#I NEED HIM SO BADDDDD

[st4vk1nmybra1n]

LOVE POTIONS !

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader Wc: 6.5k! Cont: implied fem!reader, reader is a witch! Suguru geto is an advisor for the king (who's Gojo obviously), kinda suggestive? Author's note: this has been in my draft for AGES and it feels fitting to post it right now! Happy Halloween to those of you who celebrate 🎃 hope you guys enjoy this! Also I'm like half asleep rn so if this is sloppy I'm going to punch myself<3 Hope u guys are on dark mode too btw cuz..

“Good heavens, Satoru will be paying me extra for this,” Suguru, king Gojo’s loyal advisor, grumbled under his breath as he weeded out through the crowds of the bustling village, attempting to look far and wide for that one bakery his friend adored. This was a common errand Suguru had to run, though it didn't help lessen the irritation.

His demeanor confident, stature tall, and figure clad in neat, pressed clothes only the most respected would wear.

Suguru was a man of much lure, put simply.

His father was a commander for the Gojo kingdom for his whole life, and so naturally, Suguru and Satoru grew up together. Suguru himself had been expected to take over his father's position, as would Satoru. The black haired male was talented, without a doubt, and it showed in the way he sparred. But Suguru's expertise ventured outside of the battlefield. His time was usually spent in the library, reading about different social, political, economic reforms, cultural norms, and all in all, Suguru was a natural when it came to social environments.

Satoru noticed this talent from the get-go.

So of course, Satoru, being good friends with Suguru, pushed for Suguru to be more of an advisor, persisting that it was something he needed. Suguru found himself inclined towards the idea more than being on the battlefield, but both his father and Satoru's father had been rather unamused by the notion. Satoru was persuasive, though.

And with a little more pushing, Suguru was Satoru's right hand man, second to him in command.

And while it was intriguing and vital for the most part, it often included errands like the ones he was currently running.

“Oh, dear!” Suguru snaps out of his thoughts with a jolt, having bumped into someone while he was lost in thought. As he looked down with the intent of apologizing, he stopped short in his tracks.

Glancing up at him was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Thick lashes covered equally striking eyes, and Suguru felt his breath catching in his throat. The expression on your face was innocent, in a way that made Suguru's body heat up. He'd never seen you around in the time he grew up here, but if he had to guess from your appearance, he'd say you were the infamous witch the village spoke of. And to finally see you in the flesh..

“My sincerest apologies, miss. I got lost in thought, please forgive me,” Suguru sincerely apologized, holding out his hand to you. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile as you grabbed his hand in your own, and Suguru was acutely aware of just how soft your hands were.

“It's quite alright. It was partly my own mistake. My apologies, lord advisor,” your sultry voice murmured to Suguru, and two words flashed in his mind as he thought of your voice. Hauntingly bewitching.

Your voice was like driving a wedge into his skin, and seeping a magical healing liquid right over it. While it disgruntled him horribly, the relief that flooded his body was not normal. Suguru couldn't place his finger on it, but something about you was making him feel dizzy.

As you stood up with the help of his hand, he took note of your attire. A dark, long dress draped over your body, cinching and accentuating your waist with the deep, midnight blue corset you wore over the cloth. The sleeves of the dress were long, the sleeves stuck to your skin til your elbows, flaring out right after, adding a certain charm to your look. The sleeves were a net material, and the slight translucency made his mouth water at the cheeky peek of skin. Your nails were painted a dark, shiny black, sharpened like that of a cat's. You wore shiny, polished boots, carrying a dark bag over your shoulder.

“Lord advisor?” You snapped him out of his thoughts once more, tilting your head with a slight look of worry; plump, reddened lips pulled up in a pout of concern. Suguru needed to get away, as his senses were clouded with you. You, and your sweet scent, your beautiful features, your beautiful voice, and oh, your hand that was still in his.

“My sincerest apologies. I must go now, take care of yourself,” he rushed out the words, beginning his walk back towards the bakery.

“Until we meet again, my lord,” you smiled, eyes creasing up as you gave him a cheeky wave, a catty tone in your cooing voice not missed by Suguru.

“Oh, I'd be careful of her, lord advisor. She may end up.. haunting you,” a voice spoke up from his side, and he glanced up, raising a brow. “Oh, no, nothing! Just a word of advice..” the voice continues, nodding a farewell to him, and Suguru pauses, unsure of how to feel.

That night, as Suguru sat in his room with a glass of wine, he still couldn't let go of the fragments of your being lingering around in his mind. It was like if he closed his eyes for a moment too long, your soft figure would pop up in his mind, obscuring every other thought in his mind.

“A witch?” He mumbled to himself, running a hand through his thick hair. Witches were not uncommon during the era of royalty, and he'd read plenty of historical books involving witches and witchcraft. It was never a major subject in these writings, but they existed. Just as you did. But were you truly a witch? You just seemed so.. sweet. So nice, so beautiful–but perhaps that was a part of your charm–then Suguru must see to it that he has a chat with you.

For the betterment of the kingdom, he justifies himself as he lays down in bed that night, head filled with you.

Meanwhile, you yourself weren't faring too well yourself. Clutching your head in your hands, you resisted the urge to do anything, simply letting your thoughts dwell on the handsome advisor. You had your sights on him for the longest while, and the interaction today–no matter how short–had you swooning for the man, even more than you ever were. You bit your nail as you grinned, planning out your next “accident” with the man.

Perhaps casting a spell wouldn't be too bad. Maybe you'll save that for later!

Not that you were egotistical. Actually, maybe you were a little self assured, but what's the harm in that? You were very scrutinized for your craft, and it was ironic, really. Those who turned their noses up at you, judging you from between the slits that their eyes had formed into, were the same people coming into your abode, looking for a way to ruin the lives of the precious companion or the loving spouse they knew. Did you ever turn them down?

Of course not. Easy money is money, at the end of the day, isn't it?

You didn't have much of a care for what anyone had to say or how anyone felt because really, people talk. Whether you love it or hate it, they talk and will continue to talk. So you rejoiced in the attention. The rumors, the conversations, the path that would clear up in a rush whenever you walked. You laughed in the faces of those people who ‘spoke out’ against your unbecoming actions, knowing they would visit your home with some dazzling jewels, some spider eyes and herbs, and the brightest, shiniest coins in their houses, imploring that you try and understand that they respected you, they just had to maintain a reputation.

Whatever that meant, not that you bothered with it.

As you blew out the fire under your cauldron, you covered the top of it with a fabric, allowing it to cool. As you walked towards your bedroom, you heard a meow from the corner of the dim room, glowing eyes peering up at you. “Well hello there, my lovely!” You cooed out at your cat, watching as she jumped into your arms once you sat onto the plush of your bed, your grin widening as she blended in with your clothes, her black fur camouflaging her expertly.

“Could you fetch me some frog legs tomorrow, deary?” You mumbled to the feline, and she purred, bumping her head against your hand that was petting her soft fur. “You're just the sweetest, aren't you?” You smiled, kissing her head as you blew out your bedside candle, snuggling into your bed for the night, your adorable cat snuggled up on the edge of the bed.

The next day, you wandered around the markets, searching for some ingredients for a new recipe you wanted to try. Who knew witchcraft could turn you into a good cook?

“I don't sell to witches like you,” a shopkeeper sneered at you, scoffing.

You smiled innocently, batting your lashes. “What, you sell to the uglier witches with the wrinkles and the green skin?” You questioned, canines peeking out as your smile grew.

“Scram. I don't want you using my crops for your little spells. You're pathetic, truly.” The man argued back, growing more and more angrier by the moment.

“Oh, I wish some carrots and tomatoes could craft up a spell that would make you less of a whiney vermin, but alas, vegetables are unfortunately not the most helpful in my craft. I prefer using hair, blood, maybe frog eggs, or the scat of a mutt. But that's only if I really don't like you. And I really don't like you,” you mused, shaking your head at him.

The shopkeeper, appalled at the nerve you had to even say anything to his face, raised his hand, ready to strike you. But before he could, a veiny hand interrupted his wrist that inched closer and closer to its target.

“I wouldn't lay my hands on a lady, sir.” Suguru, who had been observing from the side, stepped in, eyes remaining sharp.

The other man cowers at the sight, mumbling an apology. “Advisor Geto.. I sincerely apologize, but this woman.. she ruins the lives of our people, you must understand! She is filth that stains our country, she's a good for nothing wench!” He yells out, brows furrowed at you.

“Hey! You people shower once in a blue moon! However, I happen to shower everyday! I know you think it is because I'm working with blood but it's actually because I'm not disgusting! Unlike the likes of you! I am not filth!” You defend rather unseriously, already fed up with the conversation. The shopkeeper gaped, glancing up at Suguru, as if to ask if you were serious.

“That's enough from you. Give the lady the vegetables. I'll pay.” Suguru sighs, crossing his arms.

You nod, mirroring his stance. “Saves you the blood money, as you like to call it.” You add with a hum, and the man at the stall has to stop himself from shutting down his stall as a whole.

As he hands you the vegetables, you take them into your large bag, squealing in excitement as Suguru paid for the vegetables. You lean up towards him, hands grasping his muscular arm. “Oh, why thank you, my lord! It's tough out here for a lady like myself!” You smiled sweetly, and Suguru raised a brow.

“A lady like yourself? Like one who hexes those around her?” He asked sarcastically, and you let out a laugh, shaking your head.

“What would I gain from causing harm to people for no reason, my lord?” You questioned him back as you both walked towards another stall, this time purchasing some bread from a lady who surprisingly did not refuse you. She was apparently the only one who realized that business is business regardless of whom you're selling to. Which is why you always give her an extra coin.

“How do you think I can afford to live in this era, my lord? Surely you understand why I'm even able to buy anything at all.” You pointed out once more, keeping your arm looped around his.

Suguru let out a hum, catching onto your drift. “Because you have people who seek you out. Isn't that right?” and you smile, giving him nothing else to go off of.

“Are you occupied for the day, my lord?” You inquire with a glance up at him, and he ponders for a moment, shaking his head.

“No. I have a free day.”

And your smile grows wider, somehow even sweeter in Suguru's eyes. “Then, may I be so gracious as to invite you to a meal at my house? I assure you, I'm plenty good at cooking! I'll leave out the potions and spells just for you.” You give him a cheeky wink, and he weighs out his options.

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt.” He shrugs, and your smile seems much more genuine for a moment.

“Perfect! I'm making sandwiches and soup today! I hope you're okay with that. And with cats. I have a cute little feline friend waiting for me at home.” You spoke lightheartedly, glancing up at him. “Would you be alright with coming right now? Or would you perhaps wish to come later?”

“Now is fine. Lead the way.” he holds out a hand towards the path, and you nod, looking straight ahead as the people around you stared in awe. The king's advisor? And the town's witch? Walking together, arm in arm?! Surely something must be wrong here. The people really couldn't believe their eyes. They never expected such an outcome, and you simply walked on, not paying any mind to them.

“Does witchcraft run in the family?” Suguru asks as you guys separate from the others, and you hum, smiling.

“My father was a medic. Mother practiced witchcraft, however. It was definitely an amusing combination.” You nod, glancing up at him through your lashes.

Interesting.

“So, you chose witchcraft as what you wished to do?” He asked further, and you raised a brow.

Smile still as cheeky as ever, you asked. “My, can I not do both?” You asked innocently, and Suguru huffed out a laugh.

How ironic.

“Medics save lives. Witchcraft takes them,” he answers, sharp eyes meeting your own. Suguru was having a hard time even understanding what you meant, but he tried either way.

“And what makes you say that? A medic may not always save a life. Witchcraft is not all hexes and curses, there's more to it than just death and doom. A lot more,” you argue back, scoffing at his words.

He raises a brow this time, as if amused. “How come?”

“Well, for obvious reasons, I think it's safe to say that in most cases you want the other person to suffer. Or if it's a different type of spell, it's something unhealthy. Or a minor inconvenience. Something of the sorts,” you explain, and Suguru nods his head.

“To that I ask, is that not cruel? Do you feel any remorse or regret in these actions?” he continues, and you hum.

Of course, many would ask such a question. The ironic part is that many don't realize that the only reason you're even able to keep this up is because of the monstrous emotions that they foster in their hearts. Greed, lust, envy. And the most inherent part of it all; love. Love was the driving force for many of these scenarios. The people of your town loved to parade about their morality in the face of their own peers, only to turn around and ask favors from you.

Maybe you were instilling a way for them to release their hatred into an outlet, but even if you weren't doing what you do, they'd still find a way.

Looking back at Suguru, you raise an earnest brow. “And to that I ask you, am I really the evil here? Perhaps I'm giving them a means for their malicious intent but really, are your people not the ones vying for a chance to see their so-called friends suffering, right outside my doorstep? Remember, I'm not forcing or coercing anyone into seeking me out. I can manage very well without customers, I could wreak havoc. But I exist, and that is enough reason for those that are desperate.” You grin, and Suguru sighs, opting to glance around the overgrown grass near your home.

Ostracized by your own people, huh? Suguru thinks to himself, having suspected as much.

“Here we are. Isn't it just beautiful here?” You grin, guiding him towards the entrance of your rather concealed home.

Typical, he sighed.

As you entered the home, turning to speak to the king's advisor, you were rudely interrupted by him suddenly grabbing onto you, pinning you against your door.

A hand tangles into your hair, pulling it hard enough to glare at your face. “So, reveal your intentions. You think it is that easy to bait me into your home and have your way? Seduce me? Tell me, witch. What is it that you want from me? From the king?” He declares, not even asking, just demanding an answer.

And instead of feeling fear, you felt.. exhilarated. His grip on your scalp was deliciously painful, and you hastily bit your lip to hold back a noise that alluded to your arousal.

“Sir Suguru, if I may?” You asked, and he blinked, urging you to continue. “What makes you think I've bad intentions? That my plan is.. not so innocent? What if I feel inclined to you, and wish to chat with you inside my humble abode?”

And Suguru lets out a laugh. A husky, mocking laugh.

“You? A chat with me? An innocent one at that? Let's face it. You've intentions that are far from sweet.” He sneers, and you let out a small whine as he pulls at your hair even more, his other hand pinning your arms against your back, forcing your body into a mean arch.

You squirm against his hold, and he only further tightens it, most likely even bruising you. “My, this is rather raunchy, wouldn't you say, my lord? The hold you have on me is quite.. lewd, if I may observe.. and didn't you chastise the shopkeeper for laying his hands on a lady?” you grinned, and Suguru's eyes sharpened.

“Do you think you're in a position to be joking? You will be punished for the spell you've cast on me.” Your brows raise in surprise at his words, and you turn to face him.

“A spell? On you?” You ask, clearly amused at the thought.

Suguru feels himself getting more and more agitated as you pretend otherwise. “Drop the act. You spoke of love and lust potions earlier. I know you've done something.” He accuses you even further, hissing into your ear.

You feel yourself smiling despite the searing pain coursing through the nerves in your head at his vicious grip, letting out a laugh. “I don't know if I should be flattered that you feel such an attraction to me, or be offended that you've accused me of casting a spell.”

Suguru grits his teeth at your words, letting go of your arms to reach out to grab your cheeks between his large hand, turning your head to face him. As his other hand tightens around your hair, tugging it further to angle your head, he looks deep into your eyes.

“Listen, witch. I am not fooled by you, nor will I believe your stupid excuses. Tell me the truth, and only the truth.” He hisses, venom seeping through each word he spat out.

At the blatant disrespect, you feel your body waver with pleasure. Though, you were feeling a small seed of irritation planted into you. “I understand you're very sharp and quick on your toes, but allow me to explain myself at least.” You mumble out through your squished cheeks, giving him a glance through the side of your eyes.

“Speak. But only under my grasp.” He orders, letting go of your face to continue pinning you against the door.

You let out a sigh, constructing your thoughts into proper sentences. “I'll explain as best as I can. So you think I've casted a spell of seduction on you, my lord? For perhaps trying to manipulate you into doing harm against the king?” You question, but you don't allow him to answer. “I can very much defend my case in all scenarios you can think of.” You state confidently, letting out a sigh. “First, the most important thing to mention is that to cast a spell on you, I'd need very personal information and belongings of yours. Like hair, blood, lashes, and perhaps other bodily fluids,” you grin, and Suguru has to will himself to not feel flustered at your implications.

“And with our one interaction, I could not have gathered any of that. Not nearly enough. And if this were the doing of another person, then we would not be here in the first place. I would come clean and tell you if anyone else has it out for you, I don't gain anything from keeping secrecy. I'm not afraid of outing the business of others when it comes to me, because my business is not one of dignity to begin with,” you answer transparently, and Suguru knows it's most likely not a bluff.

“And for love spells, they're quite weak. To get a stronger one, I need expensive, rare ingredients. And those are usually provided to me by the people seeking out such spells. I don't go out that often to actively search for them. It's much too laborious. A much more effective method is a love potion. It's a spell in the form of a liquid, which can either be given to you in potion form or mixed into another drink or food. And for that you'd need to be consuming something given to you by me. And under the security of being in the palace, it's quite near impossible. And considering the only reason you believe that I've done anything is because of our prior interaction, it wouldn't be wrong of me to say that I've not done anything to you. If I needed to cause harm to this place, it wouldn't be possible without someone influential involved with me. And plus, I grew up here! Why would there be a reason to overthrow the kingdom or turn this place into ruins?” You continue, making points that Suguru knows are not that easy to form a counter argument towards.

“And might I add, even if i were to cast a spell on you somehow, or have you consume a love potion, the effects would be much more severe, I assure you. It wouldn't be fleeted thoughts, it would be primal urges to ravage and ruin me. Or to completely submit and give up your conscience to me.” You add with a small, barely visible smile, and Suguru feels his breath grow more labored at your words. “I can give an example.”

At this, Suguru's attention is caught. “And what would that be?”

“Before we continue, mind letting go of my hair? My scalp is quite strong but I fear you may be stronger. I'd rather not test that.” You jested, and Suguru sighed, letting go of your hair. You let out a moan of relief, breathing out deeply.

“Right. So the royal knight the kingdom had a few years back? The oh-so dedicated knight, ready to give up his life for his king.” you quipped, and Suguru felt his stare harden.

Of course he remembers the knight. Very clearly. He was very dedicated and never showed any signs of anything otherwise. But he'd left very suddenly and got married, abandoning his duties. Was that a result of your doings?

“Well, a lady had visited me in the late hours, expressing her interest in the man. She'd conversed with him a handful of times, but her admiration ran deep. Much too deep. And she asked for a love potion. And so I gave her one, and she mixed it into a blueberry pie for him. And not even a day later, he'd run off with her and marry her. And now the couple has seven children!” You narrated dramatically, finishing off with a closed eye smile, as if happy for their ‘love’ for one another.

“But really, they aren't passionate about having children. That's not why they have children. It's about the act of conceiving children. The process of making a child is what draws the knight to his wife. Little does he know it's a result of a potion,” you huffed, shrugging.

Suguru was bewildered by your words. Not at the fact that you'd done that, but at the fact that you were willing to talk about their.. unhealthy amount of children. In the span of just a little over a decade. As if sensing his shock, you raised a brow. “What? It's true! I think he must've developed a fancying for breeding–” and he cut you off with a hand over your mouth, attempting to think of what to even say to you.

“Him running away was because of you?” he snapped, and you narrowed your eyes.

“No. It was not.” You answer, tone eerily calm. Calmer than your usual cheeky tone. “Because according to the royal law, my business is under fair use. If I've stated the severity of what I sell and have advised them that I will be telling on them if asked, and if I've made it clear that while my witchcraft is effective, any side effects and consequences is their responsibility, then it is fair use. And if you look at the contracts I've made them sign, you'll see that same information. I'm not obligated to keep their business a secret in situations where push comes to shove, and they are okay with that.” you asserted with a certainty that shocked Suguru, and he took a moment to articulate his own thoughts.

“And why would I believe you?” Suguru continued, and you glanced back up, unamused.

“The contracts are all placed in the chest by the corner,” you nod your head towards a chest in the corner of your home, placed by a bookshelf. “And beside that I have books on witchcraft, and a shelf with my own recipes and observations. Feel free to look through everything.” Your hands squirmed around in his now loosened grip on your wrists, and Suguru paused, taking note of the ingredients stacked on the walls. In the opposite corner, there was a fireplace, with another fireplace beside it, this time with a cauldron on top. For your witchcraft, he hypothesized.

“Those are some items I've collected over the years. For rare spells, common spells, all sorts. Some are given to me by my customers, some I've collected on my own over the years. While I can usually find a lot of items out in the open, some of them involve certain.. parts of each item which I'd have to source from the people of the town. And those can be quite a hefty penny. I wouldn't be gaining much profit from making a love potion to use on you.” You explained as Suguru let go of you, rubbing your wrists that were now bruised. Not that you were complaining, you found it exciting that the advisor had marked you in such a way. Suguru continued looking around, stiffening as he felt something rub against his leg. With a quick glance down, Suguru's eyes squint, taking note of a small, fluffy black cat rubbing up against his leg.

“That's my cat. She seems to like you. She must take after me,” you zinged, and Suguru raised a brow, trying not to show his amusement at the situation. “Here, let me take your coat, lord Suguru.” You grin, helping him shrug off his coat. Suguru tries not to squirm at the feeling of your hands roaming over his muscled back and arms. You take the coat onto your arm, then hang it over the coat hanger you had by the doorway.

“I'll be looking around, then.” Suguru announced, making his way towards the bookshelf. He begins to look through your recipe books. He noted the way you wrote down each spell with a diagram of each ingredient, fixed with witty comments and doodles. Your recipe books oozed with the same charm that you possessed, and Suguru found it rather.. entertaining, to say the least.

“Could I get you some water? Perhaps something to eat? The sandwiches won't take time to make, and you can stick around for soup!” You spoke with a delight in your tone, carefully filling up a glass with water for him.

Suguru glanced up at you, and this time you could make out the playful look on his face, just barely. “And what if you've cast a spell on it, or worse, mixed it with a potion?” he asked, tone sarcastic.

You let out a euphoric laugh, the sound so beautiful that Suguru could listen to it for days on end. Carefully, you bring the glass up to your lips, taking a small sip. The water drips down your lips, down your neck. You smile, raising a brow. “I'm not immune to any spells I create. There. I took a sip, it's safe to consume.” You cheekily commented, handing him the glass. The sheen gloss that you'd layered over your lips had transferred onto the cup, and Suguru glanced away as he took a sip from the water, lips delicately placed over the same spot that was marked with your lipstick.

As expected, the water goes down easily through his throat, and he's surprisingly not hexed! Wiping the excess water from his lips, Suguru hands you back the cup to continue skimming through your books. As it seemed, everything you'd said earlier had turned out to be true.

“What? Feeling lovestruck, my lord?” Tone playful and teasing, you cut your bread into a few slices, placing the rest of the loaf to the side. The black haired man scoffs, shaking his head at your words.

As you continue making your sandwich, Suguru busies himself with the task at hand. And that was–well, he wasn't sure himself. At first it felt like a way of ensuring that you weren't actively looking to ruin his life or the king's life, but now he just found himself admiring your handwriting and your cheeky remarks.

There was something oddly charming about your way of writing; just like your appearance and everything else about you, at that. You had little doodles of your cat on some pages, depicting said feline with a speech bubble to give you reminders on how to not pour all your spider eyes into your cauldron all at once, but rather one at a time. Or how you have to be careful with how many frog legs you put into your potion of melancholia, lest you want another dead person. Wait--

You've killed someone from your potions before?” Suguru's voice cuts through the silence, and you shrug.

“Whoops.” You answer cheerily, delicately placing tomatoes over your bread.

Suguru glances up in disbelief. “Whoops? You killed an innocent person and you're saying whoops?”

“He wasn't innocent. His wife came to me because he was.. abusive. She wanted him in depression, and apparently the potion was strong enough for him to take his own life. Oh well,” you shrug, and Suguru paused.

“And she couldn't inform the king or at the very least, me?” He questioned, oddly enough. He knew his question was a little stupid, but he asked anyway.

You let out a laugh at the question, raising a brow at him. “In a world where women are taught to know their place and not speak up against a man? She was afraid of telling anyone. That's why she resorted to the means she took.” You answered, tone resolute. You were certain that the man deserved what he got, and you didn't see why Suguru seemed to care so much. “If our world cared more about our people, maybe we would not have to resort to such extreme measurements. Everything is done for survival, and if the higher power can't promise it, then someone else, or something else will.” You state plainly, as if it were an obvious truth.

“Still. Taking a life?” Suguru pressed further, and you paused.

With a sigh, you pause your sandwich assembly and turn to him. “Look, the potion wasn't supposed to kill him! If she wanted to kill him, she'd use a different potion! Not the melancholic one!” You defended, adamant on your innocence, ironically enough.

“You have potions to kill people?!” Suguru asked again, frantically looking through your book.

“Yes I do, my lord. Believe it or not, I am a witch, and thus I am not all goody goody.” You answered in amusement, to which Suguru grimaced.

He pauses, crossing his arms. “That's.. not that I didn't already expect such a thing, but.. I'm disappointed.” He sighs, shaking his head.

“And why is that? You and your people prepare for warfare over land and other disputes, killing one another. And that loss of life is an honor, a deliverance. And you imprison those who have openly wronged many, but what of those who work silently? And of those women who are afraid to speak up against what they go through in fear of isolation and hatred? What of those? If I take the life of a man who was simply a bug in this world, why is that a sin? Something vile?” You interrogate, making Suguru freeze.

“Because we are serving the country.” Suguru argued back, to which you hum.

Finishing up the two sandwiches, you cut them and place them into plates. “Are you, though? Does the country not include women being assaulted? By people they know? By husbands? By strangers? When will you serve them? And who will serve them?” There's an unreadable look in your eyes as you speak, and Suguru pauses.

“Perhaps we'll have to look into supporting the women of our nation more, you're right. But killing men is not the solution.” The black haired man explained, nodding at you.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, please! You'll put me to sleep with all this boring talk of worthless men.” You dramatically drawled, and Suguru glared at you, gaze pointed.

Suddenly, your sly grin returned on your face, and you tilted your head. “What if I've never actually killed anyone? And what if it was a bluff, just to get you to acknowledge women?” You teased, unable to hold back the tease in your voice.

“Is that why you mentioned not causing another death, in your book?” Suguru sarcastically asked, to which you burst into laughter.

“You're so trusting of my word, my lord. It's flattering. How about you put the book down for the meal, now.” You whispered to him, taking the book out of his hands to place it back into its original spot. You take his hand, guiding him into a chair on your dining table. Your fingers rest against his shoulders, featherlight touches caressing the skin with a familiar sensuality.

“Here,” you whisper sweetly, pressing the sandwich to his lips. As he opened his mouth to take a bite, your own lips parted in tandem, eyes zeroed in on Suguru's movement. The tension in the room was undeniably palpable, and Suguru felt his will straining. “Good?” You asked, head tilting.

Suguru closed his eyes, chewing carefully on the food. Your addicting perfume was clouding his senses, and he felt himself being enveloped in you.

“How long have you had her? Your cat, I mean.” Suguru opts to say, and you wipe his lip to remove the sauce dripping down, and you bring your thumb to your mouth, licking it cheekily.

“Ever since she was a little baby. She wandered into my home, she was all feisty. And I had my own worries. We both minded our own business, and I'd lay out some food for her. She would still try to fight me over it though,” you let out a snicker, remembering how she had a habit of biting and scratching you in the start. “But eventually, she brought me a dead mouse as a peace offering! And it was just what I needed for my potion!” You smiled, leaning down to coddle your feline baby.

“I should be going soon.” He mumbled, and your glossy lips formed into another pout.

You stand back up, leaning against the table as you glanced down at his seated form. “So soon, my lord?” you tilt your head, crossing your arms.

Suguru glances up, feeling odd at the emotions running through his body of having to look up at you, instead of his usual towering over others. His eyes focus on your form, your body molding against the table, your figure almost sat atop the table.

“Eyes are up here, my lord. I'm afraid you're staring somewhere quite frisky.” You teased, and Suguru froze up, averting his gaze as he began to eat his sandwich once more.

Your fingers drum against the table, nails clicking rhythmically against the wooden surface. You both remain in silence, and Suguru tries his hardest to not pay attention to your gaze on his form.

“Please, do visit more often. A poor lady like myself gets bored alone in this big house, you know?” You smiled, eyes filled with mirth.

Suguru cleared his throat, grabbing a napkin from his pocket to wipe away at his mouth. “The sandwich was delicious, thank you for having me.” He spoke after a moment, getting up from his chair. Your eyes follow his face, head tilting up to accommodate his height.

You blink, suddenly amused. “Why, of course. The pleasure is mine. Will you be visiting again?” You answer him sweetly, pushing away from the table to stand in front of him.

“If by chance we see each other again, then yes.” Suguru answers simply, and you perk up in delight, rushing over to grab his long coat

You smile as you help him with his upper layer, fingers lingering over his shoulders. “You've simply warmed my heart, dear advisor.” You mumble sweetly, to which Suguru raises a brow.

“What's with all the titles? Just refer to me by my name.” He assures, leaning down to pull his shoes over his feet.

“Your name only, you say? Why, that's certainly an honor, Suguru.” The way his name rolls off his tongue, Suguru pauses, glancing up at you. There's a cattish smile on your face once more, and Suguru turns his gaze back to his boots.

“I'll be off, then.” He answers curtly, and you hum. You lean into him once more, a hand on his forearm and a kiss pressed to his cheek.

“Until next time, dearest Suguru! Farewell!” You wave your hand goodbye, closing the door with a giggle of delight. “He's so dreamy, isn't he?” You ask your cat, and she purrs in response, her ear flicking as if in agreement to your words.

And unbeknownst to you, Suguru found himself stumbling back to Satoru and the kingdom, head clouded with you, all thanks to you and your wicked demeanor.

[satninbaby]

hello sir, may i take a seat?

[markacademia]

it’s a shame i don’t have a dick but i would ave fucked welt stupid

[lunni-e]

it’s not a mating press BUTTTT

I NEEEEEED HIMMMMM

[thatoneweirdo14]

i have watched a total of 5 fanmeet videos, 3 compilations and 1 edit of him and i just want to say...

I need Loki so bad oml 😩😩😩🙏🙏🙏🙏

[shippudens]

the world was a mistake

[antimonys-stuff]

anyway what I'm saying is BISEXUAL Icarus who in his mortal life fell (quite literally) for the splendor of Apollo in his chariot, and in his death falls in love with the princess of the Underworld, who also shines in her own way

[kentos-glasses]

The day i make a mans back look like this…

I NEED HIM SO FUCKING BAD OMGGGGGG

anybody up for this task? Anybody? No? No? Ok…🥲🥲🥲

♡~Mei~♡

i wanna make him look like this. cr to og artist

[catboyaramaki]

Wanted to get used to drawing Hien, so I drew a simple headshot.

[fushitoru]

HELLOOO? literally the way he's just so.....pathetic.....but also so so kind like SAVE ME HIGURUMA SAVE MEEEE from my weirdo EX-husband

i think higuruma is the personification of "too sweet" by hozier and this gave those vibes and i'm kind of obsessed with this

hiromi higuruma is your divorce lawyer, and he thinks you might be the most beautiful person he's ever laid eyes on. ❦ cw ; mdni. 18+ only. f!reader. divorce themes. fluff. p in v. fingering. oral (f!receiving). slight body worship. unprotected. creampie. kinda hurt/comfort if you squint?

masterlist

divorce lawyer!higuruma who makes a point of not dating clients, but he can’t help but think that you’re gorgeous.

divorce lawyer!higuruma who feels his blood boil during the first meeting with your husband- ex-husband- and his lawyer as the asshole tries to defend himself for cheating. he can hardly bear to see the way you cover the fact that you’re holding back tears with nothing more than a glance at the table and a dejected smile.

divorce lawyer!higuruma surprises you when he suggests a more aggressive split of your belongings, favoring you of course. it wasn’t previously discussed but you don’t argue and when the opposing side agrees, you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing you can support yourself.

divorce lawyer!higuruma doesn’t say a word when you return to his office and cry. he’s no stranger to having those recently divorced cry in front of him, but this time there’s a very real and raw pang in his chest.

divorce lawyer!higuruma offers to take you for drinks. it’s not a date, no formalities, just his way of offering you some comfort. you tilt your head so cutely as you contemplate his question, wiping your tears with the back of hand as you decidedly nod.

divorce lawyer!higuruma feels his grasp slipping on his self-imposed rule to not date clients. you’re so kind, so caring, so beautiful, that he wonders how your sleazy ex-husband ever let you go.

divorce lawyer!higuruma pays for all of your drinks and your uber, much to your dismay, insisting it’s the right thing to do.

divorce lawyer!higuruma looks forward to your next meeting, in spite of the fact that he’ll need to see your ex-husband. there’s a sort of pride blooming deep within his chest when you speak of the divorce to your ex, but look to hiromi for encouragement. he offers you nods and smiles and you relax somewhat, seeming much more at ease and confident.

divorce lawyer!higuruma who has a smile on his face walking out of the meeting with you as your ex-husband seethes over the fact that you’re squeezing more money out of him, and doing it with a smile.

divorce lawyer!higuruma doesn’t even think twice about accepting when you insist on taking him for dinner as a thank you once the proceedings are finished. he intends nothing more than to have a friendly dinner with you, but after several hours and his insistence to make sure you get home safe, you find yourself sharing a kiss.

divorce lawyer!higuruma hasn’t even had a drink, but he thinks he’s drunk on you. you’re so saccharine sweet and the way you sweetly invite him in with bright eyes is irresistible. he doesn’t even mind potentially being a rebound if it means getting the chance to show you what it means to be taken care of by a real man.

divorce lawyer!higuruma carries you so confidently to your guest room that you just giggle when you tell him it’s the wrong room, directing him to your bedroom. there’s something so sweet and charming about the whole situation, the way you’re able to laugh together, that he hopes he isn’t just a rebound. but for you? he will be, if that’s what you want.

divorce lawyer!higuruma spends the night practically worshiping your body. he takes his time kissing each and every inch of your skin, so gentle and caring even as his cock absolutely throbs in the confines of his slacks, because he wants to show you exactly what you’ve missed out on.

divorce lawyer!higuruma absolutely snaps when his tongue is buried in your pussy and you begin to beg him to cum as his ministrations are so slow, drawing your pleasure out. it’s like he’s a different man when he meanly strokes long fingers against your g spot while he sucks your clit until your body is trembling with pleasure.

divorce lawyer!higuruma’s words when he talks dirty send you into a spiral as he asks if your ex-husband could get you off like he is, if he knew how to make you beg and scream and shake while he pounds your poor cunt in a mean mating press. what sends him into a frenzy is the way you tell him he’s the best you’ve ever had.

divorce lawyer!higuruma doesn’t relent as your moans turn to babbles and your nails rake his back. he relishes in the sting, knowing he’s hitting your sweet spot with each stroke as white hot pleasure courses through your body and with a cry you hit your climax. You cling to him as your arousal coats his cock, your walls tightening around his length and with only a few more thrusts, he fills you with his seed when you beg him to cum inside.

divorce lawyer!higuruma still fears being a rebound, but there’s something satisfying in seeing him seeping from your folds and soaking the sheets beneath you.

divorce lawyer!higuruma takes his time caring for you, cleaning you gently with a towel as he asks if you enjoyed yourself before he lifts the sheets and blankets over you, comfortably holding you against his broad chest as though you belong there, and he wonders if you feel that sensation too.

divorce lawyer!higuruma who tries to leave early in the morning, as a courtesy to you, under the assumption that he’s a rebound. a delicate hand around his wrist has his eyes widening as he tries to step out of the bed, but you don’t let him, a hurt expression on your face as you ask if he’s leaving.

divorce lawyer!higuruma who realizes he’s underestimated you in every way as he comfortably holds you against his bare chest again in the early hours of the morning, basking in the feeling of being wanted. the feeling of being wanted by you, nonetheless. he wonders how your ex-husband ever let you go, how any man could possibly bear to not see the entire sun, you, each and every morning upon waking up.

divorce lawyer!higuruma relaxes into you, forgetting about your ex as he falls into a deep slumber, silent plans to take you on countless dates and spoil you rotten floating in his mind if you’ll allow him to. little does he know, you’re as smitten with him as he is with you.

masterlist

❦ a/n ; just a lil something for hiromi while i work on my last kinktober piece and my sukuna college au ♡ as always, likes, reblogs, and comments super appreciated!

[knightzp]

and he starts singing my sunshine youre moonlight

[i-love-def-leppard]

there is a tear falling down my leg 😩😩🥵🥵

[butchcarmy]

I just started my period today (caught me completely off guard while I was at work) and I just wanna be pampered by carmy SO BADDDD

Like imagine… he comes home from work and sees you grumpy on the couch. Immediately can sense something’s up. You brighten up when you see him, but it doesn’t make all the awful go away.

He INSISTS on taking care of you, because that’s how he operates. Acts of service, acts of love and care… he gets you another heating pad, more water. Cooks you something delicious for dinner if you haven’t eaten yet. Bakes you a little chocolate cake in a ramekin, dusted in cocoa powder and with a healthy dose of vanilla whip cream on top.

“Sorry you don’t feel well,” he’d say, cuddling with you on the couch. Presses a little kiss to your temple. He’s brought over the softest blanket you guys have and draped it over the two of you. “Wish I could make it all go away.”

“S’okay. It’s better now that you’re here.” That makes him smile, makes him kiss your forehead again.

That’s how you spend the rest of your night. Cuddling, kissing, chatting, eating good food… yeah, I need carmy on call every time I’m on my period

[planetariumx]

this is so fucking cute i’m gonna pass away AUGHHHHH

<- part eight | epilogue -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: the "enemies” become lovers.

the song: Honey by Kehlani

also for your listening pleasure: I Want You So Bad by Heart , We Belong by Pat Benatar

7,482 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / descriptions of heights-being afraid of them / all favorites listed vaguely except for strawberry ice cream and the princess bride movie / SMUT - slight fingering (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), unprotected piv intercourse with discussions of birth control - creampie | my blog is 18+

Hawkins Middle and High School - the past

    The girls giggled in line, whispering and looking over their shoulder and you knew then it was a really, really bad idea to go with them. 

  The chairs swung in front of you, people yelling and waving to their friends and family down below them and you couldn’t fathom how they could be up so high and have a smile on their face. 

  Your hands started to sweat as you got closer and closer, till it was your turn next. 

  But then they didn’t follow you, when the boy running the ride sighed and said, “Only two on.”

  The girl named Carol pouted and she looked at you, then the other girl, “I’d go with you, but I have to go with Tina. It’s a tradition.”

  “Oh, okay, well, I’ll just…I actually really don’t want-“

  “Single rider! We’ve got a single rider! I need a person to accompany this single rider!”

  “That’s okay!” You rushed, waving the boy off from yelling again as the girls and everyone in line started to snort and whisper. “Please, I am okay not-“

  “I can go with you?”

  A boy with an ice cream cone in his hand standing next to the line glared at Tina and Carol who’s mouths parted. He shoved past them and smiled at you, wavy brown hair flopping in the wind as he looked at the attendant, then held up his chocolate cone, “Oh, um, can I bring this on?”

  “I so don’t care,” the teen waved you on and to your horror, closed the bar over your laps with no belt. 

  Your eyes squeezed shut as it lurched forward , fingers slipping on the metal bar as your breath came too quick.

  “I’m Steve, by the way, sorry about them. They’re pretty nice when they want to be, I think.”

  His words registered, somewhere in your fear, and you managed to spit out your own name. 

  He repeated your name, he murmured something that sounded like the word ‘pretty’ which had you humming a ‘hmm?’ while your eyelids fluttered open in a grave mistake.

  “Oh, uh, I said do you want to share some of my ice cream?” He blinked at you, light brown eyes coming in to focus in front of twinkling lights. 

His cheeks turned pink as he mumbled, “That’s weird, isn’t it? I just…hey, you okay?”

  His gaze roamed over your face that did not look okay at all.

  “I’m…I’m heights aren’t my favorite thing.”

  Steve nodded and looked around, breathing out as the ride stopped and kept you dangling in the air. You gripped his forearm without thinking, closing your eyes.

  “It’s okay, um…okay, wanna hold my hand until it’s over? I know that doesn’t help that much, but you can feel something that…you know like not the ride reminding you of how high up you are? Shit, I mean, if you keep your eyes closed and hold my hand, it’s like we’re on the ground right?”

  “Ri-right?” You hiccupped out through a gulp of air, hand following the yellow sweatshirt sleeve down to bare skin until you could lace your fingers with his. 

  A breeze blew, the bucket you were in swayed with it and you squeezed harder and Steve cleared his throat, “Woah, you’ve got a grip. You ever thought of baseball for a career?” 

  You laughed, but started to try to slip out of his hold from embarrassment, but froze when the ride squeaked, so he held it tighter and whispered, “Wow, these swings, that are on the ground, safely attached to the earth, are so fun.”

  Your nose wrinkled as you laughed through it and shook your head when the ride started again. 

  He kept coming up with scenarios for the creaks, and breezes, the swaying, until your hand was loosening in his to a normal and comfortable hold and your eyes were fluttering open again in a genuine laugh. 

  “Hey, there she is.” He smiled at you. He squeezed your hand, “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  The ride came to a halt and Steve kept his hand in yours as you walked off of it. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Saturday A.B.

  Your fingers roam over your face, your outfit, gaze meeting your own in the mirror as you whisper, “You’re going on a date. Just a normal date.

  Nothing crazy about it.” You shrug, nonchalant, “It’s just with Steve Harrington. You’re probably gonna go to a movie and makeout,” the thought has the butterflies flapping in your stomach, but you hold them off, adding with a finger at yourself, “And then it’ll be over, and you’ll go back to how life was before this bet.”

  Even as the sentence leaves your mouth, your chest tightens. 

  Back to life before he kissed you. 

  Before panic about your safety, before the color red became your favorite too, before you knew what he told Robin. 

  Before he spoke like that to you in his bedroom.

  Before you realized you’ve been in love with him for forever and have just been too scared to get hurt.

  Yeah, easy to go back to before all of that. No problem. 

  A noise outside has you peeking out of your window’s blinds then, and you grab a small bag, and head out your front door. 

  Steve sits in his driver’s seat, going over his plan with his eyes closed. He blows out his breath, nodding to himself. 

“You’re gonna go on this date, and it’s gonna be great, and you are only going to kiss her a little bit at the end of the night, if she wants, and that’s it, Harrington.”

  He opens his eyes and panics, seeing you locking your front door. He quickly jumps out of the car and shouts your name. 

  As you turn, his heart stops beating, he’s sure of it.

  Steve stands at the bottom of the stairs, shaking his head and carrying a bouquet of your favorite flowers and something else. His hair is perfectly messy, cheeks pink as he waves at you to back up, wearing the same color he was when you met him. A yellow tshirt pulls at his shoulders as he climbs the stairs, voice sweet but scolding.

  “Go back inside!”

  “What?” Word lost around your laughter, hand on the keys still in the door’s lock.

  He huffs, pouting his lips around the words, “I’m supposed to knock on your door, and give you these so you can put them in water, and tell you you’re beautiful.”

  “Oh,” heat floods your body at the word beautiful, but you make no movement as he climbs the last few steps.

  Steve raises his eyebrows at you over gold eyes that sparkle and you let out more of a surprised laugh.

  “Wait you seriously want me to go back in?”

  “Baby, yes,” he motions for you to spin, “I only get one chance, I gotta do this right.”

  “Well excuse me, any other rules I should know about?” You grumble under your breath as your key sticks, you yank but it won’t budge. More laughter leaves through your nose, “My keys are stuck.”

  “Okay, okay, go back inside, leave the keys in the door, and I’ll get them when we finish with the flowers,” Steve says from behind your shoulder. The hot breath on your ear makes a shiver travel down your spine and back up.

  “But I’m already out here and-“

  “Please?” The word is brushed against your ear, gently, sincerely.

  “Mhm,” hums out of sealed tight lips so something embarrassing like a moan doesn’t slip out instead as you push your thighs together under your dress. 

  Entering the apartment, you look at him grinning smugly for getting his way as you close the door and roll your eyes.

  A knock taps in a pattern on the door and you sigh around a laugh and call, “Who is it?”

  “Kevin Bacon!”

  As you whip your door open, ready with a witty reply about cutting loose, you stop. Steve  swallows, eyes roaming over your body despite having seen the red sun dress before tonight and only a few seconds earlier. But when they land on your face, they melt into a look you’ve never seen before. 

  Even though you know he’s going to say it, it feels like air is sucked out of your lungs, deflating you on the spot into a gooey puddle when he clears his throat and keeps eye contact as he murmurs.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” you respond, cheeks warm, “The dress is…”

  “No,” Steve shakes his head, taking a step forward, “You’re beautiful.”

  The puddle you’ve turned into disintegrates into the carpet.

  Steve’s cheeks turn deeper pink, almost the same color as your dress as he shakes his head. “Wait, no, I mean the dress is great, you look, it’s great, it’s, red is definitely your color. I mean other colors look good on you too and-“

  “Steve,” you interrupt and he closes his mouth and then you grin and point to the bouquet, “Are those for me?”

  “Oh, yes!” He extends them to you, your fingers brush as your fingers wrap around the stems. You’re hiding a smile into a sniff of them when a loud click and flash happens. 

  Steve’s pulling a Polaroid square out of a camera as you blink up at him, “Wh-“

  “Rule number one tonight - any time you’re looking too cute, I have to take a picture.” He shrugs, like it’s not the most heart melting, brain fizzing, breath stuttering thing a guy’s ever said or done to you. 

  “I-“

  He lifts the camera again and you grin, swatting at his arm through a laugh, “No, film is expensive you can’t waste it on pictures of me.”

  Your fingers wrapped around his forearm feel right, and the bouquet of flowers is squished between your chests as Steve holds the camera out of your reach, words soft against your cheek as he breathes them out.

  “How would that be a waste, honey?”

  Your heart is so loud in your chest, you wonder if the clear evening forecast was wrong, if a storm actually is coming. 

  Steve purses his lips in thought and then offers, “An amendment to rule number one - only pictures for the moments we really wanna remember?”

  “Big brain word,” you mumble, gaze locked on his lips that twitch in a fight of a smile.

  “We have a deal? No protesting, no saying anything about wasting film, you’re gonna get your picture taken and like it, yeah?”

  The tap of his finger to the tip of your nose shatters your legs, you’re not sure how you’re standing.

  “De-deal,” you clear your throat. With what you think is a smile, your body can’t remember how to do anything but melt anymore, you hold up the flowers. “Well, I guess I should get these in a vase, huh?”

  “Good idea.” He smiles.

  As you wander to your kitchen on wobbly legs, Steve takes a step inside the apartment fully, looking around with a thoughtful gaze. 

  As the glass jar fills in shaking hands, you call out, “Hey, wouldn’t rule number one be no help? How’d you know these were my favorite?”

  “I didn’t get help. I knew they were your favorite already. From middle school.”

  Your fingers turn the tap with a squeak, eyes blinking at the flowers now resting in the jar as you ask, “What?”

  As you return to the main room, he stares at you, like he’s waiting for something, but then he finally says, “Those poems, in lit. You had a line about your favorite flower. I assumed they were still your favorite now.”

  “Oh.”

  Steve and you stand on opposite sides of the room, you holding the jar of flowers and him the Polaroid. The photo is developing slowly, the purples and blues matching the bruise on his temple from Thursday night. The red of your dress matching the small scar on his cheek.

  The moment lingers, like the last few storm clouds are hovering, slowly lifting as the skies clear and bring promise of better weather. 

  He smiles softly and tilts his head towards the door, “Ready? We’ve got a whole itinerary.”

  You grab the camera from him and snap the photo, sure he looks confused and dazed in it, but you don’t care. 

  The photo slowly spits out as you stare at each other, letting the moment you want to remember develop next to his. 

  He holds out his hand, waiting for you to grab it. 

    “Anyways, I’m rambling,” you finish, grabbing a water glass and sipping it as Steve’s thumb brushes over your knuckles of the hand he’s holding. 

  On top of the table. 

  On the edge of the table.

  For everyone to see. 

  He hasn’t let go of it unless he absolutely needed to while eating, and was quick to grab it again when he got the chance.

  His knee knocks against yours under the diner’s table, feet tangled together as he shakes his head. 

  “No, you’re not, and even if you were, I like listening to you talk.”

  It feels like that’s all you’ve been doing since you got to the diner. After Steve took your menu and said that he’d already made arrangements, he’d asked you questions about yourself. Some typical first date favorites that he seemingly already knew, like your favorite food, which was delivered to the table. But most of your conversation went deeper, both of you talking about big dream things like not wanting to work at Family Video forever and what you hoped to do next. How excited he was to live with Robin, and how pissed he was at his parents for moving. Surface level things lead into deeper questions like why a season was your favorite because you spent it at your family’s old cabin and all of the memories wrapped up into it.

  “To be honest,” Steve grabs your second hand as it sets the water down, holding both in the middle of the table as he stares at them, “I think I could sit here all night and listen to you talk to me.” He starts to trace your hands with his fingers, watching the pad drag up your index finger and back down. “You used to barely speak to me, and when you did, it’s not like we had a real conversation.” 

  “I’m sorry,” you whisper to him.

  He lifts a hand and kisses your fingers, “For?”

  Your lips purse, eyes squint, ignoring the swooping in your stomach as you ask, “How much time do we have?”

  Steve laughs, his fingers slide in and out of yours as he looks at them. “I don’t think you have anything to apologize for, honey.”

  “I do,” you say, watching how his fingers glide up and down against yours, wondering if you’ll start a fire right there on the top of the diner table from it. “I never gave you a fair chance. We were just kids and…I’m sorry.”

  Steve looks up at you and shakes his head, “I didn’t give you much opportunity to think I deserved a chance. And I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” He looks like a kid who’s been caught stealing a cookie before dinner as he admits, “I used to egg you on, on purpose a lot. Just so you’d yell at me and get that little spot…” he touches your forehead, and the brain behind it turns to a static TV screen.

  “Which,” he’s grabbing your hand again, unaware he’s erased all functioning properties from you mind as he continues, “I guess I’m not that sorry for. But, I am sorry for being a jerk in school, and after school, and all the times in between.”

  Your head shakes, mouth parting in protest and he leans forward, nose close to yours as he whispers, “How about we’re both sorry, we both think the other doesn’t need to be sorry, and both are true. That just exists, and there’s nothing to argue about, hmm?” His nose taps the tip of yours, brushing up the bridge of it as your eyelashes flutter. “Rule number two?” His breath fans across your lips as he asks, “No more arguing?”

  “But, what will we do if we can’t argue the rest of the night?” You murmur, tilting your head so your bottom lip skims his top and makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a whine slip out from his throat. 

  His head tilts, and you think he’ll close the small distance between your mouths, but then a flash and pop happens next to your heads and you grin, somehow the photo being taken making the butterflies happier in your stomach than a kiss. 

  But then he’s mumbling, “I don’t know if I even aimed that right…” nose knocking your cheek as he presses closer across the table digging into his stomach.

  “We’ll know what it’s supposed to be of,” words exhaled as you both inhale, tilt, and-

   “Room for dessert?” The waitress interrupts with perfect timing. 

  Steve clears his throat as he leans away from you. He smiles politely at the waitress and says no thanks.  

  Your hands seem to loosen in his, and he only grabs them tighter. 

  “Okay, so. There’s much more to this date, but I wanted to check in, make sure you’re still okay with this?”

  Thumbs rub circles over the back of your hands in a dizzying, electric way.

  And that’s before he lifts one hand and kisses your palm while maintaining eye contact.

  Your thighs adjust on the diner seat as you nod and murmur, “I’m having a great time.”

  He smiles wider, squeezes your fingers. “Great, next stop - dessert.”

    Steve’s fingers tug on yours, pulling you through the crowd as you laugh around a lick of your ice cream. 

  He’d pulled the maroon car into the grassy field ten minutes ago and you’d turned to face him as he put the car in park. 

  He smiled at you, fingers fiddling with his keys and shoulders tight as he asked, “This okay?”

  The Hawkins 4th of July carnival sat before you, twinkling lights, rides, games, and most of the town wandering around it all. 

  You’d nodded and Steve slipped out of the door and pointed at you to stop just like he’d done at the diner. He opened your door and held his hand to help you out, never letting go until he had to pay for your ice cream. 

  As he’d grabbed his cone, he’d glanced at his watch and swore, grabbed your hand again and started pulling.

  You couldn’t help but notice every girl staring as he tugs you through people saying excuse me, couldn’t help but feel that spark of pride in your chest when whenever your grip loosened around people, his only held on tighter.

  “What is the rush!” You laugh, catching melting strawberry ice cream with your lips as he darts to the left.

  “We’re late! I didn’t realize how long we talked at the diner, we’re missing it!”

  “Missing what…”

  Your voice trails off as you approach the big grassy hill packed with people on blankets in front of a large, handmade screen.

  Showing The Princess Bride.

  Robin sits in a booth, chin in her hand, bored, until she sees you two and grins, waving from her station.

  “Wh-what’s going on?” You ask, looking at the screen, then him.

  Steve frowns, groaning, “It’s like half over. Shit, I’m sorry. I had it all planned.”

  He looks at you and all you can see is the chocolate ice cream on his bottom lip as he keeps talking. 

  “Family Video was asked to do a movie in the park, and I asked Keith if I could do it, and I picked The Princess Bride, for you, so we could watch it together, here-“

  Your fingers catch his chin and he can’t breathe as your thumb swipes over his bottom lip. It slips in between your lips, tongue licking the chocolate from it as he breathes heavily.

  His hands lift the camera just as yours go to grab for it and you make eye contact then look at Robin and grin. 

  She snaps a photo of you both when you ask, and you’re fairly certain Steve’s eyes are closed and your mouth is open in a question and it may end up being your favorite one, regardless. 

  You look at Steve and nod towards the hill. 

  This time, you hold out your hand and wait for him to grab it.

  The movie is full of moments.

  One of him asking for a taste of your ice cream and scoffing when you whisper a no, only to grab your wrist and pull it to his mouth and bite it, which you tell him he’s a serial killer for. 

  Once your ice cream is finished, there’s several, where you keep catching him watching your profile when you laugh at the same parts you always do, only for him to turn quickly back to the screen and ignore you when you try to ask him what he’s staring at. Which he says he doesn’t know what you’re talking about to, so then you get loud about it and then his palm covers your mouth as he whispers that you’re talking during the movie and it’s rude, baby, some people haven’t seen this a bazillion times. 

  So many with hands resting next to each other’s, fingers playing with yours, swirling over the skin of your arm up and down and tickling and soothing at the same time, making the butterflies in your stomach bang on the walls and scream about letting them out. 

  Another, where, when he kisses your bare shoulder and pulls your fallen dress strap up, you wonder if butterflies can scream and if Steve can hear them. 

  Then, when the movie’s almost over, Steve tugs on your hand and whispers against your ear (because you were scolded by Robin for talking too loud earlier), that he knows it’s not over, but you have somewhere to be. 

  The pair of you duck as you run past people down the hill, trying not to stumble and fall or laugh or block their view and being unsuccessful in almost all of it. 

  He helps you not fall, hands on your waist and he keeps them there as you turn, breathless, hands against his chest where you can feel his heart beating as hard as yours.

  It feels a lot like you’re facing a fear, about to do or say something you might regret, but you know you never truly will, because at least you said it.

At least you gave the what if a chance to prove you wrong. 

  “Hey,” you whisper, “In case I forget to say it, this date has been pretty perfect.”

  “Yeah?” He swallows, gaze falling to your lips then back up. “Even with the moratorium on arguing?”

  “Did you just say moratorium?” You grin, while your palms climb higher on his chest and around his neck.

  He nods, nose knocking yours, “Mhm, and for my big brain word, I have a request.”

  “Name your price, Harrington.”

  Steve takes a step back and pulls your hands deeper into the fair, until you’re in front of the ferris wheel.

  Your feet scuff on the gravel as he tries to keep pulling you into the line and you shake your head.

  “Please?” He looks nervous, looking at the sky and line and then back at you, “I promise it won’t be bad. Just like the first time, I’ll distract you and I’ll hold your hand until it’s over-“

  “No,” your hand does slip out of his this time, “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  You gesture to the giant ride in front of you, “This is like ten times bigger than that one a school. And I’m bigger! So that’s saying something if it still looks so big!”

  Each of your volume increases, hands gesturing and drawing a crowd as you interrupt each other, rule number two completely broken. 

  “Please, just get in line? It’ll be worth it, and-“

  “I’m not going, no way-“

  “Stop being so stubborn, for once in your life and just-“

  “I’m not being stubborn, you’re being stubborn and I don’t know why it’s such a big deal anyways-“

  “Would you just hold my hand on the damn ferris wheel so I can tell you that I love you!?”

  It feels like every single person at that fair stops talking right then. His words hang in the air, dings and chimes from rides and games get louder as he blinks at you, mouth parting and closing as nothing more comes out. 

  Your chest heaves as you gasp, “Wh-what?”

  Steve swallows and takes a step closer to you, then another, until his hand is cupping your jaw and he’s shaking his head, like he doesn’t want to say the words but he can’t help it anymore.

  “I love you so much. And maybe that’s a crazy thing to say, when this is technically our first date, but…but I do. I love when you snatch red vines out of my fingers and you get that wrinkle between your brows when you think I’m acting like an idiot.” 

Your shaking hand grabs his on your cheek, vision turning blurry as he keeps going, voice cracking as he does, “I love the color of your eyes. I love how you can joke and not take things so seriously until it’s something that really matters. I love your work ethic and your heart and…and I think I’ve loved you since we were twelve and I heard your laugh for the first time while you broke my hand. I love you.”

  It doesn’t feel real, the words coming out of him, the way your chest cracks open and releases the butterflies. All of your fears of not being enough, of only being a game, vanish with three little words said by Steve. The way he says I love you while he looks at you like that.

  Like he means it. 

  Like you’re his. 

  His thumb catches tears on your cheeks while you sniffle as you somehow joke, “Acting like an idiot?”

  Steve laughs, a rumble in his chest as his forehead knocks against yours, waiting, until you take the air out of him and put it back with five words.

  “I love you too, Steve.”

  This kiss, is like the moment the storm is over. When rain drips from the leaves softly and the earth smells fresh - like it’s been given a clean slate. When birds start chirping again and the breeze returns instead of the wind. Like sun peaking out of clouds and gray sky turning to blue.  

  His lips mold around yours, like they’re meant to, like he’s not ever letting them go. Your body heats, like he’s transferring all of his warmth into you from just his lips. Catching yours softly as they part, as they beg for more. He does let them go, only when there’s whoops and whistles around you and a booming crack and spark above you both. 

  Red and blue paint his features tilted up towards the sky, the fireworks in your stomach reflected in his eyes when they look back at you. 

  He kisses you again, in front of everyone, holding your waist and pulling you tightly against him, Polaroid sandwiched between you. Steve keeps kissing you until you’re both panting into each other’s lips, unable to part fully, but desperately needing air.

  Your bottom lip catches his top one again in an over too quick peck as you smile and grab both of his hands, and tug him towards the parking lot. 

    He had to pull over fifteen minutes ago. 

  You’d kissed him dizzy in the grassy field, letting him press your body up against the door he was planning to open for you.

  Mouth that had always been so mean to him making up for so much lost time. Lips that parted under his and followed his lead, that sucked and bruised right back, always matching his shift, countering back, challenging him and making something inside of his chest feel like it was prying open to get into yours. 

  The feeling was addicting. 

  He remembers his hands on your hips, pressing you into the car with his body, your name barely escaping between tongue and lips that just wouldn’t, couldn’t, stop. 

  You’d hummed, while fingers squeezed the back of his neck and then scratched along the back of his head, grinning around his mouth that parted in a gasp when you did. 

  “We,” he’d swallowed as your mouth slipped along his jaw, his head tilting back so you could kiss his throat, “We should…jesus christ.”

  Your teeth scraped the side of his neck and his hands pressed to the hood of the car, thigh nudging between your legs and only stopping when you moaned against his ear. 

  You’d rolled your hips experimentally, mouth moving lower again so it could get a proper kiss once more, now that you’d gotten a chance for deeper breaths. 

  Steve’s hands had gone back to your waist and squeezed, his mouth evaded yours and pressed to your ear.

  “You really are trouble, you know that?”

  It just made you wonder what else it would take for him to call you that again.

  But then it started to rain. 

  Everyone started running into the field, shrieking and laughing as rain thrummed and pinged on metal rides and wood booths. 

  He quickly opened your door, shoving the camera and Polaroids at you and ran around his hood. 

  Both of you swiped at your eyes, shivering from the cold rain that only turned down some of the heat between you. He’d swallowed as he looked at you, licked his bottom lip and asked if he could drive you home. 

  You’d nodded, and after he’d pulled onto the road, your hands met in the middle of the console. 

  But then you’d laid his hand on your thigh, pressing yours on top of it. You’d fiddled with his fingers, humming along to the radio and pretending like you weren’t up to no good.

  Adrenaline coursed through your veins, every doubt washed away from the rain when Steve looked over at you with pouted, kiss-bitten lips, voice scratchy as he warned, “Honey…”

  Which was his own fault. He shouldn’t have said it like that, shouldn’t have looked at you like that when he did. Cause it only made you lace your fingers with his from above. Made you move your hand and his to the hem of your dress where his fingers twitched when they hit bare skin. 

  “You-“

  He stopped, biting his lip when you pulled at the hem, lifting it higher and letting the pads of his fingers drag along the inside of your thigh till he hit wet lace and cotton. 

  “Please?”

  Which was your own fault. You shouldn’t have said it like that. Shouldn’t have looked at him like that when you did. Cause it only made it easier for you to guide his fingers to push under the black fabric. Made it too easy for the pads of two fingers to brush through your slick far too slow and tease at your clit before doing it again, and again, and-

  He pulled his hand away when you gasped as the car swayed on the wet pavement and he shook his head, hands back to ten and two, mumbling the word trouble again. 

  But then he was pulling over, lights cutting the slant of rain on the deserted gravel road as he looked over at you with pink cheeks and wild, wet hair and nodded his head to his side of the car.

  “Get over here, now.”

  You’d grinned and said:

  “Ask me nicely, Steve.”

  And now your thighs were parted over his, the skirt of your evil dress fanned out all pretty and covering up how indecent you were underneath. 

His hands held your waist as your hips rolled, the mess of black fabric underneath hitting against his Levi’s that were far too tight just right. 

  Heart’s song mixing with his own, thudding in his chest as you whisper his name against his lips like a prayer. He wonders if he can get you to come like this, just riding him fully clothed in his car, with just his mouth on yours, but that’s not what he wants. Not right now, not tonight.

  “Baby,” he sighs, “We gotta slow down. You’re killing me here.”

  It only makes your hips roll with a little more pressure, a laugh bubbling out of you as his eyelids flutter and the back of his head hits the seat rest with a groan. 

  He squeezes at your waist and holds you still, mouth catching yours when you whine. 

  It’s a much softer, shorter kiss than you’ve had all night, but not as sweet as what he says after. 

  “I wanna take my time with you.”

  He stares at you, and your hand leaves his shoulder, pad of your finger tracing over freckles on his cheek, his cupid’s bow, up the bridge of his nose. It’s tender on his eyebrow, careful to avoid the bruise, until it’s gently brushing the three freckles next to his eye. 

  “Did you know you have a little bit of green in your eyes?” The murmured words take his heart and squeeze, make it harder to swallow as your nose nuzzles into his and you add, “I don’t want to miss anything else, Steve. Don’t wanna waste time we can’t get back.”

  He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw. He presses soft and silky lips to just below your ear, lower, lingering on your racing pulse point before he’s back to staring at you. 

  “I’ve waited over ten years for this, I’m not doing it in my car. It needs to be…I wanna remember this.”

  A smile lifts your cheeks, and you reach for something, then whisper into his lips:

  “So let’s remember it.”

  A flash, a click, and a whir, before several moments lead up to a big one. 

  One’s where you climb off his lap regretfully, and he drives towards your apartment. 

  Several of climbing stairs and nervous fingers fumbling with keys and light switches. A radio plays Pat Benatar, music swelling around you both as you start kissing against your door.  

  Too many to count of kisses stolen between all of the other moments, till you’re in your bedroom with Steve Harrington and you’re pulling at his shirt that sticks to his skin. Bare arms quick to wrap back around you once it’s over his hair. 

  Your fingers scrape down his chest, over his stomach and shake while they work at metal and leather until he’s helping. Till he’s standing in front of you in just black boxers and swallowing as you look at him. 

  He steps forward, breath shaky as he asks, “Can I?”

  Once your head nods and you say please, his fingers drag red fabric higher and higher, gently pulling it over your head until you’re standing in front of him in just black lace which is so much harder to concentrate around than red. 

  Steve kisses you again, softer and sweeter. Slowly dragging your mouth open with his as his hand cups your jaw. Your hands roam from his chest to hips, pulling him towards you and both to the bed. 

  He climbs over you as your head meets the mattress. He breaks away from your mouth with panted breaths, kissing down your throat, over collar bones and your chest as you blink at your ceiling and try to remember how normal breathing works. His hands caress down your side and back up, fingers playing with the band of black on your back until you’re nodding, asking him to take it off. 

  Steve swallows at the sight of pebbling nipples underneath him, gasps a breath against the curve of your chest when his fingers brush one and you jolt and make a noise he hasn’t heard yet. He needs to hear it again, and let’s his tongue glide out to wet the same spot before brushing it again.

  It’s even better the second time. 

  He moves lower still, when you say his name and your hips adjust beneath his. Not sure if he’s dreaming when his fingers hook into lace and drag the underwear over your hips, past your thighs and off of your ankles. He’s pretty sure his heart is bruising the inside of his chest after he watches how it clung to you, space between your thighs already sticky and dripping for him. 

  You don’t have time to wonder what he’s thinking or worry about being anxious or doubt anything because he’s kissing your ankle, the inside of your knee, mouthing at all of the bare skin as he climbs higher again.

  “This is…” he swallows, breath fanning over your clit as he looks up your body and asks, “You’re okay? You want to keep going?”

  His eyes shine in the low lamplight of your room, hair drying and messier than ever from all your fingers have done to it tonight. His lips pout as he waits with held breath for your answer when you look down at him. 

  “Yes,” you nod, frantic about it and hand meeting his on your hip and holding tightly, “Please, I-Steve.”

  He moans into your folds at the sound of his name, at the taste of you finally on his tongue. It licks over you in flat, broad stripes. He traces each lip, nose leading the path up to your clit each time. Which throbs when the tip presses into it just right as his tongue pushes at your entrance. 

  Your fingers squeeze his as your back arches and the other grips your bedding. Chest heaving from the feeling of his tongue flicking faster. The stubble on his cheeks scratch at your thighs that squeeze around him tighter, which only makes him double down on the movement, lapping at you like he’ll never get to do it again and needs to make sure he doesn’t miss anything you give him. 

  His name leaves you louder, like you’ve never said it before.

  Like it’s yours. 

  He’s seeing red, when you clench around him tighter as his free hand presses circles into your clit until you’re shaking around him, fingers limp in his. 

  Your eyes are closed as your chest rises and falls quickly when he removes himself and looks at you from where he kneels between your legs. His hands gently roam up and back down your thighs, lips smiling when you sigh at the feeling, content.

  He doesn’t want to break it, whatever’s happening inside your head, but his fingers swirl circles higher, just below your ribs, voice scratchy when he asks, “Was that…”

  “If you’re about ask if that was okay…” you smile, eyes finally fluttering open. 

  Somehow, despite having the best orgasm just moments ago, you ache for more at the sight of him. 

  He kneels between your legs, his own chest panting a little too fast. Pride shoots through yours from how glossy his lips are, how pink his cheeks turn, how much his pupils take over normally golden iris’. 

  You’re a little crazed about it, pulling at his wrists so he falls on top of you, pushing at his boxers that he’s eager to help rid himself of too. Steve stands, pulling them off and your mouth goes dry, and he has the nerve to have some clarity, to look smug and ask, “See something you like, honey?”

  A laugh bubbles out past your lips as you shake your head, hands covering your eyes as you try to get your breathing under control. 

  The bed dips and his fingers skate over your skin, up higher until his palms are pressed into the pillow and your hands fall at the feeling of all of him on top of you, pushed up against you.

  Your hips roll, making him bite his lip above you when his length slips between your folds. Both of you breathe harshly into each other’s mouths, sliding together, teasing your kisses and the thing you’ve both been waiting for. 

  Until your hand pulls at his hair and you beg, “Need you, right now.”

  Steve grips at your hip, dizzy from how you coat him and he’s not even inside of you yet. He gasps, “Ask,” he nips at your bottom lip, “Nicely.”

  Your head shakes no, so your lips brush against his and then he’s swearing, closing his eyes and mumbling, “Oh my god, I’m an idiot.”

  “What?” You blink at him. 

  Steve moans, lips pressed to your jaw, nose into your cheek as he admits, “I don’t have a condom. I…I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

  The thought makes you grin, makes your eyelashes flutter because he twitches next to your entrance when you say, “Big brain word.”

He laughs, breath hot along your jaw and gasping as you roll your hips and offer, “Want your prize?”

  “Honey,” it sounds pained, like he’s one roll of your hips away from coming.

  “I-I’m on birth control. And I love you. I wanna do this,” your hands rub at his shoulder blades, down his biceps and back up. “Wanna feel all of you, Steve. Please?”

  He squeezes his eyes shut, his throat bobbing in front of you as he forces out a rushed, “You can’t just say stuff like that baby, don’t be mean.”

  Your hand reaches between you, fingers wrap around him and you’re addicted to the way his eyelashes flutter, the way he says your name when you tug once, lining him up with your entrance. 

  His eyes open in a daze, gaze bouncing between your eyes as he asks, “You’re sure?”

  You’re nodding and then suddenly, wonderfully, beautifully, you’re kissing Steve Harrington as he pushes inside of you. 

  He stops when you gasp around his lips, eyes frantically searching over your face but only finding a blissed out expression with each inch he slips in more. He wishes the camera wasn’t down in the car.

  Next time.

  You envelope him completely, legs rising on either side of his hips and arms around his neck, lips against his as you nod and encourage him to keep going. Each ridge and curve of each other fitting together and nothing between either of you anymore, holding you back. 

  Steve’s hand curls against your waist, forehead pressed to yours when he rolls his hips experimentally and you moan into his mouth again, his name sounding desperate this time. Your hands claw at his back when he starts thrusting and all he can think about is asking you to do it harder and then taking you to the pool tomorrow. Show off how you marked him up while he holds your hand and people stare. 

  His eyes flutter open to find you already staring at him. Your lips mold together in a long kiss, parting in the same breath. Eyes open again as your mouths brush and beg each other’s names, hands caress and memorize over each other’s bodies while they glide together. Steve grabs your hand that tangles the sheets, lacing his fingers with yours and holding on until it’s over, and even when it will be, he has no plans to let go. 

  Your heartbeats thud against chests pressed together, no longer separate rhythms, and each push into you and slow drag out brings you higher and higher and you’re suddenly not so scared of how far the fall is anymore, not with Steve Harrington holding your hand. 

  He presses it tightly into the pillow, breath coming sharp and hating that this is over so quickly. But then you’re looking at him like that, like he’s yours. And he’s looking at you like that. Like you’re his. A scrunched forehead knocks yours and he’s spilling inside of you, warmth flooding over you both as his lips capture yours in another kiss. 

  This kiss, is different. This kiss is like when a storm is over, and not everyone notices, but there’s always a rainbow, somewhere, if you’re patient enough to find it, to search for it. 

  Your hand softens in his hair, the other a comfortable grip in his. His chest sighs against yours, breath fanned across lips that savor and treasure your kiss. 

  Steve lifts up, only slightly, so he can look at you when he says.

  “I love you.”

  Mouths find each other again, swallowing unspoken promises of this only being the beginning.

  Until you’re speaking into the kiss, needing to get the last word.

  “I love you, more.”

  Steve pulls away, looking at your eyes. He shakes his head.

  “Quit lying, honey.”

  Honey.

Thank you SO much for reading this story. I wasn't going to come back and finish it, and I'm so glad I did. And then only reason I was able to was because of sweet comments and reblogs left and those of you who came and sent dms and asks. I hope the wait was worth it and I appreciate you so much! There is a small epilogue, but please read the warnings on it, may not be your thing ✌🏻💛

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[whorbidmore]

okay, ik this is just a vv small blurby thing but death island Leon makes me want to be his househusband and just take care of him, like he ignites smth v domestic in me that just makes me wanna wrap him up in a warm blanket and make him a hot drink while he destresses either with cuddles or by letting me suck his cock dry as he sits on the sofa :33

[nahoyasboyfriend]

If I was this close to him, I think I would immediately combust. Especially if I could feel his breath against me. Kiss me before you kill me please...