesn’t know what you want.

Maybe you just enjoy this little back and forth, waiting for him to break first before you move along and pretend like nothing ever happened. Maybe you don’t even expect anything to come out of this. Maybe you don’t even want him the way he wants you. Maybe you just like to tease him because you know that it's riling him up.

So what is left for him to do?

Stop this game and move on? Or… keep going and wait for something more to happen?

He’s had enough of your teasing, but he’s far from losing, there is still some power left in him… some.

He won’t sit here and let you get away with this.

So despite the uncomfortable strain in his pants, despite the burning in his skin, he plasters a smirk on his blushing face and reaches forward, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he mimics you, he grabs his glass and he reaches for the cherry on his milkshake, purposely dropping some whipped cream on the table as he puts the cherry in his mouth. He chews slowly, licking his finger tips while he watches you slowly, the way your smile slowly falls, the way your eyes widen a little.

He bites back the smirk as he scoops up the whipped cream off the table, with both his middle finger and ring finger, bringing them up to his lips, he looks back into your wide eyes as he places them into his mouth, watching the way you break eye contact to look at his lips.

Your throat bobs as you swallow, tightening your grip on your glass as you watch the way he licks his fingers slowly.

He can see the way you shift in your seat, the way your breathing gets heavier and your eyes darken, the way you lick your lips and how flustered you get as you look back into his eyes.

You are pressing your thighs together, he just knows you are.

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth, smirking at you in satisfaction while you still sit there, frozen in place. He breaks eye contact, looking down at his vanilla milkshake as though nothing happened.

“You gotta give this one a ride home, Harrington,” Eddie mumbles, pointing at you without tearing his eyes away from the bar, “I think I’m gonna stay here a little longer.”

You clear your throat.

Steve expects you to be more… nervous, to hear your voice wavering, but instead, it sounds confident, filled with yet more teasing as you open your mouth to speak.

“Oh, I would love a ride home with Stevie,” you smile at him innocently as your foot touches his calf again, but this time, it doesn’t just stay there, you move it up, just a little, but enough to nearly make him choke on his drink.

“So you can keep getting on his nerves?” Eddie chuckles.

You lick your lips, smirking as you nod your head slowly, “exactly.”

Yeah, you don’t really do this anymore, getting on each other’s nerves, you both have found something so much better and much more interesting to do to one another.

“You know I always win, Blondie,” Steve says so very confidently, like he isn’t slowly losing his mind because his want for you is beginning to consume him entirely.

You tilt your head at him as you bite your lip, the sleeve of your blouse slowly sliding down your shoulder, making him gulp.

“Do you?” You ask, batting your lashes at him, provoking him with the look on your face.

He bites the insides of his cheeks, nodding at your words, “mhmm.”

A breathy chuckle falls from your lips, you shrug and lean back, “we’ll see.”

Eddie doesn’t know that you’re talking about something entirely else now, but he couldn’t care less, when he’s got his eyes set on someone that stole his breath away.

He uses every second he gets with the pretty waitress to flirt, whether it’s through glances when she passes by or through his charming words when she delivers the food to the table.

He happily eats his burger and his fries, eyes following the blonde wherever she goes, completely blind to what’s happening right next to and in front of him.

You and Steve keep staring at one another, eyes filled with intense need, hands itching to reach out to the other.

Steve feels the longing inside his chest, intensifying as the minutes go by, driving him insane. It gets to a point where he can’t wait to get the hell out of this diner so he can go home and take care of himself. He is not sure if he had ever felt this desperate before – he surely never had to rush home to jerk off, but that’s what he feels like now, like he’s going to explode if he sits here any longer.

The moment you decide on leaving, Steve nearly throws himself out of his seat, feeling no patience left inside of him.

“I got this covered,” Eddie announces, pulling out his wallet as he gets out of the booth so you can get out, “you two can go.”

You grab your sunglasses and get up, putting your hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “I see what you’re trying to do, you wanna get rid of us so you can flirt with the hot blonde.”

He wiggles his brows, smirking at you proudly, “gotta score a date with my dream girl.”

Steve chuckles, grabbing the car keys from his pocket, he smirks at Eddie, “just don’t mess it up again.”

Eddie shakes his head, “nah never.”

“Alright casanova, call me and tell me how it went.”

“Call you?” He frowns, “I’ll be there to raid your kitchen tonight, sweets.”

You step away from him, brushing past Steve, “alright raccoon, I’ll see you later then.”

“See ya,” he chuckles.

With a sigh, Steve looks at Eddie, playing with his keys and giving him a nod.

“Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Eddie winks, “and don’t kill each other!” He jokes, ignoring the weird looks he’s given from an older couple two booths away.

“Don’t worry, we’re not at that point anymore.”

You’re at a whole different point now, one that doesn’t make him angry, not exactly, just one that drives him up the wall.

Steve stares at your hips, at the way your shorts hug your body so nicely, the way your ass looks so good in them. He forces his eyes away, feeling a little startled when you turn around to face him before you open the door, a friendly smile appears on your face and he realizes that you aren’t looking at him, but at Eddie’s ‘dream girl’, waving goodbye at the girl before you step out.

He feels the sudden need to talk, hoping that you won’t tease him any further in the car, because if you do, he isn’t sure if he will manage to control himself the way he did, the whole time at the diner.

He rubs the back of his neck, walking down the steps, he clears his throat.

“Do you think he will manage to score a date?”

You slow down as you put your sunglasses on, “yeah, I’m pretty sure he will.”

Steve chuckles, nodding.

“She seems nice, and she’s pretty,” you say.

So are you. Steve thinks to himself.

“She’s got the kind of blonde hair you wanted when you ruined your hair with the blonde dye, huh?”

Steve can’t see your eyes behind your sunglasses, but he can see the amused look on your features as your lips curl into a smile.

He ignores the way it feels when you step closer to him, when your hand brushes against his knuckles, sending chills throughout his whole body.

“Actually, I wanted it even lighter, and how would I know that the pictures on the box dye were lies, it said it lightens up any hair color to that specific color!”

Steve laughs at you, “what color were you hoping for?”

You shrug, stepping away from him again when you walk around his car to the passenger side.

“I wanted like a Dolly Parton or uh… Heather Locklear kind of blonde.”

He unlocks the car and opens his door, raising his brows at you, “wow, you should have gone to a hair salon, Blondie.”

You lift your sunglasses, rolling your eyes at him, “it was a spontaneous decision, I thought I could handle that myself, I’m definitely never touching hair dye again.”

“Just call me, next time,” he winks at you as he gets into the car, “I’m a pro at doing hair.”

You laugh at him as you get in as well, “didn’t know you were a hairdresser, Harrington.”

“They don’t call me ‘the hair’ for nothing.”

“Oh wow. I wouldn’t trust you with my hair, who knows what color you’d dye my hair to.”

“Maybe I’d get it to the Dolly Parton blonde that you wanted.”

“Yeah, right!” You scoff at him, “cause you’re such an expert!”

A smile tugs at his lips, it almost feels normal, sitting here in his car with you, talking like this, it almost distracts him enough from the strong tension between you both, from the pull that is dragging him towards you, more and more.

Despite the frustration that he feels from all your teasing, he cannot help but want to keep playing the little game.

The sun is shining brightly, pulling down the sun visor won’t be enough – how convenient it is that he keeps his sunglasses in the glove compartment. He could ask you to get them but instead, he moves closer, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs before he places his hand on your knee as he reaches forward so he can get his ray-ban’s.

Satisfaction rushes through him when he hears you sucking in a sharp breath.

But, his longing intensifies when he gets a whiff of your perfume and feels how soft your skin actually is.

He clearly never thinks things through, his little plans always backfire.

The want to wrap his hand around your thigh and keep it there is so strong… so goddamn strong, but he pulls away begrudgingly, holding back the smirk when he feels your eyes on him. He puts the sunglasses on, and finally starts the car.

Your silence surprises him, but he knows that it’s something that won’t stay for long.

Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran starts playing and Steve almost wants to laugh at the irony, this is exactly what he feels like right now, hungry like a fucking wolf, hungry for you.

If you had been any other girl, he would’ve made a move on you, a long long time ago. He would have flirted more obviously, he would’ve taken your hand in his, he would’ve brushed your hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you.

But you’re not just any girl, you’re… you.

You love this little game, and no matter how flustered you get, no matter the looks you are giving him, he still struggles to read you, he still struggles to figure out whether you want what he wants or not.

He is waiting for a sign, but it’s almost like he’s blind to anything you give to him.

He holds the steering wheel tightly, keeping his other hand on the gearstick, dangerously close to your thigh. He keeps sneaking glances at you, at your soft skin, at the way you press your legs together, at the way your fingers play with the loose string on your shorts.

Steve’s face grows hot, his heart beating faster in his chest.

He almost feels relieved when your house comes into view, and he pulls up into your driveway.

“So… what are you doing today?” You ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “besides having a movie day by yourself.”

You turn your body towards him, not making any moves to get out of the car yet.

“Uh… I don’t know,” he lies, his cheeks glowing red.

He already knows what he’s gonna do the moment he walks through his front door.

You take your sunglasses off, biting your lip as your eyes move up and down his body, making him shift uncomfortably, yet again.

“Well, I’m going to lay out in the sun, in my new red bikini.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and he almost starts drooling at the images that start forming in his mind.

Images of you… half naked.

“We should have a pool party at some point,” you smile, blinking at him as you start inching closer to him, looking down at his lips.

“Uh huh…”

“But anyways, I should get going,” you sigh, catching him by surprise when you place your hand on his thigh, so dangerously close to where he needs you the most, “thanks for the ride, Stevie.”

And as though that wasn’t bad enough.

You almost cause his heart to stop beating, when your face is only inches away from him now, and you press your lips against his cheek, kissing him, completely shocking him, leaving him a stuttering mess.

He lost all ability to speak, all he can do is stare at you, as his skin tingles and his heart races.

You smirk at him, eying his red cheeks.

“Who would’ve thought that Steve Harrington would ever blush for me,” you say smugly, before you pull away and get out of the car, giggles falling from your lips. Without another word, you close the door and walk away, looking over your shoulder one more time, still giggling.

Fuck.

His frustration turns into anger when the realization starts creeping in slowly.

The smug look on your face, the smirk and your stupid giggles prove his point, that you did all of this not because you wanted him, but because you wanted to win this fucking game.

That’s all it is, that’s all it ever was.

A game.

He doesn’t know what the feeling in his chest is, whether it’s the feeling of annoyance or rejection, but it only irritates him even further, especially when all he can think about is still you.

You in your stupid red bikini, lying under the sun, looking pretty and hot… looking like someone he can never have, not even for a single night.

He is angry, angry at himself for still wanting you, for needing you, for wishing that he could feel your bare body underneath him, for wishing to hear your moans, your voice calling out his name, your hands clinging to his body, fingers tugging at his hair.

Despite the rejection, he feels his stupid jeans getting tighter, his dick straining against the fabric, making him feel uncomfortable and so needy to a point that the moment he gets home, he rushes upstairs and into the bathroom.

He slams the door shut and presses his back against it, hastily unbuckling his belt, the clinking and his heavy breathing being the only sounds to fill the room… for now. He pushes down his boxers and his pants, just enough so he can pull his dick out – his tip is an angry red, already leaking with pre cum, he spits into his hand before he wraps his hand around his aching cock.

That is all that it takes for a needy whimper to fall from his lips.

He closes his eyes, throwing his head back against the door as he starts jerking off slowly.

Images of you curse and bless his mind at the same time.

He wonders what it would be like to feel your hand around his dick or what it would be like to feel your lips on his neck, your whispers in his ear as you take care of him.

He furrows his brows, lips parting as his moans get louder and he begins to move his hand faster and faster, squeezing his eyes shut.

He pictures you on your knees for him, your hands replaced by your lips as he shuts you up with his cock in your mouth, silencing you once and for all, while tears stream down your cheeks.

“Oh fuck…” Steve whimpers, getting lost in pleasure.

He wanted nothing more than to bend you over the table when you started teasing him with the stupid whipped cream, but all he can think about now is you on your knees worshiping him.

His muscles tighten as he increases the tempo, using his thumb to rub the slit as he imagines it being the tip of your tongue as you look at him with big and teary eyes.

And he doesn’t know for how long he was imagining you like this, but it doesn’t matter because he is soon spilling in his hand, a loud groan escaping his lips as well as a shaky breath, the back of his head hitting the door as he tries to ease his breathing.

Maybe three minutes passed, or twenty, but it didn’t matter. His cum is already on his hand and in your honor.

But this didn’t satiate his hunger, nor his lust for you in the slightest.

Nothing that he could possibly do will.

He can imagine you and take care of himself all he wants, but it won’t change the way he wants you, the way he craves you.

He knows that there is only one way to get rid of this.

Tomorrow he will put his frustration away. That’s all it is, frustration. He just needs to let it out. He needs to fucking breathe again.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @munsonlore @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

722 notes · View notes

thecreelhouse · 2 months

Text

⌞ it felt like love & drugs ⌝

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 7.2k

Summary: After Steve helps you relax when your vibrator died, you want to return the favor, but it escalates, fast. // This is part 2 of it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend ! part 3 - crystal clear 🥰

CW/Tags: language, roommates/FWB, Steve and reader getting stoned together, panic attacks, taunting/teasing banter, smut (duh), switch!steve/switch!reader, oral sex (m & f receiving), PiV rough/unprotected sex, light voyeurism/exhibitionism, ruined orgasm/denial, overstim, fluff

A/N: this was supposed to be sub!steve, I swear, but whoops. my hand slipped. hope y’all enjoy ♡ title is from love & drugs - the maine

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎

When Steve offered to help you … “relax”, after your vibrator died at the end of a horrid day, you thought you were dreaming. That was two weeks ago, and you’ve been a wreck ever since.

Yes, you were counting the days.

It was all you could think about, and you were silently hoping another opportunity would appear to return the favor to him, but no time felt right enough to bring it back up.

Despite Steve saying it wouldn’t make things weird, it did make things weird, for you. It was relatively easy to shrug it off on the outside, but you were losing it internally. On the other hand, he seemed fine, like nothing ever happened. Like he never went down on his best friend in the middle of the kitchen.

The sweet pet names he used casually weren’t helping much, either.

“Hey, babe, how was your day?”

“What movie do you wanna watch next, sweetheart?”

“I grabbed the big pack of batteries, just to be safe. They’re all yours, honey.”

That last one had to be intentional.

It was beginning to drive you insane, and the tension was building enough to slowly bubble over. You’d only be able to keep this to yourself for so much longer before blurting to Steve some filthy comment about going down on him.

Self doubt settled in; maybe he didn’t want what you offered last time. Maybe Steve was just being polite. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. He was just being a good friend, helping you in the heat of the moment.

Let it go. Just forget it. Don’t bother him with the idea.

So, you do. At least, as best as you can. Steve’s still on your mind when you play with yourself, quietly in your room. It’s obviously not as good as what he did with you, but you can’t just ask for him to eat you out again, just because. Choking on him is the first thought while you push your fingers into your own mouth.

Even when you’re not getting yourself off, you’ve had some moments of weakness where the thought crosses your mind while you have a lollipop in your mouth, or a popsicle. Licking ice cream off the spoon. None of it compares to what the real thing would be, but the concept of pleasuring your friend, your roommate, with your mouth, is becoming an unhealthy obsession.

On a rare night the two of you have off the next day, it’s spent getting stoned out of your mind with Steve.

It’s happened before, enough to be familiar with one another as you zone out, laugh at stupid shit, and raid the kitchen together. Tonight, though, you notice Steve’s not his usual relaxed, goofy self when high. He’s jittery. He’s quiet. He’s anxious, and you’re watching his weed-fueled spiraling unfold in real time.

You’ve only seen this happen once before, but it happened in a group of your friends; Robin was able to distract him, roping Steve into a nonsensical discussion of which female character from all of the movies released that year was the hottest. That worked, of course.

Except now, you’re alone with him, and scrambling to find the right words to keep him calm.

While you lay on the couch, he leans back onto it from the floor. You tried to get him to sit on the couch, but he insisted the floor was comfier.

Then, the spiraling starts, but it’s subtle. He kicks it off with the strange question of, “If both of us are single by our thirties, you wanna get married?” He seems okay, at first. Odd thing to ask, but he’s asked much weirder questions while high.

You choke on the hit you’re taking, coughing roughly as the smoke hangs in your lungs far too long. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah… like, you’re not afraid you’ll die alone?” He reaches for the pipe and lighter in your hands, but you pull it back.

Brows knitting together in confusion and a bit of concern, you ask, “Steve, where the hell is this coming from?”

“What if I’m dying?” He sputters, shoulders slumping before he continues. “What if we’re both dying? And what if we both die alone? That’s so… sad.”

You purse your lips before responding, “I mean… don’t we all come into this world alone? And then we leave alone? Everyone does, right?”

Steve groans, hands reaching up to snake his fingers through his hair, except he tugs on his locks halfway through as his eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t say that.”

“M’sorry, you wanna talk about something else?” He shakes his head as his hands fall back to his sides, head falling back against the couch cushion.

“Wanna not be high anymore,” He murmurs, looking over at you with a desperate, needy stare. “Make it stop.”

“Stevie, you’re okay, I promise. We both are.” This would almost be comical if he wasn’t slipping closer and closer to tears. You slide off the couch onto the floor next to him, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. “Maybe you should drink some water. When’s the last time you had any?”

Steve sticks his tongue out to pinch it, and feel if it’s dry or not. It takes everything in you not to start giggling. He lets go for a moment to answer, trying to joke, “Eight years, at least.” He turns to you with a frown, eyes red and hooded. “Do we have some?”

That, unfortunately, lets a laugh slip from your lips. “Steve, we live here, and last I checked, we paid the water bill. We have running water.”

“Stop laughing,” He pouts, pulling his knees to his chest before resting his head on them, face still turned towards you.

“M’sorry, honey,” The pet name slips easily, more than your laughter moments ago, catching Steve off guard as he blushes. “I’ll get you some, okay? Hang tight.” You set the pipe on the coffee table, out of his reach, but he doesn’t seem interested in the slightest anyway.

As you push yourself to stand, Steve reaches out and grabs your ankle, still pouting. It’d be cuter if he wasn’t panicking, but he’s got something weighing heavy on his mind, and you can tell through how sad his eyes look. “Are you leaving?”

“Gimme like… one minute, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

Steve sits up, readying himself to stand, but he moves an inch before falling back against the couch. He looks up in your direction, “I wanna come with you.”

“Stevie, just stay put, I don’t need you breaking your neck or something.”

“Breaking my ‎what?” Panic floods his face and you realize you said the wrong thing. You crouch back down to him, gently taking his face in your hands, trying your best to ignore how warm he feels.

“One minute. You’re fine. You’re safe. Give me one minute.” You run into the kitchen before he can grab for you again, sobering up a bit with a mission in mind.

When you fill two glasses of water, one for each of you, but you’re sure he’ll need both, you stop at the freezer before calling out. “Hey, I’m grabbing a popsicle, want one?”

Steve’s head pokes up from the other side of the couch, only past his eyes, though. You giggle at the sight. “Uh-huh,” is all he can manage to respond with.

You return with each hand holding a popsicle and glass of water, sitting back in the spot you previously had. Steve wastes no time downing not only his glass, but yours, too, as expected.

“That was yours, wasn’t it?” Steve bashfully asks, only feeling guilty for a moment before unwrapping his popsicle. “We should get, like…. Twenty more of these.”

You’re glad to see he’s already distracted, thoughts wandering away from anxiety about death, and into something mundane. Hopefully it continues.

“Twenty more popsicles?”

“No, no, boxes of popsicles. So like…. A lot.”

Laughing, you ask, “Where do we have the freezer space for twenty boxes?!”

Steve glances over to the fridge, then to you, eyes narrowing, “I’ll make it work.” You’re sucking on the tip of your popsicle when Steve looks back at you, still glancing at the freezer while your lips make a subtle smooch noise as you pull off to laugh.

Steve’s frozen in place, gaze glued to your mouth as your tongue slips out to lick along the side of the popsicle, then puckering around the tip again, before taking more of it into your mouth.

You’re not even trying to rile him up, but Steve’s definitely distracted from his panic attack now, watching you satisfy your oral fixation with the red ice. As you turn back to him, melted cherry juice drips from your lips, onto your hand holding the popsicle, and some on your chest. Your eyes land on the bright red droplets first, missing his reaction to all of this.

“Shit, I hate getting sticky.” Truly, you’re innocent right now. Not a dirty thought in your mind that’s pushing you to act this way, or to say what you just said. “I should get a napk— ” Your words dissolve on your lips as Steve’s motions play out; he grabs your wrist, his tongue lapping along your fingers, slowly trailing to the source in your grip.

Even for Steve, this is bold, high or not.

“O- or that works too, I guess,” You breathe, eyes locked with his as he pulls back, grip still on your wrist. Trying to break the tension, you joke, “You’re somethin’ else when you’re high, y’know that?”

“You’re the one always trying to keep your mouth busy.” Your eyes widen, dropping the popsicle remnants onto the wrapper on the table. He smirks, “What, you think I didn’t notice?”

Pausing before you retort, you notice the pipe was moved from where you set it on the coffee table. “Where’s the— Jesus, Steve, please tell me you didn’t smoke again.”

Steve giggles with a shrug. “I dunno nothin’.” As he puts his hands up, you see it in his palm.

“Oh my g— Steve, you were just panicking! You’re done, okay?” Grabbing the pipe from his hands, you glare at him. “I’m finishing this bowl off and then we’re both done. Got it?”

While you inhale, he moves over to you, grabbing you by the chin as his lips hover over yours. The close proximity makes you nervous, dizzy, almost exhaling too early as he gravelly demands, “Shotgun.” You shake your head as best as possible with his grip still on your face, lungs burning while you still hold your breath.

So he waits, like the conniving asshole he is, watching your eyes water with a wicked smirk. “C’mon, give it t’me.” His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers inching closer to where you want him most. It doesn’t take much, just a feathered touch of one finger, slowly dragging up your clothed core, and you’re a goner.

You exhale with a whine, trying your hardest not to cough in Steve’s face as his lips part to take the smoke in. When he releases you, you’re turning your face away to cough wildly, eyes watering even more. Catching your breath, you glare at him with glossy, red eyes, while wiping away the excess spit on your lips with the back of your hand.

“What the fuck is your problem, Harrington?” You rasp, chest still burning, from the smoke or annoyance, you’re not sure.

Exhaling secondhand smoke, he smirks again, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Steve is infuriating like this, getting under your skin, slamming all the right buttons, and beneath it all, you love it.

Yet, you warn him, “Steve, you’re pushing it.” He’s not. He knows that, and you know that, but you’re both too high for this right now. Whatever… this is. “And you’re gonna be really high any minute now, a- and…”

He’s got his hand back on your thigh, leaning in towards you, close enough to kiss you. “We shouldn’t… we’re both… we…” Your warnings fade out as your arms wrap around his neck, contrasting with your words. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea.”

Steve grabs you quickly, helping you straddle his lap. It takes a couple seconds for your mind to catch up with the rest of your body. His hands grip your waist as he flexes his hips up into you, ever so slightly. You gasp as you feel him, already hard beneath you.

He rolls himself up into your core, brushing against your clit ever so softly. “No? Why not?” You bite back a moan, shoving your hands onto his thighs to try holding him down.

“I- I mean, it is, but we shouldn’t do this now, right?” You’re trying to be the voice of reason, but you’re losing, fast. How are you supposed to resist this when you’ve been thinking about even just touching Steve for weeks. “You- were you this hard the whole time?”

He loses his filter easily when he’s stoned, so he blurts, “Uh-huh, pretty much every time I looked at you the last two weeks.” Pushing his hips up, your efforts of holding him down were useless while he grinds against you again. This time, his head falls back onto the couch, eyelids weighed down with desire as he watches you give in, grinding down onto him.

“Oh m- my god, so that’s why you kept hiding in your room, huh?” You smirk at the thought of flustering him so much, he has to resort to jerking off at the most inconvenient times. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Steve’s tugging at your shirt, sinking deeper into his high, “Off. Now.”

“No, I asked you a question, honey.” You purr, kissing along his jawline. His breath hitches at the touch. “What do you think about when you’re worked up over me?”

Steve whines, hands exploring under your shirt, and you’re too far gone to order him to keep his hands to himself. “You.” Is all he can bring himself to say as he feels you nip along his neck, soothing the love bites with wet, open mouthed kisses. “Baby, please…”

“That answers nothing, Stevie. Lemme rephrase my question,” You pull back, hands on his face, stomach flipping over the way he stares back at you, desperate and needy with shallow breaths already. “What do you imagine us doing when you fuck your fist? What do you want me to do?”

He tries to throw his head back while squirming underneath you, but you keep him in place, and he whines, louder this time. “Dunno where to start,” He breathes, pouting at you in a cute yet pathetic way.

“I might know… What’s off limits?” You ask just as he asked you two weeks ago. He swallows sharply, shaking his head.

“N- nothing.”

“You’ll tell me if something changes though, right? Or if you don’t like something?”

Steve’s nodding enthusiastically, “Yeah, uh-huh. Nothing’s off limits with you.”

You do your best to ignore the way heat blooms throughout your body from that.

“Can you get up? Y’need help?” You slide off of him, watching as he tries his hardest to hide another pout at the loss of your body on his. You nod towards the couch behind him, “Want you up here, s’that okay?”

Without a verbal answer, Steve scrambles clumsily onto the couch, eyes growing wide as you stay on the floor and push his legs apart. You’re not sure where this confidence is coming from to take the lead, but you kind of like watching Steve become submissive.

“M’dizzy,” He murmurs, hands at his sides, gripping the couch’s fluff while looking pained.

“You okay? We can stop, honey, it’s okay. What do you need?”

Like you anticipated, he whimpers, “Too high,” with a frown. You sigh, head falling forward and resting on his thigh, not really thinking much about the placement; he tenses up when he realizes how close you are to where he needs you the most.

“Stevie, I told you this was gonna happen,” You say this softly, not wanting to freak him out more.

“I know, I- I got nervous,” He admits, panting from panic building. “You’re killin’ me the last two weeks, wanna touch you and hear those cute noises you make again…” Running his hands through his hair, he twists his eyes shut as he continues to ramble, “and I just- I thought maybe getting really high would help not think ‘bout it. I fucked up, baby.”

Despite this being the consequence of his own actions, you feel for Steve, knowing firsthand how awful it can be if you get too high, how fast your thoughts can snowball, or feel like they’re completely melting out of your ears. Your hands splay out as you rub your palms softly, slowly, up and down his thighs.

“I can give you a distraction, you want that?” Steve frantically nods. “You trust me?” Again, he wordlessly replies with a nod. “Tell me if you wanna stop, or need something else, ‘kay?”

Steve watches you as he holds his breath; you reach for the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down slowly. You’re shocked when you’re immediately met with his throbbing length instead of a pair of boxers, freezing before you can pull his pants down fully.

“What’s wrong?” You don’t realize you’re staring until Steve asks this, worried. “Is it— is this okay?”

You feel your mouth water over the sight of him, naked from the waist below and up close. Tongue darting out to lick your lips, you force yourself to move and pull his pants off completely.

“More than okay,” You breathe, watching his cock kick as precum pearls at the tip. “You…” You’re struggling with your thoughts, trying to find the balance between being carefree and fun, and accidentally blurting out your feelings now that you’re really fucking high.

Kissing up his thighs, alternating sides every so often, you take your time, reveling in his needy whimpers. The sweet, soft kisses continue up his body, taking your dear, sweet time in hopes it’s beginning to distract him.

Steve can’t focus on being too high if he’s more worried about you moving too slowly, right?

“Angel, need you now,” His pleas of lust are music to your ears as you reach his shoulder, sucking softly along the sensitive crook of his neck. Your hand winds around to the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair as you hold the back of his head, keeping him upright. “Needa’ kiss you.”

When you pull away, a glistening thread of spit follows you, attached to your lips for a moment. Steve bucks upward at the sight, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“This is what good friends do for each other, right?” You whisper, breath hot against his own lips as you move closer. Maybe if you say it out loud enough, you’ll believe it. “Just fuckin’ around… helping each other out.”

Steve frowns, but doesn’t protest, just whimpers as your grip tugs on his hair.

“Can you be good for me?” He breathes out quick ‘uh-huh”s, about to reach for your hips, but you pin his arms to his sides. “I’ll take care of you, but you gotta do one thing for me.”

You begin to sink back to the floor, with a detour of your lips hovering just above his tip, gaze locked with his as you spit slowly onto him. Not even spit, more like drool. Steve gasps sharply, chest heaving, “Anything, name it, I’ll do it.”

“Hands to yourself. Everything stops if you touch me.”

Steve looks offended, “You’re kidding me.”

You giggle, “Dead serious.”

“But I- I wanna— ” You know what he’s about to say, it’s the reason you’re making this rule to begin with.

“Fuck my face?” As you cut him off, his face drops. “Not ‘til I say so.”

“What the fuck, how’d you know?” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper. You smirk, shrugging as you feign innocence.

“Might’ve heard you a few nights ago, walking by your door.” While you wish you heard him moan your name, the sounds you stumbled upon were still too sweet to let go. “You’re also an idiot for watching porn out here, thinking I wouldn’t see,” Your teasing makes his face flush red with embarrassment.

Mortified, Steve stammers, “I- I thought you were sleeping!”

To be fair, you were about to go to bed, but curiosity got the best of you that night.

You slipped down the hall, peeking around the corner and past the kitchen, where the living room’s only source of light was the TV’s glow of filth.

Steve was on the floor, sweats shoved down to his ankles, leaning back with his legs spread; he was fixated on the scene of some dude snapping his hips into a woman’s face, fucking down her throat. He thrust his hips up in time with the jerking motions he made, fist shining in the TV’s light from precum spilling over.

You were burning up as you watched, knowing it was wrong, you should give him space, stop being nosy… but it was also wrong for him to fuck his fist out in the shared space.

With a mind of their own, your hands rushed to where you needed them most, one between your thighs, the other under your shirt, grabbing at your chest; you tried your hardest to imitate Steve’s pace and pressure he had the day he offered to help you, but your own touch never came close to his.

You bit your lip to hold back your own noises as he groaned lowly, murmuring things like “That’s it… my good girl can take it all, huh?” The moans from tacky porn he watched were drowned out by his own. Silently, you joined him in the filthy fantasy, hand slapped over your mouth as your fingers toyed with your clit, cunt soaking through your underwear already.

Steve had no clue the two of you came together.

“I tried, ‘til I heard you moaning,” You admit without shame. “I’m not mad, Stevie. You could’ve invited me, though.”

“You… you watched me?”

Fuck. Should’ve kept that to yourself.

Should’ve really not done it at all.

Slightly grimacing, your hands slide off of him, “I— yeah. I know I should’ve gone back to bed, but… but you sounded so hot, I- I couldn’t sleep without knowing what you were doing.”

He grabs your hands and pulls them back to his body with a dopey grin, holding a hint of smugness as he breaks your rule already.

Through his hazy high, he manages to admit clearly, “Only did it ‘cause I wanted you to watch me.” Your jaw drops, unsure if you’re mad he played you at your own game, or if you’re impressed.

Nodding silently with a petty smile, you ask, “Hey, Steve? How’s your high going? Guess you’re done panicking, so you don’t need this—” in one fluid motion, you lean in, sliding your tongue up his shaft, lips wrapping around the tip, and take him in without hesitation.

The noises that leave Steve as his hips jerk are sinful and raw; his hands twitch as he keeps his hands near his sides, dying to grab you and fuck your face. He stays… well, not still, but he’s not touching you, like you asked.

As quick as it started, it ends all the same; you barely have him at the back of your throat before pulling back, drool following your lips as his dick is left throbbing and sticky. He’s panting, arm thrown over his eyes with his head thrown back onto the cushion.

“Right? You’re good enough to finish on your own?” You stand, spitting over Steve’s cock one more time before walking away, “If you still need some help, you can borrow my vibrator.” Your taunting is helping him race to the edge, almost over it, almost losing control and cumming without your mouth still on him. He wants to start stroking himself, almost does, but grabs you as you round the back of the couch before walking out.

You whip around, glaring at Steve, then his hand gripping a fist full of fabric from the back of your shirt, keeping you here. At the same time, he kicks his pants off completely.

“Oh, that vibrator? The one I got batteries for?” His high must be wearing off, just enough where he’s able to stand up and swing his leg over the couch. He’s behind you, half naked, with one hand snaking around your hips to pull you against him; you can feel how hard he is as he holds you tightly, slowly rutting into your backside. “The one that died on you? The one that doesn’t make you moan as loud as I did?”

You’ve got your thighs pressed together over his words, while his other arm slides around to your chest, over your neck, holding you in the position of a chokehold without actually doing it. Watching his arm flex as it winds around you, your stomach flutters while your pussy throbs.

“C’mon, honey, you can tell me.” The hand on your hip slides past the waistband of your sleep shorts, sliding over your cunt before dipping his middle finger between your folds. Steve groans as he feels how wet you are, enjoying how easily he can tease your clit in small, slow circles. Your head throws back onto his shoulder, and he kisses your temple, lingering to hear your breathy moans in his ear.

“Barely touched you, and you’re already going dumb on me,” He can feel the way your clit throbs as he taunts you. “What happened to you being in control? You had it for a second there, babe.”

There’s only two thoughts taking space in your mind right now:

You hate Steve right now.

You need Steve, right fucking now.

Shoving his hands away— he never had a tight, promising grip to begin with— you spin around to take his face in your hands, kissing him roughly. Steve stumbles back towards the wall, lips still attached to yours as he sighs through his nose; a muffled grunt vibrates into your mouth as his back hits the wall. You’re not even trying to take back control, you just couldn’t stand another second without kissing him.

As he pulls back, Steve catches your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging a bit before letting go, breathless. His hand grips your chin roughly, “You wanna finish what you started?”

Steve releases your face, and you nod with a pout and lust-blown pupils; you start sinking back to the floor, but he holds you up by your hips, tugging at your shirt again. “Off.”

“Only fair if you do the same, Stevie,” Your shirt rolls over your body and crumples on the floor. You’re about to remove your shorts, but Steve’s faster, leaning down to your chest, biting along the swell of your breast. “F- fuck,” You’re gasping as he continues and flips you around, with your back against the wall now.

Immediately he’s sucking and swirling his tongue around your nipple; low, muffled groans add to the dizzying work his mouth does. His large hand reaches for the other nipple, pinching a bit before his palm is blanketing over your breast, groping roughly. You’re whining and bucking your hips towards nothing, so he takes pity on you, shoving a leg between your thighs.

“St- Stevie, I was— oh, god,” You can’t focus with his hands and mouth on you, all while pressing his thigh against your core. You really are going dumb for him, and you wish you could have this all the time. “I was t-trying to take care of you, asshole.”

“Didn’t say you can’t, just wanna play with you for a bit.” He’s kissing back up your chest, up your neck, skipping your jaw and cheek to jump right back into a rough, messy kiss. It’s a lot of tongue and spit and teeth and nothing close to the softness of the first time you two kissed, but you need this right now. You need him like this right now.

Pulling back, you snap “I’m ‘bout to lose my mind if you don’t fuck my face or cunt in the next ten seconds.” Steve freezes, pulling his leg away, hands finding their new spots pressed against the wall, arms caging you in.

“Don’t tease me like that,” Steve warns, licking his lips as he looks down at you. “Because you have no idea how badly I want— need that,” He exhales roughly, forehead falling onto yours, ignoring how his cock twitches, desperate for attention. “And if anything makes our friendship weird, s’gonna be that.”

With wide, sweet eyes, you gaze back at him, pushing him back a bit, “So make it weird.” His eyes fall shut while he sighs loudly. “Steve, this has been weird since the damn vibrator died, it’s going to be weird forever, just accept it and fuck one of my holes already. I need— ”

Steve’s ripping your shorts down and off of your legs, pushing your legs apart when he pauses to look up at you from the floor. Hands grip your hips so roughly, you know he’ll leave handprints behind.

It happens so fast— his mouth is on you, hot and unforgiving, pace nowhere near the soft and sweet demeanor he had the first time he went down on you. Your hands fall to his head, fingers weaving through his locks to pull, hard. The shameless groan he lets out into your cunt makes your knees buckle, vibrations only adding to the intensity he sucks and laps at your clit with.

“Oh, fu- fuck,” You’re going to climax before he’s even inside you if he keeps it up, wishing you weren’t so easy to please. His pretty doe eyes, still red from his high, never leave yours while he continues burying his face between your thighs. “S- St— ohmygod— M’gonna cum t’soon, y’gotta stop.”

“That fast?” His fingers seamlessly switch with his tongue for a moment, murmuring, “Y’can just cum again.”

“But I— ” Your body jolts as his tongue flicks at your clit while two fingers slide into you with ease. “I w- this was supposed to be ‘bout you…” Your words become lost as you notice the steady, repetitive motion of his arm, stroking himself as he eats you out.

Steve doesn’t reply, he’s just working relentlessly to push you over the edge. You’re too far gone to make him stop, whining while grinding onto his face, so close, so very close—

He pulls back, hands still holding you up, watching as your body reacts to a ruined orgasm; twitching, legs shaking, walls fluttering, moaning, all while feeling so empty. The spark of your high had been snuffed out, leaving you with an ache still between your thighs despite being a breathless mess.

You’re walking a thin line between retaliation and desperation, eyes stuck on Steve as he stands, smirking as he leans in close.

“Guess we’re even now, huh?” He taunts you with that gravelly voice that sends blood rushing straight to your core. You’re speechless over his ill-intent, how close he brought you to an earth-shattering high, just to leave you in the dust.

You want to switch, take over, make him beg, but you’re so hung up on the lost bliss, you can only bring yourself to nod as you pout, ready to cry.

Steve notices the tears building before you even do. He’s holding your face softly, concerned, “Too much?”

Shaking your head, your bottom lip trembles; you’re overwhelmed from the way he just ruined you, and all you can respond with is, “Need you.”

“Honey, you need a break, it’s okay,” You’re shaking your head again, but his hands tighten just enough to hold you in place. “M’sorry, I— ”

You surge forward, kissing him roughly as your hands slide up his arms, holding him as he holds you. Your arousal is still sticky on his lips, tongue slipping between them to tease against his. Moving his hands slowly, you guide him down to your hips, moaning into his mouth. Your hands move to his face, forcing him to look at you as you pull back. A string of slick follows your lips while slipping slowly from his own.

Eyes locked with his, you’re certain in your demand, “I. Need. You.”

Steve’s frozen as he takes in your words, still registering the messy kiss, your emotions, everything that just happened. Thankfully, it’s only for a moment.

Breaking out of his daze, he’s helping you stay steady as he hitches your leg up and around his hip; Steve’s arm slides under your leg to keep you in place, quick to use his free hand to grab his cock, sliding the tip along your folds. You gasp and shudder as he teases your over-sensitive clit.

“Need what?” He gets it now, you like this, the humiliation, the overstimulation… What he thought was payback for the way you left him high and dry, only made you more of a submissive, pliable mess. “Need me to stuff that pretty little cunt with my cock?”

Your eyes roll back between the dirty talk and the feeling of his length sliding between your folds, cruelly brushing against your clit. It’s not enough.

“Ye- yeah, Stevie, need that.” You’re whimpering as he teases your entrance, barely pushing through. You whisper shakily as he pulls back, “F-fuck.”

“Okay,” Steve simply replies. Then he stops right at your entrance, eyes flickering to yours with a wicked glint, “Beg. Go ‘head, like you do when you’re touching yourself.”

The desire to be dominated by him takes a backseat. Instead, you break from the haze you began slipping into,close to sub-space, glaring as you spit, “I hate you.” You don’t, but you sure hate the way

“Hm… doesn’t sound much like begging at all.” He starts to pull back, but you tighten your leg around him, pushing him against you.

The switch is rapid. “You wanna go back to fucking your fist?” You spit— literally, you spit down between the two of you, coating his length with extra slick and making him shiver. “Because you can go do that if you’re gonna play games.”

Neither of you ever know when to quit.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this-” He thrusts into you, hard and fast, throwing your head back against the wall as you cry out. The stretch is instant, and he stays still, deep inside as you adjust, thankfully. It still doesn’t make the sting subside… but you kind of love it. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt, nothing you’ve felt before with anyone you’ve ever fucked. “— Was what you wanted. I don’t think your useless toy can make you feel like this.”

For how weak Steve feels at the knees over how you flutter around him, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. You, on the other hand, your leg still on the floor is shaking as you try to stay up. Steve notices, cradling your face by its side in one of his strong hands while his eyes search yours for any signs of distress.

Instead, you just look completely fucked out from just one thrust already.

The hand still on your face slides behind your head, keeping you from slamming your head back. Arm still under your leg, he firms his grip. “I got you, won’t let y’fall, don’t worry,” His tone is soft and caring, a noticeable change from moments ago.

“Such a gentleman, even w- when you’re balls deep in your roommate, huh?” Your joke comes out shaky, still adjusting a bit, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What you care about right now is for him to actually fuck you. “Steve, need you t’move, please.”

Steve smirks, slowly rolling his hips back before slamming into you again. “There she is, that’s m’girl,” He rasps, repeating his motions, slowly reeling back to impale you on his cock again. Your heart flutters when he calls you that.

His girl. It means nothing to him, but for now, you can keep it to yourself and play pretend.

All you can do is whimper and moan, shaky and incoherent. Steve’s voice is sweet, soft, with a taunting edge, “It’s okay, only asked you to beg once. Y’want me to take care of you, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” You pant, fingers digging into his back, scratching, marking him up. “Don’t trust you, though.”

The power dynamic drops from Steve while buried deep in you, admiring how angelic you look like this, lost in the consequence of your desires.

Angelic probably isn’t the word that fits your attitude in this moment, but the way you tilt your head back further into his palm, trusting him, how your hips roll into his while your eyes flutter shut, softly whining while resisting your eyes wanting to close, wanting more than anything to admire him in return— yeah, you’re as close to an angel as he’ll get.

“Promise you’ll get to finish, I mean it,” He breathes. “No more teasing, I mean it. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as his thrusts pick up ever so slightly, trying to nod to acknowledge his promise, but you’re already fucked-out, dumb and cock-drunk.

Steve twitches inside of you, “Bet no one’s ever made you feel this good n’ full before, huh?”

“N- no,” You rasp as your arms wind around his neck, “Can’t have anyone else after this.”

That shoves Steve closer to his own high, making him groan, “No? Why’s that, honey?” Every time he calls you that, you tighten around him, earning a hiss through his gritted teeth.

“Don’t think anyone— h’my god— can fuck me like you can,” You can’t hold back your thoughts or feelings. “Don’t w- want anyone else.”

Steve’s trying his best not to let his mind wander, not to let his thoughts and feelings consume him. You’re not saying what he thinks you are, what he wants you to confess. He continues railing you, grasp leaving your head to touch you, bring you to that blissed out high you deserved from the start.

Fingers on your clit, your head falls back, bumping against the wall, and he can’t help the snort that comes out while you giggle and groan over the ache.

“Jesus christ, don’t fuckin’ do that,” He warns after feeling you tighten around him while laughing. He shoots a winded, lazy smile. “Next time we’re fucking in bed, promise.”

“N- next time?” You’re asking, and Steve just murmurs a quick “Uh-huh” as he snaps his hips roughly up into yours, rewarding him with the most sinful moan he’s heard from you yet. He’s fucking you fast and hard, only focused on getting you off, for real this time.

“Steve, you— you’re— ” You’re fighting yourself, kicking your feelings aside; you can’t ruin a good thing, even if neither of you never figured out what this ‘thing’ is.

“I got you, c’mon, lemme feel you soak my cock,” He’s mumbling, eyes darting from your expression to where the two of your bodies meet, mesmerized as your hips stutter while he feels you reach what you wanted all along. “That’s it, just like that.”

His praise sends you over the edge, choking back a scream and failing miserably, “M’close, so cl— oh, fuck!” You begin to tremble and pulse around him, eyes twisting shut as you almost throw your head back, but Steve grabs you in time— that’s a habit you really need to break— tugging you towards him and kissing you roughly.

Moans are muffled to whimpers as he melds his lips with yours, feeling his own high just in reach. You pull back as he continues stuttering his hips, thrusts growing sloppy as his cock pulses deep inside you.

You’re still riding out your climax, yet somehow manage to ask him, “You close, baby?” Steve nods as a breathy, sweet sound shudders out of him. Barely finishing on him, you push him back, just enough to pull off and sink to the floor.

“Wh— ” Steve watches through hooded eyes the way you slide your mouth back onto him, tasting yourself as he pulsates again against your tongue; he takes back over, thrusting fully into your mouth while holding your head in place. “H- oh— honey, m’gonna—“

Steve’s moans are the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard, breathy and vocal as he shudders out a string of expletives while he comes undone buried in your throat. Greedily, you swallow what you can, but it becomes too much; you pull back and hold his shaft, letting him finish on your face.

For a moment, Steve is stunned. He wasn’t expecting you to let him finish like this; you might look angelic to him, but that’s no match to your sinful demeanor and unholy desires.

“Fuck… that’s my girl.” His praise tugs at your heartstrings when you know it’s not that deep.

You can’t help giggling as he comes down, aware of the mess on your features, licking your lips while gazing up at him. You’re going to kill him, no ‘ifs, ands, or buts’ about it.

Though you never asked, he’s certain he won’t find anyone who compares to you.

Dropping to the floor, Steve leans in to kiss you, catching you off guard he tastes himself on your lips, moaning lazily into you. Pulling you into his lap, his hands wind around your waist, knowing how gross the two of you are right now, but he needs you. Ignoring how he’s still half hard, he just needs to be close to you, to be vulnerable with you.

He never said it, but he’s absolutely positive he won’t find another friend who trusts him this much, another roommate who puts up with his nonsense, high or not, another lover who can laugh at the real and awkward moments during sex and still stay intimate.

Your soft, drained voice breaks his thoughts, “Did that help, Stevie? Or d’you need more distractions?” You’re joking, but secretly wishing he’d say yes.

Steve wants to say he needs more distractions, needs to fuck you on every single surface in this apartment, needs you to put him in his place while he promises to be good for you, be so good for you that you’ll throw out that goddamn vibrator and use him whenever you need.

Instead, he only asks, “I thought you said you don’t have much experience?”

Again, you laugh, and all he can think of is the way he could feel you laugh while balls deep inside of you. “I don’t, I just read a lotta corny romance novels.” As you stand, you hold a hand out for him and ask, “Wanna share a shower? Heard it saves on water, or whatever. Y’know, the thing you thought we didn’t have in the apartment.”

Grabbing your hand, Steve just laughs softly with an eye roll. “Yeah, you’re right, you definitely read a lot of corny romance novels with lines like that.”

It’s so comfortable, so natural, to go from such intimate, filthy moments, to joking so casually with you.

So while you lead him into the bathroom, while the two of you kiss lazily under the hot, running water, while he’s riling you up again with your back pressed against the shower wall, Steve’s so sure of one more, tiny detail with his feelings towards you: he’s fucked.

So, so fucked.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #my fics #it felt like love & drugs

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