#(absolutely in love with how much he wants to drive. always.)

[rindreamery]

out of breath, got me going like...

attractive things that the blue lock men do.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[dcrhae]

HAECHAN SHY!GF! DRABBLE

parings: bf!haechan x shy!gf!reader

warnings: smut. established relationship, kissing, riding, cockwarming, unprotected sex

wc: 0.6k

~ MDNI 18+ ~

You and Haechan were cuddling, with both of your arms wrapped tightly around him while his hands rested firmly on your waist. Your face would be pressed against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat would start to soothe you.

But then, you feel something hard beneath you. Instinctively, you begin to grind in his lap, drawing a low groan of pleasure from him. He throws his head back, his voice thick with desire as he whispers

“F-fuck baby, you drive me crazy when you do that.”

His hands slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his touch firm and possessive.

"Especially when you look all cute and shy for me. It's adorable," he adds with a teasing smirk.

He presses a kiss to your cheek, and butterflies instantly erupt in your stomach. No matter how many times he flusters you, you can't deny the way it turns you on even more.

"T-this is so embarrassing…" you stammered, your cheeks flushed with heat. He gave you a passionate kiss on the lips to reassure you.

"Don't feel embarrassed, love. You're absolutely amazing," he whispered against your lips, his voice soft yet teasing. "I always tell you not to be shy around me. But I think we've done enough talking... I need to be inside of you so bad right now."

He wasted no time, pushing his joggers down to his ankles, revealing his hard length. Of course, he wasn't wearing boxers. You were dressed in nothing but his t-shirt and a pair of panties. Hooking your finger beneath the fabric, you pulled your panties to the side and slowly lowered yourself onto him. The moment his length filled you, both of you let out a moan of pure pleasure. Your wet heat wrapped around him perfectly, making him groan in satisfaction.

You started bouncing on his lap, soft whimpers spilling from your lips as you clung to him. Realizing the position you were in again, you buried your face in his chest, clinging to his shirt. The intoxicating scent of his cologne filled your senses, driving you wild.

Noticing your shyness, he smirked, his hands gripping your hips firmly. Taking control, he began thrusting up into you, his pace rough and unrelenting. The sudden intensity pulled a loud scream from your throat, and he chuckled lowly.

"Aww, am I being too rough with you, sweetie? Do you want me to slow down?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful dominance.

"N-no, please don't stop... I need you so bad-f-fuck," you whimpered, your body trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge.

He absolutely loved seeing you become such a mess for him. He loved how much control he had over you in this moment. He started to pick up the pace and wrapped both arms around your waist, plunging himself deeper into your folds. The rougher he went, the tighter your grip became on his shirt.

Both of you were close to the edge, and he began peppering kisses along the nape of your neck, trailing up to your face.

"Mhm, are you close, baby?" he whispers against your skin.

All you could do was nod, and with that, both of you reached your limit and finished at the same time, waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies. He kissed your forehead softly, and you cuddled closer to him, your warmth still wrapped around him.

"I wish I wasn't so shy around you," you mumbled.

He gave you one last kiss on the lips and smiled. "Like i've said before, baby, you don't have to be nervous around me. I want you to feel satisfied and comfortable, which, clearly, you are, since I’m still inside of you."

You playfully punched his chest.

"Hey!"

He chuckled, pulling you closer, and the two of you cuddled for the rest of the night until you both drifted off to sleep.

God, the things l'd do to be able to sit on Haechan's lap to cuddle and ride him…

[lizzieolseniskinda]

LOGAN HOWLETT - furrgiveness

x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: a furry animal gets your plans cancelled.

WORD COUNT: ?

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: english is not my first language and i absolutely hate this

it was a friday night at the mansion, and it was unnervingly quiet for a school. logan leaned against his doorframe, and stared at the clock, waiting for you but you never came. the two of you had planned to grab a drink at his favorite bar - nothing fancy, but it was at least something. something you both enjoyed.

except, you once again, cancelled. no reason or explanation, just a short, “sorry, can’t make it tonight.” and with that you were gone.

this was the third time that week. heck, the seventh time in two weeks that you'd bailed and logan started to notice a pattern. you weren't just ditching him, jean, storm, even scott had mentioned your sudden disappearances. but logan took it a little more personally. you didn't have to spend every waking minute with him, but the lack of explanation? that ate him from the inside out. he wasn't even sure why he kept making plans for the both of you.

now, instead of staying at the mansion like a love sick fool, waiting for another canceled plan. logan grabbed his jacket and headed out. the bar in the next upcoming town had become his escape for nights like this - when things didn't make sense, and whiskey could at least dull a smart part of his irritation.

saturday morning passed, and logan still hadn't returned.

you hadn't meant for things to happen like this, guilt had been gnawing at you for weeks, but it come to a point where it was almost unbearable. you knew logan was frustrated, just like your friends. he never did say much, but the way hs expression tightened with each cancellation told you enough.

you didn't want to cancel - not on logan, or on girl's day with jean or storm, and certainly not on scott - who always made you watch scary movies with him. scott started giving you side eyes and stern look during your training together. there was something you couldn't tell them, not yet anyway.

besides, it wasn’t even that bad.

and logan… well, he hadn't come home last night. when you canceled on him for the millionth time. not that it was unusual for him to disappear every now and then to blow off steam. but something about this time felt different. it wasn't just frustration on his part. you could see it - the hurt beneath his facade that he put up.

you decided to put the facts straight.

by saturday afternoon, you decided to make up your mind and find him. you knew where he'd be. the bar wasn't far from the mansion, a ten minute drive and 30 minutes if you walked. it was a place logan went when he needed space.

walking into the bar, you spotted him immediately, he was hunched over the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. he didn't seem as tense as the night before, but there was still a slight shadow of frustration hanging over him.

you walked up to him quietly, sliding onto the stool next to him, he reeked of liquor and cigarettes. "logan?"

he didn't look at you right away, just took another sip from his glass. on the bar was a cigar that was halfway done. "what're you doin' here?" his voice low, gruff.

you fiddled with your fingers. "i came to talk, i thought i'd owe you an explanation."

logan finally turned to look at you, his eyes scanning your face. "yeah, you do. been bailin' on everyone, 'specially me. kinda makes a guy wonder what the hell's goin' on."

"yeah.." you replied softly, biting the inside of your cheek. "i'm sorry logan. i didn't mean to keep canceling like that. i just.. i didn't know how to explain it to you."

logan raised his eyebrow, waiting to hear your explanation.

you sighed, feeling the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on you. "there's a reason i've been avoiding plans. not that i don’t want to hang out with you - or jean or scott or anyone.”

“then what the hell is goin’ on?” logan asked, his voice laced with confusion.

you swallowed, “i’ve been taking care of something.”

logan frowned. his brows knitting together. “takin’ care of what? don’t tell me you’re dealin’-“

“no! oh my gosh, no!” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “it’s a kitten,” you admitted. “i found her outside the mansion a few weeks ago. she was sick and alone, and i couldn’t just leave her out there.”

logan blinked, i mean it was better than what he thought at first. “a kitten?”

you nodded. “yeah, she’s been needing a lot of attention- feeding, medicine, litter box you know. that’s why i’ve been cancelling everything. i didn’t mean to blow you off, logan, i just had to take care of her.”

logan stared at you, his expression softened just a bit. "why didn't you tell anyone? why keep it a secret?"

you sighed, "because animals aren't allowed in the mansion, logan. you know how strict xavier is about that. the furniture, the old wood - they don't want anything getting ruined. and i don't want anyone to get in trouble because of me."

logan let out a breath, setting his glass down with a soft thud on the bar. "so you've been sneaking around, just to take care a kitten?"

you nodded, "yeah. i thought if i could just keep it a secret it’d be okay. but… i didn’t think about how it would look for you. i didn’t mean for it to come off like i was avoiding you.”

logan was quiet for a long moment, his eyes still on you. then, after what felt like an eternity, he shook his head, a small, dry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you’re an idiot, y’know that?”

you blinked, surprised. “what?”

logan let out a low chuckle, the tension finally breaking. “you think i give a damn about some furniture or old wood? if you’ve got somethin’ goin’ on, you tell me. i can handle it- i can handle charles. you hidin’ stuff — that’s what pisses me off.”

you felt the relief wash over you, your shoulders finally relaxing. “i’m sorry, logan. i really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

logan grunted, taking another sip of his drink. “yeah, well. you did. but i get it now.”

you nodded, giving him a small, apologetic smile. “i’ll make it up to you. no more secrets, i swear.”

logan’s smirk widened slightly. “damn right, no more secrets.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting. logan’s frustration had faded, replaced by the familiar ease you usually shared.

“so,” he said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. “what’re you gonna do with the kitten?”

you smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “i don’t know yet. i’ll figure something out. maybe i should find her a home. but… for now, i’ll keep her out of trouble. away from the furniture.”

logan chuckled again, shaking his head. “you’re somethin’ else, kid.”

as the two of you sat in the bar, the tension and frustration finally fading. no more secrets, no more cancellations.

just you, logan, and maybe a kitten (or two).

“also, i’m pretty sure charles already knows. being a mindreader and all.”

[lovemomhatepolice]

oscar piastri nswf alphabet (part 2) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Oscar is clear about his boundaries, both for himself and his partner. He absolutely refuses to engage in anything that seems coercive or disrespectful. Anything that involves humiliation, pain without prior discussion or crossing emotional boundaries is off the table. He rejects dishonesty in expressing desires and needs - open communication is crucial to him. Mutual comfort and consent always come first.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Oscar is the type who doesn't choose whether he prefers to get or give. He knows that it flows from both sides and he really likes to stick to it. He's quite experienced, so he tries to catch what you like and loves to see your reaction. He's also a big fan of how you give something of yourself and go on your knees in front of him. He loves it when he can weave his fingers into your hair.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Rather, he is the type who focuses on the sensuality of the whole act. Oscar likes privacy, peace and quiet. He loves how you have sex in a quiet place, away from people and the speed of the whole world. He likes to take his time, likes to focus on what he is doing and give you all the pleasure possible. But he also happens to be more freaky - for example, when you are both after alcohol, then he fires up harder. You're both in a torrent of electrifying glances at each other, an even heavier air than usual. Then his reins let go and he's not so laid back anymore

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Oscar doesn't mind quick numbers, especially when time is tight or the moment is too irresistible to ignore. He loves the thrill and spontaneity of stealing a few hot minutes together, especially if it happens in an unexpected place. However, he doesn't want them to replace more intimate and drawn-out moments, because he values the deeper connection they bring.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He does not like risks. Oscar is such a balanced and secretive man that he wouldn't allow himself or you to take risks, such as being set upon by other people. He values his privacy too much to allow that to happen. And when it comes to risks, like lack of security, he's also rather against it. You're both young, so he wouldn't want a slip-up to happen to you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Oscar surprises with his stamina - he may seem laid back and relaxed, but when it comes to intimacy, he has impressive stamina. He can easily go two or three rounds in one session if the mood is right, with enough energy to make it exciting each time.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) It's not for him. Oscar is not fascinated by such toys. He's not against it - after all, everything is for people, but he doesn't need it. He thinks the same when it comes to your sex - he doesn't use any “boosters”. However, if you own something, he is not against you showing him…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Oh, Oscar is a tease one. He loves to tease you, driving you crazy. All day long he can hook you up - whisper something naughty, touch you not-so-subtly on the butt or look at you with that one pattern he reserved especially for you. But rest assured, as unbearable as he is with this, he immediately returns the favor and does it brilliantly

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Maybe in everyday life Oscar is not very talkative and seems secretive, but I beg you. When things move to your bedroom, bathroom, living room, whatever - Oscar is unrecognizable. He turns into a whining mess, constantly whispers sweet nothings (or the less sweet ones) in your ear, and you could swear that's the moment when he's at his loudest

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) I have already mentioned that Oscar is a master of aftercare. But how he loves it when you take the initiative and take care of him! Mostly he prefers to do it, but when you wash him or prepare his favorite food, or god forbid, stroke his hair and back, well he is in paradise

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Hm, Oscar is rather normal sized. He's not very big, but he's definitely not small. For you, it's perfect and in any position you feel it filling you up quite as it should

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Mm, his sex drive is stable. He's not too demanding and doesn't expect sex from you all the time, but he doesn't have little of it either. It all depends on the time he is currently in. If he happens to have more free time and you're next to him, he doesn't take his hands off you. Although he does it respectfully and does not impose himself, you know very well what he wants by those shining eyes of his

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He only falls asleep when he knows the aftercare has been properly done. He tries to fall asleep only when you are already sleeping safely next to him, but he happens to fall asleep before you do. This is especially true when you are the one cuddling him close, rather than him cuddling you. Then he doesn't need much - but he tries

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!!

I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and in my celebration to the first thousand!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[lucy90712]

Heyyyy ♡♡♡♡♡♡

Could I request a headcanon on the boys ( whoever you want) giving reader the orincess treatment?

Gavi: 

- He has always treated you like you'll disappear if he doesn't give you the best which of course he should do regardless but he always goes above and beyond because he wants you to feel like he's treating you like a princess at all times

- He does everything to make sure he's the best boyfriend you've ever had and hopefully good enough to be your last he's very good at it too he never takes you for granted and always makes sure he makes time for you especially when he knows you need him most

- You are his passenger princess 

- Once he had his license you were the first person he took out in his car he came straight from doing his test to your place to pick you up and take you somewhere he doesn't even have anywhere to go but he just drives around 

- Now that he can drive he won't have you driving him or yourself anywhere if he can help it he drives you to your classes and to see your friends purely because he loves driving you places as he gets to listen to you sing along to whatever playlist he plays in the car and he can hold your hand or have his hand on your thigh which he really enjoys as he loves to savour little moments like that 

- He absolutely loves late night drives and he will always bring you along with him as he drives to somewhere that he can park the car and you guys can just enjoy the scenery and he can just stare at you as you look better than the view to him anyway 

Pedri: 

- He was raised to always respect women and as soon as he got his first girlfriend his parents made sure he knew how to treat her even though he was young and that has only been drilled into him more as he's got older so he has always been a gentleman and treated women well 

- Because of this he has never given you anything but the best although he never thinks of it that way he's just treating you like he was raised to do but for you it feels so amazing to be almost worshipped by him as all your last boyfriends have done the bare minimum at most 

- Pedri always likes to make sure you are doing well as when you get stressed or overwhelmed you aren't yourself and he loves the not stressed you so he tries his best to make sure you never get to that point and you are always smiling as he loves your smile 

- When you have a busy week Pedri will get come over to your place every night and cook dinner for you or at least attempt to as he wants to know that you have at least one proper meal each day when you have a lot going on he will also take over some of your chores as he knows you hate living in a messy place and it will just stress you out more 

- You are always so thankful for what he does for you but he never accepts anything in return because he knows that you will do the same for him when he is schedule gets busy and you have many times

- When you live together none of this will change Pedri cares so much about you that he never wants to see you suffer when he help so even if he has a match that takes up most of his day he will still check in on you as he thinks that's the only right way to treat you 

Jude: 

- Jude treats you like a queen at all times because he knows that he should treat his girlfriend that way and because if he didn't his parents would kill him they have always taught him to be caring and treat others well especially friends and girlfriends 

- He always thinks that you deserve the world as you deal with so much like him not being around much, the constant media attention and all the negative comments on social media which he knows gets to you even though you say it doesn't 

- Obviously he can't change his schedule or what people say so instead he tries to make it up to you in any way possible which often involves spoiling you which he is lucky enough to be able to afford to get you anything you could possibly want 

- You are always telling him not to get you things but he does it anyway as he knows that you don't like to spend your money on unnecessary things for yourself so he does it instead because what's the point of earning the amount of money he does if he can't use it to spoil you 

- When you move to Madrid to live with him he gets you a brand new car as you can drive but you've only ever had old half broken cars so he gets you your dream car which you say is so that you won’t embarrass him if you drive him to training but really he just wants you to have the best 

- He also uses all his breaks to take you to the places you've always wanted to go he has a list of places you've said you want to visit so when he has some time off he picks somewhere off the list and books the plane tickets he loves doing this as he loves nothing more then seeing the smile on your face when you are exploring 

Joao: 

- Joao knows how to treat a woman right and he’s been in long term relationships so he’s pretty good at it but after his last relationship he blames himself for not being a good enough boyfriend  to her and not doing enough so he’s determined to not make the same mistake again 

- You always try and tell him that he wasn’t the reason his last relationship ended and that he’s more than good enough for you but still he insists on treating you like you are the only girl left on earth which obviously you love as he makes you feel so special 

- One of the many things that makes Joao a great boyfriend is that he knows you better than you know yourself at times he can pick up on when you are stressed and can help you before you have a breakdown and he just seems to always know how you are feeling without you telling him 

- To him being a good partner and treating you like a princess involves being attentive to your emotional wellbeing as well as your physical wellbeing because he’s been through hard time with no one to support him and he’s determined not to let that happen to you so whenever something bad happens he will be the one to be by your side and let you cry or listen to your feelings 

- Your relationship is very equal so all of your problems are his and vice versa that way you both always have someone to lean on when you need support as he didn’t have that in his last relationship which ultimately led to some of the downfall 

- Joao wants nothing more than to be the best partner he can be for you as he knows you deserve the best so even if at times he doesn’t think he’s enough he always tries his best and that’s what attracted you to him in the first place as all you care about is the fact that he’s trying as that’s all you can really ask for 

[myechoecho]

Watch the first two episodes of When the Phone Rings and where has something like this been ALL year in kdramaland???

There is something delicious about how Sa Eon and Hee Joo are both in communication yet have zero communication with one another. I love that she told him off at the party in sign language knowing he would not understand. The fact that she's been quietly defying him this entire time and he's only just realizing it now.

Did I suspect that Hee Joo was not actually mute? Absolutely. It would have been more surprising if she was mute. However, I was floored when it was revealed that Hee Joo had the phone and was using it to taunt Sa Eon in a moment of sheer rage and hurt. The utter betrayal she feels because he told the kidnapper to go ahead an kill her then he has the nerve to say at the party she is his weakness what just too much for her. I fully support this deranged and brilliant move.

Now we get this bizarre flirtation between the two, with them weirdly learning more about the other all through the voice modulated cell phone that Hee Joo swiped. . Hee Joo taunting him with all he doesn't know about her. Sa Eon learning he does not know about Hee Joo and then becoming determined to learn about her. Though that, Hee Joo learning that he actually does care and probably always did. This is what is going to push them together.

Though for someone that says they are in absolute control of everything, it's slightly odd that Sa Eon would not learn sign language. Like what if she was telling the ambassador that she is being held hostage and needs help? I guess she's been isolated and hidden enough to not matter. Even the way he "confirmed" how she was home in order for him to say to the kidnapper to kill her was a bit lazy.

At the same time, there was clearly some nagging doubt that Sa Eon had. He was very much relieved that she was safe. He was also absolutely furious to learn that the kidnapping was real as seen by his bloody knuckles. Not sure why he thought he knew her when they did not speak through their 3 year marriage, but now it's driving him nuts to know that there are pieces of her he simply does not understand. He is going to rectify that.

I am very curious as to how their marriage came to be. The reveal at the end that it was Sa Eon to suggest the bride swap seemingly to save Hee Joo from marriage to a terrible person. Even though he is cold and indifferent to her and literally called her a hostage so it's still not a great situation for Hee Joo to be in. I have a strong suspicion that person texting Sa Eon was Hee Joo, and NOT her sister. The language used in the text is identical to the language Hee Joo used in the present to threaten Sa Eon.

If I am right about this, that opens up so many questions. Why did Hee Joo want to stop the marriage? Where is her sister? Did her sister know? What secrets of Sa Eon's family did Hee Joo know? Why did Sa Eon suggest the bride swap after leaning Hee Joo was to be married? Did he always care for her? Why did Hee Joo agree to this marriage, since the person on the other end of the text was obviously thrown by the suggestion? We know that Hee Joo's mom/step mom uses her father to manipulate her so that probably plays a role but is there more to it?

Clearly the kidnapper is also going to make a reappearance since he's not going to let all his carefully laid plans go to waste. The preview for the next episode has me excited. And Hee Joo and Sa Eon have bucket loads of chemistry.

I will end with my now obligatory rant on how this show should be 16 episodes. At least it's 12 episodes since those shows tend to work a bit better than the ones that are 10 eps or less. But I am still bitter about the episode count.

[willowed-wisp]

sweethearts [ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish ]

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!reader

You had known him forever. Since nursery school and all the time in between.

John MacTavish- though, you called him Johnny. And in later life, that turned into calling him ‘Soap’.

He had been gunning for that uniform since you were 15 and he was 16… falsifying his age only to fail miserably.

It was culture shock to when he left when he was 18… he was your first friend, first kiss, first young love. Yet, it was nothing official. Just two best friends experimenting with each other. You couldn’t have asked for a better person.

You were there when he came back- more of a man than the boy who left. All of him larger than before even that indicative smile. But HE hadn’t changed, still the same snack eating, football loving Scotsman.

That meant your attraction for him was worse than ever- having been in love with Johnny for most of your life. His sky bursted gaze enough to drive you crazy.

Someone like him would never feel the same about you- strictly friends.

Mates who got mistaken for boyfriend and girlfriend most days of the week. Neither of you minded it but it was always you who persisted the, ‘as if… he drives me insane…’ the pining kind of insanity.

His return led you to distance yourself, an insecure freshly turned 18 year old, distracting herself from the boy next door. Johnny could do much better for friends than you, he was the youngest SAS recruit to pass the selection.

HE COULD DO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU.

You didn’t even go say goodbye to him when he left for his first mission- somewhere you’d never know.

Instead, he came to you. Stood at your doorstep.

His face gloomy, “So you weren’ even gonna say goodbye?” Not knowing what to do, your shoulders shrugged and silence ensued. “You’ve been off for weeks, when was the last time we had a movie night? Is it because of the training? Me leavin’?”

Fingers picking at your nails; you’d never been nervous around him. But this was the first time seeing him in god-knows how long, when you hadn’t spent a day away from each other. “I don’t know, John- ,”

“You do know and that’s the problem, Y/N, because you won’t bloody tell me what I’ve done wrong,” he spoke harsher than intended, regretting it within an instant as your stepped forward- sizing the six foot something soldier up.

Staring up at him, “Why do you bother with me when you could have anybody around you? I’m not going anywhere with my life!” It wasn’t envy that spurred you on, it was the fact he was going to leave you.

Heartbroken and yearning. Lost without the boy who had always bolstered you up when you had been thrown to the ground.

Johnny’s eyes welled with tears, “What’s made you think that?”

In a whisper, “You’ve just gotten into the fucking SAS, Johnny…”

“So what? I’m still the same guy… nothing’s ever gonna change me… you should know that by now…”

You wanted things to change- the dynamics between you. Before he found somebody who would knock him off his feet and you’d never get the chance.

His fingers trailed your arm, before he cupped your hand. Blue coveted your vision, “Nothing’s goin’ to change us, you’re my absolute best mate…”

Like a dagger, he struck a nerve, “Maybe I don’t want to be your ‘best mate’, I’m sick of pining for you when clearly you’ll never feel the same way,” a quick pause, “Go and find a pretty gir- ,” Before you knew it, his kiss smothered you. More intimate than when you were twelve, with more intent.

Instead of resisting, you caved in. Hands balanced holding his jawline, clean shaven.

Exploring every inch of your body in that hurried kiss. It was better than anything you had dreamed.

Before you pulled away first, “You’re my everything, Y/N…” Thumbs rubbing circles at your waist. “I cannot tell you how long I’ve wanted to do tha’…”

The memory ran writhe in your brain. That was 8 years ago…

Since then you were happily married with a baby on the way. Johnny had been deployed for over a month. Today he was supposed to be returning- from where you didn’t have a clue but he always came home safely.

That’s what mattered.

You expected the phone to start buzzing, the usual unknown number saying to go to the airport. Instead, a knock at the door.

It was like him not to want to run you around pregnant. But it was Simon who answered the door.

Not able to help the tremble. Air caught in your throat, choking on nothing. “He’s not… is he?” Stopping those tears from coming down- clutching your belly.

You’d have fallen to your knees- had it not been for capable hands.

You looked up, blue eyes for days and a face contorted worriedly, “What did you say, to ‘er, LT?” He held you close, but it would never be enough for you. “You and munchkin okay?” He rubbed your large stomach.

You crushed him in your arms. “Darlin’, I’m a bit tender…” Only then did you notice the sling in his arm, a bandage skirting beneath his shirt.

“What happened?” He shook his head, a grin on his face.

One of nervousness, “It could have been a lot worse,” Simon was as gruff as usual. You would never be allowed to know what happened.

“I’m just glad you’re safe and sound,” Thumb rubbing along longer stubble on his cheek, there was more to the story than either him or Simon were telling you. “You too, Si, thanks for taking care of him.” Spoken wholeheartedly, “Dinners on, you can stay if you want?”

He accepted as he usually did. The mood held less tension as time went on. You came to the conclusion that you were lucky to have Johnny in front of you, laughing at some stupid dad joke Simon said.

All you did was sit there, looking at the guy you had loved all your life.

Your Johnny…

————

I contemplated 💀 Johnny but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He’s just too sweet and just too tragic to write.

Thank you for reading :) xx

————

masterlist

[safetycar-restart]

u know how charles always has andrea spray his back and chest with water before a race? yeah, well, his mommy doing that for him instead.

I cant claim to be back until I answer an📓 ask and discuss sub!Charles with his mommy. We can't possibly be back until this, so here we go :))

So firstly, as every person in Ferrari knows, Charles is utterly obsessed with you and when you are around then absolutely no one else will do. So much so that now the whole pit crew now turn to you before charles climbs into the car because they know that Charles will not drive until he has received three forehead kisses and a head pat (it and MUST be three, you cannot give only two).

All of this is to say that Andrea spent about two seconds trying to convince Charles to let him sprits him with him water before giving up and motioning for you to come forward. There are certain battles that simply cannot be won and Charles wanting you to do something for him is one of them.

When you come over and take the bottle, Charles immediately smiles so brightly. He's so pleased!! You spray him and turn him around, manhandling him into the right position to spray his back and oh he's giggling so much, so so pleased to be manhandled by his mommy.

You spray his back and tuck his fireproofs back under his suit and then turn him around again to give him a kiss on the nose and also to spray some water in his face just to see his face scrunch up and hear his little squeal.

Also, when it's really really hot and Ferrari gives him one of those ice vests to him then he has been known to constantly be hugging you from behind. Not only because he likes hugging you, but because it's so hot and you must also be so hot!! He's got a lovely cool jacket to help him stay nice and cool and so he must share it with you, he must hug you so the cool vest is pressed against your back to help you stay cool. It doesn't matter how many times you tell him you're fine, he will not be persuaded. He has decided his mommy is too hot without him and he will help!!

(Also, the real chaos is for poly!piarles because the moment Pierre sees a picture of that spray bottle it is over and he will be an absolute menace when he gets his hands on it)

[the-au-thor]

A la velocidad de la Luz | pt.1 | Steve Harrington x Reader

A/N: Heyyy, I’ve got a lot to do, but I’m kinda tired. English isn’t my first language, so I usually have to translate my fanfics. Just wanted to drop this post so you guys know the tragic thing that happened to me 😩. I’m working on translating Babysitting Munson ASAP to update it soon. Sorry for the delay! 💔

Summary: Steve and you seem like you’re friends? And he seems super observant. You need him, and he knows it. Let’s see how you fall for him and what Steve Harrington’s love language is.

Trigger Warning: click here

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Steve recognized the signs as soon as he saw you that movie night on Friday.

After the traumatic events you all had endured, it was only natural that you formed an almost unbreakable bond. A connection that linked the fancy house in the upscale neighborhood with the humble trailer from the wrong side of the tracks. A bond that defied logic, bringing together different ages, circumstances, and tastes into a group that religiously gathered every Friday to binge on popcorn and watch horror films. Afterward, everyone would stay over because, for some reason, no one wanted to go home or be apart. You all needed each other to keep going, though it wasn’t something anyone would openly admit. It was an unspoken agreement, one everyone was perfectly fine with.

This constant practice of coexisting made Steve more observant. He had discovered he genuinely enjoyed taking care of others and that his complaints about it were just part of a ritual. Dustin would insist he absolutely needed to go somewhere, and only Steve could take him. After grumbling, insisting he wasn’t a babysitter, and complaining about wasting his time, Steve would grab his keys and drive him wherever he needed to go. He could predict stomachaches after the kids devoured too much candy and was always ready with antacids and chicken soup. He broke up bar fights at The Hideout to make sure Corroded Coffin’s gigs didn’t get ruined, and Hopper didn’t get unnecessary calls. He had been there for Robin, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan, and each of the kids. Maybe that’s why Hopper had suggested police academy. And maybe that’s why Steve felt like all of you were the reason he wasn’t that lost kid with a terrible social life anymore, unsure of what to do with his future.

You glanced at him with a small smile during the bathroom break Nancy had enforced after Dustin got a UTI from holding it during Freddy’s killings scenes.

“What?” you asked, tossing a handful of popcorn into your mouth as you turned to face him.

Steve didn’t know you well before Hawkins’ catastrophic events pulled you all together. You were Robin’s friend in high school and worked with Nancy on the school paper. You admitted you didn’t share Nancy’s reporter spirit—you just liked writing and thought being on the paper would look good on a college application. He vaguely remembered seeing you at some parties because Vicky’s twin brother, Justin Carmichael, had tried to date you. Steve recalled Justin whining for a week about how he’d taken you to the best party of the year, and you hadn’t even let him get to first base. Deep down, Steve was glad. Justin Carmichael was an idiot, as dumb as Steve had once been.

After graduation, you met again during the last Hawkins disaster, which almost none of you survived. You were attending Indiana University during the week, but you came home on weekends because, unlike Steve’s parents, yours genuinely loved having you around and cared about your interests. That explained your nurturing, always-ready-to-listen demeanor. Steve thought it wasn’t surprising he hadn’t noticed you before. The old Steve wouldn’t have looked twice at someone like you because he’d been a selfish idiot back then. He’d proved it with Nancy and had to suffer a lot before proving to himself he was more than what his parents or old friends expected of him.

“You okay?” Steve asked, hearing Lucas and Max whispering as they kissed on a couch in the back.

Robin was in the kitchen, microwaving more popcorn while Nancy caught her up on her long-distance relationship with Jonathan. Steve always knew they’d make it work; they were just that kind of couple. Dustin had gone to the bathroom, while Will laughed at Mike and El’s petty argument, which Eddie occasionally fueled with sarcastic commentary.

You held Steve’s gaze for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Finally on break. I missed not having to pack every weekend,” you said with a small smile. “And I’ll get a break from Professor Lewis’s lectures.”

Steve winced. “Still giving you a hard time?”

You nodded. “To the last second of class. I don’t know how I’ll get through next year if he keeps this up. I have no idea what I did to him.”

Steve frowned. “Some people are just bitter, you know? Maybe he’s jealous of how talented you are.”

You wrinkled your nose, letting out a dry laugh. “He’s a Times writer. Jealous? Please.”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe he sees something in you he’ll never have. Adults project their crap onto younger people all the time.”

You studied him in silence, popping another piece of popcorn into your mouth before asking, “How’s your dad taking you being the first in the academy by the way?”

Steve let out a short laugh. “Oh, he’s thrilled. Especially since Hopper was basically his nemesis in high school when they were both on the basketball team.” He took two big sips of Coke.

You smirked. “Speaking of adults who project…”

Steve chuckled, watching you dig through your bag for your medication. He remembered the first time you’d shown everyone your pills. It was after closing the gate for good, when the government stashed you in a fancy hotel while cleaning up Hawkins—and Eddie’s reputation. You were safe for the first time in ages, but none of you could sleep. You’d been holed up in that hotel suite for 24 hours, ordering the most expensive food on the menu and playing video games nonstop. But when Eddie spent three hours curled up on his bed without actually resting, you’d had enough.

Steve had watched as you stood up, turned off the TV, and took Argyle’s pasta tray. No one even had the energy to protest. You stood in your hotel robe, exhaustion in your eyes, and declared, “All right. I’m about to do something I shouldn’t, and you have to promise not to tell your parents. Yes, Erica, I mean you specifically,” you said, leveling a stern gaze at her. Then, you started handing out small capsules to everyone except Erica, who got melatonin gummies.

“What’s this?” Dustin asked, sniffing the pill.

“These are my sleeping pills,” you explained calmly. “They’re mild, but you guys haven’t slept in days. So here’s the deal: we’re going to pretend I’m not breaking the law here. Everyone will take one—trust me, the dose is low—and don’t freak out if you taste something bitter. And you all have to promise to see a doctor after this, because what we’ve been through isn’t normal, and you need help.”

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He swallowed his pill, got into bed, and wished everyone goodnight. One by one, the kids followed, and Steve helped you and Robin dim the lights as everyone found a spot to sleep.

In the quiet, Steve had whispered, “Didn’t know you took sleeping pills.”

You’d hesitated, then admitted, “I started having panic attacks when I was 15. They diagnosed me with PTSD because I...well, went through some shit as a kid. There were too many sleepless nights—it wrecked everything. The pills help.” Your voice was steady, but Steve could hear the pain beneath your words. “With therapy and support, it gets better. These pills are nothing compared to what I used to take. It’s like I got a piece of myself back.”

“Thanks for sharing that. You’re strong, you know?” Steve said, his voice soft with sleep.

Your hand had reached across Robin to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Goodnight, Steve.”

Now, watching you down two capsules, Steve frowned. “Two? That’s new.”

You nodded, taking a sip of water. “I’ve been having issues with my dosage. I’ll see the doctor over break and get it sorted.”

Steve’s brows furrowed with concern. “Want me to come with you?”

You shook your head with a quick smile. “And have you waiting an hour while my psychiatrist goes through my baggage? No thanks. But I appreciate it.”

Steve leaned back into the couch, his eyes not leaving you. “Offer stands, though.”

You smiled, genuinely touched. “Thanks.”

Eddie chose that moment to plop down between you and Steve, flashing a mischievous grin at his friend as he wedged into the space. Steve rolled his eyes, resigned, and focused on the movie. But even during the tensest scenes, he couldn’t help but glance at you, his worry lingering. Despite the pills, you didn’t yawn once.

The next morning, you were the first one up, already showered and dressed in your athletic shorts and oversized The Clash T-shirt, making breakfast for the sleepyheads still sprawled out on the couch and carpet, snoring away. Nancy was the next to join you, followed by Robin and Argyle.

Steve eventually got up too, greeting the early risers with a groggy smile before heading to his room for a quick shower. He came back downstairs to help out, finding Nancy making waffles while you focused on the eggs. Taking the initiative, he filled the coffee maker with his dad’s favorite blend—a coffee the man rarely drank himself since he was hardly ever home.

"Shouldn't we wake them up?" Nancy asked as she flipped another waffle onto the stack. "I mean, they were the ones so excited about going to the lake."

“Sis, it’s vacation time; you can’t go all dictator on them. They’ll wake up when they do,” Argyle murmured in his usual laid-back tone.

Nancy huffed but didn’t argue with his logic. Instead, she piled the waffles on a platter and leaned against Steve’s kitchen island, looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

You had stayed silent, focused on the eggs, your gaze lost in the pan. You nodded, flipping the eggs once before turning off the stove. Turning to Nancy with a smile, you replied, “I’m fine. Have you had it rough at school?”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “I swear, if I have to do group projects again, I’m going to lose it,” she grumbled, prompting a chuckle from Eddie, who was lounging amidst the cushions, watching everyone.

“Come on, Wheeler,” Eddie laughed. “You’ve worked with us, and that’s turned out fine. What could be worse?”

Robin walked past him, tossing her black cardigan—full of intentional holes Eddie had made to make it look “metal”—onto his face. As Eddie pulled it off, Robin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t you have any shame, Munson?”

Steve let out a mocking laugh as he poured coffee into a couple of mugs.

“Yeah, dude. What’s up with stripping in the middle of the night?”

Eddie struggled to get dressed and clumsily got up from the couch.

“Well, next time, you share a couch on a hot summer night with Henderson, okay?” he grumbled, glancing over at Dustin, who was still sleeping soundly with his mouth open. Eddie threw a blanket at him, yelling, “Wake up!”

Dustin jolted awake, looking alarmed, but calmed down when he saw that everyone was fine and the worst thing that had happened was the drool stain on one of the cushions of Steve’s parents’ sofa. Steve slowly approached the couch, picking up the stained cushion, glaring at Dustin with a mix of annoyance and disbelief.

“Dude, this sofa is worth thousands of dollars. My mom is going to lose it when she sees this,” he protested, tossing the cushion at Dustin, who wasn’t fazed by the scolding and instead smirked, even looking proud of himself as he sprawled back on the couch.

Steve’s house was chaotic for the next few minutes. Forks scraped against the plates, definitely leaving marks Steve’s mom would notice. Eddie, in particular, was too aggressive cutting his bacon. Nancy ensured everything was washed in an orderly manner, arguing it was better to clean up now than be too exhausted to deal with it later. You, Robin, and Steve followed her lead without question because no one wanted to argue with Nancy Wheeler. Meanwhile, Argyle, Eddie, and Jonathan dried and put everything away. The kids prepared for an afternoon at the lake.

When you all arrived, everyone spread out on lounge chairs and oversized towels, and most of the group dove straight into the water. Steve watched as you approached with a bottle of sunscreen, making everyone apply it to their backs, arms, faces, and shoulders—even amid Mike’s small protests about it being unnecessary.

You all swam for a while, ate popsicles, and held little swimming races. Steve faked a cramp so Dustin could win one of the races. Steve didn’t know you had noticed, but you did, smiling quietly at his small act of kindness.

Steve wasn’t the type to open up emotionally in front of a group—that was more Eddie’s style. He wouldn’t stand in the middle of a bonfire to confess how much he cared about everyone, but moments like this made him incredibly happy. He had always been alone but hadn’t realized it was a problem until he met all of you. Now, under the warm, glowing sun near the horizon, he could quietly admire the happiness of being surrounded by friends.

The kids were still splashing around with Robin, Eddie, and Argyle. Jonathan and Nancy swam further out, exchanging kisses and chatting softly. You gave Will a hug, kissed his cheek, and playfully squished the other one, making him laugh before he gently pushed you away. Then, you splashed water at his face and messed up his hair, swimming back toward the shore with strong strokes. When your feet reached the rocky bottom, you waded out, grabbed the towel next to Steve, and flopped onto it to dry off in the sun.

Steve watched you push your wet hair to one side through his sunglasses, noticing the tiny water droplets glistening on your skin before disappearing or evaporating. Silently, you put on your sunglasses, pulled out one of the books you always carried, and began to read. He observed your fingers flipping through the pages and the way your tongue peeked out between your lips as you concentrated on finding your place in the story. Smiling to himself, he adjusted his position on the towel and let out a contented sigh, soaking up the warmth of the sun.

“Can you imagine a man with an extraordinary sense of smell who starts killing people to extract the essence of the young women he murders?” you suddenly broke the silence, your eyes still on the book.

Steve frowned, amused. “No, but I mean… it’s not like we haven’t seen worse things than humans killing each other,” he replied with sarcasm, making you chuckle softly.

“Fair enough,” you said, wetting your finger to turn the page.

Steve cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably before turning toward you.

“Hey, I think you need to be careful with Will.”

That made you glance at him over the top of your sunglasses. Even though he couldn’t see your eyes directly, he could feel the weight of your gaze.

“Why? Is he going around sniffing people and plotting murders?”

Steve frowned. “What? No! What are you talking about?”

You set your book down on your stomach and gave him your full attention.

“Oh, no, it’s just that we were talking about the book, and then you mentioned Will… Having to explain a joke makes it tedious, doesn’t it?” you laughed, letting out a sigh of frustration as if suddenly feeling clumsy and awkward. “What’s going on with Will?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck, trying to piece his words together logically. Internally, he regretted starting the conversation without thinking it through.

“I don’t know. I think he might… maybe… have feelings for you. It’s not your fault; you’re just kind to him,” he paused, struggling to clarify his point. “I just think he might be misinterpreting things a little…”

You slid your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose to meet his eyes directly.

“Are you saying Will Byers has a little crush on me?” you asked slowly, wanting to avoid any misunderstanding.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, shrugging his shoulders and rubbing the tip of his nose. His eyes darted away from yours.

“Maybe,” was all he managed to say.

You adjusted your sunglasses back into place and smiled calmly before picking up your book again.

“Will doesn’t have a crush on me, Steve. At least not on me. Trust me, I know,” you reassured him softly, giving him one last glance. “Really.”

Steve didn’t know it, but you understood his concern all too well. There was a reason why you and Will were so close, why your relationship had deepened over time. It had as much to do with Will’s feelings as it didn’t. It wasn’t something you could explain—it wasn’t your story to tell.

You’d noticed something different about Will months ago, even before the Byers family moved to California. But you weren’t exactly friends back then. You’d tutored him a few times, but that didn’t give you the right to pry into his life. When the Byers returned to Hawkins, Will had become even quieter, more withdrawn, and solitary, even when surrounded by the group. You couldn’t help but get involved, especially the day Joyce called to ask if you could spare an hour on weekends to help Will with his English essays. He’d been losing focus more and more. Joyce’s sensitive side wanted to intervene, but her rational side told her to give him time to readjust.

That phone call left you worried for the rest of the week. By Saturday, when you saw it for yourself, you understood. The distraction in Will’s eyes wasn’t about being somewhere else, far from the room where you were trying to help him write an essay his teacher assigned to boost his grade. No, it was deeper. He was trapped inside himself, locked in a cell whose door was wide open, yet he was both comfortable and terrified to leave.

You remembered noticing an old school project from California tucked away under a pile of canvases. The drawings were incredible—realistic and impressionistic depictions of massive dragons and knights in shining armor wielding swords. The project itself was about Alan Turing, and the dedication in his work caught your attention. Dusting it off, you showed it to him, pointing out its potential.

“This is the Will I want to see in school,” you’d said.

When you looked up, you saw his eyes glisten with unshed tears, and that’s when you knew something was deeply wrong. The essay was forgotten as you sat beside him and took his hands. You promised to keep anything he shared in confidence and let him speak.

You’d never heard Will talk so much. His words surprised you—how he’d hidden his pain so well, how deeply rooted his loneliness had become. He was just a kid, experiencing his first heartbreak. The worst part? You couldn’t promise it would be his last. Life wasn’t going to be easy for him, and his future looked rocky at best. From that day on, you made sure to be there for him whenever he needed you. You even started planning a trip to the MET to fuel his enthusiasm for art.

Being the youngest sibling in your family, with three older brothers, you’d never really known what it was like to look after someone else until you met the kids. It made you happy to ensure everyone was okay. Now, you wanted to make sure Will had a good summer, that his heart healed, and that one day he’d meet a kind boy who could help pick up the pieces and mend whatever hate he might encounter.

It was pretty late by the time everyone decided to head home. The kids were dropped off at the Wheeler’s for a sleepover. Eddie invited the rest of you—Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Robin, and yourself—to one of his Corroded Coffin rehearsals at The Hideout. You were about to agree when Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, smiling.

“We’ve got plans,” he said casually.

You blinked at him in confusion, but when his hand pressed softly at your side, you went along with it. You all said goodbye outside the bar, and then you climbed into Steve’s car, curiosity buzzing inside you. Once both seatbelts were fastened, you turned to him.

“So... what exactly are these plans?”

“I was thinking we could do something. Just you and me.”

A date? you wondered, maybe naively. Steve Harrington and you, alone without the rest of the group? You couldn’t recall a single time you’d hung out with him one-on-one. Well, except that one time when you brought cookies to the academy.

He’d passed all his physical training exams, and you knew his parents wouldn’t bother to congratulate him. You’d organized a celebration with the gang, but you also wanted to do something special. You made his favorite cookies—crispy ones with cinnamon, caramel, and peanuts—and met him during his lunch break. He must’ve just finished a workout because the ends of his hair were still damp, and he was wearing shorts and a tank top. His skin glistened with drops of water his cheeks still flushed. A towel hung loosely around his neck, and he used one end to dab at his temple.

You’d been waiting for him in the reception area, a bright smile plastered across your face. Later that night, when intrusive thoughts came uninvited, you’d wondered if you’d looked like a lunatic standing there, grinning like that.

“What’s this?” Steve had asked, half-smiling as he eyed the box in your hands.

“Congrats on passing your physical exam,” you’d replied, holding the box out to him.

His expression shifted—gratitude mixed with something softer, sadder. Then, unexpectedly, he hugged you. You’d hugged before, usually after some life-threatening adventure, but this was different. His chin rested on your shoulder as his hands rubbed gently between your shoulder blades. You heard him sigh and thank you in a voice barely above a whisper.

When he pulled back, you were still on tiptoes, his hands resting on your shoulders. His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and it felt like there was something unsaid between you. But it passed so quickly that you didn’t dwell on it. You never visited him at the academy again, despite having more than one excuse to. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to protect yourself, so you avoided being alone with Steve, steering clear of situations where the two of you might end up without the others around.

When you arrived at his house, a strange feeling washed over you. Steve must’ve noticed your furrowed brow or how you hesitated to leave the car, staring cautiously at the house. He walked around to your side, opened your door, and smiled at you in a way that inspired trust.

“There’s something I want to show you inside,” he said, holding out his hand.

You half-smiled, unsure how to feel—curious, maybe a little apprehensive. Taking his hand, you stepped out of the car and followed him to the door. His fingers stayed securely wrapped around yours, his thumb drawing calming circles on your palm every so often.

The house was just as you’d left it, except for a pillow slightly out of place on the expensive sofa. Steve led you upstairs, past strategically placed family photos his mom had hung. One, in particular, caught your attention—a studio portrait with a standard blue background and cartoonish clouds. In the middle was a baby in a sailor outfit, smiling wide.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Is that you?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, it’s me. What, you don’t like it?”

“I love it. Did you ever wish you had siblings?”

Steve glanced at you curiously but nodded. “Yeah, I did. My parents didn’t want more kids, though. By the time they changed their minds, it was too late. My dad says it’s because of my mom, but we all know better.”

You winced, recalling the one time you’d met Mr. Harrington. He’d introduced himself as Mr. Harrington, like he’d adopted the title as his first name. He seemed the type to blame his wife for his own failings.

“I always wanted younger siblings,” you murmured, running your finger lightly along the banister. “I guess now I’ve got some.”

“Yeah, and they’re a pain,” Steve grumbled, stopping outside a closed door and turning to look at you.

You smiled nervously. He was looking at you like that. What were you supposed to do? Shrugging, you muttered, “They’re not that bad.”

Steve’s gaze held yours, his brown eyes warm and unguarded in a way you didn’t see often. Then he slipped into the room and shut the door behind him, leaving you to fidget in the hallway. A moment later, he reappeared, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve got something for you on the other side of this door,” he announced before pushing it open.

The guest room came into view, its blackout curtains drawn over the massive windows overlooking the Harringtons’ backyard. The faint sound of ocean waves played from hidden speakers, and the air was scented with lavender from candles scattered around. The bed was immaculately made, piled with soft pillows and clean sheets.

You glanced at Steve, confused. “Uh, you could at least offer me coffee first, Steve. Just saying.”

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. “If I wanted that, I’d spring for something fancier than coffee. Give me some credit.”

Still grinning, he stepped inside and handed you a neatly folded set of pajamas.

“Seriously, though—this is an intervention.”

You stood frozen in the doorway, eyeing the clothes in your hands. The soft fabric slid beneath your fingers as you frowned. “An intervention for what?”

Steve’s smile widened. “Glad you asked.”

He gestured to the pajamas. “I’m gonna run you a bath. My mom’s got all these fancy bath salts that are supposed to transport you to another dimension or something. You’re gonna relax, put on those pajamas, and sleep. You’ve been burning yourself out. It’s bad for the soul. It’s bad for my soul, too, having to watch it.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “You’re being sweet.”

“I’m always sweet,” he quipped, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re just finally paying attention.”

"Steve; What...?" You shook your head quickly, trying to make the confusion vanish as if by magic. "I don’t understand."

Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and looked directly into your eyes.

"You haven’t slept in months; you’re not fooling me. You said it’s been hard to sleep, but I know it’s more than that. You’ve been really stressed out, and when that happens, insomnia, panic attacks, negative thoughts, and the need to isolate yourself start creeping in. I’ve seen it. So let’s try to avoid that, and for that, I’ve made a sleep bomb. I just need your cooperation. Can we do that?"

You looked at him, trying to read his expression. It surprised you that Steve had noticed the signs of distress in you. You hadn’t wanted to alert anyone, not even your parents, who had already gone through it with you more than once. You didn’t want to make them suffer. You didn’t want to tell them that when you were in college, the only thing you thought about when you weren’t studying or trying to avoid getting on Professor Lewis’s bad side was going back to Hawkins; being with them, your friends, your family. You didn’t want to tell them that you had returned to that dark place, where you would lie awake for those long nights, desperate and crying, wondering what it would feel like to sleep forever, to wake up when everything hurt less. From time to time, your mind would take you there. You knew it was just a phase that would pass with time, but the uncertainty of when or how long it would last was another nail in the torture of your burden. That Steve hadn’t needed any words of help from you to notice meant both a surprise and a terror to you. Surprising because you didn’t think he’d even notice; he was busy with the enormous house his parents hardly lived in, taking care of the younger kids, going through the academy trials while trying to navigate his way through the hordes of renewed fangirls who had returned to their admiration and flirtation exercises. Did he even have room for you in his schedule? You knew he was a friend, but honestly, you had hung out more with Nancy, Robin, and Eddie—shopping, going to the movies, and attending concerts—than you ever had wandering aimlessly around downtown with Steve. Of all the people in your group, Steve was honestly the last person you thought would notice your silent cries for help. And yet here he was, in front of you. At some point, he’d gone out of his way to set up an entire room, light candles, and have a bed that looked too inviting, along with soft satin pajamas, neatly folded for you.

It felt like your lungs had swallowed all the air in the room, and the oxygen only reached you in the form of a soft, weak "thank you" that slipped from your lips in a breathless tone. Steve seemed to appreciate that small effort of gratitude, and something in his eyes softened for a moment. He gently squeezed your shoulders, then stepped away to turn on the faucet, filling the tub with wonderfully hot water. When you tested it moments later, your body relaxed entirely, and your muscles seemed to thank the heat. You tilted your head back as your toes curled in delight. You were sure the salts had done little more than make your skin feel soft, but the pleasant scent had helped you unwind. When you decided it was enough, only because the water had begun to cool and your fingers were starting to wrinkle, you got out of the tub, dried off, and slipped into the soft, comfortable satin pajamas—a beautiful mahogany color that smelled like detergent and fabric softener.

It was paradise. That’s what you thought when you came downstairs to find the table set with iced tea, a salad, and two plates piled high with spaghetti bolognese.

Steve didn’t know how to cook anything else; he could barely make waffles, and his eggs were always dry. But if there was one thing Steve Harrington couldn’t mess up, it was a homemade plate of pasta. You honestly couldn’t understand why he’d never shown off that skill to his dates; you were sure by now Steve Harrington had been off the market for a long time. Part of you—one part you tried not to visit often—wished that little piece of Steve, the one you and the boys knew, would stay in the shadows. Then you’d feel selfish for wanting that. You knew Steve felt lonely, and he deserved to find someone. As you twirled pasta onto your fork, you knew that much because the pasta was delicious, and he had taken the time to make it himself.

You would’ve liked to keep eating, but you knew it was greedy. Steve got up and led you to the room, handing you a long list of reasons why he wouldn’t let you clean, tidy, or do the dishes—starting with the fact that this was all part of an intervention he had orchestrated.

"What’s wrong?" Steve asked when you settled into bed, pulling the cover over yourself.

"Every night I try this, Steve," you said. "I try to relax, close my eyes, and sleep, and I really want to do it now, but I can’t..."

Steve rubbed his nose thoughtfully and nodded as he sat down next to you, ready to listen.

"Look at you," he murmured. "You’re worried because you think you won’t be able to sleep, and that’s exactly why you won’t."

You shook your head. "It’s not that, seriously, Steve. It’s just that I know myself. I know, and it’s maddening. You don’t know how many nights I’ve spent staring at the ceiling, feeling like my body just needs to move. It’s physically impossible for me to lie in a bed, no matter how comfortable it is."

"It’s okay," Steve nodded, thoughtful. "I have an idea. Do you remember when we were watching over Max, making sure Vecna wouldn’t take her at the Wheeler house?" You nodded. "Yeah, Dustin wouldn’t stop talking, and God knows I couldn’t shut him up, so I just gave in and listened to his annoying voice all night. And suddenly—boom! I wake up, and it’s morning."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You fell asleep during your shift watching over Max?"

"Hey, Henderson was still awake, plus nothing happened, right?"

You opened your mouth in disbelief. "Something could’ve happened, Steve."

"But it didn’t!" he laughed, trying to defend himself. "But that’s not the point. The point is, I fell asleep." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms while still sitting in bed. Steve had to admit you looked adorable trying to lecture him about his irresponsibility. "I slept like a damn baby with Dustin’s voice."

You raised an eyebrow, finally understanding.

"So, are you telling me that this whole time, all I’ve needed is Dustin’s voice to sleep soundly?"

"No," he replied, pointing a finger at you with a victorious smile. "My voice, baby. My voice will make you sleep like a baby tonight." He then stood up and motioned for you to settle back into bed. You looked at him, hiding a laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Look, right now you think it’s funny, but when you wake up in the morning feeling rested, I’ll have the decency not to tell you it was all because of me."

You smiled, adjusting your hair.

"Oh, Steve, thanks so much, that’s so thoughtful of you," you laughed, but the laugh quickly died when you saw Steve start to settle in next to you in bed. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his hand to look at you.

"What are you doing?"

"I’m just gonna settle in next to you and talk to you. The only rule is, you can’t talk; you’ll close your eyes and listen to my voice."

Bossy.

You nodded silently and closed your eyes. You heard Steve sigh, but you didn’t look at him again. After all, he’d gone to all this trouble, so you would cooperate. You’d do your part.

And then Steve started talking. He talked for at least an hour about his life, his parents, and what he wanted to do in the future, once he graduated and became a cop, taking care of the town again with Hopper as his boss. Damn, it would be hard to follow the old man’s orders, but he’d accept the challenge. He didn’t stop, even when your breathing became rhythmic, signaling you were finally falling asleep. Steve didn’t stop watching you, stretching out his arm to turn down the volume on the ambient noise. He kept watching you as the sound of crickets filtered in from the backyard, blending with the croaking of frogs in a whispered melody.

He couldn’t stop looking at you.

Steve watched your eyelashes brush your cheeks. The air moved in and out through your slightly parted lips as you breathed. He looked at your nose, tracing imaginary lines over your face, following them with his gaze as if he were redrawing you. It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t rest; that it was so hard for you. Steve had seen you sleep soundly in the most difficult places and under the most critical circumstances. You were perfect under pressure. Something told him you’d rather face Vecna as an enemy than any internal demon haunting your mind. He’d seen more fear on your face at the thought of another sleepless night than when one of the Demodogs that attacked Hopper’s old cabin had pinned you down and drooled over your face as if deciding how you’d taste.

Steve struck him right in the middle of the neck with his bat, not stopping until Dustin told him the guy was more than dead, impaled on the wooden floor. He didn’t know it then, but he would’ve killed any monster for you. Even the one that lived tormenting you in your mind.

"Thanks," he finally spoke, reaching out with his other hand to stroke your hair. "You’ve always looked out for us, and that’s an understatement," he admitted. "I think you try so hard because you haven’t been able to take care of yourself the way you should," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across your face. "Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you."

You had made everyone fulfill their promise in the hotel room. They’d each been given separate rooms, but trauma unifies, and no one could stand to be apart; everyone gathered in Eddie’s room and spent hours together. Afterward, when things calmed down and they were interviewed by men in black suits with serious expressions, they were sent to a high-security clinic where Owen was waiting to perform physical exams. None of the scars had fully healed; Eddie had to get skin grafts on his abdomen, and Max had to undergo rehabilitation to walk normally again.

"It’s not enough," you told Owen when he gave everyone the all-clear with prescriptions for the best free medicine. The man raised his gaze from his clipboard to look at you through his glasses. "We need therapy."

"Kid..." Hopper’s tired voice came from behind you, but you stopped him firmly.

"No," you turned to face him and then looked at Owen for a few seconds. "He smelled like a distillery even before the first Demogorgon attack," you reminded everyone. "How do you think he’ll be once all the adrenaline from this is gone? Hopper needs therapy. We all do. Max almost lost her eyesight; Eddie came back from the dead. You can’t say everything’s fine and send us back to a town where everyone will keep judging us, no matter what." Owen opened his mouth, but you weren’t ready to stop speaking. "You weren’t there. You don’t know what we went through. We literally prevented a dimensional-level catastrophe that wasn’t our responsibility, Owen. We’re owed."

Truth be told, none of you, except you, thought therapy was a good idea. A monster had used your worst nightmares and traumas to get rid of you. You didn’t want to have to open your heart to another stranger once a week, only for them to take advantage of it. But you had been firm in making everyone stick to the commitment, and against all odds, they agreed and completed their therapy sessions as they should. Even Mike, who had resisted extreme measures to the heart-to-heart talk his therapist suggested, finally gave in. You had earned the trust of those kids, Steve saw it. And he had to admit that was part of the reason he sometimes felt jealous. It was pathetic to admit it—an adult jealous of kids—but damn, it would feel nice if one day one of those hugs you gave to Will Byers was meant for him.

"You’re going to a lot of trouble for her," Dustin told Steve the next morning while chewing loudly on a raspberry.

"Hey human vacuum, stop eating someone else’s breakfast. This isn’t for us."

"You see? This is what I mean! I could be planning a new D&D campaign that would surprise Eddie, and he’d be kissing my ass for the next decade, but here I am helping you impress a girl."

"It’s not to impress her; she finally slept more than eight hours and needs to eat," Steve began to answer while pouring some of Robin’s pancake mix onto the hot pan. "And let me remind you, I’m the one driving thousands of miles so you and your ‘Phoebe Cates-level’ sexy girlfriend—who, by the way, I seriously doubt—can see each other. So, I’d appreciate it if you stopped eating her food and helped me with this like I asked."

Dustin furrowed his brow but kept adding raspberries to the batter anyway.

"You know? I always thought you and Robin had something," Steve rolled his eyes and sighed. "Then, for a moment, I thought you and Nancy would get back together from the way you stupidly stared at her. But now this makes more sense."

Steve took a little bit of the batter that splashed on his finger and tasted it.

"Yeah? Why’s that?"

Dustin, focused on his work, shrugged.

"When you and Robin are together, you joke like you, and I do, and I refuse to think you're into me."

Steve made a disgusted face.

"Gross, man, stop."

"That, and when you looked at Nancy, you suffered, Steve. You were the saddest, most miserable..."

"Don’t be so kind, you’ll make me cry."

"...pathetic, and depressing human being." Dustin ignored his friend and handed him the bowl full of pancake batter. "But with her, you’re happy; you smile. You don’t have to pretend to be cool all the time, and you really talk to her. Plus, you take care of her, which is good because you’ve been breathing down my neck and acting like my mom for too long. I didn’t want to tell you, but you were suffocating me, and you finding a girlfriend would be great for my individuality, Steve."

Steve flipped the pancake to brown the other side while making a face.

"I get it, Henderson, you need space, and I’ll give it to you as soon as you help me with the coffee and leave."

Dustin scratched his nose and coughed. "Idiot."

Dustin was right; you brought out the best in him. Steve could talk to you without feeling like he had to impress you all the time. You made him feel butterflies in his stomach, but you didn’t make him act like an idiot. It was too hard for him to figure out if what he felt for you was a strong friendship or something more. He missed you during the weeks you were studying at the university, and when you came back to Hawkins, you were never close enough to him.

"I think it would be a big step date her instead of going on dates with a bunch of girls that end when you drop them off at their houses the next morning," Robin had told him one day when he decided to tell her his plan of helping you, while they were reorganizing the shelves at Family Video.

It had survived the earthquake, and Keith didn’t want to deal with the business anymore. Steve and Robin decided to take over; it wasn’t bad to have a business and extra money in their pockets. Max, Will, and Dustin took turns after school and officially entered the workforce, earning some cash they could spend on whatever those little gremlins spent their money on now.

"Robin, it’s already pretty weird to have an ex in your friend circle; two would be excessive, and it’s a risk I’m not willing to take."

His best friend let out a teasing laugh.

"Goofball, you just admitted you like her."

Obviously, Steve liked you, he thought while plating the pancakes after getting rid of Dustin and sending him off to Eddie’s house to plan their new campaign or something. Steve liked a lot of things and people, otherwise, he wouldn’t surround himself with them. The issue was figuring out what kind of feeling he had for you. It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to have it figured out except him. Plus, even if he did figure it out, what about you? What did you feel for him?

Steve was your damn hero, you thought as you stretched between the soft sheets of the most comfortable bed you’d ever tried and opened your eyes after a huge, unashamed yawn. You stared at the ceiling of the room, trying to contain your bliss. You looked at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed and quietly laughed when you saw that it read exactly noon. You’d slept more than twelve hours; that was more than you usually rested in a week at the university. You raised your fist in victory and got out of bed to brush your teeth and freshen up a bit before racing down the stairs two at a time to find Steve on the first floor. You found him squeezing orange juice in the kitchen when he looked at you, somewhat startled. You walked toward him with a smile, then gave him a big hug, burying your face in his chest and feeling him slowly return the embrace.

"Thanks, Steve. I really rested."

You pulled away from him and looked around. On a tray, there was corn syrup, raspberry pancakes, and freshly scrambled eggs.

"You made all this?"

Steve scratched his neck, somewhat embarrassed.

"Dustin came by to help me," he admitted, then looked at your rested face and couldn’t help but smile.

"That’s sweet of him."

If you had heard his string of complaints, you wouldn’t have found it so sweet. But he wouldn’t tell you that.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!"

Steve saw the spark in your eyes; even your smile was different when you rested. As you ate the breakfast with pleasure and asked about his graduation from the police academy, Steve watched you carefully, making sure you didn’t notice. Partly because he didn’t want you to think it was strange, but also because the small shot of adrenaline he got from doing so was addictive. He didn’t know what was happening. He’d known you for years, and you’d never been on his radar. He knew that if he tried hard enough, he could count the number of times you’d talked in high school on one hand. You had never been attractive to him in a way that would make him want to be friends, let alone anything more. It’s true that if he tried to remember, he would say you always had that pleasant smile and those big eyes that seemed to read whoever they saw. You were also pleasant; you never paid attention to Tommy and Carol and didn’t seem to care about fitting into the social hierarchy of school. You didn’t seem to mind being friends with him even after the Hawkins attack. Although it’s true you were always kind, he couldn’t say you became friends until a year or two ago. Steve had lived a life without you, but now, he found it hard to imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

Your heart seemed to hurt. It was strange because you were happy, very happy; you had a bath with aromatic salts, a nice dinner, and most importantly, a good rest and a delicious breakfast. But your heart hurt. Today was a good day, and you didn’t want to be ungrateful, but you wouldn’t always have this; and you weren’t talking about the shower, the food, or the oh-so-comfortable bed the size of a Cadillac. No, it was this—Steve. You couldn’t help but feel that your happiness had an expiration date, and it was very soon. Steve was being so nice to you that it hurt.

It hurt your stomach, your chest, and your mind.

You tried not to let it show, though, and in the afternoon, when Steve dropped you off in front of your house after spending the day lounging in his living room, eating leftovers from the night before, and watching comfort movies like The Breakfast Club and The Princess Bride (which Eddie had gotten through a not-quite-legal but also not-illegal way, since it had only been in theaters for a few months), you tried not to look at him too much or count the freckles on his neck because it was real torture. He had looked at you with those eyes and smiled while saying goodbye. You saw him watch you until you entered your house and waved goodbye one last time. He drove off, and you stood by the window because it was almost physically impossible for you to tear yourself away.

“So?” Your mother’s voice came from behind you, and that was the only thing that made you move. You turned to face her, still holding the bag with the soft pajamas that Steve had insisted you didn’t return.

“Steve told me his plan, did you manage to sleep?”

You nodded, and your mom came over to hug you while letting out little squeals of joy. You hid your face in her neck and began to cry. It took a few seconds before your mom noticed. Damn Steve Harrington and his consideration to tell your mom about his plan. Damn, damn him.

“What’s wrong?” your mom asked, concerned, cradling your face.

“I need help, mom,” you sniffled, and the sentence was barely understandable.

You saw your mom raise her eyebrows and nod.

“Of course, but what’s wrong? What are you feeling?”

You tried to breathe and put your hand over your chest.

“F-fear.”

Your mom’s expression softened, making her look younger when she seemed to understand what you meant.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. No.” She kissed your forehead and wiped your tears away with a small, comforting smile. “You’re in love.”

Yes, at least Steve had recognized the symptoms.

[russellius]

2023 ITALIAN GP : Drivers Parade | George driving once again <3

[die-with-me-dazai]

Here’s your daily reminder that sh*tkoku stans don’t see dazai on his own, don’t look at his trauma, his story, his personality, only a good self projection to get with ch**y* and if you call yourself a dazai stan and ship sh*tkoku, then I have some news for you ❤️

[autumnoakes]

i can see why people say re6 is bad but honestly i'm having a good time watching these cutscenes

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.

You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.

“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.  

“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”

You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”

He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”

You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”

He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”

You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”

His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”

You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”

He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”

“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.

You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.

He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…” 

You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?

“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”

His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”

You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?

It’s not right.

“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”

Not your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”

Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.

“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”

He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.  

You love him, you realize then with a shudder.

You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.

“What do you say?” he asks in hope.

Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.

“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.” 

You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.

“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions. 

Don’t worry—he’s here to help.

“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite. 

“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”

You hang in his hold, leaning after it.

But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”

Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.

“Everywhere.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[mrsbarnesblog]

the "it" couple

masterlist

requests are open

summary: you and Rafe being the hottest couple on the island

word count: 1.3k.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of nude pictures, Rafe is reader's first everything, you're both lovesick

a/n: my obsession with soft and painfully in love Rafe is not curable at this point. but like could you imagine having him all to yourself?? ughhh the things i'd let him do to me😩

Everyone knew that there are couples that, at first glance, give you the impression that they just have really good sex. Like they are so hot and perfectly compliment each other, with a certain vibe oozing out of them, especially when they are together. 

You and Rafe were that couple. 

Before you started dating, no one ever considered that two polar opposites like you might even coexist. You were a kook, but still completely different from Rafe and his little gang. You were pretty, but more on the quiet side, never showing off or bothering anybody.

Rafe, on the other hand, was mean and sarcastic to everyone and everything. It was a good thing that you put him in his place the first time he talked to you, making it clear that you are not having his shit. And also making Rafe instantly interested and following you like a puppy.

You were annoyingly teasing and flirting with each other, and everyone tried not to get involved in whatever was going on. It was your first experience with a guy, because before that, nobody was really making their shots, or, at least, you never paid enough attention to notice it, choosing to focus on yourself. But with Rafe, it felt fun and so damn easy. 

Your first kiss set everything in its place because you finally gave in to your hidden emotions. It made sense why you were always arguing and pestering each other—you simply craved attention from one another and it was the easiest way to get it. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s rough edges softened, especially around you, and he was so affectionate and craved you around him 24/7. Though, knowing that you’ve never been in relationships before, he never pushed you to do anything, just following your pace. 

But after your first time happened in the third month of dating, after the ice melted and your insecurities fully disappeared, Rafe almost got another version of his girlfriend. 

If he thought that you couldn’t be better, then he was wrong. 

He never understood his friends who said that they had to almost beg their girlfriends to have sex, mostly because Rafe had never been in actual relationships before. But it made even less sense for him because you, seemingly, had the same energy and high sex drive as him. 

The first few times may have been slightly awkward with you still learning and trying to understand your own body, but once you got confident, you became unstoppable. 

Whether it was early morning, the middle of the day, or way past your bedtime, you were ready to have sex right away, straddling Rafe's legs or luring him into a kiss while your hands slipped under his pants.  

It was crazy how much you both wanted each other. It was a perfect fucking match to have someone with exactly the same needs. You probably have been bent over every single flat surface in the house and not a single room was safe from the two of you. He wanted you all to himself and he could go hours just worshiping your body and fucking you into bliss. 

You were almost glued together, never coming to an event alone. Rafe was so obsessed with the way you looked, with your smell, and with the feeling of your skin on his, so he always had to touch you one way or another. His friends teased him that he was absolutely pussy whipped for you and he had never denied it. They also started calling you Mrs. Cameron because you acted like a married couple and neither of you were against that nickname.

To say more, the idea of that made Rafe so feral for you, so he didn’t let you get out of bed the following day. Not that you complained, though.

Rafe loved sneaking out with you. Whenever you two had to visit a gala with your families, he always snatched you from the main room to drag you to the bathroom or another hidden place to have a quickie or to burry his head under your dress because you were too hot to resist. Yeah, maybe other people noticed it, giving you their usual politely awkward smiles, but neither of you care. 

On his birthday, you gave him the best fucking gift, which was a stack of your naked polaroid pictures. You were really nervous to do that, thinking that Rafe might react differently, but he reminded you once again why he was your perfect match. After looking through the photos several times, he literally attacked you, throwing you back on the bed and giving you the best orgasms of your life. 

Since that day, one of the less explicit pictures of your ass has been placed in his wallet.

You were officially the “it” couple on the island, with everyone either admiring or being jealous of that spark, which never seemed to diminish. Everyone saw the way the Rafe Cameron gave you heart eyes, soft smiles and gentle kisses. The way he held you close to himself, protecting you, taking care of you, and treating you like a queen.

Some people told you that it was only the excitement of a new relationship, but after a few years of dating, with a promise ring on your finger, it was still there. You still craved each other's touch; you still craved being together whenever it was possible, always going on dates and trips, attending all of Kook’s events, but mostly spending lazy days in your shared house. Sex was even better than before—more passionate, fun, hot and full of unconditional love.

Despite the gossip on the island, Rafe didn't get “bored” of you. No, over time, he became addicted to you because you felt like home, and there was nothing better than being with you. 

He didn't need any other women. And he still couldn't grasp the idea of cheating. If he had you, then why on earth would he do that? Every time he came home, the best person in the world and the best sex of his life were in that exact location, so he never complained about anything.

You were his afrodisiac and whether you were in full glam, in a bikini on the beach or in his old t-shirt with messy hair, he couldn’t just keep his hands to himself and not kiss the air out of you. 

He liked how you stayed at home, doing whatever you wanted and treating yourself while he worked. You always greeted him with homemade food, but more importantly, you acted as if you had not seen him in months.

You were waiting on the porch or finishing up in the kitchen, but when you saw him, you ran and jumped into his arms and pulled him into a kiss. It always melted Rafe’s worries and bad mood away, as his shoulders sagged in relief from being in your arms again. 

You always ended up in your bedroom, with you on or under him, while your hands were tugging at each other’s closes. Rafe knew that it would eventually end up with him finally putting a baby in you—something that more and more flooded his mind—but for the foreseeable future, he first had to officially make you his Mrs. Cameron.

And the red box with the big ass diamond ring, which was currently sitting in the drawer, was just waiting for the perfect moment.  

[ddejavvu]

Mean!Logan who absolutely will NOT kiss you on the mouth while he’s fucking you. You’re crying and begging and so so desperate for it but he just will not give in, loves to watch you cry and cry even while your whole body shakes and your eyes roll back from how deep he is in you

Logan won't kiss you

send me mean!logan requests!

contents/warnings: mean!logan, teasing, dacryphilia, don't like don't read.

a/n: anon i hope you know this made me moan. shit the first line almost had me creaming my jeans. thank you <33333333333

It's a tease, being given so much and yet nothing at all. Logan's strong hips are steadily thrusting against your own, driving his cock in and out of your cunt that begs for nothing more, but you're being held tantalizingly close to the precipice of your orgasm solely from the denial of a kiss.

Logan's mouth is heaven.

Whether against your own or against another part of you, your sensitive nipples or your throbbing pussy, his mouth has always brought you to completion. You yearn for it now, with sharp aches and pleas from your drooling cunt as he fucks into you, but he refuses to give you what you want- what you need.

"What's'a matter?" He drawls, and by the condescension in his voice, by the sharp, rigid smirk on the mouth of his that you want so bad, you know he knows, "What gives, you don't like me or somethin'?"

"Logan," You whine for mercy, tears beading in your eyes as you grip his biceps and attempt to hoist yourself up to kiss him. He deflects skillfully, pushing you back down to the mattress.

"No, no, don't be greedy. My dick isn't enough? Looks like it is." He muses, eyeing the way your cunt slobbers on his length, coating it generously in your thick, slick arousal.

"Look at you, you're ruined," Logan scoffs, panting through the continuous motions of his hips, "And you still want more."

"I want a kiss," You feel pitiful whining like that, and he laughs like you are.

"Oh, princess wants a kiss, is that it? All this cock and what you really want is my mouth?"

"Yes," You gasp, tears flooding down your cheeks at the contempt in his eyes, even if its staged, "Please Logan, please, I jus- I just want one kiss, please." You try yet again to raise your head, but he won't take the bait- he sneers like you're nothing but an annoyance.

"No." He decides simply, hips only snapping faster and faster, harder and harder into your cunt, "You have enough. Use it."

You do. You clench around his cock, thighs squeezed together so that your entrance is as tight as possible. You feel every inch of his impressive length as it pounds in and out of your pussy, you feel pleasure in every fiber of your being, and yet- it's the visual of Logan's tongue flicking out over his lips after a hefty exhale that finally sends your brain and body into overdrive.

His lips, thin and a shade pinker than his skin, look so enticing, and the way that his tongue laves over them leaving translucent saliva behind sends sparks between your legs like nothing you've ever felt without Logan's mouth. You wish it was yours, you wish his tongue was dipping into your mouth the way it does so often, licking every inch of your skin, tasting every part of you there ever has been.

You cum hard and you cum almost painfully, writhing on the bed covered in tears and sweat. There's surely a pool of slick beneath your ass on the bed from where your cunt has drooled onto the sheets but Logan will clean it up later- if you're lucky, from you with the mouth you're still fantasizing about.

"There, that wasn't hard," Logan hums, crooning tenderly like he's taking care of you as he finally dips down to press a firm kiss against the slack ring of your mouth. It's late, but better than never. You exhale shakily as he kisses you, a balm to soothe the hurt feelings of his denial, and he chuckles as you twitch beneath him. He leaves his cock buried in your warm, twitching cunt- he hasn't finished himself, but he'll feed his cock down your throat later- anytime you cum and he doesn't you offer to help him out. Watching the way that your eyes blink hazily at him post-kiss is certainly helping him along, and he won't take long up against the warm wet seal of your mouth.

"Poor thing is sensitive." He nudges his nose against your own, muscles bulging as he keeps himself hovering over you, "Can't handle being used, hm? Gotta be loved?"

"I love you," You whisper pitifully, chasing his mouth with a desperate, sticky kiss of your own, "Logan, I- I love you, mm-"

"Alright, alright." He mumbles through your sloppy attempts at kissing him, muffled by your lips, "Alright, crybaby, 'love you too."

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung