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dabisbratz · 1 year ago

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𝒮𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒯 𝒯𝒪𝒪𝒯𝐻 — shouta aizawa x male reader

w.c: 12.4k

warning: dbf!shouta, age gap, (sho in his early 40s, reader is 23), bottom!reader, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, feminization, mentions of gettin ‘knocked up’ regardless of anatomy, sneaking around, creampie, unprotected sex ( wear condoms ! ), praise/degradation, brat!reader, jealousy, mutual teasing, reader has an oral fixation, improper use of lollipops, mentions of exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming untouched/hands free orgasm, ‘ taboo ’

sonny says..: not proof read, msorry !! did lotsa jumpin around while writin this. . . n five months later !! she’s all done !! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝T ˘ T⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ ♡ m’a lil rusty, forgive me !!

You’re back home for the summer.

Well— not entirely. You’re back at your family’s summer house for the season. Gifted from your grandparents, it teeters at the beginning of a beach, crystal sands and clear, blue waters that stretch out into the horizon. You’ve been looking forward to it since you’d graduated, even if it did come with a set of overbearing parents and a sinful amount of sunscreen.

The air is hot and thick, sticking uncomfortably to your skin through the windshield as you watch an everlasting stretch of greenery and trees pass you by. The road has stretched on for miles, every upcoming exit and street sign blending into one as each hour passes by. You’ve got the company of staticky radio stations and news outlets, spewing something nonsensical about sports, politics, car insurance. . . But it’s the trip you enjoy more than the destination. Traffic and all, you prefer it over the muggy air and parental scolding. Though, the beach is nice. . .

“You’re sure you’re taking the right route?” It’s your mother speaking, her voice crackling through the speakers of your car. You’re sure she’d smack you upside the head for the aggressive roll of your eyes in her. . . general direction, but she’s not exactly within eye-contact distance. Not for another five minutes, anyway.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” You have— it’s true. Though you’re only twenty-two, you’d driven this distance since you’d left for college. There’s a sound akin to the sucking of teeth through the radio, and you have half the mind to turn around and restart your road-trip all over again.

“Why’s there so much attitude in your voice?” Her cheerful, smiley voice suddenly sounds much more shrill, to your chagrin. You thrum your fingers along the leather of the steering wheel, biting back a long, drawn out groan.

“There isn’t any,” Gravel crackles under the weight of your rubber-tire car, snapping and popping into the air as it makes a smooth halt into the driveway. Shifting gears to park, the radio switches off with the twist of your keys. And, perhaps with more force than necessary, you’re slamming the door to your car and face to face with your mother. Her phone is still in hand, eyebrows pinched at the thought of her very own son hanging up on her. “. . . attitude, Ma.”

She hugs you with a squeal, ushering you up the stairs to your childhood ‘home.’ It’s almost exactly like you’d left it— save for a few recent porch decorations and repainted walls. You hope the years have been kind to it, with the irregular weather and constant pipe problems. Floorboards creak under your weight, welcoming you home after a few long years of studies. There’s an everlasting stream of bubbly speech behind you, your mom speaking, but there’s already so much to take in.

The air is fresh and salty, hints of beachy winds flowing upstream through the doorway. It smells like home, and looks like it too, as you situate your small duffel bag by the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Your room. You hadn’t packed much— there was still a dresser overflowing with old clothes in your bedroom, after all. And now that you think about it, you should probably change into something more fitting for the weather.

“I know you just got here,” The sound of ice swirling against glass catches your attention, and you turn to face your mother. “But could you bring these out to your father?” She’s holding a tray of decorative glasses— or at least, you’d always thought they were— full of oblong ice and freshly squeezed lemonade. The glasses are stocky enough to adorn lollipops— one each, which are probably sickeningly sour. Topped with tiny, colorful umbrellas and intricate swirling straws. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone, with the way she’s put so much effort into the drink’s presentation.

Your lips curl to form a playful ‘no’, a boyish smile pulling at your cheeks when she huffs— as if she already knows what you’re about to do. So you shake your head instead, stealing the tray with one hand, “Let me change first.”

In hindsight, wearing clothes about. . four years too small wasn’t a great idea. The shorts that once fit you perfectly— before your growth spurt— are now much too short, like they’ve been tossed around in the laundry one too many times. You feel almost naked, moving the pink hem down with the shake of your legs.

Your mother insists they look just fine, a dramatic downturn to her lips as she rambles on and on about how fast her boy has grown up. Still, as you walk through the sliding glass doors parallel to the open patio, the sunlight bathing your legs does nothing but make you feel stuck under a rapidly growing spotlight.

It all clicks as you walk outside— the detailed drinks, the smell of barbecue and fresh coal. There is someone she’s trying to impress, someone other than your father. Maybe both of them. On a good day.

Wiping the bead of sweat from your brow, your eyes squint at the man in front of you. Around your dad’s age— maybe slightly younger, he stands at a whopping six foot something. There’s age in his face, and worry between his brows as if he’d spent most of his youth grimacing. His hair is long and black like charcoal, save for a few streaks of gray and a salt and pepper ensemble of stubble littering his chin and jaw. Two scars— forming a cross of sorts, one beneath his right eye, horizontal and thin. But the other is much longer, starting below his brow and ending at his cheekbone. It draws your eyes to a milky gray iris— heavily contrasting against the natural black-brown of his left one. It’s pretty, cloudy and almost pearlescent.

His silhouette— tall and thick, with broad shoulders that travel on and on as he crosses thick biceps over his thick chest. He’s standing in the way of the sun, and yet, it peeks through his long hair in small, short leaks. And, surprisingly, his waist is small in his black tank top. If you feel hot he must be scorching, draped in black— down to the beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. His hands— they’re big, maybe enough to cover the entirety of your face, curled into loose fists at his biceps.

And— right, you’re here to help, not gawk. But you can’t help it, shifting your weight from one leg to another as his intimidating gaze slowly sweeps you over. He’s like sex on legs, and if you can squint enough to get the sun out your eyes, you swear you can see the imprint of his cock through his black shorts.

“Uh,” You blink dumbly after introducing yourself, and suddenly the tray you’re holding is weightless. “Ma made these. I’m supposed to help. . . or something. . .”

“Or something.” The man echoes, but it’s quiet and you barely catch it. His voice is deep, way deeper than your own, rumbling in your ears and smooth like butter. Almost husky, with a dark edge to it as flames roar in his face. But it makes your father laugh, hearty and jubilant as he bounces over to where you stand. He gives you a small pat on the back as a greeting, ushering out a small, “son.”

The heat emitting off the grill is enough to make a grown man cry, but neither of you wince when you walk by it. Cold glasses of lemonade are handed out, fingers imprinted on cold condensation painting the surfaces of each glass as they’re passed around— one for you, one for your dad, another for him. You watch rivulets of water drip from his fingertips, down his wrist, past the collection of veins adorning his forearm.

“Mr. Aizawa,” There’s a beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled once you’ve been introduced. “World’s cruelest teacher.”

“Shouta Aizawa.” Is all he says, a correction of sorts, voice grumbly as his fingertips brush against your knuckles. Your eyes flicker down to where he’d touched you, his skin warm and inviting despite the roughness of his palms. You see now, that he’s accompanying your father, occasionally taking over when he walks back into the house every. . . five minutes or so.

“An old friend of mine, we go way back.” Your parents have an odd habit of rambling, it seems, because you and the handsome stranger make exasperated eye contact as your dad begins to reminisce on old memories. “You met him a few times— remember? He’ll be staying with us, so be respectful, you hear me?” His gaze seems to dip for a moment, down your lips and straight to the extra exposed skin of your thighs, then settle back to the ocean before you can comment.

But those five minutes must start now, because after a firm squeeze to your shoulder your father heads inside, leaving you alone with his. . . friend. He’s awfully quiet, busying himself as the patio door slides shut— occasionally sighing as he wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s obvious you’re staring, maybe a bit too hard, but he’s the best scene around, really. Even with the beach right behind him.

And maybe it’s wrong to think this way— but he’s hot. Old enough to be your dad and then some, sure, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. He almost makes you nervous, the slow blink of his eyes as he pays you no mind.

“So you’re staying with us, huh?” You eye the juicy meat he’s been flipping for the last five minutes, golden brown and sizzling in the heat. It’s rather thick, soon to be lazily flattened by the tongs he's holding and— you can’t help but wonder. . . Is he good with his hands?

“Don’t make a habit of asking strange old men questions like that.” It’s not entirely clear if he’s serious or not, but he’s certainly assertive. Like a firm, guiding hand placed at the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but before you can ask what he means, it clicks. You’d said it out loud, let it float into the air like an everyday, casual question. But Aizawa doesn’t seem exactly bothered, more passive (if anything), as he takes a swig of the fruity, sour concoction.

“You’re not strange.” Is what you conclude, slamming the tray down hard enough to rattle its contents, and the man notes your lack of regard. Even with a slight spill you don’t bother to clean, you’re already turning to walk off the patio and dig your toes into the hot sand before it can be mentioned— but not without plucking a lemon coated lollipop free from its icy enclosure of glass. There’s an arrangement of seashells hidden beneath the coarse mounds of the glimmering seaside. Different sizes and colors, different textures and shapes. Where some would scrape the soles of your feet, others would glide across them. But as a kid you’d liked the search for tiny crabs much more than the search for shells. Though you’re much older now, you’re not afraid to say you miss it.

“But I’m old?” Aizawa says, not too far behind you from where he stands. There’s a light glint of dry humor in his voice that sends butterflies down your throat and straight into your stomach.

“Yeah. Old enough.” Your small laughter is sweet, dancing in the air in a way that has Shouta nearly pressing his palm flat into the skillet— just to check if his heart is still beating. What do you mean by that, anyway?

There’s a divot where the tightness of your shorts dip into your skin, pressing against the plush skin of your ass whenever you bend over. Even as you’re upright, Shouta can’t stand to look for too long— you’re a real, proper, honest and genuine distraction. Yet here he is, watching you move around on your hands and knees, ass taut and round— shorts tight enough to show off the cute bulge of your balls from behind. And now that he’s really looking, it’s obvious you’re not wearing anything underneath.

He shakes his head, grunting to himself as he peels processed cheese free from its plastic packaging. You just met, that’s not right, you’re simply just minding your own.

“Ugh!” You share a groan, and for completely different reasons. Aizawa can’t help but watch you scramble in the sand, presumably after whatever sea-creature that had the pleasure to pinch you right on the finger. But you seem happy once it’s retrieved, stuck in the seclusion of its tiny shell as you hold it in your palm. From what he can see, you’re not much of a brat at all. Maybe your parents are just too hard on you. He’s always known them to be dramatics.

Still, he has half the mind to drag you over by your ankle, or maybe to press your handsome face into the sand while he fucks you from behind. Ever since you’d brought out that damned lemonade— tugging on the hem of the fabric as if you’d suddenly grown conscious of just how short they were— he’d been hard. And now he has to listen to you grunt and groan over the smallest of injuries. . . His best friend’s son, his presumed pride and joy.

He’s fucked.

From where he stands, slightly elevated, he can see the bulge of the sweet protruding from your cheeks, stuck afore your teeth. Cute, as it swishes from side to side, stuck in your mouth as your occupied fingers caress the diaphanous shell in the palm of your hand. Your lips move, puckered, around the sucker, curled and glossy with molten sugar— it’s hard to make out exactly what words your mouth forms, yet Shouta doesn’t think he’d be able to listen anyway.

Turns out the creature was a hermit crab.

Shouta learns this at dinner, the day’s hard work shared on plastic platters and glass

bottles in the middle of the beach. There’s a roaring flame between the four of you, it casts golden embers along your skin every so often, crackling into the air. Cicadas chirp with the night’s welcome, loud and joyful in retaliation to the silent, serene fireflies and settling ocean.

You’re all sipping on beers, some more than others, but it’s enough to loosen everyone up. Even Shouta, whose eyes look lidded with sleep the more he drinks. He’s not incoherent, he never is. If anything he’s observant. For one, you have an awful habit of holding onto this evening’s lollipop, it seems, as you have it situated between your fingers like a cigarette. Sometimes your grip around it tightens, like when your mother wraps her hand around his bicep, squeezing the flesh in small, sporadic rounds. And though neither of you want to say it, let alone think it— you’re jealous. That’s the second thing.

Even with Shouta’s knee brushing against your own, you can’t help it. He’s so warm, muscly legs pressed against your own in a manner that’s almost electrifying. You want it all to yourself, to suffocate in his heat and capable hands.

You zone out of the conversation, blinking at the fire with reserved eyes until a thick screwer pokes at the flesh of your shoulder, leaving behind a tiny dimple. Jet black hair invades your vision for a moment, smelling of faint seasalt and warm cologne, until you turn, “What?”

“You want chocolate on your marshmallow, right?” Your mother asks for him, squeezing a transparent bag of thick, soft marshmallows. It’s tossed to you in a flash, to which you catch, but not before stealing a glance at the man beside you. His jaw sets, poking out from the mass of stubble. Like she’d stolen a precious moment away.

“Right,” You mumble, stabbing the skewer through the excessive amount of sugar. The stick hovers above the fire, the sweet melting to a crisp, flaky brown. Sticky and gooey, it slowly begins to lose its form. Through all the conversation you can’t help but glance at the older man to your left, taking in the glow of yellow and orange caressing his tan skin. His silhouette is bold and broad, legs spread wide as he sits on a thick log. What was once brown turns a deep, dark charcoal. “Oh, shit! Fuck. I meant shoot, sorry.”

You’re not supposed to swear in front of your parents— Aizawa’s paternal intuition picks that up. But shoving the marshmallow into your mouth, even as it has yet to cool down, he doesn’t quite get. Either way, your expression. . . it’s sickeningly cute. It’s cute to watch you fumble. With lips pursed into a tight line, cheeks bitten and eyebrows pinched with apology despite how obviously uncomfortable you are with the piping, burnt sugar spreading along your tongue.

His heart could almost burst.

“You’re fine, kid.” Shouta’s voice is a gentle whisper, airy like the waves brushing against the shore. With his eyes caught on the sticky white lingering on your cheek, he's desperately aware you’re not a kid. The way you move and speak, the way you carry yourself. The way you suck on lollipops like they’re something else. He’s never been one for dirty jokes or subtle innuendos but. . . yeah, this is doing something to him. His fingers twitch with want, the desire to wipe it away and rub his thumb along your lips. He should really get it together.

And maybe the fact that he’s more worried about your parents being in the way than the fact that they’re your parents proves that.

But they’re pretty preoccupied, lost in conversation neither of you are exactly interested in. Whirling his own marshmallow, chocolate melts down its fluffy outside. It’s steaming, hot and fluffy after twirling around the fire. Looking at it now, it looks comically small in his large hands, much bigger than your own. His lips part, cool air leaving the ‘o’ shaped mold of his mouth as he blows on it with a low, “Here.”

There they go again, mouth open as your pink tongue covers your row of bottom teeth, Shouta doesn’t let go of the skewer despite the light squeezes you press along his knuckles. Instead he holds on tighter, lifting and reaching until the desert melts in your mouth and sticks to your lips. Messy on purpose, your heart plummets into your tummy when dark eyes watch marshmallow fluff pull away from between your teeth. Hungry, starving.

“I can do it myself.” You mumble, wondering if the heat prickling your skin is from the brush of his fingers against your own or the wilting fire.

“Can you?” His expression is tired and flat, but his voice tilts with blooming amusement. It’s odd, the way you’re so quick to shut him down. You almost respond more openly when you hear sneaky comments or listen to gossip— ‘that boy just doesn’t know what to stop,’ ‘why’s he such a smartass?’ — spoken about you directly by you.

“Yeah,” There’s a shine in your eye that isn’t just a product of the glowing fire. Mischievous, almost. “I don’t break that easily.”

Shouta could definitely take your dad in a fight. It’s the first thing that pops into mind as the two of you stand in the dark, dimly lit kitchen. Your parents had gone off to bed almost an hour ago, and with the clock approaching half past midnight, it leaves you two alone. So, yes, he’s considering who would win in a brawl because he can’t stop staring at his best friend’s son and his pretty, kissable lips.

They’re sheen with spit, your pink tongue licking them over as you scrub away yesterday’s dirt from the kitchen counter. It’s a noncommittal motion, your arms wiping suds and heavy contents of water along the granite surface. Yet you seem absolutely dead-set on getting that one stain. The stain that has your ass brushing against his side, bare skin rippling the harder, lazier, you scrub. Not that there’s even a stain to clean.

Yep. He’s fucked.

You suppose he should be focusing on the dishes— not that there’s much of those either— but his attention strays.

It carries him through the motion of leaning over, his body practically draping your own as you bend at the waist. Black hair again, wisps of it, lightly pressed against your back as he leans down, lips by the shell of your ear and an arm trapping you in. His cock is pressed right against the swell of your ass, and he may have to consider slipping it between his waistband.

“I think you got it.”

“Oh, really?” Your hips are moving again, side to side as you scrub shapes into nothing. “Double check for me?”

A low groan sounds behind you, big hands at your thighs that squeeze enough to have the plush skin bruised and tender in the morning. His hand travels, snaking up your thighs to meet the silky skin of your ass. Spread nicely with the way you’re bent over, warmth radiating off each globe as his thick pointer finger loops around the thin layer of pink cotton pressing against your balls.

It’d be so easy, perfect access to slip his thick cock into the warm, tight walls of your hole and pound you against the counter. You could sit on his dick for the whole day, drooling and dumb the more the head kisses your prostate again and again and again. Your Daddy could fuck you on your dad’s favorite sofa, make it squeal and whine under the weight of him filling your fucked-out and used cunt over and over.

Dark pupils blow wide as he pulls the fabric away, watching your hole flutter around nothing. He coos, sweet and deep. Just give him a minute, he’ll give you everything you need. Everything and more, until you’re a braindead fucktoy with glassy eyes and sticky, dripping holes. Until—

You’ve slipped past his arm, twisting as your growling stomach makes itself known. You inhale a quivering breath through your nose, eyes wide and expecting and waiting. His best friend’s son, wriggling and writhing under his palms, handsome face twisting as pearly teeth bite at your stout bottom lip.

He’s almost frustrated with himself, voice flat and distant when you puff out your cheeks. Forget a distraction— you’re a real, honest brat. “You’re still hungry.”

“I’m a growing man, Sho.” It’s almost consequential how your voice cracks, breathy and teetering the edge of a whine as he releases his grip on your body. Light from the fridge illuminates your silhouette in a yellow, halo-adjacent glow, and once again Shouta is staring a little too hard at his best friend’s son as he bends forward at the waist.

Aizawa weighs the juxtaposition between the middle of that sentence for a moment before his breath catches in your throat. Sho. You’d called him by a nickname, ten times sweeter than the candied fruit (grapes, are they?) you’re now sinking your teeth into. You’ve grown alright, and the proof stands hard, throbbing, and pressing against your shorts once you’ve returned to face him. It’s obvious your ploy with the fruit was just something to keep your mind off cumming in your cute, soft shorts— but he’d honestly have preferred to see that.

“I can see that.”

Rough palms press into your jaw— firm, but not aggressive, until fingers close and clasp at your cheeks. A dissolving layer of baby fat at your cheeks spills between his stern fingers, and you blink as the older man turns your face from left to right, then reverse. Seems he’s got a nasty habit of looking you over, breaking you down— bare bones. You still have enough room to chew, teeth grinding on the crystallized sugar with a hard and resounding crunch.

There’s always something in your mouth.

Dark eyes flicker to the lump appearing and disappearing in your throat as you swallow, sweet sugar dotting your lips, “You’re hard.”

“Yeah,” It earns a dark chuckle, though there’s not much light humor in it, “So are you.” His lips curl as he releases his grip, slow and lingering.

“Usually,” your gaze drops to his lips. “When two men,” Then up to his deep, dark eyes as you press against him, chest to chest. His cock twitches against the heat of your body, you can imagine it now— thick and pretty, curved upward with a sticky head and throbbing, heavy veins. “Make eachother. . . hard, they—”

A door slams upstairs, the air going still as your breath catches in your throat. As if that single disturbance has stolen all the oxygen in the world, your body goes rigid and stiff, and the sound of tired steps make their way descending down wooden stairs. The candied grapes are swapped for thick fingers, with light peppers of hair at the knuckles, and you can’t help but suck the seasalt right off.

“Behave.” He takes a single step back, dripping with indubitable authority that makes you feel light and airy. Ready to bend at his will with lazy eyelids and hazy eyes. It’s not a question, not a suggestion— it’s a demand.

“You’re still up,” Your father, shameless as he walks by the two of you with barely any coverings, makes a sleepy gesture in your general direction as he opens the fridge. “Both of you, huh?” He sounds faintly out of breath, and his skin sheen. The mental implications make you cringe, taking a step toward the characteristically nonchalant man who’d just stepped away from you.

Shouta’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t tell me I’m being replaced!” He’s always been a loud man, your father, but it seems tonight his one-too-many beers have finally caught up to him. It’s just a joke, the both of you know it, but you can’t help the prickle of heat poking at your throat. You’re pulled in by the back of your head, your father’s hand pressed against your hair as he holds you in a firm side-hug, “Rather Mr. Aizawa be your old man?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Your smile is wide and tantalizing, heavy and dripping with something that has yet to be named. “Are you a good Daddy, Mr. Aizawa?”

Then, his eye twitches, “When I want to be.”

Your laugh is instantaneous and loud, an awkward thing that stretches into deep silence. There’s a lot of things you’d like Mr. Aizawa to be— rough, gentle, sweet, and mean. But your dad? It’s laughable, and couldn’t be farther from the truth. And sure, maybe the title you'd like to use on him sounds similar, but they’re most definitely not the same. If only he knew.

“I’m sure you’re the best,” He watches you smile, opposite ends of your mouth pulling at your cheeks in a motion that doesn’t quite meet your eyes— but it’s convincing enough. “Better than your other friends, right Dad?”

Shouta is avoiding you.

You know it, you can tell! He’s always gone nowadays— a couple weeks into your vacation and you can only count a mere handful of the times you remember seeing him. You’ve barely talked, barely stole a few glances here and there— he may as well have disappeared. He’s out somewhere, somewhere that involves your father, and the ocean, and his generously sized deck-boat. You don’t want to say it, but you know you’re the reason why. You’ve gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the flirting. Ever since that night— even before then, it’d become a natural habit of yours to call the man Daddy.

And, now, he’s grown even closer to your parents because of it. Whenever you come down for breakfast they’ve already finished, leaving your plate in the microwave— as if you’d want cold, limp eggs and soggy, get charred bacon. You want to scream, really. There’s your mother, who leaves lingering touches and bats her eyelashes like some sort of schoolgirl. You feel almost evil for the rage that sears your blood— even more so when your first thought is she’s pushing fifty.

Then there’s your father. Who is and always will be, not if you can help it, closer to Shouta than you ever will be. They drink together a lot, the guest more in moderation, but it still hurts to see them laugh about old times— over, and over, and over again. Even when you’re the topic of conversation, despite your presence being completely ignored, it hurts. You’re right here.

So you mope, lounging around in your swim trunks. Your skin sticks to every surface, humid and thick as your mother complains to you about getting some sun, stepping out the house, then something about how you need to fix the look on your face. She says the warm rays on your skin will do you some good, the salty water of the sea against your body will toughen up your bones and loosen your muscles. But there’s really only one thing on your mind.

It trickles into about an hour and a half when Mr. Aizawa finally comes back. Your father too, you suppose, with flushed cheeks that only sake can replicate. It’s once you’ve been pulled outside and forced to stand in wet, thick sand that washes away from your feet with every sweep of the shore— that they return. Once the sun has begun to set, yet still bright enough to have your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, they return.

“There’s my boy!” No one’s boy, actually. Your father shouts with an intoxicated wave, and the grimace on Shouta’s face is hidden behind his whipping hair as he slows the boat to a stop.

Or at least, you think so. It’s hard to see with the sun in your eyes, yellow and orange flakes of the gold star percolating your vision.

It dances along the surface of the ocean, pretty and shimmering the closer you step, the further you go, until you’re submerged in water from your knees—down. There’s a shout, something akin to a ‘catch!’, and you have barely any time to react to the ball that’s flying to you with an oddly precise amount of speed and velocity. You gasp, whipping your head back to catch the ball between two sea-soaked hands.

“What the hell?!” Your hands sting, pretty eyes blinking back at the two silhouettes in your vicinity. Mainly at Aizawa, who hasn’t even acknowledged you, let alone looked away from the resplendent horizon. And what’s so good about that? Of all things to look at— you’re right here! You don’t leave with the setting sun, nor do you only ever arrive with the rising one. You’re a constant, and you know you don’t hurt to look at.

So you throw the ball back, all your force behind it with a smug look on your face until it smacks Shouta in the leg— right in the center of his calf with a horrifying thump of a sound.

“Fuck,” You shout in horror, despite it all. Despite the desire to maul him the last few weeks, rushing forward into the water with the cutest tremor to your brows. “Fuck, okay, shit, my bad!”

And it seems you can’t move fast enough to wade through the rippling waves, where schools of tiny, nipping fish and textured shells had twirled and danced about through the currents of pellucid water. But Shouta seems just fine, almost as if he’d forgotten how to react to the feeling of getting punted with a ball at full force. He picks it up, waves it in his large palm, and throws it back. You can hear it tear through the air, just as it smacks you in the shoulder with so much force you don’t register it at first.

Numbness spreads along your arm, eyes blinking up at the older man who laughs. It’s quiet yet hearty, and not at all a pretty sound. It’s more contagious if anything, a wheeze of sorts, but your lips still curl into a petty frown regardless. You can make out a huff of “Your face!” broken up with laughter, biting back on his tongue.

“I’m not laughing.” You grumble, rubbing at your shoulder with faux diligence.

There’s an eerie smile on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine as water drapes your face and drips down your body— boat engine revving with ferocity as the men float off into the boarding dock— Aizawa’s presence arrives just as fast as it leaves.

You’re left to your devices, gawking as you process the last few minutes— his smile, your brattiness and stupidity, the way you’d only just noticed his prosthetic leg— at the mention you can feel miscellaneous fish brush against your own, scales shining through the transparent waters. You can’t help but smile too, wiping it away with the back of your water-draped forearm. Fuck.

It’s only been a month and you’re smitten. He’d left you in favor of your father again, and all you can do is giggle about it.

There’s not much you know about the man— now that you think about it. There’s been a brief drunken mention of him having kids of his own, a little girl, you think. Maybe a son? Despite his affliction for quiet, Aizawa looks as though there’s more he wants to say. To share, to tell. Your father must know it all, seeing as they grew up together, and part of you can’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Hmph.

“What’re you sulking for?” His voice has broken you out of a daydream, turning your body to look him in the eyes. The man of the hour— Shouta. You almost hate how quick you are to melt under his gaze, squaring your shoulders with the stability of poorly glued popsicle sticks.“That ball bounce off your head, too?”

“I’m not sulking.” You watch him walk around the perimeter of the shore, slow and calculating, with his hands balled up in the fabric of his black t-shirt. He pulls it overhead, tummy contracting and biceps rippling— it still manages to catch you by surprise, how much muscle he’s hiding under his baggy clothes. Your brain sets off a symphony of ooh’s and ahh’s, unable to tear your gaze from the light rise and fall of his chest.

Your eyes trail back up, past the bend of his collarbones, up the display of stubble on his throat— he’s staring right at you.

“Uh — I wasn’t. . anyway. . What’re you looking at?”

His lips twitch, briefly pressed together before relaxing as he steps into the cold water. He’s slow, hair rippling just as smooth as the ocean, the further he moves forward. And, despite that, he slowly curls a finger to and fro, as if he’s talking to a small kitten. “C’mere.”

You’re frowning when you trudge forward, hesitance in your step. “Mr. Aizawa,” you grumble, still something of a cute little sound, using the prefix your father introduced him with. Something about it makes Shouta’s frame stiffen— the title, or maybe the pettiness behind it. It’s not like you call him that when you’re in a particularly good mood. “You didn’t seem to want me around earlier.”

“Quiet,” He tuts, clicking his tongue as if he knows the game you’re playing. But despite the curt, clean-cut execution of his tone, his thumb finds your cheek with the same gentleness as a spring breeze. “Your parents were always around earlier.”

Oh.

You play off your surprise well enough, swatting his hand away with a deep grunt. Sure, it feels good. His hands on your skin— such rough palms that cover your body — but you’re not desperate. Not entirely, not even when he fixes the twist of your face with a quick look to your furrowed brows. You settle for a sigh, grumbling, “They don’t have shit to do with me.”

“You’re, what, twenty-five—“

“Twenty three.” You interject, almost proud you can correct him. Rivulets of water trail down your arms, and his gaze seems to follow its motion.

“Twenty three,” He echoes with something of a breathless sigh tilting his voice. For a moment you think it’s the interruption— he’ll work on it later. Maybe he’s been struck by just how much younger you really are. “They have everything to do with you. You’re still their kid, I doubt they’d be enthusiastic about leaving you alone with an older man. A stranger, at that.”

“But they did,” You look around, as if to prove your point. Shouta’s never been one for dramatics, let alone those fueled by snappy attitudes and rolling eyes, but it looks cute on you. Maybe even cuter if it were accompanied by tears. “They left us alone. . . Half naked. . . At a beach. . . Alone..”

“I get it. We’re alone,” Shouta’s voice has always been so deep, rumbly and tired and smooth in your ears but even more so when he’s irritated. “Drop the attitude.” It’s different in a way. Leaves no room for argument, though you still feel the overwhelming need to stomp your foot and keep on pressing. You can’t help the shudder, nor the goosebumps crawling up your thighs. It’s just so fun to push his buttons, to watch his passive face twist for a split second as he processes your words.

It’s not exactly hard when he allows it. Shouta lets you push until your heart’s content, only reprimanding you with a glance or cleared throat— and it’s almost eerie. You can’t help but feel

like you should be anticipating something, even as you stand flush against his thick body in lukewarm ocean water and he looks at you with contentment.

Then it occurs to you. . . He’s letting it build up.

“And you’re not a stranger, Mr. Aizawa.” Obviously you’re softening the blows, so he watches you step forward, arms crossed over his thick, plush chest. You’re just so cute, brushing past his overwhelming seriousness with a smile— albeit sly. He can’t stay mad forever. It’s not fair, how cute you are, with lips stretched out and teeth on display, with the apples of your cheeks rising, and the cutest little twinkle in your eye. He wants to kiss you. . . He wants to kiss you so bad it’s starting to hurt.

Especially when you lean forward, sunlight bouncing off the ocean surface and across your body— painting you in pretty, golden slivers of glow. Across your face, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. It’s been a while since he’s felt his skin against your own. Since he’s run his large, calloused hands along your body.

“What happened to ‘Daddy’?” He asks, absentmindedly.

“What?” You break his trance, looking down at yourself with a hint of something Shouta can’t quite place. Uncertainty, perhaps? Vulnerability, maybe. It’s odd, you usually prance around so confidently. You wear the tiniest— tightest— clothes known to man, have the smartest mouth, egg him on day in and day out.

That’s not it. You look smug. You’re playing him for a damn fool.

“Nothing.” Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s wrong— it’s cliché, maybe even taboo. He wants to wipe that look off your face. He wants to kiss his best friend’s son stupid. The man he’d just shared parenting advice to, the man he’d spent years upon years of highschool, college, divorces, with. It’d been so innocent when he’d visit— maybe he should’ve never stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back to see you in full bloom, so handsome and lithe and sweet.

“ ‘Nothing,’ ” You echo, snarky as you mimic the flat, detached tone of Shouta’s voice. If you weren’t sulking before you definitely are now, readying yourself to push past him like some spoiled brat who was just denied their favorite candy after being caught trying to steal it nonetheless. So He holds onto your bicep, squeezing the flesh as it flexes with your feeble attempt at struggling.

“Are you done yet? Or do you need a minute to calm down?” He shifts his weight, voice calm and level as he holds you still despite the straining. Not a single hair on him is out of place, his tranquility almost alarming.

“Let go, old man!” He has to ignore the rush of adrenaline the back and forth gives him— the way he has an incessant urge to squeeze your jaw just a bit tighter.

“Hey,” You watch his lips curl to coo, a tone somewhat akin to a parent shushing a fussy child. Your face is turned to face him directly, “How many times do I have to talk to you?” Then impossibly close as his warm breath pans over the expanse of your face, “What’d I say about the attitude?”

“I don’t care what you say about it.” Your face is squished against his palm as you go to squirm your way out of his hold, but with the way his head angles down toward your face— you can barely get the words to sound convincing. There’s a giggle in your voice, like you think his frustration is amusing.“You like it, don’t you? Forget strange, you’re dirty!”

He’s the only thing keeping you upright, eyes narrowed and lidded, “Stop fuckin’ playing with me, little boy.”

“Dad never lets me drive the boat,” Though the man can sense your whining from miles away, it still manages to catch him off guard. Shouta quirks a brow in questioning, hand hovering a polite foot away from your calf as you stand to walk along the wading boat floor. “Destroyed his last one when I was a kid,” (He doesn’t have to know you were actually nineteen when you did.) You speak in a tone that makes him think just maybe you consider it more your father’s fault than your own. “This one’s nicer anyway.”

“That’s wasteful.” Aizawa bites the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed into a familiar line. Had one of his kids done that it’d be a completely different story. Surely one they wouldn’t be proud of telling either. Through the corner of his eye he watches you dig into the cooler, scrabbling past the beer bottles and iced hennessy, to pull out an ice cream.

“To you,” You spare him a glance before finally plopping down in the passenger’s seat with much more force than necessary— especially when sitting on a boat. “I did him a favor.”

The cooler did a poor job— your ice cream is already melted and soft once it’s unwrapped. Thick, velvety cream that you lap up with your tongue dribbles down your knuckles. He should find it gross, but your pretty eyes flickering upward to meet his own as you take one long, slow lick up each bend of your fingers has done the complete opposite. Fuck. It’s hot— your sticky fingers and messy lips, your pinched brows and tiny, pleased whines.

If only it were his cock.

Shouta’s thick. Much thicker than your ice cream, he’s sure you’d feel a good stretch to your lips if you wrapped them around the head of his cock. You’d probably whine about how hard you have to try, how heavy it is on your tongue— how much it’s stuffing you full when it hasn’t even slid down your throat yet. You’d cry too, maybe, with drool slicking your chin and coating his dick in a pretty, shiny layer of thick saliva.

“Want some?” You lean uncomfortably forward, though your legs are over the arms of your seat and draped across Shouta’s lap. Already close, Shouta can smell the oreo on your tongue and vanilla cream by the corner of your lips. “You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Sit up,” The deflection is an answer in itself, yet the dark-haired man can’t find a reason to look away. “Before you hurt yourself.”

Instead, you take his wrist, thick and decorated with a long vein, to fiddle with his fingers. They’re long— healthy, strong, clipped haphazardly— big. He watches you split his fingers apart, lacing your free hand with his own— and though he remains with all five fingers up, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the urge to close them around your much smaller ones. Shouta clears his throat while you hum, lapping at your ice cream before pressing your lips against his knuckles, “Want you to hurt me instead.”

“Hush,” There’s a sharp intake of breath, dark lashes fluttering as multicolored eyes glance past your shoulder. It’s evident he wants to say more— in the way he shifts his weight to lean outward. “You hardly know me.”

Your foot nudges his upper thigh, pressing into the firm skin as the boat moves further toward the horizon. It feels more secluded that way.. Private, even. As if there’s only the two of you left on the dreamy island. Your face looks a bit exasperated, like you’ve never had to work so hard in your life, and he has to admit it— it’s cute.

“I know you grew up with my dad,” He ignores the venom behind your tongue as you mention your father, letting out a low hum of confirmation. “I know you have two kids— adopted, right?”

“Hitoshi and Eri.” He interjects, voice soft and fond. You’d never noticed it before, but now you’re acutely aware of the gentle presence of breeze and rippling waters. Shouta’s relaxed face is much sweeter, still creased with age but not quite as deep. The cute, pinched dips between his brows are gone, but you know how to bring it back.

“Lucky. Wish you were my Daddy instead,” Aizawa isn’t sure which word he’s more hung up on, nor how it's so easy for you to completely twist his words— but as much as it rushes to his cock, gets him twitching in his pants and throbbing all the way down his heavy shaft— he doesn’t like it. You talk entirely too much. With lips much too sweet and sheen with cream. With a tongue that flicks and presses against your teeth when you smile. With a pretty voice he could listen to, all day. Something that’d sound better through choking and gagging—ragged and crackly and used. Your lashes flutter, soft and gentle against your cheek. “How old is Hitoshi? My age? If he takes after you, then. . .You’re just—“

“Listen to me,” Perhaps it’s not very characteristic of him, but he just can’t stop. Shouta moves without thinking, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “For as long as I’m here,” he offers a squeeze. “For as long as your father is here,” then another, “Turn. It. Off.”

Your face melts into something floaty and distant, the smirk melting right off your face into something much more preferable. His thumb is so close, so close to your pretty lips. You blink once— twice, even— before regressing back into a grin, lips pressing against his long fingers. Fucking brat.

“I’ll just have to hit up Hitoshi sometime, then.”

The persistent comment nearly knocks him over, straight off the boat and plummeting into the cerulean depths of the sea. Instead, Shouta finds it better to step on the gas. . . To ignore the prickling heat in his blood, to ignore the easy taptaptap-ing of your fingers against the screen of your phone. It’s so easy for you to say anything around him— like a deliberate disregard for his reaction. His fingers thrum against the tiller, then wrap around its leather exterior to squeeze, and he doesn’t miss (not even for a second) the glance you give him through the corner of your eye.

The silence is almost painful. The motor speaks for you, loud and rushed and heavy. Aizawa’s jaw sets, clenched at each chiseled edge. His eyebrows furrow deep, angry, and his lips remain tightly shut. You can’t help but stare, watching his hair whip in the wind, dreamy and mellifluous. Not a moment of eye contact is shared, and you feel yourself slinking back into the white leather of your chair for the first time this evening.

Come the wooden dock just adjacent to the shoreline, Shouta’s throwing away wrappers (they’re all yours) and unbuckling his seatbelt. Your arms cross, a pout heavy in your lips as your eyes flutter closed. . Almost as if you being unable to see him makes him unable to see you.

“C’mon, baby.” You both miss the nickname, and despite the tension, it feels so natural dripping from his tongue.

Still, you whine. Mind occupied by your nearly offset tantrum prior to getting back at the dock. “I’m staying outside.”

“You’ll get heatstroke.” Shouta sighs, stepping back to lift you into his arms not even a moment later. You consider it ironic, for a moment, he always wears black despite the scorching heat. Bent at the waist as he leans over the open inside of the boat to unbuckle your seatbelt, his face remains stoic as your arms flail and fly to push him away. Your pretty face morphs into a nasty scowl, grumbles and mumbles toppling from your lips— you’re embarrassed.

He sets you down on the creaking wood, hands placed steady at your waist and shoulder to keep you upright— in your feeble attempt at escapism, your last result was simply going limp.

You just won’t budge, standing planted at the end of the dock despite the tugs to your biceps, forearm— hands, wrists. Your last attempt at pushing him away ends up in stumbles, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stomp down the polished dock, eyes hardening with the contact of deep, dark pools in Aizawa’s irises.

You were holding hands.

It’s been days. You haven’t left your room in days. At first, Shouta doesn’t worry. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t question why you don’t come downstairs. When he asks your parents about it it’s always the same thing— ‘That’s just how he is when he doesn’t get his way,’ or ‘He’ll come around.’ The more he asks, the mode suspicion, More questions, mostly wondering why he’s so enamored by their son— even if he had been closer to you when you were younger. But that was long ago, and you hardly remember.

And that isn’t even it.

He starts to worry, to feel bad, on day six. Not a single sound that even points to your presence. No creaking floorboards, no music playing from your old, antique and overpriced record player, no sounds of muffled laughter. It makes him feel out of his skin, like a bystander watching the inhabitants of this very beach house go about their day like nothing is wrong. But this wrong, so very wrong—

He wants you. His boy, his brat, his best friend’s son. It’s wrong and it’s taboo, but so help him, he yearns.

His feet had carried himself upstairs before his mind could, following after you a good half-hour later. You heard him on his way in, the shuffle of his slipper-clad feet from the outside of your door. Still, you’d made no effort to move, no effort to free yourself from the cocoon of your childhood blankets, no effort to open the door despite his gentle knocking.

“You ready to talk yet?” He was willing to brush it all aside. The pushing, the persistent flirting, the slight disregard for his feelings, the mentions of his son. Really, he was jealous. Maybe it’s unsavory for him to admit, maybe he shouldn’t think of his son as competition. And he knows, of course, there’s nothing there— he’s only ever competing with himself. He just can’t help it.

Maybe he’s a bit spoiled too.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Your voice was small, but he could still hear it through the door. He heard it all, every implication. His sweet boy, his spoiled brat. You froze, just briefly, before he let himself in. The door creaked slowly with its open and close, a gentle click of the lock as the air grew thick.

Your old bed is small and creaky. Almost as much as the underused floorboards, your old bedroom screams with just as much personality as it does neglect. There’s tiny figurines, posters, awards, memorabilia— but it’s all too clean. Even if it has collected dust, not a thing is out of place. Pristine. There’s a few scattered photos— awkward haircuts, familial pets, the works. . Unapologetically you, maybe when you were just a tad bit more naive— but you nonetheless. It even smells like you, just with a hint of sea salt and warm, summer-y vanilla. Shouta wants to bury his nose in it.

“None of my fancy college boyfriends liked it here, Maybe ‘Toshi would.” You shift your weight as Shouta sits at the edge of your bed, the springy mattress creaking ever so slightly. There’s something left unsaid between the small string of words— and it’s sour. Twists on Shouta’s tongue, like he’s bitten into old bread, and it’s not just the mention of past boyfriends. Sure, that’s not exactly what he’d call this. . . relationship, but it’s not like it’d feel wrong. And he’d certainly feel bitter if his son were in his shoes. “Guess my sheets weren’t silky enough. Can tell you what was, th—”

“I like it.” It’s simple. The admission— simple and sweet, like it’s obvious. Shouta watches your lips part for a moment, just to close again, like a fish out of water. You look so small when you’re caught off guard, glancing to the side and shifting your weight onto your palms as you sit in the comfy middle of your bed. He knows what you’re doing— redirecting the conversation by flirting (it does get his heart beating, he’ll admit it)— and it makes you seem softer, almost.

He watches you sniffle for a moment, a quiet sound as you shift your knees with exuberating coyness. Your eyebrows furrow, cheeks puffed into a pout because, “That's it? You just ‘ like ’ it?”

He’ll give it to you, you never give up. He’d been warned, he was skeptical, and he’s been proven wrong. And, in the brunette’s head, you’d tallied over three strikes. Perhaps he was being too lenient. And now, Shouta, the weak man that he is, simply wants to indulge.

“What else would I say?”

“That it’s nice,” You cock your head to the side. “That you’ve never seen a room so nice. Which m’sure is true, anyway. . Are you low income, Sho? I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single father of two— or one, since Hitoshi moved out forever ago.”

The older man takes a breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pretty irises flicker down to meet the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, like the tidal wave of emotion has washed away back into shore, his voice is level as he speaks, “You spoke to him.”

“You ignored me,” You say it as if it’s obvious, simple, that if you can’t have Shouta you’ll have to settle for the next best thing. And though it’s not entirely true, you only really stalked his social media to learn more about his father, you don’t think your heart can stomach seeing pride swell in Aizawa’s chest. “Wanted your attention, Daddy.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, cold air rattling the bones as he watches you stare up at him. Your eyes look softer, boyish, wider at this angle. His pink tongue darts over his equally pink lips, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

“Shh, sh, sh,” Shouta’s cock slips down your throat with a low grunt, the slippery walls clench around the fat head of his cock. Just as he imagined it, cutting off pretty whines and gasps, head bobbing back and forth— like you can’t tell whether it’s too much or too little. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his thick, sticky cock nestled against your throat— but it feels good, heavy and throbbing in a way that makes your brain shut off so quickly you drool. It sticks to his shaft and slides down his balls, painting your chin in a syrupy-sweet layer of saliva, but you’re too far gone to wipe it away. Such a good boy.

He must’ve said it aloud, because there you are nodding, lazily bobbing your head as he grinds in and out of your mouth. There’s a loud, sticky sound coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, obscene in a way that makes you whimper around your heavy mouthful of cock. He’s quick to correct himself— you only ever seem to behave when you’re stuffed with his dick, and he can’t have you thinking your behavior is acceptable. With a grunt, deep and velvety, Aizawa pushes deeper into your mouth until you gag— tight throat convulsing and quivering around his shaft.

You slurp loudly, choking and gasping as you struggle to pull back. His balls hit your chin, heavy and sticky and so fucking good as tears stream down your face. You’re starting to get into it now, making a mess of yourself as you stick out your tongue to lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, eyes focused on the rings of saliva holding you together. Shouta pulls out to let you breathe, his cock quickly liding upupup your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit as you chase after what you’ve been wanting for the past month.

“Stop fuckin’ moving. Let Daddy use your throat, wanna hear you cry on it,” The bulge of his fat cock shows in your throat, in and out, in and out, in and out.

You want to whine, to beat your fists against his thighs, and kick your feet— it’s all so much. He has you by the hair, big hand pulling and tugging, lifting you on and off his cock like a warm, tight fleshlight. You fail to bite back a growl, though it emits more as a cute, pathetic sound, glassy eyes focused on his cock being shoved down your hot, wet throat. It’s so easy to press your lips against the darkness of his pubes, to smear pre along your pouty lips and cheeks. His cock jumps in your mouth, thick and long and curved, leaking at the tip.

It’s hard to adjust to the stretch, sputtering and gagging with such cute, greedy sounds. You’re getting ahead of yourself, eager, tongue lapping at the achy underside of his dick, pressed against his balls. And, with a gasp, Shouta pulls out, huffs and unintelligible groans filling the air. The blushing head of his cock taps against your cheek. Once, twice, again and again. “C’mere.”

And yet, despite all that bark, your eyes barely make contact with the ones above you. Instead they trace the pulse of his shaft, how heavy his cock hangs between his legs, how it makes his long fingers almost smaller in comparison. The way pre dribbles from the tip, sticky and warm and oh, so inviting. It’s as if he can read your mind, knows how badly you miss the weight of his thick cock stretching your throat, “You can do better than that," and you almost can't believe it.

Better? Your eyes flicker to the saliva dripping from your chin, suddenly aware of the slick pre smeared across your pretty cheeks and the heavy pants leaving your lips. What gets better than this? You let him use your throat like a new fleshlight, cried on his cock and muffled the sounds in his pubes. Ignored the aching of your own cock just to focus on his own, absentmindedly bucking your hips into nothing, even if it made you look like a pathetic puppy. Fine— you can show him better. You can break him first.

You blink rapidly, tears clumped in your pretty eyelashes, lips parting to, indubitably, sass the older man. “What, need help gettin’ it up? Fuck you, can do it m—”

Prideful boy. Shouta will have to fix that.

“— I wasn’t asking.” You really fucked up now, eyes wide as you’re lifted up by your throat and manhandled into Shouta’s strong arms. He smells good, and just as strong, as your face is pressed into his chest and your tiny, tiny shorts are pushed past your thighs. The air is cold, it spreads goosebumps along your skin, and you’re sure Shouta can feel them along his palm as he grabs handfuls of your ass. He ignores your off guard ‘Hey! I wasn’t done!’, ignores the squirm of your waist, ignores your poor, weeping cock.

Being the smooth, calculated man that he is, you’d expect Aizawa to put a rhythm and pace to his spankings. But no, there’s nothing for you to latch onto but the bundles of his hair as he hands out sporadic, random, and hard smacks along each globe of your ass. There is no back and forth, no favoring one over the other— it’s just where he wants, when he wants. If he wants to watch your thighs convulse and jiggle beneath his heavy palm he will, and if he wants to smack your hands away from his wrists as you tug and tug— he will.

Shouta groans when you let out a particularly pathetic cry, biting your lip and whimpering into his warm skin. You can feel his big hands part your cheeks, squeezing the skin until it spills over each finger and your ass has turned tender and sensitive. He coos, feeling you squirm and wriggle against his hold, “S’it too much? Daddy’s poor baby.”

It shouldn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips, even when it’s condescending and rough, even when he’s cracking his palm down again and again despite your kicks and squeals.

But it does.

“Da—ddy. . !” your voice quivers, hips rocking to an uncoordinated tune. So little contact and yet it feels like so much, his hot palms against your warm skin. . . The tears rolling down your darling face. . . The way your cock throbs against your tummy, your mouth aches with emptiness, your hole twitches beneath the weight of his fingers. The thought makes you want to whine all over again, body squirming and trembling as he holds and kneads the flesh of your ass.

“Quiet. I should shove my fingers down your throat to shut you up,” Shouta murmurs, so unnecessarily mean, kissing the dampness of your forehead before his hand cracks down against your plush ass three, four, five more times. You try to keep up your resolve, pretty legs trembling and knuckles clenching— but it’s just so hard. Being a brat is easy— it’s fun— you’ll give up a few tears, cry and pout, get your way. Easy. So you won’t break and give him what he wants. He’ll have to work for it, get a taste of his own mean, mean medicine.

Delayed gratification.

Wet llips open to speak, something smug and almost smart, but it’s reduced to a wet moan. You feel it—fingers spreading apart the globes of your ass, and more cracking down between them, on your empty, pretty little hole. For a moment your brain slips out of your body, thoughts static and turned to mush, fuzzy and convulsing where you lay. You process the sound of hushing, the feeling of wetness, the sound of slick spit against your skin. . . Thick, merciless fingers rubbing and tapping and sliding against you.

“Oh, god,” You sob, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows pinching the second more pressure builds and— oh, a finger slips inside. “Fingers— that’s, oh god..” Inching in slowly, rubbing against your velvety walls and so fucking slick you’re beginning to see stars. Whatever you had your mind set on earlier flies straight out the window, your brain short circuits as your sopping hole flutters around his fingers, sucking them in.

“Fuck, baby, look at you clench on Daddy’s fingers. Want Daddy to finger-fuck this cute little cunt silly?” If you could see his face you’re sure he’d be smiling— an eerie thing, eyes trained on his fingers getting sucked back into you. Such a needy boy. “C’mon, say it. Tell Daddy you want his big fingers in your sweet, greedy little pussy.”

You can’t help it, hole throbbing rhythmically along his long fingers, squelching and gushing with stickiness. The swell of your ass ripples as you wiggle your hips, rising and falling to grindgrindgrind. “Fuck me already, c’mon, old man.”

“That what your little ‘boyfriends’ do?” Your lip quivers— he hadn't even flinched at the sass— and instead used your own words against you. “Oh, baby. They didn’t give that little boycunt the attention he needed, hm? That why you throw so many tantrums?”

Your hand finds his wrist, fingers wrapping around thick and strong limp just enough to get his hand moving, trying to guide him deeper, faster, harder. He should reward bratty behavior, but the words spill from his mouth almost immediately, “That’s it, just needed something to fill you up, nice and full.”

It’s ironic— he says it just before pulling out his soaked fingers. And, at your nightstand, opens the drawer to retrieve lube. You watch him pause, eyes scanning the contents of the drawer until his lips quirk downward. Lollipop wrappers. An ungodly amount— you really went on a hunger strike because he ignored you? For six whole days?

“What am I gonna do with you.” He sighs, but grabs a sucker regardless, tearing open its pretty, pastel blue packaging to reveal its red, shiny hard candy. He pops the treat into his mouth, holds it on the right side with his teeth, and squirts a generous amount of lube over the globes of your ass. His hands slip and slide as he guides it around, watches it dribble down your thighs and relishes in the way your hole opens up for him, soaked and sticky.

Your eyebrows pinch, hips wiggling as he pulls the lollipop free from his mouth and directs it against your own, “Suck,” He murmurs, but it’s forced past your lips before you can process the demand. Here come more tears, burning your nose as you hiccup out a tiny, overwhelmed, “Daddy?”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” He coos, circling the pad of his thumb along the rim of your hole. Even as your feet instinctively kick, there’s no reaction from him, just a pleased hum. “Keep sucking, atta boy.”

His thumb feels like a lot, makes you squeal and shiver as he presses it inside, and something hot and wet accompanies it. That's good, the heat of his tongue licking and sucking at your throbbing rim, bubbly spit dribbling down his chin and caught in his stubble. One hand is focused on fucking your boyhole raw, till your brain goes numb and you’re incoherent. His palm presses into the small of your ass, tongue working hard until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your mouth flies open in a silent scream. He takes the opportunity to snatch the lollipop back, keeps his tongue pressed against your walls until—

He trails the glossy sphere of the candy down to your sloppy little hole, nudging and prodding until he slowly works the lollipop inside. “You can take it,” He growls, eyes trained on your fucked-out face. He can feel it, the tightening of your balls, the way your hole aches and pulses with the treat inside you. “That’s it, sweet thing. Wanna make this pussy cum, give it t’me. Let Daddy have it..”

He murmurs, and suddenly, instead of the treat that he’s popping back into his mouth, there’s the head of his perfectly thick, so big, cock pressing against your slick, thoroughly fucked-out hole and—

Oh.

“Sweet.”

You sob into nothing, back arching and spongy walls clinging down on Shouta’s cock as it’s worked inch by inch into you and— you can’t fucking believe it. You fought for so long, put on a bratty attitude and stomped your feet. Why would you ever push Shouta and his cock away for so long? Your breaths are short. Tiny little gasps as his large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs open to get a better view of the thick dick pumping you full. Your pretty little hole, sheen with spit and lube, exposed and on display for him and his cock. And, yeah, this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. . . You want him to break you.

“You’re— fuck, you’re so gross, Daddy,” Shouta grits his teeth, “Ohh, havin’ your best friend’s son on your fat cock, fuckin’ my pussy so full. . !” You’re straight up babbling, cross-eyed as each thrust knocks coherent thoughts out your brain. A real, proper slut, desperately humping upupup to fuck yourself on his dick. With this position— knees to your ears and holes on display, you barely have the control to move— but it’s cute to watch you try anyway.

“Shut up and take it,” He rasps, voice deep and scratchy in a harsh whisper as his hips snap back and forth. “Don’t want mommy and daddy to hear their son calling someone else daddy, do you?”

“Daddy— Daddy, my pussy—“ You’re babbling, it’s all you can do since Shouta is all force with his thrusts; takes what he needs, feeds you his cock good and so, so deep. Over and over, you let out broken whines, desperate for it, looking down as best you can to watch your own cock bob and jump against your tummy, thighs sticky with spit and lube. You can hear the sound of your slutty, pathetic moans, the wet plaplaplap of skin, lube trailing and frothing between your bodies as Shouta fucks into you. You can’t stop twitching— your legs, your hole, your cock.

“This is Daddy’s pussy,” He corrects, angling his hips just right, the heat of his cock pressing against every special spot you’ve got. Every bundle of nerves, every silky, spongy wall you’ve got wrapped around him. “Just like that,” You’re gagging for it, pouty lips parting with open-mouthed pants as he continues to watch your hole tighten around his thick, veiny cock. He has to swallow down his own drool, reaching deeper into you, your body jerking back as he pounds, and pounds, and pounds. You may not be a good boy, but you’re a damn good slut.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. . .” Your breath is caught in your throat, and if you could, you’d scream, your body tensing as your cock throbs and bounces, cum spraying across your bare chest — stickiness shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body set ablaze. Shouta shows no signs of stopping, instead keeping his cock inside you as he flips you around, eyes narrowed. He fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, leaky hole milking him for all he’s got.

“Dumb sluts love cock, baby. S’that what you are?” His voice is a low purr, pressing your face into the mattress, watching your ass fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you.

“Yeah, mhmm,” You drool into your pillow, absentmindedly fucking yourself back onto him. You’re desperate to chase after it, the searing spiral of pressure growing in your stomach, tight hole bearing down on his cock. “Daddy’s slut, s’me!” For a minute you think you’ve passed out, everything going dark as you ride out his hard thrusts, offering tiny movements of your own, up and down to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, to feel his balls slap against your thighs.

“Good sluts take Daddy’s cum,” Your eyes, so glassy and empty, is what gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. “Take it, boy. Let Daddy knock you up.” It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. Shouta’s cum starts to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are erratic and sloppy, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. You never want it to stop, not the groaning or moaning, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move.

He ignores your needy, overstimulated whines when he pulls out completely, his spent cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Even when you’re limp and boneless, body trembling violently, you want more.

“Da— Da—ddy,” You sob, eyes squeezed shut as strong arms pull you up and into even stronger thighs. Sitting on his lap now, Shouta coos hums, basks in the sight of his pretty boy’s afterglow.

“Daddy’s here. I’m here, I got you.” He whispers into your shoulder, and that’s all you need to hear. The thought of his best friend melts away— you’re more than that. You’re not just his best friend’s son. . .

You’re Shouta’s boy.

Summer is coming to an end.

There’s a seasonal chill in the air and it’s getting dark in the early afternoon. The beach has switched its course, currents changing direction and fish disappearing from the shoreline. The weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up, and the clouds have yet to dissipate into the sky. . Shouta helps you pack, grumbles when you press chaste kisses against his skin the whole time— shuts down the stomps of your feet while you whine, “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Spring break,” Is all Shouta says, his mismatched eyes downcast in a way that highlights his long, pretty eyelashes. Then, voice barely audible, he whispers, “I don’t want you to, either.”

Your body visibly straightens, giddiness painting your boyish face as you smile wide and big. The older man almost regrets saying it, huffing with you lean impossible close to hug him tight. “Will you call me?”

“Whenever you want,” He says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. You watch as he throws your large bag of lollipops into your carry-on backpack, but not before plucking a treat free from the others. “You know I will.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

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dreaisgrayte · 5 months ago

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Hannya Mist | Giyu Tomioka x demon fem!reader

Warnings: aphrodisiac (kind of?), touching, boobs, Giyu's first time seeing boobs (#I'm so proud of him), fight for control, first blow job, mentions of sexual fantasies, and mortal enemies kind of sexy for each other heheheh word count: 2.1k a/n: Giyu... my baby. Virgin just fits you so perfectly, but when you learn you LEARN.

Fireflies float through the air, the footprints left behind by the water hashira marking a path of determination. The evening air is muggy, nearly oppressive as Giyu comes across a strange hut. It’s a small building, barely bigger than a room at the water pillar’s manor. His aqua gaze searches for evidence of a nearby village. It was off to have a hut in such a dangerous part of the woods. Did anyone even live in it? If it were abandoned, he could rest up under its roof for the night.

As if answering his inquiry a light flicks on, illuminating the silhouette of a woman in the window. The mountains swallow the rest of the sunlight, a dim stillness settling in the clearing where Giyu stands stagnant. The water pillar is unaware of the mist swallowing him up. A deep purple fog coats the surrounding area, the tendrils from the mist seemingly beckoning him toward the hut.

Come closer it almost whispers and against what better judgment he could form through the thick fog – coating his throat and sense of smell – he takes a heavy step forward. His heart is racing despite the calm breeze that rustles the leaves above his head. Dusk painted the sky an array of orange and pink.

It was like he was on the brink of suffocating. What was with this air anyway? Had it always been this stifling? Giyu sucks in a steady breath, the purple mist filling his lungs. He feels a tingle in his lower abdomen and his brows furrow as it burns hot, making him take pause in his advance toward the hut.

His limbs feel shaky as he brings a hand to his forehead. His other hand grips the hilt of his sword as if that would stop him from sinking to his knees. The slick magma grows, tying his muscles in a buzzing feeling that nearly makes him want to rip it out. He’s panting, the hand that was on his forehead dropping to his mouth as he bites down on a finger.

Giyu Tomioka, the stoic and quiet water hashira, was unnervingly horny. He could feel himself grow stiff in his breeches. His throat bobs as he shakily shifts his legs apart to allow more room for his swelling cock. He’d never experienced such an overwhelming sense before, only hearing about it from the other hashira. Sex never interested him, it was a distraction from the ultimate goal of destroying all demons – but as his eyes flutter shut, all Giyu wants to do is find a wet warm cunt to plunge his aching cock into.

Night has captured the clearing, dusting the ground with moonlight. With the way he felt now, it wouldn’t be safe for him to enter the hut. Not with a woman supposedly alone inside. This damn fog was making him crazy, but the damned door swings open, revealing you.

His hand releases the hilt of his blade.

You are in a blush pink yukata, hands folded in front of you, and a hannya mask covering your face. Your hair flutters around the mask, your head cocking to the right as you peer through the small eye holes at the encumbered water hashira. Beneath your lips pull tight into a smirk.

Giyu had a string of thoughts enter his head, one specifically that he would surely spend the rest of his life wondering about. What did you look like under that mask? A mask crafted to take on the appearance of a female demon consumed by jealousy. Your mask is made out of wood, the bark left jagged and dangerous. Two pointed horns sprouted from the sides, weaving into your own hair. The brows are drawn together in protruding masses. Sharp teeth decorate the open mouth that’s under a large nose.

The water pillar takes a tentative step forward, your presence calling him into your den. “Excuse me, miss, I don’t mean to intrude, but I’ve had a long journey.” He pauses, his head spinning with obvious reasons as to why he should not enter your hut.

You step to the side, though, slowly righting your head. “You need a place to rest. To be safe from demons.” The mask muffles your voice, but Giyu revels in the way its melodic tone enters his ears.

Just for a little bit, he promises himself. The water hashira enters through the threshold of the hut. Inside is a raised wooden platform with a mat pushed into the corner – folded bedding placed on top neatly. Beside the mat is a small table with a candle and tray of steamed rice, vegetables, pork, and a cup of piping hot tea. A cushion rests directly in front of the table, a rug underneath that. In the middle of the dirt area is a cooking pot – storage closets lining the wall and a flickering orange lantern that lights up the whole room on a bench.

His eyes flick to how you stand by the door – he only assumes you’re still watching him by the way the mask faces his general direction. “Have I interrupted your dinner?” His voice is soft and playful.

You shake your head gently so as not to disturb the placement of your mask, then step toward him. “Dinner has just begun.” You reply, gesturing to the steaming food with your head. “Please, eat.”

The ravenette’s mind is fuzzy as he sets his nichirin sword against the far wall. Then, slipping out of his zori, he steps onto the wooden platform. He’s surprised by how comfortable the cushion is under his knees. The food looks delicious, but he stiffens when you come to kneel next to him. Your body was mostly hidden by the yukata, but the hashira imagines how exactly he would lavish you – if he knew how.

He’s stricken with shame – for having such thoughts with you next to him and for his lack of knowledge about sexual experiences. He was disciplined in how the body functioned, training for years on how to perfect muscle density and stances. He clears his thoughts of the wicked images, picking up the chopsticks that are next to the bowl of rice. “Thank you for the food,” He takes a mouthful of rice, humming in satisfaction at the warm consistency. Giyu peers at you while chewing away on the food. “If you do not mind me asking, why do you wear such a mask?” He was genuinely curious, but then again, he was curious why you had to be clothed as well.

You tilt your head. “To hide my identity. Safety.” You answer and as Giyu swallows another mouthful of rice he feels that sickening feeling return. This time it feels like it’s coursing through his very bloodstream. He sets the chopsticks down and you lean forward, raising your hand to pull your mask down. “Are you okay my Lord? That is what they call you right?” Vibrant eyes narrow at him and fangs accompany the twisted smile on your face.

Giyu is panting, clutching his throat as it burns with sensations foreign to him. “D-demon,” He begins, lips curling in disgust. “What did you,” He hacks up spit and winces at the fire in his esophagus. “Do to me?”

Your lips curl in a smirk, crawling closer to him. Giyu can’t move back as you slither toward him, placing your clawed hand on his thigh. “Mmm, well I’m not the one lusting after a stranger.” You tip your head to the side curiously as you graze the indent of his bulge. The ravenette hisses at the way he shifts into your touch. This earns a delighted laugh from you. “I am a demon, the thing you promise to eradicate from this plane of existence, yet you yearn for my touch. It’s…adorable.” Your fingers press firmly into his erection now, Giyu’s eyes squeezing shut.

His body feels like it’s being electrified as you trace the imprint of his cock. “You-You did this to me,” he grunts out. The fog must’ve had some sort of aphrodisiac in it. He’s full of rage and disgust, but also lust.

You giggle, meeting his heated gaze – the blue in his eyes darkening to almost black. “Yeah? Doesn’t look like you want me to stop,” Your fingers reach for the hem of his breeches. “You smell like you’re on the verge of cumming. Are you pure?” Giyu’s heart thumps wildly in his ribcage as you drag your nose up his neck, your tongue darting out to taste the line of his jaw. You return to his line of sight with a wide grin.

The water hashira’s cheeks warm with the acknowledgment. “Please, help me.” You almost want to take pity on the whimpering man in front of you, but who’s to say once your mist fades away that he won’t drive that pretty katana through your heart? He was… exceptionally fit and had withheld this much torture.

You start to peel off your yukata, edging the sleeves down your shoulders. “If you don’t satisfy me, I’ll kill you.” Giyu’s skin itches to be warmed by yours as the yukata billows to the floor. He’s never seen a demon become shy, but that could be a result of him gawking at your large breasts. The way they rest on your chest brings his gaze down to your navel, then dips to your thighs that press together.

After a beat of him staring, you grab his hand and place it on your chest. His brows furrow as the skin molds around his thick fingers. Your own brows knit together as a stained moan escapes your lips. “Barely started and you’re already a mess,” Giyu quips, growing more comfortable with the way your nipple brushes against his palm as he squishes your breast.

You huff, positioning yourself closer. “It’s just been a while.” The hashira tuts as his fingers find your nipple, rolling it between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger. You throw your head back and groan. “Fuck,”

He was growing confident and he hadn’t even gotten to the finale yet. You reach out to stroke his thigh, a smirk twitching on your lips. His ministrations halt, moving his arms out of the way so you’ll have more room. Your ears pound as you gaze upon the sheer size of his cock and some of it was hidden underneath the cloth of his breeches. He gets up on his knees, working them off his hips. Hard pelvis lines lead to the star of the show – the untouched cock of the formidable water hashira. It is fucking beautiful. A pale pink head that’s leaking precum and a hungry look in his eyes.

Though the very thought of having a demon’s mouth around his cock should seem like a very bad idea, Giyu runs his hand through your hair, fisting around it. “You’re gonna wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock. Got that, demon whore?”

To you, that should sound like a threat. You should kill this hashira and reap the rewards, but you allow him to push your head down to his stiff length. For someone who was supposedly pure, he acted like he’d done this before.

The moment your hand wraps around him, his eyes roll back in his head. It’s glorious, the feeling of your palm against his length, pumping up and down. He goes wild when you graze the slit of his tip, rubbing the pre along his cock. Without warning you dip your mouth onto his tip, using the flat of your tongue to swipe at the vein running up the underside. He groans, shoving your head further down.

Hearing you sputter and choke on his cock is damn near hell sent. Spit drips from your mouth and warmth radiates from you trying to breathe. He’s hitting the back of your throat, your fangs dragging along the side of length. Giyu shivers, the feeling painfully pleasurable mixed into a bowl of fucking salvation.

“M’so close,” There’s a fire located in the pit of his abdomen and maybe this is where demons are born – in this hell of angelic desire flooding to one place. That one place happens to be your mouth as Giyu jerks his hips up into your mouth, cumming hard. Spittle and his creamy mess mix as he pulls your mouth off him.

Of course, you lick your lips and swallow what you can with a swollen smirk, but that falters when you realize he’s orgasmed. The one thing to break your mist is to feed into the desire. That would mean Giyu is clear of mind and probably going to cut your head from your-

His hand wraps around your throat, shoving you to the ground. He hovers over your naked body, panting crazily. “My tricks seem to have run dry,” You garble out.

Giyu clicks his tongue, gazing down at your plush skin, regarding the view. “Ah, but I’m not finished yet, demon.”

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dearharriet · 1 year ago

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I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve Harrington x you #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem #Steve Harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve the hair harrington #stranger things #argyle #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #king steve

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eleonoraalbright · 7 months ago

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The Mystery of Mistletoe

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader

Summary: You find yourself underneath a mistletoe with Pan. Unfortunately for you, when you rush off in a hurry it leaves Peter with an insatiable desire to know why you are afraid of the small plant.

You hummed a merry tune while your hand brushed over the bushes’ green leaves to find edible berries. The dazzling sun hung high in the cloudless blue sky, causing beads of sweat to roll down your forehead.

You wiped them away and continued your work. It was a great pity that berry picking had to be done during the hot afternoon. The cool mornings were too full to add this chore to the busy schedule, and the evening sun would trick your eyes into picking the wrong, poisonous berries.

Your two consolations were that three out of the four baskets were filled, and you had help with the task. Peter Pan himself labored alongside you in the humid jungle. You were very grateful for his aid though you couldn’t fathom why he did it.

Surely, as Neverland’s ruler, he had better things to do than this. You wouldn’t voice this question aloud, lest he decide to quit the drudgery. Pan straightened out from hunching over the greenery and arched backwards, a satisfying pop emitting from the stretch.

“Let's take a quick break,” he suggested. Even though you had half a basket left and a break would prolong your time out here, you agreed. You and Pan sat on a log to rest. You brought out your waterskin and took a much-needed drink.

The cool water soothed your parched throat. You would have taken another long swig, but Pan held out his hand for a turn. You handed it to him for he must have been as thirsty as you were. He tipped the water skin and gulped down the refreshing liquid.

A trickle of water escaped his mouth and ran down the side of his chin. You had half a mind to catch the single drop with your finger and lick it. Not one bit of water should go to waste, should it? You shook your head to clear your muddled thoughts. It wouldn’t be a good idea to do that.

Annoying insects buzzed around your head, adding to the discomfort. A mosquito landed on your arm and you slapped it off. Had you been thinking, you might have worn a long-sleeved coat to ward off the blood-sucking bugs, but the notion had seemed like lunacy in the oppressive heat.

Your options were being drenched in buckets of sweat or covered in small, red bites. You had chosen the bites. Now it seemed the wrong one to pick; the following nights would be spent scratching your arms, legs, and neck to relieve the itchiness. Pan let out a sigh and scooched closer to you on the log where it was partly in the shade. He tossed the empty waterskin to the ground.

“Do you think you could assign some other Lost Boys to berry picking tomorrow?” If you had to endure yet another day in the muggy forest, you would scream. Well, that was a lie. You were too tired to scream, the most you would be able to muster would be a grumble.

“I don’t think anyone will do any chores tomorrow. We’ll all need a respite from this blistering heat. Tomorrow we’ll go down to the river. It’s been a while since we’ve played any river games anyhow.”

“Oh, that sounds amazing.” You imagined splashing in the water, your whole body cooling off from diving down and swimming. You would have a breath holding contest with Qian, Devin, and Darragh.

Last time Qian had won, but you had been practicing. Maybe everyone would participate in the game Marco Polo you had introduced to them. They had loved it previously, a little too much.

Bjarki had gotten a bit too invested in the game and gave one of the smaller boys, Andres, a black eye and knocked out his tooth while trying to catch him. The scuffle had turned to a full out war which led to three boys getting concussions and almost drowning underwater.

No lasting harm had been done as they had been rescued and resuscitated. The group could also play sharks and squids which was similar to the game of sharks and mermaids you used to play at the pool, but with more violence.

Pan interrupted your thoughts by mumbling, “I wish we were able to eat mistletoe. It looks delicious.” You followed his gaze upwards and saw the plant dangling from a branch above you both. All drowsiness and lethargy disappeared from your mind as you hurled yourself off the log, tumbled to the ground, and scrambled farther away from the red berries.

Peter was surprised by your actions. He glanced at the plant again to see if anything was wrong with it to have caused such a reaction. Nothing was. It seemed to be a regular old mistletoe. He said with slight amusement coloring his voice, “You seem more terrified of that plant than the dreamshade.”

“And for good reason!” You blurted out. You were confused by Pan’s words. Wasn’t it obvious why you wouldn’t want to be caught under a mistletoe with him? It then occurred to you that, of course, he wouldn’t be aware of the implications and traditions from your world.

He wasn’t from it, so why should he? You breathed a sigh of relief and stood up, dusting yourself off. You laughed, “My mistake, Pan. The heat must be getting to me. I’m not acting like myself.” You grabbed two baskets and began dragging them away.

“Well, I think we have enough provisions. I’ll get these and see you back at camp.” Thankfully, Pan allowed you to leave. You didn't know whether your face burned from embarrassment or from the sweltering temperature. Instinct made you leap from him, but to be honest, kissing Pan might not have been the worst scenario to find yourself in.

You doubted that would happen even if you did explain the custom to him. Doubtless, he would think you were making it up in a poor flirting attempt and mock you. It was better for him to think you batty for a fear of a mistletoe plant or going delirious in the stifling atmosphere.

Peter plucked the plant from its place off the branch and inspected it. He had thought perhaps there had been an enormous beetle or arachnid in its leaves. Just as he thought, there was nothing outright alarming about the humble flora.

Heat had not been an issue for you before, so why would it be now? No, Pan was quite sure your peculiar behavior was because of the mistletoe. The question was what exactly. It seemed like some tests were needed to find out. Was it the whole thing or only parts of it that scared you? Peter Pan was determined to find out.

A day later, the sun was setting in the west, bathing the clear sky in a multitude of blazing colors. An array of pinks and purples washed over the blue and tinged the horizon edges with orange. The Lost Boys were chattering and laughing as they prepared their crude makeshift beds for tonight. A few tents were pitched up.

There weren’t enough to go around for all the boys due to an unfortunate mishap regarding a not-properly-put-out-fire and high winds, meaning the boys had to take turns in sleeping in them. Luckily for Pan, tonight was your turn to sleep directly underneath the stars. He watched from a good distance as you made your pallet ready.

You managed to take another blanket from an older boy and gave it to a younger one who had been complaining about being cold. You went to fluff up your flat pillow when you spotted the small gift Pan had left on the mat. Teleporting closer, Pan lurked in the nearby bushes to witness firsthand your reaction.

He saw you bend down and pick up the bunch of mistletoe berries he left scattered there. You brought them to eye level and stared at them hard as if unsure what they were. Recognition flashed in your eyes and Peter noticed with delight your head swivel this way and that, looking for the person who did this.

Well, that got an interesting reaction out of you. However, to his disappointment, you tossed the red berries into the fire and went off to bed. He was hoping for a bigger outburst from you. He had even speculated you might try to switch sleeping pads with someone else from fear that more berries would appear.

But no, you had been quite commonsensical. On the other hand, there had been that little panicked moment when you realized what the unwanted gift was. Intrigued by your reaction, Pan decided more testing was needed.

The temperature had cooled down considerably the following morning when Peter sent you on a ‘special’ mission. He assigned you the task to find a particular carrot which could force whoever ate it to dance an entire day and night.

The root was on Neverland’s southern side and grew in the rocky area between the forest and the beach. He told you it was identifiable by its bright, sparkly pink leaves. This was complete balderdash needless to say; Pan only wanted you in that region because he had a certain surprise in store.

He tracked your location and became more excited as you approached the destination. Hiding behind a large boulder, Pan spied as you trudged out of the forest and came into view. Your expression morphed into one of great confusion.

Spread out for what looked like the whole beach were leaves. You stepped onto the green mass and grabbed a leaf, tracing its spiky edges. You let it fall to the ground, placed your hands on your hips, and gazed upwards. As far as he could tell, you were very bewildered at the strange situation.

Pan waited with eagerness for you to throw a fit of some sorts or at least run away from the mistletoe leaves. Again, to his disappointment and ever-growing bafflement, you did not. Instead, you plodded along, kicking your feet through the leaves. Evidently, you were still on your quest to get the imaginary root. Pan cursed.

How thick-headed could you be? Did you not see that it was a trick? Pan left. He would let you waste all morning, afternoon, and evening searching for the stupid carrot. It served you right for being such an enigma; worrying about mistletoe one day and not caring about it the next.

Pan sulked. He sat on a log on the camp’s outskirts, fiddling with a crown made of mistletoe in his hands. This was preposterous. Why should he care whether or not you were afraid of the parasitic plant? In an instant, he answered himself: because it would be funny if you had a mistletoe phobia. What was different regarding the circumstances? It couldn’t be the presence of people.

He was there the first time and the Lost Boys had been there the second time, but you had thought you were alone in the last instance. Your first reaction was big while the other two weren’t. Peter held up the leafy crown to study it.

Should he try to recreate the situation to see if the same thing happened? He was so deep in his pondering that he didn’t notice when a Lost Boy came up to him until the youngster spoke.

“Hiya, Pan. Me and some boys made another tent outta the animal hide and we’re wonderin’ if–” He stopped and gawked at the plant his master was holding. “Say, ya got yourself some mistletoe! Neato! Ya gunna use it tah kiss some mermaids? Sure as heck wouldn’t mind smoochin’ those setta fish lips! Ya should–”

Seizing on the peculiar words, Pan leaped to his feet and clutched the boy's shoulders. “What do you mean by ‘use it to kiss some mermaids’?” Did this flora have a secret magical ability he was unaware of? Could this have any connection to your dislike of it? Would it have anything to do with why you flung yourself away from it and threw the berries in the fire?

The scared boy gasped, “If t-two people are under a mistlet-toe, they have tah kiss. It’s tra–tradition.” Pan released the boy. It all made sense now! Patting the boy on the back, he set off to one of his tree houses on the island. He had much to plan and prepare!

You plopped down at the Lost boys’ campsite. Your bones ached and hunger gnawed at your insides. All day was squandered looking for that carrot. You foraged high and low for that thing and had nothing to show for it, not even a sparkly, pink leaf.

You were beginning to wonder whether it existed or if the expedition was a mean joke played for fun. If that was the case, then it wasn’t a very good joke.

If it was real, you would be in hot water with Peter Pan for not finding it. Why would he want a carrot that made you dance? Your tiring questions were forgotten when Felix marched to the spot where you were sitting.

As usual, he spared no time on pleasantries. No, how are you? Do you want some food? Where have you been? To your annoyance, he stated, “Pan wants to see you at trumpet vine tree house.”

You huffed in displeasure, “Why?”

“I don’t know why. He wants you there now.” Felix gave you a stern look which clearly said, If you don’t get up of your own accord, I will drag you there myself.

You groaned. Pan’s word was law. Any protest against his commands would not end pretty for you. You complied with the order and made your way to the trumpet vine treehouse. The place got its name from the vines curling along its trunk and branches, beautiful reddish-yellow flowers bloomed to add a lovely fragrance in the air.

It was about a fifteen-minute walk away. Why did Pan want to see you and in a private setting to boot? Did he want the enchanted carrot? How angry would he get when he found out you didn’t retrieve it?

Should you pretend to have eaten it and dance for twenty-four hours. No, that was a dumb idea. Oh well, you would just have to tell the truth. You arrived and began to climb up the rope ladder.

You poked your head through the opening in the floor and your jaw dropped. On the ceiling, hanging above you, were dozens of mistletoe plants. What the hell was going on with mistletoe! Two days ago, had been the starting incident, then it was the berries on your pillow, then a whole beach full of them!

You didn’t notice Pan was in the room before he spoke, “Something the matter?” You had difficulty in forming a sentence. He pulled you up the rest of the way into the treehouse. He looked pleased with himself and rather smug. “Surely you’re not afraid of a little mistletoe, are you?”

“No, no, no! It’s– it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting it though. Nothing to be afraid of with mistletoe after all.” You prayed he wouldn’t be able to detect your lies.

He held onto your wrists and pulled you closer. “Oh? So, you’re not scared of anything we might have to do underneath it?”

“You know…” You admitted, defeated. “How did you find out?”

He smiled in a self-satisfied fashion. “I have my ways. It took a little bit of careful observing, a couple of tests, and a sprinkle of luck. But it was well worth it. Although it is an odd custom to be sure. What other eccentric traditions did you have back in the Land Without Magic?” He stroked your cheek with his thumb which trailed down your neck. His other hand grasped your waist.

Your attempt to answer was blocked by another query. He quirked an eyebrow up and leaned in further to ask, “Don’t you think that for all the grueling work I put in to understand your old world’s ceremonies and rules that I should be rewarded for my effort?”

Hmm, he did have a point. Giving him a small prize for all the work he endured couldn’t be that bad. Grinning, you performed the exact act that you had avoided doing not forty-eight hours prior. The kiss was sweet and simple and you pulled back three seconds later.

“I would have preferred a kiss on the forehead, but that wasn’t too bad either.” He chuckled at your shocked and hurt face. “That was a mere jest, love. The kiss was near perfect. Much too short of my liking however.” He took a step to the right, bringing you with him. “That’s fine because we are under a different mistletoe and have plenty more to practice under.”

He was right as he always was. Evening faded into night and you and Peter were still in the treehouse practicing.

#peter pan ouat imagines #peter pan x reader #peter pan ouat #x reader #once upon a time imagine #cross posted on ao3

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minecraft-sex-mod · 7 months ago

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timothy rand was already crazy as fuck even before shit hit the fan just for wearing all that denim in the summer months in fucking lousiana. like im not from louisiana but i am from the southeast and let me tell you wearing denim in hot, muggy weather sucks actual balls. like it is hell on earth, man. your body is undergoing its own personal climate crisis. youre just sweatin and sweatin and that denim just traps it all in. i was going to say he's even more dedicated to that swagness is pain grindset than kian but honestly i think he just hates himself

#i speak #timothy rand #jrwi #just roll with it #jrwi bitb #jrwi blood in the bayou #blood in the bayou #jrwi show #bitb #rand jrwi #jrwi rand #jrwi timothy rand

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partially-controlled-chaos · 7 months ago

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Indulgence: Something Sweeter

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: E (Explicit) 18+, MDNI/NSFW Warnings: Kind of porn without plot, but most of the plot is in the previous section of this. Fingering, oral (m receiving and GN receiving), finger licking/sucking, nipple play, penetrative sex in orifice of your choosing, biting, predator play if you squint really hard. Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening. Word Count: 12.8K (7.5k of which is smut about 1/3 of the way down) a/n: As usual, this took me significantly longer and ended up much wordier than I had originally anticipated, but that seems to be my thing. I tried my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible and I think I did well with it, but keep in mind that I just self insert my Tav when writing so if there are mentions of a gendered reader, I'm very sorry. Anyway, this is a follow up to another fic I posted a little while ago, but you don't have to read that in order to read this one. This one is main all about the smut, but if you'd like to know the context behind some things as well as the tension build up, you can find the first part linked below! I've written smut before and I've posted a few snippets here and there, but I've never posted an entire fic for it so I'm about to post this and dip out for the night. Thank you so much to everyone that has left love on the first part of this!

Read on AO3 here if you prefer! Part 1 of this fic can be found here. Masterlist

The area surrounding the town Rivington was uncomfortably hot and incessantly muggy, days of rain left the air humid even after the sun had long set below the horizon. Given the heat of the day and the exhaustion that had come with it, you and your party had decided to camp early for the evening, ready to get a good nights rest before arriving in Rivington and ultimately into Baldur’s Gate. The last remaining rays of sunshine had turned a vibrant orange with streaks of gold, giving you barely enough light to see what you were doing without causing injury to yourself.

Sweat lazily rolled down the back of your neck, tickling the hair at the nape as you focused on steading your hand. The sharpened blade of your knife gently sliced through the soft, malleable wax of the honeycomb you were carefully trying to harvest from the beehive hovering above you. You turned your blade slowly as you cut, gently nudging the occasional honeybee out of the way with the tip of your finger as to avoid harming them. You were precariously balanced on the stump of a dead tree that you’d pulled to the hive and wedged between the roots of the tall oak that you stood before.

You managed to slice a decent sized chunk of honeycomb from the tree, holding it carefully between your fingers to keep from crushing it as you bent your knees into a squat. You dropped the fresh honeycomb into a glass jar that that sat nestled between your mud covered boots, your fingers clutching the bark with your nails to keep yourself steady. As you stood back up to collect more of the honeycomb, you could hear the ever growing buzz of the bees you were dangerously close to upsetting. You stuck your knife back into the wax, beginning to slice again as you heard a slow stride of footsteps approach.

“And how many stings have you collected this evening, my friend?” The deep rumble of Halsin’s voice carried through the silence of the forest. He referenced your run in with a hive of angry bees from a few nights prior, having been stung multiple times in an attempt to get a jar of honey after a strong craving for something sweet. By the end of the night, you wound up sitting cross legged in Halsin’s tent as he meticulously pulled bee stingers from numerous welts across any bit of exposed skin.

“Your humor escapes me sometimes, did you know that?” You asked as you peered over your shoulder, offering a playful smile to Halsin as he joined you, standing by your side as you attempted to balance yourself on your tree stump. Your balance was unfortunately short lived as a bee zipped by your head, making you duck as a reflex. Given that you weren’t the most graceful person to walk amongst your group, you quickly lost your footing and starting the quick fall backwards.

Thankfully, like he had done at the pond a few nights prior, Halsin managed to catch you before you left the top of your stump. However, instead of taking him down with you, Halsin’s stance was firm and was able to support your weight. His hands quickly grabbed the back of your thighs, which were at chest level for him because of the height given to you by your makeshift stool, and held you firmly. With a light shove, he pushed you back into your stool and held you until you had regained your footing.

“Just as caution escapes you.” He said as he continued to brace his large hands against the back of your thighs, holding them firmly in his grasp. Your heart fluttered as you felt him pressing against you, clearing your throat before returning your knife to the honeycomb. You sliced another chunk from the hive, dropping the sweet treat into the open jar as Halsin offered it to you, having taken it from between your feet. Satisfied with the fullness of the jar, you cleaned your knife on the rim before sheathing it back against your hip.

“I’ll have you know that you’re the only reason I’m here.” You said as you hopped down from your tree stump, sticking your fingers in your mouth to clean them of any remaining honey.

“If my memory serves me,” he said as he wiped the rim of the jar with his finger, “I don’t believe we declared a winner for that little game of ours. Instead, you toppled into the lake and took me with you.” You chuckled at the thought, remembering night fondly. You had promised each other a jar of fresh honey for whoever could skip a stone the farthest across a lake at your previous camp, but the night had ended with you both in the lake and aching for a kiss. You had longed for more with Halsin even before that fateful night, but since then it had been a burning desire that gnawed at your heart.

“We didn’t, but we both know I certainly win that little game. And I’m afraid we’re running out of time for another chance.” Your eyes remained on his finger, watching as it circled the rim of the jar and cleaned it of any honey that had dribbled down the side.

“I’m afraid it does.” Halsin said softly, a hint of sadness flickering in his voice, suggesting he shared your sentiment. You both stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next or where to take the remainder of the evening.

The shine of the leftover honey on Halsin’s forefinger caught your eye, tempting you to take a taste of it for yourself. You eyed the thick droplet of honey that threatened to drip onto the forest floor below, gently biting your lip as you tried to fight back the urge that had suddenly come over you. Unlike Halsin, you always had much less self control over your actions and frequently dove into impulsive thoughts with reckless abandon. With that in mind, you took Halsin’s hand in your own, eyeing the thick, amber colored syrup on his finger for a moment before sticking the entirety of his forefinger into your watering mouth.

They honey was sweet and thick against your tongue, a delightful treat that briefly alleviated the stress of day. Given just how sticky and fresh the honey was, you were unable to quickly clean Halsin’s finger of the substance. Your tongue wrapped around the tip of his finger, swirling the digit briefly before pressing the extremity to the roof of your mouth and suckling gently. Your eyes flicked upwards to meet Halsin’s, holding his stare as you diligently licked and sucked the honey from his finger teasingly slow.

Halsin’s heart beat rapidly against his chest, pounding against the inside of his ribcage as he watched and felt every second of your tongue dancing across his skin. Your tongue was soft and wet, caressing every bit of skin you came across with a delicate touch. However, there was a bit of roughness from time to time, the feeling of your tastebuds prickled against him as you continued to lick. With your tongue pressing his finger to the roof of your mouth, you had created a deliciously tight suction around his finger, making it throb in tune with his steadily pounding heart. The suction was strong enough that even if he wanted to, Halsin would have had difficulty removing his finger from your mouth.

Halsin felt the all too familiar of tension of arousal forming in his shoulders and neck as his skin began to grow warm. The promise that you had made to each other for a secluded night away to indulge in each other had yet to come to fruition, something always interrupting the peaceful camp nights to prevent you from sneaking away, and you both were growing restless. You and Halsin had almost made it a game of seeing how worked up you could get the other, all with the hope of the following night to finally be the night where you could drop all responsibilities for a few hours and simply lose each other in kisses and caresses.

Halsin was much better at the spoken teasings. His words were able to quickly make your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, leaving you longing for more of his praises and composed flirtations. You, on the other hand, were much more efficient at teasingly soft physical contact; a sweeping brush of your shoulder against his bare arm as you walked your path towards Baldur’s Gate, your thigh just barely touching his own while sitting around the campfire, and even a lingering touch when you happened to brush hands with each other. This, on the other hand, was the most forward you’d been since you had both skipped stones together a few nights prior. You were growing impatient with waiting; you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

After you were certain his finger had been thoroughly cleaned of any remaining bits of honey, you slowly pulled your mouth from him, making sure that when he finally passed through the tight ring of your lips there was a resounding pop. You looked over your work, making sure you were satisfied with the cleanliness you’d offered before letting his hand drop back to his side. He cocked his head at you with a look of disbelief, surprised at your boldness only a few meters from your campmates.

“What?” You asked playfully, “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” You offered a coy smile to Halsin before turning on your heels, promptly making your way back to camp to join your other companions for the march ahead in the morning, leaving the druid standing under the heavy cloak of the oak tree with a blush on his cheeks and a sudden tightness in his trousers, the jar of honey still in his hand.

Halsin was sure that if he didn’t act now, a chance of having a night alone with you under the stars would never happen. Tomorrow, you and your team would arrive at Baldur’s Gate, the end of your journey together rapidly approaching each day that passed, and very soon he was certain you would part ways. You had both been waiting for the ideal moment when the camp was asleep and you could slip away together quietly, but the opportunity had yet to present itself. Between attacks from lingering cultists and interruptions from whatever creature lurked in the artifact you carried, a peaceful evening where you could indulge in the other was nearly impossible to come by. Halsin wanted a night with you, desperately, and he was sure you did as well, but if that were to happen it needed to happen now.

You felt Halsin’s hands secure themselves around your waist with a grip that wasn’t firm enough to actually hurt, but enough to maneuver you around as he wished. He pressed your back along the rough bark of the tree, far enough away from the still calm beehive that you could no longer hear the faint buzzing of the residents inside. Your foot knocked against the jar of honey he had dropped when he reached for you, leaving it to the ground for now as you came face to face with the druid. Halsin’s pupils had dilated when you looked up to him, noting that the pulse point in his neck was thumping rapidly.

“You have been teasing me with that touch of yours for days now.” Halsin’s voice was low against your ear, a slight waver to his voice as hot breath that came out in quick pants tickled the hair on your neck. He loomed over you, his forearms braced against the tree as his mouth hung teasingly close to yours. You could see his chest heave with each breath, pressing against the fabric of his camp clothes with each carefully controlled inhale. Despite his usually calm demeanor, you could see the self control beginning to crack and the long suppressed warmth of excitement begin to peek through.

“And yet,” you whispered, “you’ve done nothing about it.” Halsin cocked his head slightly to one side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Although you weren’t completely incorrect with your statement, he took no offense. You were both aware of the lack of opportune moments that the road to Baldur’s Gate offered since your night together in the woods, so if anything, he took your words as an invitation to finally act on long suppressed impulses.

“Then I believe it’s high time I change that, hmm?” Halsin asked softly, your own heart beginning to increase in speed as the reality of the moment set in. Halsin’s eyes closed as he readied himself to steal the kiss from you that he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, but you hadn’t quite finished in your teasing of the druid just yet. Before his lips could brush yours, you ducked under his arm, rolling against your shoulder until you pushed off the tree and out from under his frame before flitting around to the opposite side.

Halsin’s head lifted, a quizzical look crossing his face as his gaze followed the path you had taken around the tree, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you. He kept this hand along the bark of the tree, dragging it along as he walked around, surprised to see that you had seemingly disappeared. Although you were not as sneaky as some of your other campmates, you were light on your feet compared to Halsin, giving you an advantage in the game you had started.

With his attention still focused on finding you at some point along the tree, you had managed to quietly slip around the whole of the oak, quietly stepping behind the druid. You ran the tips of your fingers lightly against the top of his hand, noting how the hair on his arm prickled at your touch. Halsin swung his body in the direction you had come from, his heart rate picking up when he realized you were teasing him even more. He was met with another empty space, finding that you had vanished yet again. Taking a few steps forward, Halsin creeped along the tree the best he could, hoping to find out on the other side.

A tingle ran up his spine when he felt your nails lightly scratch over his lower back through his tunic, a low growl coming from his lips as he quickly reached one of his large arms behind him in an attempt to grab your arm before you could scurry away again. However, you had evaded him once more, leaving him to begin his hunt around the tree yet again. Halsin’s ears perked and his gaze flicked to a nearby tree at the sound of a soft whistle, smirking to himself when his gaze finally landed on you. You had managed to dart to a tree further in the woods, lazily leaning against the trunk as you waited for him to follow.

Halsin’s fingers lingered on the tree as he stepped away, slowly approaching you in your new spot. Your eyes fell to his hips, entranced with the way they swung with his distinctive gait. His manner of walking was always something that grabbed your attention, having learned early on that there were a few traits from the bear that bled into Halsin’s day-to-day life and his walking pace was certainly one of them. As he stepped closer to you, your eyes traveled up from his waist and met his eyes, which were filled with an equal mixture of lust and excitement. When he finally made his way, Halsin reached for you with a hand that trembled ever so lightly with excitement.

Before his hand could make contact with you, you had taken a step back and disappeared behind a tree once again, clearly set on continuing your little game. You both quickly fell into a rhythm of teasing touches and quick darts to the next tree. As much as you enjoyed simply teasing the usually calm man reaching out for you, you had other reasons. You wanted to get far enough away from camp so you could indulge in a bit of privacy if things processed the way you expected, not wanting to be disturbed by a feathered companion or someone coming to investigate any peculiar noises emanating from a bit of shrubbery.

You twirled and weaved your way deeper into the forest, the sounds clanking pots and laughter filled conversations from camp were slowly dying down, gradually replaced with the soft, lulling sounds of a warm night. The approaching silence made it much harder for you to scamper away undetected, allowing for a few close calls of being caught in the large hands of the druid steadily pursuing you. Admittedly, this only added to the excitement of the evening. Something about narrowly escaping from a man who spent a large portion of his time as a predator stirred something in your abdomen, leaving you with a light tingle at the thought.

Your game continued for quite some time with you leading Halsin further and further into the forest. By the time you had reached a large willow tree seated by the edge of another pond, you were satisfied with your distance from camp. You pressed your back along the trunk of the tree, allowing yourself a quick moment of rest while you listened for the footsteps that had been following you. However, you were only met with silence. You heard or saw nothing from Halsin, realizing now that you were no longer in control of your little game.

With your back to the water you peered around the trunk of the willow, curiously looking for any signs for the elf that had previously been hot on your trail. You found no signs of Halsin, beginning to think you had potentially left him behind a few trees back. The forest was peacefully quiet, save for the choir of crickets chirping in the distant grass and the occasional croak of frogs somewhere closer to the water. You stepped slowly and quietly around the edge of the tree, your breath leaving your mouth with silent exhales so you could keep yourself hidden in the darkness that now surrounded the area, the sun having set quite some time ago. The forest was seemingly empty as you circled the tree in its entirety, still stepping lightly as you began to leave the willow so you could circle back along the path you’d come from.

A firm set of hand suddenly gripped you firmly by your waist, much rougher than before, pulling you back suddenly and pressing you against the willow with enough force to cause a soft grunt to escape your lips. Halsin’s body was now pressed against yours, holding you securely to the tree. He quickly pressed his knee between your legs, rubbing against your inner thighs and effectively keeping you in place. You gasped lightly at the contact, the feeling of his body against yours after so many nights of teasing and yearning had set your limbs ablaze. And, given the feeling of something warm and quite firm pressing into your leg, you could only assume he felt the same.

“You should change up your pattern next time, my friend,” he said softly, “it’s easy to learn.” His hand came to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb gently caressing the top of your collar bone as the rest of his fingers grazed the back of your neck.

“Clever bear.” You said with a slight chuckle, your voice tapering to just barely a whisper. Your own hands came to rest lightly against his biceps.

When Halsin’s lips finally met yours, he let out a soft moan as his eyes closed, losing himself in your embrace. Your lips were soft against his, gentle and caring and everything he had dreamed about. Halsin had longed for your touch and ached to feel your lips against his, often thinking about their taste and feel while alone in his tent. He could feel a raging heat rise along his neck and into his face, even reaching to his ears after a moment. His hand left the softness of your neck, instead replacing it with the roughness of the bark behind you. His nails dug into the tree, trying to find something to distract him from the call of the beast that was beckoning him close to the edge of losing composure.

“You’ve been eating honey, haven’t you?” You asked between kisses, picking up on the faintest taste of honey as your tongue darted across his lips, “I can still taste it on your lips.”

“I have, but I've made sure to save some for another night. I want to know what it tastes like on your tongue and on your skin.” Halsin rasped, “But tonight, I want to taste something sweeter.” You shuttered at his response, tightening your grip on his arms firmly as you felt his tongue swirl against yours, taking your breath from you with each passing second.

With his hands placed securely along your hips once more, the druid pulled you away from the tree he’d pressed you against, lips still heavy on yours as he led you to a pretty patch of grass by the waterside. You followed him blindly, trusting in him completely as your fingers began tugging at the ties on the front of his camp clothes. Halsin smiled against your lips, thoroughly pleased by your enthusiasm as he followed suit and slid his hands underneath your own shirt. His hands caressing and stroking your bare skin under your shirt caused you to shiver and a tingle to settle in your cheeks. Halsin’s touch was slow and gentle, allowing him to truly take the time to appreciate the feel of your supple skin against his hands.

Halsin pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it to the side before returning his hands to your body, focusing his attention on working pulling open the ties to your trousers. Despite the looming size of his hands, his fingers were fast and nimble as they loosened your laces just enough to allow your trousers to easily slide down your legs along with the remnants of your small clothes. Your boots were kicked off somewhere between Halsin pulling your trouser ties open and the same trousers colliding with the ground, although in the heat of the moment you couldn’t recall exactly when.

You, however, were not as skilled in freeing the druid from the confines of his camp clothes, unsure of what tie opened which flap and just where the seam of his trousers started. Halsin chuckled softly, finding the confidence you had carried all evening quickly leaving as you struggled with his clothing. Being merciful, and a bit impatient, Halsin stripped himself of his garments, tossing them along with yours off to the side, his sandals having long been flung in different directions.

Halsin took a step back from you, both hands still holding yours as he simply observed your naked form standing before him. You were breathtaking and beautiful, more than he could have possibly imagined in those long, lonely nights in his tent, and imagine he did. A warmth spread to you chest as he drank in your body, suddenly feeling shy by being bared in full to him. You took the time to observe him as well, more than impressed with the man that stood before you. Simply given the size of his arms, you knew he was muscular and well built, but it was different when actually seeing him in person.

With a gentle tug you were pulled towards him, your chest pressing against his as Halsin kissed you again. He groaned softly into your mouth, his eyes sliding closed as his hands roamed along your back and sides, lightly squeezing as he felt you beneath his fingertips. Your own hands traveled along his chest and arms, feeling the definition of muscles from years of fighting and roaming, but you could help but noticed just how warm his skin was. He always ran on the warmer side from what you could tell, but now he was almost hot to the touch.

He pushed away from you suddenly, arching forwards as an all too familiar heat rose in his chest. You took a step back, unsure of what was going through his mind as you watched Halsin grit his teeth, a light snarl and plea to Silvanus for guidance. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what was happening as you watched him fall to all fours, erupting in a familiar flash of golden light. The hulking frame of the elf was soon replaced with one of a cave bear, panting with heated breath and emitting rumbling growls. You knelt to the ground, knees touching the tender grass as your eyes remained fixed on the bear before you, your hand reaching out slowly to try to make contact. Your hand brushed against his wet nose, which was still blowing out warm breath with each pant.

“It’s all right,” you said softly, “you’re all right.” Your hand slowly moved to the snout of the bear, your fingers running through the coarse fur in an attempt to calm him down. It took some time, but soon enough the frantic breathing of the cave bear finally calmed and settled into a steady rhythm. Before long, the bear erupted into another flash of light, leaving Halsin before you once again.

“I-I’m sorry,” Halsin stammered, “the beast is difficult to control at times, especially if blood runs hot. I lose myself and it takes over. Forgive me, please, the urges are just too strong at times” Halsin remained low to the ground, leaning on one knee with his back still hunched. His palms were facing you and his hands had the slightest of trembles. His mind raced as he knelt before you, emotions swirling and settling in his chest, cursing himself for allowing all control to be lost in such an important moment.

“Halsin,” you said softly as you reached out again and placed a hand over his chest, “don’t ever apologize for that. It’s not a beast and neither are you.” His chest was unbelievably warm, but had cooled slightly, and his heart beat frantically against his chest. It was more than just arousal that caused the reaction in his body; it was fear. You glanced to his face and saw nothing but a mixture of panic and regret. Your heart ached at the sight, having never seen the strong man reduced to genuine fear in front of you.

“It’s in your nature. You of all people should know that.” You moved your hand from his chest and rested along his cheek, cupping it softly in your hand, “Don’t ever feel ashamed and don’t hold yourself back on my account.” His hands once again made purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, much lighter than before, as if he was afraid that touching you would change your mind.

“And, if I’m being honest,” you continued, “I quite like the bear.” You saw his eyebrows knit together slightly, head cocking to the side before he spoke again.

“The bear?” He said with a bit of hesitation, “You…like it?” You smiled with a slight chuckle. The back of your fingers softly caressed his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin against yours as you tried to soothe any worry that lingered in his mind.

“I do,” you said softly, “but I’ll indulge the bear another night. Tonight, let me indulge in you.”

Halsin’s lips were on you before you could barely get your words out, hungry and firm against your own. His hands cupped your face, pulling you as close as possible to him as he took your breath away. With his lips to yours and your words still echoing in his ears, Halsin relaxed, feeling safe to be himself around you. You accepted him the way he was, even with a seeming lack of control at times, and it was almost euphoric. The weight of shame and guilt having been lifted with your words and soft touch. It wasn’t long before one of his hands cradled the back of your head and the accompanying arm ran down the length of you back. He used this position to gently lower you onto the grass below, quickly topping you with his own frame.

The grass was soft against your bare skin, the blades tickling your back as you felt Halsin settle above you. The druid’s hips settled between your parted legs as the length of his body rested just above your own, lightly grazing when either of you moved. Your hands ran along the expanse of his bare chest and shoulders as his lips met yours, his large arms resting by your head. You felt Halsin’s fingers weave their way through your hair, softly scratching at your scalp as he took his time exploring your lips. It wasn’t long before he deepened the kiss, moaning against your lips as his tongue asked for them to part. You happily obliged, letting his tongue easily slip into your mouth and explore to his hearts content. One of his hands left the tangle of your hair, settling along your cheek and jaw. Halsin’s thumb tugged at your lower lip, keeping your lips parted ever so slightly for better access.

After some time, Halsin’s lips left your own and slowly moved towards your jaw, giving you the chance to catch your breath as he focused his tongue on other areas of your body. There was no rush or sense of urgency in his movements as Halsin kissed his way down the column of your throat, simply enjoying and relishing the moment he’d been waiting to share with you for so long now. Your skin was warm from the night air and the blush that had started to grace your skin, radiating against Halsin’s cheeks as he pressed soft kisses against you. He suckled gently against the tender skin of your pulse point, feeling the steady pounding of your heart beneath his lips until a light bruise had formed before moving to your collar bones.

You heard a gentle growl come from Halsin as he kissed your sternum and felt the soft placement of tongue tickling your skin before his lips followed suit. His movements were slow and gentle as he made his way lower, fully content with savoring every moment of you underneath him. He loved the subtle reactions your body gave when he kissed and licked a new spot, taking note of what you favored. The way your heartbeat quickened as his hands traveled lower along your body, how your fingernails would brush against his shoulders and lightly scratch as his own teeth would graze your skin, and the quiet sighs that would escape your parted lips when he found a particularly sensitive bit of skin; all of it a symphony to the druid that was slowly losing himself in you.

A shaky moan broke the quiet serenity of the forest when you felt Halsin latch on to your nipple, taking the hardened bud between his teeth and giving the lightest of bites before soothing it with another kiss. Your back arched off the softened patch of grass and lightly into the air as your head rolled to the side, more gasps and sighs spilling from your lips the more Halsin serviced your nipple. You felt his hand slowly slide from your ribcage to the arch of your back, pressing you closer to his own frame all while caressing your sweat slicked skin. It wasn’t long before he switched sides, your body tingling at the ministrations of his teeth and tongue against your sensitive skin. Your eyes closed as your hands explored what you could reach of his upper body, eventually coming to rest along the top of his head.

Your fingers brushed along the tips of his ears as you explored his body, which earned you a sharp bite to your now swollen nipple and a tightening grip along your waist. Your eyes reopened and looked down the expanse of your body, admiring the glistening of kiss marks in the moonlight against your skin. Halsin’s eyes were focused on your features, meeting your eyes with a lustfully clouded gaze. You bit your lip with a devious smile, realizing just how much the faintest touch against his ears had excited him. With a slightly firmer touch, you ran your fingers along his ears once again, letting your nails graze ever so slightly. Halsin responded to the touch with a low moan and giving an involuntary thrust against the ground.

The druid continued his descent downwards at a slightly faster pace, having been spurred on by the teasing to the tips of his ears. He continued to hold your gaze as he kissed down your body, feeling the rise and fall of your stomach as you inhaled deeply and released with each shaky breath. His hands grasped your hips, softly squeezing and caressing the soft flesh there as his mouth finally reached that lovely spot that rested at the apex of your thighs. Halsin planted gentle, loving kisses to the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance, teasing you ever so slightly as he took his time in exploring your most secret of places.

Your thighs instinctively wanted to close and press themselves against Halsin’s head as he teased and tasted you, wanting to keep him there as long as possible. Your hips rolled under his touch and your back arched further, desperate for his contact on your most sensitive spot. You felt him chuckle against your skin, causing a deliciously sensational warmth to begin to pool in your lower abdomen. His hands traveled from your hips to your outer thighs, caressing and grazing with his fingertips as his lips found the velvety soft skin of your inner thighs. After a few more kisses and even a light bite to the soft skin, Halsin’s hands gently pried your lightly trembling thighs from the sides of his skull, pulling them wide until they were kissed by the grass beneath your body. He kept them open by resting his heavy arms on your thighs, giving his hands the opportunity to focus on more important matters. Halsin teased your entrance with a finger and tongue, lingering for just a moment before finally granting you the satisfaction of slipping inside.

“Halsin…” His name slipped from your lips as nothing more than a whisper as you felt him taste you, the bulk of your breath having been taken away when he first teased your entrance. Your hands desperately searched for any part of your lover to cling to, but given just how high the arch had gotten in your back, you were struggling to make purchase. You settled for winding your fingers in the grass beside you, pulling and tugging at the tender blades until they ripped and you needed to find more.

Halsin glanced up to you, his mouth and tongue still working their magic on your body as he added a second finger, curling at just the right spot to make your body quiver in bliss. He smiled as best he could at your expression, considering that his lips were occupied. Although pride was not something the druid typically felt, it coursed through him as he watched your mouth open and close with soft gasps and the way your eyes knitted together tightly in time with each exhale. Watching you, the normally well put together leader of the group of misfits he’d so eagerly joined, melt into a puddle of whimpers and moans by his touch was enough to make his already painfully hardened cock throb and weep at your image.

Your back rose and fell with each roll of your hips against his teasing, surging with pleasure with each swipe of his tongue as you flitted closer and closer to the blissful edge of release. You felt teeth, tongue, lips, and fingers; anything and everything Halsin could use at his disposal to bring you to your first release of the evening. He held his hand along your abdomen, slowly sliding up towards your chest so he could feel as much you beneath him as possible. Halsin wanted to feel you writhe and squirm under his touch and wanted nothing more than to feel the shakes and convulsions your body would offer when you finally reached your orgasm. You quickly released your grip on the grass you’d ripped out by the root, replacing the handful of foliage with Halsin’s own hand. Fingers were soon intertwined and you held to him tightly, your knuckles turning white as the contact grounded you and allowed you to focus on the tightening coil deep in your belly. Each exhale turned into a breathy moan that only increased in volume as Halsin intensified his efforts, determined to swiftly bring you the release you desperately wanted with a flick of his tongue.

Your legs began to tremble under Halsin’s arms as he brought you closer to the edge, heat surging in your abdomen as your muscles along your thighs began to tighten. A sudden rush of warmth and indescribable satisfaction washed over your quaking body, jolts of pleasure fired through your muscles as you finally broke the barrier. The sensation made your mind cloud as you rode our your orgasm, still feeling Halsin’s tongue and lips tending to your sex. Your eyes closed as the final waves washed over your body, your breath coming in deep inhales as the feeling subsided much too quickly for your liking. The feeling was euphoric, but you wanted more.

Halsin kissed up along your body quickly, leaving your tingling lower half to bring his face to meet yours once again. Your mind still reeled from your orgasm as you felt his lips against your heaving body. Halsin kissed you gently on your cheek, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as you continued to come down from your peak. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as you tried to regulate your breathing once again. His skin was warm under your touch, the lightest layer of sweat forming along his back from the heat of the night air. Halsin kissed along your jaw until he pressed his lips against yours once again, tender and soft when compared to frantic movements just moments ago.

“More?” He asked after breaking from your lips, taking the time to wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as your eyes finally opened for him.

“More.” You said with a nod between pants, your body still trying to regain some sense of composure from the feeling you just experienced. Halsin’s mouth returned to your skin at your words, licking and sucking along your neck as he waited for you to settle once more. Your skin was pleasantly warm, a combination of the heat of the night and your exertion having caused the change in your body temperature. He adored the blush that had settled on the apples of your cheeks and poured onto your neck and along your chest, the sense of pride returning to him as he admired the state of your body all due to his touch. Halsin could still taste you on his lips as it mingled with the sweat from your neck, finding the taste to be almost intoxicating.

Halsin was still lazily planting wet kisses along your body, tasting as much of you as he could as he moved to your chest. When you felt strong enough to move again, your hands and fingers ran along his neck and shoulders, feeling the definition of the muscles that lay just beneath your fingers. Years of roaming nature had toughened his skin thanks to the touch of the sun, but in your exploration you had found a few spots still supple. You traced behind his ears and along the back of his neck, feeling his skin prickle and twitch under your touch and you found yourself wanting to feel more. Given that he was distracted, you took the opportunity to have the upper hand. You playfully shoved Halsin’s shoulder from you until you had the druid pressed onto his back in the grass with a surprised grunt, throwing your leg over his hips until you had him straddled.

“I believe you’re stronger than you let on, my friend.” Halsin said with a sly grin, impressed at the swiftness of your movements given your previous orgasm.

“I am when I need to be.” You said softly, adjusting your position in his lap as Halsin sat up just slightly, leaning back to place his weight along his forearms. He simply enjoyed watching you above him, seated ever so nicely in his lap as you took your time exploring with your fingers. Your chest was still heaving slightly from your orgasm just moments prior and the druid had his eyes glued to your form, drinking you in and memorizing every dip, curve, and blemish that adorned your body. With the soft light of the moon behind you, illuminating you in a glowing halo, he watched as a bead of sweat rolled from the side of your neck, lazily rolling over your collar ones and onto your chest before getting lost somewhere in the skin above your navel.

“The Oak Father truly broke the mold with you,” Halsin said softly as his eyes continued to wander across your naked body, “I’ve yet to see anything in nature that compares to your beauty.” If you weren’t already blushing, you were now. You leaned forward, kissing his lips as an appreciation for the compliment.

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You murmured against his lips, taking the time to kiss them once more before moving your way down his neck. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders, beginning to move along his chest as you kissed and nipped lightly down his throat, searching for more tender expanses of skin. You felt him shudder with each light graze of your teeth against his neck, a satisfied hum coming from you with each nibble. With a light touch, you ran your fingertips across the expanse of his chest, feeling every bit that you could reach while still slightly leaned over his frame.

You returned to your previous position, pressing yourself up from his chest while allowing yourself to marvel at the hulking elf beneath you as your fingers continued to roam, feeling and caressing with a gentle touch. You traced along the thick veins in his arms, feeling the firmness of the surrounding muscles of the biceps that could easily have their way with you. His heart beat steadily in his chest when your fingers grazed over his pectorals, enjoying the feeling of the thick hair that coated his chest. While your fingers enjoyed their exploration of his chest, making sure to graze over and toy with his hardened nipples as your eyes traveled further down his body. He hissed at the contact, but loved every moment of your teasing fingertips along his skin.

Your gaze followed the line of coarse hair that trailed between the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen and came to an end at the base of his cock, which was seated nicely between your thighs. You smiled to yourself as you watched his member twitch and bob under your touch when you ran over a particularly sensitive spot, resisting the urge to tickle those areas when you came across them. Your forefinger ran along a nonsensical path around his abs, simply keeping the hand occupied as the opposite finally reached his throbbing cock, which was steadily dripping his arousal in a long stream along his stomach. With a quick flick of your gaze to Halsin, you dipped the tip of your forefinger in the pool of his spend, rubbing small circles to coat the digit before you finally brought your coated appendage to your lips.

“Something sweeter, you said?” You asked with a feigned innocence as you held his gaze, finding the anticipation in his face quite amusing. You could feel his muscles tighten beneath you as he anticipated your next move, his eyes flicking between your half lidded eyes and your coated finger hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

You ran your tongue along your coated finger, engulfing the entire digit in your mouth once you had reached the tip and the first taste of Halsin’s arousal had touched your tongue. You took your finger to the knuckle, cleaning the appendage quickly. Halsin’s hips bucked upwards as he watched your finger slowly slip from your mouth, thrusting you forwards until your hand collided with his chest to keep you from falling flat against him.

Halsin’s shifted his weight to rest on one of his forearms, using his now free hand to grasp your jaw, pulling you into a heated kiss with a quiet growl. His tongue was in your mouth in an instant, tangling with yours in an attempt to feel as much of the mouth that had teased him all day. With your tongues dancing with one another, you slid your hand down his chest and stomach before ghosting your fingertips over the weeping head of his cock. Halsin released his mouth from yours to as his breath caught in his throat, his grip leaving your jaw as he fell back onto both arms.

You returned your lips to his body, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses along his chest, steadily working your way lower as you followed the trail your fingers had previously taken. You could taste the sweat that had formed on his body as your lips traveled lower before you finally pulled away, admiring the trails you’d left along his skin. Your fingers had gone from simply teasing the sensitive head to stroking along the length of his cock in long, fluid movements. He pulsed in your grasp as you continued your stroking, squeezing in varying strength along his cock, stopping occasionally to rub small circles along his oversensitive cock head.

“That touch of yours will be the end of me one day.” Halsin whispered as his head tilted back against his shoulders, his eyes closing slowly as he allowed himself to enjoy your movements. You watched as his chest heaved with each stroke of your hand, his breath coming in and out through his nose as he tried to keep himself collected and under control. Halsin felt his muscles tense and his heart pound under your touch, his body finally indulging in your long sought after touch, and he wanted the feeling to last as long as possible.

“Is that a promise of more nights like this, then?” You asked with a curious look, wiggling your way off his hips, choosing to settle between Halsin’s thighs to give yourself a better position for what was to come.

“Many more, if that is what you wish as well.” Halsin managed to choke out between sighs and soft groans as you stroked your hand along the length of his throbbing cock at a steady pace. Each flick of your wrist became easier over time, the slick that had fallen from the weeping tip giving you plenty of lubrication to work with. With lust filled eyes you looked up towards the druid as you began to lower your head to meet your hand.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin’s low voice wavered as he spoke, a shudder wracking his body as the flat of your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. His eyes reopened and he lifted his head long enough to watch as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip. Halsin finally dropped to his back, his arms giving way underneath him as your tongue swirled the cock throbbing in your mouth. Like you had done with his finger earlier in the day, you pressed the tip to the roof of your mouth, creating a firm pressure to the overly sensitive head.

Your tongue was softer than velvet against Halsin’s cock, swirling and suckling around the tip with enough pressure to make him squirm in pleasure. He moaned softly with each swipe of your tongue, his hips thrusting upwards ever so slightly to create more friction against your warm, wet mouth. With his tip still securely pressed to the top of your mouth, your tongue worked wonders on the underside of his member, focusing on the sensitive space on the underside of the tip. You suckled away on his cock while your hand continued to stroke lazily along his base. As he did with you, you took your time in exploring his cock with your mouth, listening to the delightful moans and sighs that came from above you.

Halsin let out an exasperated sigh when you finally released the suction from his cock, which allowed you to begin your teasingly slow descent. Your lips were pressed tightly around his cock, still creating a light suction as you worked your way down, although your pace wasn’t entirely due to just wanting to tease the man writhing at your touch. Given just how large of a man that Halsin was, you were under no illusions that his member would be anything less than large, but you truly weren’t prepared for just how impressive his size actually was. You took your time in an attempt to service his length in a way that was pleasurable to both you and Halsin.

You took him further into your mouth, his tip beginning to slip into the tightness of your throat as you focused on not choking along his length all while keeping a steady breath. Halsin’s fingers found their way into your hair, settling on the crown of your head as he felt you lower yourself to your limit, a light gag coming from your throat before you pulled back up. His simply rested his hand along your head as you began to bob along his cock, gradually picking up speed as you became more comfortable with your limits. He didn’t pressure you further than you wanted or tried to change your pacing, but simply needed something to grasp onto as he worked his way through waves of pleasure. He wanted you to enjoy yourself as much as he was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel pressured to go beyond your limits. For this, you were thankful.

You soon found yourself in a rhythm, guiding your head up and down along the length of his hardened cock with ease, occasionally ending with an audible gag if you pushed yourself too far. For now, he was too large for you to comfortably handle, so you made use of your still slicked hand to stroke and toy with the portion of his shaft not covered by your mouth. From time to time you’d pull away, allowing yourself a few sucking breaths of air before your lips returned to him in some way either through licking any neglected areas or sliding it back into the heat of your mouth. His spend was salty against your tongue, yet something you swallowed eagerly.

Halsin’s breath hitched and the urge to buck wildly into your warm mouth was becoming too much to handle as he felt a tingling warmth begin to settle in his groin. His fingers grasped at your hair lightly, desperate to anchor to something more substantial as he fought the urge to spill into his own orgasm. However, he resisted, wanting to save that wonderful wave of pleasure for something more intimate than your teasing mouth. Your eyes met Halsin’s once again as you continued your ministrations to his weeping cock, your gaze tender yet blissfully hazy.

You felt his fingers untangle themselves from your hair, dragging along your cheek with a loving touch. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm as best you could, your mouth still fully occupied with pleasuring the cock that was dangerously close to spilling over. Halsin gripped your chin gently, pulling you up and off his pulsing member with a shaky breath. His eyes were drawn to the line of spittle that still connected your reddened lips to the tip of his length, gently wiping your lip with his thumb as your breath came out in pants. You struggled to catch your breath as he held you in his grasp.

“If you keep going like that,” Halsin said after he’d regained some of his composure, “this night will be over much sooner than either of us would wish.”

“We have all night, do we not?” You asked as your tongue flicked across your lips, collecting any remaining spittle that lingered.

“We do, but let us hope that the sun is slow to rise.” Halsin murmured quietly before closing the gap between your bodies. He took your lips with his once more, tender and sweet as he came forward, urging you onto your back for the second time before parting from you. Your body settled into a fresh patch of grass that was slick with the beginning touches of dew forming on the blades. You sighed happily into the night air, your body succumbing to the gentle touches of the druid. Halsin’s hands softly grabbed the underside of your thighs, giving them a light squeeze as he parted your legs for him.

Your heart fluttered as he crawled up the expanse of your body, his arms and hands surrounding you as he knees knocked your legs open a bit further. His kisses and touches had become light and feather soft, caressing your lips and body with a touch so gentle you almost couldn’t feel it. He was holding back as if touching you any more firmly would thoroughly break you. You had to admit that you understood his concern, given that the bulk of his frame was currently looming over you and he was a bit larger than you had anticipated.

“You don’t have to restrain yourself with me,” you said between kisses, “I’m sturdier than I look.” You brushed stray hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and out of the way. You knew Halsin wanted something a bit more rugged. He was more than content with slow, languid kisses and soft touches, but you also knew that he had been pent up for quite some time between suppressing his own emotions for years and your own teasings as of late. You wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as you were.

Holding back his feelings was something Halsin wasn’t accustomed to doing on a day-to-day basis; he wore his heart on his sleeve and made his emotions clear. You, however, were the one exception. He had been attracted to you for quite some time before either of you had made it to your current situation, yet he was hesitant to come forward with those feelings. Decades of denying himself something more meaningful and vulnerable simply couldn’t take a priority over his duties, so now that he was presented with the opportunity, Halsin had hesitated. But now, you both were here in each others arms, fully exposed and having tasted the other in some fashion; now was not the time to restrain feelings.

“I have no doubt about that, believe me, but either way I promise to be gentle.” Halsin said with a slight chuckle, “At least for now.” Halsin wanted nothing more than to hold you down and have his way with you until you were a puddled mess, but he also knew when the time was right. Although you were more than ready to try and take him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in his overeagerness. Instead, he opted to take things the more gentle route until he was sure you were up for something more vigorous.

He pressed his lips to yours once again in a lingering kiss, moaning softly against your mouth as he lined the tip of his cock up with your well slicked entrance. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his warm, throbbing tip pressing against your eagerly awaiting entrance, the feeling of him being so close made your muscles melt beneath him. As slowly and carefully as possible, Halsin eased his way into you, earning a sudden gasp from your kiss swollen lips. He moved his own lips to your ear, cradling the opposite side of your face as he guided himself deeper into you.

His lips were soft and tender on your temple, kissing lightly when you hissed or made a gasp that sounded more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Halsin took his time, guiding his movements in accordance to your body’s reactions than his own lusts. From time to time you’d press your palm against his hip or stomach, quietly asking him to wait until you could adjust. When you did so, Halsin listened, waiting until you were ready to continue as he peppered your cheek with more kisses and whispered praise or encouragement in your ear. You moved your hand from his hip when you were ready to continue, whimpering softly as he continued the slow movement into your heat.

When Halsin had fully seated himself inside you, he released groan from deep within his chest, savoring the feeling of you around his hardened cock. You were warm and tight, which was everything he had expected from you, but the actual feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. With everything you had done for him so far, you had once again exceeded his expectations. With this, he wanted to begin moving against you and feel you expand and contract around him, but he paused. Halsin remained still inside you, waiting for your approval before continuing. He knew you needed time to adjust and he would allow you to take as much time as you needed. In the meantime, he simply enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

Your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply, adjusting to the size of the length buried inside you. He was large, but not uncomfortable. Halsin was exceedingly gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you with his size, but you were ready for more. You met his haze once more before giving a gentle nod, urging him to continue.

“You have been more than worth the wait.” Halsin murmured in your ear as his hips began to move against you, taking your lips once more with his before you could respond. Your moaned against him, the feeling of his cock slowly slipping out of you before nuzzling back in made a light warmth settle on your cheeks and made your heart flutter with anticipation. You stayed like this for some time, your arms wrapped around each other while connected by your lower halves, taking everything slow and steady until your body had grown accustomed to the size of the cock nestled deep inside you.

However, it wasn’t long before you felt comfortable with his size. Your hips rolled against his, asking him to begin picking up the pace as any discomfort quickly subsided and was replaced with pleasure and ecstasy. Halsin eagerly complied, pulling his arms from you slightly so he could rest along his palms, his hips rolling against yours as he kept his thrusts light, but just slightly faster. Your hands ran down his chest like they had done earlier, feeling his muscles flex under your fingertips with his movements. Halsin was correct, he and this moment were more than worth every moment of teasing and waiting that you’d experienced. He was worth it.

Halsin sat back, resting his weight on splayed knees so he could watch you from above. His hands explored and grasped at the expanse of your thighs as he watched your body writhe and roll under his touch, desperate to meet his cock with a roll each time he sheathed himself fully into you. His eyes searched your body, unsure of which part of you to settle on for more than a few seconds. He wanted to take in every bit of you as he thrust his hips into your warmth. Your face and chest were covered in a deep blush and glistened with sweat against the glow of the moonlight, parts of you bounced each time his hips snapped to yours and became almost hypnotic if he started too long, but in the end he decided that the most delicious part of you to watch was simply just how well you took his throbbing cock. His eyes traveled to where you both were joined, mesmerized by how your entranced stretched with each thrust to accommodate his size, but so early accepted him back in each time he fully entered you. The view combined with the feeling of your heat squeezing around him was almost enough to send him into a frenzy.

Halsin gripped the underside of one of your thighs, lifting it from the ground until the back of your leg rested against his broad chest, opening you up more for him, but also allowing him a better view of his cock disappearing into your heat. His lips and tongue found the skin of your leg and left sloppy, wet kisses along the sweat soaked skin as his fingers pressed firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh. His other hand traveled to your lower half, feeling your muscles tighten in your abdomen as your released neared. He used his fingers to brush across your most sensitive spots, a playful smile gracing his lips as you responded deliciously to his touch.

Your body was on fire, aching and throbbing with heat as Halsin snapped his hips to yours with each thrust. The sound of wet skin smacking against skin and mingled with grunts and moans filled the quiet evening air, making any animal in the area scamper off quickly at the noise. Your cheeks burned with exertion and desire, a feeling that was equally matched in the fire that was ignited in your lower belly. You could feel the string of pleasure begin to coil, knowing it wouldn’t be long before it snapped once more. Your hands grasped and squeezed at your chest, fingers flicking across and occasionally pinching your hard and sensitive nipples, eliciting sharp moans into the air that sent shivers down the back of the druid.

“More,” you gasped out as you felt the coil deepen, “please.” Your voice was almost a whine, needy with desire and lust as Halsin continued his movements.

Halsin moved instantly at your words, pressing forward until his chest met yours, your leg still pressed against his chest as your knee now rested close to your face. He moved your other leg to rest on his other shoulder, his hands shaking at the feeling of you practically halved beneath him. His arms kept your legs from slipping off his sweaty shoulders as his hands came to rest by your head, one of them tangling in your hair with a firm grasp. His lips found your neck and offered a light bite to the soft flesh, making your mouth fall open at the contact. Halsin thrust into you more firmly, knees and toes digging into the grass beneath him as his pace increased.

Your own hands found purchase on his body, one resting on the side of his warmed cheek and the other tangling with the knot he kept tied at the back of his head. Your body trembled beneath his as your second orgasm starting coming to a peak, knowing it wouldn’t be long until it crashed over your body. Halsin’s eyes remained locked to yours, entranced by the look of pleasure that covered your lovely face. You panted against each other, breath mixing together and only adding to the heat of the moment.

“You’re almost there, my heart.” Halsin panted against you as his forehead rested along yours, “Let go. Let me feel you.” The new use of a pet name and his coaxing send sparks flying through your body, awakening some sort of arousal you’d have to explore more at a later time. For now, however, his words and movements were enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking with a delicious heat and pleasure as your legs trembled against his shoulders. Your orgasm rushed through your body, sending bolts of electricity along your spine as you rode it out. You tightened your hold against Halsin’s cock, which was still thrusting into your sensitive entrance. The sudden grip on him almost caused his to experience his own release, but the druid held firm and made the feeling subside. As much as he wanted to feel his own pleasure course through him, he wanted to take you one final time before indulging in his own pleasure. You moaned and whined, your body twitched and shook under the last remaining licks of your orgasm, your mind hazed with pleasure and exhaustion.

With a swift movement, Halsin removed your trembling legs from his shoulders, pulling them to the side as he flipped you to your stomach. While still in your daze, you felt his hands press against your chest and around one of your legs, easily lifting your still trembling body from the ground and a better position so you could lay comfortably on the ground before pressing you firmly into the grass beneath you. You were taken by surprise, your mind swimming with enough pleasure and haze that you hadn’t fully processed his movements until your cheek was met with a patch of grass, leaving your arms pinned between your own chest and the ground. Halsin’s hands gripped at your hips, swiftly tugging them upwards and towards him with an almost desperate pace.

You let out a moan at the sudden change of position, letting Halsin rearrange your limbs with ease as you still were reeling from your orgasm. Halsin parted your legs once again, settling nicely between them as he realigned himself with your still trembling entrance. He entered you more quickly than before, still taking note of not being too rough with you, making sure you were comfortable with how he was seated within you before he began his thrusting once again. You whimpered as he picked up the pace, your swollen sex still sensitive from your climax as it tingled and clenched around the druid’s impressive length.

Halsin's hand traveled the length of your back as he steadily and firmly snapped his hips to yours, knocking you forward just slightly with each thrust. Halsin admired the beauty of your body, even from a less than flattering angle. The way your hips curved into your waist, the small dips in your lower back that lead to a steep curve in your spine caused by his movements, and the taught muscles in your shoulders that were defined from battle all enticed him even more. Halsin had admittedly fallen for you based off your merit and kindness, but he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful inside and out, especially when splayed out underneath him.

Your skin was hot beneath his touch, both from exertion and the heat of the night, and your body glistened under the moonlight. He had longed to feel your skin in his grasp for some time now, the thought alone keeping him up many nights as he struggled to subdue his own feelings for the sake of duty. The thoughts that would plague his mind of the caress of your hands had only intensified with your recent teasings, making the feel of your skin slapping against his all the more pleasurable. As his hand caressed the skin of your hips and back, Halsin had enough sense to flick the pieces of grass and dirt that had stuck to your skin from your previous position, lovingly brushing you clean as his hips were mercilessly slamming into yours. You felt his hand grip your shoulder, desperate to hold you in place as he chased his release.

Your breath hitched as you felt Halsin’s hand firmly grab your shoulder, giving him better leverage to thrust into you from behind. The sudden change of pace from soft and loving to frantic and rough wasn’t quite what you were expecting over the course of the night, but it was a most welcome change. Up until now, Halsin was focused on your pleasure and release over his. He was attentive and loving, making sure your had expended yourself to your limits, even denying his own release when he felt the luscious feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

But this was different. It was still caring, given that Halsin wasn’t ramming into you with his full strength, but this was for him. He was finally allowing himself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh that he had denied himself for so long. He was desperate to make it last, to have this night make up for years of denial and longing, but you could tell he was nearing his end. Your ears were greeted with a symphony of grunts and growls rumbling deep in his chest the harder he slammed into you. Although you were met with no discomfort, just a delicious feeling of being pressed into the ground by your lover.

Halsin’s grip on your shoulder was strong, simply given the size of the druid, but not quite enough to keep you from shifting underneath him. He released your shoulder, which was now slightly red from his hold, and slid his hand to your back once again, resting between your shoulder blades with his fingers splayed wide against your dampened skin. You let out a moan and a wheeze as you felt the air leave your lungs, leaving you with a deliciously pleasant sting as Halsin pressed into your back firmly, lifting himself slightly to apply as much pressure as he could without causing you harm. You were now securely pinned to the ground, allowing the druid to slam into you without the inconvenience of you slipping out beneath him.

You both let out a pleasurable moan at the new position, the angle allowing Halsin to slip fully into you and pound away at the wonderfully sensitive spot deep inside you that made your vision blur each time he made contact with the tip of his cock. Halsin was practically hovering over you, taking in every bit of your body as he barreled towards his own release. He watched the way his cock slipped in and out of you effortlessly, given his size, and the way your body graciously accepted him. Halsin could feel his legs begin to shake and the pacing of his hips begin to falter, stuttering every few thrusts as he came closer to his orgasm.

“Look at me, my heart.” His voice was gruff and shaky, but it was more of a plea than a command, one you happily complied with. Your haze was a bit foggy, but you looked over you shoulder as you remained pinned to the ground, your mouth hanging open in an attempt to breath as best you could with the pressure on your back. Your lips tugged into a slight smile as you peered up at the druid, the sight of him coming undone because of you brought you more joy than you could have previously thought. You met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, but there was more than just lust behind them and Halsin could see this as well. There was no doubt that your pupils were dilated with lust and pleasure from both your orgasms, but there was something more meaningful. There was trust, admiration, acceptance, and if Halsin’s own lust fogged mind could be trusted, perhaps even the faintest hint of love behind the beautifully bright eyes staring back at him.

Your gaze and the feeling of your warmth clenching around his cock was the final act that sent Halsin over the edge. An uncharacteristically loud curse left his lips as he hunched forward, digging his heels into the dirt as he thrust into you a final time. His hand lifted from your back and collided with the ground beside your head to keep from crushing you beneath his weight and it allowed you a sucking breath as Halsin spilled himself deep inside you. His opposing hand was still firmly gripped to your hips, holding them in place as his body shuddered with each contraction of his muscles. Each warm rope that spilled from his cock sent waves of pleasure down Halsin’s back, making his muscles twitch and tense with each burst. He released a low grunt every time he spilled, each one landing deep inside you, filling you with a gentle warmth.

Halsin fell to his forearms as he slowly fell from his peak, his head coming to rest softly against your shoulder as he panted against your skin. The druid finally released your hip from his grasp, the desperation and intensity behind his grip had finally softened as his body began to relax against yours, softly rubbing your sweat soaked skin to soothe the marks he’d left on your posterior. He littered your shoulder blades with a string of slow, loving kisses, placing a few to the back of your neck. You both lay there for a few precious moments, simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to the other while still connected, your minds slowly falling down from the blissful peaks you had climbed towards.

After giving a final kiss to the area between your shoulders, Halsin pulled himself from you gently, knowing you both were now a bit sore and rather sensitive. You whimpered softly as you felt him slip out of you, already missing the fullness he offered. With the bulk of his weight now off your frame, you finally managed to pull one of your arms out from underneath you, bracing it on the ground before hoisting yourself onto your hands and knees. Halsin went down to his side, pulling you with him with a quick roll as he settled for the evening. Your head rested along the expanse of his bicep, rolling to rest your cheek to his skin as you lay along your back, one knee coming up to bend and help you adjust.

“Are you all right?” Halsin asked as he brushed more bits of grass from your cheek with his free hand, plucking blades from your temples and your hairline.

“Very much so.” You hummed softly, your eyes becoming heavy as you melted against his touch.

Your skin had finally cooled after the activity from the night, leaving you with tacky skin, but free from beads of sweat. Despite the heat coming from Halsin’s body, you were pleasantly warm and thoroughly satisfied for the evening. You lay together, wrapped in each others embrace on the forest floor, listening to the lulling sounds of the night as you simply enjoyed the silence. Halsin’s free hand traveled along your body, gently caressing and mending any wounds that may have appeared during your rougher moments.

“Can I offer you a wash?” He asked after a moment, having run along your body several times. You looked to him, offering a gentle smile with tired eyes.

“That sounds lovely,” you murmured, leaning up to leave a slow kiss to his lips, “but let’s stay here for a spell. I’m not quite ready to return to camp just yet.”

Halsin tugged you closer to him, your bodies fully pressed to the other as the arm you were resting on had wrapped around your shoulders. You tossed your leg over his, tangling your legs together as one of your arms wrapped around his midsection. With the sun still below the horizon, you had a few hours of darkness left before returning to camp was a necessity, giving you a few precious moments together to simply be. You and Halsin spoke softly, whispering sweet words and blush worthy compliments to each other, caressing and touching and learning the details of the other. Eventually, the low rumbles of Halsin’s voice filled you with a sense of peace, causing your eye lids to droop and fall heavy. You fought the feeling, simply wanting to stay awake to enjoy the moment.

“Rest, my heart,” he whispered against your hair, “we’ll find more moments for each other.” He placed a single, gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away when your eyelids finally closed for the evening and your mind began drifting off to a moment of restful sleep.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear ,@beardedladyqueen, @pixie-in-a-moonlantern, @ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian, @ouranyaoi @galeofyourwaterdeep @mskinkyafro @jenn-majima @blobs-away @halsinsnaturepocket

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #halsin fanfiction #halsin fanfic #halsin x gender neutral reader #halsin smut #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

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whimsicalpolitical · 6 months ago

Note

kindly requesting a matty fic/blurb with him & reader fully clothed fucking in a dingy stairwell 😁

thank you for your request!! had to write immediately because this is super hot. mdni 18+

This should be disgusting.

The walls are grainy, gray painted wood, same as the outside of the apartment building. You know this because even through your shirt, you can feet it, scratching and snagging at the fabric.

It is stuffy, here in the stairwell, still outside, though sheltered from a muggy summer rain. Matty’s eyes are and glow rather strangely in the dim. You don’t even care about the lightning, not with lips at your throat, burning into your skin in ways you’d dreamed about the whole night.

Ever since Matty has been growing out his curls he got hotter day by day. Today has been especially hard, having to look at him in front of everyone knowing that you can’t drop to your knees.

That’s why you tried to be subtle about touching Matty. Tugging at his hands to make him stay behind until people were gone, to have one last kiss. Begging him to keep kissing you until he pulls away, ‘what are you on about’ he said with a big grin on his face.

You couldn’t possibly tell him in that moment. But the next agonizing hour Matty realized that you were so turned on. Your cheeks flushed, your thighs clenching and you can’t stop staring at him.

That’s how you ended up in here. In the stairwell of a good friend of Matty and you, your back pressed against the wall and Matty hovering over you, his hands roaming over your body.

“Want to tell me why you’ve been giving me ‘fuck me eyes’ the whole evening?” He mumbles, still sucking at your neck.

You shake your head with a giggle, grabbing his neck to find his lips on yours again. His tongue slips through your lips and battles with yours, obviously having the upper hand.

“No?” He asks, pulling back, “s’ a shame, I thought you could use your words f’me.”

He lets his hands begin to wander, mapping the shape of your waist through the material of your dress. “I can give you anything you want, but I need you to open your sweet mouth.”

Matty swoops a hand down around the curve of your ass towards the back of your thigh, the motion smooth and leading to the lift of your leg around his waist. He steps closer still, head bent down to kiss you again as he slowly rocks his hips between your parted thighs, showing you just how horny he is for you as well.

The pressure of his cock against your core even while blocked by layers of clothing makes you want to tear the jeans jacket from his body. Instead, you curl your fingers into the fabric and hold on, lips parted and tongues meeting, following the subtle motion of his length grinding against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you sigh into his mouth, “I’m just so glad you’re letting your hair grow, and your mustache is just,” you groan, licking your lips as your fingers with his hair under his nose. “You’re fucking hot.”

Matty laughs at your reaction, “that’s what’s got you all excited? My hair growth?”

You nod, “I can’t wait to tug at your curls,” you say this so innocently but you both know you mean to tug at his curls when he’s devouring you. The past weeks you had to hold on to the sheets instead of his hair, and it didn’t have the same effect.

“You want to do that, yeah? Want to keep me in place by pulling my hair ‘cause it doesn’t work anymore. Can’t control me anymore, s’that it?”

A whine slips from your lips as he reads you like a book. Your head falls forward, into the crook of his neck, hiding your flushed cheeks.

“I knew it,” his fingers pull at your hair now, your face in front of his as he grabs your chin to make sure you can’t pull away, “filthy girl.”

“Matty,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“What?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows, “want me to do something?”

He doesn’t leave you any room for an answer, his attention back to your neck and your chest, his lips and teeth alike tugging at your skin with a bit of suction or a bite that leaves you whimpering. You don’t think you’d need to see a mirror to know that blooms of color had to be littered across your skin, giggling lightly as he sears another bruise into your flesh with the heat of his mouth.

“Got a thing for hickeys, don’t you?”

“Only from you.”

“That’s right,” he grins, “decided to not be a brat f’ one night tonight?”

You shake your head, “I’m always good.”

“Fuck,” he laughs, “you’re definitely not, even tonight you’re begging me to fuck you in a dirty stairwell. Lucky for you I won’t be real mean.”

His mouth reaches the edge of your dress, nipping at your cleavage before his tongue teases along the line where the fabric meets your skin, wanting to taste more of you.

You’re craving his mouth on the most intimate parts of you, fingers pulling the top of your dress aside to reveal your breast to him completely, so glad you’d chosen a dress that hadn’t required a bra.

“Fucks sake.”

The cuss sounds appraising, further compliments paid to your skin by the stroke of his tongue against your nipple, back arching when his teeth closes around the tender peak. You lock your upraised leg tighter around his waist, holding on without a need for the steadying grip of his hand and he uses the freedom it provided him to cup your breast, head turning to the other, exposed with another urgent tug of your own fingers exposing yourself to him. His hips reared back, just enough to give his other hand space, angling under your skirt to rub you through the damp material of your underwear, lips moving back to yours when he felt how warm and ready you’d become.

“You’re drenched, love.”

He slips his fingers past the waistband of the thin garment, needing to touch you directly, and the groan he lets out is evidence of his approval, his delight to feel how slick your cunt is, digits dragging the wet of you across your clit. It swells beneath his fingers, shudders of growing pleasure making you thrust your hips towards his hand, begging for more until you felt one long digit easing into you.

“You’re really pushing my ego, bet I could slide right inside, without having to prepare you.”

A second finger has you leaning forward to bite into the denim that covers his shoulder, trying to stay quiet for the concern that your moans would echo in the stairwell and lead someone to find out what the two of you were doing.

Even with a slow pump, palm pressing and cradling your clit, you felt close to delirious with pleasure, unable to think of anything else other than how much you want him to give you his cock soon.

You reach for the front of his denim jeans, feeling the cool metal of the chain dangling from his belt against the back of your hand, fingers undoing the buckle with a clumsy urgency. Matty doesn’t stop you, lifting his head from your kiss-marked breasts to look you in the eye as you work his pants open, brows furrowing when you delve beyond the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his cock, length twitching against your palm.

“Jesus christ,” he groans throwing his head back, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, “bless you n’ your pretty hand.”

“Matty,” you moan again, feeling as if you’re very close.

Matty feels thick in your hand but he always fills you up so well without discomfort, the way he curves promising so much pleasure once he was deep inside.

You watch his eyes close for a moment when you give his shaft a firm squeeze followed by a slow upward stroke. You feel a small pearl of precum crowning the tip of his length, but it isn’t enough to properly lubricate the touch you desire to give him, leaving you to consider other ways to make him feel good.

“Hm?”

Reaching down for his wrist, you gave a soft tug to ease his fingers away, Matty relenting with a look of confusion and though your core feels so empty with the loss of his touch, the pleasant curling of his digits making you wetter still, you have other things you want him to do. He leads his hand upward, eyes darting from his coated fingers to his mouth.

He flashes you a pleased smirk and makes a slow show of sucking each finger clean one at a time, grin growing wider at the way you shiver in response to his apparent delight. He even licks his lips once he is done, further showcasing just how much he relishes the flavor of you on his tongue.

“Taste so fucking good, darling,” he groans, “why’d you stop though hm? Wanted to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good, need you though,” You say, fiddling your hand in his pocket to look for his wallet. “Wanted you the whole night.”

“Bet you did,” he says, helping you by taking the wallet from your hand and pulling a condom out faster than you would’ve done it. “Don’t think I won’t properly fuck you when we get home.”

You shiver, knowing that you’ll try different positions after Matty’s done with eating you out.

“Pull your panties down,” he orders, ripping the condom open and rolling it down his length while your panties rest on your lower thighs.

The touch of his cock brushing against your tender slit had you sighing in relief, eyes closing as Matty pushes in just enough for you to become a puddled mess. His hands are moving to grip your hips just so he can lead you back as he oh so slowly presses himself forward.

“I fucking love your cunt, baby. Always taking me so good, fuck.”

For a little while, all your prior urgency is forgotten, falling to the wayside with the satisfaction of just being so full, of having Matty leaning over you, to trail kiss and bites along your neck and shoulder.

Matty’s hands on your breasts and between your open legs, stroking the tight bud above the gentle thrust of his cock stretching you out just right is rapturous. You want more, faster and harder.

“Matty, please.” You moan, gripping his broad shoulders to signalizes him you want him to fuck you.

“Don’t be a beg,” he teases, but at the same time thrusts inside you harder before moving almost all the way out and slamming back into you. “Want it like this?”

You nod, your hands all over his bag, not knowing where to steady yourself. That is until Matty takes your hand and leads it into his hair.

“C’mon, try it, knock yourself out.”

You tug at his hair and you moan, louder than you’ve ever moaned tonight. You feel his curls growing and you already have something to grip on.

“Pleased?” He asks and you smile into his mouth, softly biting down his bottom lip.

“Very much.”

“Perfect.”

You moan into his mouth as you enjoy the intensity of him spreading you and filling you. You nip playfully at his lips, rolling your hips forward and back, meeting his long, deep, and demanding thrusts.

“Fuck, right there,” you breathe as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

Matty’s hands squeeze your ass, helping you move against him fully. Your wet, smooth walls rub against the hard veins on his cock, and you can feel him begin to lose the rhythm.

“Touch yourself f’me,” he says, both hands of his occupied, one hand holding your leg up while the other steadies himself. “C’mon, love, fingers on your clit, do it like I do it.”

You hear him. You trail your fingers over your sensitive bud, rubbing slow circles until you get faster and closer.

“Matty, I- m’ gonna,” you moan as he hits your spot over and over again.

“Yeah? Look at me, love,” he orders, “cum f’me.”

Your mouth gapes open in a silent gasp. You hold him inside you, your walls gripping his cock, before he can no longer delay his own release inside your warmth. With a final thrust, he clutches you to him and with a loud cry that bounces around you in your concrete oasis, his cock pumps and twitches deep within you.

Your head falls forward against his shoulder, your breathing hard and fast. You feel limp and sated, and can only imagine the effort it was taking him to keep you both upright.

With a tender kiss against his neck, you lower your legs to the ground, but you stay tightly wrapped in his arms. He holds you, your ear pressed to his chest, his racing heart against her cheek.

“I don’t think I can ever walk this stairwell without thinking about this,” you give him a small laugh.

“I would hope so, this was mental,” he says, pulling your panties up again, before removing his condom and pulling his pants up as well.

“D’you want to go home?” Matty asks, removing a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. You shake your head, appreciating that he leaves the choice up to you.

“Let’s stay, enjoy the people for a while?”

“F’course, anything you want, baby.”

He kisses you before heading towards the door, adapting his walking pace to yours when he notices that you can’t properly walk.

“Maybe we should wait for a bit,” he grins, sitting down. “C’mere.” He opens his arms and you take the invitation and sit down onto his lap, your hands finding its way into his hair again.

You’re lifting a few strands and letting them fall back down, watching how they curl. “Thank you for letting your hair grow.”

Matty laughs and you get a squeeze to your thigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

#the 1975 #matty healy #Matty Healy smut #Matty Healy blurb #matty healy imagine #matty healy x you #the 1975 fic #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann

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patchworkgargoyle · 1 year ago

Text

Booty 🌿

Steve has a plan, and Eddie falls for it. || read on ao3

Here it finally is, folks! My first smut for the ST fandom. I hope you like it!! Inspired by this post.

WC: ~4.8k || E || CW: Unsafe sex

“Please, Eddie?”

“Are you insane, Steve? It’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there, you cannot expect me to peel myself off this couch.”

Eddie heard a frustrated sigh and a small thud, imagining that Steve had let his head drop on the wall by his phone. “Yeah, I’m aware, I’m sweating buckets right now. But I gotta have the car fixed before tomorrow, I promised Claudia I’d pick up Dustin from the bus station and I can’t do that if it won’t start.”

Thing was, Eddie did kinda want to go and help him, heatwave be damned. They’d grown close in the months since spring break and despite his previous misgivings Eddie had gotten to like Steve. More than he should, really. He can’t help it if his queer little heart does a jig every time he manages to make Steve laugh in that eye-crinkling, head-tipped-back kind of way. Got good at it too, which made Eddie feel a great deal of selfish pride. And if he can’t take his eyes off the long lines of Steve’s mole-dotted neck, that’s his own business.

But this was something else. As soon as Steve called to ask if Eddie would help fix the Bimmer he couldn’t get the thought of him–sweaty and greasy and bent over the open hood of the car, his hair falling just so and lip bitten between his teeth in concentration–out of his dirty little mind. The things he’d want to do. It did as much to convince Eddie to go as it did to make him want to keep his distance.

He was a weak man, however.

“Fine. Alright. But you’d better make it worth my time, I’m risking my pale, un-sunburnt ass for this.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t worry, I will,” he said blandly.

They hung up after Eddie promised to be there in a few minutes, and he rolled off of the couch with a melodramatic groan. Moving in the muggy heat trapped inside the trailer sucked, but he wasn’t going to back out. Steve had sounded so relieved when he’d said goodbye that it gave Eddie enough pep to lurch his way to the kitchen to grab a few cold beers before scrambling into his van. He appreciated his own forethought when he burned his hand on the door handle and could hold a cold bottle against the spot. Fucking summer.

Parking in the Harringtons’ driveway, he spotted the Bimmer pulled halfway into the garage, the front shaded by the overhang in what must be an attempt to avoid the worst of the sunlight. The hood was popped open, but Eddie couldn’t see Steve.

“Ohh Stevie!” he sang, “your knight in shining armour has arrived!” He heard something thunk from the garage but got no response, so he wandered inside, trying to peer around the hood. “I come bearing gifts but they’re gonna get–”

Wheels squeaked from below and Eddie looked down, only to be treated to the sight of Steve’s legs, long and hairy and sprawled open, flexing as he dragged himself out from under the car on the creeper and revealing more inches of mouth-watering thighs. He was–oh fuck, Steve was wearing the tiniest cut-off jean shorts Eddie had ever seen, the fabric of the pockets poking out from under the frayed hems. They were tight, too, hugging his hips and, god, his bulge. The white tank top Steve wore had ridden up, too, exposing the trail of hair that dipped below the fucking shorts, but Eddie followed it up, along the grease stains and the swell of his pecs to Steve’s grinning face.

“...Hot.” Eddie’s voice cracked around the word.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie said, “The beer, it’s uh, gonna get hot.” Somehow he managed to not sound like he was choking on his own drool while Steve still stared up at him from the ground, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slight smear of dirt across his cheek and Eddie wanted to lick it off.

“You know where the fridge is, Eddie, if you’re that worried.”

“Nah, you look like you need a break. Get up here,” he said, waggling the bottle over Steve’s face. Steve chuckled but finally stood and relieved Eddie of the misery of seeing Steve on his back and not having been the one to put him there.

He popped the caps off with the bottle opener on his keychain, and Steve took his with a ‘thank you,’ downing half in a few gulps. Eddie distracted himself from the sight of Steve’s throat bobbing by peering over at the engine.

“So what’s the issue, doc?”

Steve pulled away from the bottle with a soft popping sound from his pink lips and a gasp. “Dunno yet. That’s why I called you,” he said, leaning on the car beside Eddie. “Oil and battery are fine, spark plugs look good too.”

“She been making a sputtering kind of sound recently? Could be the throttle.”

“Nah, no weird noises.”

Eddie hummed, then set his bottle aside. “Alright, let’s get underneath her then.” Lowering himself onto the creeper and sliding under the car, he said, “Could be a belt has finally busted. Got a flashlight?”

“Really need to ask that?” Steve’s voice got fainter as he walked a little ways away. “The kids insisted on a disaster preparedness kit after round two with the Upside Down.”

There was a tap on the wood under Eddie’s hip, and blindly he reached down to grab the flashlight Steve found. He tinkered around under the Bimmer, unable to wipe away the sweat that started to drip and stick his bangs to his forehead. But eventually he began to roll back out into open, but no less stupidly hot, air.

“Looks like everything’s shipshape, captain–” Eddie choked on his own words when he looked up and was met with a sight straight out of his wet dreams.

Steve stood over Eddie, his legs spread wide enough that Eddie had rolled right between them. If he sat down, Steve would be straddling Eddie’s hips, but that would deprive him of this new angle at which to admire all of Steve’s assets wrapped so tightly in frayed, lightwash denim. Mouth falling open, Eddie let out an eloquent, “Uhhh,” and Steve laughed, holding out his hand.

“Thought you’d like a hand,” Steve explained, smirking.

He took it without thinking and let Steve haul him off the creeper board and up to his feet. A kick, and Steve sent the board skittering away underneath the car, but Eddie barely winced at the noise. He was too busy standing so close to Steve that they breathed the same humid air. If he so much as swayed, their noses would bump together. Christ, Steve had pretty eyes, a bright, warm brown flecked with amber even in the shade of the garage and he swore he could see Steve’s pupils dilate the longer their gazes locked together.

“So, what were you saying?” Steve asked in a low tone. He tilted his head ever so slightly and those eyes held some kind of dare within them, one eyebrow ticked upward. Eddie couldn’t help swallowing, licking his lips, and Steve went from staring into Eddie’s eyes to down at his lips.

“Just saying that, that everything looked fine. Might, uh, might be the crankshaft or the–” Steve stepped forward just enough to bring their chests together, the back of Eddie’s knees hitting the bumper, and Eddie’s breath hitched, his voice cracking, “–the sensor.”

“Eddie.” The way Steve said his name sent a frisson of heat through Eddie, right to his dick, which was becoming a very obvious guest between them.

“Yeah, Stevie?” he whispered.

Broad, warm hands wrapped around Eddie’s slim hips. Steve worked a finger through a belt loop on each side and tugged, and Eddie realised he wasn’t the only one with a hard on when Steve’s pressed up against his own, pulling a hiss of pleasure from them both. Oh, shit. Leaning impossibly closer, Steve’s lips brushed against Eddie’s when he spoke. “I don’t care about the car right now.”

That snapped whatever faint, lingering reservations Eddie had. “Fuck, Stevie, please kiss m–” He didn’t even finish before Steve’s lips crashed into his, plush and hungry. It wasn’t long before Eddie began to nip and lick, his teeth drawing short, pleased noises from Steve’s mouth before he pulled back a scant inch.

“Fucking finally,” Steve said, and dove back in, biting back, making Eddie groan. His hands found their way to Steve’s sides, then, spurred on by Steve’s enthusiasm, he reached down and grabbed at his ass. His fingers wrapped under the hem and he yanked Steve’s hips in and up, rising to meet them.

Steve’s cock grinding against Eddie’s was a fucking revelation. From the way Steve’s mouth parted with a hot gasp, Eddie guessed he felt the same. “Hold on, baby,” he rasped, and using what leverage he had, Eddie hoisted Steve onto his lap, Steve’s knees spread and braced on the car. There was no way he could keep them there for long, but fuck it was hot, rutting their hips together while they kissed, wet and messy.

Eddie tasted the salt of his own sweat when Steve licked into his mouth and moaned, hands fisted into the denim in his grip, feeling more sweat beginning to drip down his back. The heat was stifling, but nothing compared to what started to grow in Eddie’s gut. One of Steve’s hands buried in his curls and pulled, had Eddie bucking up and whimpering around Steve’s tongue. He could come like this, dry humping on top of the Bimmer, lap full of Steve in those shorts, hands on his perfect ass, would’ve if the idea weren’t more embarrassing than hot.

“St-Steve, wait,” Eddie panted, whining again when Steve’s hand clenched in his hair again.

“Why’d you stop? Don’t wanna stop, Eddie,” Steve groaned, before a little more clarity seeped into him and he leaned back into his arms, concerned. “Or, shit, wait, is this okay?”

“God, fuck yes this is okay. Been thinking about this forever, man.” Steve smiled widely, verging on a little goofy, before ducking in and pressing open-mouthed kisses to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s arms began to shake. His legs had long since begun to tremble. “But, hang on, ah, I’m gonna either drop you or come in my shorts in like two minutes if we don’t rethink this.”

All that did was make Steve start rocking into him again. “Hot,” he mumbled as he licked up a trail of sweat under Eddie’s jaw, making Eddie swear and tip his head back.

Eddie’s knees decided to buckle right then. They shouted, Eddie scrambled, locking Steve in his arms and getting his feet under himself before standing, his hands still hooked around Steve’s ass while Steve’s legs clung to his waist. Steve’s shocked expression likely matched Eddie’s, before he rested his forehead against Eddie’s and laughed so hard his body shook. Helpless, Eddie joined in, holding Steve close while their giggling faded out. But his arms were aching so, gently, he put Steve down.

“Do you wanna stop?” Steve asked. Eddie shook his head.

“You?” Steve shook his. “Thank fuck,” Eddie said. He ran his hands over Steve’s ass, over the crease of his thigh, the tips of his fingers tickling the hair on the back of his thighs before guiding him close again. “Didn’t wanna let you go now that I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Steve dove into Eddie’s mouth with a hungry groan. The slick sounds of their lips echoed in the garage. With a tug, Steve turned them around and backed up into the car, his hands wandering underneath Eddie’s cut up Iron Maiden tee and clutching at his sides, over the fresh demobat scars, nails digging in bluntly.

Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off Steve either. He pawed at whatever he could, finding the places that made Steve pant and hum into his mouth. But he wanted more, because Eddie has always been a bit greedy. One hand snaked its way around to cup Steve through the shorts that barely contained him, pressing his fingers around the hard outline of Steve’s cock and squeezing, rubbing. The low, raspy moan he got for his efforts made Eddie grin wolfishly.

Head lolling back, Steve breathed hard and rose to meet each stroke of Eddie’s palm. Eddie began to bite and suck his way down the strong line of Steve’s neck, biting every mole he could find. “E-Eddie, I want you to fuck me.”

The words made Eddie bite down just shy of too hard. Steve whined, and Eddie lapped at the spot in apology. “I wanna, I wanna so bad, Steve, but we’re fucking filthy, sweetheart,” he mumbled into Steve’s neck.

“Don’t need to do anything. I, mmh, prepared for this.”

Eddie pulled back to blink at him in disbelief. “You what?”

“I’ve been wanting this for months and nothing was working! So I just, made this as obvious as I fucking could.”

“Months?” Eddie’s jaw dropped when Steve gave him a look that managed to be both fond, flirty, and frustrated. “I could’ve been fucking you for months!?”

“Or I could’ve been fucking you.”

That idea, as sexy as it was, had to be pushed aside before it managed to make Eddie’s horny little brain leak out of his ears. “Putting a pin in that, that’s absolutely gonna happen, but I wanna revisit something. You prepared?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah,” he said, simple and cocky and so hot Eddie could combust. Eddie tried to capture Steve’s lips again but Steve stopped him with a firm hand against his chest, pushing Eddie back a few steps. Turning, he closed the hood of his car and instead of twisting back around to face Eddie, Steve leaned on his arms and arched his back.

Now that was a sight. Steve’s long, tan legs spread just so, one knee cocked to give a slight tilt to his hips. The firm, round swell of his ass peeking out under the denim that struggled to hold together. And right on the apex of those pretty, biteable, jean-clad cheeks: two dark, dirty handprints. There’s even the blackened imprint of fingers on Steve’s skin. Eddie’s fingers, Eddie’s hands. His cock twitched against his zipper and he moaned out, “Ohhh my god…”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve’s smug smirk grew, and he tilted his hips up a little further. “I know I look good, Munson, but are you gonna do something about it or what?”

Eddie stepped forward and draped himself along the expanse of Steve’s back, rutting his hips into Steve’s and making him hum sweetly. “Don’t have to get bratty about it, baby,” he said. He dragged his fingers along Steve’s sides, letting his nails catch on the soft texture of Steve’s scars before dipping down and popping his button open in one swift motion. “Tell me how you prepared.”

He felt the shiver his words evoked run down Steve’s spine. As he slid the zipper down and slid his hand in to find Steve had gone commando–both of them groaning when Eddie’s hand wrapped around Steve’s leaking, twitching cock–Eddie nuzzled into the dip between Steve’s ear and neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and musk and the faint traces of a clean, fresh cologne valiantly hanging on.

“I, I got this toy. In Indy,” Steve gasped as Eddie pumped him, pulling his cock out as his hand sped up the more Steve spoke. “Worked myself open on it.”

“What’dya think of?” Eddie squeezed.

“You,” Steve keened, jerking into Eddie’s grip.

“Fuck. God. Alright, enough of this.” Standing, Eddie took his hand away and ignored the needy noise Steve made to instead yank the shorts down. Steve only bothered to step out of one leg, having to kick his foot when they got stuck on his shoe. It made his cheeks jiggle. Eddie couldn’t resist giving him a few taps just to watch it again before spreading those cheeks with his thumbs. More dirt smeared over Steve’s dewy skin, but that was only the opening act. The true star of the show glistened with lube and twitched under Eddie’s hungry stare, already loose and used and ready for him. He held himself back from burying his tongue in Steve’s hole, but just barely, letting out a low, hungry rumble instead.

Eddie couldn't move fast enough after that. He grappled with his belt, popped the button of his shorts and shoved them and his boxers out of the way enough for his cock to spring out without help. Then he stepped forward. Eddie let out a shuddering gasp when his aching cock met the searing heat of Steve’s taint and smeared precome along it, echoed when Steve sighed unsteadily as his head slipped up, up, up. Brushed over Steve’s hole once, twice, before catching on the rim.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whined as he pushed back, and who was Eddie to deny such a pretty request?

He thrust forward and sank into Steve with a slick sound and such little resistance that Eddie’s jaw dropped open in a soundless moan, eyelids fluttering at the hot, wet clench of muscle around him. Another thrust and Steve groaned thickly, his head tilting back so Eddie could see how his bitten-red lips parted deliciously.

“Steve, you good? Please tell me you’re good. Fuck. I wanna fuck you so bad, you feel so good, hot, please Steve,” Eddie begged and rambled, his hands shaking with the need to grab and pull and take.

“If you don’t fucking start right now I’m leaving–”

That was all the permission Eddie needed.

He sank slowly past that ring of muscle and Eddie didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed about the high-pitched, breathy whine that escaped him. Steve really had prepped, just loose enough and slick enough, but he still took his time. He wanted to savour this, the way he slid into Steve’s tight heat, how the feeling made his legs tremble and his stomach clench. Steve deserved the caution. At first, at least.

“Tell me,” Eddie demanded, needing to talk to distract from the sheer feeling of bliss of being enveloped by Steve. “Tell me about what you were thinking when you fucked yourself on that dildo.”

Steve’s head tilted back with a moan, his brows drawn together, and Eddie longed to bite and lick the strong column of his throat, but he didn’t want to get distracted. He wanted to know.

“I thought about your fingers, first. Those rings, fuck, they drive me nuts. Wish you’d worn them today.” Eddie gave his hips a firm squeeze, fingers spread wide to catch as much soft skin as he could, and grinned when he felt Steve clench around him and heard a stuttering breath.

“I’ll wear them next time, big boy. Wanna see how good they look when I’m jerking you off.” The appreciative groan caused by Eddie’s words was divine.

“God yes. Next time.”

Of course it was then that the phrase sunk in. Next time. Eddie hadn’t even noticed he’d said it but Steve repeating it had something other than raging hormones rising in his gut. He didn’t even have time to process the implication because Steve kept going, and started meeting Eddie’s thrusts with small movements of his own.

“Then I thought about your dick. Y’know, it’s so hard not to stare when you get out of the pool.”

“Did you?”

“Duh.” Steve shot a bitchy look over his shoulder. The usual power behind the look was lost in the bright red flush on his face. It completely fell apart when Eddie shifted and hit somewhere new, Steve’s mouth dropping open with a guttural noise that made Eddie’s cock twitch. “S-shit, it’s so perfect,” he said.

Steve’s head hung loose from his shoulders, forehead resting on the hood of the car, needy, lingering moans bouncing off the metal, breath and sweat condensing on it while Eddie inched further into him every time he slid out and pressed back in. With his palms on the Bimmer, Steve used the leverage to rock into Eddie, the muscles in his shoulders rippling under the white cotton tank starting to go translucent with sweat.

Watching his cock steadily disappear into Steve’s hole was addicting. He leaned back to get a better view of how he split Steve open between the grimy handprints he’d left on the globes of his ass, placed his hands there again and dug his nails in, making Steve’s hips jerk so that Eddie sank the rest of the way with a groan.

“God, Eddie,” Steve mumbled, “fuck, you feel so. So, uh, so good.”

“Y-you too, baby.” Eddie could barely form words. The tight pressure around his cock threatened to end things there and then, but Eddie closed his eyes and breathed, letting the fire and the urge and the want die down to a less immediate threat. But then he opened his eyes, saw how good they looked locked together, the way his darker thatch caught against the lighter brown hairs decorating Steve’s ass, both of them wet from the lube he’d pushed out of his hole, and jesus fucking christ he didn’t want, he needed.

Pulling out slowly and bracing Steve’s hips with a punishing grip was the only warning he gave before snapping forward with a loud grunt, the slap of damp skin a filthy echo in the garage. Steve cried out at the second hard thrust, choked off when Eddie kept going, his hips picking up speed.

“Good?” Eddie gasped. Nodding, Steve uttered a desperate, pleading ‘yes’ that made him fuck into Steve faster.

“Look so fucking hot, Steve,” he started babbling, his voice reedy with pleasure. “God, my handprints on you. Want ‘em to stain, be there forever.” Steve moaned and Eddie felt him tighten around his cock. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, I do, I do!”

Eddie leaned forward, draped himself across Steve’s back, and the angle was so fucking good, so much better, and he knew he’d started pounding into Steve’s prostate by the way his gasps had turned into a delicious mix of thin moans and choked out grunts. Fucking him into the car, Eddie let his hands roam. He rucked up the tank top, watched as the last of the dirt on his hands smeared over Steve’s perfect, scarred skin like loving and greedy claw marks. Finding a nipple, he pinched and squeezed until Steve writhed and squirmed.

Then Steve reached up. Buried a hand into Eddie’s hair, grabbed a handful and pulled.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie whined, his hips stuttering, the pain mixing with pleasure and zinging down his spine.

Steve chuckled, unsteady and breathy but so self-satisfied. “Thought about this… for so long, Eddie.”

“Thinkin’ about me so much, sweetheart. I’m honoured. What, hah, what did you think about?” he asked into Steve’s neck, lips catching on his skin, tempting him to lick, to bite. He did, groaning at the taste of salt.

“This. On your couch, by the pool, my bed, anywhere. Been desperate for it.” Steve pulled Eddie closer by his hair while he bounced back on Eddie’s cock as if to prove it. “Or, shit, bending you over that throne of yours and fucking you into it.” Eddie let out a pitchy whimper and Steve cooed in a way that could’ve been condescending but instead made Eddie melt. “But now, now that I know the kinds of fucking sounds you make–t-there, yes–I wanna take you apart. Slow a-and gentle until you’re a mess–”

He cut himself off with a broken moan. Eddie’s hips kept up their brutal pace with short, sharp, hard thrusts, the sound of their sweat-slicked fucking and and the jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle filling the room. His brain was nothing but static. The image was stuck in a loop like the end of a record left to spin. Eddie heard a desperate, animalistic whine and realised it came from himself.

“Close, baby?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded frantically, his lips dragging through beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He’d been holding it off, the fraying coil threatening to snap, his balls aching as they slapped into Steve’s asscheeks.

“You?” Eddie wanted to beg for Steve to be ready.

“Getting there, just, don’t stop,” Steve gasped.

Twisting, Steve pulled Eddie down to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, fingers tangled in his damp curls. Their tongues met sloppily. Shared panting breaths like trying to inhale each other. Eddie’s thrusts were starting to falter. He was going to shake apart at this rate. Might just shatter when he comes, the pressure and heat and need too much and so fucking perfect.

“Steve,” Eddie whined, and Steve’s eyes met his. “So good to me, Stevie, sweetheart. Feel so wet, fuckin’ beautiful. Nee–mmh–need you, need you to come, please baby, please.”

“Touch me,” Steve said, practically commanded, and Eddie wasted no time.

Spitting in his hand and hoping it was enough, Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick, mixing his spit with the shocking amount of precome leaking from the head and spreading it over his length. Christ he was hung. Steve let out a relieved sigh, which Eddie swallowed, smashing their lips together again while fucking hard enough that he rocked Steve into his fist. Steve started making little ah, ah, ah noises. Next time–please let there actually be a next time–he’d worship this cock in the ways he wanted to, the ways Steve deserved, but for now he pumped him mercilessly. Then, then.

Steve seized, a full-body tremble ripping through him as he came, pulsing in Eddie’s hand as he tightened around Eddie’s cock and he was so fucking gorgeous, plush kissed-red lips open in a silent scream, so hot and tight and, and, and–

With a hoarse shout, Eddie came too, rutting helplessly into Steve as he rode out the sparking shockwaves that also had him shaking, the wet sounds between them even more obscene with Eddie’s come slicking the way. He finally stopped when Steve’s whimpers sounded a little too sharp. Breathing heavily, Eddie braced himself on the hood of the car on weak arms to keep himself from collapsing on top of Steve, only letting his head rest in the crook of Steve’s neck where he left one final, achingly gentle love bite.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Eddie’s, their damp hair sticking together.

“Gonna pull out now, Stevie, okay?” When Steve just nodded lazily, Eddie slowly pulled out, both of them groaning at the feeling. And he couldn’t keep himself from parting Steve’s cheeks to see his come dribble out a little, feeling a great deal of pride and greedy satisfaction at the sight.

“Bit late to ask, but you’re still clean, right? After all those tests for the bat bites?” Steve asked, grimacing when he stood up. He was the perfect picture of debauchery, only wearing his rumpled, practically see-through tank top, socks, and shoes, with his hair a wild mess and sweat still dripping from his forehead. The dirty fingerprints and red marks starting to bloom on his neck and hips were Eddie’s favourite part.

“Yep, only time I’ll ever thank those shady government fuckers for poking me with all those needles.” Eddie grinned at Steve’s tired, but fond, chuckle.

Steve looked at the car with heavy-lidded eyes, then did a double-take. “Shit, I gotta wash that off.” There, on the shiny burgundy hood of the Bimmer, was the white splash of Steve’s come, stark against the dark colour. Eddie started cackling and Steve complained, “Dude, shut up, it’ll ruin the paint!”

“Gonna wash your car without these, Winnie the Pooh?” Eddie bent down to scoop up Steve’s shorts, dangling them from a finger. He laughed when Steve snatched them back with a glare that barely hid his begrudging smile. While he stepped back into them with a wince, Eddie said, “Interesting choice of clothing to work on your car, by the way.”

“Worked, though, didn’t it?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed when Steve smiled innocently and shrugged before he wandered off to get a chamois towel and soap. And it clicked. “You planned this? You lured me in with slutty shorts?”

Tossing the towel up and catching it, Steve’s smile widened into something smug. “Yep.”

“Wait. Is the car even broken?”

Steve just offered Eddie another sly shrug and started wiping his come off the hood.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #sac scrawls stuff

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dsireland86 · 8 months ago

Text

A LONG HOT SUMMER

Chapter 1

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp @dizzylmwahh

It was so freaking hot you swear you could fry an egg on concrete. You don't mind it, the muggy humid heat of Louisiana being something you grew up in as a kid. Your Grandparents used to live here and you and your brother would spend almost every long hot summer with them. So it was something you could handle. But this band; absolutely not. Their northern nature made them divas when it came to the heat and never, in your life, have you heard so much complaining and whining from a bunch of guys as you have in the last seventy-two hours. It was so bad you wanted to glue your earbuds in just to get a few minutes of peace and quiet.

The only one who seemed to handle it as well as you was Folio, and that’s because he has what your granddad used to call “fisherman’s skin” ; special skin that allows them to adapt to any climate. You knew he wasn’t serious, but now that you think about it, maybe he was right. The memory makes you smile as you enter the tour bus. Nicholas is the only one here, sprawled out on the couch in only a pair of shorts. “It’s too hot, Y/N.” The corners of your mouth lift at his confession. “You’re a diva, Nick.” He chuckles. “I am when it comes to this freaking heat. I’ll take Virginia weather any day over this shit.”

Shaking your head, you move towards the bunks, yours specifically, and dig into your duffle bag in search of a new shirt to change into. You settle for the dark green tank and quickly change, feeling refreshed once you're done. After a few sprays of your favorite body spray you turn around and walk right into Noah’s chest, throwing your hand over your mouth to stifle your scream.

“Fucking hell, Noah! Seriously!” Playfully, you slap him in the stomach and push him out of the way. “It’s not my fault you’re blind.” Your eyes widen. “I didn’t even hear you!” “Okay, well then deaf, too.” “Eat shit, Noah.” “Fuck you, Princess.” You narrow your eyes in a scowl. You hate when Noah calls you that. “I’ve been trying too, but she won't let me,” Folio says, coming up behind you and grabbing you by the hips. He plants a quick kiss on the side of your neck, making your heart skip a beat. The idea of you and Folio together has always made your stomach flutter. He’s been your crush ever since your brother introduced you to him years ago and no other guy has ever compared to him. You thought by now you would’ve told him how you felt, but since he’s never said how he feels about you, you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. Others have told you it’s obvious how Folio feels, but you aren’t one to just assume because of how he acts. Folio has always been a fun, playful kind of guy, and reading the signs wrong would be an utter embarrassment for you.

He kisses the side of your head, and tickles your sides, making you squeal and you elbow him in the stomach. He keels over pretending to be hurt. “Y/N, baby, please,” Folio begs, falling to the floor while clutching his stomach. “Fuck, you hurt me,” he complains, trying to hid his smile. You cross your arms as you hover over him. “Sucks for you,” you tease. He sticks his bottom lip out, pretending to pout, and lowers his head. That’s when the long tattooed arms snake around you, trapping you tightly against the body they belong to, and you know you’re in trouble. “Hmmm, my little bug is caught in a trap,” Noah whispers in your ear. “Let go of me Noah, or I'll kick you where it hurts most.” Your aggressive attempt makes Noah smile and he chuckles while locking one of his legs around yours. All, if any, advantages you have on him are officially gone now. “I'd like to see you try, Princess.” You growl in frustration. “Stop calling me that! You know I hate it.” Noah laughs again. “I don’t have anything else to call you! Unless you want me to call you a pigeon, or maybe piglet.” You grunt and try to break away. “Or how about little fox or maybe little fluffy bunny? Fluffy bunny! There it is!” Growling, you slam your foot down on top of Noah’s, hoping it will make him let you go, but it does absolutely nothing except make him laugh more.

After a few more worthless attempts to break free, you know you’re not going to win this game so you go limp, letting yourself become dead weight in Noah’s arms. “Uh, Folio, I think I broke your girl,” he says and you smile at Noah’s choice words. Folio grabs his sunglasses that fell and instantly jumps to his feet and comes to your rescue. ”You break my girl, I’ll break your face,” he asserts as Noah brings you back to your feet. You catch Folio’s reference about you and it leaves you wondering. His smile is so infectious though as it spreads across his face and you can’t help but smile back. “You're lucky today, Princess,” Noah smirks, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before letting you go. “You’re still a jerk,” you say with a grin. “You’re still a bitch,” he replies, poking you in the belly. Not everyone is lucky enough to get Noah's playful side, but you are. That says a lot.

“Come with me,” Nick says softly in your ear, bringing you back to reality. He slides his sunglasses on and takes your hand and leads you down the steps of the bus. The hot, humid air hits you the second you step outside, making the first outside breath difficult. “Wait, hold up, where are you two going?” Matt questions. My eyes shift from Folio to Matt. “There’s something I want to show Y/N. It's not far.” Matt’s eyes bounce over the two of you then narrow. “Just for a few minutes Matt. We’ll be right back and then we can leave.” Matt smiles. “If I were you Y/N, I'd be worried if he makes it last only a few minutes.” You snicker, holding your hand over your mouth and turning away from Matt’s gaze. “Oh my god, will you quit already, we're not sleeping together,” Folio states.

Your cheeks are red and Jolly notices. “Then why is Y/N blushing like that?” Folio turns and looks at you, grinning at the sight of your very red cheeks. He knows how easily embarrassed you can get sometimes, but it’s one thing he really loves about you. It gives him a reason to get protective. Jolly is laughing, but you can’t even look him in the face. “I’m just playing Y/N.” He detects the embarrassment in you and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist as he lays a kiss on the top of your head. “Alright, can we go now,” Folio pleads with eagerness in his voice. It has you wondering what could possibly be so important.

“Fine, twenty minutes. Don’t be late or we’re leaving both your asses,” Matt forewarns us, climbing up into the bus after Jolly. You and Nick both laugh. “No you won’t, Matt. You need us too much.” You tug on Folio’s arm, and he gets the hint, leading you further away from the bus. “Don't you hurt my little sister, Folio. I will fuck you up,” Matt yells behind you.

“Will you please slow down!” you giggle, trying your best to keep up with Nick as he pulls you through the woods, practically running. “I can’t. We only have twenty minutes; less now. I want to make sure you have enough time to enjoy it.” “Enjoy what,” huffing a laugh. He doesn't answer, so you stop suddenly, letting your hand slip out of Nick’s. A loud clap of thunder rattles the sky as he turns to you, noticing the enigmatic look in your eyes, “What?”

You can’t see his eyes because of how dark his glasses are, but you know he’s staring at you, drinking you in like water. You don't know if it's the thunder or the sound of your heart that's so loud but when he closes the gap that separates your body from his, running his calloused fingers down your cheek and his thumb over your lips, you sigh, knowing it's definitely your heart. Fidgeting with your fingers, your knees want to buckle, but you try your hardest to keep your composure. Something is very different about the way Folio is acting around you and it should make you question his intention, but you don’t. You welcome it instead, like the thunderstorm you know is coming, with open arms.

As you gaze at him, barely able to breath, you let your eyes wander over his face, taking in the little things about him that make him so irresistible to you, stopping at his lips. Their shape is perfect, matching the rest of his facial features perfectly, but the fullness of them, how perfect the bottom one is for nipping and biting, even sucking when the intensity of the things you would let him do to you gets to be too much, makes the thin fabric beneath your shorts wet. You clench your jaw and your forehead furrows as you fight to push away the not so innocent visions plaguing your thoughts. “You must be thinking of some nice things, your cheeks are flushed,” Folio points out with a smirk. Bringing your hands to your cheeks, you grin, slightly down turning your head, and when you’ve looked back up at him, your breath hitches when you see he’s removed his sunglasses and his eyes are fixed heavily on you.

Your nerves feel like they’re on fire and your knees are undoubtedly weak now. You know you look a mess, body already moist with sweat and your hair everywhere from the humidity, even though you have it pulled up, but that doesn’t seem to bother Folio. He surprises you by taking your face between his hands and leaning in, softly kissing you and stealing your breath away. It’s a long kiss, and deep, and you can’t help but notice the way Folio’s body leans into yours and presses firmly against it. You grip his red sleeveless shirt and take a deep breath even though your lips are still pressed tightly to his. The scent of him engulfs your senses and you suddenly want him everywhere on you. It’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep yourself together.

But the moment Folio slides his tongue across your bottom lip, making you whimper, you know you’re done for. You know what he wants. Slightly opening your mouth, he slides his tongue in and captures yours, pulling the moan you’ve been holding back from your lungs. He releases his warm breath over you and between his taste and the scent, the mint toothpaste he used this morning still lingers and it makes you pull him in closer to you, wanting to feel every movement of his body against yours.

“Shit,” he breathes when you part, but don’t let go of each other. He grins, laying his forehead against yours and slips a hand behind your head, bringing you in for one more soft kiss. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His confession surprises you and you wonder if there's a chance that he might tell you how he feels about you. Catching the twinkle in his eyes before it fades, you give Nick your best smile. He clenches his teeth together, making that tight jaw line of his appear, the one that gives you some of the best dreams of making out with him and possibly going even further, play through your mind like your favorite movie. “You want to tell me what you're thinking, baby, or do I have to guess?” Your panties are soaked now. If it wasn't for you still being in Nick's arms, you'd be on the ground. “You’re trembling.” “Ha, I wonder why.”

A small smile finds its way into the corner of his mouth. “Do I make you tremble?” His brown eyes widen, but his expression is serious as he drags his finger down the side of your arm to the front of your stomach, resting right above the waistband of your shorts. You slowly nod in response to his question earning you another smirk before he lowers his face to your neck and drags his tongue lightly over your skin, taking a small bit of it into his mouth. The feeling of him sucking on you excites you, making your muscles tighten and the fire in your abdomen grow. You moan as you squeeze his shirt tightly in your hands again, letting the heat of the moment rip through your body. “Your skin tastes so good,” he tells you when he brings his head up to face you. “I wonder if the other parts of you taste just as good.” You feel the heart spread across your cheeks, causing Folio to chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you retort with a smug smile. “I would, Baby.”

You grin, bringing your fingers to his lips and tracing with the tips of your fingers. You can feel that familiar tingle building up in the bottom of your stomach, the one that always comes when you think about Folio; the one that makes you squeeze your thighs together. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, biting it to keep from kissing him again, and Nick notices. “Come on,” his alluring brown eyes taking your breath captive as his hand takes yours again. “Where almost there.”

You come to a clearing and hear the sound of flowing water before you can even see the river that's just up ahead. But that's not what makes you stop and hold still. It's what's in the center of the clearing that takes your breath away. Before you, a few feet away, are two trees intertwined with what appears to be a heart formed in the middle, made from the bending of their long branches and green leaves. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and it literally has you holding your breath. Bringing your hands to your mouth, you stare at it in amazement, moving closer while paying no mind to another clap of thunder, leaving Nick behind.

“I had to show you before we left. I found it yesterday when I was looking for the river.” You are utterly speechless, not just because of the trees, but also because Nick has made it a point to show you this, admitting that two trees forming a heart reminds him of you. You know this means something big, coming from Nick. He's not one to throw thoughts and feelings around or out to just anybody. You turn to look at him only to find he's already staring at you. The look in his eyes makes your heart skip. “Judging by the look on your face I'm assuming you like it?” “I love it,” you croak, because speaking is proving to be difficult at the moment. Folio laughs “I knew you would.” Tears slip from your eyes and slide down your cheeks and you're suddenly super embarrassed that you're crying. “Hey come here, Doll,” he pleads, taking you into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck while he slides his around your waist, his hands finding their way to your bottom and squeezing it.

His strong tug into him is just enough for you to know he’s serious about what he’s wanting; you feeling just how hard he is for you beneath his black shorts. The thought makes you forget you have knees at all and you can't help but give in to his demand. It’s an insatiable feeling, the hard thickness of his length pressed entirely against your sex. You feel him twitch, as if knocking upon your entrance, leaving you wanting more. Folio grunts and stagers a bit, almost losing balance, but gives you his sweet lopsided grin with narrowed eyes, taking a quick look at his watch. “We still have about ten minutes.” You want to believe he's serious, but you don't want to assume. Instead you laugh and continue to play his game. “You really want our first time together to last less than ten minutes out in the middle of the woods in broad daylight? Not to mention there’s an impending storm coming.”

Folio looks up at the dark cloud-covered sky just as deep thunder rolls again. He laughs, shoulders bouncing to prove just how funny it is to him and you shove your hands deep into his back pockets, pushing yourself into him. “Fuck, Y/N, if you do that again, you're gonna leave me with no other choice.” He peers down at you, suddenly staring as if you're his next meal, and every nerve in your body is instantly on fire. You didn't mean anything by it. You're just playing the flirty game with him. But you're so nervous you feel light-headed so you quickly remove your hands from his pockets. “Hey hold up now, I didn't say you had to take your hands away,” playfully reaching for them to shove them back in his pockets. You giggle followed by a loud squeal as Nick picks you up and spins you, putting you back down after your three persistent pleas.

“I want our first time together to be someplace special. Someplace where we can be loud as fuck and no one will hear or care about what we're doing.” His expression is serious, but you know he's really not; is he? “Wow, okay, tell me how you really feel,” you say, shocked by his bluntness. “Okay, you really want to know how I really feel?” His question is more of dare than anything, but you play along anyway. “Sure, lay it on me Folio,” you tease. Leaning up against the side of a tree, Folio stands there staring at you for a minute. “I'm in love with you Y/N. I dream about you, I think about you constantly. I can’t stop. But even if I could, I don't think I'd want to.”

Folio drops his gaze, his soft brown eyes covered by the rim of his Harley ball cap. You know he's nervous. You know he's never been this bold with a girl before. But you're so shocked by his confession that you have no idea what to do. Your forehead creases and your mouth goes dry as you try to think of something to say, but fail. Is Nick being for real? When he doesn't look at you, you can't help but feel that he is being serious, and that softens your heart. Not acknowledging him would be mean and you have no intention of hurting him. So, you make the first move.

“Do you want there to be a first time between us, Nick?” His hesitation scares you a little despite what he just told you. Finally, he looks up at you with a small smile hiding in the corner of his lips and you swear his eyes are glistening. “I want a first, a second, a third… a million times… however many times you want until you get sick of me.” You let out a shaky laugh, floored that this is actually happening. “I don't think that's possible,” shaking your head at him. “Mmm… yeah it's pretty possible.” There's a quiet moment between you. “Come here,” Folio calls to you with a quick flick of his head, and you do. He brings his hand to your neck, gently sliding his calloused fingers down your soft, delicate skin, causing shivers to ripple throughout your whole body. You want those hands everywhere on you now and you're not ashamed to admit it now that you know how he feels about you. “What if I bring my ski mask, you know the one,”

“Yes,” you say, trying to hide your excitement. You've had plenty of daydreams about him and the mask. “I’m quite aware of it, but isn’t that more Noah’s thing than yours?” Folio removes his ball cap and pushes his hair back. He looks so good to you right now as you picture him coming at you with said ski mask. If he was wearing it right now with the same look in his eyes you’d be willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. Your skin heats up and you can feel it creeping over your cheeks as your heart pounds against your chest and you can feel damp fabric between your legs as you squeeze your thighs together. Folio notices. “Thinking about it aren’t you, Doll,” he questions, licking his lips. His warm breath on your neck as he leans in to taste your skin leaves you breathless. “Thinking about you and me together, and what it would feel like having me inside you? What it would feel like getting fucked by me with just a ski mask on.”

Folio’s hands that are back on your hips dig their fingertips into your skin and your muscles tighten beneath his touch as you try to keep yourself up before your knees completely buckle. “Alright, that’s enough Nick,” you say with a shaky breath, reluctantly pushing his hands away. “You know I want to, right?” he asks in a somber tone. “I do. So do I,” hoping he can see the seriousness on your face. “I want you too.” He smiles and you release the tight breath you’ve been holding. “I want it to be on your terms, not mine.” His face softens and the tension goes away, and you melt into the sweetness you now see. “Thank you,” you whisper. He pulls you in for a deep kiss and you feel a rush of relief being in his arms this way. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.” You didn’t realize how much sexual tension was really between the two of you. “Well, you're the one who brought it up,” reminding you with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you're the one who started it,” lightly shoving him away from you. “Mmm, technically your brother did.”

He taps the end of your nose as you think of a comeback. You have none. “Okay, fair point.” Folio smiles at you while taking a deep breath. “Let's head back, before Matt really does kill us both.” You agree and turn to leave, but stop instantly. “Wait, take my picture,” you say, handing Folio your phone. Grinning, he takes your hand. “I have a better idea,” as he leads you over to the trees. The thunder rolls again, and you start to feel the sprinkles of rain that are quickly turning into droplets. Wrapping his arm around you so that you're snug in the crook of his shoulder, Nick says your name and you look up at him. His lips land on yours and you fall into his kiss as you hear the snap of the camera go off, signaling he took the picture. “Hey! Nick!” Folio grins and takes off running through the pouring rain with you quickly in tow.

After one more show in Louisiana, one in Mississippi, two in Florida, and two in Texas, the heat and humidity has all of you done for. You’re ready to go home. There is more work to be done once you get there, back to L.A., but a much needed break is first. Matt already has his entire month off planned, Noah too. Bryan will be knee deep in photos and rug making, Nicholas is flying home to Virginia, Jolly wants to sleep, but Folio has yet to mention anything. He’ll probably whisk away quietly on his bike for a long ride or a fishing trip, where you’ll be left to miss him like an insane person. But that’s okay. Everyone could use time apart.

You yawn and pull the hood further down to cover your eyes. The merch hoodie you’re wearing is actually Noah's and you confiscated it without him knowing. But you know he doesn’t mind. Settling deeper into the couch and in the hoodie, you feel a looming presence over you, and you have a good idea of who it is. “Up,” Folio orders, tapping your legs. You obey, laying them back down on his lap once he sits down. “Are you alive under there?” “Barely,” you mumble. Your arms are crossed over your chest and the hood completely covers your face. “Alright,” Folio chuckles. “Well, are you listening?” You sigh. “Depends on what you’re saying.” You feel a warm hand slip under the hoodie first and then your shirt, sliding across the skin of your belly while making its way further up, filling your entire body up with goosebumps. “How about now; listening now?” You shake your head while smiling, but you know Folio can’t see it.

The hand moves from right below your breasts, further south to right above the waistband of your leggings, stopping as if to think, but then continuing down overtop the fabric and over your heated sex that’s throbbing with lust from Folio’s teasing. Instantly, you sit up and pull the hood off, meeting with Folio’s face mere inches from you. “How about now,” he says with that adorable smile. You shake your head once more, the familiar tingling engulfing you between your legs, begging for one more touch from Nick’s fingers. He grins, leans in and kisses you, while sliding a finger between your covered folds, feeling you squirm and wiggle beneath him. Just his touch alone is sending you quickly to the edge. “Mmm… I want to feel more of that from you,” Nick says, once he sits back. “You're such a tease, you know that?” You shake your head and grin, sitting back without the hood this time. “So, really, are you listening?” You smile big, and shake your head again, watching Folio’s eyes grow dark and wide. You know what he wants and you’re playing his tightened strings so well, that they are about to snap. “I’m kidding, yes, I’m listening,” you say, attempting to pull him away from the ledge.

You prop your head on your fist, staring at the man before you who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice you staring at him. Folio is beautiful, with all the perfect little things that make him so irresistibly hot at the same time. From the earring in his left ear, to the hoop in his nose, the large tattoo on his neck and the massive one on his chest. From his sweet disposition, to affectionate, caring heart, Nick was everything you wanted; physically and inwardly. He always made you feel safe and you knew at this moment you didn't want or need anything else. Folio was enough. “I know what I want to do once we're home,” he says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. You grin seeing him so excited about whatever it is he’s about to show you. “I found this really cool fishing spot up in Washington called Trout Lake Cozy Cabins. Apparently they have some of the best trout fishing there. I wanna take the bike and go.” Your heart falls at the thought of him leaving, especially so soon after getting home, but you’re not about to rain on his parade.

“That sounds like a great time,” trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. “Good, because you’re coming with me.” Your eyes dart up to Nick’s and you see him grinning. “You’re serious,” you say more as an affirmation than a question. “Yeah I’m serious. We need to get away together if we’re going to give this thing between us a shot.” “This thing?” Your eyes narrow and you sit up, scooting closer to Folio’s legs. “Yeah, this thing,” he confirms, licking his lips, looking you up and down as you move closer. “And what is this thing,” you whisper over his lips. Your eyes drop from his to his lips and you’re restraining everything in you to not reach out and grab him, pull him into you, and devour every part of his sweet face that’s got you going mad for him. “Mmmmm, it’s a really great thing,” he answers, his entire body still, but his breath is shaky. “And there’s an us?” Your heart is pounding so hard you wonder if he can hear it. “I’d really, really like for there to be an us,” he whispers as your hand grazes over his hard length that’s very obvious to your eyes at the moment.

“If you two seriously don’t quit, I’m throwing you out,” Matt barks as he walks by. You can hear the laughter hiding behind your brother’s tone and know there isn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice. But still, you and Folio back off each other, allowing some breathing room. “So, you want to go here,” you say once you’ve taken a look at the place he’s pulled up on his phone. It’s very beautiful. It’s rural, quiet, and private; it’s the perfect place for you two. “I've already booked “The Pines” cabin for us.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?” “Seriously.” “How far is it?” “Does it matter?” “It does if I’m going to be stuck with your ass, alone.” Folio pretends to be hurt. “I know you’re joking.” “Oh, but am I Folio?” You narrow your eyes and give him a smirk. You watch as his face grows a little anxious. You burst out laughing, earning you a ton of tickles to which your squeals turn into small screams. “It’s eight hundred and thirty-seven miles,” Nick finally tells you. “Whew, that’s a lot of miles. How many hours?” “Twelve and a half by the time we stop for gas and rest.”

“Wow… that’s a long time alone with you on a bike. I’m not sure I can do that Nick.” You try to keep your face as serious as you can and it works. Nick’s head falls and you know you’ve made him feel terrible. “Oh my gosh, I’m kidding,” you scootch into his lap and wrap him around you as much as possible. “I’m so kidding,” you say again, placing soft kisses all over him. Folio raises his head to look at you and now you’re the one who feels terrible. “You really have to stop fucking with my head like that. My feelings too; I’m sensitive.” The baby face he’s giving you makes you fold into him and bury yourself there. “I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest.” “It’s fine. I’ll just make you pay for it later.” You freeze at the sudden change in Folio’s voice, sitting up and staring at him. “Seriously?” “Am I?” The mischievous glint in his eyes is too much and you bite your lip, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much. “Come with me and find out?” Folio smiles at you. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out once we get home.” Getting up, you head towards the bathroom, pleased with yourself. “Seriously, Y/N!” “Yup, seriously, Folio,” chuckling at yourself because you already know the answer.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

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