#and unsure if you can live u to them

[transfemyoungblood]

Death of a Salesman - Arthur Miller / Roleslaying with Roman

[dazzelmethat]

He has his mother's eyes. ❤️🐓🐍❤️

Young Renard and his mom Zina.

[pennjammin]

run, rabbit, run

JJK HALLOWEEN!! nanamixreader

summary ❥ you babysit for the wealthy single dad who lives across the street. it’s the end of october and his halloween party is the talk of the neighborhood. you’re not invited because the kids are out of town, but you decide to pop up on him anyway, and he shows you just how badly he’s been dying to get you alone without the children.

CONTENT: age gap, 86’d sorcery, dilf!nanami, toys, smut, alcohol, dom!nanami, cunnilingus, afab!reader, fluff, friends to lovers kinda, bossxworker, aftercare, slowwwww burn, reader wears animal ears during sex, breeding kink, spit kink, masochism.

word count. 10k

soundtrack 💿: eating - madeintyo

A/N: i tried to stay away from specific pronouns this time but i just love using the word pussy bro

and this one isn’t so much Halloween-centered or spooky as the others RIP i didn’t forget that it’s halloween but it was hard to keep bringing it up once the smut started lolz

also!!! there’s a joke in here involving the color of 🐱; i know everyone’s is not the same color so , fill in the blank for the color that fits yours if u have one HAHAHAH 😭🙏🏼

✩

You give your ass a good shake.

You’re making sure the long, fluffy tail poking out of your blue shorts isn’t going to fall out. It doesn’t.

You’re dressed as a fox, but not just any fox. A fox cop. You have on a short blue collared top, matching shorts, and of course you’d be no real cop without your utility belt housing fake handcuffs and a plastic baton. To top it all off, you’re wearing fuzzy fox ears on your head, and sheer tights to cover your legs.

You nod in the mirror, satisfied. But the real test, to you, is if Mr. Nanami will like it just as much.

Mr. Nanami is your employer, but more importantly, your neighbor. You watch his two young children five days a week; sometimes even overnight when he has a particularly busy work day. You consider yourself close with them, but your feelings about Nanami are a little deeper than that.

You’d seen him the first time a little under a year ago, when he’d been out on an early morning jog. From then, on you’d become disgustingly obsessed ever since.

Your schoolgirl pining only gets worse every time you see him, and recently you've even gone as far as trying to shamelessly flirt - but he seems to have absolutely no idea. That is the less painful explanation, the other being that he’s just not interested.

But you’re planning to see if you can get that to change tonight. You always dress sensible in front of his children; this will be the first time he's seeing so much skin. It has to work, right?

Tonight, Nanami is throwing the party of the century. He has house workers of all kinds who serve towers of food and delicious mixed drinks. The cherry is that his entire gated lawn has been decorated to the perimeter of fun inflatables and spooky decorations. You know it's mostly for his kids, whom he goes nothing short of above and beyond for.

However, he had informed you days ago that they would be out of town this weekend - and, even if they were not, he's off work, so he doesn’t need you. This means he also had not invited you to his party.

You clearly still intend to show up unannounced, a bold move on your part.

You lock up your house - a small, co-owned property that truly looks out of place across from Nanami's home - which he technically pays the rent for. You carefully make your away across the overcrowded street full of cars, decorations, and humans who are already half past drunk.

As you walk up the stone steps that lead to his front door, your stomach is keyed up. You shouldn't feel any different than you normally do when coming over for work, but you’ve really let this highly unprofessional crush of yours get out of control.

You make it to the porch. You're unsure if he will even hear the doorbell, but you press it anyway. The door slides open after about ten seconds, as if he has been standing there watching it. You feel your body freeze immediately upon seeing him.

Nanami is towering over you in the threshold. His face lights up almost instantly, but that's not all that has your heart threatening to crack open your rib cage; it's also his delicious white button down, popped open by a few to reveal tiny bits of blond chest hair, and then of course there are the long, white ears on top of his head.

“Why hello, officer, did we get a noise complaint?” He chuckles at his own dad joke before bowing his head in greeting. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. I figured you would be thrilled to not have to look at these four walls for a few days while my children are with... their mother.”

You watch his face drop in disgust at the mention of his ex-wife, but he’s never said anything bad about her. Whenever you’d asked why things hadn’t worked out, he’d said "they just didn't." And that was that, but part of you aches to know what had happened.

It shouldn’t matter. He is not interested in you. He gives you a paycheck, and that is all.

"Well," you begin carefully, "Who would want to miss out on the most exclusive Halloween party of the year?"

This coerces a deep laugh out of Nanami, then he steps aside and allows you to walk in. He is holding a short rocks glass of unidentified brown liquor, and you can smell whatever it is in a cloud around him.

Once inside, Nanami’s voice is quite muffled from the clank of dishes and bustle of workers. The two of you stop to stand in the foyer, a grand crystal chandelier winking at you from above.

"Exclusive isn't the word I'd use," he says, following your eyes as he takes a sip. "Everyone and their mother is here. Literally." He tilts his glass towards an elderly woman who stands next to a redhead about Nanami's age.

You should be laughing at his joke but instead, your stomach knots grow tighter at the reminder of how many people his age are here preying on him, the neighborhood catch, with careers and homes of their own.

Nanami is seven years your senior, you think. No wonder he wants nothing to do with a young, non career-oriented thing like you when he has all of these sophisticated people crawling at his feet.

You can't think about that now, or the courage you’ve spent a week building will cease to exist.

"Heh - well, either way," you continue, "it's a big party. I know the kids aren't here, but-"

"But I'm glad you are," Nanami smiles, his eyelids hanging a little low from the liquor in his system. "You look very nice, darling. I like your ears."

He grins and points to his own headband. A grown and very, very large man dressed as something as vulnerable as a little rabbit has your nerves aflame.

"Hmm, I bet you do," you tease. “Like it so much you had to copy me?”

Nanami makes a disapproving sound with his tongue, leaning forward a bit to be eye level with you. "Copy you? I was unaware that rabbits and foxes were the same animal. In fact," he adds, "if I'm not mistaken, foxes are a rabbit's natural predator."

You had been trying to look away from him now that he has moved so close, but as the last sentence rolls out of his mouth, you make the mistake of looking directly into his eyes - and what you see makes your limbs jelly. Maybe it's your delusions, but he seems to be drinking you up equally as much as he is his liquor.

You laugh to pop the bubble of tension, but Nanami's face remains as still as ice.

"Well, I certainly don't think I pose a threat to you, sir," you say, voice unnervingly dry. "You are twice my size."

At this, his intense stare transitions into a soft smile. "You just have to get my guard down. Then, I'm sure a little thing like yourself would be able to have your way with me."

You blink quickly, assuming you've misheard him. Then again, though, he tends to say things that could be flirty - but he is just a naturally charismatic man. Means nothing.

"Ah," you mumble out, shifting your weight from side to side. You have to find a way to change the subject, but most importantly, you need get his attention off of you. You’d wanted it so bad, now you don’t know how to handle it. As you scheme, he sips his drink again, eyes still watching you over the rim of the glass.

"So... the kids always go with their mom on Halloween?" you ask abruptly.

Nanami quickly swallows his sip before shaking his head. "Well I had them for the Fourth of July, you recall."

You do recall. A little too well. Nanami in nothing but tight, black swim shorts and his signature sunglasses as he flipped meat over the grill - and you playing in his pool with the kids. He’d invited you to celebrate the holiday with him after his kids had begged, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. The memory popping into your head almost makes you not hear what he says next.

"We alternate holidays. So I will have them for Thanksgiving, she for Christmas," he shrugs a shoulder. "I would have traded Thanksgiving for Christmas, but alas. Christmas is always the busiest day of the year for me, so they would just miss out on time with their father anyway. I couldn't ask you to ditch your holiday plans for us, again, either."

He sighs. You feel your heart ache; he cares deeply about his kids, but he is definitely a workaholic. That is why you spend every chance you get at his house… well, that’s mostly why. But even then, you sometimes wish you stayed more to help, because Nanami works tireless double shifts, then spends his off days trying to make up for lost time with the kids.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say, attempting to comfort him. "You're an amazing father who is doing all he can. They love you so much."

He smiles and bows his head politely, so as to say thank you. "They love you as well. Sometimes, I think more than they do their mother."

You swallow a choke, before rutting out, “Surely not."

Before Nanami has the chance to reply, an older woman who you’d come to known as Agnes walks by with a large tray arraignment of bright green cocktails.

“Nanamin!” she shrieks out. “Where would you like me to put these? Very afraid of them falling. There’s drunkards crawling up the walls! I’ve already swept up sixteen broken glasses! Sixteen!”

You and Nanami turn to look at her with an equally astonished expression.

Nanami leans forward a bit to whisper in your ear, “My apologies in advance for her erratic behavior.”

Agnes is still staring wildly between the two of you as you giggle, awaiting further instructions from Nanami.

“Sit them wherever you think is safest,” he says calmly.

She huffs but ultimately takes his word, speeding off with her kitten heels clacking against the marble floor.

Nanami turns back to you and opens his mouth, but another voice cuts him off.

“Nanami, sir!”

You feel a twinge of irritation in your chest, but you really shouldn’t. He is the host and people need his attention. You should have seen this coming.

“Is everything okay?” he questions politely, turning to face the short brunette in front of him, who bats her eyelashes.

“I… I think that someone is fighting outside,” she says quickly, unable to keep eye contact.

Nanami is a smart man, though. “Oh? Well, what shall we do about that?”

“I thought you could run and stop them,” she says, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m in no mood to be in the middle of a brawl,” he says sternly. “Have the butlers stop it, and remove them. You try not to get involved either.”

She huffs and spins on her heel, walking back through the living room with an angry stomp in her step.

Nanami clicks his tongue, “I really need to have her counseled in compulsive lying. She cries wolf so many times a day.”

You’ve never seen her before, she must be new. This makes you jealous all over again. She’s not quite as old as the rest of the workers, but still older than you. The issue is you see yourself in her, the uncontrollable pining over your shared boss. She just makes hers much more obvious.

Nanami clears his throat, and you notice too late how his hand has slithered to the small of your back.

“Perhaps we should escape somewhere more secluded, hm?” he says. “I really am enjoying our conversation. A shame we keep getting interrupted.”

You swallow thickly. The hair on your spine has raised at his sudden contact, making you shiver.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, sir,” you say, trying to hide how dry your voice has gotten.

Not another word is uttered before Nanami is swiftly whisking you off to another room; his hands now free of his drink and instead gently guiding you by his hand placement.

His gaze is not as focused on you as it is leading you both through the overwhelming crowd of people, and to the hall under the stairs that you know for a fact leads to his workspace. He moves his hands into yours as he gently pushes you ahead of him.

You take the lead and find yourself pushing open the big door to his study. Inside is a complete reflection of Nanami, his wealth and his cleanliness. Even his desk is free of papers, or any indication at all that he works in here.

You recall the days he works from home, in this very study, and he'd still be in his work suit, just minus the blazer. You'd let the kids sneak in on him, only once or twice thoughout the day, just to see his smile; and while you’re already there, you'd drop off a cup of hot coffee to help him plow through the rest of his shift.

He shuts the doors behind you both as you run to make yourself comfortable in his desk chair, spinning around like a child.

As you do so, you fail to see or hear his fingers slyly clicking the lock on the door.

“Much better,” Nanami breathes, moving to flick on a floor lamp in the corner, giving the study a soft, warm glow accompanied by the full Halloween moon. “Now, what were we discussing?”

“You, uh,” you clear your throat as you stop spinning in the chair to face him. “You really didn’t have to come in here just to talk to me. You are the man of the evening, you know.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, an out-of-character action you never thought you'd see, but one that looked so tasty, so sultry. God, you’re a pervert in heat - and your sweet, sweet boss is completely oblivious to the kind of horrible thoughts you have daily about him.

Nanami's now staring at you. His mouth is moving, but you have no idea what he had been saying.

"… to spend time with all of those shallow, insolent creatures,” you register, “when I have someone like you here?" He walks over to the desk and leans against it, right next to you now, as he crosses his arms over his massive chest. "We have never just sat down and talked. We always have little people depending on us or wanting our attention. Tonight, I’d like that to change.”

You let his words simmer for a moment. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Mr. Nanami?” you then question.

“What did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ nonsense?” He frowns. “That makes me feel so old.”

"Sorry, sir," you gulp, not intending to upset him. You just can't help the way 'Mr.' and 'Sir' roll off your tongue, or how bad you enjoy seeing him shift uncomfortably at the use of the names.

"Meanie," he tuts, knocking you playfully with his leg. Another uncharacteristic action.

"What'd I do?" you blink, tilting your head as you look up at him.

"You mean besides drive me insane with your teasing?" he questions, before his eyes widen and he looks as though he's just spilled a secret. "I- wow, I am sorry. That is not what I meant to say."

"I drive you insane?" you echo. "I didn't even think you noticed my… teasing.”

Nanami's face is neutral, but his jaw is working under his skin. "I’m not naive, little fox." He lets out a breath. “This was truly an excellent costume choice.”

He leans forward and flicks the furry ear on your head.

“Thank you,” you smile. “I can’t say the same for yours. You hardly scream innocent bunny.”

“What about me isn’t innocent?” he raises a brow, standing off of the desk.

“I…” you blink as he walks around to the back of the desk chair. “You’re just, um…”

“Fox got your tongue?” he coos, spinning the chair so that you’re forced to face him.

You inhale a deep breath and hold it as heat travels through your stomach and right to the center of your thighs.

“You’re a man who is about his business,” you say. “I imagine you’ve… had a lot of life experiences,” you pause to remind yourself to breathe, but it’s hard because of how ferociously Nanami is staring into your eyes. “So you c-can’t be all that innocent…”

“You seem nervous,” he coos. “Here. Let’s stand up, I’ll sit down. Maybe that will help you to not be so tense, hm?”

Your body obeys before your mind catches on. You’re standing in a beat, and Nanami has replaced you on the chair. Your bottom hits the crease of his large desk, and you slam your hands down on the surface to balance yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t mean to imply that you make me uncomfortable, sir.”

Nanami's pupils flash white, but it's gone so quickly, you might have imagined it. "If I do, please let me know immediately.”

“No,” you say, dropping your hand, “I just think we need to get to know each other better, right? Our entire relationship is through the kids. I know that your son’s favorite shade of green is kiwi, but I don’t even know your first name.”

Nanami chuckles at this. “You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He taps your knee. “Kento, silly girl. My first name is Kento.”

"A-And your favorite color?” you continue, trying to ignore how close he’s moved the chair towards you, now that you have fully planted your bottom on his desk.

“Pink,” he says, serious as death.

You giggle. “Why pink?”

“It’s the color of my favorite thing to eat,” he says, slowly placing his arms on either side of your thick thighs, hands planted flat on the surface of the desk.

You think for a moment. “Strawberry ice cream?”

“No,” he cocks his blond head to the side and his eyes fall on your tights. “Try again.”

You pretend to think, though you fear you may be catching on now. “Hmm, dragonfruit?”

“Nah,” Nanami says, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His pupils have been dilated from the alcohol, but there is an unrelated darkness in his eye now. “Something I don’t even have to swallow.”

You gulp. “Oh,” your suspicions have been confirmed.

“Get it now, little fox?” he coos.

“Mhmm,” you taunt back. “Well, I suppose I came prepared with your favorite dish, then.”

“Did you?” His hands boldly make their way to the top of your thighs, barely hovering over the skin but enough to make the flesh there light on fire. “Prepared it all nice and pretty for me?”

“Yes sir,” you nod eagerly, feeling your own boldness appear as your knees slide further away from one another. “How do you like it?”

“Extra moist,” he grits hungrily, fingernails curving into your tights and shredding a thick rip! through the material.

You gasp, entire torso lurching forward as he drags the hole bigger and bigger.

“Sorry, little fox. They were in the way,” he shrugs an innocent shoulder. “And what should we do about these shorts? They’re in the way, too.”

“Then let’s get them off,” you whisper, hardly registering that such filth had been uttered.

This truly can’t be happening. Is Nanami… Kento Nanami actually going to eat you out? Are his hands really slithering up your waist and fumbling with the button on your shorts, or are you in some kind of sick daydream?

"Mr. Nanami-"

"Please," he holds up a hand, one still remaining on the button of your shorts. "Kento. Call me Kento."

"Kento," you echo softly, and his eyelashes flutter. “You really want to do this?”

Nanami sucks in a breath. Several moments of silence pass, then his fingers are gently pressing against your chin, and he has risen to tower above you. "Maybe it's the liquid courage in me that's pushing me," he says, "but I’m okay with that. I dream about you on my tongue, night after night. I need you, Y/N.”

Instead of allowing you to reply, Nanami's lips are assaulting yours in a flash. A harsh, irrational kiss from a man who's lost his battle of self control.

Your hands fly up to his face to balance yourself at the sheer force the shock of the kiss has on you. He groans softly into you as your lips mold together, getting used to the shapes of each other’s mouths.

You want to begin deepening the kiss, but Nanami is suddenly pulling away.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. You look at his face; for a man who is always so calm and composed, he is flushed and even shaking a little. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

"Did you hear me complaining?" you ask sternly.

“No-”

“Then shut up and kiss me, Kento.”

He wastes no time obeying your command; this time as he kisses you, his hands find the soft skin where your hips crease into your thighs. You’re aware of your thighs rubbing against his stomach as he crawls further on top of you.

You slide your arms up around the back of his neck to hold onto him as his lips work pure ecstasy into your mouth.

You sigh against him and he digs his fingers into your sides to get you to do it again. Now his tongue is in your mouth, softly swirling your own, smacking fiercely on your lips as he does so.

You're panting now, but Nanami is swallowing your breath with every second. He's leaning his weight on his palm, so his body isn't quite attached to yours, but you want to make him lose his balance so he can crash down on top of you. Every moment that you stay like this, your cunt drips wetter and wetter, seeping through your shorts onto his desk.

"So perfect," Nanami utters into your mouth, "s'much sweeter than I deserve."

You frown at his self deprecation but don't comment, instead your hands start sliding down his chiseled back, exploring the deep ridges and shapes of pure, hard muscle.

Then, plop! You blink in shock as his bunny ears have fallen plum onto your face, nearly gauging out your eye.

"Oh," he gasps, breaking away from you. "Forgot about these."

He pulls away from you, standing upright but staying between your legs. You swallow a needy whine at his absence, before sitting up with him, staring expectantly.

"Think they'll look better on you though, huh, darling?" he coos, reaching over your head and plucking your fuzzy ears off. Then, he’s replacing them with his bunny ears. "There, that's more fitting. I feel much more like the hunter than the hunted.”

You tilt your chin defiantly. "Mm, so I'm just an innocent rabbit in the sights of a dangerous hunter?"

“Clever bunny,” Nanami murmurs, leaning forward and catching you by surprise with a wet kiss at the nape of your neck. You shudder. “Time for me to eat my latest catch, hm?”

“I-I guess so-”

“Oh, don't get shy now, bunny,” he mewls against your ear. “Do you want to do this?”

You pretend to consider it, but your dripping hole has already answered for you. "Yes, sir."

Nanami purrs in response and taps your earlobe with his perfect teeth - before you're being shoved back on the flat surface. Three quick beats occur. Beat, shorts off. Beat, tights off. Beat, panties sliding slowly down your legs.

"God," he says, hooking his fingers over the trim of the panties, which are light blue in color, accented by an adorable pink bow in the front. "All this time, I could've had you like this, if only-” he cuts himself off to lean down and place a kiss to your inner knee.

Your nerves send repeated quivers over you. You dig your nails into the desk, but your palms are so sweaty that your hand slips. Nanami catches you, a heavy hand on your lower back, the other hand entangling in your panties and proceeding to rip them all the way off. Your clothes are now in a discarded pile to the right of you, fuzzy tail and ears a reminder of what got you into this position in the first place.

“Well we can make up for lost time now,” you whisper, sliding your feet farther apart until your knees are angled into the air - gaping pussy winking up at Nanami.

His eyes nearly jump from his body as he watches you open up for him, glistening cunt all in his face. He's sinking back down into the chair before either of you really processes it, and his heavy palms fall flat on your inner thighs.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart," he coos, the breath from his words tickling your clit and making you writhe pathetically. "Haven't even touched you yet. Why are you shaking?”

You whine out in embarrassment. Something about your most perverted fantasies coming alive before you, Nanami talking to you like this, and him staring directly at the forbidden parts you'd never thought he'd see, is depleting your confidence.

"What's wrong, bunny?" he asks, reading your expression. "You look like you are second guessing this."

"N-No!" you cry out, making him jump, before you sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. No, I want to. I'm just embarrassed."

"Why?" he perks a brow, astonished.

"Because you're so..." you huff uncomfortably, "fine, and here I am, of course anyone would be embarrassed of their own genitals, y'know I just kind of never expected this and-”

"Y/N," Nanami interrupts. "I've seen plenty of these before; all different types, sizes and colors. I am going to devour you regardless of what you think.”

You swallow thickly. Your head nods like a puppet, though you're unsure if that's you saying you understand, or telling him to go ahead.

While you're deciding, Nanami plants a kiss to your bikini line, then slides his hands to wrap his arms around your thighs so that it's now impossible for you to close them. Your stomach is on fire, and you're on the verge of gyrating your pelvis right into his stupidly perfect face.

"Tell me you want this, bunny," Nanami rasps, placing another loud kiss to your inner thigh.

"I want this," you confirm again, "want you."

You don't have to say anything else because his mouth has already found your clit. Warm breath travels between your folds as he keeps his tongue narrowed out to swirl agonizingly slow circles over the bulb.

Your hips convulse against his strength. It does nothing except prompt Nanami to flatten his whole mouth over your heat and pick up speed with his tongue.

"Oh, ohh," you drawl, your hands leaving the desk surface and going right through his fine hair. His hold on you ensures you can’t fall backwards, but you’re gripping his roots for dear life.

He grumbles against your cunt and you feel it all the way up to your ovulating uterus. The desire to have your womb house more of his children starts to enter your brain and you have to remind yourself that this is just sex.

Oh, but it's so much more than that. Nanami's taking his time to work your body, to know exactly which pace makes you cry out like a pathetic fucktoy, noting when you wriggle under his grip, as he pushes his fingertips into the flesh on your legs.

His warm tongue keeps your puffy lips parted effortlessly; lathering you up with his saliva, drinking in the fluid your body creates more of each second.

You sit up farther to look down at him; his eyebrows are furrowed and focused, his cheeks hollowed as he treats your twitching clit like his tongue’s dance partner.

He swirls, flicks, slurps - each variation unlocking a new noise from you as you fight back your orgasm.

As you watch him, your fucked-out, needy brain begins to tell you would give him whatever he wanted in this moment; six children and a house from scratch if that's what he requested. Because he deserves it; the way his tongue’s now dipping slightly into your desperate hole, making your hips jerk from the desk until he counter-forces them with his hands.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps, grazing his teeth over your clit.

You can’t even speak; he’s eaten your voice right out of you. His head shakes side to side as he plants his mouth back on you and peers up through his blond lashes, daring you to pull that stunt a second time.

Your hands are still deeply entangled in his roots, but at this point you can't keep your eyes in the front of your head. Your head lolls back on your neck as your hips twitch with an unholy amount of momentum. Your moans are growing dangerously loud; knowing full well there's an entire party nearby, as well as the possibility of nosy maids. Not that either of you care.

"Kento, s-so good," you lament, bucking your hips into his chin as if you could chase more pleasure than he's already giving you. The heat in your stomach is the first indication that your pleasure is morphing into an orgasm, but you don’t want to cum yet.

You want to try and run again, just to give yourself a little time to catch up…

The minute Nanami feels your hip bones sliding away from him, he pulls his mouth off of you; your orgasm slipping away. You take a deep breath in regret.

“Someone must not want to cum,” he taunts, keeping his mouth close to your trickling cunt. “Need you to stay still.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, trembling.

“Try for me?” Nanami requests softly, lifting your thighs into the air before plopping your feet flat on his shoulders.

He plants a heavy kiss to your clit after the adjustment in your position and you dig your toes into his back.

“F-For you,” you repeat mindlessly, brain officially scrambled like a breakfast platter.

“Mmh-” Nanami grunts, planting his fat tongue back between your slick folds, working his jaw intensely to finish pulling the orgasm out of you. He sticks the narrow tip back at your hole, flicking the rim of the inside as if it’s his purpose for living.

Your toes lift into the air as Nanami tests your flexibility, pushing your knees next to your ears. With the pressure built up in your stomach, you barely have time to mutter out the announcement of your orgasm before you're cumming all over his tongue and clenching your walls around the wet muscle.

"Give it to me, bunny," he moans, words muffled because of the way you're gripping his tongue with your pussy.

You keep shaking for a solid thirty seconds, because he is refusing to take his tongue out of you. When finally you’ve calmed to a slight twitch, he removes his face from between your thighs and the entire lower half of his face glistens in the light.

"That's one," he murmurs to himself, crawling back over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. "You did so well. You taste so sweet, bun.”

"Can I return the favor?" you ask needily, dragging your palm down his chest.

He grinds his pelvis across your lower half, so that you can feel the sheer length of his bulge beneath his pants. "What for?"

Your eyes widen at just how large it feels; surely it's smaller than it appears.

"Wanna please you, sir," you babble out, watching his eyebrows furrow at the self-proclaimed pet name.

"Hm, think that ship sailed long ago,” he chuckles, rubbing his clothed dick against your inner thigh this time, and now, you take notice of the warm trail of precum that’s leaked through his pants onto your skin.

You dig your nails into his chest instead of replying. He bites back a groan and kisses your neck.

“I’m going to have to restrain you if you want’a keep being so touchy," he whispers sternly.

"I do have handcuffs," you say, following it with a giggle. Though you’re only half joking.

"That's cute," he mewls. "You think I need handcuffs to restrain you?" He pauses. "What's that you said? That I'm twice your size?"

You swallow thickly, remembering that you had, in fact, said that.

"So I can, and will easily pin you down, bun," he continues. "Don't act up, and I won't have to, yeah?"

You wish you can say you won’t, but if he thinks you dislike the idea of being pinned down, he must not be faking his innocence, like you’d thought.

A moment later, he's standing away from you, and his hands expertly unbutton his shirt. You watch him with desire, and he smiles a little shyly at you as he shrugs off the garment and tosses it to the floor.

“Funny, you’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says suddenly. “Why do I feel a bit nervous about it this time?”

You giggle and cock your head to the side, legs still spread wide. “Should’ve always felt nervous. I’m a huge pervert, y’know.”

Nanami dips his head before coming back to be close to your body again, his fingers mindlessly tugging on the hem of your shirt now.

“I know,” he whispers. “A little minx, you are.”

“Took you long enough to realize it, hm?” you tease as you lift your arms to assist him in removing the shirt. But you are caught off guard when he doesn’t continue.

"You're still sure you want to do this?" he questions, changing the subject. “I'm sorry. I'm going to ask a hundred times, it’s just a habit.”

"Yes, Kento," you rasp frustratingly. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg to be fucked for you to get it?"

He blinks, stunned, as if that is not something he ever considered; but does sound appealing to him.

"No," he says quickly, slowly lifting your shirt further over your body. "How did we end up here, hm? Was this your plan from the moment you crashed my Halloween party?"

"Uh-uh," you say innocently, as he pulls the shirt over your head. Now you sit completely naked in front of him - save for the bunny ears on your head.

"I get the feeling you're a big, fat liar," he teases, leaning back over you, now your stomachs are touching and everywhere your skin meets is tingling. "Didn't I tell you to be a good girl? Good girls don't lie."

“‘M not lying," you argue. "Admit you were over here waiting for me to show up all night."

"Maybe I was," he murmurs, dragging his top teeth over the connection between your neck and your shoulder before planting a wet kiss on your collar bone. "And you came for me, like always."

A gasp erupts from your throat and Nanami cuts it off by sliding his hand there. He uses his fingers to apply the gentlest amount of pressure to the sides of your neck and your body arches against him.

"Tell me if anything I do is too much for you, little fox," he coos in your ear before dropping his hand from your neck and standing back straight to quickly unbuckle his belt.

He slides the garment out of his belt loops, and discards it to the side, on top of your clothes. So in other words: close by.

"Kento," you pant, "please."

"Please what?" he questions, raising a brow innocently as he pops open the button to his tight pants - visibly taking a deep breath as his bulge pokes free.

"You're dragging this out," you whine. "I've needed you for so long. This is torture."

"So what?" he shrugs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor, where he steps out of them.

"I..." you cut yourself off with a frustrated grunt.

"You said please, but you aren't using your words, little fox.” He slides his body back over yours - his boxers now being the only barrier between you. "What do you want?"

"You, your cock, your mouth," you pant all of it out in one quick sentence. "I... I just need you inside of me, Mr. Nanami."

Your breasts rub against his hard chest, teasing your achingly hard nipples. Just so pathetic. Can’t control yourself. Your brain's swirling with desire and ecstasy for him. If he can't read your mind, you're sure he can see it in your face.

"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice returning to its usual softness, "you got me. All yours."

He tugs his boxers down quickly, desperately. Now your hips are aligned to each other's. He's still hovering, his cock not even touching you yet. He slides a hand between your legs as his other keeps you steady, gripping harshly on your hip which is sure to leave a delicious bruise.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he drags his mouth across your jaw before attaching his lips to your neck. His fingers gather the drip from your hole, and then he slides them up through your folds and to your clit. He swirls the fingers softly, keeping his ear right next to your mouth so that he can hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your legs shake against his ribs while you moan for him, and he grunts as he takes in all of your body's reactions to his touch.

He goes to try and put a finger in your cunt but you grab his wrist. He does not argue with you, which should be a red flag, but you think you’ve won until he takes the hand he had been using to play with you and grips your wrist, yanking it back, and your entire body goes falling against the desk.

Somehow, both of your wrists are being pinned to the wood in one large hand now. You whine and squirm under him, but he doesn't care. His free hand grabs his cock.

He takes the heavy tip and taps it against your clit several times, each time causing you to gasp and arch against him.

"That's right," he whispers above you. "No escaping now, bun."

You blink up at him, lifting your hips to grind your pussy on him, which causes his lips to part and his eyebrows to furrow.

You open your mouth, tongue flying out, wanting to appeal to another twisted fantasy. “Need your spit,” you mumble shyly.

He seems to ponder for a moment before he realizes what exactly it is you are asking, and a moment later he is leaning forward, dripping a warm glop of saliva from his mouth down your throat.

“Mmh-” you moan as you swallow happily, before looking down between your legs where he is finally done lubricating himself on your juice. He's staring at you hopelessly, as if he’s thinking that putting his cock in you isn't going to be enough.

“So nasty,” he coos, “ready for me, sweetheart?”

"Hngh- please," you beg.

Not a second later, hot pressure is at your hole. Nanami slides his hips upward to push himself deeper, deeper, deeper - the girth feeling like it's going to simply rip you in half.

You shriek and shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It doesn't.

You feel so embarrassed as he takes his free hand to lift up your left thigh, because pain shoots up through your stomach - and not the good kind.

"Ah- wait," you cry out, eyes falling open.

Nanami stops immediately. "What's the matter?"

"It... it hurts," you admit shyly, biting your lip. "Wh-Why d'you have to be so big?"

"Why d'you have to be so tight?" he chuckles back, but carefully slides out of you. "Hang on. I know what will help, little fox."

He pulls away from you, letting go of your wrists to lean over and dig into a random drawer in his desk. You have no idea what he could possibly be doing until he stands back straight, a hand still holding up your leg, while the other holds a small, light pink, bullet-shaped rubber object.

"Brand new," he says, eyeing it as he rotates it between his fingers. "Just put batteries in it."

You swallow as you realize what this implies. He knew he was going to fuck you - or at least, that he was going to use this toy on you at some point. Or, a third worse thing: it hadn't been for you at all.

You don’t want to think about that possibility, though.

He hands the little toy to you, a small buzz coming from it already.

"Hold it for me," he instructs. "I need my hands to keep my prey from running."

You gulp and do as he says, and again he is taking his cock head and pushing it against you, before it slides through the gummy entrance and you cry out again.

You hold the toy to your clit and the feeling travels straight through your veins. You focus on the vibrations and before you can even inhale again, your insides are completely full.

"Deep breaths, bun," he grunts, "feel her o-opening up… now.”

Did he just stutter? Kento Nanami, who's always so composed. You'd made him lose his wording. You.

Nanami takes his hands and pulls your knees up, holding them to his sides, while you keep your hand occupied on the little bullet between your legs.

The combination of the toy plus his cock filling you up and molding your walls against it has you aching to spill over, already.

Now that the searing has begun to dissolve, his cock is gliding effortlessly inside of you - feeling as though the organ was crafted to fit you perfectly. Your juices cover every inch of him, delicious squelches creating a symphony with your moans as Nanami's pace quickens.

He has his hands still pressed on your thighs but he leans forward and gently pulls a nipple into his warm mouth. You don't know what to do with your free hand, so it ends up on his back, nails mercilessly breaking open his skin. He hisses and nips your nipple between his teeth.

"Fuck. Me," he groans, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. You want to make a comment about how you already are, but he just looks so fucked out - so vulnerable. Lips puffy and wet, eyes shut tight, hair dangling over his forehead.

He’s ruined.

He claws his fingers into your outer thighs. His fingers dig so hopelessly into you as his cock swirls your insides, his hips now moving in a rhythmic wave motion.

Your hand falls away from your clit with the toy and you hardly notice that it's gone because now, his pelvis is brushing over it, sweat practically gluing the two of you together.

"Aw," he purrs, and you look up to see that his eyes are staring directly between your legs. "You’re creaming all over me. Shit - your cunt looks so good, swallowing me up.”

Your face heats and you take your hands to grip his arms, as he's now drilling into you so torturously that you're gliding up the desk - the sweat on your back making your skin slick. He notices you're moving away and shifts his hands to grab your hips, holding you down onto him, and now his fat tip is violating your cervix.

"H-Hah Kento, ngh - God," is all you can manage to say, but there’s nothing holy about what his cock is doing to you, as he angles himself upward, attacking your uterus from a new direction.

You shriek, so horribly loud. It sounds like a horror movie - which is fitting. You’ve nearly forgotten that it’s Halloween night; the moon full, your passions like the tides, being pulled to their peak.

You desperately feel a needy confession on your lips but you know that now isn't the time. You can't love a man you don't date... right? But you definitely love the way he's tearing up your insides, sure to leave you swollen and limping.

"I don't remember telling you that you could remove your hand," he snaps, realizing you’ve removed the bullet, "put it back. Now."

You shake your head, begging for mercy. "Was too much, c-can't take it."

"Yes you can," he whispers, leaning forward and hovering his mouth over yours, cognac-scented breath teasing your parted lips. "Put it back, or I stop."

You whine and obey, the vibration revisiting your clit making your body convulse against him.

"Mhmm, like that sweetheart," Nanami coos, staring at you as your face twists every couple of seconds from the introduction of new kinds of pleasure. "Stick that tongue back out for me."

Your mouth is open, drool practically spilling out of the sides in a millisecond. He's spitting another alcoholic saliva drop into your mouth the next.

His breath is ragged as he drags out, "Thought I knew everything. But y’teaching - hah - me new things. Like how I can never live without your pretty pussy, ever again."

You quiver your lip and dig your nails into his back again, ready to cum on his cock.

"S-Stop talking like that," you grit out. "G-Gonna cum if you don't stop."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he questions harshly. "You can cum over and over. I’m not finished with you."

You shake your head, but before you can fire back, Nanami is suddenly sliding himself out of you. You panic and sit up, staring at him with wide eyes as he drops to sit on the chair.

His hands come up to grab your hips roughly, and he's effortlessly pulling you down off of the desk. Your stomach makes contact with his thighs as he lays you over his lap like a disobedient child.

"Nanami?" you breathe, but he doesn't seem to hear you at all.

"We just needed to pause for a second," he says softly, running a hand down your spine and over the hill of your ass. His voice is very misleading, as are his gentle gestures; you have no idea what's coming.

"N-No," you whine, "I was so close."

"But, naughty bunny, didn’t you tell me to stop?" he questions, distracting you from the fact that his fingers are sliding between your asscheeks and down to your swollen hole.

You jerk in his lap as two of his fingers glide down your slick, parting your thick lips, repeating the process several times just to watch you squirm.

“Y-Yes, but-”

“What’d I tell you about lying?” he grits, and a blink later his fingers have parted from your skin.

You turn to scold him and his hand cracks down on the back of your thighs.

You yelp, but the action exhilarates you in some kind of disgusting way.

“Oh, and here’s another for calling me Nanami,” he spits, another crack landing on your backside but this time - higher, and harder.

“K-Kento, I’m sorry,” you whine, but you truly don’t want it to stop. Your fingers dig into his leg and he hisses, his cock jerking against your stomach as his body responds.

“How sorry, bun?” he coos, voice faking softness before another pop! of his palm stings your skin.

“I’ll be good, promise,” you whisper, arching your hips up to encourage another smack.

“You like this, don’t you, naughty bunny?” he realizes suddenly, and you try to shake your head in denial - but he’s caught on. “Hm. I’ll only accept your apology if you give me two more orgasms. Deal?”

“Two?” you cry. “I-I’ve already had one!”

“Good things always cum in threes, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand over the pretty hand-shaped welps he’s left on your skin. “You can give it to me. You want to be good, don’t you?”

You don’t know when the shift happened, but you loved it. You loved how he was letting his soft facade crumble to the ground so that he could truly slap you around like you were just a hole. Truthfully, that’s all you wanted to be. Wanted to let him take out the stress of being a single father on your guts, fill you up with more babies to care for, and then kiss you on the forehead when it was all done.

Pathetic. This is still your employer, your boss. And not to mention how much older he is. You don’t care, but you’re unsure if he does.

“I wanna cum again, please,” you beg, wriggling your ass up to show him you still needed punishment.

He groans before his two thick fingers are pressing between your lips and then, shoving through the soft ring at your center.

Your body shamelessly arches, but he allows your arms to stay free, clawing into his skin wherever you can get a grip.

Nanami is making his own noises above you but you’re on the verge of tears, wailing and carrying on as he fucks you with his fingers, curling the tips into your squishy ridges to try and drive the cum out of you faster.

“Maybe we should get one of those tails with a plug,” he comments, tone implying he’s thinking out loud. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you in your cute little tail while I fuck you.”

“Hngh - no, mmh…” you don’t even know what noises to make anymore. Words escape your brain.

Nothing but mush and the burning of your approaching orgasm are on your mind.

“Hold it in for me,” Nanami requests suddenly, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready for it, sweetheart.”

“God,” you shake your head and clench your thighs, but Nanami’s strong hand forces them back apart.

Your toes curl on the other side of the chair, your head falling forward. The pulse in Nanami’s cock is still drumming against your abdomen, as if knocking on your tummy to threaten you to hold your orgasm.

“I-I can’t,” you say, “Please, can I-”

“Cum.”

Nasty, wet squelches don’t stop as your body sends you over the edge. Your vision blacks and you shake so hard that you nearly roll right to the floor.

He hums approvingly, slowing his fingers down as you clench around them. “Good job, bun. Only one more to go.”

“I can’t take another,” you shake your head, as he gently guides you up into a sitting position on his lap.

“You’re so strong,” he says, “the perfect person for me. The way you always take care of me and the kids, how you fit so effortlessly into our little family. I know you can do this for me, sweetheart. Let me repay you for all that you do for us. Make you feel good.”

You hadn’t expected this little speech. It almost brings you to tears as Nanami gently rubs your back, sliding his free arm underneath your legs to lift you princess-style back onto the desk.

“Say something,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

“I wanted to be good for you,” you grin softly, and he smiles back as he runs his hands gently over the top of your legs. “But you want to be good for me. Which is it?”

“Both,” Nanami whispers. “I told you that you already do everything that keeps me content. Now, I want to please you.”

You realize that he is passing his power off to you. Letting his dominance slip through his fingers and right into the palm of your hand. You think you can handle being in control for your final orgasm, so you grip him harshly by his cock and scoot your ass to the edge of the desk.

He moans so softly that it could have been a whimper. You take his curvy length and drag it up to be aligned with your hole.

“Is your cock alone gonna please me, hm?” you purr, swirling your hips to tease his cock head, salty precum spreading across your hole.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he mutters, body lurching forward as if he’s the overstimulated one.

“Prove it,” you quip, shoving him back inside of you before pushing your hips down onto him.

You furrow your eyebrows to try and pretend the pain of him entering isn’t still intense. You lift yourself off of your palms and feet, using them to fuck down onto his twitching cock.

“Hah - Y/N,” he speaks your name in two sultry syllables, putting his hands on the desk to fully release his control as you use him.

“Baby, I need to fill you up,” he continues, “b-but if you don’t want me to…”

“Yes,” you say, “want me to have your babies, Mr. Nanami?”

“Oh,” he whimpers, “shit. Shit, don’t say stuff like that.”

You whirl your hips on him in the shape of an ‘O.’

“Want to breed me?” you continue. “Make me all big and pregnant?”

“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly, hand clamoring down on the belt that is to your side, before he grips the garment in his hand. He sits up from where he’d been leaning on you, before taking the leather and slithering it around your neck, pulling it through the buckle, and yanking it towards him like you’re just a pathetic bitch on a leash.

“You had your fun,” he grits, “now you need to remember your place, bunny. I’m going to fill you to the brim until your cunt can’t take anymore and it drips back out of you, got it?”

“Mmh,” you pull against his belt as your hips are no longer the once controlling the pace. “Nanami, n-nooo…”

Your voice tapers off as he fucks you, fucks you so good and hard and mean until you’re drooling and crying and shaking and hissing and-

“Cumming!” you scream, but Nanami shows no signs of slowing down.

“That’s it,” he says. “Number three. What about four?”

“Y-You said…”

“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to lie around here?” he chuckles, a deep hypnotic sound that vibrates against your chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna - ngh” and one viscid moment later, Nanami begins to shudder, and it is the beginning of the end.

You cannot tell if you are mourning or rejoicing the conclusion of this insane chain of events, but you forget all about it when Nanami is spurting hot semen all over your taut, spongey walls - that are now sore and quivering from the excessive abuse.

Your name leaves his lips in between the sultry noises he makes, and his body jerks on top of you until he’s finished spewing his load. Now, he stands in front of you with his head dipped down as he pants for several seconds.

“Do you understand how addicting you are?” are the first words that leave his lips after he is able to drag his head up to look at you.

You’re focused on your own huffing as you try to come up with a witty response, but with your brain so fucked out, the only thing you can mutter is “Oh, Kento.”

He nestles his sweaty face into your neck and plants a feathery kiss there, reminding you that he is still the same gentle Nanami that tucks his children in bed at night and drinks green tea in the garden.

He is everything you have dreamed of, but the sex had truly sealed it. Now, as he slips out of you and his cum follows soon after, you feel your post-high clarity morphing into embarrassment at the fact that all you’d been feeling is lust; Nanami deserves so much more than that, including his recognition as a father.

“Why are you staring at me? Have I still got your nectar on my face?” he jokes, and you admire his ability to loosen the tension.

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I just think you are amazing. I don’t want you to think I really did just come for some cock.”

At this, he laughs so hard that his torso shakes. You smile, as it is rare to hear, and you are the cause of it.

He grabs his shirt and begins to use it to wipe himself off, then does the same for you, his movements intentional and gentle as he cleans you up, rubbing all of the puffy, red reminders on your body softly.

“I don’t think that,” he says with a crooked smile. “But whatever the case, I do hope that things have… changed between us.”

You scoff. “I should hope so,” you tease, tilting your head as he stops his hands on your body. “I hope you’re not going around making every person who comes near you cum three times in one sitting and expect to just be friends.”

He grins. “Nah, that treatment is reserved for you, bun.” His hands slide up your hair and pat the fuzzy ears on your head. “We should keep these around, though. But I’d like to take you out before we use them again.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring his face to yours, planting a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course. You did say good things come in threes,” you grin. “The sex was one. The date will be two. What’s three?”

And your question gets answered nine months later, when Nanami proposes to you on a white beach in another country.

…Right before you go into labor.

But of course, once the baby is out, it’s time to start on number 4 the following Halloween.

A/N 2.0

ty all sm for the love on this series so far i’m rlly havin the time of my life writing all these twisted monster-fucker stories ^.^

~ pennjammin

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

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

word count: 13.6k

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

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

𝜗𝜚

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

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

“Hey, Steve.”

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

You’re not quite sure where to start.

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

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

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

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

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

We’ll, he says. A team.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But the frame-”

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

“Steve-”

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

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

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

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

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

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

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s it.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Steve asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

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

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

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

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

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

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

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

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my-”

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

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

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

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re not stealing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll miss it, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what I thought.”

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

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

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

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

Steve’s never nervous around you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3

[maxlarens]

CL: guess the heat drives people crazy

pairing(s): charles leclerc x artist!reader

summary: you’re not used to having a boyfriend, let alone having a famous one. though you’d like to think you’re taking your new found status as a wag in your stride. charles certainly thinks so. [smau] [part 2 to this fic]

fc: faceless and some alexandra saint mleux

a/n: sorry this took so long! i was honestly kinda unsure how i wanted to do this. i wasn’t sure if i wanted to do a little storyline but i basically ended up just doing a bunch of little snapshots of their relationship 😇

@ynusername just posted…

liked by @rowan, @charlesleclerc and others

ynusername wildflowers, the waves where we met, on the way to our first dinner

chloegarelli i did that!☝🏻☝🏻

⤷ ynusername okay 😐 dont get too big for ur britches

user1 is that……..?

⤷ user2 CHARLES RIGHT?

⤷ user1 yes wtf!?

⤷ user3 you are delusional you can only see his hands

⤷ user2 AND?? he is in her likes

rowan we did it joe‼️

⤷ chloegarelli four years in the making iktr

⤷ chloegarelli i’d like to thank the american people and i’d like to thank democracy for this win

⤷ ynusername we are MONEGASQUE?

⤷ ynusername anyway u guys are the most insane couple i have ever met

⤷ rowan and you’re stuck with us foreverrrr

user4 no one is talking about how adorable this is. the waves where we met like UR KIDDING!

⤷ user5 if she is actually dating charles then he is literally the luckiest man alive

@f1wagupdates just posted…

tagged @ynusername @charlesleclerc

liked by @chloegarelli, @ynusername and others

f1wagupdates ‼️🚨 new wag alert 🚨‼️ monegasque painter yn yln has been spotted getting cozy with charles on his yacht. it’s believed they met while on holiday in italy several months ago🥺

user1 fell to my knees in the grocery store

⤷ user1 THAT SHOULD BE ME

⤷ user1 but if it had to be anyone else im glad its her

user2 oh i KNEW that was him on her instagram three months ago. vindication.

user3 stop she is so pretty

⤷ user4 like attracts like

rowan cats out of the bag @chloegarelli

⤷ chloegarelli WE DID THIS EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU

⤷ user5 thank you oh my god

⤷ user6 THANK YOU

⤷ charlesleclerc thank you😁

[❤️ by f1wagupdates]

user7 need to see them together at a race

⤷ user8 CHARLES GET HER ON THE PADDOCK

⤷ charlesleclerc 🫡

ynusername oh my god. not the picture of him pushing me into the water😐

⤷ user9 OH i love her ur honour

⤷ f1wagupdates I’M SORRY!

⤷ rowan don’t apologise its so perfect

⤷ charlesleclerc Stop I tripped!!!!!!!!! I told you!!!!!

⤷ ynusername u did NOT trip!!!!

⤷ user10 they are my everything wtf

@ynusername just posted…

tagged @charlesleclerc

liked by @charlesleclerc @f1 @scuderiaferrari and others

ynusername charles, the week we met we talked about what the monaco gp meant to you. the place your dreams took root, the one race you wanted so badly it hurt, the city you wanted to love you back. i could feel your yearning for that win as deeply as i feel for my own ambitions. i knew then that we understood each other like i have never understood anyone else in my life. and i knew, somehow i knew, that you would be on the top step of that podium. charles, i am endlessly proud of you and all the hard work you did to get here. you deserve this. i love you. and monaco loves you.

user1 charles monaco gp win you are everything to me

user2 they’re in love in love!!! WTFFFF

scuderiaferrari ❤️

user3 god let me have what they have i cant handle this

chloegarelli im tearing up yall are like my babies

user4 HE DID IT!!!!

charlesleclerc oh I love you I love you I love you

⤷ charlesleclerc How would I have done this without you?

⤷ ynusername I am so proud of you baby. I love you ❤️

⤷ user5 this interaction changed lives

⤷ user6 how do i reasonably find love after this. how am i supposed to be satisfied with anything less???

🎨 i just KNOW her caption would make the rounds on tumblr

[lovebugism]

shy!reader goes to the pool with Eddie and is too afraid to wear her swimsuit in front of him? Maybe she’s wearing clothes over her bikini/one piece and doesn’t want to undress at first because of her nerves lol

hope u like it! — you still get a little nervous showing your body, but eddie takes it all in stride (shy!fem!r, established relationship, cw for mentions of body insecurity, 1.1k)

Eddie’s rubber flip-flops are much too big on your feet. You fight to keep them on and match his longer strides at the same time. He leads you down the scenic trail of the Harrington vacation home with one hand curled intently around your own. He doesn’t seem phased by the dirt clinging to his bare feet.

“Think Steve’s folks will get mad if we skinny dip?” he jokes over his shoulder, wild curls billowing in the late afternoon wind.

You shrug. “I don’t think they own the lake, so…”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he scoffs.

“Me neither,” you concur with a quiet laugh.

A set of wooden steps lead off the trail and towards the shore. They creak under your weight, ancient and half-eroded with time. Eddie stands beside you on the dock, lips curled into a pink, lopsided smile. “Well, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” he quips before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You giggle when he lifts the fabric up and over his head. His milky white torso is left on display for you, sprinkled with sparse hair and a couple of faded tattoos. His body is lanky and lean — stomach soft with gentle pudge where his happy trail begins. You couldn’t hide your leering if you wanted to.

“You’re crazy,” you say, still laughing.

“Crazy for you,” the boy croons. 

You watch him reach for the buttons of his jeans, fumbling with them for a moment. Your chest swirls with a strange, hollow feeling. “Wait— Are you serious?” you wonder with wide, glimmering eyes. You’ve never felt totally comfortable swimming in a bathing suit, let alone naked.

Eddie shrugs his freckled shoulders and tugs his jeans down his scruffy thighs. “Yeah. Why not?”

He’s left in his thin, plaid boxers now. He doesn’t seem nearly as fazed by it as you do. Heart thrumming like an anxious hummingbird, your eyes dart over your shoulder and back to him. “What if the others see?!”

“Then let ‘em see,” he chuckles, golden like the early setting sun. “Who cares?”

I care, you almost say, ‘cause you’re too pretty, and I’m not pretty enough. 

You swallow your loathing and instead reply, “Steve would never let you live it down if he caught you out here. You know that.”

Eddie’s bare feet pad against the creaking wooden dock. The sound is mostly drowned out by the waves ebbing and flowing beneath you. Nothing could hide the heavenly sound of his laughter, though. “What? That I’m skinnydipping with the prettiest girl in Indiana?” the boy retorts with a boyish chuckle. “I wouldn’t want him to let me live it down.”

You swallow hard, not swayed by the compliment. Your unsure gaze flits to your feet and the black sandals Eddie lent you on the way down. You see his paler, bare ones come into view just before his calloused palms smooth over your waist — above the oversized t-shirt you wear, which also belongs to the boy in front of you.

“I’m just… I’m just kidding, you know? About the skinnydipping thing,” Eddie assures you, suddenly serious and much quieter with it. His head ducks down to catch your falling gaze. His chocolate eyes sparkle beneath the yellow sun. His lips curl into a lopsided smile. “We don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. We never have to do anything you don’t want, you know that.”

You purse your lips to the side and think for a moment. You’re not nearly as at ease swimming naked as he is, but you’d be silly to turn down the opportunity to be alone with him. You have spent the entire weekend babysitting, after all.

“Can I keep my bathing suit on?” you wonder sheepishly.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you can! You can do whatever you want, doll. I’m followin’ your lead here.”

He smacks a kiss to your lips, mouth tasting of nicotine, soda, and strawberries — like nostalgia and springtime.

“Can you turn around?”

Eddie meets your coy look with a wider smile. “Yeah. Sure,” he hums and steps back from you to spin on his heel. You know he’ll see you in your bathing suit before you step foot in the water, but you’ve always felt distinctly smothered by his gaze. You don’t feel half deserving of the adoration always swimming in the deep brown of them.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, you know?” he quips without looking at you.

“It’s different,” you insist, pulling your t-shirt up and over your head. You fold it neatly before setting it gingerly on the dock. You’re left in the pretty one-piece you thrifted before the trip — a floral number that dips low at the chest and ties into a bow at the back.

Eddie doesn’t really understand, but he figures he doesn’t have to. He’ll do whatever makes you most comfortable, no questions asked. “Sure,” he nods. “Can I look now?”

You hesitate for a reason you can’t name. You feel more at ease with Eddie than anyone else in the whole wide world — and besides the fact that he’s seen you in much, much less — you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are now.

“Yeah…” you waver.

Eddie peeks at you over his shoulder for a moment before turning to face you fully. His pink lips purse and a low whistle sounds between them. “Damn,” he mumbles.

You fight back a smile and look away from him, wringing your anxious hands into a knot. “Hush…”

“You’re a total smokeshow, baby.”

“Eddie!”

“Don’t know why you wanna hide from me so bad…” he teases lowly, gravitating towards you without thinking. His hands are warm and wide as they smooth over your sides. His palms curl around your lower back and idle there, fingers lingering just above your ass. “All I wanna do is look at you, and you won’t even let me…” he jokes, mostly serious, but with a playful pout on his lips.

Your arms cross between your bodies. You glare up at him with pretty doe eyes that swim with all the love you have for him. You couldn’t pretend to be annoyed if you tried. “It’s ‘cause you’re so nice…”

His brows raise and disappear behind his fluffy bangs. “You’re shy because I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe,” Eddie laughs. He figures it’s on-brand enough for him, as the resident freak and all. But loving you has never felt unnatural or strange. It feels normal, like an instinct he’s always had, something he’s always been destined to do. So he just tilts his pretty head and smiles sweetly down at you. “Can’t help it, though.”

[rinhaler]

Yooo, your plug!sukuna x reader fic has got me so feral imgggg

And it got me thinking

imagine Yuuji and Sukuna double teaming you???

this is not canon buuuuuuuuuuuuuuut... it is hot so hope u like this hehe

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, incest (itadori bro's sharing u), double penetration (one hole), degradation, praise, cheating mention, bruising, hair pulling, oral fixation, daddy kink mention, spanking, squirting, creampie.

words: 1.1k

“B-Baby I- fuck. How could y-ou? Fuck him of all- all people?” Yuuji wonders, fingers gripping into your sides deeply. You’re bound to bruise. With the way he’s fucking you and squeezing into your supple flesh, you can practically feel the broken blood vessels forming purple blooms with every thrust into your squelching cunt.

It isn’t deliberate.

He just wants you to remember who you belong to.

“’m sorry!” you cry, tears pelting down onto the mattress below as he batters your interior again and again. “I didn’t mean t’ fuck him.. I didn’t—!”

“Aht aht. None of that,” Sukuna speaks, his fingers lacing through your hair and yanking enough to elicit a pained yelp from you. Your eyes shimmer as you they reflect the stare of red irises that have become so easy to manipulate you. “Wasn’t like that when you were crying for me to ruin you, was it? In fact…” he pulls out his phone and quickly finds the home made sex tape he’d made without asking.

“D-Don’t…” you sob, though you don’t have it in you to really fight him. He pushes his thumb by the seam of your lips in a bid to shut you up. And in your cock drunk, dazed state, you begin to suck like a baby with a pacifier. You clench around Yuuji as the video begins to play and you hear how loud you’re moaning for your boyfriend’s elder brother. The sex was phenomenal and you’ll never forget it for as long as you live. “Remember this? Hm?” he questions as he swipes to a certain point of the video.

“Want you to br-uuise my c-cervix, daddy.”

You scream, a trail of drool connecting his thumb to your tongue as you can’t help yourself when Yuuji spanks your ass. He’s seen it before, of course, but it doesn’t make it any easier. God you sound desperate, and in that moment, you were.

“Think it’s okay to f-fuck my brother? Huh? You were meant to say no.” he reminds you. He pulls your back into his chest and holds each of your wrists in his hands and keeps them near the small of your back. And he uses them, for leverage, as he fucks his length into your weeping slit. “Beggin’ for him to bruise your cervix like that? Had no idea what a little slut you were. You want him to fuck you again, don’t you?”

“N-No!” you lie. You’d love Sukuna to ravage you again. To make a complete mess of your insides and churn your brain into mush. You don’t want to think about anything but getting destroyed by him and Yuuji.

You feel so spoilt.

Sukuna doesn’t say a word as he gets closer to you. His length runs through your folds and nudges your clit as Yuuji keeps you pinned in place. Your face twinkles as the light reflects off of your tear stricken cheeks.

Yuuji slows down as Sukuna helps you angle your hips.

Though you aren’t sure how it’s only just dawning on you now what is happening.

Sukuna’s heavy mushroom tip begins to split your cunt further open. Each yelp and cry silenced by Yuuji as he smothers your mouth and whispers into your ear.

“Shhhh, baby, you can take him. You’ve done it before, yeah? Good girl, sh sh sh…” he consoles you. His hands grope your tits and his lips smother your neck and shoulder in soft kisses as he tries to distract you from the stinging stretch being inflicted upon you. “That’s it… good fucking girl… you can take us both, yeah? You wan’ us to fuck you stupid, yeah?”

You hum, unsure if you’re agreeing or not. Nothing is really making sense when all you can focus on is the fact you’re somehow accommodating two Itadori cocks at once.

“Look at you… elastic little cunt.” Sukuna snarls, laughing as he drinks in the sight of you being double stuffed like a porn star. He grabs his phone, taking a quick picture so that Yuuji can see the view he’s seeing.

“Woah… you’re so good, baby. Takin’ us so well.” he praises, kissing the skin behind your ear before slowly rolling his hips again.

“Don’t fucking praise her yet, haven’t even moved.” Sukuna starts, his hips begin to move too. Their thrusts are off beat and your heart begins to pound. You aren’t getting a break to get used to the feeling. The tempo of their mismatched thrusts has your vision whiting out. Your head lolls backwards onto Yuuji’s shoulder as they continue to ruin you, and you swear you can’t breathe.

You aren’t sure if you’re even there.

“M-Maybe we should slow down,” Yuuji tells Sukuna, his hips already slowing before he finishes his sentence.

“Fuck that.” Sukuna grabs your jaw and forces you to look at him. Drool spills from your lips and your eyes can’t focus. But he knows you’re listening and he knows you’re looking. You’re in there somewhere, enjoying this. “We already know you’re a whore so don’t act shy now.”

“’m g’na c-um.” you manage to squeak out even in your dazed state. “H-aah!” you struggle, but your pussy does all the talking for you. The sound of liquid spilling out of you is deafening. The suctioning and squelching sounds that follow are just as boisterous as they continue to pound into you. And just as you think your high is drawing to a close, their sloppy thrusts pick up the pace.

Another stream of liquid gushes from your cunt as they abuse your sweet spot in independently. Your head falls forward onto Sukuna’s chest, now. And he uncharacteristically cradles the crown of your head as you rest there.

Yuuji lets go of the singular wrist he’s still holding so he can focus on fucking into you. And he does, loudly. His moans are raucous as he empties his balls into your greedy hole.

Sukuna soon follows, hissing through his teeth as he spills his seed soon after his brother. None of you want to move, least of all you. You’re still clenching around them both while you rest against Sukuna’s chest. Yuuji begins to kiss at your shoulder, telling you how perfect and beautiful you are. And you shudder when his kisses trail down the column of your spine.

The elder brother is silent as he pants, stroking your hair repeatedly as he contemplates what just happened. But he hurriedly moves his hand away when he sees Yuuji look up at him.

“Knew she could take us,” he smirks. “Your girlfriend’s a perfect little whore.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[2tarbell]

can i just say that i love you?! you write trailerpark!rafe so well and i’ve waited so long to find a writer that created a work solely based on him! my obsession with trailerpark!rafe literally came from that short film drew did with rudy 😭😭

anyways i saw that you were looking for blurb ideas and honestly i can’t get trailerpark!rafe and reader doing cute domestic things together like going to the grocery store, washing the truck together, and maybe us seeing how rafe asked reader to move in with him and seeing his reaction to her adding her sweet touches to the place and making the trailer more homey for them.

thank u my love :C ur so sweet and i appreciate the message!!!! wrote something a little small just detailing rafe’s feelings about domestic stuff 💝 ENJOY!!!!

TRAILERPARK!RAFE who loves how reader has become his life.

he had watched her grow up beside him, neither family abundantly rich. but her chalk drawings of butterflies and hearts stretched along the path of her family home — the colors and softness always enraptured rafe, as well as the furrow of her brow when she yelled at him for killing some little bug. then she turned from a little girl with dirt on her cheeks into a mature woman with curves and determination she definitely didn’t have before.

he was sixteen when he fell in with love her, with her soul.

so he asked her to move in with him on their six month anniversary, all bashful and unsure in the way only she could make him. he was nervous about asking her to just come over, yet alone move in with him in such a shitty little trailer; void of decoration and love. he had always wanted to be more for her, for them. this precious woman that wormed her way into his heart since the moment they met at twelve.

it was cute, the way he was avoiding looking as he drove. she could see his ears turning a bit red, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. he’d been on edge the entire evening — shifty eyes and shaky hands so unlike the man she had come to know and love so dearly.

it all made sense when he spoke lowly, eyes still on the road ahead:

“so, uh... whaddaya— ahem… was thinkin’ ‘bout you maybe — uh — movin’ in?”

“you— you want me to?”

rafe couldn’t imagine anything better. so he nodded. and so did she.

the drive continued with her head on his shoulder, both biting back cheesy smiles at the next step they’d decided to take. rafe brought her hand to lips, pressing a long kiss to her knuckles — his fears of being not enough were washed away as his place eventually became their place.

there she was that very weekend, all tender and sweet and telling him where to put her stuff amongst his. he sees her in the furniture they picked, the flowers on the kitchen table, the pictures of them on the walls, in the very foundation of the trailer.

(then of course they fucked on every surface available, ‘christening’ the space.)

her hands soothing and gentle on his arms when he comes home to her. rafe never was good at being gentle like she is — he thinks loveliness lives in her bones as she kisses his cheek and mumbles something about dinner that she made him.

but it was the first night after they moved in together, he saw her in the bathroom preparing for bed and felt all air leave him. he can’t imagine a life without her in it. doesn’t want to even entertain the idea. the thought of a place without her burns in his mind — searing and almost painful. he can’t believe there was a time when she wasn’t his.

[sugarypinecones]

a panic challenge is busted and having to avoid the cops with dodge… sneaking you into his bedroom while his mom and sister sleep… giving you a rodeo t-shirt to sleep in… maybe making the first move straight away… or maybe going to bed and then waking up a few hours later tangled together in his bed…

we were jet-set, bonnie and clyde — dodge mason x reader

warnings: SMUT(?) he never actually gets close enough but he gets.. pretty close, like cum in your pants close oops but i can do a pt2 i just kinda got confused and unsure how to really.. like do things idk and i kinda hate it but it took so much time and writing i feel bad if i scrapt it, mentions of reader living in texas obviously, reader has no real desire to win panic, whiny desperate dodge, idrk how to tag its late im tired, dayna interrupts without knowing

a/n: oh i love this actually. like actually love this. like im foaming at the mouth thinking about this actually. title from getaway car by taylor swift also, love u all and ty for the request!! 💐💐 also sucks esp the ending but like idk im down to rewrite the ending if not continue the tangled thing! just lmk if you actually wanted it and dont be afraid to leave other requests.

Living in Carp, Texas meant that there weren’t many fun things to do. You can only drive around an empty parking lot for so long before getting bored. So when the opportunity of playing Panic rises, you rise with it.

And surprisingly, you didn’t immediately get eliminated. In fact — you’ve somehow made it this far, round two, which.. you’re sure you’re going to fall to your death or just entirely not do it. And you were fine with that, truly. You had your fun.

Now it was time to focus on something a little bit more real – your chances of winning the pot were low, especially because of all that stuff last year, and because of Dodge Mason.

If you didn’t know what determination was before that boy, you definitely did now. It was hard not to see him and not see determination, especially after the first challenge. He didn’t have fear in his eyes when he did it, unlike any of the other contestants. He had something else.

You shift on the hood of the beat-up car, sighing as you look over your shoulder for any sign of your friends. It was hard to tell through the sea of people — some juniors who were eager to see the game, some graduates who refused to play, such and such.

Dodge’s eyes roamed over to you, taking in the way you fiddled with the bracelets on your wrists and the tight, nervous expression on your face. He knew what you were thinking — he could see it in your eyes. I don’t belong here.

He watched you look around for your friends and found himself wondering why you were alone. Why weren’t you with them?

He seems to recognize you from the first challenge, and when you meet his gaze, he raises a hand. A small smile follows, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling in return.

Something sparked in Dodge’s chest as your lips curled into a small smile — he hadn’t expected a smile in return. Nor had he expected your eyes to soften at the sight of him, or your cheeks to flush a pretty shade of pink.

Maybe he had more of a chance with you than he thought.

The sight of you smiling in return gives him just enough confidence to walk over, stopping in-front of you. It was slightly unnerving, but it felt nice. Exhilarating, even.

He smirked to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to you — and just like that, his bravado returned.

“So,” he started, turning his head to the side to look down at you as he leaned against the car. “Here to root for me?”

Your gaze tilts to him, and you almost laughed. “No, I’m here to win.”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your response, a scoff and chuckle of disbelief slipping between his lips. He turned around, leaning his hip against the hood of the car, the smirk never wavering from his face.

“Oh, really?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “You honestly think you stand a chance against me?”

He wasn’t sure where all this confidence was coming from - because if it were anyone else, he would’ve just been nodding along with simple responses by now.

You grin. “I know so.”

He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, although, you really aren’t. You planned to chicken out the second you got called on that death-trap of a beam, no way in hell are you risking your life just to possibly lose in the end.

“Yeah,” he begun, but you shook your head; letting laughs fall from your lips. “No, not really.” You grin up at him, and he acts surprised; but he kind of had a feeling from the start you wouldn’t actually go through with any of this.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re backing out just like that?”

Your eyes catch on the flex of his muscles as his arms fold over his chest, before flickering back up to his face with a shrug. “I guess—“

You’re cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, closing your eyes as you let out a frustrated exhale. Playing panic was dangerous — watching it, even.

Dodge’s expression quickly turned serious as the sound of sirens filled the air. He immediately turned his head towards the noise, his muscles tense and eyes narrowing.

He quickly looked back over at you, silently cursing how distracted he had become from your presence. He should have been on guard — his focus needed to be on the task at hand, not on some cute girl.

“Cops,” he said lowly, looking back at the police cars approaching.

“Obviously,” you retort, sliding of the hood as you glance over your shoulder. There wasn’t really much places to scatter to, but –

Your train of thought is cut off by his hand on your wrist, pulling you along towards a patch of woods.

Dodge moved fast, tugging on your wrist and pulling you away from the car. He quickly led you towards a patch of woods nearby, trying to put as much distance between you and the cops before they got out of their cars.

He kept his grip on your hand as you ran, his fingers wrapped firmly around your wrist. They were rough — calloused from working on the farm and years of horseback riding.

As they made it into the safety of the trees, Dodge pulled you behind a large oak, pinning you against the trunk.

He quickly retracted, internally cursing himself for doing such. “Sorry, instinct,” he grumbles, although not angry towards you, god, not you.

“You lead a lot of girls away from cops?” You quip, fighting the urge to laugh to yourself.

Dodge let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, his heart thudding loudly in his chest.

He’d somehow managed to pull you almost 500 yards within that span of three minutes.

“Yeah, all the time,” he replied sarcastically, his smirk returning as he leaned his shoulder against the tree next to you. “You’re the twenty-third one I’ve led this month alone.”

You roll your eyes, “How charming.”

Dodge chuckled at your eye roll, leaning closer to you and looking down at you. His smirk widened as he pushed himself off of the tree, turning to face you fully.

“Yeah, I’m a real charmer,” he joked, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He paused then, noticing how close he was to you.

He cleared his throat before speaking again, pulling away, partially in fear of scaring you, partially in fear he couldn’t stop himself from asking to kiss you. “So, uh… you got a ride home or something?”

Fuck. No you did not. You hadn’t actually accounted that part down — you came with your friend, who is currently nowhere to be found, if not currently in the back of a cop car.

“No.” You huffed, narrowing your gaze as you looked at him, “I was gonna crash at Natalie’s,” You said, trying to explain your situation, which wasn’t hard to understand to begin with. Came with a friend, planned to leave with a friend, currently 500 yards away from said friend’s car, can’t exactly account to go home, as you told her you were going to bed three hours ago.

Dodge’s eyebrows furrowed at your answer — not out of annoyance, but concern. He knew the cops would be searching everywhere, and you didn’t have a ride home.

He thought for a moment, weighing his options. He couldn’t leave you out here alone until the police left. It was too dangerous.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair again before speaking. “Alright,” he said, looking down at you. “You’re comin’ home with me, then.”

Your eyes widen, and you seem to swallow as you tilt your head forwards, perplexed. “What?”

Dodge raised an eyebrow at your reaction, his expression shifting to confusion. He was surprised that you seemed so shocked by his offer.

Although, he got it. You didn’t know him well — not outside of school at least. You had seem him a few times, sat by him in a few classes. Thought he was cute, too, but never would’ve admitted that.

“You need a place to stay for the night,” he explained, his eyes locked on yours. “And you sure as hell can’t stay here.”

He paused, eyeing you up and down before continuing. “So you’ll stay at my house. It’s not a big deal.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but quickly snapped it shut, knowing he was right. Spending the night in the woods with the cops searching was a recipe for disaster.

Going home would be even worse.

And yet… spending the night at his house still stirred something within you — anxiety, excitement, curiosity — you couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” You nod, eyes darting around. “Yeah.” You exhale, it was for the better. You weren’t gonna sleep on the side of the road, and you knew Dodge.. to an extent, enough to know he’s not gonna pull an axe on you in your sleep.

Dodge’s face morphed into a sly grin as you agreed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew he was probably going to regret this later — he’d never brought a girl to his house before, let alone a girl his mother didn’t approve of.

“Atta girl,” he said, lightly patting your shoulder before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go.”

Dodge stepped away from the protective cover of the trees, gesturing for you to follow him. The coast was clear for now, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

As you fell in step with him, he leaned down to your ear. “Just so you know,” he began in a low voice. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming over. So.. don’t talk too loud when we get to the house, alright?”

You cock your head to the side, a slight laugh escaping under your breath. “Doesn’t know or isn’t okay?”

Dodge chuckled, shaking his head as he continued walking. “Both,” he answered, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

“She wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to have some girl she’s never met before spend the night out of nowhere.”

You nod, wondering why he’d offer in the first place then. He could’ve left you to get in trouble with your mom, left you to get eliminated, anything else.

“Is that your car?” You tilt your head forwards, breaking the silence that fell over the two teens, eyeing a white car.

Dodge followed your gaze, looking at the car you were eyeing. He nodded, a proud smile forming on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of boasting in his voice. “That’s her.”

You find it slightly funny that he’s gendered his car.

He quickly started towards the car, reaching it within a few long strides. He pulled the passenger side door open, motioning for you to get in. “C’mon.”

You almost hesitate — but, it’s not like you have another choice — or enough self control.

You hesitated for a moment, looking at the open door before climbing inside. You settled into the leather seat, shutting the door behind you, your stomach twisting with nervousness.

Dodge walked around to the driver’s side and got in, settling into the seat and buckling his seatbelt. He twisted the key in the ignition, the engine of the car coming to life with a low, rumbling purr.

He pulled out of the field and onto the road, navigating the deserted streets skillfully. You sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

Dodge glanced over at you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how tense and quiet you seemed. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s just..” You trailed off, unsure of how to actually describe the feeling.

It wasn’t scary, but it was. You were almost excited, but you didn’t know him well. Any knowledgeable person would be wary, but god, was Dodge Mason cute.

“I don’t know.”

Dodge chuckled, a sympathetic scoff falling from his lips at your failed attempt at putting your feelings into words.

He could tell you were conflicted about all of this — going home with a guy you barely knew, spending the night in a home you’ve never been to before… he didn’t blame you.

He sighed, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t how you planned to spend your night, huh?”

You scoff. “Who doesn’t plan to go home with a boy they barely know after cops raid them?”

He shook his head with a grin and looked over at you again, his eyes scanning over your features. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he couldn’t help the fluttery feeling in his chest as he looked at you.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery outside the car window. The night was still and quiet, only the hum of the engine breaking the silence.

“Dodge?” You spoke up suddenly, your voice soft.

Dodge’s attention immediately went to you, his eyes flickering over to glance at you. “Yeah?” He responded, his tone just as quiet as yours.

You shifted in your seat, turning to face him. “Can I ask you something?” you inquired, your expression slightly serious.

Dodge raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued by the sudden shift in your demeanor. “Shoot,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.

You paused for a moment, collecting your thoughts before speaking. “Why did you offer to let me stay the night?”

The question had been weighing on your mind since the moment he suggested it. You knew he wasn’t exactly the most responsible or trustworthy person, yet he’d gone out of his way to offer you refuge at his home.

Dodge’s grip tightened around the steering wheel as you asked the question. He expected it, knowing it was bound to come up eventually, but he wasn’t exactly prepared to answer it fully.

The truth was simple — he found you attractive, intriguing, and he was drawn to you in a way he couldn’t explain. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud, not yet.

Instead, he shrugged nonchalantally. “Seemed like you needed a place to stay,” he responded, keeping his tone casual.

Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing the hint of evasion in his answer. You knew there was more to it than that, but you also knew it wasn’t your place to push him for the truth — especially given your options in the current moment.

You let out a sigh, leaning back in your seat and looking out the window again. The rest of the ride passed in silence, only broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional rumble of the road beneath the tires.

After a few minutes, Dodge finally pulled into a long gravel driveway, leading up to a house. The house was modest, but well-kept. Even in the dim light, you could make out the meticulously maintained garden and the freshly painted exterior.

He shifted the car into park and killed the engine, turning to look at you. “We’re here.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and looked out the windshield, taking in the sight of the house. It was cozy, but not overly extravagant. It looked lived in — a home owned by a family who actually spent time here.

You let out a shaky breath, nerves starting to bubble up inside you once more. This was really happening. You were really going in there.

It wasn’t like regular nerves you’d had before. Not like panic, more like when you’re hanging out with a friend you’ve met for the first time — although, you technically know Dodge.

Dodge could sense the anxiety radiating from you, your nervousness evident in the way you fidgeted in your seat. He let out a low sigh, his eyes flickering over your features for a moment before speaking.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he reassured you, his voice soft. “My mom and sister are probably already asleep, so just stay quiet.”

You nodded, smiling. “Well, let’s go then. I’m tired.”

Dodge returned your smile with a nod of his own, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention to unbuckling his seatbelt.

He pushed the driver’s side door open, the soft creak of the metal mixing with the sound of the crickets chirping in the night air. He got out of the car and shut the door, rounding the hood and opening your door for you.

You stepped out of the car, your shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. You followed Dodge as he led the way to the front door, your eyes darting around nervously, taking in the surroundings.

He paused in front of the door and fumbled through his pockets, searching for his keys. After a moment, he fished them out and unlocked the door, pushing it open quietly.

He wasn’t exactly worried about making noise - his mom usually didn’t pay mind to him coming late. She figured he’d be home way later in any other circumstances, anyways.

As Dodge opened the door, a warm, inviting light spilled out from inside the house. You followed him inside, stepping into the entranceway and closing the door softly behind you.

The interior of the house was cozy and homey, with warm wood accents and comfortable furnishings. There was a sense of order and cleanliness, but it didn’t feel overly stiff or overly lived-in.

Dodge gestured for you to keep your shoes on, before nodding towards a hallway. “My room’s down there,” he whispered, indicating the direction of a long hallway to the left of the entryway.

You followed his gaze, looking down the hallway. You could see several doors lining the sides of the hallway, presumably leading to different rooms — bathrooms, bedrooms, and the like.

You looked back at Dodge, your heart rate increasing as you realized the implication of his words. His room. Where he sleeps. Where you’ll be sleeping, in close proximity to him.

Dodge noticed the look on your face, noticing the way your eyes widened slightly, betraying your thoughts. He chuckled softly, trying to ease the tension.

“Relax,” he whispered, his tone playful. “You’ll be fine. My room’s big enough for the both of us.”

You roll your eyes, “OK, cowboy.” You step into the open door, taking in the dimly-lit room. It wasn’t much. Just trophies, a wardrobe and a bed and small clutter around the room.

You liked it. You could get used to it.

Dodge chuckled at your nickname, following you into the room and shutting the door behind him. The atmosphere grew more intimate as you both entered the enclosed space, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the scent of his laundry detergent.

He leaned against the wall, watching you look around with a slight smirk on his lips. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You don’t take any convincing, and immediately flop down onto the bed, exhaling at the feel of the differing comfort in comparison to his car and old truck.

Dodge let out another chuckle as you flopped onto the bed, his eyes watching you sprawled out on his sheets. the sight amused him - you looked like a starfish on the soft material of the mattress.

He pushed away from the wall and walked across the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Comfy?” He teased, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” you hummed, a soft grin adorning your face. “although,” you sit up, glancing to him, “wish I would’ve known i’d be having a sleepover. All my stuff is in Nat’s car.”

Dodge chuckled, his eyes scanning over you as you sat up next to him. “Well, I didn’t exactly plan for this either,” he retorted, a smirk still playing on his lips.

He thought for a moment, his gaze flicking towards the door and then back to you. “You can borrow something to sleep in, if you want.”

You nod vicariously, laughing. “I am not sleeping in this.”

Dodge chuckled, leaning back on his arms as he looked you up and down. He took in your outfit, noting how out of place it seemed in this setting.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly sleepwear,” he agreed, amusement in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over your body before he spoke again. “I got some old T-shirts you can borrow.”

He stood up, walking over to the closet, before tossing a shirt your way. It was larger, but you could tell that it was his. It smelt faintly like him, and you can make the outlines out of a cracked pattern from an old rodeo.

You smiled up at him, appreciatively. “Thanks,” you said, placing the clothes down beside you. “Do you mind if I change here?”

Being caught by his sister or mom wasn’t exactly a want for you right now.

“Nope, go ahead,” he replied, leaning against the wall lazily. “I won’t look.”

You nodded, watching as his gaze shifts towards the closet, adjusting clothes.

You waste no time peeling the clothes off of you, pulling the T-shirt over your body as you exhale, and then pulling the old sweatpants over your body, tying them as tight as you could around your waist.

“Okay.” You said.

He quickly shook the thoughts away, clearing his throat. “You decent?” He asked, looking over at you.

“Yep.” You nod, shifting back on the bed some, “Oh,” you glance away, “you can change too, sorry.”

Dodge chuckled at your realization, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to you again.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, reaching down and grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping in this, anyways.”

He pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it onto the floor, revealing his bare chest.

He knows how badly this could’ve ended - but, he was already here, and honestly the lack of sleep was beginning to make him more bold than he’d like to admit.

Your eyebrows raise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you met his gaze.

Dodge noticed your reaction, his smirk widening as he caught your laugh. He chuckled in response, his eyes locked on yours.

“What?” He asked, his voice playful. “Never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You shake your head, blinking back shock. “I have,” you note, trying to pretend as if your eyes weren’t raking over his body.

“Just.. wasn’t expecting this.”

Her close proximity was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume filling his senses and clouding his thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his face inches away from yours. His gaze flicked from your eyes to lips, the desire to kiss you overwhelming any logical thoughts in his mind.

"Tell me," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tell me you want this. Tell me to, and I will. But I need to hear you say it."

He leaned in further, his lips hovering just above yours, the gap between them practically non-existent.

"I want this," you admitted, barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the minimal gap between them, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

His hands moved from your cheek to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

But it wasn't just about physical need, you could sense. There was a sense of desperation in the way he held you, as if this moment was more than just a passing lust.

As the kiss deepened, Dodge backed you up against the bed, gently maneuvering you until you were trapped between him and the mattress.

His hands moved under your shirt, tracing a path up your bare skin, causing you to shiver against him.

Dodge trailed hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of burning desire in their wake. His hands roamed over your body, worshiping every inch of your bare skin.

His mouth returned to yours, claiming your lips in a passionate embrace. He rolled his hips against you, eliciting a gasp from your lips as the friction between your bodies intensified.

With a smooth movement, he pulled away from your lips and moved to your jawline, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, his voice low and ragged with desire, “how long I've wanted to do this.”

His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, gripping the flesh hard as he shifted between your legs.

Dodge took a few moments to admire the sight of you beneath him, your face flushed and lips swollen from his kisses. He couldn't get enough of you, the way you tasted, the way you felt beneath him.

He leaned down to capture your lips again, his hands roaming further up your thighs. His fingers toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants, the thought of going further crossing his mind.

Dodge broke the kiss, panting slightly as he looked down at you again.

“God,” he rasped, his gaze roaming over your flushed face and disheveled hair. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

He leaned back down, his breath hot against your ear. “I want you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “All of you. Right here. Right now.”

His lips moved to your neck, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone as his hands continued to wander over your body. His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the sweatpants, tracing patterns against your skin.

“Okay,” You nod, “okay,” you repeat softer.

Dodge's breath hitches at your agreement, his fingers stilling. He pulls away just enough to look at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and relief.

"Yeah?" He asks, his voice slightly shaky. "You're sure?"

You nod, “I’m sure.”

Dodge's response is immediate, his mouth crashing back down onto yours in a passionate kiss. His hands move faster now, pushing down the sweatpants and discarding them onto the floor.

He positions himself back between your legs, his body pressing against yours as he kisses you hungrily. One of his thighs slides against you, causing you to gasp into the kiss.

Dodge takes advantage of your moment of surprise, his tongue slipping past your lips to explore your mouth. His hands roam over your bare thighs and hips, gripping the flesh tightly as he continues to move against you.

You can feel his hardness pressing against you, the evidence of his desire evident and urgent. He pulls away from the kiss, panting slightly, and looks down at you.

“God,” he mutters, his voice ragged and hoarse. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

He shifts his hips, pressing against you more purposefully. The friction between your bodies causes him to let out a guttural groan, his head dropping down to bury in your neck.

He peppers your neck with kisses, his lips and teeth leaving behind a trail of marks and bites. He continues to rock his hips against you, the friction growing more and more intense as the seconds pass.

His hands roam over your body, mapping out every dip and curve with fervor. He's almost feverish in his touch, his need for you overwhelming his rational thoughts.

"I need," he gasps, his breath warm against your skin, "I need..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, instead moving to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he increases the pace of his movements. The friction between your bodies is enough to send waves of pleasure through you, the feeling consuming your senses.

Dodge breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to see your face. He takes in the sight of you, hair mussed, eyes glazed over with desire, cheeks flushed with color.

He looks wrecked himself, his breathing labored and his body taut with tension. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught, as if he's holding back from completely letting go.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He's on the edge, you can tell. But he's still holding back, still trying to control himself.

"I want... I need..." he pants, his words coming out in shuddering gasps. "I need to hear you say it. Tell me I can... tell me you want..."

He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. He's desperate, his need for you almost palpable in the air.

He know’s he’s gotten your permission beforehand, but he needs to be sure.

“Please.” You whine.

Dodge exhales a ragged breath at your response, the sound almost a moan. He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his body trembling with need.

"Thank god," he gasps, his voice cracking slightly. "Thank god."

He captures your lips in a desperate kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth hungrily. His hands move from your hips to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart as he positions himself against you.

The friction between your bodies is maddening now, the pleasure building with every movement. Dodge bucks his hips against you, causing you both to moan into the kiss.

He breaks the kiss again, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You feel so good," he whispers against your skin, his words sending shivers through your body. "So perfect, so goddamn perfect."

His hands roam over your body, touching and caressing every inch of exposed flesh. He's everywhere at once, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through your body like wildfire.

You almost whine out at the lack of contact to your body as his hands travel to his belt.

Dodge's hands fumble with his jeans, the frantic motion a clear indicator of how desperately he needs you. He pushes the material down, kicking them off the edge of the bed with a hasty movement.

He's bare now, his body exposed and vulnerable in a way he rarely lets himself be. He positions himself back between your legs, bracing himself above you.

He pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of you beneath him. You're flushed and trembling, your eyes glassy with desire. You can see his gaze flickering over your body, taking in every detail, every curve.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place as he rolls his own into you.

The friction between your bodies is enough to drive you both insane. Dodge lets out a guttural moan into the kiss, his grip on your hips tight enough to bruise.

He swears he could come at the sight of this alone, and he honestly might.

A rapid knock to his door stirs him out of his frenzy.

Dodge grunts in surprise, pulled out of his passionate haze by the interruption. He looks up at you, his eyes still dark with desire but confused by the sudden intrusion.

"What?" he asks, his voice slightly hoarse as he called out to his sister in the hallway. "What's wrong?"

“I can’t reach the cereal above the fridge.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing as he pulled your — his, sweatpants over his body.

He raises a finger, as if telling you to wait, and you nod, but you were asleep by the time he finished helping Dana.

[hannieehaee]

can you pls do a ot13 reaction where they both have a crush on each other (y/n and member) so there’s kind of a tension between them ? ^^ thank you so much!!

having a mutual crush on each other

content: implied friendship, mutual crush, some embarrassment lol, etc.

wc: 796

a/n: hope u like it<33 love writing them with a crush its so cute</3

masterlist

seungcheol -

very bashful any time you're alone together. finds it impossible to look into your eyes without shyness overtaking him after finding out his crush was mutual. sometimes he'd have the courage to flirt with you, but he'd usually start blushing when you flirted back. the image of the two of you interacting would be sickening for the members to see as the two of you avoided eye contact and made pathetic attempts at hitting on the other.

jeonghan -

fully aware of your crush and just having fun with the whole 'will they wont they' of it all. will blatantly flirt with you at times or act overly soft at other times in order to make you as aware of his crush as possible. however! he would wait for you to take the first step, simply enjoying being chased after rather than doing the chasing itself.

joshua -

constant suggestive stares and comments that leave you blushy and breathless, making you shy away from even holding eye contact. he gets such a thrill from knowing you like him just as much as he does you, so he always creates this tension that has you looking forward to the next time you interact.

jun -

a little on the shyer side but still makes his crush clear with subtle affections. there's always this very sweet and subtle back and forth between you. not super outwardly spoken but still clear about his intentions through his loaded stares and shy touches of your hand. everyone around is aware and finds your interactions adorable.

soonyoung -

too shy to ever make a move so the only tension between you is him constantly running away from you whenever any sort of allusion towards your or his crush is brought up. cannot physically be in the room any time the two of you are alone because he has no control over his blush or the emptiness of his brain any time he sees himself having to interact with you one on one.

wonwoo -

contrary to popular belief, i think he'd be soooo flirty and engage in back and forth with you any time you interacted. upon realizing his crush was mutual, he'd always be seeking you out, flirting, bantering, and just always making conversation with you to keep himself as a constant presence in your life. sometimes intimate one on one's would even come up between you.

jihoon -

oh god so shy and kept to himself. even though he knows you like him back, he's still unsure on how to proceed, creating an awkward tension whenever he had to take the reigns in the conversation. would depend on you (or maybe the other members) to keep things going or else he'd malfunction.

seokmin -

he'd act just like a friend but in a very charming way, always opening doors for you, holding your hand, giving you friendly affection but with an edge of romance hidden in there. would be so easy for you two to fall into a 'when will they' situation bc everyone knows you're into each other and feeding into it way more than friends would.

mingyu -

constant tension between the two of you lmao. he'd be flirting with you nonstop, feeding into any reaction he got out of you. if you were shy and bashful, he'd flirt even more to get you blushing even more. if you flirted back, he'd match your energy and keep hitting on you until the two of you landed in an even more

minghao -

confident and a little cocky about his crush, always giving you these suggestive looks and soft touches to ensure you're very aware of his feelings for you. lives off your reactions and reciprocations to his affections, creating an intense aura whenever you two were near each other.

seungkwan -

despite his outgoing personality, he's still a little on the shyer side when it comes to expressing his interest in you. will sometimes get a surge of extra confidence and flirt with you, catching you off guard and feeding into a cocky side of himself that only ever came out when he noticed his effect on you.

vernon -

very chill and subtle about his interest but still making it quite obvious. knowing you like him back, he'd occasionally make very direct mentions of his feelings for you, loving how blunt he could be about it as you occasionally responded in a similar manner. would probably wait a while to ask you out officially, enjoying the subtle back and forth.

chan -

even though im a sub!chan and shy!chan enthusiast, i think he'd hit it off with someone he liked very easily. would be easygoing and smooth in showing his interest. would shamelessly flirt with you and always have the perfect response when you'd flirt back.

[luveline]

Ok what about a lil fic of Remus being snappy with his gf leading up to the full moon? Just some angst and then fluffy ending with them reconciling

thank u for ur request! —remus says something he shouldn't before the full moon, and later campaigns for your forgiveness with affection and a confession. fem!reader, 1.2k

Remus lays on the couch with his forearm pressed to his eyes. It's the day before the full moon, and he feels the hours approaching like a death sentence every time. You hover in the doorway, watching, unsure of how to help. He gets the same every month (or rather, every cycle). 

Irritable. So anxious he can't breathe properly, let alone enter conversation. 

You hate seeing him like this. Your Remus, who spends every moment you're together trying to make sure you're as happy as you can be. 

Cautious, you round the sofa to crouch by his face. You hold out your hand, trailing a gentle fingertip down the length of his arm, tripping over pinched skin ridged by scars. He's beautiful no matter what, but he gets insecure about how he looks every full moon. You know he thinks he's a monster. You've no way to prove it to him beyond this. 

"Hey, handsome," you say softly. "I know you're not hungry, but I made dinner anyway if you feel up to it. And I know," —you drop your voice to a near whisper— "I know you're not in the mood, but I'm here. I can sit here and stroke your hair in silence all night if that's what you want, my love. I'll do whatever you want." 

"Then leave me alone," he says. 

Half snap, half firm defeat. You wince at the ire in his voice. It won't ever be nice to have someone you love speak to you like you're getting on their nerves, but you know what it is he's facing. You know this is hard for him to cope with. You can forgive him for everything if he makes it through this in one piece. 

"Okay. I'm sorry. I love you, Remus." 

He turns his head toward the sofa cushions. 

You leave the room with a heavy heart. In the kitchen, you try to eat, but every mouthful makes you feel sick, your eyes welling with tears as you chew. You're hurt, he's hurting, and this really, really sucks. 

The smell of dinner starts to amplify the nausea. You grab your plate and carry it to the back door, scraping your leftovers straight into the rubbish. You wash your plate and leave it to drip dry on the draining board, your eyes burning. You sniff, wiping your nose in your sleeve. 

You're hoping desperately that Remus will come around before bed, but he stays where he is. Thinking he's finally found sleep and wanting to leave him to that blissful reprieve, you creep through the living room and down the hallway into the bedroom. Tears fall as you change into your pyjamas. You're so tired that you barely have time to cry yourself to sleep. 

You're not sure how much longer it is when you wake. A familiar hand cups your cheek. 

From the warmth of your skin, he's had his hand there for a while. 

"I'm so sorry," Remus says. 

You don't know how he knows you're awake. He must have been watching you long enough to spot the difference. Honestly, you're not sure you want to see him yet, because you love him so much, and it breaks your heart to be at the end of his disdain even when you know the cause. 

You struggle to see him in the dark. 

"I should never have spoken to you like that." 

Your eyes close of their own accord, exhausted and sore from crying. "You didn't mean it." 

"I wish you'd shout at me," he murmurs, sliding his hand over your ear. His thumb draws along the shell of your ear. 

"I'm too tired," you mumble. 

Remus' head shifts closer to yours. Sharing the same pillow, his hand falls to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around you, a firm bicep pressed to your front. 

You let yourself lean into it. His breath warms the space between your brows. 

"It's no excuse, but I… I can't think of anything else but the pain, sometimes. I get so angry about it, because I'm–" He stops short, swallowing audibly in the otherwise silent room. "I'm scared. But I would be a hundred times more terrified if I didn't have you, knowing you're there for me, unflinchingly, before and after it happens, it helps me get through it. It's not fair that you give me so much peace and I just… 

"I'm sorry, dove. I don't mean to take advantage of your… heart." He says heart like he's been winded. He hadn't sounded finished, but everything stops at that word. 

You force your eyes open. He's looking at you with an unspeakable amount of love, kind to keel you over if you were standing. His eyes are pitch black in the lack of light, irises melded with pupils, giving him an even sorrier gaze. You raise a sluggish hand to his where it rests behind your back and pull it back to your face. You miss his touch. 

"I love you," you say. 

"I know," he says, his jaw tensing in an attempt to stage off tears. "I love you, too." You watch them collect in the corners of his eyes, following one as it slides to rest in the dip of his nose bridge while he lies on his side like this. 

"So don't be sorry." 

"But I am sorry. I can't fathom why I think it's okay to treat you that way." 

"You don't think at all, Remus. I'm not being flippant, but you're busy worrying about the worst of it." You shake your head gently. His hand twitches against your cheek. "I don't blame you." 

"I know," he utters. 

You stare up at him as he sits enough to tower over you. His smile is sorry, in love and ashamed. You want to tell him how it doesn't matter, that it's okay, but you're thinking maybe you need him to say it first. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Remus, you only told me to leave you alone." 

"I need you to know that any other time, you're all that I want. You're everything. I couldn't ask for more than you. Please don't think I'm cruel," he pleads in a whisper. 

You lift your chin incrementally. "I'd never think that." 

His apology kiss is coddling. Like he's worried he'll hurt you, like he's holding back, he kisses you like you can't handle more than a chaste press of the lips. 

"I love you," he says into it. 

You lift your head to kiss him harder. You love him, and you won't break. You can be exactly as strong as he needs you to be, so long as love waits at the end of the night. 

"I love you." A huff of a laugh escapes him. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" Caution has his joke falling flat.

You nuzzle your cheek against his, knowing you'd forgiven him just as soon as he'd snapped. "If you let me stroke your hair. Did you eat your dinner?" 

"I'll eat it tomorrow," he says. A white lie, you both know, but he slides down further under the sheets so you can reach his head. 

You card your fingers through his hair until you've both fallen asleep. 

[heartiis]

the big apple ꩜ .ᐟ pt.2

pt.1 pt.3

pairing - ellie x reader

synopsis - you've just moved to nyc and ellie's your new neighbor. she hates you though and you don't know why :((

cw - mean ellie, eventual side gig dealer ellie, eventual weed, tattoo artist ellie, cigs, drinking, no smut this time but there will be eventually, swearing

a/n - second chapter, i hope you like it!! the pic is not how I want you to imagine reader bc I like to keep her pretty neutral in terms of what she looks like in order for u to fill that in, it's just a pic I found!

The four of you rode the subway towards the club. Dina and Jesse were quite talkative, and you managed to make conversation with them, but Ellie was dead quiet. You wondered if it was always like this or if it was because of you. From what little you’d seen of her interacting with her friends before you came into the mix, you guessed it was the latter.

You tried to pay it no mind, and for the most part it worked. Dina and Jesse were fun to talk to, and you felt excited for the night. You’d never been to the subway this late and it wasn’t uncomfortably packed like in the mornings. However, there were still plenty of people who judging by their outfits looked like they were going to the club as well.

You got to chatting about your back story. You told them you used to live in a small, conservative town which you were fond of in some ways, but that was ultimately not the place for you. They were impressed that you’d made the move on your own, saying that it must’ve taken guts to come from a town like that to New York all on your own, and at such a young age. You told them you hadn’t really thought of it that way. Leaving your hometown wasn’t an act of bravery, it was…survival. When you said that, it was the only time Ellie turned her head to look at you.

You talked about your job, and told them they should come visit you sometime for a drink on the house, earning you some excited chatter. You found out that Jesse was a freelance graphic designer and Dina worked at an independent bookstore to pay the bills but did theater on the side. You were fascinated hearing them talk about it. Jesse worked on his own terms, while Dina was passionate about what she did.

Then they started talking about Ellie’s job as a tattoo artist. They showed you pictures of work she’d done, all her own designs. You weren’t very knowledgeable about what constituted as a good tattoo but you were pretty sure she was really good at her job. The designs were gorgeous, and you could tell she had put a lot of passion into them as well as just technique. You looked at her as they talked. She was making a point not to look back at you.

Your attention was drawn to the skin showing on the parts of her t-shirt that were cut out. It was inked at the ribs, which you hadn’t noticed before. You wondered about what other designs were hidden under her clothes.

When you got off the subway, Jesse led you down two blocks to the place he’d talked about. There was already a line growing by the minute. Thankfully, it moved relatively fast, and soon you were at the door, showing the bouncer your fake id. When he waved you in you made a point to look back at Ellie, smile, and shrug. If she wanted to hate you so much, why not give her a good reason to?

Her expression was passive on the surface, but you could feel the hardness of her stare.

The club was, at first, a little daunting to you. You’d only been to bars with pool tables and jukebox machines. The lights, packed bodies and fake smoke were a lot on the senses, but you soon began to enjoy the chaos and your anxiety melted away. The four of you got drinks at the bar—beers for Ellie and Jesse, and a vodka cran for Dina. You followed her example, sighing when you looked at the price.

You stood there by the counter, sipping your drink, unsure of what to do now. Should you go straight to the dance floor? How did this work?

Dina slid in next to you, smirking. “Hey. Sorry about Ellie. She can be a real asshole.” She and Jesse were off to the side, not too far away, but out of earshot due to the noise.

“It’s fine. I’m glad you guys invited me. I guess I just wish I knew why she hates me so much.”

Dina tilted her head to the side. “Oh, I don’t think she hates you. She’s just kind of weird around new people. She’s been stressed about her job, and I guess she wanted to unwind today? Then Jesse invites you to come with us, which I obviously have no problem with—but now she has to deal with a new person. You know, judging by what she said about your id, she probably just thought you were uptight. And after what you said about being from a small conservative town and all, she probably thought you were conservative too. But I don’t think you’d move here, or be here”—she waved a hand around.—“if you were.” She smirked. “She’ll warm up to you though, I think.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” You laugh.

Dina’s brows shoot up. “What, is there something I don’t know about?”

“Uh, well, it’s nothing really. It’s just…”

“Uh huh…Go on.”

“Well, when the bouncer let me in with my fake id, I kind of looked back at Ellie and smiled. And uh. Shrugged.”

Dina turned to you, slapped her hand on the counter and laughed. “Oh my God! Fuck, that’s funny. I mean, it wouldn’t be a big deal with most people, but Ellie? Yeah, that definitely pissed her off. Totally deserved, though. I would’ve killed to see her face.”

You flashed a smile. “It was pretty damn great.”

“Damn, y/n! I didn’t know you were ballsy like that. But you know what? She respects ballsy girls. She just has to get over her pride first.”

“Oh, I imagine that’s going to be hard for her.”

Dina laughed. “Yup.” She took a sip of her drink, then looked off to the side and raised her brows. “Look who’s already getting down.”

You turned your face to see what she was talking about. Ellie was on the dance floor next to a pretty girl, gazing at her with a look you hadn’t seen on her face before. It wasn’t exactly of pure lust, but there was definitely something there. Her eyes were crawling all over the girl’s body. You felt a pang of jealousy, which pissed you off. You were supposed to be over your little crush already. You wanted to be.

“She hooks up with a lot of girls, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Leaves them all pent up for her, then ditches them. It’s pretty shitty, but I guess she never promised them anything in the first place.” Dina finished her drink in one big gulp and grimaced just the slightest bit. “These days she’s not really the dating type.”

You were almost done with your drink, and still a little bit buzzed off the wine. Curiosity was getting the best of you. It also helped that Dina was so nice, and definitely not sober as well. Two drunk people just made each other drunker. “Bad experience with an ex?” You asked.

“Oh yeah. That and she’s always so busy with work, I guess she just doesn’t see the point.”

You turned to the counter so Ellie and the girl were out of your sight then finished the vodka cran. “I guess being a tattoo artist must take up a lot of your time.”

“That and her side gig.” You looked at her, and she winked. “I’ll let her tell you about that.” She glanced at both of your empty glasses and pouted. “Wanna get a tequila shot then go dance?” Her pout turned into a wide grin.

You mirrored it. “Hell yeah.”

-

You’d lost track of how long you’d been dancing. Between the move and the new job, it’d been a while since you’d had alcohol, and your tolerance was not what it usually was. Which was perfect to you. You were just the right amount of drunk, enough to have fun and not care about whether or not you looked silly and not enough to the point where you felt out of control or sick.

The music was great to dance to, and the speakers were of course the best you’d ever heard. The notes seemed to almost reverberate inside you. As the music got more intense you raised your hands and jumped to the beat, then accidentally bumped hard into somebody.

“Shit—“ You said, but swallowed the sorry when you saw who it was.

An annoyed looking Ellie was standing there, right next to the girl from before. She gaped back at you when she noticed that Ellie had stopped moving. The tension was palpable.

“Hey, Elliee.” Dina danced closer. “Having fun?”

“I need a smoke, actually.” She started to move away without the girl.

“Ooh, same!” Without asking, Dina grabbed your hand and led you to the outdoor smoking area.

The smell of cigarette smoke hit you as soon as you stepped outside. You felt a little embarrassed to be there, but Dina had been the one to drag you out. And a drunk cig did sound amazing at that moment. Dina waved to Ellie, who was lying back against the wall lighting a cigarette.

“Hey. You know where Jesse is?” Dina said.

“I saw him talking to some girl at the bar on the way here. I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Cool.” Dina placed her hands behind her back and smiled sweetly. “Can we bum one off you?” Ellie pushed off the wall and took her pack of Marlboro reds from out of her pocket, letting Dina take one. “Remind me why you never buy your own?”

“Because,” she began. “I don’t wanna get hooked like you.” She looked back at you while she took Ellie’s lighter and began to light the cig. “Shit, I forgot to ask if you even smoke. I guess that living here you kind of just assume everyone does?”

Ellie scoffed.

“I do,” You said, ignoring her. “I usually bum cigs from my friends too. I’m more of a smoker when drinking.”

“Right! That’s the best way to do it.” Dina blew the puff of smoke upwards so it wouldn’t hit your face, then passed it to you. “So, y/n. Anyone in there caught your eye?”

You smiled sheepishly, taking a drag. “Uh, not yet. I wish.”

“Well, what are you into? Boys, girls, your type…you know.”

Ellie. You were into girls like Ellie. You bit your lip. She was peering at you, tip of her cigarette burning orange as she took a drag. If you started describing your type, saying you liked masc, tatted up girls with baggy clothes, how would that look?

“Um…” You started. “Girls.” Ellie’s brows raised just the slightest bit before she looked away. How’s that for conservative?

Dina leaned back into the wall. “A win for us! And what else?” If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was flirting with you. But it seemed to you that that was just her style, friendly and flirty at once.

“Um. I like…girls who aren’t that feminine.” You hoped that was less obvious than straight up saying masc.

Dina smiled without teeth, brows slightly raised. Fuck, she was onto you, wasn’t she? You hadn’t exactly been that discrete, poking around about Ellie’s love life. And what must she be thinking about you being into a girl that had only treated you like shit? But then again, Dina seemed like she wasn’t the judging type. In fact, she seemed quite open-minded when it came to that stuff…And like she enjoyed the drama. You had to admit that so did you. You wouldn’t be into girls like Ellie if you didn’t.

“Well then, y/n. Let’s go find you a girl.”

-

The girl Dina had pointed out to you had hair cropped close to her head, and wore black from head to toe. You did in fact find her attractive. Not as much as Ellie, you thought, before pushing that concept away. Ellie didn’t like you. She’d made that clear enough. Besides, you were drunk and wanted to have a good time.

It was that very same state of being drunk that gave you enough courage to come up to the girl and ask her if she wanted to dance. She said yes with a cute smile on her face, and the two of you made your way onto the dance floor. You were a bit shy at first, but she just kept grinning at you as if she was so into you that you eventually gained enough confidence to dance the way you wanted, moving your body without reservations.

At some point, you noticed Ellie staring.

She was at the bar with Dina and Jesse, who had appeared out of nowhere and was currently drinking a beer with her. You could see his mouth move as he talked to her, but she just sat there leaning against the counter, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You couldn’t parse what her expression meant. But you knew one thing, that she was watching what you were doing.

You stepped in closer to the girl, touching her shoulders, running your hands over her clavicle. The both of you started dancing slower. She put her hands on your waist. You got in close, so close she couldn’t tell where your eyes were really at. You moved your body lazily, deliberately, tilting your head this way and that as the girl moved her hands down your body to toy with the hem of your dress.

Ellie kept staring, not once deviating her gaze.

pt.3

-

a/n - heyy so... sorry about forgetting to warn you guys about the slow burn. i'm planning on getting the next chapter done and up tomorrow tho, and I promise it's going to be good ;)

also, do nyc clubs have outdoor smoking areas like they do where I live? idk. let's just pretend they for sure do...

[acewritesfics]

A Wedding After All  | Tommy Shelby 

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Pregnant!Reader 

Request: No.  

Warnings: Alludes to cheating [I do not condone cheating]. Pregnancy. Past childhood sweethearts. Brief mention of war. One f*ck.

Word Count: 2,103

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Is Tommy in his office, Polly?" Y/N asks as she approaches the woman who has always treated her like a daughter. Her cheeks are flushed after walking as fast as she could to the Shelby Company's headquarters. She's come straight from the doctor's office. 

Polly cast a worried glance towards the younger woman. "You alright, Love?" 

"I need to talk to Tommy," she says, her gaze darting towards Tommy's office. "It's important that I speak with him." 

"He ought to return at any moment. I'm sure you can tell me whatever you need to tell him," Polly remarks as she sees Y/N beginning to pace back and forth in front of her. 

"Sorry, but I can't. I won't say anything until I've spoken with Tommy." Y/N is unable to calm herself as nauseous feeling settles in her stomach. 

The Shelby family's Matriarch felt unsure how to handle the current situation she finds herself in. If something bothered her, Y/N would always tell her. She never went to Tommy first with anything since their relationship ended years ago.  

Polly knew the woman Y/N's father married a month after his wife died, and it came as no surprise how viciously she treated the teenage girl, from spreading rumours to physically beating her, while her good for nothing father did nothing to stop his new wife. 

Polly immediately scoured the entire town of Small Heath for Y/N and welcomed her into her home once she learned that she was kicked to the streets when she was fifteen. 

It wasn't long before Polly introduced her to her brother's family. When she met the Shelby siblings, they forged an immediate bond. Ada, the only girl, took to her the most, relieved to have another girl to talk to. The two women are still as thick as thieves to this day. They have a sisterly relationship that not even Tommy could disrupt. 

From the moment they met there was an obvious immediate attraction between Y/N and Tommy.  It didn't take long for their friendship to grow into a romantic love. Their romance was a whirlwind of passion, excitement and love. The two of them only had eyes for each other. Everyone knew she was Tommy's girl, and no one dared to touch her. Even though Tommy had little in common with his father, the Shelby name came with a not-so-great reputation.  

Tommy and Y/N weren't hesitant to call each other out on their foolishness, their confrontations occasionally attracting unwelcome attention. But they never went to bed angry with each other, which sometimes resulted in restless nights spent talking and making up. He had been her first love. 

However, their romance eventually ended when Y/N travelled to London shortly after turning 21 to pursue becoming a nurse. Tommy wanted to promise that he'd wait for her to return to Birmingham because he knew she was the one who he was supposed to marry and spend the rest of his life with. She urged him not to make any promises to her, fearing that their parting would only cause more heartbreak. But Tommy never gave up on her, writing almost every day to persuade her that everything would work out between them. They both held hope that it would until the letters eventually became less frequent as they both became busy with their lives.   

The war broke out two years into her training, and she and many other nurses were deployed to France to care for their countries' wounded. There, she was reunited with her former love. In the midst of tending to the soldier's wounds, their love for one another was rekindled. 

But as the days passed, Tommy's once beautiful vibrant blue eyes turned dull, emotionless, and void as they witnessed people die in the most horrific ways. When the war was over and they were sent home, they went their separate ways once more. 

It wasn't until six months ago that Y/N returned Birmingham. She'd been assigned to work in Small Heath's hospital. She preferred working at this hospital to the one she previously worked at in London. It moved at a slightly slower pace which she enjoyed.  

She reconnected with Polly and the brothers once she had settled back in and called Ada at least three times a week to keep her updated now that she was living in London with her son. Despite Ada's displeasure at Y/N wanting to return to Birmingham, the younger of the two women supported her decision knowing that their hometown was where Y/N belonged. 

Y/N had missed Polly and the brothers and was overjoyed to have them back in her life, as well as to be back in theirs. 

She enjoyed being back in Small Heath, even if her heart was crushed by her own past decisions. She assumed she was over Tommy, that all they'd ever be is friends, and that all her old sentiments for him had vanished. Tommy was her first and only love, so learning that he was now engaged saddened her. Polly attempted to convince her that Tommy never stopped loving her and that this marriage was a waste of time and money once he realises, he's making a mistake.  

But all Y/N saw was the way Tommy's soon-to-be bride looked at him, the way her eyes lit up when he walked into the room, the way he makes her smile. It was the same way she would look at him. The only difference was he never looked at her the same way he looked at Y/N. He never looked at anyone the way he was before the war. Y/N didn't know if Tommy loved his fiancée, but he was marrying her and that was enough for Y/N to know that her and Tommy will never be more than friends again.  

Y/N didn't want to get in the way of their relationship, so she kept her distance from Tommy. Which had been working until one night nine weeks ago. 

Polly pulls out a cigarette, places it between her lips, and lights it while she continues to watch Y/N pacing the room. She takes in the younger woman's form, seeing the small curvature of her belly as her hands rest over her stomach as if protecting it. 

Then it dawns on her.  

Leaving her cigarette in the ashtray, she moves towards Y/N and stops her from pacing a hole into the floor. Y/N seems surprised as Polly reaches out and gropes her breasts, feeling them for a few seconds before letting go. 

"You're with child," she exclaims, not bothering to hide the smile on her face. She is not a fool. This baby can only belong to one man, and it would be the push the former lovers need to come back together. Tommy, after all, would never abandon the woman who is carrying his child, especially when it's the woman he's been hopelessly in love with since he was sixteen 

"Fuck me," Y/N murmurs more to herself since she should have known Polly would notice. Nothing can ever get past the Romani woman. "Please don't say anything until I've spoken with Tommy." 

"My lips are sealed," she assures as she places her hand to Y/N's belly.  "Is she Tommy's then?" 

"She?" Y/N raises an eyebrow in response. She wasn't going to bother responding to Polly question since she already knew the answer. 

"Did you forget who you are talking to?" Polly beams, eliciting a smile from Y/N, who appears to be more at ease. "She'll be beautiful, Y/N, and you'll love her more than you've ever loved anyone, even Thomas. There is no deeper love than that between a mother and her daughter." 

They both have a saddened expression on their faces as they recall who they've lost. Y/N lost her mother, and Polly lost her daughter, but they found what they were looking for in each other. Polly always believed that her daughter and Y/N's mother brought them together knowing that they needed one other. 

"You understand that she'll call you nan, right?"  Y/N says, making Polly smile this time. 

"Of course she is," Polly says, hugging her adopted daughter. She lets go of her, looking over her shoulder as someone walks into the office. 

Y/N becomes tense once more. She doesn't have to turn around to find out who it is since she can always feel Tommy's presence before she sees him. She turns around with a timid smile, the nauseous feeling in her stomach intensifying as she swallows the lump in her throat. 

"Y/N," he says a little taken aback to see her. 

"Good afternoon, Thomas," she says formally, trying not to seem too anxious. Since the night they spent together nine weeks ago, the two have barely spoken. Polly simply stands between them, smiling. "Do you have a moment? I need to speak with you." 

"I do," he replies and leads her into his office hearing the urgency in her voice. 

He glances worriedly at Y/N after closing the door. "Is everything okay?" 

"I saw the doctor this morning."  

As he gets closer to her, he grows increasingly worried. "Are you ill?" 

"What I have does cause sickness." She claims unable to look at him. The amount of thinking she did on her walk to the office did not help her at all. 

"What do you have?" He tilts her head so she can look at him. He notices tears welling up in her eyes. 

She takes a deep breath in and out, gathering all her courage to tell him as h er tears begin to fall. "I'm pregnant, Tommy." 

The Peaky Blinder remains calm as thoughts start running through his head. His eyes never leave hers. Y/N searches his eyes trying to find a hint of what he could be feeling or thinking. 

"You are the only one I've been with, Tommy. The baby is yours and I know you are to be married so if you want, I will leave. I'll go back to London and raise her by myself. I just thought since you're the father, you have the right to know and decide what you want to do," She rambles. Removing Tommy's hands off her face, she steps back from him, her arms going around her stomach, bracing herself for his rejection.  

"Or," Tommy finally speaks. "Or, you can stay here, I can marry you and we can finally be a family." 

"Tommy, you're engaged to someone else," She looks at him as though he's delusional, not believing what she's hearing. 

"Not a single day goes by where I don't think about you and what it would be like if we stayed together," he admits. "Because of that, I ended my engagement. I can't marry someone else when the only woman I'll ever love is standing right there in front of me." 

"Tommy, I-"  

"We are going to get married, we are going to have this baby and we are going to be a family," he steps towards her cupping her face again. This thumbs brush away her fallen tears. "I have never stopped loving you," he whispers before kissing her. 

"I love you too, Tommy," she replies when the kiss is broken and Tommy pulls away from her. She watches him go over to his desk, pull something out of the draw and walk back over to her. In his hand is a red velvet ring box. He opens it revealing the gold ring with three red ruby stones surrounded by diamonds. She gasps recognizing his mother's engagement ring. "Your mother's ring." 

"I've been saving it for you," he tells her. "You're the only one I want to wear it. Will you do me the honour in becoming my wife?" 

She nods her head, as the tears start to fall harder. Tommy smiles a rare smile, one that was only reserved for her, and slides the ring onto her finger before he kisses her deeply wrapping his arms around her waist as her arms go around his shoulders. 

"Well it's about bloody time," Arthur's gruff voice comes from the doorway causing the reunited couple to part. 

Y/N's cheeks flush red. Tommy can't contain the smile on his face. "Brother, there's going to be a wedding after all." 

"Who's getting married?" John asks missing what Arthur just walked in on. The younger of the three takes in the scene before him, seeing Y/N and Tommy wrapped up in each other. "You two are getting married?" he then asks, looking confused. 

"We're getting more than that," Tommy smiles lovingly at the woman who stole his heart when they were sixteen. 

[b3ach-bunn7]

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND PT2

You learn to live without Dabi, and he learns he can’t live without you

nsfw, smut (u can lowkey skip it, it’s right at the end), angst with happy ending, Villan!Dabi

—————————————————————————

You don’t know what you were expecting.

He’s a villain. A villain who kills and burns people alive, who’s looked death in the eyes enough to know him by name. He was cruel and he was calculated. He works for the biggest villains in the country, the ones you’ve seen targeting children, quirkless people like you.

And you think you love him. 

You think you love him and you miss him. So much more than you thought you would’ve. You’d had hope, that first morning when you’d woken up and seen that he was gone, that he’d come back. It was the first time he’d left the house since you’d found him, and you thought that maybe he just wanted fresh air. To go outside. You ignored the voice in the back of your head that told you otherwise, and you held out hope. 

But then a day passed. And another, and another, and soon you lost track of how long it had been. You had to bite the bullet. Pack up the clothes you’d bought him and shove them in a box deep in your closet. The sight of the couch in the middle of your living room was too painful of a reminder, so you put it on Craigslist, and despite the stains and the ugly pattern, someone buys it. You buy an equally cheaper and uglier one, and bite back tears as you push it into place. As quickly as he’d entered your life, Dabi was gone.

You don’t know if you should allow yourself to mourn him. You don’t even know what it is you’re mourning. A lover? A roommate? A friend? A boyfriend? You hadn’t even kissed, barely gotten closer than falling asleep on his shoulder, sitting little too close to him on the couch.

You spend your days trying to forget. You call your friends. You pick up a few extra shifts at work, tend to your ruined flowerbed. Despite all the extra work you give yourself, trying your hardest to tire yourself out, you still can’t get to sleep at night. You toss and turn and think of him. It oddly reminds you of his first few nights here. You’d been convinced he’d come and kill you in the night and you’d made sure to lock your door before you slept. Now, you sort of wish he did kill you. Or at least do something horrible so you wouldn't miss him so much.

You don’t even know why you did it. The smart thing to do would’ve been to just call the authorities, but part of you knew calling the police and the ambulance would cause too much drama. You know where you live. Cheap and affordable places are never going to be in good neighbourhoods.  You’ve seen the types of people that lurk around at night. You can only imagine the reaction of those living around you if you brought police to their front door, the news channels aching for a story on one of the most infamous villains almost dead on some random lady’s door. 

So you took him in. Like a stray. You sewed him up and did what you could to stop the bleeding. You apologised to a man who couldn’t hear you as you cut his shirt away, tossing it in your bathtub. He’d mumbled incoherently to you the whole time you’d seen him shut. Something about rain? Rei? You were unsure. His words were slurred, and the grip he had on the hem of your shirt loosened as he lost consciousness bit by bit. When you finally settled him down on your couch, old tarp shoved underneath him, he was out cold.

And then you waited. For him to wake up and kill you, for him to leave. You had no idea. You felt so stupid every time you looked at the sleeping figure on your couch. The marred skin, the staples hastily pressed into his skin. He looked evil. He looked scary. You scrubbed at your carpets and your tiled bathroom floor for what felt like hours to rid them of the red that had seeped into them. Or maybe just for something to do.

And then when he did wake up, and those piercing blue eyes landed on you, you felt your heart drop into your ass. He was beautiful, a fact that annoyed you greatly. The strong lines of muscle, the straight edge of his jaw. His eyes had narrowed at your staring, and you think that was the beginning of the end. 

He loves to stare. You learnt that very quickly. Any time you changed his bandages or just walked around the house his eyes were trained onto you. Watched your every move. You felt  hunted in your own home, prickling under his undivided attention. 

And you don’t know when the lines blurred. When instead of avoiding him in your room you sat on the loveseat next to him. When you started talking. When you learnt his favourite food was soba, that he liked the colour purple. You felt silly asking him such inane questions but what could you do? You wanted to get to know the man living in your home. Dabi was a villain, sure but he hadn’t been very villainous towards you. Granted, he did threaten to kill you every other sentence but you were almost completely positive he was joking. 

And you got closer. He opened up little by little. Stopped staring at you all the time. You took that as a sign of trust. You dutifully cared for the stab wound on his chest, and he got bolder. 

That was around the time he started flirting with you. Well, he had been flirting from the start, but this was less minor sexual harassment and more actual flirting. Calling you pretty, complimenting the stuff you wore. Kept calling you baby despite you reminding him of your name every time. You ignored the feeling in your stomach at the grin that stretched over his face whenever you flushed red. The fact he was always fucking shirtless. It makes sense he’s well built, what with all the villanous fighting and all. But god, if you can’t stop staring.

Dabi calls you brave. You don’t think you’re brave, you think you’re stupid. You’re stupid to start sitting right next to him. To feel the warmth radiating off his body as he leans his arms on the couch behind you, as he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re reading.

You watch him grow more comfortable in your home. He stops looking so on edge all the time, relaxes. You get used to the sight of him lounging in your home every time you come home from work. 

Dabi starts doing little things. You come home and find the dishwasher empty. He’s learnt where you keep your dishes and your cups. He watches you cook. Pesters you until you let him lick the batter off your spatula. It feels so horribly domestic it makes your stomach turn.

And you ignore the thoughts you have that stop being about roommates and delve into something more dangerous. You don’t miss the way Dabi’s eyes linger on your body, the set in his jaw as you complain about a flirty coworker. You think you’re seeing things, but then your mind drifts to that night at the window. The last time you saw him.

He’d looked so perfect. The two of you soft and ready to sleep. It had been early, early enough that the sleep niggled in the back of your mind, loosened your tongue. He leant against the window and his biceps curled as he leant forward to put out his cigarette, flicking it on the floor. You tut, and he grabbed another while assuring you littering is not the worst crime he’s committed.  

And you knew he could see the disbelief on your face when he called himself ugly. And you barely thought as you call him hot. Hot as fuck, at that. His lips twitched like he was about to smile, instead he brushed you off.

And then you touched him. You couldn’t help yourself. You’d always wondered and now seemed as good a time as any. With you in a shirt that smelled like him, his eyes not leaving yours for longer than a minute. He didn’t stop you, barely tried with a teasing comment you knew held no meaning. You traced his skin like a puzzle, from the rough texture of his scars to the soft skin next to it. He’s told you time and time again he doesn’t feel but he shivered against your touch like he did. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he was looking at you so intensely you felt his gaze down to the bottom of your feet. 

And you chest tightened as he let you. He let you touch him, and it didn’t feel like the times when you’d leant on his arm or bandaged him up. It felt different. It filled you with emotion you can’t describe, and you let it. And when you brushed against his face you saw him breathe. Physically saw his chest heave up as your touch became more insistent. Dabi looked at your lips and you looked at his, wondering what it would feel like to kiss the scarred skin on them.

And then your phone rang, and the moment was shattered. Now, you can’t remember what your mother had wanted, what the call was about.

And when you awoke the next morning, he was gone.

Maybe you pushed too far. Maybe he had business to attend to. You’ll never know, because he never told you. You had no way to contact him and you don’t think you would if you could. The message he was trying to give you was clear.

Your friends invite you to drinks, and you decline. It had been a long day at work, and while you could do with your favourite pink mimosas, you’re tired. The idea of being in a bar right now makes you cringe. So you bid your farewells, and make your way home. You stop to grab a few groceries. It took you a few times to remember you didn’t need two times the amount you usually buy.

You don’t think about Dabi as you walk up your driveway. Not when you look at the newly planted flowers you’d bought at the market. You will never see him again, and it’s a fact you need to learn to live with.

At least, that’s what you think, until you walk into your house to find him sitting on your couch. His leg is jigging impatiently up and down, and he’s wearing the long trench coat you see him in on the news. You stand in the doorway, shopping bags dropping to the floor. The noise pulls him out of whatever stupor he’s in and he turns to you. Eyes travelling up your body before he looks away.

“The lock on your door is shit. Took me less than a minute to pick it.”  

You don’t say anything. It’s your turn to just stare at him. His voice sounds exactly the same and yet you feel like you’d forgotten the low drawl he always spoke in. 

“You should get that shit changed. It’s a shitty neighbourhood you live in.” 

He looks at you again and it seems to wake you up. You grab your bags and take them to the kitchen. You wrap your coat around a chair and sigh, hands rubbing at your face. Your hands shake, and you clench them tightly so he won’t notice. You walk back inside and Dabi is still sitting up. Like he’s scared to let himself relax.

You clear your throat. “Are- Is the wound okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

 Dabi looks confused for a second. “Oh. Yeah, s’fine.”

You nod. You haven’t moved from the entryway of the living room.

“The fuck are you standing around for?” Dabi speaks suddenly. 

Your eyebrows furrow at the tone of his voice. “Don’t talk to me like that. I don’t know what’s going on right now. Why- Why are you here?”

Dabi fixes you with a pointed look. He doesn’t say anything. You clench your fists tighter. He’s starting to piss you off.

“Well? You can't just, just break into my house whenever you want. I don’t know what you think this is.”

“God, I leave for two weeks and my roommate status is revoked?” He drawls.

“This isn’t funny, Dabi.” You scoff. “I’m not in the mood for your jokes right now.”

“You aren’t?”

“No.” You shake your head. “It’s been two weeks. You just left without saying anything.” 

“Did I owe you an explanation?” 

Your brows furrow and you scoff. “Well it would’ve been nice, considering you’d been living in my house for two fucking months.” 

Dabi just shrugs. And you want to throttle him and hug him and kiss him all at once. Instead, you just stay where you’re standing, crossing your arms. He huffs a laugh at your figure.

“I feel like a school teacher is about to tell me off.”

“Dabi.”

He glances at you quickly then turns away. It’s his turn to clench his fists, and you pale a little at the sight of smoke curling out of them. You take a small step back.

“Are you- You’re not here to-“ You don’t even finish you sentence but he rolls his eyes, frustrated.

“I’m not here to fucking kill you. I would’ve done that a long time ago if I was.”

“Then what? Why are you here, Dabi?”

Dabi goes quiet again and you seethe. He’s not fucking talking. Nothing of meaning, anyway. He’s just looking at you and it's making you more nervous and antsy than you already are. 

Just when you’re about to say something else, he rises to his feet. And in a few quick strides, he’s in front of you. You’re not short by any means, but he towers over you, the smell of smoke and cigarettes lingering on his clothes. His hands twitch like he’s about to reach out to you before he decides against it.

“I’m here because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you.” He rasps. Dabi speaks like the words hurt to get out, and he looks anywhere but at your face when he says them.

“I thought leaving would make me forget about you. But I can't. It’s like you fucking haunting me.” He laughs slightly but he looks slightly feral as he does so.

His hands reach up. They grip the edges of your unzipped coat and pull you closer. 

“Why are you trying to forget about me?” You mumble.

He shakes his head. Slowly, eyes screwed shut. “Because I know. I know you don’t- You don’t deserve this. You deserve a good man, baby. Not somebody like me.”

You want to tell him that you want him. Not someone else. But you can’t speak. He lets your coat slip down off your shoulders. One hand curls around your waist and the other travels up. Settling on your shoulder, fingers dancing against your pulse. 

“And I know that. And yet I can’t keep away.”

“You-“

“I thought about killing you.” 

He speaks like he’s talking about the weather. And that should scare you, but his hand is so gentle as it closes around your neck, so tender and you don’t think he could kill you if he tried.

“Coming back and setting this whole place alight with you inside. But that wouldn’t do shit, would it?” You swallow roughly and his hand moves against your throat.

“And then I tried to fuck the thought of you away.” The hand on your waist tightens its grip.

“But that didn’t work either. Every single one of them reminded me of you.” 

You shake your head. “You’re an idiot.”

He tilts his head. “Am i?”

“Yes. You don’t get to decide what I deserve and what I don't.” You frown. You reach up and cover the hand on your shoulder with your own.

“If- If I wanna be with you, I’ll be with you. Whether you think I deserve it or not.” 

His finger moves against your lips. “You wanna be with a big bad villain?”

You smile slightly. “You’re not very bad to me.”

Dabi sighs, defeated. “You’re so stupid, you know.” 

“Yeah, probably.” Your other hand comes up to grip the collar of his jacket.

He breathes heavily. “I don’t do this.”

“That’s okay. We can figure it out. If. If you want to.”

“And what if I don't?” 

You shrug. “I don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t.”

Dabi huffs a laugh. “Fuck. You gonna let me kiss you?”

“If I have to.”

And it’s not like how you imagined he’d kiss you. You thought he’d be rough and violent, but he’s so slow as he leans his head down and presses his lips against yours. His eyes flutter shut and yours follow quickly after, hand on his jacket pulling him in closer. And for a moment you think you should feel guilt, some horror that a murderer is kissing you so softly, but he sighs into your mouth and you don’t think you could care if you tried.

His hand curls inside your hair, tugging your head back to give him better access. He crowds over you, and the hand on your waist is hot as he starts moving with more purpose. He licks against your bottom lip and you open your mouth. His tongue tease over yours, and you feel the cool metal of a piercing and you whine, hands pulling him closer.

Your noise seems to awaken something in him. Because suddenly he isn’t being soft and gentle, and he pushes you back until you hit the door of your kitchen, and he’s on you. Hands lifting up your shirt, mouth pressuring hot, heavy kisses on your mouth, your neck. He bites hard and you wince, but he just grins at you.

“Don’t give me that face, you love it. Take this off for me.”

He pulls the straps off your bra as you reach behind you and unclip it clumsily. Dabi looks at you like he’s got stars in his eyes. He takes too long to travel the expanse of your neck, your collarbones. He takes his time before he reaches your chest, sucking marks into your breasts, and you moan as his hand reaches up and pinches your nipple.

“When’s the last time someone fucked you, huh? M’gonna ruin you for anyone else.” He breathes, tongue licking over your nipple.

“Dabi, please-“ 

“So pretty when you beg, baby. Be patient now.” 

He doesn’t stop licking at your chest, mumbling about how pretty your tits look, as he uses a hand to undos the drawstrings on your scrubs. He holds your trousers away from your body and you gasp at the heat on your legs as he burns them off your body. He grins, all teeth and stretching staples.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Not unless you ask for it.”

His fingers trail over the front of your underwear and your cheeks heat up, embarrassed at the wet patch on the front. He clicks his tongue, pressing down with two fingers and you keen at the pressure on your clit.

“All this for me? You been hiding this pretty pussy from me?” He hums.

You lean your head back and it thuds against the wall. Dabi slips his coat off and the t-shirt he’s wearing quickly. You let your eyes trail over his body, fingers dancing against the scar across his chest. He kisses you again, long and hard. 

“Want you to cum on my fingers, okay? Can you do that for me?” He murmurs, free hand curving against your cheek.

“Yes, yes, please-“ 

Your voice hitches as he burns off your underwear. Without warning, he shoves a finger inside of you and your nails dig into his shoulder, a curse leaving your mouth at the sudden intrusion. His finger hits deeper than yours ever have and he barely gives you time to adjust before he shoves in another. You can hear it as he pumps his fingers in and out, can hear how wet you are for him. You move against the steady rhythm.

“Such a slut. Look at you, humping on my fucking fingers.” Dabi grins and you face flushes and you turn away. He tuts, grabbing your face in his hand and turning it back to look at him.

“No, you watch. Look at yourself dripping all over me.” He breathes, kissing the crook of your neck.

You moan as his thumb circles against your clit. He begins scissoring his fingers, stretching your walls. You let your hands run down his body, smoothing against the panes of his chest. He just watches you face as it twitches the further he pushes, you face scrunching in pleasure. You keen as he hits that soft spot deep inside you and he looks like he’s struck gold, suddenly moving with more fervour. He puts in another finger and you shake your head, breathing getting heavier.

“I’m close, Dabi.” You pant. It’s been an embarrassingly short time but you feel your toes curl as he presses into you again.

“Good girl, you gonna cum for me? Gonna squirt all over my fingers?”

You arch your back, chasing and running away from the sensations. “Dabi- please-”

He licks a stripe up your neck. “Beg me. Ask me if you can cum.”

“Please, Dabi, please I need- I need to cum, make me cum.”

“Fuck, come on. “ His thumbs speeds up on your clit and your back arches as his fingers pump into you faster. He whispers sweet words into your skin, dragging you through your orgasm. You breathe heavily, leaning against him as you come down from your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you watch with lidded eyes as he sucks them into his mouth, tongue curling around as he groans at the taste of you. 

“Taste so good, baby. Now up. Let’s go.” 

He pats the side of your leg, gesturing for you to jump. You rest your arms on his shoulders, head leaning against his. You do and watch as his biceps curl as he carries you effortlessly, hands gripping at your ass as he enters your kitchen. You eyebrows furrow and you tap his shoulder.

“Dabi, my bedrooms down the hall, what are you-”

“Can’t wait. Need you now.”

Before you can protest he drops you and bends you over your own counter. You grunt as your chest hits the cool surface. Your skin welcomes the cool sensation because you're covered in marks, purple and red and indents of his teeth littering your skin. Dabi’s hands smooth over your ass and you yelp as he slaps it. He uses his other hand to grab both of yours, easily circling both your wrists in one of his.

“Been dreaming of this ass, you know.” He starts unbuckling his belt. You try to turn around but he pushes you back. “Always walking around in those shorts. Such a fucking tease.”

And when he presses his against you, you can feel him. Long and hot and so impossibly hard on your back, and so big. You have no idea how the hell he’s going to fit inside of you. Dabi notices the way your thighs clench and you can’t see the smirk on his face but you can hear it when he moans into your ear. So filthy. He sounds like a pornstar.

“You feel that? It’s all for you, baby. You put that there.” Dabi grunted. “And I’m- Wait, shit.”

This time when you turn, Dabi lets you. He looks pissed and you’re momentarily distracted by the sight of him with his jeans and boxer slung below his hips.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I was in such a fucking hurry to get here i forgot to bring a condom. Or condoms.” He frowns.

You relax. “Oh. It’s fine, I’m on birth control, you don’t need it.”

Dabi freezes slightly. “What?”

“I mean, I’m clean. If you are too, then yeah, you don’t need one.”

Dabi just stares. Breathing heavily still. You falter, thinking you said the wrong thing. “I mean, if you want one still I probably ha-”

He descends on you again. He kisses you desperately, both hands cupping your face as he presses you into him so you can feel him on your thigh. When he parts he pants for breath, turning you around once more, bending you back onto your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. Want me to fill you up, is that it?” He hisses as you grind back into his crotch. He delivers another slap to your ass, this time harder, hotter.

“Want me to fuck you until you’re dripping all over your own kitchen?” He laughs as you shudder, and you nod frantically. “Spread your legs for me. Wider, baby.” 

You comply shakily. You arch your back. “Come on, Dabi.” “Patience, Y/N. Don’t worry, you’ll come on this cock.”

And he lines himself up at your entrance. Dipping himself between your folds and dragging the tip of his dick, wet with his pre-cum, up and down your slit, gathering your wetness and spreading it around his dick. He spits into his hand, uses it to wet his dick before he starts pushing into you. The stretch is delicious, and you grip the edge of the counter as he pushes into you slowly. He shudders, cursing low under his breath. 

“Good girl, that’s it. God, you’re so, fuck, you’re so warm.” He grunts.

You whimper as he pushes himself fully inside you. You think if he was any bigger you’d see him in your stomach. He stills for a moment, lets you adjust to him. You can hear his restraint, hands so hot as they hold your arms back. He waits for a moment too long though, because you start wriggling, pushing your hips back.

“Please, Dabi, come on.”

His hands slide down your back to grip your hips. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“Want you. Fuck me, Dabi, please.” You whine. 

It spurs him into action. He thrusts into you, deep enough that it pushes you against the counter. You moan loudly and he groans, hands leaving bruises in the dip of your hips as he fucks into you harder.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s a good girl. So fucking wet.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re so perfect for me.”

You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment. His thrusts were constant and so deep you feel so full of him. Sweat drips down your back and your hair plasters to your forehead. Dabi presses kisses down your back, hands kneading your ass.

“That feel good?”

“Yes, yes, Dabi!” You cry out.

“Gonna fuck this pussy so good. Nobody will ever fuck you like I can fuck you, you hear me?” 

He suddenly pulls out. Flips you around so that you’re facing him. You barely have time to think before he’s back inside you. Your hands curl around his neck and your face rests on his shoulder, mindlessly mumbling as he pounds into you. Dabi lets you lean against the counter so he can grab at your hair, pulling your head back.

“I wanna hear you, sweetheart. That bratty little mouth of yours.” 

“S-Shut up.” You breathe, relishing in the feeling on him inside you.

“Been waiting so long for this. For you.”

His praise becomes breathier, his voice stuttering as he gets closer. His finger comes down to rub at your clit, eyes shining as you writhe. No matter how you move he’s there, rubbing maddening circles against you. You moan louder than you’d like, and Dabi leans back, impressed. Kisses your forehead.

“Want, shit, want you to come for me again. Yeah? Gonna come on my cock?” He leans down and nibbles at your ear, voice vibrating low in his chest.

“Yes, I’m close. I’m close.” You breathe, hands scratching red lines down his back.

“Good. Gonna fill you up. Fuck you full of my cum until you can’t walk.” 

You nod, clenching down on him and he groans, low and long. “M’not gonna last if you keep tightening around me like that.”

He loses all composure, thrusting frantically as your chest moves up and down erratically. He kisses you, and you struggle to reciprocate with the tightening of your core. The rise in intensity has your eyes rolling in the back of your head, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you cum, and he curses and sings your name like a prayer as his fingers still work you. He thrusts once, twice and then he’s cumming and you’re thankful that his hands come up to hold your waist because you think you’re legs might give out.

The room is silent except for the two of you panting for breath. He rests his head on your shoulder, black locks tickling the side of your face. You reach hand up and you rub at his scalp and he sighs.

“God. Why did we do this in here? This is so unhygienic.” You huff.

Dabi just smiles lazily. Presses a kiss behind your ear and the side of your neck.

“You’re right. Let’s go shower. Together.”

“Fine.” You sigh like you don’t want to but you already feel heat pool into your gut.

“Good. Does this mean I can finally sleep in your bed?”

“Oh, shut up.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

guess u did fix him.. Dabi if ur reading this come home the kids miss u

idk I feel like Dabi wouldn’t be that rough in bed yk? Like I feel like his life is so violent he needs some break from it. Also this is my second ever smut BARE WITH ME if it’s bad

I’ve had the longesttt two weeks 😔 back to back uni and work so I will be having a break for a couple days, so enjoy this fic!!!

[stayconnecteed]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ no nut november. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀sigma kappa zeta.

⠀⠀𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( november event , 𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀. )⠀by stayconnecteed.

1.⠀⠀PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀each member individually x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀non!idol au, college au, sigma kappa zeta au⠀; stablished relationships, brother's best friend trope, idiots to lovers / best friends to lovers, started dating recently ( first time together ), friends with benefits to lovers.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀it all starts with a bet, the no nut november challenge. comedy, but mostly porn with plot. the smut warnings 一besides kisses, hickeys, heavy make out, talk about sexual preferences一 are oral fixation, mirror sex, corruption kink, choking kink, amiquesis, begging, hair pulling, phone sex, dollification, restraints, clothed sex, dry humping, daddy kink and make up sex. swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy. more detailed warnings per chapter.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀couldn't decide if i should write kinktober or nnn and ended up creating a mix. may i present to you mars' no nut november, but every time a member loses, the scene involves a kink ( or more ) hehe ¡¡big big thank you to @cinhomi my baby rora who helped me to clear doubts i had about some plots 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀if any under 18 or ageless acc interacts with this series they will be blocked. the content presented throughout the event might be comedic, but it's mostly for adults. that being said, if you're not comfortable with the kinks or the plot, please leave. read under your own responsability.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝗌𝑦𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌.

throughout the academic year, the sigma kappa zeta fraternity hosted so many parties that it was impossible to keep track of them all. the leader, bang chan, organised the beginning-of-summer party 一the last before going on vacation一, but the first party, held the first weekend of the first term, was also very famous. it happened in its sticky atmosphere, in the house where the eight frat members lived, that hwang hyunjin heard about the no nut november challenge for the first time. he proposed it to the group before the end of october, and when november 1st arrived, everyone was more than ready to win.

─────　 “ㅤ🥠ㅤ⸻ㅤnever bet i𝑓 you are unsure o𝑓 the outcome.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗑 𝗈𝑓 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝑟𝗌.

00 ⊹    the bet : introduction ( 4.2k words ) 01 ⊹    try it, bite it, lick it : first loser 02 ⊹    as she walks through : second loser 03 ⊹    please, please, please : third loser 04 ⊹    oh, to touch her : fourth loser 05 ⊹    to forget my own name : fifth loser 06 ⊹    my pretty angel : sixth loser 07 ⊹    make you mine : seventh loser 08 ⊹    take my breathe away : eighth loser

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝖺𝑏𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝑛𝗍.

━━━━━　　　　　𝒖niverse.

⠀⠀come home⠀⠀:⠀⠀seo changbin⠀⠀( click here )⠀⠀you and changbin met in college, but your love story began at one of chan’s farewell parties. the house of sigma kappa zeta had seen you fall in love, and twenty years later it witnessed how much your love had grown, when you return for the anniversary of its founding.

━━━━━　　　　　𝒕aglist.

to be part of it, you can fill THIS FORM, leave a comment or send an ask. if you appear in bold it means i can't tag you, unfortunately.

@skzms , @starlostastronaut , @rylea08 , @atinyniki , @jazziwritesthings , @manuosorioh , @hanjsquokka , @linosssss , @babybearcubbs , @kayleefriedchicken , gnabnahc097 , @caitlyn98s , @reignessance , @starlostseungmin , @bbokari711 , @nebugalaxy , @nxtt2-u , @strawberrysworld26 , @catiuskaa , @lyramundana , @jisunglyricist , @jisuperboard , @choixlia , seungminniez , juuh-07 , ayyonoona , @seolarzone , @my-neurodivergent-world

( + )ㅤㅤ @dearalice , @hyunjinhoexxx , @jisungsbff01 , @highlydestiny

( + )⠀⠀ @ruth-odyssey , @paborachaslvt , @straykidslvr , @tirena1 , fantasicalmagical , @unhxlyim , @tsunderelino , @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

ㅤㅤ© stayconnecteed 2024 ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 5 - ( c.s )

part four

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- cursing, kinda fluffy in the beginning, smutty smut at the end (YEP U READ THAT RIGHT FOLKS)

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: HIIII i apologize for the wait!!! part five is here and boy is she something, she’s long asf and i hope you love <3 if i forgot to tag you i am so so sorry, leave me a comment and i’ll absolutely fix it! my inbox is open for u guys always

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @l9vesick @55sturn @mattinside @sturnioloco @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @breeloveschris @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @hearts4matty @orangeypepsi @luckistar-posts @angelworldspost @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @hearts4chris @rubyjaneaxx @reallykaz @sturnlvrs @neatcarrot767 @stonermattsgf @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @reallykaz @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts

trying to push chris away, especially after the party, might possibly be the hardest task you’ve ever faced. he’s relentless in trying to get your attention, and the bruise he left on your neck is a fading reminder of your prior weakness.

he’s been teasing you endlessly for the past four days; working out in front of his window with the music blaring, making sure he’s always shirtless, texting you at least once a day just to flirt.

and it’s slowly chipping away at your self-defense, as pathetic as it makes you feel. you don’t want to give in to your stupid fucking temptations, but it’s so hard not to.

not to mention cassidy and ramona have been prying about him every few hours, trying to see how this is all going to play out. you wish you knew, but you don't.

you’re straddling the fence of hatred and lust now, still unsure where you stand.

your internal struggle to forget about him has haunted you, and it weighs on your shoulders now as you sit criss-cross in bed, trying to focus on starting your essay.

your phone vibrates, facedown beside you, and you presume that it’s the very person you’re trying to ignore.

you’re correct, of course.

chris

let me take you out

you haven’t been responding to him, but this text catches you by surprise, just enough to type out an actual answer.

y/n

no

you go to set the device back down when it pings again in your hand. you flip it in your palm, letting the screen light up.

chris

ok then let me eat you out

your stomach flips, and you instinctively glance out your window to your left. chris is grinning at you from ear to ear, freshly showered and (of course) shirtless after practice. he’s also sitting in bed, legs hanging off the side as his gray sweats bunch up around his waist.

y/n

no.

you’re a creep

chris

you love it when i talk to you like that

you look back up from your messages to flip him off. he tilts his head back, and you imagine hearing his loud laughter as if you were right there with him.

y/n

you think walking around without a shirt on is winning me over?

chris

maybe a little?

y/n

think again pretty boy

he pouts just a bit before standing up, waving a hand to indicate you should meet him at the window. you listen, wedging the pane upwards so the chilly january air hits you right in the face.

the sun has set now, so chris is backlit by the light of his room as he stares at you, placing his palms on the windowsill so he can casually lean out into the night.

“what do you want?” you spit, wrapping your arms around yourself to fight the cold.

“i can’t talk to my favorite girl?” he smirks, breath fogging up slightly in front of him.

you don’t know why he won’t put on a fucking shirt, even in the freezing atmosphere. his body certainly isn’t bad to look at, but you’re too stubborn to ever say it, especially when he’s so smug.

“no, you can’t. what do you want?” you twirl your finger, as if to tell him to get on with it.

“i want to hang out.” chris reiterates in a serious tone.

you roll your eyes before you can think twice about it, because it still sounds so stupid coming out of his mouth. “yeah, right.”

“i mean it. no funny business. unless you want that, of course.” he says, still toying with you even when he’s supposedly being genuine.

you shake your head, blowing out a long breath of exasperation. but the curiosity takes over, and you have to admit you’re a little intrigued.

“what could you possibly have in mind?”

thirty minutes later you’re back inside the hockey arena, a pair of skates dangling in one hand as you follow chris down the walkway toward the player bench.

it’s quiet, since it’s the beginning of the week and nobody is allowed on the college team’s ice aside from players. he had even chatted up one of the employees, which just helped secure you your time to goof off alone.

you had no idea that this was where he was taking you, because he insisted on it being a surprise and made you keep your eyes closed for the entire drive, but the revelation ended up being far more pleasant than you expected.

you actually used to love going ice skating as a kid, probably because you adored watching hockey and figuring skating so much. it’s been a while, and you know you’ll look terrible next to chris, but you don’t really mind.

he leads the way and sits down, jamming his feet into his hockey skates. then he uses his newly freed hand to wave you over, which makes you realize that you’ve been standing around like an NPC.

“come on, don’t be shy. i’ll lace you up.”

it’s not really an offer, because the second you plop down beside him he’s on one knee, taking the skates out of your hands gently. he doesn’t even give you time to yell at him for the dumb nickname.

“i can do it myself, you know.” you protest as he slides one of your sneakers off, replacing it and guiding your foot into one of the skates.

“that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly now would it?” he looks up at you through his fluffy brown hair, a silly grin playing on his lips.

“oh, i wasn’t aware i was in the presence of a gentleman.” you tease, looking around like you’re searching for whoever he’s talking about.

chris just repeats his actions with your other foot, careful to move you softly as he slips the other skate on. “i wouldn’t talk shit before we get on the ice, you know.”

“please, i’ll skate circles around you.”

it’s an empty threat and he knows it, because he chuckles as he ties his own laces fluidly before using your knees to push himself off the ground.

“then how about you get out there and show me?” chris challenges, extending his hand to you.

“let’s do it.” you take it without thinking, and you hate that it was just a natural reaction.

you hate wanting to hold it, and the fact that you don’t feel disgusted.

chris pulls you up and waits until you’re fully steady before he starts tugging you along in excitement.

he lets go once he opens the small door to the ice, skating out to the middle and doing a little spin around the BU emblem just to show off. but it’s actually endearing to see him so in his element, so passionate about something.

“care to join?” he invites, and you suck in a breath before stepping out onto the ice.

you’re a little wobbly at first, awkwardly skating along and trying to make sure your knees don’t buckle before you even get to him. you’re also approaching with a bit too much momentum, and you fumble against his hard chest.

but chris just wraps his arms around you without comment, ensuring that you don’t fall flat on your ass.

he likes having you this close to him, even in a non-sexual way. sure, he’s insanely attracted to you, but he’s also found that he just likes your company, as sappy and scary as that is to him.

“oops.” you mumble into his sweatshirt, which has the familiar smell of his cologne on it, before you unravel yourself from his arms.

“you look like a baby deer trying to walk.” chris jokes with a wide smile, letting his fingers slip from your body so you can actually move around.

“shut up.” you sock his chest lightly with your fist.

he chuckles, holding a hand to the spot you hit as if you really hurt him. “hey, i’m just calling it like is it.”

“and i’m just warming up.” you argue, using one foot to propel yourself toward one end of the rink.

the more you skate around, the more confidence you gain in your ability, and the more comfortable you feel on your feet. chris follows you closely, moving with such rhythm that it almost looks like he’s floating.

“sure you are.” he drags out the ‘e’ for emphasis, doing a few little laps around you as you continue getting used to it.

“well you’re certainly not helping, you ass.” you grumble, staring down at your feet in focus.

and then you feel yourself trip up slightly, and your arms immediately fly out as you attempt to steady yourself. but you’re flailing, and chris can see the panic cross your face.

but before you tumble, he skates up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist so you can lean your weight back. his body stops you from toppling, and your heart slams hard and fast in your chest from the fright.

“careful, baby.” he says into your hair.

it sends little chills running up and down your spine, and you’re too nervous to tilt your head to look at him. you know how close his face would be if you did.

chris isn’t even sure himself why he said that, how he let the entirely new pet name slip, because he doesn’t use it with anyone. not with his brief past “girlfriends” or flings, not even with you. but now he is, and it rolled off of his tongue so easily that he feels sick.

“that’s a new one.” you practically pant, short of breath from both the near-fall and his words.

a volcano of butterflies is erupting in your stomach, and you know that’s not from the previous scare. it’s fully because of him.

fuck.

“wanna try a spin?” he deflects masterfully, and this spurs you out of your slight stupor enough to straighten up and glide away from him.

“fine, but you’re not allowed to make fun of me.”

“no promises.”

for the rest of the time spent at the rink, chris tries to keep his usual unserious demeanor going, but something has shifted, despite how minuscule the comment was. you’re both unknowingly still thinking about it on the car ride home, each wondering how the other feels.

even the goodbye is strange. he pulls you in for a quick side hug before darting back to his house, leaving you standing all alone in his driveway wondering what changed.

you sigh and turn to head back up your own front steps, slipping inside as quietly as possible even though you know cass and mona are busy in their rooms studying for upcoming exams.

it’s just you and your thoughts as you climb the stairs to your room, gnawing on your bottom lip.

you wouldn’t have been so freaked out by the pet name if he hadn’t frozen up himself, but his reaction makes you wonder if he ever meant to use it in the first place.

and even if he didn’t, why did it seem like such a big deal? its not like he hasn’t used stupid nicknames with you before.

questions fill your brain as you shuffle into your bathroom, throwing the shower on and stripping before stepping into the warm water. the pressure feels good on your shoulders, and you try and rub out some of the tension in them.

chris has just been surprise after surprise recently. you’re seeing a different side to him, one that’s seemingly emotionally invested in you, and you don’t want to let yourself believe it.

believing in someone means you can actually get hurt.

you try and relax into the steam as you rinse your hair out and shave, though it only helps a little bit. by the time you turn the faucet off and step out, you’re still just as confused.

you wrap yourself in your plush towel, tucking it so it stays as up you pad back into your room.

a song that’s been stuck in your head all day falls softly from your lips as you pick through your dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear and sliding them on, letting the towel fall the the floor.

your back is to the window as you continue scanning the drawers for one particular shirt, which is apparently elusive tonight. you’re still unsuccessful even after rummaging through every drawer, and you’re just bending down to check your hamper when your phone buzzes against the wooden cabinet.

it makes you flinch, one hand flying to your bare chest as the other reaches for the device.

chris

give me permission to come over.

now.

your eyes dart to the window as you lunge to grab your towel off of the floor. you could have sworn you closed the curtains before getting into the shower, but when you look up you’re staring right at chris.

his eyes are dark as he watches you run over to the glass, towel barely covering you as you yank them closed. your heart is hammering in your chest, and you can feel yourself breaking out into a nervous sweat.

y/n

you were NOT supposed to see that

chris

well i did

let me come over

i’m fucking serious.

y/n

no

my roommates are home

and that was an accident

you scramble around and throw on the first sweatshirt you can find. you don’t care what you have on anymore, as long as it’s something.

chris

then come here

y/n

no it’s already late

chris

you have no idea what you just fucking did to me

if you don’t come over i’m coming there

it’s your choice.

the string of curses that escapes your mouth are anything but kind. you have no idea what to do or how to get him off this rampage, and you despise the way your stomach is flipping from his texts.

y/n

chris.

chris

pick or i will

y/n

fucking hell

i’m coming over

you quickly pull on a pair of joggers and jam your feet into your slippers, wringing your hair out one more time. you know if you don’t hurry, chris will take it upon himself to come over here, and that’s the last thing you want right now.

your insides twist as you make your way down to the main level, out the front door and across the lawn. the inside of your cheek is irritated from the way you’re biting down on it every other second.

it’s ominously quiet tonight, and even though it’s the middle of winter, your body is on fire as if it’s a hundred degrees.

at this point, you’re not throwing caution to the wind anymore; you’re burying it in a grave.

your knuckles rap against his front door moments later. it only takes seconds for it to open, and chris tugs you inside instantly, slamming it closed behind you afterwards.

it’s not long before he has you backed against the foyer wall, his hands on either of your hips like he’s holding you there. his mouth captures yours roughly without warning, tongue gliding against your bottom lip.

there’s nothing slow or sweet about it; he’s desperate to feel every single inch of you.

chris had been mulling over his slip up in his room since you guys got home from the arena, nearly pulling his hair out just wondering what the hell his problem is.

and then he just happened to look over at your window, like he always does when he’s thinking about you, only to find you moving around in nothing but that tiny black thong.

seeing all of you exposed was like every wet dream he’s every had, and it nearly sent him over the edge right there. he needs you, in every single possible way, and there’s no use denying it anymore.

he’s practically devouring you, and you’re letting him because his lips are just so damn soft. you’re tired too, so tired of fighting your instincts, tired of fighting him.

he moves to your jawline, then to the base of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as he goes. it’s impossible to contain the light moan that escapes your mouth. chris wants to hear it over and over and over.

“nobody’s home tonight.” he mutters against your throat.

his voice is deep, muffled slightly against your body, and the vibrations combined with the feeling of the scruff of his beard makes you throb. he’s pressed against your thigh, also very clearly straining for more.

“upstairs?”

chris pulls away, a smirk playing on his lips. even in the dim lighting, you can see he’s extremely satisfied by your response.

his hand slips into yours for the second time today, pulling you toward his room impatiently. you know which door it is before he leads you through it, but its still the first time you’re seeing it from a view that’s not your window.

you recognize all of the posters, ranging from hockey stars to movies to rappers, his plush dark comforter, the gym equipment he has pushed in the corner. it’s weird, because you told yourself you’d never end up here.

before you can think more, chris pulls you to him by the waist once again, walking you backwards until your legs hit the bedframe. your knees buckle and a small gasp escapes as you fall back against the mattress.

he leans down to kiss you again swiftly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting just hard enough. your fingers tangle in his soft hair so you can tug his roots.

he groans at the force, disconnecting from your lips slightly, and you see it as your opportunity.

“if we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way.” you whisper against his mouth, trailing your hand down his body and wrapping it in his shirt so you can pull him into bed next to you.

before he can protest, you roll over to straddle him, thighs on either side of his hips. his eyes are wide in anticipation, clearly surprised by you taking charge.

“whatever you want, princess.” chris gives in, licking his lips as his hands grip the flesh of your legs like his life depends on.

“god, you’ve never sounded sexier.” you tease before you crash your mouth against his once more.

a few seconds later you switch your focus to his neck, deciding that you selfishly want to leave some hickies of your own. you suck on his skin, and a groan escapes his lips.

it spurs you on, so you rock your hips against his, grinding against his obvious hard on. his hands slide to grip your ass, giving one side a light slap as you shift against each other.

you grin against his lips, knowing that he’s becoming more and more desperate, trying to force you to move faster. but you still your hips, grinding at a tantalizingly slow pace.

chris moves one hand so his fingers can nimbly trace the bottom of your sweatshirt, pushing it up your body so he can tear it over your head. he releases a long breath as he stares at your full tits, happy that you didn’t end up finding a bra before coming over.

“fuck, i can’t do this anymore.”

he shifts, bucking his hips slightly so he can toss you off of him and crawl on top of you, trapping you between his arms.

“so impatient.” you joke, staring up at him with those gorgeous eyes he loves so much.

“been waiting way too long for you.” he breathes, hooking his thumbs underneath your pants.

you lift your hips up so he can tug them off your waist, sliding them down your legs and tossing them to his floor. his eyes wander across your body, finally able to completely take you in now that you’re right beneath him.

it makes you feel powerful, seeing the very obvious lust in his eyes as he stares at you.

“you’re fucking perfect, you know that?” chris asks, his fingers dancing across your neck so he can brush your damp hair aside.

the caress is gentle, and yet the weight of his words still makes you involuntarily clench your legs together. but he’s quick to push them back apart with his knee, forcing you to open up for him.

“don’t you dare hide now, i need to see all of you.”

he bows down between your legs so he can leave soft pecks along your collarbone, one hand groping your bare chest. you feel him creeping lower, mouth tracing down the valley of your breasts before pulling one of your nipples into his mouth.

you gasp in pleasure, and your hands tangle in his hair once more as your back arches off of the bed in need.

“oh my god, chris.” you whine, and he loves you gripping his curls.

he twitches against the inside of your thigh as his tongue flicks back and forth, so turned on by all the little noises you’re making. then he drags his wet lips over to your other hardened bud, ensuring he doesn’t neglect any part of you.

you squirm against his sheets, and the pressure of desire is quickly building in the pit of your stomach.

“feel good, baby?” he asks, confidently throwing the pet name out now.

chris doesn’t give a shit. as far as he’s concerned, you’re in his bed, and right now you’re his girl, so he’s going to call you whatever feels best in the moment. your head is so fuzzy with pleasure you don’t even pick up on it.

“so fucking good.” you encourage him desperately as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

the further he goes, the more your gut twists itself into knots. it’s been a while since anyone has touched you like this, kissed you like this, and it’s got you needy as all hell.

finally, his mouth meets your hip bone, and another breathy moan passes your lips like a reflex.

he’s on his knees now, using both of his hands to pry your shaky legs apart, making sure he has full access to the place you need him most. his hot breath hits the wetness of your panties, and goosebumps rise on your skin.

“so desperate for me already, huh?” chris goads, applying two fingers to your clothed heat.

the pressure from his little circular motions makes you buck your hips, and he uses his free hand to try and still your movements. he’s spent far too many hours fantasizing about this moment to rush it. hes going to take his time with you.

“no, use your words, angel. tell me what you need or i’ll stop.”

it’s a demand, though he slides the black material to the side before you can even reply, just so there’s no longer a barrier between your heat and his touch. you’re dripping, and he swirls his fingers a bit harder, trying to get you to speak.

“more, chris, please.” you finally manage to beg, even though it drives you nuts being at his disposal.

“good girl, was that so hard?” chris hums, fully entranced by the pleasure that’s so apparent on your face.

one of his fingers teases your core for a few seconds before he fully slips it inside, pumping it in and out slowly. then he adds another and you’re practically writhing, unable to control your reactions any longer.

“shit.” you hiss, hands leaving his hair to grip his comforter, searching for any kind of relief.

chris curls his fingers every time he plunges them back inside of you, enjoying the way you tense every time. that being said, you’re both becoming more and more urgent, too desperate to continue the torment.

“need to feel you wrapped around me.” he grumbles, slowing his movements to a stop so he can yank his shirt over his head by the collar.

you’re pulsing from the loss of contact, already breathing heavy as you watch him slip out of his pants, taking his boxers with them. his dick springs free, and your mouth goes dry at the revelation.

he’s big, thick enough that you know you’re going to have to adjust. chris pumps himself in his hand a few times before running his shaft up and down your core, using your wetness as lube.

the feeling of his length sliding across your clit is almost unbearable, and by the way he’s panting you can tell he likes it just as much.

“no more teasing, i can’t.” you plead.

that’s enough to convince chris that he’s had his fun, so he fumbles with the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a condom and tearing open the packet with his teeth.

he rolls the silicone over his dick before standing to line himself up at your entrance, taking a second to look down at you. your eyes are wide and your lips are puffy, and you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

then he pushes himself inside, extra careful to take it slow at first. you both mumble curses under your breath, because the way he’s stretching you out is amazing and the feeling of your tight pussy gripping his sensitive cock is euphoric.

chris lets you adjust to his size for a minute before he begins to rock his hips back and forth, driving himself into you as he builds momentum. you clench around him with every stroke, and it’s making him feel fucking insane.

“taking me so well, baby, so fucking well.” he praises gruffly.

you reach up, tugging his chain lightly to indicate that you want him closer. chris leans down so his body is flush against yours as he shifts in and out, your fingers raking his back.

he presses a hard kiss to your mouth, one hand squeezing around your throat lightly. he prays to god he’s scratched up by the end of this, because he needs a physical reminder that this is real, that he’s not dreaming.

“harder, chris.” you whimper against him, wrapping your legs around his waist so you can force him to plunge deeper inside of you.

the switch in angle also means he’s hitting a brand new spot, and you feel your stomach tighten at the sensation. your eyes screw shut as you let out a lewd moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

chris is using all of his strength to slam into you now, growing closer and closer to his high. he won’t be able to hang on much longer, especially when you’re beneath him with your eyes rolled back into your head, lips parted like you’re begging for more.

“i love the way you look when i'm inside you, holy shit.” he’s practically breathless as he says it, his skin slapping against yours.

his name falls repeatedly from your lips like a prayer, because it’s the only word you can even think of at this point. your foreheads are pressed together, and he slides his hand down so he can brush his fingers against your clit.

it’s so much stimulation that tears begin to prick your eyes, something that’s never happened to you before. nobody’s ever made you feel this good.

“fuck!—m’so close, don’t stop.” you cry out, and your whole body is convulsing now.

you feel chris twitch inside of you, an indication that he’s on the exact same path. he moves his fingers against you faster, though his strokes grow sloppier and more desperate by the second.

“come on, princess. let it all go.”

and for once in your life you listen to him without any push back, releasing all over his dick as he simultaneously finishes into the condom.

chris slows his movements to a stop, overstimulated and fucked out as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. he presses a few wet kisses to your skin as you regain your breath, enjoying the last few seconds of closeness before he pulls out.

he flops down beside you, both of you lying on your backs and staring up at the ceiling, chests heaving as you calm down. everything has changed in just the last four hours, and neither of you are quite sure what to say.

so you don’t say anything at all. he just discards the rubber and wraps you up in his sheets with a loopy smile, pulling you so your back is against his chest.

you can feel him breathing, feel the heat radiating from his body, and you decide that logical thinking will have to wait until tomorrow. tonight, you’ll stay in his arms.