#“do you need any help sweetie? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 8 months ago

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𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫! | t. fushiguro + k. nanami

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Taking your daughter to a sleepover with her best buds is easy peasy; ending up staying over at said sleepover to have some fun of your own with the two single dads you're crushing on? Not so much...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dilfs! Toji + Nanami x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; single parents au - implied you + Nanami are in early 30s; Toji is in late 30s - Tsumiki (age 10), Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara (8) - mutual pining/crushing - fluff then SMUT then fluff - kissing/making out - mutual masturbation (m! + f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play + sucking - Daddy kink - threesome - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spoon/sidesaddle dp + reverse cowgirl dp positions - clitoral play (swiping) - praise - breeding kink - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (angel, baby, good girl, love, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - Nobara is your daughter; Yuuji is Nanami's - mention of drool/spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.8k (Christ almighty...)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask from one of my anons; so happy to be writing an actual fic after a month, yippeee!! and tysm for 7.7k, my loveliesss!!

“Hahah, I win again!”

“No fair, I used the aerials like you taught me, what!?

“Yeah, but there’s no point using them if you’re just gonna let Itadori counter.”

“Shut up, Megumi! Hey, Yuuji, one more time!”

“Hey, keep it down, you three.” You warn the children who cause a ruckus in the living room from the dining table.

There’s nothing wrong with hanging with friends or going to someone’s house to play. Children are highly encouraged to do so to form deeper relationships! It’s what you’d want for your child, your sweet daughter poking out of her public shyness now that she’s playing video games with two of her best friends at a playdate.

Your daughter, Nobara, heard your warning and swerved her head back to apologize. “Sorry, momma! Itadori’s just cheating!”

“No, I’m not!” The pink-haired boy sitting next to your brunette daughter on the living room floor retorts. “She just sucks at playing!”

“Why you…” The two kids glare and argue to themselves while another sits on the living room couch and sighs at the interaction before him. Megumi was his name, the raven-haired boy putting his attention back on the animal encyclopedia he was reading.

You chuckle before speaking again, “Well, cheating or not, keep your voices down, okay? Tsumiki is trying to do her homework.”The kids nod and return to their fun on the television; the sounds of controller buttons mashing and clicking fill the absence of their voices, and you go back to what you were primarily doing. “Need any help there, Tsumiki?”

The fourth grader perks up from using her name, flashing a weary smile in your direction. “I’m trying to find these countries for my quiz on Monday, but where are Colombia and Guyana…?” The paper before the little girl exhibited a blank sheet with a map of the North and Southern American continents; a word bank is provided to the side with a list of countries.

Getting up from your chair, you walk to the vacant side where Tsumiki is and sit alongside her. “Hmm, let’s look at this together…”

This wasn’t your home; it belonged to the father of Yuuji Itadori. Staying during your daughter’s playdates was a rarity, particularly in another parent’s house. Yet today is a Friday, and you didn’t really have much to do other than clean the apartment and maybe catch up on a show or two. Besides, it didn’t hurt to watch the kids play and laugh now and then.

Luckily, you aren’t the only parent here; two other parents are taking out of their day to monitor the kids with you! The only problem is that…they make your stay a bit difficult.

Footsteps are heard descending the hall from the bedrooms, and your eyes peer to find a man walking into the kitchen area. “How’s studying going?” Golden blonde hair was the first you see, followed by the pleasant look of his chocolate brown eyes. A slim-fit grey long-sleeved shirt hugs his frame well, accompanied by dark-fitted jeans and dress socks. Kento Nanami, Yuuji’s adoptive father, has entered the scene and has made your heart skip to an irregular tune.

Thankfully, saving you from making a fool, Tsumiki answers the man. “Good, Auntie Y/n is helping me remember countries of South America!” She says with a blinding smile.

“Is that so?” Nanami opens a cupboard to pull out a glass to pour water. “You think you’ll be okay for the quiz?”

“Mmmm, if I remember five countries out of ten, I should be fine. I know more, thanks to Y/n!”

“Good,” your breath hitches when he walks to stand behind the chair you were sitting on. “And how are those three?”

You cough before averting your gaze to the living room. “They’re fine,” you watch your daughter exclaim in glory after finally beating Yuuji in the video game. The salmon-haired child groans in defeat, standing up to switch with Megumi so the other can play. “Nobara loves playing with the boys; they make her competitive spirit wild. It’s funny because she’s usually quiet and soft-spoken around me and others. However, that doesn’t explain her track record with terrorizing the boys of the school…”

Nanami chortles at your observation, the sound almost hypnotizing you. “Children bring out a different side in each other, helps them grow.”

“Wise words—“

Grrooorrr!

You both stop at the sound of a rumble, glancing at Tsumiki to see that it is her grumbling stomach. The child chews her quivering lip and hides her face by looking back at her homework. You giggle, “You hungry?” She nods slowly. “Me too, sweetie; the pizza should be here any minute.”

“That’s odd,” Nanami takes a sip from his glass. “He said the food would be done by the time he’s off work. It’s almost 7 o’clock, is there traffic on—“

KA-CHA! CLACK-CLINK!

“Yo, I’m here with the pizzas,” another voice, a lot lower and gruff than the blonde’s, enters the space. Your heart skips again, and you instinctively turn to find the source — you know who the source is.

Giant steps draw near the kitchen area, keys rustle as he stuffs them inside his jeans pocket, and the other hand holds three pizza boxes. After putting the food on the kitchen island, the man scratches his onyx head and stretches. His loose-fit cotton sweatshirt slips for a peak of his abs to be seen, and your eyes pull back before they hook onto the tanned skin for too long. Green eyes capture yours, and a smirk uproots the scar on the right of his lips. “Hey, Y/n,” the way he says your name pulls you in. “Good thing I caught ya before you could leave.”

You gulp to wet a dry throat. “It’s good to see you, too, Toji.”

Toji Fushiguro, the father of Tsumiki and Megumi, strides from the island down to where you three are, ruffling his daughter’s brown hair as a greeting. “How’s homework goin’?”

She swats her father’s hand away, fixing her ponytail. “It’s okay, I’m just hungry now.”

On that note, you decided it was time for everyone to take a break and eat. “All right, kids, the pizza’s here; come over and eat!” Nobara wastes no time springing out of the couch and sprints for the dining chair next to Tsumiki after you stand to grab the paper plates.

The boys don’t move, eyes glued to the screen and fingers moving across the controllers. Nanami tries to get their attention again, only for Yuuji to excuse themselves for a few minutes. The golden-haired father looks to the other before giving him a curt nod, a signal for Toji to walk to where the boys were sitting and turn off the television. They groan in unison before the black-haired man picks them up effortlessly and waltzs back to the dining table. “Time to eat, squirts.”

You have known Nanami for a long time, meeting him around when Nobara was still aged by months and could barely walk. Being a first-time parent is no easy task, especially since the man took Yuuji as his own after the death of the baby’s parents and grandfather when he was just a newborn. The transition from sober salaryman to committed fatherhood wasn’t an gradual one. But you know what they say: it takes a village, no matter how big or small. You found Nanami at the perfect time while you took care of Nobara, lending a helping hand to the single guardian whenever he needed advice or help looking after the pink-haired babe. He’d return the favor, of course, having you two spending and getting to know more about each other throughout the years. So, as the babies grew and became friends, so did you and him.

Toji entered your life around the same time as well; a single father of two was just as [if not more] challenging as your scenario. Not to mention – the poor man had to work ungodly hours, sometimes calling up a friend to look after his kids. You felt for him, even Nanami, so you’d help him out as well whenever he needed it, whether it be picking up Tsumiki and dropping her off at daycare or rocking three-month-old Megumi to sleep and waiting for the father to return home safely deep in the night.

Without the hood of parenthood, you three wouldn’t have become such good friends. Although there have been rough moments, at least you had the two to share and relate with if necessary. You’re so thankful for both fathers being in your life, serving as dependable outlets as you three grow along with your children. And it’s an even bigger blessing watching the kids have become great friends — practically inseparable! Words cannot express the gratitude for Nanami and Toji, treasuring the men so much that you’d love to maintain this mutual relationship with them as long as possible.

Being friends is more than enough; however, a tiny piece of yourself wishes something more to come out of this friendship. Admitting that to yourself is enough to have your ears heat up in shame. Crushing on the two fathers like some school girl, how embarrassing…

But can you blame yourself? As you all sit down and eat around the dinner table, you find it hard to restrict your eyes from wandering to either side of the table where the men sit.

Don’t get it twisted; you’ve always thought of the dads to be attractive men. However, the more time you’ve spent visiting and getting to know them, you’ve found that they’ve become more and more charming as the years go by. Now, it has gotten a lot worse.

Nanami is so entrancing to the eye — damn near looks as if he walked out of a movie set. His mocha eyes were so soft and perfect with his mellow tone. The charismatic blonde easily played with your heart with how attentive he was, making sure if you and Nobara ever needed anything or ever wanted someone to voice with. God, he was too good to be true, it was hard not to fall in love with him — you were honestly mesmerized the moment he first said your name. Now, solely seeing him is enough to make your ears hot and your heart race. Your admiration for him threatens to dwell into that of a childish crush — how mortifying!

And Toji — fuck, that man. Aside from having a body literally sculpted like an Olympic athlete, the dark-haired man was somebody who knew how to wind you down. Maybe it was the baritone voice that always captured your attention or the mischievous jokes and flirts he’d throw your way; whatever it was, Toji knew how to draw you in. Sure, you were a little intimidated by him at the start, but that’s long been substituted with feelings of trust and mutual respect from seeing how much of a good father he tries to be for his children. Although, the more you hear his gruff laugh, see his smile pull the scar, or forest green eyes drilling holes into your very being, the more you want to slap yourself for thinking about him day by day!

Goddamn it! As you sit at this table chewing on your pizza slice with the others, all you can think about is how pathetic you must be for falling for the two heartthrobs of your life. It’s appalling how these two fathers have yet to snatch up somebody, knowing there would be lines of people wanting a piece of them. And you sigh heavily, thinking if there’s ever a possibility you’d be lucky enough to be on the receiving end with either.

Probably not…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Annnnd BAM! UNO!”

“What?? You’re cheating!”

“Am not! You can put draw twos on plus fours!”

“Hah!? That’s not in the rules!”

“So? That’s how my mom plays.”

Why am I being brought into this… You shake your head as you observe the kids play their final card game before bed. All the children are dressed in their respective pajamas, sitting in a circle around couch pillows as they draw and place cards down. The sunset has long been set as the hour hand touches the eleventh number; the kids usually go to bed at eight or nine. But it’s the weekend and meant to be a sleepover, so one or two more hours of fun shouldn’t hurt anyone.

“UNO Out!!” Except for the heavy groans shared with Megumi and Yuuji as Nobara finishes the card game with an enthusiastic slam, turning around to give the older brunette a high five. “See, Tsumiki? I told you I can handle it!”

“Man, that’s not fair,” Yuuji throws his card pile to the floor in exasperation. “Wish I knew about that rule beforehand.”

Megumi does the same, “You should’ve made the rules clear before we played the game.”

“Wahh, keep complaining, loser,” Your daughter annoys the boy with a blown raspberry. “Fine, we can try again; if I win, I’ll have Yuuji's bed to myself and Tsumiki.”

“Not happening!” You and the salmon-haired child deny the winner’s request, and the girl only snickers mischievously while Tsumiki deals the cards.

Saved by the sound of footsteps approaching from the hall, Nanami is now here to dismiss the bunch. “All right, kids, time for bed.” Every one of them mourned at the statement; Yuuji quickly requested five more minutes, only to be shut down by his father. “Nope. I’m done with my shower, so you four must get to bed — that was the deal.”

“Aww man…” The four begrudgingly get up from the living room floor after putting the cards away and setting the pillows back on the couches. Before they leave, they wish you a good night. “Goodnight, Mom!” Nobara comes rushing to you for you to kiss her cheek.

“Goodnight, sweetpea,” you let go of her so she could run back. “And you three — where are my kisses?” Yuuji and Tsumiki happily come for you to place a goodnight kiss on their cheek. All that’s left is the silent child of the bunch who, unfortunately, doesn’t slip past your eyes. “That means you too, Megumi. Or else I’ll chase you down and kiss you up a storm like last time, you hear?”

The black-haired one fights a smile creeping his face, slowly taking steps to where you sat and fidgets as you kiss his cheek. You wish the boy goodnight, and he follows the others down the hall to the bedroom after doing the same.

“Fushiguro’s in the shower now.” Now that the children are gone, Nanami sits on the left side of the couch before dimming the ceiling lights. He turns on the television, “Seems like they’re having fun.”

“Mmm, they are,” you settle by the middle to be close to him. “I can’t believe they’re all so big now. Didn’t Yuuji just turn eight years old last month?”

“Mhmm, he’s now the same age as Nobara and Megumi,” he says with a smile. “For a little while, that is. He is the youngest, after all.”

“You’re right, poor thing.” You giggle with a stretch. “Nobara’s gonna be nine this August, and Megumi at the end of the year…”

“Hmm. We are old.”

That made you laugh hysterically as the delivery of the comment sounded so defeated yet true. It’s okay, though, since Nanami was laughing himself with a shaken head. “Don’t say it like that! They say you get sexier during your thirties.”

“Are you sure about that? My grandfather had photos from his thirties, and he was balding and getting chunkier before turning thirty-five.” More laughter seeps through your lips. “I don’t know, Y/n; not all of us can keep fit like Fushiguro; he still works out while halfway approaching forty.”

“Now, hold on, Nanamin,” you grin while pointing to Nanami, and you can see him try to fight a smile after using the nickname he supposedly doesn’t like. “You can’t say shit, either; you still look like a model coming straight out of a Men’s Vogue magazine!” That made him laugh more, the sound warming your heart. "You still got it, Kento; a real prince charming."

“Why thank you, Y/n,” he appreciates the compliment.

��Of course.”

The silence following that felt unsettling and had you fidgeting with the bottom of your halter top. Five uncomfortable minutes of nothing but the lowered volume of the television to fill the space. Come on, Y/n, keep the conversation going. “So, almost ten years, huh? A whole decade.” You watch Nanami nod along through your peripheral. “I remember the first time I met you; you looked like you barely got any sleep for the past month.”

“Because I didn’t. I was hassling with back-to-back meetings, on the cusp of finding another job to take outside of being a salaryman, and then had little newborn Yuuji to come home and put to sleep after feeding. Thank God you could babysit for him with Nobara; I’m forever grateful.”

“Oh God, I remember when you came home so tired while I was rocking both to sleep. I think that was the first and only time I’ve ever seen you fall asleep on the couch; so tired you forgot to greet me!”

“We don’t talk about that,” he scratches his ear. “That wasn’t so bad when we promised to watch over Megumi and Tsumiki during the weekend while Fushiguro went to take up so many jobs. He fell to his knees once he passed the threshold, and I had to walk him to his bed.”

You tittered at the recollection — all the memories mentioned made you feel warm and glad, all the years coming back to you with a happy memory. “We’ve done good, though. We managed, and the kids are growing to be good friends.”

“Before you know it, maybe Nobara will come to you about liking the boys—“

“That isn’t happening; I asked her the question like three weeks ago, and she said if she and the boys were the last people on Earth, she’d kill herself.” Nanami gasped and stifled a laugh, but you could see his shoulders bounce. “A third grader — an eight-year-old – telling me she’d off herself rather than be with one of the boys. Talk about radical...At least she loves to hang with them; she loves those boys like they’re her little brothers.”

The blonde hums to your words. “Them being close is a blessing. I guess that’s thanks to us, having each other’s backs all these years.”

It’s your turn to nod to him. “True, and I’m just glad they like being with each other.”

“Same here; Yuuji likes being with you guys,” he throws his head back. “…Just like I do.”

You blink. “What do you mean?” Suddenly, you feel as though you shouldn’t have asked that question because the way Nanami turns his head to look at you nearly paralyzes you. Oh my God…

“I like being with you.” He says it tenderly, only for your ears to pick up. “You make me feel at peace when you’re around, and I’m not as close to anyone as I am with you. A decade of you being in my life has made it more serene and…fun. So, I like it when you’re with me.”

You didn’t breathe a single puff of air during his speech. The worst part was that these were Nanami’s words — they were genuine. You could feel it in his bronze gaze, your heart unable to control itself.

And it doesn’t help that your eyes took in every detail of him; his hair, usually neat and styled, is now down and damp from the shower, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His home wear comprised a loose sweatshirt and dark grey sweats, but you snuck a glance of his collarbone that peaks from the opening collar of his shirt. You move your gaze to the floor to stop yourself from looking any further, or else more fuel for indecent fantasies will be stored for later!

Fingers fiddle with each other as you chew on your lip. God, Y/n, just fucking say it! “I, uhh…I like being with you, too, Nanami.”

“Do you really have to go?” He scoots in. “You know I don’t mind you staying over.”

“I—ahem—I think, yeah…I wouldn’t want to intrude on you and Toji; I’m sure you two would wanna catch up on stuff. I’ll just come back and pick Nobara up in the morning before—”

You stop uttering more once you feel a sudden hand on your right shoulder. Turning to your left, you didn’t even realize Nanami scooting to be so close to you, his face a hand’s length away from yours. Once again, you have forgotten how to breathe. And when he places his left hand on your right that lies on your lap? You don’t move a centimeter.

“I want you to stay,” his tone low and sincere. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I like you being around me. I…” He brings your hand to his lips, and a soft kiss makes you gasp faintly. “I love it, actually.”

You gulped. There’s no way this is happening right now. There’s just no way! “Kento—“

“I mean it.” He kisses your knuckles again, his eyes locked in with yours. He chuckles, “You were right.”

“About…what?”

“As you grew older, you have changed quite a lot. You’re…Well, no, you’ve always been pretty. But, all these years, you’ve become a lot more beautiful,” he draws his face in closer. “Breathtaking,” you instinctively close your eyes when his nose brushes yours. “Sexier.”

Nanami’s lips land on yours on the final word, and you don’t move a muscle when he does so. They felt soft against yours, perfect for the mellow kiss. It doesn’t last long, only a few seconds. Yet you quivered as he withdrew, placing his forehead against yours as his hand weaved with your fingers.

“Ken…” Fuck, this is too much. The hand on your shoulder exhibits no interest in getting off. “I can’t, I have to—“ he shushes you with another kiss.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” What the fuck!? Did he just use a pet name on you? “You know I can take care of you, right? Even for one night,” you tremble when he licks your bottom lip. “Stay for tonight, okay?”

“Kento..” He pauses when you hesitantly remove your right hand from his grasp, thinking you’d push him off. But then you bring both hands to cup his sunken cheeks, caressing him with your thumbs. “…More.”

He doesn’t wait a second, accepting your request and bringing his back on yours. Small pecks to the lips gradually become more arousing and tilted heads to achieve a better angle for entry. You moan to his mouth, and so does he. Tongues slowly become adventurous, twirling with each other and exploring the other’s mouth. It feels so good; you lean into Nanami’s hold with every kiss. And he happily accepts you as he gives you more.

Jesus Christ, something straight out of a dream. And if it was, you only hope to indulge in it for a little longer. More, more—

“What do we have here?”

However, you can’t indulge if another person comes into the frey unsuspectedly.

Two bodies retreat from each other, sitting awkwardly on the couch appropriately as Toji walks into the living room. Your lips shook with anxiousness, stealing a glimpse of Toji’s smirk as he walked to your right. You sneak a glance at Nanami, seeing the shade of pink rise on his skin lightly, and you cover your face to shield yourself. Fucking fuck, this is embarrassing!

“Don’t act all shy on me now, you two.” Toji’s weight dents the right side of the couch, extending his arm to be behind you. “Don’t be scared, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Did you check the kids?” Nanami fakes a cough.

“Out like a light,” he answers, creeping his hand from behind onto your shoulder. You shudder at his calloused touch and gruff laugh. “What’s goin’ on, Y/n?” You meekly turned to look at him. Same with Nanami, Toji’s dark hair was damp from the shower, substituting his day outfit with a blank tank top and grey sweatpants. It took everything in your power not to peek at his pecs or exposed biceps.

You avert your eyes from his. “Nothing…” You saw his chest jerk from a scoff.

“Wow, you two are really gonna act like some kids, huh.” His snark remark has you both flattening your lips in shame. “Act all quiet when somethin’ happened.”

He prompted you to question. “How much…did you see?”

“I saw the kiss — you looked like you were enjoyin’ it.” He purposely said that to make your cheeks hot, the brazen bastard. “But I heard Kent here say he means it when he likes havin’ ya ‘round.”

Nanami speaks up while scratching his brow. “Y/n was, uhh, just about to leave.”

Toji lifts a brow. “Leave? When the night is still young?” He subtly shakes you. “Why so soon, hmm? It’s the weekend; I just got outta the shower an’ hoped you’d be here a lil' while.” He spoke to you slowly. It was a dangerous approach with that husky voice. He squeezes your shoulder when you’re not answering.

“I just….You and Nanami probably have some ‘guy stuff’ you wanna catch up on, and I don’t want to come in between that, you know?” It’s here you muster the courage to look at the raven-haired man. Big mistake; now he has your attention where he wants it.

“So considerate, huh,” his free hand comes to your cheek, and you’re frozen as he plays with the flesh of it. “I think you should stay, Y/n. What kind of friends would we be if we let you drive out late."

It’s hard to remind your body to breathe when Toji is surveying you intimately. What the fuck—why is this happening all of a sudden!?? “You–Toji, it’s okay, I’ll—“

“Besides,” he teases you by rubbing your earlobe with his thumb and forefinger. “I like you bein’ here, too.” You’re too distracted from him bringing his face to your neck to kiss, evoking an unstable gasp. “Lookin’ all pretty fr’ me…”

“Toji…—Ahh!” You didn’t notice him slide his hands down to the chest area of your halter top, his large palms groping your breasts affectionately. His kneads are rough yet pleasing, having you whimpering for him. “Don’t touch so…Hahhh…”

“Bad girl,” he chuckles to your ear after placing a kiss on your cheek. “Over here lettin' Kent touch you and think you can leave without me havin’ you for a bit, especially when you were eyein' us up earlier today...” He kisses your lips to take in your silent squeaks from fondling your chest, and you mewl for him. “Daddy wants you, too, baby…Heh, so does Kent.”

You peer to your left to see the mentioned man, and you’re taken aback to see him close to your side again. Holy shit. You literally questioned about this earlier, wondering if you’d ever be on the receiving side of these two. You did NOT expect this answer to come out of the blue within a few hours! And now that it’s here, how could you leave now?! This is what you wanted. And – to your surprise – so did they.

You swallow spit and lift your left leg to the couch. And Nanami notices the initiative, coming between your legs to kiss your lips again. Your back pressed against Toji’s chest, you’re caged between the two men who seek to pleasure you in this proximity. You moan to Nanami sucking on your tongue, coinciding with the satisfying kneads of your breasts.

Suddenly, Nanami breaks the kiss with a groan, and Toji chortles close to your ear. Curious, your eyes venture down to find that Toji’s hand grasps the tent of the blonde’s sweatpants. “Enjoyin’ y’rself, huh, Kent?” Toji strokes his hand on the boner, evident through the clothes.

“Toji, st—Hnnn…!” You watch this, eyeing Nanami’s composure slip away as his cock is being touched. The older man willingly massages his friend’s dick, and you observe how he effortlessly makes the sand-headed man hornier with his hand alone. It makes you feel hot, sensing a throbbing sensation in between your thighs. So, you silently bring a hand to sneak inside the hem of your wide-leg jeans.

But you don’t go unnoticed because Toji kisses your cheek. “Like what ya see, sweetie?” He rests his chin on your shoulder. “Want me to take care of you? Here,” he then takes your hand to swap with his, your fingers feeling the rough skin of Nanami’s cock as you hold it. “Make him feel good, ‘kay?”

You couldn’t believe it — Nanami’s hot, living cock was in your grasp. And as you have begun to stroke him, the noises he made turned you on even more. His veins are felt in your very palm, and precum exuding from his urethra lubricates the pretty fingers around his length. You can’t help but imagine how it would feel to have him ease the aching pulses between your legs, how good it would feel to have his girth massage your insides.

But your crude thoughts are interrupted by Toji’s left hand skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, slithering inside your panties, and meeting your wet cunt with his fingers. You jolt, but he’s right there to coo, “Relax, mama,” his free hand squeezes your chin to turn and face him. “Daddy’s gotcha…So fuckin’ beautiful,” Toji slams his lips into you for a steamier kiss, and you lose yourself.

Your hand on Nanami goes faster, eliciting extra precum to escape and stain the material of his sweats. Nanami leans forward to lick and suck the skin of your neck, forcing you to break the kiss with Toji to wail inaudibly while his fingers brush up on your soaked folds with unforgiving speed. Not to mention his bulge grinding against your back…

“Ahhnn, wait, guyss, we can’t—Mmmm…!” Toji kisses you again, grinning at your expression as he sucks and nibbles on your tongue. “We can’t do this…Not here…”

“Why?“ Nanami blows on your ear. “What’s wrong, love?”

CREEAAKK!!

That’s what’s wrong!

Like a flipped switch, all three adults unscrew themselves away from each other and sit back into their original positions. Nanami immediately pulls his pants back up, using a couch pillow to hide the situation that shouldn’t be present as he’s sitting in the living room. Toji follows suit, leaning on the couch arm.

Sounds of tiny footsteps draw near, and they belong to none other than your daughter, who sleepily rubs her eyes coming into the space. You are the first thing she sees, “Momma? You’re still here?”

“Mhmm,” you hoped you didn’t sound too off. “I’m just watching a movie with Uncle Toji and Kento. What are you doing up?”

“I thought I heard your voice,” Nobara walks to you and puts her head on your shoulder, and you voluntarily pick her up to have her sit on your lap. You smile; even though she’s growing day by day, she’s still your baby at heart. “Didn’t you say you’d leave after I go to bed?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to,” the two men sitting on either side of the couch say nothing. “And I can’t go now, seeing you’re still up.”

Nobara nuzzles into your neck. “Does that mean you’ll spend the night, too?”

“Mmm, I wish I could, sweetpea,” you kiss her forehead. “But I didn’t bring any change of clothes or pajamas. I don’t even have my toothbrush – I’d be walking around with stinky breath.” You hear the girl giggle at your words.

What you just said gave the two fathers an idea, the men giving each other a look before saying anything. “I have some unused travel-size toothbrushes and toothpaste I’ve kept from business trips.” Nanami inquires; you put your foot in your mouth on that one.

Toji adds, “You can use the sweatshirt I wore today as PJs. I don’t mind.”

Of course, you don’t. Shaking your head, you knew what the two were insinuating. The adult language is too nuanced for your daughter to pick up on. It’s not like you’ve never slept over Nanami’s place before; you’ve done it dozens of times — even Toji’s! However, this time was different; you three have crossed a line you didn’t think was possible. What happened minutes ago was a mere taste of what could happen if you three decided to change this relationship into something more intimate. And now, after revealing the curiosity, the men were all in to see it through.

…And yet, you can’t say you don’t feel the same either. Are you kidding? You have goosebumps just thinking back on how close you three were, how their hands and lips felt on your skin, and their attention placed on nothing – on no one else – but you. It made your heart beat uncontrollably, knowing that your decade-long crush on them was being favored in more ways than one — like a dream come true!

“Mom?” Snapping back to reality, you peer to Nobara, who awaits your answer. With a smile, you boop her nose with a finger.

“Only if you go back to sleep, sweetpea.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The hour hand had finally met the twelfth number, the midnight hour designating the quiet neighborhood into a calm slumber. Light posts automatically turn on to display the sidewalk, yet the darkness of the night serves as a blanket to cover the silent homes.

Nanami’s home was simple — a one-floor house perfect for the blonde man and his son. Aside from the living room and kitchen, it had a hall that harbored the bedrooms, Yuuji’s guest bathroom, and closet. The children were all resting in Yuuji’s room, the first door to the left you’d meet when entering the hallway. Other than the master bedroom, there was no other room besides the living room couch for you to sleep in.

Being by yourself is something Nanami wouldn’t want, and Toji would’ve primarily taken the couch since you had no plans of staying. But since that’s been changed, the two men took this opportunity to enjoy their sleepover with your company, using the master bedroom at the end of the hall to further themselves from the ears of the snoring kids. Tonight, you’d finally have your answer by being spoiled by your crushes all night.

“Dahhh, Toji, yer tongue…fingers…Ohhh!”

“Fuck, Y/n, you look so gorgeous…Here, kiss me, angel.”

“Mmmm, fuckin’ shit, y’ taste so good…Waited so long fr' this..."

You were practically stuck with them the moment they locked the door. After borrowing Nanami’s shower, your nude body was met with hungry hands and hot kisses, drowning your senses with their overwhelming presence. Three naked bodies lie on the bed, you with your back to the sheets and legs spread. To your right was Nanami, making out with you lovingly while a hand cups and massages a breast. Toji had his face nestled between your thighs, his tongue licking around your labia and fucking your vagina, inspiring you to cry for the blonde next to you. The older man also pleases you by fingering your asshole with lube, conditioning it for future use.

You melt into Nanami’s kiss, and soft tweaks on your nipple make you mewl into his lips more. But you withdraw to scream, “Ahhaaa! Kentoo, touch me more…”

“Hmm? What, baby?” He presses his lips to your cheek, kissing your chin to the outlet between your neck and shoulders. “You like it when I play with your chest?” A low snicker humors him from watching you nod, and he brings his mouth to your nipple to suck on.

You grip the sheets, “Ohhh, hooo…! Tojiii, y’re gonna make me c—Uuuhh!”

He separates his mouth from your soapy folds, and your liquids stick to his chin. What an obscene sight with the grin he has on his face. “Yeah? Ya wanna cum on my mouth, mama?” Unlike Nanami, Toji doesn’t take a nod; he’s a bit of an asshat, so he licks your clitoris to tease. “Use them words, baby; wanna hear you say it fr’ me.”

“Y–Yesss, yes, I do,” a hushed howl after Toji sucks on your pearl and the other rubbing on your nipple to the roof of his mouth. “Pleaseee, I wanna cum…!”

“Heh, well, don’t go cummin’ on me just yet,” he kisses your slit before straightening up and pats your inner thigh. “All ready fr’ ya, Kent.”

Nanami then releases your nipple with a ‘pop’ and maneuvers to lay on his side. “Come here,” he asks, resting your head on his arm and lifting your leg. You hum at the contact of his glans meeting your cunt, “So wet for me, huh?” He pushes his cock to the entrance, and you gasp at the tip inserted into your vagina. “Relax, angel,” he coos to you with a kiss on your nose, gauging your reaction as he slowly snugs your vagina with every inch of his cock.

Your mouth goes agape at the stretch of you taking him in; the feeling of his cock feels too good and surreal. And the brush of his dick on your sweet spots has you squeak, same with him poking on your cervix. He throws in a few thrusts to start, but you didn’t expect that. No, fuck! He rubs on your walls at a precise angle, prompting your orgasm to come a bit too quickly to comprehend. So, you have to bite your lip to keep your scream hushed, letting the flutter of your cunt speak for you.

And Nanami notices it, hissing at the contraction. “—Hnnm! Shit…Did you cum, sweetheart?”

“Oh, did they?” And here comes Toji, straddling both the bodies below him. He leans into your face, licking your ear. “Felt that good, huh, baby? We haven’t even started.” He kisses your forehead before uncurling back up and aligning his dick to your lubed anus. Then, he pushes the tip to be swallowed by your puckered hole, and you mumble small prayers as his fat length is pushed inside. “Shit, this tight ass…”

The older man begins to move into you, his shaft churning the inside of your ass. Nanami does the same, his cock scraping your insides synched with Toji’s rhythm. The movement has you immediately making noise beyond your control, wails bouncing around the space between you and the men.

It isn’t long before the two find a groove; Toji pistons his cock with every pull of Nanami’s, and sounds of skin slapping lasciviously against each other are picked up by your ears. How could you not tighten more around the limbs inside you, especially when they scrape on against your tender wails so accurately? Especially after coming, your nerves have not yet recovered from the wave earlier.

“Ohh! Hoooh fuuuck,” your back arches a bit, helping the sand-haired man to find a better angle to scratch the upper wall of your vagina. Your vision is screwed shut, making it easier to indulge in the sensation of their cocks ravaging your insides.

Toji sees you from up top, his eyes traveling down to your ass and whistling at the sight of you taking his and the other’s dick. “Damn, ya feel so good, Y/n. Ass so tight, act like ya don’t wanna let go.”

God, why’d he have to say it like that? Your face was hot enough; did he want to make you melt on this bed? And Nanami doesn’t make it any better. “Heheh, they twitched,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, felt it, too…What’s goin’ on, sweetie?” Toji pulls his cock until his cockhead is on the verge of coming out, and he slams it back down to have you moan aloud. “Ya like bein’ fucked like this? Takin’ Daddy’s cock like a good girl…?”

“They’re gripping me again.”

“Ken, stoop!!” The fair-headed man laughs at your protest, your resilience still present even if it’s wiped away in seconds when Toji quickens his pace. “Nnhhh…! N-Not too fast, I’m sensit’veee—Ahhh!”

“You say that, but your body says otherwise, love,” Kento brings a hand to your hip to massage. “—Nnnn! Jesus…wanna cum so bad…”

Oh, fuck, imagine: being filled to the brim by Nanami’s come? Being stuffed by both of them? It turned you on so bad. “—OhhhGod, please, cum inside me!”

Gold eyebrows furrow. “I can’t, baby; don’t got a condom on—“

“It’s okay, I want it…!” The thought of getting pregnant again should be the very last thing that should pop into your mind right now. And yet, being knocked up by these two has you craving Nanami’s release even more. “Pleaseeplease, I want you to fill me up…! Don’t hold back for me, Ken.” You can tell he’s still on the fence about it. But with a kiss on his nose and a soft hand on his cheek, you convince him otherwise.

“Wanna be the mother of my child so bad, huh?” He says with a chortle, “So beautiful…” Before he snaps his hips into you, Nanami brings you in for one more kiss and wraps his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. He ruts into you with purpose, making sure he’s balls-deep with every push and reaching the deepest he can. You howl at the brush of your cervix again, allowing him to use you to chase his climax.

“Oh? You got him going, now,” Toji comments from above with a smirk, still maintaining the pace with Nanami despite the younger male going erratic. Your screams go higher and higher, so you bring in a hand to cover up the noise. This was not the time to test how thick the bedroom walls were, despite the kids sleeping a closet and office away.

Nanami groans into your lips; his length relentlessly rubs your silky texture. And when his orgasm does reach him, he grinds his pelvis, stirring his length so deep that you can’t help but writhe with him. You can feel his penis pulsate with every pump of his load inside you, satisfying your excitement as your hand massages his skull. He keeps you like this until his body has calmed down, sluggishly removing his pillowy lips from yours with a sigh.

Chocolate brown orbs are fixated on yours, the hand on your hip coming up to wipe spit from your face. “God, you drive me crazy. Making me cum inside, one child’s not enough?”

You titter, “Well, wouldn’t hurt to have another, you think?…Mmmm,” you almost forget about Toji. The raven-haired man removes himself from your ass, his shaft still standing.

“Don’t forget ‘bout me, now,” he reminds you two of his presence, getting his frame off you both so you can move around.

You stand with your knees between Nanami’s legs while he sits upright. “Come here,” he places his hands on your hips and leads you back onto his cock. This time, he’s the one entering your asshole, and you both moan at the union of your sexes. Once your ass meets the base of his pelvis, his arms wrap around your waist and carefully bring you down with him. Your back to his chest, his lips to your ear. “So tight and warm…Hmmm.”

This position is new to you – in fact, this was all new! You can’t remember the last time you had your body this close and intimate with another figure. It’s been so long – damn near bizarre - especially when your heat is transferring with the gold-haired man behind you. The aroused hums to your ears have you throb involuntarily; you could melt into his arms right about now.

That thought goes out the window when Toji’s weight has you looking in front of you, and your brain nearly shuts down at the sight of the older man coming in between your legs to lift them, his emerald eyes locked on yours. Jesus, fuck! You had to turn away – it was all too much!

“Ah ahh, don’t go turnin’ ‘way from me,” he gives your legs for Nanami to hold from the back of your knees, and then he cups your cheeks and moves your face back to him. “Waited almost ten years to have you like this, so I wanna see all of you, mama.” Just when your face couldn’t get any more unreasonably hot, this handsome bastard just had to say that while fondling your chest! And it doesn’t help the other charming face is placing kisses on your neck.

Toji uses this position to spread your folds; he can’t suppress the ardent smirk lifting his scar. “Kent did his thing on you, and ya still want more, huh?” You press your lips together when he slaps his glans on your leaky chasm. “Watch...” Your eyes follow down to the tip of his dick, vulgarly using the come seeping out of you as lube. You gasp sharply at the insertion, “Breathe fr’ me, baby,” he coaxes you through every inch of him, burrowing inside your inner channel that you almost forget to blink from the display. The girth of him has you wail beneath him, and you cry at the poke of your cervix again! Christ, you don’t know how long you can do this.

“—Hnngh…! Fuck, good girl,” the dark-haired one praises, grinding his pelvis down to churn more friction inside you. “So good fr’ Daddy...”

Slow ruts to your chasm begin the second round, three bodies rocking within a mutual cadence. You throw your head back with shut eyelids concentrating on the two dicks that push to and fro from your holes and scrape your walls. And a choked scream leaves your frame at the jab of your cervix again.

“Ohhhshiit,” eyebrows furrow with a chewed lip, and the two men begin to quicken the pace. “HooohGod! F’eel so good…Ahahhn!”

Toji puts his hands on the headboard as leverage, using his hips and the flex of his abdomen to take control. Fuck, seeing his nude physique so up close was too marvelous; it couldn’t be true — it shouldn’t be!

And Nanami is no better while whispering to your ear. “Feeling good, Y/n?” He teases your lobe with a lick, “Gripping on us like crazy as if you’ve been waiting for this, hmm?” You try to protest, but all that comes out are sobs when he jerks his hips unexpectedly. He chuckles, “So cute…Hmm? Heh, you are feeling good, huh, love.”

Can you believe it? Being fucked by these two attractive men, and you’re fingering your clit in the midst of it all? Embarrassment rings your ears as your fingers swipe and grind around the neglected pearl. Toji and Nanami share a look for a split second, and then Nanami switches his hands with the other. Instead, an arm snakes around your waist to keep you on him, and the other silently moves yours aside to play with your clit.

That only has you crying even harder. Pinches to your clit and kisses to your leg accompany the increased speed of their thrusts. Tears well up at every jolt of your body from the frequent jabs to your vaginal walls, scraping your G-spot so precisely. And the length in your butt keeps feeling so fucking good! Grazing your velvet texture that you can’t think straight.

“—Gaahhh! Mmmph!” Your hand finds Nanami’s wrist to hold on to as his middle and ring fingers swipe on your clitoris. You scream his name when he pitches it softly, “Kent—Ohhh! Shhtop, ish too much!!”

“Yeah, too much?” He toys with it gently. “But I don’t hear you telling me to stop…”

The two of them go at a sporadic pace, skin slapping onto yours harshly in sync. They nearly take your breath away, thanking God they have a hold on you before the momentum steers you away. “Hahah, ohhh, ohmyGod, guys,” Toji bends down to add more of his weight, making you howl from the angle of his fat cock. “I cannn’t; again, I’m about to cuuhmm agaiinn!!!”

“Really? You wanna cum, baby? Mmph! Fuck, this pussy…” He groans. “Gonna be a good girl and let Daddy finish here, yeah?” You nod, and Nanami pinches your clit again on Toji’s behalf. “Words, sweetie, words.”

“Yesss, Daddyyy!”

“Gonna lay there and look cute while I knock ya up, right?” Again, the thought of having another baby should not have you excited. But again, there’s no way your head could be right during all of this. “Hmm? Want Daddy to give ya a baby?”

“Mmmm! Please, Daddyyy, fill me up…!” You were spouting out nonsense, but who cares? “Make me a mama again…Ohhh!”

And he does just that, pounding his shaft at you so harshly that it rocks your entire body, especially with how he brings your legs up to your chest to have your slit fully exposed for him. “Holy shit,” he bites his lip as he eyes your nude frame before him. “Look so fuckin’ sexy like this, Y/n.”

You couldn’t thank him for the compliment, your lips busy with Nanami’s as he takes you in for a steamy kiss. Both men drill their members into you in erratic unison, leaving you a squealing mess for the fair-headed one to deal with. His hands continue to tweak and grind on your clitoris, and your orgasm hits you before you can prepare yourself with a tear trickling down.

And the flutter of your walls around their cocks eggs them onto waves of their own, groaning along with your cries as they piston you with the final ruts of their hips. Their pulsating lengths exert their loads inside your holes simultaneously, filling you up with their essence as their sweaty bodies heave and shudder. Nanami releases your clit from his grasp, the same with your lips.

He hums pleasantly, his brown orbs hooded yet comforting. “Told you I love having you around me.”

“Bet y’re glad you stayed over,” Toji’s hand finds its way to your chin after putting your legs down. He scoffs when you bashfully nod, bringing you in for a kiss. “Did so well, mama…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Mornings are typically a thing you share with your daughter in the comfort of your home. From the moment she came into your world to having her own room and bed, Nobara would always be the first thing you’d see when waking up. Coming into your room to greet you, pulling you out for something, or get dressed and ready for the day with you – it was a routine the two of you shared, a sacred thing to enjoy between parent and daughter. So, to wake up in a room different from yours or see a different face has been a rarity ever since she became your top priority.

This morning, though, was one of those rarities.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

Your eyes flickered open from birds chirping and the sun peaking from the bedroom curtains. Drowsy eyes scan around to see that you are not in your room, already being alerted that something had happened last night of the change of scenery. And when you look to see who lies beside you, it all hits you like a slap.

It was like a scene from a romance movie, waking up to Nanami’s stunning face that was highlighted by the sunlight. Fair blonde hair that matched the softness of his russet eyes and a kind smile to match. And your breath hitches when he brings a hand to caress your cheek.

“Mornin’, Y/n.”

And, of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d be greeting you. You sheepishly turn around to see the other man looking at you, viridian orbs ready to meet your pretty face. The smile on his face pulls the scar on his lips, the man effortlessly shooting an arrow into your heart.

Everything that occurred the night before flashes, and the heat returns to dance on your cheeks and ears. Waking up in a different bed with two handsome men is one thing. To wake up to your crushes greeting you good morning, all three of you nude and comfortable after a night of mutual passion? Oh, you had to be dreaming still.

And yet, you couldn’t look at either of them in the eyes, averting your gaze modestly. “…Good morning,” you say quietly, almost squeaking your heart out when they both move to be closer. They kiss you, embrace you, and give you attention as if your decade-long crush has finally been lifted for them to spoil you. It’s kind of suffocating in a way. But, God, it felt so good.

Eventually, you got up and threw on some clothes to make food for everyone, Nanami joining you after putting his sleepwear back on. Toji had to leave for a moment to grab stuff from the store, his daughter waking up to the sound of him slamming the front door close. Then came Megumi, then Yuuji, who greeted Nanami with a hug, and now Nobara. The children sit around the table and mingle while you and the blonde fix some blueberry waffles, eggs, and bacon.

“Isn’t that my dad’s shirt?” Megumi was the first to notice it, pointing to the sweatshirt that went with your loose jeans — the same sweatshirt that Toji wore yesterday.

You flatten your lips before coming up with an answer. “Yes…I had nothing to wear for sleeping over, so he gave me his shirt. He didn’t mind; he brought an extra one.”

“You stayed over, Auntie?” Yuuji inquired after taking a sip of his apple juice. “Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch.”

Brown brows scrunch together before Nobara asks, “But wasn’t Uncle Toji the one who’d sleep on the couch?”

You open your mouth, but words fail to exit out. Sharing a glance with Nanami, who coughs while putting waffles on plates, he covers for you. “He slept in my bed with me.”

“You slept with my father?” Tsumiki interrogates, trying to stifle a laugh. “He snores a lot, so I’m sorry if you couldn’t sleep, Uncle Nanami.”

As if on cue, the front door opens and closes with the arrival of her father, walking to kiss Tsumiki’s cheek and ruffle Megumi’s hair before entering the kitchen. He pulls something out of the plastic grocery bag and hands it to you. Putting the mixing bowl down, you take what seems to be a box, and your eyes widen to Toji’s amusement. “I’d take those before leaving if I were you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you put the box of birth control to the side with a flustered face. “Thank you…” And before you can process it, Toji sneaks a kiss on your cheek with you distracted. The older man cackles to himself when you slap his arm and push him off. Thankfully, none of the kids notice.

“Uncle Toji,” Nobara grabs the man’s attention. “Is it true you slept with Uncle Nanami?”

The question takes him aback, but Toji’s quick on his feet to reply. “Yeah, I did. Your dad looks like a dead man when asleep, Yuyu.”

The pink-haired child nods along to the nickname. “Mhmm! Even when he comes home from work, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, like some kind of vampire.” You snuck a glimpse at the sand-haired man, who rolled his eyes before bringing plates to put on the table.

“Anyways,” he diverts the conversation to a different subject, placing a plate full of food in front of the boys. “Be ready for the zoo after breakfast, Yuuji. Didn’t you say you wanted to see the new tiger cubs?”

The Fushiguro siblings brighten with interest at the mention of the zoo, turning to their father, who instantly shuts them down with crossed arms. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already takin’ you two to the aquarium tomorrow; you want me to pay for more tickets for some animals?”

The joy in their eyes diminishes in seconds. “Cheapskate,” Megumi mumbled under his breath, earning a blueberry to be thrown at him by Toji. But the siblings smile when Nanami says that they can come along.

“Momma,” you dreaded hearing your daughter’s voice during this conversation, hesitantly peering at the dark-haired girl after being given her breakfast. “Can I go, too?”

Oh, goddamn it. “I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t keep going back and forth from the house and wherever. Besides, you have karate today.”

“I can skip!” Your mouth drops at her enthusiasm. “Besides, we can just sleep over again!”

This girl! “Nobara, you can’t just go making those decisions like this is your home. Did you ask Yuuji’s father if it was okay to stay another night?” You probably shouldn’t have said that, as the girl immediately asks the blonde father the exact question. And to your shock, he says they’re free to stay another night. You’re not helping! “You don’t even have an extra pair of clothes!”

And to make it worse, the onyx-haired man beside you says this, which makes you facepalm with a groan. “I can drive you two home and back. Saves ya some gas.” You’re not helping either, and you’re just losing gas for my sake!

Mornings were supposed to be an easy thing to deal with. And yet here you are, dealing with a predicament. Shit like this is precisely why you don’t stay for too long during Nobara’s playdates and sleepovers; now you’re backed into a position where saying no seems futile. Nothing wrong with the children wanting to hang out more, but fuck does it throw the routine off. However, it wasn’t all bad. Because the whole point of this was for the little girl to have fun with her friends, who are you to be a Debby downer on her parade?

Plus…you’d get to hang out with Toji and Nanami for another day; that alone has your stomach running laps right now. Not only did you have your feelings reciprocated by the two men within a single night and then some, but you’re now invited to stay another day and enjoy the weekend in their company. You can sense their gazes on you, awaiting your answer – your approval to spoil and please you for one more night. And what makes your heart skip into flips is that there would probably be more days and nights to deepen this relationship between you three…

So, with a heavy sigh, you slide your hand down your face.

“…Can we at least go get some spare clothes first?”

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ranoutofficssoiwritemyown · 3 months ago

Text

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 with Rafayel and Xavier here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

#love and deepspace #lnds zayne #lnds sylus #zayne x reader #sylus #sylus x reader #lnds #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylusposting #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne

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amazinglyashy · 2 months ago

Text

Too heavy for me? Never

LADS men reaction to you only somewhat joking about being too heavy for them

Sylus -

He'll raise an eyebrow at you, staring down at you as you realize the joke fell flat. You try to back peddle, not wanting to cause any confrontation that never helps you feel better about your body anyway, but he simply holds up a hand to stop you with a shake of his head.

"I don't want to hear it, sweetie. I already know the nonsense you're going to say. How about you just come with me right now to the gym instead?"

You don't know how to tell him that saying that truly shattered your heart into a million pieces, so you just follow him in silence instead. You didn't think he would insult you so casually, and you were now trying to brace yourself for the inadequate feelings and self-loathing you were about to experience by having to train at the gym with him.

But... he didn't ask you to do a workout. He didn't tell you to get on a piece of equipment or to lie down on a mat for a physical exercise.

He told you to sit on a small bench against the wall while he went to the free weights close by.

Wordlessly, he loads weights- two- no, three times your weight onto the bar, before moving to lift it. Once. Twice. Again, and again and again-

His eyes flicker over to you at some point, and instead of making any remark or reference to the emotions clear across your face, he flashes you a slight smirk, just like he always does.

"Have I made myself clear, sweetie?"

Zayne -

Zayne will definitely think you're just pretending to be stupid at first.

He will look down at you with his brows furrowed and a small smile creeping on his lips, thinking it's all a joke.

"I lift myself during my workouts fairly easily, and I am capable of lifting a lot more. Quite funny, though I wouldn't make this form of humor a habit. It isn't particularly good for your mental health."

Then he realizes you're actually being serious in what you're saying.

He's upset, to put it lightly, but hes trying not to let it show. Favoring a small frown across his usually firm expression as he studies your face. Your heart will jolt just a little bit when you process just how sad his eyes look though... obviously he's hurt that you would even think something like that about yourself, much less come to believe it as true.

"Allowing a part of your brain to lie to you is not healthy if you don't push back with the truth. And the truth here, is that you are nowhere near too heavy for me to lift or carrying, even for prolonged periods of time. To demonstrate-"

And like it's nothing, he's picking you up and carrying you. His destination is not important, and the protests spewing from your lips fall on deaf ears as you try to gentle squirm out of his grasp. He'll continue to explain why your viewpoint is flawed, methodically and with logic, and in a way that you find yourself unable to argue back.

He doesn't want you to.

He knows you're wrong, and he will stop at nothing to prove it.

Xavier -

He's more surprised at the statement than anything. At first, he thinks you're making a jab at his strength, and wonders if he slipped up in front of one too many Wanderers and now needs to prove himself just to get you to stop teasing him for being 'weak'.

Once he (quickly) realizes that you're talking about yourself, jabbing at your own body and state, rather than at him, it's like a spark igniting in him.

"What? What would ever make you think that? No- that's not right. That's not right at all."

He's immediately going to try and grab you to lift you up, he doesn't care where you both are or what you're doing. Even if you've just woken up in bed and are still relaxing, he's trying to pick you up right then and there.

He stumbles trying to lift you, falling backward onto the pile of blankets and plushies that has taken over his bed. He feels awful, worried that you'll take his misstep as him falling over from your weight, immediately apologizing and trying to sit up and pick you up again before falling forward from the plush surface he's trying to rise on giving out too much beneath him.

You're both a giggling mess by then, and it's obvious to you that he's going to keep trying to prove it to you, just... a bit clumsily so. Several more attempts will be made as the evening goes on, and pretty soon he's showing you just how easily it is for him to lift you up- especially if he keeps doing it over and over and over again.

And he will continue to do it over and over and over again, even after today. As many times as it takes.

Rafayel -

You definitely made a mistake saying anything self-depreciating around him. Especially with how much he likes to prove you wrong in playful situations, this is something similar, but a lot more serious to him.

He'll make fun of you for anything, as long as you know he's just being lighthearted even if he's grumpy or upset when he fires a quip off at you.

But the second you agree with him, or say something bad about yourself- whether jokingly or dead serious- the gloves are off. He won't accept that from you, and he's already on it to figure out how to turn the opinion you've formed of yourself on it's head and into a more positive outlook.

Lifts you up bridal carry while spinning- quite literally sweeping you off your feet while he whisks you away. You would think you were a princess with how he spins around his studio with you in his arms, with no regard to the paintings or projects around him as he dances with you in his arms. And no matter how hard you protest, he doesn't stop until he feels for himself that he's done enough, giggling the entire time.

"Are you really going to doubt a sea god's strength? Geez, I didn't realize you were such a rude human."

He'll hold you up enough to press his forehead against yours, nuzzling against you with a smile, the slightest sadness playing across his expression.

"Man, I must be pretty lousy that you would ever think something like that about yourself. That must mean I don't think to pick you up enough like you deserve. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you by whisking you away every chance I see you from now on."

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #lds sylus #lds zayne #lds xavier #lds rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader

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dollgxtz · 6 months ago

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Sleepy Crow

Word Count: 1.8k words

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, somno, noncon, mentions of breeding, pet names such as kitten, sweetie, darling, reader is somewhat drugged but its her sleep meds!

AN: Hi all! This isn't my first time writing fanfics but I noticed a lack of Sylus fics with a darker undertone ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ". PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the tags and if this isn't something that interests you or is potentially triggering, please do not interact! I get this isn't everyone's cup of tea but this is a fic for people who like darker romance stuff!! Please enjoy, and I AM taking requests as I really want to get back into writing again. Do not hold back, this is a safe place! Ty!! <333

Sylus trudged through the pouring rain, his jacket soaked through and his hair matted against his forehead. The drops were heavy and unrelenting, pelting against the pavement and creating small rivers that flowed along the gutters. The barely lit streetlights of the N109 zone cast an eerie glow on the slick surfaces, reflecting off the wet asphalt like a distorted mirror.

As the man approached his mansion, he couldn't help but feel relieved. The warm glow of the lights shining through the windows beckoned him home. He fumbled with the keypad to the door, his fingers slightly numb from the cold, before finally hearing the click that beckoned his entrance.

The sound of raindrops hitting the roof and windows followed him, a steady drumming that seemed to fill every corner of the place. He took off his sodden jacket and hung it up, feeling the weight of it pulling him down. He walked through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floors, trying his hardest to be quiet. Mephisto was perched on his cage (not that he was ever really in it, it was more for decor) tilting his head when he saw Sylus brush past him but not making any sound himself.

He made his way to the bedroom chambers, deciding to make sure you were where you belonged. Peeking his head in the bedroom doorway, he saw your sleeping figure, chest rising ever so slightly with each breath. He smirked, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was happy you finally seemed to be getting some rest.

Your insomnia had been getting worse, and he'd been getting worried when he saw you were often messaging him at 4 am, sometimes as late as 8 am with no sleep. Of course he’d offer to have you over, to hold you and whisper sweet things in your ear until you succumbed to sleep, but he couldn’t always. Sometimes business was needed to be handled, and for those nights he had gotten you the best sleep medication that money could buy. You had been weary about taking them at first, but he had assured you that the side effects were basically none. He had made sure of it.

Sylus made his way to the bathroom, proceeding to rid himself of the damp clothes clinging to his skin. A quick shower and then he could finally curl up next to his little crow. Not that he would be sleeping yet, but it was nice to watch you dream. Sometimes you’d whine or make little noises, which he found absolutely adorable. He wondered what you dreamt about sometimes, but you had refused to answer much to his annoyance.

The hot water felt amazing after being gone practically all night. He washed all the blood and dirt from his skin, examining all of his various injuries. He had a run in with a few “pests” that he quickly exterminated, but they had managed to get a few nicks on him. He touched his arm where the biggest cut was, his Evol immediately snaking around it and healing it faster than he could blink. He did the same for the others, feeling brand new once more.

Some time passed before he finally turned the water off, dried himself, and slipped into a pair of boxers. He slowly made his way into the bedroom, hoping that he wasn't being too loud but you were out like a light. Sleeping like a rock.

Sylus slipped in bed next to you, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress sunk beneath his weight. It felt heavenly. He turned to put his arm around you, trying to get as comfortable as possible so he could hold you. He softly kissed the corner of your ear, his head starting to swim with thoughts. Surprisingly, he felt comfortable enough to possibly fall asleep with you.

But he couldn't.

He had been laying in bed for thirty minutes just thinking. He thought about all the business arrangements he needed to finish. Tonight had been…messy. No doubt he had made some new enemies. How impatient he was getting about the new weaponry he had bought from Spain. They should be arriving soon, but it had been taking forever.

How he wanted to feel your tight cunt pulsing around his fingers.

Sylus stiffened, attempting to rid his head of these thoughts about you. His efforts were in vain though, as he was already rocking a semi hard on that was steadily growing into a full erection.

Obviously there was nothing he could do about it. You were sleeping after all. And not only that, it's not like he could wake you to do anything anyways. He hates quickies, they bored him. He likes to take his time. To take in your reactions, your faces, and your noises. Besides that, you were taking a pretty high dose of your sleeping meds and he kinda doubted he could wake you even if he really tried.

This thought stirred in his head for a bit.

Yeah...you wouldn't wake even if he tried. He sighed with a twinge of pleasure as he pressed his erection against the soft cotton of your underwear. The pressure felt immaculate, and if he hadn't been gone all night he probably could've finished just by pressing himself against you. You were the only girl ever that could make him finish that quickly.

But it wasn't enough. He needed more. It had been a bit since he touched you like this.

You moved a bit in your sleep, letting out a small whine. He leaned over you to get a better look at your face. Still sleeping, mouth open slightly ajar. You were so fucking pretty when you slept.

“Such a sleepy kitten” he growled lowly, snaking his fingers underneath the hem of your underwear. He didn’t know why, but the mere sight of your sleeping face was getting him worked up. You looked so docile, so vulnerable. He wanted you. Sylus began to tug them down slowly.

This was very wrong. He knew this and yet he couldn't stop. He kept going, making empty promises to himself that he would only take a peek. He just wanted to see you. All of you.

Sylus froze has he finally pulled your underwear down to your legs, practically breathless at the site of your cunt at his fingertips.

"Fuck..." he groaned, unable to stop himself from pressing a finger between your folds. He watched you carefully for any signs of discomfort or movement, but you were still fast asleep as he pushed his finger in. You were warm, inviting even. It's like your pussy was sucking his finger in, deeper and deeper. He slid a second finger in, picking up the pace. Soon enough, your cunt was slightly wet, spots of your slick forming on the backs of your legs near your pussy. Pulling out, he practically shivered with excitement.

Sylus was quick to put his fingers in his mouth, savoring every drop of you. You tasted so sweet to him, the best flavor he ever had the honor to try. He wanted nothing more than to dive head first into the source and lap it up. But his erection was so starting to bother him. It was rock hard, and throbbing ever so slightly, begging to be freed.

He had to have you. And he had to have you now.

He pulled his erection through the hole in his boxers, beginning to stroke himself with an intense grip. Groaning as quietly as he could, he stared at your wet and welcoming cunt. He swore it was just begging to be filled by every inch of his cock. Still wanting him, even when you were asleep.

"You’re so pretty sweetie" he whispered in your ear, closing his eyes as electrifying pulses of pleasure crashed through him. Sylus told himself he should stop now, but it was past that point. He knew himself better than that. His mind was already made up, no matter how much he was trying to talk himself out of it.

Turning you a bit more on your side, he readied the fat head of his tip to your entrance. You stirred once again, mumbling incoherent nothings before becoming silent again. Sylus chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the tip of your ear as he stroked himself a few more times.

As he sinks his tip into your tight entrance, his precum smears all over your hole. He shudders with intensity, trying his best to hold back a groan, worried that making too much noise next to your ear would wake you. He pushes further and further until he can't possibly sink himself into you anymore. You squirm, letting out another whine, this one a bit louder than the last.

"Im sorry kitten…" Sylus coos, laying his head behind yours as he fucks you with a slow, rhythmic pace. "Just need to cum in what’s mine. Be a good girl and stay asleep for me”.

He rests one of his hands on your hip, trying to keep from shaking you too much as he continually plunges himself inside you. You were warm, your gummy walls constantly tightening around him. He moans your name over and over like a prayer, feeling lost in your walls. The soft clap of his skin meeting your ass echoes a bit in the room.

"You're fucking made for me. Look at you sweetie, tightening around me, trying to squeeze me dry even when you're sleeping" he whispers, feeling himself getting closer and closer to bliss.

His thrusts became sloppy and he had to slow himself, trying to savor every moment he had inside of what essentially felt like heaven. He had been wanting to fill you for days. Images of his seed erupting onto the walls of your fertile pussy, eventually giving you a nice, round tummy that would grow his baby filled his head and he couldn't stop himself from finishing anymore.

As his hot ropes of sticky cum shoot against the walls of your womb, he accidently grips your hip a bit tighter than he meant to. You yelp, and he quickly rubbed his hand over the spot he'd hurt you, ensuring you remained asleep. He checks the spot and sees some slight bruising already starting to form and curses himself silently for losing control and hurting you. His Evol was quick to move over the injury where his hand lay, instantly restoring your skin back to a healed state. Sylus was amazed he could even do that. His Evol had only ever healed him. It wasn’t until you came along that it had ever revealed that kind of power and it didn’t work for anyone else either.

"Shh shh, its ok. Just be still, I'm almost done filling you up darling…”

Once his orgasmic high subsided, he took a moment to catch his breath before watching as his cum pooled out of you. He took his finger and scooped as much of it as he could gather before gently pushing it back within your folds. Feeling satisfied with his work, he pulled your panties up before finally pulling the cover back over you.

"There you go. Gotta keep my seed where it belongs so you can make us a baby. Right kitten?" he chuckled, finally feeling tired enough to cuddle you and fall asleep.

#umi writes ♡︎#love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #sylus x reader #sylus #lads sylus #lads #lads smut #lads fic #sylus x reader smut #love and deep space x reader #l&ds smut #lads scenarios #love and deep space scenarios #sylus x reader fic

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pwettyaura · 4 months ago

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‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 — even when sylus is being nice, he can't help but be a little mean ♡

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: fem reader, established relationship, cock warming, fingering, ruined orgasm, overstim, slight choking, pet names ꒰ sweetie, kitten, sweet little thing, good girl ꒱, refers to reader's pussy as 'her', pussy slapping, dacryphilia.

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: this thought plagued me at work, so i had to write it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

sylus sits you in his lap so pretty, your legs hooked over his thick thighs, opened wide. his fat cock is stuffed to the hilt in your puffy little cunt, refusing to move and making you cry because you're so desperate to get fucked by your lover.

he pulls you back by your throat, presses your back to his strong chest, and the deep rumble of his timbre vibrates through your ribs as he speaks.

"you know what to do, sweetie," his index and middle fingers spread in a 'v' shape, parting your folds to expose your clit to the air. he rubs up and down, pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers.

you whine and pant, a soft sheen of sweat dampening your hairline, skin so hot you believe you may melt. you try to move your hips but he squeezes your throat firmly — a warning to keep you in your place.

"you want me to fuck you, you gotta get my dick wet first," he purrs with a depth that makes you gush around him, but it isn't enough.

sylus wants you to cum. he wants you squirming and trembling in his arms, creaming around him and dripping down his balls before he'll even entertain the idea of giving you what you want.

long fingers circle your sensitive bud, just enough to send shivers up and down your spine, your cunt squeezing him so nicely that he can't help but groan against your ear.

"such a greedy pussy.. can't be happy with what i give to her," he tuts, condescending and mean. tears sting your eyes at the overstimulation, his actions coming off more as torturous than pleasing.

"sylus, pleeease," you beg, your back bowing away from his abdomen. "need more, just... just a little more,"

you're already so high-strung, the coil in your belly wound up to its tightest, ready to burst at any moment. your hips thrust defiantly, and before you can register it, you've completely blacked out, head growing fuzzy and light as sylus slaps your clit, over and over again. it's more pain than pleasure, but still, your muscles twitch and burn as you drench his cock, your orgasm approaching whether you want it to or not, and sylus gives a shaky sigh.

your lashes are wet, forming little peaks as your frustration swells during the come-down. left horrendously unsatisfied, your tummy flutters with need, walls aching for more, more, more.

"aw, you're so pretty. what a sweet little thing you are," sylus grins, kissing the side of your head, squeezing your cheeks to hold you close. "if only you could listen as well as you take dick,"

your chest heaves with every breath. silent sobs tighten your throat as you tilt your head, leaning into his space.

"'m soh-ry..."

"hm? don't be sorry, kitten, i know you try," his words are honey-sweet. you know it's a facade. "but maybe you should try a little harder this time,"

he uses a flattened hand to massage your swollen folds, wet and flushed, already shaking in his embrace. "i pr... i promise, i promise..."

he grins knowingly. "that's my good girl,"

#꒰ 🎀 ꒱ special delivery.#sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads x reader #lads x you #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus smut #lads smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut

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sylusdarling · 1 month ago

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Tender

Sylus x reader

✧Sylus takes care of you while you’re on your period

Content: Sylus x fem!reader, no smut, fluff, he takes care of you, overall very soft, kinda short tbh

A/N: This is how I cope with my period, needing a Sylus right now. Also! I do proofread but my eyesight isn’t amazing so please excuse any mistakes :)

Being sent to the N109 zone while you were in pain wasn’t your ideal day. Waking up nauseous and in pain really set the tone for the day. Forgetting your gun at home and having to turn around while you were minutes away from arriving at work, being sent on a mission by yourself and getting a small gash in your face by a wanderer. Truly, you’d rather be anywhere but here right now.

You were too tired to make it home after your mission so instead you resorted to the next best thing.

Knocking on the large door, you waited for an answer. You were expecting Luke or Kieran to answer but instead Sylus answered himself. He looked down at you with his signature smirk. “So what do I owe this pleasure, kitten?”

“Hey Sy…” Today you had no witty comeback. Instead you looked at him with a strained smile and your hand was clenching your stomach.

His brows knit together and moved to the side in order to usher you in. “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice laced with concern.

You stepped inside and followed him down the corridor. “I’ve just had a really exhausting day. And I got my period on top of it.” You let out a little chuckle.

Sylus’ gaze softened while looking at you. “I see, follow me then.” Outstretching his hand to you, he made a motion with his fingers telling you to give him your hand. Placing your hand in his he wrapped his long fingers around yours. He led you to his room, “Sit on the bed for now, i’ll run you a warm bath, alright sweetie?”

Obliging, you sat on his bed as he disappeared off into the bathroom. You could hear the water running faintly as you closed your eyes. You opened your eyes once you heard footsteps approaching.

“Tired?” Sylus asked.

You nodded, “A bit.”

He nodded in understanding. “The bath is ready for you whenever you’re ready. I’ll be in the study when you’re done.”

“Thank you.” Smiling warmly at him, you made your way into the bathroom. You stripped off your hunter uniform and folded it, placing it on the vanity. Stepping into the warm water, you sunk down letting the water envelop you.

You were grateful for Sylus. The Onichynus leader was seen as cruel and cold by the majority and to be completely honest you thought the same at first. But it turned out that he’s sweet and deeply caring. Sarcastic and blunt? Most definitely. But you wouldn’t ask for anything else. You were grateful you got to see this side of him that was exclusive for you.

Deciding you’ve had enough of the bath, you stood up and toweled yourself dry. Wrapping the towel around you, you opened the bathroom door into the bedroom. On the bed there was a fresh set of burgundy pyjamas with a note that read, “For you -Sylus.”

After throwing on the pyjamas you made your way down the hall to the study. Pushing open the door you were met with Sylus’ broad back. Looking at the shelf he skimmed through the books looking for one that piqued this interest. After hearing your footsteps he turned around.

“Hey kitten. Feeling better after the bath?”

“Much better. Thank you for the pyjamas too.”

“You’re very welcome. If you need any meds let me know, I’ll send out Luke and Kieran to fetch some.”

“That’s sweet thank you, but I think I can manage.”

He made a gesture towards the couch, “Take a seat.”

Taking a seat on the couch, Sylus made his way over to you from the bookshelf picking up a black mug from the table as he approached. “Here.” He outstretched the mug to you, “It’s some tea, It should help with your stomach.”

Reaching out with both hands you grabbed the mug and took a sip. “It’s good, thank you Sy.”

The crimson eyed man took a seat beside you with a book in hand. “What’s that about?” You asked.

“It’s a fantasy novel. About a dragon and his lover.” He said as he opened the it to the first page.

Leaning your head on his shoulder you peered at the novel. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a fantasy person.”

Sylus chuckled, “I like it. It’s a change from everyday life.”

“How are your cramps? Would you like me to rub your stomach?” Sylus asked.

You considered it for a moment, “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Nothings ever too much trouble when it comes to you.” His hand moved to settle on your stomach. Softly, he moved his hand around on your stomach, the warm touch soothing you. You cuddled deeper into his side. “Read the book to me?”

A soft smile formed on his lips, “Sure, why not.”

He read the novel and his soft, husky voice began to lull you to sleep. The mug hung loosely in your hand as your breath evened out. Sylus glanced over at you and placed a soft kiss against your forehead.

“Sleep well, kitten.”

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace fluff #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #LADS x reader #sylus fluff #LADS fluff #LADS sylus #LADS sylus fluff

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boobearymuch · 2 months ago

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Their Habits —♡ LADS Scenarios

—♡Summary: Everyone has habits, but not everyone enjoys having you point them out... —♡Tags: gender-neutral, pure fluff —♡A/N: Silly thing I whipped up after being told I bounce my leg too much lolll —♡ masterlist

—♡ Zayne

Zayne squints so much without his glasses. He insists he only needs them when his eyes get tired—but clearly—that wasn’t the case. “Zayne, look!” You eagerly pointed out a flyer posted on the door of his favorite boba spot. They were hosting an event next weekend, it read, and encouraged customers not to miss out on the opportunity. You watched his hazel eyes sharpen into a squint.

“Event…?” He still had trouble reading it, though, and absently tugged your clasped hands forward as he leaned in for a better look. After a few seconds, his eyebrows relaxed, and he hummed appreciatively, “They’re introducing new flavors. Perhaps we should…what?”

You failed to conceal an amused smile. “You need your glasses, old man.” The nickname was not received well, by any means.

“The text is small.” He answered coolly, “The average person would also have difficulty reading it.” Then he slipped his hand around your waist, eyes narrowing, “And I’m not old.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you laughed, “Have you considered contacts?” The look he gave you was deeply unamused, “No, no, you’re right. You look cuter in glasses, anyway.” Zayne's ears tinted pink under your playful stare.

“...Let’s go inside before they close.” You pinched his flustered cheeks.

“Are you sure? The menu is so tiny. What if you can’t read it and order the wrong thing?” Your mouth promptly shut after his grip on you tightened in a warning. Zayne remembered to bring his glasses on your next outing (and the one after that).

—♡ Sylus

Sylus hums nonsense when it’s too quiet. It’s like he constantly needs to fill silences with some kind of noise. Even his humming is off-key…

“What song is that?”

Sylus barely spared you a glance, “What song?” His fingers worked a microfiber cloth into the metal of his pistol.

“The one you were just humming.”

He huffed, “Didn’t realize I was humming, sweetie.” Then he removed the cloth to admire his handiwork, “Don’t you recognize it?”

You almost felt bad for saying this but, “...No?” Sylus finally glanced up from his work to shoot you a look. A concerning one.

“Really? You had it on repeat all day, yesterday.” Horror dawned on you at the realization, “The chorus has been stuck in my head since morning…” And then a laugh sputtered from your lips.

“Oh my god, that sounded nothing like it.” Sylus glared and returned his focus to his pistol with what you could only describe as a pout.

“What a picky kitten.” You bit your lip to stop the smile threatening to break loose. He was a god awful singer, but the room felt emptier without his noise. Gently, you padded over to where he sat, and invited yourself onto his lap. Despite his mood, a hand wrapped around your waist without hesitation.

“Sing it again.” Sylus’ hold on you tightened, “I think I like your version better.” A soft chuckle left him, and quietly, he hummed once more.

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel taps. All. The. Time. Taps his legs, hands, pens, pencils, anything and everything within reach. And he’ll deny the hell out of it when you ask him to stop. “I wasn’t doing anything,” The candies on his phone screen lit up and exploded with color as he scored another combo. Too engrossed in his phone to realize the arm slung around your shoulders was still tapping you. You leaned into him with a huff.

“You’re doing it now.”

Rafayel gave you a sidelong glance, frowning, “I dunno what you’re talking about, cutie.” You suddenly captured his hand to still it, and Rafayel gave you the most scandalized look, “If you wanna hold it that badly, I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re not even aware you’re doing it,” You blinked incredulously, “Are you?”

Rafayel threw his head back and groaned dramatically, “Doing whaaat?” Then he lifted his head to press his forehead against yours and huffed, “Is this your way of telling me to get off my phone?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like a fish up close like this.” Rafayel pulled away to roll his eyes and clicked his phone off.

“Alright, fine, you have my attention.” Then he began tapping his foot, “You know, that’s a little offensive to say to a Lemurian. You could get cancelled for that.”

Your hand drifted to his bouncing knee, and you watched as both your hand and his leg now jumped up and down. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?!”

—♡ Xavier

Xavier is always chewing on something, and it is almost always never gum. It’ll be something random, like a straw from a drink he’d long since finished. The strings of his hoodie, a toothpick. Once, it was a plastic tie. He reminded you of a teething puppy; he’d probably chew on wires if you left him alone long enough. Today, though, his chew toy of choice looked a lot like…

“Xavier, is that my pen?”

He blinked, eyes floating from his comic book to your frown, “Yours…?” His jaw froze mid-chew.

“Yeah,” You scooted closer on the couch, “the one from my desk at work.”

A blush crept along his cheekbones, but he didn’t drop the pen like you expected him to, “...Are you sure?”

Your eyes fell to the pen trapped in the corner of his mouth, “The one with little stars on it? Yeah, that’s mine. I thought I lost it at work, why do you have it?”

The comic book shifted in his hands, “I found it, that’s why.” This explanation would be more convincing if he hadn’t shifted his gaze sideways. His blunt fingernails picked nervously at the corner of his book, curling the edges.

“Xavier,”

“Okay, I borrowed it.” You bit back a chuckle, and he guiltily removed the pen from his mouth. It shined with his spit, and the cap bore teeth marks, “You can have it back.”

You couldn’t hide your grimace fast enough, “...Actually, you can keep it.” Xavier merely blinked before bringing the tip back to his mouth. Then a smile curved the corner of his lips.

“My pen now, hm?”

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tojicide · 2 months ago

Text

⠀⠀ BOO! ☆ SYLUS QIN.

summary. the ruby wedding ring your ex-husband gave you should hold no meaning by now, so that was why you wore it on halloween night as an accessory to your costume. it shouldn’t be a big deal… right?

warnings. fem! reader. established history, pet names, jealousy, mutual degradation, spitting, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), unprotected p in v. wc. 3.2k.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⟡ masterlist | request

Dressing up as a vampire was a stroke of genius if you do say so yourself.

A black floor length dress with a mighty high leg slit with your makeup done to the nines…

After being showered with compliments and approached by men who fawned over you like their lives depended on it, you were almost inclined to believe that being this sexy should be punishable by law.

Luckily for you, it isn’t, and that’s exactly why you’re a free woman who is able to enjoy this wonderful Halloween night.

Strobe lights fan over the sea of people you’re currently floating in, the smell of alcohol and the musk of sweat and cologne swarming you entirely. Music blared over loud speakers, rendering you practically deaf to your surroundings, and perhaps that was why you hadn’t noticed your ex-husband approach you from behind.

“Boo,” he purrs into your ear as he dips his head just enough for his deep voice to be heard, his large hand snaking around your waist to spin you around.

Your smile immediately falters upon seeing the white-haired man who seems to make it his life goal to ruin any ounce of fun that you have without him. “Sylus,” you deadpan.

“Why, excuse me,” he replies through a dark chuckle. “I had no idea we were going to be so brash. Had I known,” he raises his hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger, “I would have tugged on these pretty locks of yours to get your attention instead.”

You raise your hand to pull his hand away from your hair, and that’s the moment when he sees it.

(Your ring. He’d recognize it anywhere, of course, he had it designed just for you.)

Sylus takes your hand in his, brushing his thumb over the garnet jewel that you loved so much. “Hm. What’s this?”

You hate how easy it is for him to pick up on such minuscule details about you. It makes you feel flattered, which is absolutely disgusting. You don’t want to feel flattered, not by your ex-husband of all people.

“A ring,” you reply, sliding your hand from his grasp. “An accessory to my costume.”

Sylus shortly hums, his red eyes giving you a once over as he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Is it necessary to wear it on that finger in particular? You know the implications of such a thing.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s just a ring. It hardly means anything anymore.”

He bristles at that, raising a brow at you. It stung to hear, but he knew that you didn’t mean it. You knew how he was when it came to things of sentimental value—nothing ever lost its touch with him, especially when it came to you.

“Oh, how quickly you dismiss our love. Such a cruel woman you are,” he says, his voice dropping in octave as a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips.

“Cruel?” you repeat with a scoff. “Please.”

“Cruel indeed,” he insists, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he lures you closer to him. Perhaps he should have dressed as the vampire with his red, hypnotic eyes and all, but instead, he dressed as a boxer. “Although, I can’t say I dislike the idea of you parading around in my ring. Wards off the men.”

You can’t help snort at that. “Oh, right, because something as trivial as a ring would deter a man from a face as beautiful as this,” you muse, raising your hand to place a few smacks on his cheek. “In your dreams.”

Sylus chuckles at that. He truly should’ve known you and your sharp tongue wouldn’t be able to resist chuckling a few jabs his way. “I see you in my dreams as is, sweetie. I don’t need the sentiment.”

You scoff. “What you need to do is get a grip. I don’t know if you’ve lost your mind, but we are divorced. D-i-v-o-r-c-e-d. Divorced. Do you know what that means?”

That word hardly meant anything to him. He still wore his wedding ring and addressed you as his wife. He did it shamelessly.

“Such nasty words from such a pretty mouth,” he says through a sigh. “And no, I don’t know what that means. Pray tell.”

“It means that we leave each other alone,” you’re quick to reply. “I don’t want you anymore, Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t like that idea, not one bit. He doesn’t care if he sounds like a broken record, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone. Perhaps he enjoyed pestering you, watching as that cute expression of annoyance etched across your face every time you ran into one another.

“You’re so pretty when you lie,” he murmurs.

You shortly huff. “You’d be prettier if you knew how to shut up.”

Sylus feigns offense, placing his hand over his chest. “You wound me.”

But he does take notice of the fact that you hadn’t denied his words. If anything, it stirs something within him. He isn’t sure what it is exactly, and before he can figure it out, you’re already walking away.

“Sweetie—”

“Don’t call me that,” you reply. His call out to you doesn’t deter you from your path, and before long, you’re already swimming in a sea of men who look like they want to devour you.

Sylus can’t blame them for their incredibly good taste in women, but what he can blame them for is their attraction to his wife.

He tries to obey your wishes, and he leaves you alone for a good… seven and a half minutes. And yes, he’s been counting, because each second that passes where you give another man your undivided attention is a second that he wants cut off from his lifespan.

He does his best, truly, he does. He even sent Luke and Kieran to fetch him a drink. He’s… partying. Yay.

It’s no use, though. Nothing could ever distract him from your presence. Hearing your laugh from across the room is like music to his ears, his favorite song that he cannot bear to part with.

But suddenly, everything shifts.

You’re… holding hands with another man. Not just any hand either.

And when you turn to make eye contact with Sylus, he’s already well on his way to you by the time that bastard’s lips lean in to press a kiss on your left hand, just below his ring.

You’re thrown over his shoulder before you have a say in the matter, and his stiffened arm gets sent into the strange man’s chest. He hadn’t meant to push him very hard, but evidently, his jealousy piqued the moment his hand made contact with him.

“There you are, my gorgeous wife,” he quips, laying a playful smack on your ass.

“Jesus, Sylus! What the—” you exclaim, watching as the man you were talking to falls to the ground.

Before you know it, you’re being carried into the bathroom and spun around, your front facing the mirror while he presses against you from behind.

You really shouldn’t be turned on by this, but you honestly can’t help yourself.

“My, my, sweetie, I knew you were a liar, but I didn’t take you for a whore too,” he says, his voice low and almost rasped. “Nearly allowing another man to kiss the hand I’ve claimed? Tsk tsk.”

You roll your eyes at him, but that only earns you another smack on your ass. It was firmer that time, too.

“You know, you don’t have to have a dick measuring competition with every man I talk to all because of a ring,” you huff, planting your palms on the bathroom counter.

Sylus chuckles at that, his hands sliding over your hips before he splays his palm on the curve of your back, forcefully pushing you over the counter. “Please, you know there isn’t any competition there.”

You hate it when he’s right, and right now, he was definitely correct. You can feel the truth in all of his glory, the outline of his cock pressing against your backside through the fabric of his shorts as he keeps you bent over for him.

You grumble a low, “oh, fuck me,” that you thought went unheard, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“I never thought you’d ask,” he says, laying another smack on your reddening ass.

You narrow your eyes at him through the mirror. “You’re an asshole, Sylus.”

He hums, working to bunch your dress up around your hips to give him a nice view of your cherry red asscheek, and God, is it beautiful.

“I’m aware,” he says as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Such pretty panties. You know these are my favorite, you dirty woman.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he disappears from the mirror’s reflection, and before you can think it over, you feel your lace panties be pulled to the side.

Great. Now he knows you’re a wet mess. Just fucking great.

“You really have some nerve,” you scoff, though there’s hardly any bite to your words.

You feel his large hands spread your cheeks apart, and a gasp leaves you when you feel his tongue dart out to swipe along the crack of your ass.

“Oh, absolutely, know I do,” he murmurs, planting a kiss on your ass cheek. “The nerve I have.”

He dips his head a bit lower, and you’re honestly left stunned as he licks your pussy from behind. He moans into your cunt, bringing his fingers up to swipe along your sopping slit.

And when you glance over your shoulder, you see him suck his two fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widen in genuine surprise, and a huff of laughter leaves your lips.

“Don’t give me that look, baby,” he preens, giving your ass cheek another open-mouthed kiss before he spins you around. He then taps your thigh. “Lift.”

And you do just that, raising your thigh as he lifts you up onto the bathroom counter from his kneeling position on the floor. He drapes your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a kiss to your sensitive skin as he does so.

“You know, your mouth says the most horrible things to me, but your pussy seems to say the exact opposite,” he muses, licking his lips as he gazes up at you. “Always so pretty and wet for me. You sure you don’t want to apologi—”

“Nope,” you’re quick to say, sliding your fingers through his white hair as you push his face into your pussy. “Yeah, just shut up. Perfect.”

His words are swallowed up by your heat, but he doesn’t mind it, not one bit. He closes his eyes as he greedily laps at your cunt, tasting the sweetness that he’s missed far too much. It was so sweet, just like you usually were towards him, but it seems like he’ll have to fuck this attitude out of you before he can see that side of you again.

He doesn’t mind that. More of your smart mouth, more of your pussy… win-win.

By the time he opens his eyes to look up at you again, you can already tell that he’s drunk on you.

“God, you’re so easy, it’s disgusting,” you say through a whine as his tongue curls up and down, stimulating that beautiful pearl between your legs.

Sylus chuckles at that, but he doesn’t let up. His tongue begins to fuck into you now, a groan leaving his mouth as he watches you writhe above him. He’s never seen you look any more beautiful.

(The only exception to that was your wedding day, of course. He wept like a baby at the sight of you.)

He sucks harshly into your clit before he releases it with a pop. “I love it when you’re mean to me, baby. Makes me want to fuck you so nice, wipe that smug smile right off your face.”

It was true. His cock was rock solid in the confines of his shorts, and even if he wasn’t eating you out like a madman, he’s sure your words would have led to the same fate. He loved it when you dished it back to him because you were just so sexy when you were angry.

You’re quick to shut him up, pushing his face back into your heat, but this time, you’re fucking yourself on his tongue. He doesn’t mind it at all. If anything, he prefers it, because whatever his wife needs, she gets.

“Yeah,” you pant, your head leaning back against the mirror. “Yeah, stop fucking talking.”

Sylus grins against your heat as you make a mess of him—his nose, his mouth, his chin—everything. But he doesn’t give a damn.

He slurps up your slick, drinking it as if he were stranded in the middle of a blazing desert and your pussy was his only means of survival. Though if he were to be honest, he’d just ask you to sit on his face and suffocate him with this sweet cunt of yours if he ever found himself in that dire of a position.

(He’s already made up his mind—that’s how he wants to go out.)

Soon enough, he grasps firmly onto your hips, preventing you from grinding against his tongue.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” he says through a breathless smile, licking his lips. “Wearing your wedding ring, parading around in this beautifully slutty costume of yours, giving your attention to other men. What has gotten into you?”

You whine as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, but his words give you a much better idea. Your hand is quick to replace his tongue, stimulating your clit while he watches with starry eyes. “Dunno. You can get inside of me right now, though.”

He huffs. “Playing with this pretty pussy right in front of my face? Have some class.”

You can’t help but chuckle out loud, and he smiles at the sound of your laughter but also at the view of your fingers circling that swollen clit of yours.

“You can talk to me about class when you aren’t kneeling in front of your ex-wife’s pussy like a puppy begging for a treat,” you joke.

Sylus hums at that, spitting onto your cunt to give you a bit more lubricant as you play with yourself. Slowly, he rises to his feet.

“I don’t have to beg for this pussy, baby,” he tells you, “It’s mine, after all.”

“Mm, whatever. Me next.”

And when his eyes meet yours, a wicked grin stretches across his face. You stare at him with your mouth open, you tongue lolled out between your lips, begging for him to spit in your mouth.

“You’re filthy,” he rasps, grasping onto your jaw to tilt your head at the perfect angle before he spits into your mouth, watching with hazy eyes as you swallow it. “Absolutely nasty. You’re so beautiful, sweetie.”

His degrading and his praise are a dangerous mixture for you, but you’re loving every second of it. This reminds you of the good times you two shared, and you feel a surge of nostalgia wash over you.

Sylus taps the sides of your thighs, and you wrap them around his waist without question. He lifts you up from the bathroom counter, pressing you against the wall to allow himself better access to you.

His lips find your neck, and a string of mewls and sighs leave your lips as he works to free himself from the confines of his shorts. And when you feel the tip of his cock smear pre-cum along your slit, you honestly feel like you’re really in for it now.

Your smart tongue has gotten you here, and you aren’t sure if you should thank it or curse it. But when you feel the tip of his thick cock begin to prod your entrance, your answer is made clear.

You claw at his back through his shirt, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. “Sylus, wait— I… go slow please,” you stammer out.

It has been awhile, and you weren’t exactly used to his size anymore. He gives you a nod of understanding, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Of course, baby, I hear you,” he whispers, his voice suddenly much gentler. He hooks an arm beneath you as a means of holding you up while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “We don’t have to do this, honey. I don’t want to see you in pain.”

You shake your head, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “No, no… I want to. Just… slowly please.”

Sylus nods his head, pressing a sweet peck on your cheek as he slowly begins to push his cock deeper inside of you, keeping his eyes on your face to read your expression.

“I’m okay,” you say, answering the question that you know is swirling in his head right now.

He was a stretch, but it wasn’t too bad. And now as he slowly begins to build up a pace of thrusting inside of you, you’re feeling pleasure above anything.

He leans in to press another sweet kiss on your lips before he quickly returns to being the same asshole he was before, his smirk returning as he fucks you against the wall.

“You’re awfully bratty for someone who can hardly take my cock,” he purrs, trailing his lips along your jawline as he thrusts himself even harder inside of you.

The sound of slapping skin and your shared breathy moans engulf the room, and it’s the most lewd and beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“I can take it, you asshole,” you grumble, tugging on his hair as his length reaches a particular sensitive point of your walls.

He chuckles against your neck, drawing his tongue out to taste your skin. “Mm, I know, baby. You take it so nicely. Just giving you a hard time.”

You sigh, leaning your head back against the wall, only for one of his large hands to cup the back of your head. You thought it was sweet how he was bracing you from the impact of how hard he was slamming your body against the wall with each thrust.

You mewl as you feel the heat in your belly pooling, your glassy eyes staring at the reflection of you two in the mirror, watching with blown eyes as he fucks you into oblivion.

He buries his length into you, keeping you pressed against the wall that way while your leg lock around his hips keeps you stable. He grasps onto your left hand, pressing a kiss on your ring.

“Do me a favor, baby,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over the jewelry. “Never take this off again.”

And within seconds, you’re nodding. “I won’t.”

Sylus chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek as he begins to thrust inside of you again. “Who’s the easy one now, sweetie?”

This wasn’t how you expected your Halloween night to go, being fucked by your ex-husband in the bathroom of a party.

Well… this is what you get for being so sexy, you figure.

note. i was too lazy to think of some more banter between sylus and reader so i decided to give y’all the traditional ‘fade to black’… in the most untraditional sense. anyway!!! i tried something new with this and i’m not sure if it’s working for not so pls interact if you enjoyed! ik it was kinda nasty at some parts but hey… i had to do it to em. :3 TY FOR READING!!!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⟡ masterlist | request

#♥︎ tojicide #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus qin #sylus #lads sylus #sylus x y/n #sylus x you #l&ds sylus #sylus smut #love and deepspace #lads #love & deepspace

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headkiss · 5 months ago

Text

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

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casuallyanidiot · 4 months ago

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Yandere manager who was never gonna let you get famous.

Nsfw for this one! MDNI!

Warning for noncon/dubcon!

Yandere manager who holds a high position in a prestigious entertainment company. He works with so many prolific stars, so he's surprised that your pitiful little portfolio ever even made it to his desk. You've got no experience, no connections, and you're not exactly industry standard in terms of beauty.

Yandere manager thinks it's kind of funny that a cute little thing like you thinks they can make it in such a cutthroat industry. he's kinda curious about what you're like though, so he calls you in for an interview. He can't help his large, sleazy grin that forms on his face when you sit there in his office stuttering through an introduction.

Sure he'll hire you, but you've gotta get on your knees.

Yandere manager feels a sick thrill run up his spine as he goes over contract details while your pretty little lips are spread around his cock. Your eyes are filled with tears, and he can feel your little whines and sobs vibrate in the back of your throat, and he groans. He has to admit it, you've got that special something about you that certainly has him captivated.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a deal, sweetie," He grunts out playfully and signs his name as he forces your head down further and came down your throat.

Yandere Manager who only books you for enough gigs for you to justify staying with him. He makes you fuck him whenever he asks, and whenever you want an actual job, you have to do something more extreme to get it. A modeling gig? Yeah sure babe. You've just got to dress super slutty and let him take you in the middle of a crowded club.

Yandere Manager who rails you violently whenever he catches you trying to network. He bets you think you're so smart and clever for chatting up some pervy, old director to get a spot in a music video. Does he not give you enough? You don't need all that attention unless he's giving it to you. You don't even know how many people are gonna wanna bury themselves in that tight little hole of yours, how many people would take advantage of you. At least with him, you knew what you were getting.

You're fucked so thoroughly, and Yandere manager loves watching you stumble around after he's stuffed you full of cum. He's started making you wear plugs afterwards just so he can watch the discomfort on your face as he takes you out shopping or for meals.

Yandere manager starts to feel a bit fond of you in not just a carnal way. As much as he loves seeing your cute little asshole twitch and stretch around the toys he pushes in you, he also likes seeing you smile, hearing you laugh. He likes the way your eyes light up when he allows you to do a photo shoot. He starts liking the way you shudder and squeal when you orgasm, too.

He's not a sappy guy by any means. Really, he sucks. Even he knows that, but maybe now that you've got his initials tattooed on your plump, well spanked ass cheeks, he can start making you like him too.

He's gross, and he knows it. But he loves fucking you so much he can't find it in himself to care. I mean you're not going to get away when he's got you coming back to him with the promise of success that he's never ever gonna let you have. Not for the risk of his favorite, cute little fucktoy leaving him.

#my writing #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #x reader #tw yandere #yandere male #fanfic writing #my ocs #yandere manager

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hemmingsleclerc · 10 months ago

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My Husband ┃CS55

summary: Y/N attends her husband's home race but didn't expect to find the "popular" girl of her high school back in the day.

The sun was seen over the Barcelona-Catalunya Circuit while the Spanish Grand Prix was taking place. Y/N, dressed in an elegant yet casual dress that perfectly combined glamor and comfort, strolled through the paddock with an air of confidence. Her husband, Carlos, was focused on preparations for the next race, leaving her free to immerse herself in the exciting atmosphere.

As she toured the different garages and hospitality areas, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of nostalgia. The roar of the engines brought back memories of her teenager's years when she would never have imagined being there in the paddock. Yet here she was, the wife of one of the sport's most talented drivers.

The familiar murmur of voices interrupted her thoughts and she turned to see a group of people approaching her. Among them was a face from her past: a girl named Carla, who was once the queen bee of her high school. Carla's eyes widened in false surprise when she saw Y/N there.

"Well, well, if it's not little Y/N," Carla sneered, her tone full of mockery. "What brings you to the Spanish Grand Prix? Trying to catch a glimpse of the rich and famous?"

Y/N smiled, refusing to let Carla's comments get to her. "Oh, you know, I've always been an F1 fan. I thought I'd come and support my husband."

''Husband?, so after all you did get a boyfriend?, what a wonderful surprise!''

''Yes, yes I did Carla'' Y/N responded, avoiding the urge to roll her eyes.

Carla smiled and looked at her boyfriend, who was next to her. "Well, we're here because my boyfriend is a big fan. You probably know him, he was with us at school! In fact, today he met all the drivers. It's a dream come true for him."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, recognizing the familiar pattern of Carla trying to outdo her in any situation. "That's fantastic for him. I'm sure meeting the drivers was an unforgettable experience."

''So, is this your first race?''

''In fact no, I have attended several grand prix, although it's probably your first time, so enjoy it Carla!'' And just as she finished saying those words she turned around and walked away from that irritating situation.

The race came to life and Y/N continued to enjoy the event, doing her best to ignore the presence of her ''wonderful'' former high school classmates.

As the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race, Y/N once again found herself in the path of Carla and her boyfriend.

"Well, well, you again” Carla said with a forced smile. "Did you have fun watching the race, sweetie?"

Y/N sighed inwardly but maintained her composure. "Yes, it was thrilling. Excuse me, I need to find Carlos."

As she tried to walk away, Carla's boyfriend, Y/N's old crush from high school, stepped forward, trying to strike up a conversation with her. Y/N felt a wave of discomfort but remained polite. All she wanted to do was go to her husband and congratulate him on his incredible podium finish in the race.

Suddenly, the crowd around them buzzed with excitement as Carlos Sainz approached, his red racing suit adorned with sponsor logos. Carla and her boyfriend exchanged surprised glances.

"Carlos Sainz!" Carla exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Y/N couldn't help but smile triumphantly. "Oh, I didn't mention it before? He's Carlos, my husband, sweetie."

Carlos, oblivious to the tension, politely greeted Carla and her boyfriend. When they noticed, Carla's forced smile faltered and Y/N took the opportunity to gracefully exit the conversation. She walked away from her, leaving behind a speechless Carla and a bewildered old lover.

''Thank God you showed up, I couldn't stand them for another minute''

''You okey mi amor?''

''I'll be better after the celebration for your great podium, cariño''

With their heads held high, Y/N and Carlos walked out holding hands, along with the shiny trophy, ready to have a great night.

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yuvany · 3 months ago

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COUNTING SHEEP

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when you feel exhausted

OT7 enhypen x fem!reader . . . CONTENT / WARNING(S) : fluff + skinship + kisses + petnames + est relationship . . WORD COUNT : 848 . CHECK BOX !!

福 > LIKED THIS ? — " ENHYPEN BEING TIRED "

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

You were so tired that you didn't even want to wait until you reached somewhere more comfortable to sleep rather than the cool floor. You didn't mind, but Heeseung did. He walks into the corridor and saw you curled up on the floor with your legs tucked to your chest. He has a questioned look on his face and hunches down. Heeseung figures that you won't wake up, and lifts you into his arms to carry you to the bedroom to get a proper sleep. You wake up mid-way and Heeseung asks, "Is my princess finally awake?" You don't respond, but only rubs your eyes. "I must say that you did look comfortable." He chuckles and you kiss him on the cheek.

( rest of the members under the cut ! )

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Nothing worries Jay more than seeing you knocked out from exhaustion. He had seen you step foot into the house and taken a seat on the couch not too long ago, and now, you were out like a light. Jay figured that he could help you out and runs over to your room to grab your blanket and returns quickly to throw it over your limp body, being extremely careful not to wake you up on accident. Then he walks into the kitchen and prepares tea leaves while the water is boiling. After a while, he returns with a hot cup of tea and places it on the coffee table for when you wake up. He leans over and whispers, "Sweet dreams, my love."

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Sees your head hovering over your desk with papers scattered everywhere. Jake curiously peeks from the bed and sees that you aren't writing anything and just exhales loudly. "Babe, what's up?" Jake asks, his voice seeming to smooth everything for a second. You groan and stretch your back. "I've been reading this over and over, but I can't seem to comprehend what it's saying." You complain. Jake jumps out of bed and rests his head on yoru shoulder as he looks at the paper. "How about we do it together, so you can sleep faster?" You nod at his idea and in return he kisses you on the cheek.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

Raises an eyebrow at the sight of your tired state, you notice this and raise your own. "What happened to you, sweetie?" He asks, opening his arms for you to walk into. "Wow, thank you." You reply sarcastically. Not accepting his hug. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Talk to me, pretty girl." Sunghoon says, lightly wrapping his arms around your shoudlers. You hug him and sigh into his chest. "Been a rough day at work, love." You say, feeling his palm run up and down your spine. "Let's get you changed and you can tell me all about it." Sunghoon slowly guides you to the bathroom.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo woke up in the middle of the night, wanting to go get himself a glass of water, but when he stumbles into the kitchen he sees you sitting there in front of your open laptop. "Sweetheart? What are you doing up so late?" He asks, his voice sounding huskier than you recognise. "I just remembered I needed to finish this." You say and show him what's on your laptop screen. "It's late though, can't you do this tomorrow?" He asks, his fingers finding your scalp to massage. "But I really need to." You say, but he suts you off and says, "You also need sleep, and I'm in need of cuddles anyway." He pulls you out of your seat and you give in with a sigh.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"I'm so tired, won.." you mumble into his chest, the movie not being in your interest any more. Jungwon draws circles on your shoulder and kisses your temples. "Then we can go to sleep, angel." You hum stubbornly and shake your head. "No need, I can go to bed while you finish this movie." You explain, rubbing your eyes. Jungwon in turn shakes his head too. "It's either both of us, or none, babe." You sigh, feeling bad for him in this situation since you knew how much he wanted to see this film. "I'm not that tired any more," you lied, and he senses this, so he pulls the blanket over the two of you, and snuggles close to you with a smile. "Now it's sorted!"

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You sat beside him while he was playing a video game, and throughout the time you spent together, your head would bump against his shoulder a couple of times due to the long day you already had and the dark setting illuminated by the soft lights of the television screen. Having your boyfriend beside you didn't change much of the fact either. At one point, you dozed off, and Riki hadn't realised it until you started to softly snore. He turned his head and was ready to say something until he saw your tired figure. He smiles to himself and helps you into a more comfortable position before turning off the game and cuddling close to you.

─── ꒰ 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗬𝗨𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗬 ꒱

[ consider reblogging and liking this post if you enjoyed it !! I hope you liked this just as much as I did ^3^ ]

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d-z20 · 1 month ago

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Neighbourly Care part 4 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go over to Agatha and Rio's for help with your Spanish class and they do help but you also get taught another lesson

-OR-

Agatha fuck you in their home office (while you practice Spanish with Rio) and when you make a mistake she stops fucking you until you get it right.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Mommy Agatha, Daddy Rio, more smut, orgasm denial (Rio), squirting, praise, slight degredation, strap on use, even more smut

Words: 4.6k and 80% is you getting fucked

A/N: This one's for all you burnt out gifted kids out there. Also, my Spanish really isn't very good, especially when I'm writing gn!Reader in a gendered language 💀 I'm sorry if it's jarring.

It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and you’re sitting cross-legged on your bed, a growing sense of frustration gnawing at you as you stare down at your Spanish assignment. Your sweatpants are cosy and your cropped vest keeps you cool, but none of it is helping you figure out why this language feels so impossible to grasp.

Your workbook lies open next to your laptop, half-hearted notes scrawled across the page. The conjugation charts mock you, the verbs swimming together into an indecipherable mess. You sigh, running a hand through your hair before grabbing your phone and opening up the messages.

MILFs Anonymous

~13:26

You: any chance i can come over for some help? 😩

You stare at the screen, gnawing at your bottom lip as you wait for a response. It doesn’t take long.

Agatha: Try again, darling.

You: uhhh

~13:28

You: Necesito ayuda con mi español. ¿Puedo ir a vuestra casa, por favor?

Rio: Claro que sí, cariño :)

Agatha: You used Google Translate, didn’t you?

You: Sí 😁

Agatha: We’ll be back from shopping around 4—come over then.

The messages bring a small smile to your face, despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You can already hear Rio’s warm, teasing tone in the words and Agatha’s steadier, more composed presence offering quiet reassurance.

Your mind drifts back to Thanksgiving dinner. You’d mentioned, almost as a throwaway comment, that you were struggling in your Introduction to Spanish class. It had been enough to spark Rio’s interest—her eyes lighting up as she eagerly offered to tutor you. Her enthusiasm had been impossible to resist, especially when paired with Agatha’s wholehearted support.

“You’re welcome over anytime,” Agatha had said, her voice kind but with an edge of finality that left no room for argument. “You’ll get the help you need.”

And now, here you were, agreeing to yet another visit, the prospect of being in their presence again already making your skin tingle.

The clock ticks on as you attempt to focus on your workbook, but your thoughts keep drifting back to the two of them. You wonder what kind of "lesson" Rio has in mind and whether Agatha will be there to offer her own... unique form of support.

—

When the clock finally strikes 4, you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder, calling out as you head for the door.

“I’m going over to Agatha and Rio’s!”

Your mom’s voice floats in from the kitchen. “Okay, sweetie! Your dad and I are out with Aunt Carol for dinner, so we might not see you when you get back. Make sure you thank them for all their help!”

“Will do!” you reply, slipping out the door and walking the short distance to their house.

Your heart pounds as you approach the door, excitement and nerves intertwining. Before you can knock, the door swings open, and Rio stands there, her eyes lighting up as she sees you.

“Right on time,” she says, her voice a little higher-pitched than usual. She looks slightly flustered, a flush on her cheeks as she waves you inside. “Come in, come in.”

You step through the threshold, noting how Rio shifts on her feet like she’s barely holding still. She gestures toward the hallway, motioning you ahead of her.

“Agatha’s in the office,” she says, her words rushed. Her lips twitch into a quick smile as she guides you down the hall.

The office door is already open, and Agatha’s presence is immediately noticeable. She’s reclining on a sleek leather couch, looking effortlessly casual in a soft rust-coloured jacket and a white top. Her hair falls in loose waves around her shoulders, and there’s a small smile on her face as she watches you enter.

“Perfect timing,” she says warmly, her tone smooth.

Rio closes the door behind the two of you, crossing the room to sit at her desk opposite Agatha’s. She moves quickly but jumps slightly when she sits, her hand gripping the edge of her desk for a moment as she adjusts herself in the chair. Her cheeks are still tinged pink, and you can’t help but notice the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding into the chair at Agatha’s desk.

“Fine!” Rio chirps, her smile a little too wide. “Let’s get started, yeah? Verb conjugations—your favourite.”

She flips open her own notebook, launching into a rapid explanation of present-tense endings. You do your best to focus, but something about her energy feels off. Her breath catches occasionally as she talks, and her legs bounce slightly under the desk.

Behind you, Agatha doesn’t say a word. You can feel her eyes on the two of you; her calm, steady presence is a stark contrast to Rio’s restlessness. When you glance back at her, she’s lounging like a queen, one arm draped over the back of the couch, her lips quirked in a knowing smile.

Rio’s voice quivers slightly as she explains another verb conjugation, her hands fidgeting with her notebook as though it’s the only thing tethering her to the moment. You do your best to follow along, but the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Alright,” Rio says, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. “So for nosotros, hablar becomes—”

“They deserve a break,” Agatha cuts in smoothly, her voice like honey.

Rio immediately stops talking, her eyes darting nervously toward Agatha, who is now sitting forward slightly, her hand resting on her knee. She pats her lap, her lips curling into a gentle yet commanding smile as her gaze lands on you.

“Come here, sweetheart,” she says softly, the words sounding so innocuous yet carrying an undeniable weight.

You hesitate for a moment before standing, your heart thudding in your chest as you cross the short distance to her. Agatha’s hands immediately find your waist, guiding you to sit sideways in her lap. She wraps her arms around you, holding you close as she presses a kiss to your temple.

“Much better,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your skin.

Behind you, Rio shifts in her seat again, her breath hitching audibly. A quiet whimper escapes her, and you glance back to see her biting her bottom lip, her fingers gripping the edge of her desk like she’s barely keeping herself together.

Agatha notices too, of course. Her sharp eyes miss nothing. “Continúa mi amor,” she speaks to Rio, her voice low and lilting.

Rio blinks rapidly, her cheeks flushing even darker as she nods. “Sí, mi vida.”

She fumbles with her notebook again, launching into another explanation about verb conjugations, but her words are stilted, her voice trembling slightly.

Agatha’s hand rests innocently on your thigh at first, her fingers lightly tracing small circles through the fabric of your sweatpants. You try to focus on what Rio is saying, but the warmth of Agatha’s touch is distracting. The circles grow larger, her fingers inching higher with every pass, and soon you feel her hand creeping up toward the apex of your thighs.

Your breath hitches, and you glance up at her. “What are you doing?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha smiles down at you, her expression sweet but laced with something far more mischievous. “Teaching you a lesson,” she replies smoothly, her tone teasing. “I haven’t forgotten about yours and Rio’s little escapade in the hotel room that morning.”

Your eyes widen in realisation, and as you shift slightly in her lap, you catch a glimpse of her phone resting on the arm of the couch. The app open on the screen makes your stomach flip—it’s the controls for a long-distance vibrator. You glance at Rio, who is squirming more noticeably now, her breath coming in shallow pants as her eyes dart between you and her notebook.

“Rio is going to learn to keep her hands to herself,” Agatha continues, her voice low and steady. “And you, sweetheart, are going to learn to control yourself.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you swallow hard as she gives you a gentle nudge. “Stand up,” she commands softly.

You obey, your legs shaky as you rise to your feet. Agatha’s hands find the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers tugging them down with deliberate slowness until they pool at your ankles.

“Mmm, such a good pet,” she hums, her praise making your cheeks heat as you step out of the fabric and sit back down on her lap.

This time, she adjusts your position, guiding you so that you’re sitting more squarely in the middle of her lap. As you settle, you feel something hard pressing against you through her pants, and your breath catches in your throat.

“Now,” Agatha says, her tone deceptively calm as she leans back slightly, one arm draped possessively around your waist. “Let’s see if you and Daddy can do as you’re told.”

You swallow hard, nodding as you try to focus on Rio, who looks just as flustered as you feel. Her cheeks are tinged pink, and she avoids looking directly at Agatha’s hand, which rests high on your thigh. Rio clears her throat, her voice trembling slightly as she continues.

“¿Cómo se dice... they speak... en español?” She asks, gripping her pen tightly.

“Ellos hablan,” you manage to reply, though your voice wavers when Agatha’s hand starts to move. Her fingers trail lazily up your inner thigh, barely brushing the fabric of your underwear.

“Muy bien, cariño,” Agatha murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear. “But don’t lose focus now. Keep going.”

Rio nods quickly, her words spilling out in a rush. “Y... y cómo se dice... we are speaking?”

You open your mouth to answer, but it’s hard to form a coherent thought when Agatha’s fingers are now teasing the edge of your underwear; her touch so light it sends shivers up your spine. Your hips shift involuntarily when her fingers dip below the fabric, and Agatha hums in approval, her grip tightening around your waist to hold you still.

“Estamos hablando,” you finally gasp, the words barely audible as Agatha’s fingers press more firmly against you.

“Perfecto,” Agatha purrs, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “But you’re trembling, sweetheart. Are you sure you’re concentrating?”

Rio looks like she’s about to combust, her leg bouncing under the desk as she stumbles over her next question. “¿Cómo se dice... uh... you are speaking?”

You try to respond, but your voice falters when Agatha’s fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. A soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

“Focus,” Agatha whispers, though her actions are anything but helpful. “Vamos, nena. Dime la respuesta.”

You choke out, “Tú estás hablando,” but your voice is barely steady. Rio squirms in her chair, her breathing uneven, and her gaze flickers to Agatha’s hand for the briefest second before she looks away again, biting her lip.

“Very good,” Agatha praises, her voice sending a thrill through you. Then she taps your hip, her fingers stilling for a moment. “Lift up for me, sweetheart.”

You hesitate, glancing at her, but the look in her eyes leaves no room for argument. You rise slightly, your legs trembling, and she reaches into her waistband, pulling something out—a purple strap larger than the one she used on you before. She pulls your underwear to the side before guiding you back down onto her lap.

The moment you’re seated again, you can feel it—hard and unyielding—pressing deeply inside you. Your breath catches at the sudden, overwhelming sensation, and Agatha smirks, her hands settling firmly on your hips to hold you still, ensuring you feel every inch. The pressure against your walls is unrelenting, a heady mix of pleasure and control that sends sparks shooting up your spine. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, each shallow breath catching as heat pools low in your belly, threatening to consume you entirely.

“Now,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry, “let’s see if you can finish your lesson without completely falling apart. “Adelante, Río, y no seas fácil con les.”

Rio’s throat bobs as she swallows hard, her wide eyes betraying the tension coiling in her body. Her voice is barely a whisper as she continues. “¿Cómo se dice... we spoke?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Agatha’s hands begin to guide your hips in slow, deliberate movements, each motion sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. The friction is maddening, stealing the air from your lungs as a soft whimper escapes your lips. Your pulse thrums in your ears, and your thighs quiver, every nerve alight with sensation as you struggle to keep your focus, the words slipping through your mind like water through a sieve.

“Ha-habla…mos,” you stammer, but your voice is shaky and breathless.

Agatha chuckles softly, her lips brushing against your neck. “Otra vez,” she says, her tone carrying a hint of mockery. “Try again, sweetheart. Say it louder. Let Daddy hear you.”

Across from you, Rio is barely holding it together. She rocks faintly in her chair, her thighs pressing together as if seeking relief. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, and her free hand grips the desk so hard it looks like she might snap the wood in half. Her breath comes in uneven gasps; a small whimper escapes her as she fights to maintain her composure.

“Vamos,” Agatha whispers, her breath warm against your ear as she tightens her grip on your hips, helping you grind down harder against her. The tension inside you builds with every slow, deliberate movement, your body instinctively chasing the friction. A soft, needy sound escapes you, and you shiver as her voice washes over you, low and commanding, grounding you even as she unravels you. “No te distraigas.”

You let out a shaky moan, your head falling back against her shoulder as the sensations threaten to overwhelm you. Your heart pounds, your skin is flushed and hypersensitive, and every touch feels amplified, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Words hover on the tip of your tongue, but they dissolve into broken gasps before you can speak.

Just as your eyes flutter shut, lost in the haze of it all, Agatha reaches for her phone with one hand, tapping the screen.

“Ughhhh, Aggie, no,” Rio whines frustratedly, her body jerking slightly at the sudden loss of sensation. She glares at Agatha, who raises a single brow in amusement.

“No tan rápida mi vida,” Agatha says smoothly, her voice dripping with authority. “You’ll wait until I say so.”

Rio bites her lip, her cheeks flushed, and you can feel the tension in the room thickening.

But you don’t have time to dwell on it—Agatha’s movements beneath you are maddening, each shift sending a spark of pleasure through you that makes coherent thought nearly impossible. Her hips tilt upward slightly with each slow, deliberate thrust, the firm pressure pushing you closer to the edge with every pass. It’s intoxicating, the way her body presses into you, filling you with a deep ache that you can’t escape. You try to answer the next question Rio poses, but the words come out in a garbled mess, your focus completely shattered.

Agatha clicks her tongue disapprovingly and stills your hips with a firm grip. The sudden lack of motion leaves you aching, your thighs trembling as you try to shift for relief, but her hold on you is unyielding. The throbbing heat between your legs grows unbearable, each second of stillness stretching endlessly. The whimper of frustration that escapes you only earns you a soft mocking chuckle.

“¿Qué dije sobre enfocar?” She scolds, her voice low and commanding. “Answer Daddy, or we stop right here.”

Your face burns with embarrassment as you force yourself to focus, stumbling over the words as you manage to form a proper sentence. Agatha hums in approval, but she doesn’t let you move again just yet.

“Good,” she murmurs, her hand sliding up your side in a soothing gesture. “See? You can behave when you try.”

She waits until Rio asks the next question before finally resuming her movements. This time, her hips push up into you more deliberately, slow and measured, as if testing your resolve. Each thrust presses into the perfect spot, a deliberate rhythm that makes your breath catch and your knees tremble. It’s almost cruel how slowly she moves, dragging out every sensation until you’re teetering on the brink.

Rio’s eyes widen, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She clears her throat and stammers out the next question, her voice barely above a whisper. “¿Cómo se dice... they danced?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Agatha’s hands start guiding your hips again, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that has you clenching your teeth to stifle a moan. The friction is maddening, each grind of her hips sending shockwaves through your body that leave you gasping for air. You feel impossibly full, the steady motion of her beneath you making your head spin as heat coils tighter in your core.

“I—I don’t—” you start, but the words dissolve into a whimper as Agatha’s fingers slip under the hem of your cropped vest, brushing against your nipple.

“Don’t stop now,” Agatha murmurs, her voice like velvet. “You can do it, baby. Say it.”

Your answer is a garbled mess, barely comprehensible as you fight to stay coherent. The thrusts beneath you grow slightly firmer, and she pinches your nipple, drawing a broken cry from your lips. The steady pressure and her soft words blur together, leaving you utterly at her mercy.

Across from you, Rio is trembling, her fists clenched at her sides as she rocks forward slightly in her desperation. She bites her lip, her cheeks flushed as she tries to keep her composure, though her glazed-over expression betrays her struggle.

Agatha notices immediately. Her sharp eyes flick to Rio, and her lips curl into a dangerous smile. “¿Qué crees que estás haciendo, amor?” she says, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Stand up. Legs apart.”

Rio hesitates for a moment before obeying, her movements stiff and jerky. She stands with her legs spread slightly, her hands clenched into fists as she tries to keep still under Agatha’s watchful gaze. The air between the three of you feels electric, charged with an intensity that makes your skin prickle.

“Good,” Agatha says approvingly. Her focus returns to you, and her tone softens. “Now, let’s finish this lesson with one more question.”

Rio swallows hard, her voice shaking as she asks, “¿Cómo se dice... we ate?”

Your mind is a haze of pleasure and tension, the words slipping from your grasp as you struggle to focus. Each deliberate thrust from Agatha beneath you sends fresh waves of heat through your body, clouding your thoughts and making it nearly impossible to form words. Your hips instinctively try to grind against her, desperate for more, but her firm hands keep you in place, controlling every movement.

“Co-com—” you stutter, but you can’t get the syllables out.

Agatha stills your movements suddenly, her grip on your hips tightening as she tilts your head to meet her gaze. The abrupt stop leaves you trembling, every nerve screaming for relief as the tension in your body builds to unbearable levels

“No te distraigas,” she scolds gently, her expression calm but firm. “Answer Daddy. Now.”

The commanding tone snaps you back into focus, and with a shaky breath, you finally manage to stammer out, “C-comimos.”

Agatha’s lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Well done,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then her hands slide back down to your hips, and she resumes the slow, deliberate rhythm that has you gasping for air. This time, her thrusts are more purposeful, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. Your vision blurs, your body trembling uncontrollably as you give in to the sensation.

“You’ve done good enough, sweetheart. No more questions. Now it’s time for you to enjoy yourself.”

Her attention shifts briefly to Rio, who looks like she’s about to unravel completely. “You,” Agatha says sharply, her tone brooking no argument, “will stay exactly where you are. Don’t move. Just watch.”

Rio’s breath hitches, her body trembling as she nods, her eyes fixed on the two of you. Her gaze feels like fire on your skin, but you’re too far gone to care, completely lost in the steady rhythm of Agatha’s movements and the way she keeps pushing you closer, her voice a soft murmur in your ear as you come undone.

Agatha’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to anchor you to her. The slow, deliberate thrusts beneath you become a little harder, a little deeper, and the sensation sends shockwaves through your body. Each motion builds the pressure inside you, pushing you closer and closer to a breaking point that feels just out of reach.

“Such a good little slut,” Agatha murmurs in your ear, her voice a molten whisper that makes your toes curl. “You’ve been so good, finally learning some control.” Her lips brush against the curve of your neck, and her teeth graze your skin ever so lightly. “I want you to fall apart for me. Completely.”

Your body arches against her as she begins moving you faster, her hips meeting yours with a precision that’s almost too much to handle. The heat pooling low in your belly threatens to consume you, each thrust sending sparks shooting up your spine. You can’t hold back the moans spilling from your lips anymore, the sounds filling the room alongside Rio’s uneven breaths.

One of Agatha’s hands slips between your legs, her fingers circling your throbbing clit as her other holds you steady. “That’s it,” she coos, her tone laced with both encouragement and command. “Cum for me, darling. Let it take you over.”

Her voice, her touch, her presence—it’s all too much. The tension that has been winding tighter and tighter finally snaps, and the release crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body trembles as the pleasure surges through you, every nerve alight as you cry out, the sound raw and unrestrained. The slick evidence of your release soaks into the fabric of Agatha’s pants, sdrenching her completely and leaving a visible mess against her thighs. She doesn’t seem to care—if anything, it only makes her smirk widen, a flicker of pride in her darkened gaze.

Agatha doesn’t let up, guiding you through every second of it, her hands and movements steady even as your body shakes with the force of your climax. She whispers soft praises in your ear, grounding you as the intensity leaves you breathless and utterly undone. “Look at the mess you’ve made,” she chuckles, her tone almost teasing as her fingers trail lazily over the damp fabric. “Such a good little thing for Mommy.” Her lips brush against your temple as she slows her movements, her hands now soothing rather than controlling. “So perfect. I knew you could do it.”

You slump against her, utterly spent, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her arms wrap around you securely, holding you close as you come down from the overwhelming high. For a moment, the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing and Rio’s soft, stifled whimpers from where she stands frozen, obediently still but visibly affected.

Agatha strokes your hair, her voice a gentle murmur against your ear. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” Her lips press against your forehead.

You let yourself melt into her, your body boneless and your mind hazy with satisfaction. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register Rio’s quiet, needy sigh, but Agatha’s warmth and the steady rhythm of her breathing lull you into a calm, contented state.

She slips out of you and holds you tight, her hands brushing soothing circles over your back as she presses gentle kisses to your temple. When she finally moves again, it’s to slip one strong arm beneath your legs and the other around your back, effortlessly lifting you into her arms. You can’t help but sigh and rest your head against her shoulder, utterly spent but feeling safe in her hold.

As she carries you toward the bathroom, her voice cuts through the stillness, firm but not unkind. “Rio, my love, go order us something for dinner—whatever you want.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and Rio, still flushed and squirming with pent-up frustration, lets out a soft, frustrated sigh before nodding obediently.

“Fine,” Rio mutters, her voice tinged with both respect and disappointment. You catch the faintest hint of a pout as she heads toward the kitchen, her steps slow and reluctant.

The bathroom is dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm light over the tiles. Agatha sets you down carefully on the edge of the tub, steadying you as she kneels to turn on the taps, adjusting the water until it’s just right. As the tub fills, she helps you undress; her touches gentle but reverent, as though she’s still savouring every inch of you even in this quiet, intimate moment. When she lifts you into the water, you can’t help but let out a contented sigh as the heat soothes your tired muscles.

Agatha slides in behind you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you back against her chest. The steady rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of the water lull you into a peaceful haze, her presence grounding you completely. She holds you close, her chin resting on your shoulder as her fingers trace lazy patterns along your arms.

“You were so good for me tonight,” she whispers softly, her voice low and soothing. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” Her lips brush against your temple, and you lean into her touch, the quiet intimacy of the moment filling your chest with warmth.

After the bath, Agatha wraps you in a plush towel, her hands steady as she dries you off, and helps you into a fresh set of clothes. By the time you return to the living room, Rio has returned with bags of takeout, her flushed cheeks, and the subtle shift of her legs betraying her discomfort. Agatha smirks knowingly but doesn’t say a word as she settles you onto the couch, pulling you snugly against her side.

The three of you share the meal together; the atmosphere warm and comfortable despite Rio’s occasional squirming. She shoots Agatha a few pleading looks, but Agatha only raises an eyebrow in silent challenge, her arm tightening around you possessively.

“Eat,” Agatha says calmly, gesturing to Rio’s plate. “You’ll get what you need—just not tonight.”

Rio huffs softly but obeys, though her fidgeting doesn’t let up. You curl further into Agatha’s side, feeling utterly content as the soft hum of conversation and the flicker of the TV fill the room. It’s a quiet, peaceful end to a long, intense evening, and as you drift closer to sleep, you can’t help but feel grateful for the comfort of the two people by your side.

READ THE NEXT PART

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y'all already know what I'm gonna say... please reblog and comment if you enjoyed. I love reading what you have to say about it, it really makes my day <3

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