#i have a lot thoughts about the afterglow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crystallinestars · 14 days ago

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NSFW Alphabet - Kinich

In honor of Kinich's birthday, I wrote a NSFW alphabet to celebrate. There's just something about him that has a firm grip on me, and I've been unable to stop thinking about him for a solid month. I'm posting this at 11:11 (my time), so let this also be a tribute in the hopes he'll come home on his rerun 🙏

Kinich x fem!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Kinich is quite good at aftercare. He’s attentive to your needs and asks how you’re feeling and if you need him to get you anything or help with cleanup. Even before you say anything, his keen eye picks up on your physical state, and Kinich will go out of his way to help you with whatever he can.

He gets you whatever you ask for, be it water, a towel, or a kiss, and carries you to the shower if you’re too weak to walk. He apologizes for being too rough on you and makes a mental note to be gentler next time. Kinich makes it up to you by letting you rest and taking care of your household duties the following day.

After cleaning up, if it’s not too late in the day, he’ll whip up a simple meal for you to share. Alternatively, he might stay in bed and cuddle if he needs the rest. Kinich enjoys cuddling after sex and basking in the afterglow. There’s something nice about holding and treating you with tenderness after such a passionate encounter. It deepens his affection for you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Kinich doesn’t have a favorite body part on himself, but he does prize his body as a whole. His childhood taught him early on the importance of having a well-maintained body. Without it, he wouldn’t have survived. It’s also his bargaining chip with Ajaw, so he considers his body to be one of his greatest assets. Kinich takes care to stay in shape, which his physically demanding commissions and extreme sports hobby make easy to accomplish.

As for your body, Kinich also has no preference. He loves you for who you are rather than what you look like, but he does have a slight fascination with the nape of your neck. He catches himself wanting to kiss it when standing or lying behind you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s thin and a healthy white. Has a slightly salty flavor. Doesn’t have a strong preference for where to cum, but he usually does it inside unless you tell him otherwise. He is hesitant to cum on your face because he thinks you won’t like that. You’ll need to tell him it’s okay otherwise he’ll avoid that area.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The first time you wore a swimsuit, Kinich was captivated by how pretty you looked. He already thought you were attractive, but something about seeing you in a flattering swimsuit and exposing so much skin made him pause and take an appreciative glance at you. His usual stoic expression didn’t change, but Ajaw noticed the subtle way Kinich’s eyes trailed down your figure, lingering on you for a moment too long.

Of course, Ajaw’s immediate response was to mock Kinich for checking you out, and the Saurian Hunter had to lock the menace away to keep him quiet. Though it would have been embarrassing to be exposed for checking you out, Kinich worried more about Ajaw making you uncomfortable with his blunt and crass commentary, so he did what he could to prevent that. Kinich also complimented your appearance, wanting you to know he thought you looked pretty in your swimsuit. (There was also a lot of fruit bribing happening behind your back so Ajaw wouldn’t open his big mouth once he was let out)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Kinich has no experience. He never sought romantic or sexual relationships, preferring to be by himself and taking care of his sexual needs on his own. Intimate relationships weren’t a priority or something he was interested in. Once Ajaw entered his life, the pixelated menace’s rudeness and narcissism kept others away from Kinich, so such chances became even fewer, though Kinich didn’t mind.

Despite having no prior experience, Kinich does have a working knowledge of sex. He sees it mostly as a means of reproduction, but he’s read and heard enough to know it’s also done for pleasure, to relieve stress, and to deepen bonds between romantic partners. He never really gave it much thought until he formed a romantic relationship with you and wondered if sex was something you wanted to have with him in the future. He looked into it more once you started discussing the possibility of being sexually intimate. Due to his cautious nature, Kinich wants to be prepared for all kinds of situations, so he spends a great deal of time researching guides and tips on how to have safe sex.

The Saurian Hunter doesn’t let his inexperience hold him back. Even during your first time, he acts assertively and confidently when exploring your body and learning your likes and dislikes but remains gentle. Kinich’s preparedness gives him a good idea of what to do to please you and keep things comfortable and safe so you can both enjoy the experience. However, as a beginner to sexual intimacy, he would still appreciate it if you gave him some guidance on how you want to be pleased and communicated with him about your needs. He wants to polish his skills to please you to the best of his ability.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Kinich favors classic positions like missionary, cowgirl, and doggystyle.

Missionary allows him to see your face and establish a more intimate emotional connection. It’s his go-to when he craves romantic lovemaking. It also makes it easy to kiss you, hold your hand, and bite your neck. Kinich enjoys variations on missionary as well, such as hiking your legs onto his shoulders or pressing your knees to your chest for deeper and tighter penetration.

With cowgirl, he enjoys letting you take the reins and move how you like. There’s something hot about watching you bounce on his lap and get off with his cock, not to mention the alluring view he has of your body. While you ride him, Kinich helps guide your hips with his hands and thrusts up into you when he gets closer to his peak.

As for doggystyle, Kinich likes to use this position when you don’t have as much time to make love but still need sexual relief. It’s a tad primal, and he’s fond of the tighter squeeze this position offers. Watching you melt and moan under him makes his self-control slip a little, so Kinich tends to fuck you harder in this position. He presses his chest against your back, blanketing your body with his to stay close to you and because he likes biting your neck and shoulders.

Kinich’s athleticism and equipment allow him to try some less conventional sex positions, though he generally won’t choose them unless you express an interest in trying something new. If you so wish, he’ll use his strength and flexibility to try out one of the more difficult positions, or even get out the ropes and hooks, but only after careful research about the associated safety hazards. Sex should be fun, yes, but doing so safely is still a higher priority for him. The last thing he wants is for either of you to get injured.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

As with most things, Kinich approaches sex seriously, but he does try to keep the mood relaxed. He doesn’t crack jokes, but his demeanor softens. He asks for permission to touch you, and frequently inquires if you’re okay and want to keep going, giving you a chance to stop should you want it. He takes your needs and comfort very seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Has a small patch of curly dark hair. He grooms it just enough to keep it orderly but doesn’t spend a lot of time trimming it to perfection.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Kinich is not the greatest romantic, but he does value an emotional connection during sex. He has come a long way in learning to trust and open up to people since his turbulent childhood, but the vulnerability and intimacy that come with sex and romance can make him uneasy. As such, Kinich only has sex with someone he deeply loves and trusts. Only such a person has the privilege to witness such a vulnerable part of himself.

Because he views most things in life as a transaction, if you entrust your heart and body to him, Kinich will see it as his duty to show the same amount of love and trust in return. He cherishes your trust and affection and wants to repay you in kind. This manifests in him holding your hand during lovemaking, openly looking at you with desire and adoration, and leaving soft kisses all over your skin.

He’s not the best with words, but Kinich tries his best to compliment you. It’s nothing flowery, usually just a simple “you look beautiful” while he admires your figure, or “you feel good”, and of course a whispered “I love you” during tender lovemaking.

As mentioned previously, Kinich values your comfort so he frequently asks how you’re feeling and if you want to keep going. He doesn’t want to force you if you don’t feel ready or want to stop, and neither does he want to push your body past its limits. Hurting or upsetting you is the absolute last thing he wants, so he gives you opportunities to leave the situation in case you want them. He’s very considerate towards you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kinich doesn’t masturbate often. He’s usually busy completing commissions so he doesn’t have the luxury of thinking about his sexual needs. If he needs to relieve stress, then his preference for that is through extreme sports.

Nonetheless, he still experiences the urge for sexual relief, so Kinich usually masturbates while taking a bath. It’s one of the few moments he has completely to himself, plus it makes cleaning up any evidence of his lewd activities extremely easy. Kinich is cautious, however, and stifles his voice and other sounds to remain discreet.

He usually doesn’t think about anything while jacking off, but when he fell in love with you, he caught himself masturbating more often and fantasizing about you in your swimsuit or of you touching him like this. He was ashamed of thinking of you this way at first, but that shame went away once you became sexually intimate. If you ever ask him about whether he thought of you while masturbating, though, he will be honest and forthright when admitting that he had and still does when you’re not available.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Kinich leans more dominant, but he doesn’t enforce his authority. He doesn’t order you around or give commands, but he can pin your wrists down and act assertive to get what he wants from you (all while being respectful of your wishes and first gauging if it’s something you’re anticipating him to do. Kinich would never force himself on you).

He’s fine with you taking the lead if you have an interest in being dominant, and looks forward to seeing what you have in mind for your session together.

One of his biggest kinks is marking. Kinich likes to leave hickeys and bite marks all over your skin, particularly your neck, shoulders, and inner thighs. It’s a primal urge he gets when having sex, and he takes delight in seeing his marks on you in the following days. It makes him feel like he’s staked his claim on you, marking you as his. Of course, he doesn’t go overboard and listens to you if you say you don’t want the marks to be visible. He’ll settle for marking up your shoulders or inner thighs where the marks won’t be seen by anyone except him.

Kinich is also into hearing you beg. He won’t go out of his way to tease and demand you beg for his touch, but if you do so of your own volition (ex: “Kinich please, I need you”) then it sets off something primal inside him. Hearing how needy you are for his touch sends sparks of lust through him and makes him eager to fulfill your desires.

He’s also into light bondage. Nothing complicated, just some scarves or rope to tie your wrists with will do (his knots are secure, but he makes sure the bindings are loose enough to not chafe your skin. Though he’ll tighten them if you ask). Conversely, he can use his hands to pin your wrists down (and lace your fingers together). He’s not into being tied himself, though.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Kinich isn’t against having sex outdoors, but only if you’re in a location that’s safe from potential intruders and wild beasts. He’s open to making love to you while camping, be it in a tent or under the starlit sky but won’t push you if you’re not comfortable with the idea.

At home, to avoid getting caught by Ajaw, Kinich prefers to have sex either in the bedroom or bathroom where you have more privacy. On the occasions when he gets a friend to babysit the menace, Kinich is down to make love pretty much anywhere at home, he’s not picky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

One of the best ways to turn Kinich on is to express your love for him. Heartfelt words of affection, acts of service, or thoughtful gifts touch his heart. He is overcome by love for you in those moments because you make him feel cherished and cared for, and Kinich feels an impulse to show you that he loves and appreciates you too. He’s not good at sappy love confessions, so this impulse manifests physically. What starts as a gentle kiss of gratitude grows into something passionate as Kinich’s need to express his feelings for you intensifies. This can sometimes result in him making love to you.

Kinich’s self-control and patience are high, but there are a few other things you could do to wear away at them. For example, being assertive in initiative sex. Straddle his lap and teasingly trace your hands over his body, give him kisses along his jaw and neck, whisper in his ear how much you crave him, and lust will ignite in his loins.

Alternatively, you could wear flattering clothes that hug your figure, such as swimsuits or sportswear (he likes to admire how nice you look in them), or press up against him and let him feel the softness of your body. It’s unlikely Kinich will snap, but his interest in sexual intimacy will heighten considerably, and he’ll look for an appropriate opportunity to satiate your carnal desires.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Kinich dislikes being restrained or losing control of his body, so things like bondage and blindfolds make him uneasy. Plus, half the fun of sex is being able to touch you, so being tied up deprives him of the joy of exploring your body and making you feel good.

Kinich also takes no enjoyment from impact play. He doesn’t hate it but simply doesn’t derive any pleasure from the pain, especially because his associations with being hit aren’t good ones. Similarly, he won’t hit or degrade you either, not wanting to be like his father even if it’s light-hearted play with the intent to feel good.

Additionally, Kinich isn’t into roleplay. He doesn’t see the appeal and finds it awkward to act as someone he’s not, especially in a sexual situation. He’d much rather you and he act like yourselves and show appreciation and love for who you are without the extra obstacles.

He’s also not fond of sharing you or having third parties join your sessions, preferring to keep things private. Only you get to see this vulnerable side of him, and he hopes you share the sentiment of wanting him to be the only one to see you like this, as well.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Kinich’s inexperience might make him a little awkward at oral sex at first, but he is devoted to your pleasure and does his best to learn all the ways you like to be eaten out. Whenever he gives you oral, he keeps his eyes fixed on your face and takes mental note of which pressures and touches of his tongue and fingers get the best reactions out of you. He wants to use this knowledge to improve his oral skills so he can better please you.

Kinich has no qualms about going down on you because he strives to make you feel good, and as such, will bury his face between your legs and lap away at your folds until you’re writhing under his touch. He doesn’t mind if you tug his hair or buck your hips against his face, though if you squirm too much or impede his progress by clamping your thighs around his head, then he hooks his arms around your thighs and pins them down to keep you still. Kinch only lets go once he’s brought you to orgasm.

Despite his transactional outlook on life, Kinich doesn’t expect you to give him oral in return for eating you out. If you bring him to orgasm through any other means, then he considers it even. That said, he views it as his duty to go down on you if you give him a blowjob. He loves giving you oral. There’s something so erotic about hearing your moans of pleasure and watching you writhe under his tongue, so he’s always eager to repay the favor.

When you give him a blowjob, Kinich struggles to keep his voice down. His eyes flutter closed and he places a hand on your head, not pushing or pulling but just resting it there to ground himself. The sight of his cock disappearing in your mouth is intense for him, and as he approaches orgasm, Kinich shallowly thrusts into your mouth, careful to not choke you but unable to stop himself from wanting more. Whether you swallow his cum or let him paint your skin in it doesn’t matter—either outcome is hot to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Kinich’s pace depends on what you want. He usually goes for a moderate pace, keeping his thrusts consistent and angled just right to hit those sweet spots inside you. However, he can go slow and gentle if you’re making love, or faster and rougher if you’re in the mood for a good fuck. Even if he goes rougher, Kinich is still mindful of your comfort and keeps strict control of his thrusts so as to not hurt you. His main goal is for you to enjoy sex with him. Getting himself off is secondary.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Kinich doesn’t mind quickies. Sometimes, when he or you are in the mood but don’t have enough time to indulge in long foreplay, he goes for quickies. Ajaw is usually the main reason for you guys having quickies, mostly because you want to squeeze in some intimate time before the arrogant saurian inevitably interrupts you.

Kinich finds it a hassle to work around Ajaw’s presence, so he prefers to send the dragonlord out on an errand or lock him away so you won’t be disturbed. To Kinich’s dismay, Ajaw quickly figures out that whenever he gets promptly locked or sent out on a long errand whenever you’re around, this usually means his servant is about to get busy with you. However, for once, Ajaw doesn’t object. He already had the misfortune of accidentally walking in on you getting frisky with Kinich when the hunter forgot to lock him away, and the awful memory is seared into the poor saurian’s brain. One time was too many, and he’d rather never see that again. Nevertheless, when he returns to Kinich’s side, Ajaw makes sure to thoroughly poke fun at the hunter and make his disgust for your sexual activities known.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Kinich is willing to take risks, especially for you. Generally, he’s open to trying almost anything once but only if you’re also on board with experimenting. Due to his cautious nature, Kinich will want to research whatever new kinks you want to try so he knows how to indulge in them safely, especially if one of you hasn’t tried these kinks before. He's open to taking risks but he's not reckless.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Kinich’s commissions and extreme sports hobby require him to have good endurance, so he has very good stamina. He almost always outlasts you in bed. He can easily go for three rounds, maybe a couple more if he’s willing to push himself and takes appropriate breaks, though three is already more than enough to satisfy his sexual cravings.

How many rounds you go for usually depends on you. If you can’t keep up with his stamina, then Kinich is perfectly content to go for 1-2 rounds (as mentioned, it’s the perfect amount for him). However, if your sexual appetite is big, Kinich can go for more rounds, though he would switch it up with oral or fingering for variety and to give himself a break.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Kinich doesn’t own any sex toys. He doesn’t need them to get off and thus sees no point in getting any. If you have toys you like using or want to try with him, then Kinich will learn how to operate them to please you. He typically likes sex without toys but admits they’re good for spicing up your sex life now and then.

He won’t object if you want to use toys on him even though they’re not as gratifying for him as your direct touch, but only if you know what you’re doing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually, Kinich doesn’t tease you during sex. He takes a straightforward approach to life and likes to do things efficiently, and pleasing you is no different. However, Kinich can be playful when the mood strikes, and this results in him teasing you by lightly stimulating your sensitive spots, such as lightly flicking your nipples, rubbing your clit, or sucking on a delicate patch of skin on your neck just to watch you react to his touch with a small, amused smirk on his lips. He’s got a smart mouth, so he might also verbally tease you by pointing out how eager you seem for his touch, but he keeps the teasing lighthearted and affectionate.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Kinich naturally tries to keep his voice down when engaging in sexual activities. His most common sounds are ragged breaths, moans, and sighs of pleasure. His moans are soft, low, and infrequent, mostly because he muffles them by sucking hickeys into your neck or kissing you. He’s loudest when nearing orgasm, oftentimes uttering your name right as he hits his peak.

He doesn’t talk much during sex, but he does give you heartfelt compliments and tells you he loves you as a way of expressing his gratitude for all the love and trust you give him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

TW: Menstruation, mentions of blood, period sex

When Kinich found out about your painful menstrual cramps, he took to researching various methods he could use to help you deal with them because he doesn’t like seeing you in pain. Aside from common methods like heating pads, pain medicine, and warm baths, Kinich also read that orgasms can help alleviate cramping.

He proposes the idea of period sex, expressing his willingness to give you orgasms if it means bringing you relief. He understands if you aren’t comfortable with the idea and won’t pressure you into it, but his interest in doing this for you is genuine.

Kinich sees menstruation as a normal part of life and reassures you that there is no reason to feel self-conscious or ashamed of your body’s natural response. Blood doesn’t make him squeamish, so he has no reservations about getting any of yours on himself. If it helps you feel better, then he’s willing to get messy.

If you agree to his proposition, Kinich will take great measures to ensure your comfort. He understands that your abdomen must be tender, so he keeps all his touches slow and gentle to avoid worsening your cramps. He lets you decide if you’re more comfortable with him using his penis or fingers—either one is fine with him. If you choose fingers, then he rubs your clit in slow circles and gently thrusts his fingers into you, starting with one and then moving on to two until he makes you cum.

If you prefer his cock, then Kinich will be careful and gentle with his thrusts, keeping them slow and shallow until you’re comfortable with taking more. He showers you with a lot of kisses and affectionate caresses to keep you relaxed and maximize your enjoyment of the experience. During such moments, Kinich focuses more on your comfort and enjoyment than his own pleasure because the experience is mainly about you.

He feels a sense of accomplishment when his efforts pay off in your orgasm and you confirm that it did indeed help alleviate your pain. Kinich volunteers to have menstrual sex with you each month if it’s something that interests you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

11cm (4.3 inch) in length and 10cm (3.9 inch) in girth with a dark red tip and a prominent vein underneath.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Kinich’s sexual appetite isn’t big, so having sex once or twice a week is enough for him. Because his work sometimes forces him to leave his tribe for days at a time, opportunities to make love are not as frequent as you might hope, but Kinich still tries to make time for it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kinich doesn’t fall asleep immediately after intercourse unless he’s tired. He likes to stay up and hold you, basking in the afterglow and letting you know that he really enjoyed this moment. He’s not one for idle chatter, but he does use this opportunity to talk about your plans for tomorrow, maybe plan a small date, or invite you to a special place he discovered while running an errand as a courier.

You almost always fall asleep before him (he gives you quite a workout) and he observes the way your expression relaxes as you drift off with a small smile on his face. Kinich ensures you’re properly tucked in before draping an arm around you and joining you in sleep, or quietly getting out of bed to take care of unfinished work. He always makes sure you’re comfortable before leaving, though.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #kinich x reader smut #kinich x female reader #kinich x female reader smut

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow)

summary: satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.

wc: 1.2k

cw/tags: gojo x reader, arguing, miscommunication, angst/comfort, established relationship, lowercase because this was originally going to be a short answer to a request but ended up being 1k+ words (oops)

note: welcome back gojo nation, today i offer angst that started as a fluffy co-parenting megumi prompt and turned into...this. based on the jealousy prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting !! hope you enjoy :D

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

"you think i'm jealous? jealousy is not in my vocabulary, babe."

"mhmm, sure. you're not jealous and the sky isn't blue," you fire back without hesitation. what started as a petty argument was beginning to boil your blood a little too hot for comfort, and you couldn't pinpoint why. thoughts poked around in your mind of your boyfriend's arrogance, the need to be the best, and simultaneous fear that you were going to leave him. but, in true satoru fashion, he chose to be an enigma instead of communicating.

"i'm literally the strongest being in existence," he argues and you catch your eye twitch in the rearview mirror. "what would i have to be jealous about?" a part of you wanted to just slam on the brakes to see if he'd go flying forward but decided against it because of the other occupants in the car. as much as they tried to act like they weren't listening, the two kids in the back weren't very good at hiding their snickers of amusement. "like, really. i'm super hot, i'm super strong, i've got the voice of an angel-"

"i'm just saying, satoru. your behavior back there was...weird. i didn't like it," you mutter.

"and i didn't like how that guy was looking at you like you were some kind of dessert in a pastry shop," he counters. "i just...it's fine. you don't get it." your stomach churns unexpectedly at his tone and there's a sharp pain in your heart that you don't anticipate. you know he didn't mean it, but the sternness of his voice was sounding more hostile the longer you talked with him. it made your face hot, not in that butterflies and daydreams kind of way that he normally made you feel. this feeling was foreign and intense, a sensation that made you want to curl up and hide. it was the same feeling as when you were about to exorcise a curse.

when you were about to fight.

"what's that supposed to mean?" the atmosphere of the car changes in an instant and you can feel the effect your five words have on every occupant of the vehicle. megumi and tsumiki's gazes dart upward, eyeing you nervously while a robotic stiffness shoots through satoru's body. "what do i not get?"

"it's nothing," he grits through his teeth, but you're too angry to back down.

"it's not nothing, so spill it," you say and his jaw clenches. "why are you so jealous of some dude at the grocery store?"

"i said i wasn't jealous."

"your actions are saying otherwise." you start relying more on your instinct to drive you back towards jujutsu tech because your brain was starting to shut down.

"what, you don't believe me? why don't you just trust me?" he's on the verge of shouting at you. he never shouts at you. it terrifies you and it makes the two kids in the second row shift uneasily in their car seats. you don't know what else to say; your mind was preoccupied with not crashing the car and trying not to cry from the stifling pressure in the car.

"i-i don't like you right now," you force out. it's the wrong thing to say and you can sense satoru snap before he does.

"please, be my guest. go with your little cashier if you like him so much better," he spits and your body moves before you can register what it's doing. one minute, you're driving down the street toward the school; the next, you're turning into the nearest mini-mall parking lot, putting the car in park, and slamming the driver's side door behind you. you don't know where else to go, but all you know is that you can't stay in that car with satoru when he's like that. he'd never do anything to hurt megs or tsumiki, but being on the road in such a compromised mental state wasn't safe for any of you. so, you start walking.

the sun was nearly down and you knew it would be faster if you just sucked it up and drove the rest of the way, but something about this petty little fight was bringing up memories you didn't want to rehash. after you make it past the first stoplight, the telltale hum of your car's engine pulls up next to you, coming to a stop while you continue in the direction of the school. punching the hazards button, he jumps from the driver's seat onto the sidewalk to call after you, but you shake your head.

"babe. babe, please get back in the car," he pleads and you keep walking. "i'm sorry. please, come back in the car. i'll drive us the rest of the way and we can talk."

"it's fine," you state firmly without looking at him, "i'll walk back."

"i made a mistake. please, please come back in the car." he gently grabs your wrist to stop you and you shoot him a brutal glare from the corner of your eye, seeing him deflate in real-time. "please." smaller footsteps approach from behind him, and your senses snap back into place when you see that megumi and tsumiki followed satoru out of the car.

"he was stupid," tsumiki says and her brother nods in agreement, "really stupid."

"and if you're walking back to school, we're walking with you," megumi declares and the sentiment is enough to finally get you back in the passenger seat, staring out the window for the few agonizing minutes remaining of the drive. once you've turned on the tv and stuck a frozen dinner in the oven for the two children, you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face of its still-burning sensation. you've just finished drying your face in front of the mirror when he trudges in like a kicked puppy. you feel him before you see him, his arms wrapping around your torso and his face disappearing into your neck.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers and you swallow a thick lump in your throat. "i'm so sorry for what i said and what i did and how i made you feel. you were right; i was jealous. just...seeing you live out such a mundane scene as buying groceries reminded me that you could have anyone you wanted." you turn to face him with a puzzled look.

"what do you mean, anyone i wanted?"

"you could be with anyone you wanted," he says quietly. "anyone but me."

"oh," is all you can choke out before you pull him as close as humanly possible, holding him so tightly that he'd be a fool to think you would ever want anyone else.

"you could have any life you wanted," his voice breaks against your skin. "not one where our best friends die before they reach 20 or disappear off the face of the planet. you don't need to have this one. you don't need to stay with me."

"has it ever occurred to you, satoru," you murmur, "that maybe i want to stay with you? forever and after that?"

"why would you do that to yourself?"

"loving you is not a burden, gojo satoru. i would find you in any lifetime and i would love you in every single one," you vow and your chest aches when he sniffles softly.

"i don't deserve you. i really don't."

"maybe you do, maybe you don't, but that's not up to me to decide. so, it doesn't matter because i'm staying."

"you'll stay?"

"forever and after that."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n

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sapphireneil · 7 months ago

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Pillow Talks // OM! Brothers Aftercare hcs

Cw: none really, just fluff after a scene because aftercare is SO important, based on a convo i had with one of my bsfs (mentions of rough sex, bite marks and hickeys)

Gender neutral reader!

A/n: I'll work on the requests soon i swear!

- Lucifer -

Man is so so gentle with you after it (in contrast to just a few minutes earlier)

PRAISE !!!!

Would definitely clean the both of you up and give you one of his shirts to cuddle into

After making sure you're alright and doing well he would brew the both of you some tea

Asks you if you would like to listen to a specific record and if not, he'd just put on something calming

Definitely spends quite some time in bed with you, cuddling and talking about everything and nothing, only going back to his work when he's 100% sure you're mentally and physically alright

- Mammon -

Would not give a single fck about the mess the both of you made, you're immediately wrapped up in his strong arms

He'd definitely would shower you with innocent kisses all over

Naked cuddles!! I repeat, naked cuddles!!!

Would also make sure you have everything you need, not leaving your side for more than five seconds though

Cracked jokes about what just happened!!!

Would probably spend hours just lying in bed with you, the both of you just scrolling through Akuzon, voicing out your thoughts about certain items you stumble across (he takes mental note of everything you mention to be to you liking )

- Asmodeus -

Spa time!!! Bubble bath especially!!

Would totally rant about how beautiful you looked earlier

Cuddles in the bathtub, facemasks and candles

If you would be sore anywhere he would totally massage it

Washes your hair and body for you, he just wants you to relax

When he dries you off, he'll wrap you in the softest towels and carry you to bed after he sprayed you with his perfume just so you still smell like him

- Satan -

would definitely question if he was too rough on you

Totally kisses any marks or hickeys that he'd left and brush over them gently

Cleaning up kinda is teamwork, until you curl up next to him, scrolling through ur DDD a bit

A book in one hand, the other arm wrapped around you, keeping you close

Makes sure to wrap you up in a nice fuzzy blanket too, he doesn't want you to feel cold after all

You fall asleep before him, but he eventually gets tired too, the book is now on his face, you still cradled in his arm, your DDD dropped next to you

- Leviathan -

Asks you if you enjoyed it and if you felt good immediately

Admiring all the love marks hes left on you

Cleaning up and then he seats you in his lap in one of his hoodies

Also quite literally SHOWERS you in kisses, extremely flustered

It's your decision what you want to do, rather its just cuddling, watching anime or him playing a a game, or even playing something together

Man is clingy asf, he knows that the afterglow is a quite vulnerable state so he keeps you as close as possible

- Beelzebub -

No doubt, this man carries you to bed after he cleaned your up. Bridal style. No exeptions.

Tucks you in carefully and would feed you your favorite candy from the jar in his room

Keeps you in his arms until you are fast asleep, then quietly goes to clean up the kitchen

Would totally kiss the bite marks he left, probably even lick over them apologetically

He finishes that cake you had started only for you to wake up to an almost empty plate of it, and a very sorry Beel

- Belphegor -

It takes him a while before coming down from his high, so hes perhaps a bit quiet at first and just keeps his arms wrapped around you, processing in silence

Veeeeryyy sleepy afterwards, but also cold

Will probably get another fuzzy blanket after wiping the both of you down lazily

Naked cuddles part II

Gives a lot of small tired pecks and pulls the blanket over both of you

Hes not gonna let go of you this soon, but that's okay, the both of you will take a nap first anyway

Heya everyone, this is it for today (kinda short im sorry) these are actually my first hcs posted on here, enjoy!!!!

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communicationthroughlyrics · 5 months ago

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Fuck Me Like You Mean It

Your best friend, unable to bear your post-breakup malaise, decides to take action. Despite your deep emotional pain following the betrayal by your ex-girlfriend, and your subsequent withdrawal from life, she believes it's time for you to move on. She suggests a night out to reinvigorate your social life. At the bar, your attention is drawn to a redhead and her brunette partner, whose infectious laughter and captivating dance moves stir feelings of attraction.

TW: smut, intersex r, wandanat, mommy/daddy kink, pretty smutty if i'm honest 18+

Word Count: 4.8k

You looked over at the two of them, Natasha's head on Wanda's shoulder, both of them watching you with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity. Wanda's hand slid down to Natasha's stomach, her fingers tracing lazy circles, as Natasha purred contentedly. You felt a warmth spread through you, a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time. It wasn't just the afterglow of amazing sex; it was the sense of belonging, of being seen and desired.

"You know," Natasha began, her voice a little hoarse from her moaning, "Wanda and I, we have a...a particular way of life. It's not all glamour and parties." She looked at you seriously, her eyes searching yours. "But we're good to each other, we care for each other."

Wanda's hand tightened around Natasha's, and she nodded in agreement. "We are looking for someone to share that with, who can handle us both."

You swallowed hard, feeling both thrilled and terrified by the prospect. "What...what does that mean?" Wanda laughed as your voice cracked in the middle of your sentence.

"It means," she started, her eyes dancing with excitement, "that we like to share our bed, our hearts, and our...adventures." Natasha's hand slid down to Wanda's thigh, squeezing it gently. "But only with someone strong enough to handle us." She winked at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up. You weren't sure if you were up for this, but the thought of being with these two powerful, alluring women was too tempting to pass up.

"Detka," Wanda started, an enraptured gaze setting into her features. "We know it's... unconventional, and we will date each other separately and together. There is still a lot to learn, but if you would like, we want to extend the offer to you." She paused, her eyes never leaving yours. "To be with us, to be part of us."

You sat there, the words 'dating' and 'us' echoing in your mind. The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. You had just had the most mind-blowing experience of your life with Natasha, and now Wanda was proposing something more. Your heart was racing, your mind trying to piece together the reality of what they were saying. This wasn't just a one-night stand, they were offering you a place in their lives.

Natasha, sensing your slight distress, chimes in. "You were the only one who caught our eyes tonight," she leaned forward, grabbing your hand and rubbing the back of it softly. "And let's face it, you're pretty amazing, from what we've experienced so far." You felt your cheeks flush, your heart skipping a beat. "But," she added, her eyes gleaming with mischief, "you can't just jump into the deep end without knowing how to swim."

Wanda nodded solemnly. "We are not just looking for a plaything, Y/N. We want someone who can stand alongside us, who can handle what we throw at them, and maybe even throw some surprises our way." She leaned in, her breath hot against your cheek. "Can you handle that? We will take it slow, and you have all the power and autonomy to leave if it ever becomes too much."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their proposal. "I...I think so," you murmured, your voice still shaky from the aftershocks of pleasure. "Can we... can we sleep on it?" you asked, still in deep thought about all the information just thrown at you.

Wanda nodded, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Of course," she said, her eyes warm and understanding. "This is a big decision, and we wouldn't want you to make it hastily." Natasha nodded in agreement, her smile just as soft.

Natasha stood, albeit shakily, and you instinctively reached out, catching her as she nearly fell. She giggled, her legs still trembling. "You know, we're not asking you to marry us," she said, her voice light and playful. "But if it's what you want, we're not opposed to it." A contented smile became apparent on Wanda's face, watching you and Natasha interact. Natasha leaned in and quickly pecked at your lips, before regaining her composure and standing on less shaky legs.

Wanda slid off the bed, standing before you in all her naked glory. She held out her hand, and you took it, allowing her to pull you to your feet. "Let's get you cleaned up," she said, her voice still thick with lust. The three of you made your way to a luxurious bathroom, the tiles cold against your bare feet. The room was steamy from a recent shower, and the scent of their combined perfumes lingered in the air.

Natasha turned the shower on, the water cascading down from the rainfall showerhead, creating a soothing sound that filled the room. She stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter first. You stepped under the warm spray, feeling the tension melt from your body as the water washed away the sweat and the residue of your encounter. Wanda followed, her body pressing against yours from behind, her arms wrapping around your waist. Natasha stepped in front of you, her red hair plastered to her face as the water rained down on you both.

Wanda began pecking light kisses across the top of your back and shoulders, before stepping out from behind you and sliding in between you and Natasha. You leaned down slightly, nuzzling into Wanda's neck. The warm water cascaded over the three of you, mixing with the steam to create a cloud around your bodies. Natasha's hands began to explore yours, her soapy fingers gliding over your skin, making you shiver. Wanda's eyes gleamed as she watched, her hand sliding down to caress your cock, which was already beginning to stir again.

Suddenly, thier attention was turned to each other, you left to watch as the pair began to soap each other up, their hands gliding over their bodies in a way that was both erotic and affectionate. The sight of them together was mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but get hard again, watching the suds slide down Natasha's curves and Wanda's strong arms. They giggled, their eyes sparkling with mischief, and you realized that this was what they meant by 'adventures'. They were a package deal, and the thought was both thrilling and slightly intimidating.

Natasha's hand reached out, tugging at your chin to bring your attention back to her. "Don't just stand there, love," she said, her Russian accent thick with seduction. "Join us." And with that, she began to lather your chest, her touch light and teasing. You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you, feeling the tightness in your chest ease as you become one with them under the warm spray.

Wanda's hand slid down Natasha's back, her soapy palm pressing against Natasha's ass, pulling her closer to you. The redhead giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she stepped aside, allowing Wanda to take her place in front of you. "My turn," Wanda murmured, her eyes locked onto yours as she began to lather your chest, her hands moving in circles, her thumbs brushing against your nipples, making them harden. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn't help but moan, your hands finding Wanda's hips as you pulled her closer. Wanda rose on her toes, placing her lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I bet you taste so good," she whispered, her breath hot and sweet. You felt Natasha's hand slide down your back, her fingers ghosting over your ass before she stepped closer, her soapy hand caressing your cock, making it throb anew. The sensation of the two of them touching you was overwhelming, and you had to lean against the wall for support. The steam was thick around you, the only sounds were the water hitting the tiles and the soft moans that filled the room. "I want Daddy to put me in my place," she whispered, kissing down your chest as a dangerous glimmer flashed in her eyes.

Wanda dropped to her knees, taking your length in her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. Natasha stepped behind you, her hands sliding around your waist, her breasts pressing against your back. You felt her teeth graze your shoulder, her breathing heavily in your ear. "You're going to love this," she promised, her hands moving to cup your breasts, her thumbs teasing the nipples. You groaned at the feeling of your tip now prodding the back of Wanda's throat, her moaning sending a vibration throughout your body.

The two of them worked in tandem, Natasha's hands on your breasts, Wanda's mouth on your cock, both of them driving you wild with pleasure. The feeling of Natasha's teeth on your neck was a stark contrast to the wet heat of Wanda's mouth, and you couldn't decide which sensation was more intense. Your hands found Natasha's hair, holding her in place as you pushed back into Wanda's throat, feeling her tongue swirl around you. A deep growl came from your chest before you slid your hands away from the redhead behind you and carded through Wanda's now-saturated chestnut locks. You grabbed the back of her head firmly, forcing her down onto your length, her gags filling the shower as Nat moaned behind you.

Wanda's eyes watered, but she didn't pull away, her eyes locked onto yours in a silent challenge. You smirked, pushing her down further, feeling Natasha's hands slide down to grip your ass, helping to drive Wanda's face into your crotch. "Mmm," Natasha murmured, her voice like honey in your ear. "Wanda loves it when you're rough." Wanda's eyes fluttered up to meet yours, and she nodded, her cheeks hollowing out as she took you deeper.

"Oh, does she now?" you growled, looking down at the watery gaze as she peered through her thick eyelashes. You tightened your grip on Wanda's hair, pushing her down even further, feeling Natasha's grip on your hips tighten as she whispered sweet nothings into your ear, her breath hot and moist. "Mommy is gonna learn today, princess," you snarl at Natasha, turning your head to kiss her fiercely. You pull away too soon for Natasha's liking, as Wanda detaches herself from your member.

"Printsessa," Wanda foggily gazed at Natasha. "Now it's my turn, you get to watch, milyy." The way she said it sent a thrill down Natasha's spine, her eyes widening with excitement. You stepped back, watching as Wanda took Natasha's face in her hands, pulling her in for a passionate kiss. You could hear them both whining and moaning, as Natasha's hand snuck down to her heat, circling her clit vigorously.

Wanda broke the kiss and pushed Natasha back against the shower wall, her soapy hands sliding down Natasha's body until they reached her pussy. She pushed Natasha's hand away, replacing it with her own, her thumb rubbing circles around Natasha's clit. Natasha gasped, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. You watched, mesmerized, as Wanda's hand moved faster and faster, Natasha's legs starting to shake. The water was now a mix of soap and desire, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing in the tiles. "Mama will give you this one," Wanda growled at her lover, hitting all the sweet spots she knew would result in Natasha's climax.

Natasha's moans grew louder, her body trembling under Wanda's touch. Her hands grabbed onto the shower wall for support, her nails digging into the tiles. You could see her getting closer, her breaths coming in short gasps. Wanda looked at you, her eyes dark with lust. "Isn't our princess beautiful, Y/N?" she moaned seductively, keeping her eyes trained on you as Natasha began to clench her wet heat around Wanda's deft fingers.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from Natasha's contorted face of pleasure. "Very," you husked, your voice thick with arousal. Wanda smirked before turning her attention back to Natasha, her fingers moving with purpose. Natasha's eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and you watched as she bit her lip, trying to hold back. But Wanda was relentless, her thumb pressing harder, her other hand sliding into Natasha's mouth, muffling her cries. You stepped behind Wanda, rubbing yourself through her folds, causing her to momentarily falter, just as Natasha peaked and came with a rush over Wanda's fingers.

"Fuck," Wanda leaned her back against your chest as you continued to tease her with your cock, prodding and coating yourself in her arousal. Natasha leaned heavily against the shower wall, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. "You're so...good," she murmured, her eyes glazed over. You couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest. Natasha slid down to the bench in the corner, her hazy gaze following the two of you who now stood in the center of the shower. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," Wanda began chanting as you continued to tease and work her up.

Her hands found your ass, her nails digging in, urging you to fill her. you laughed darkly at her building desperation, your nose sliding in behind her ear as you kissed up and down her neck. "You think you're in control, don't you, Wanda?" you growl, nipping at her neck as you pull away. She moaned at the loss, quickly turning around to face you.

"Show me that I'm not?" she challenged a glimmer in her eyes. You smirked, gripping her hips and spinning her around so she faced Natasha. "I think Natasha would love to see how good you can be," you whispered, your hand sliding around Wanda's waist to guide her back onto Natasha's awaiting mouth. Natasha looked up at you with a mix of excitement and trepidation, before she leaned forward, trapping Wanda in a passionate liplock. You watched briefly as the two kissed before you lined yourself up with Wanda's waiting hole, and rammed your full length into her.

Wanda gasped, her eyes rolling back as Natasha pulled Wanda's bottom lip with her teeth. You took the opportunity to pull almost out, only to slam into her, feeling her tightness clench around you as she moaned into Natasha's mouth. Natasha's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away, instead, her tongue darted out to taste Wanda's bottom lip. You watched in amazement as Natasha began to suck on Wanda's lip, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as Wanda's moans grew louder.

You felt your orgasm building, Wanda's pussy around your cock too much to handle. "Oh fuck," you groaned, your hands tightening on Wanda's hips as you began to thrust faster. Wanda pulled away from the redhead, her moans and gasps becoming too much for her to continue kissing her wife before you. Wrapping your hand in the auburn locks that were pushed to the side of Wanda's face, you pulled her back by her hair till her back rested against your front, changing the angle with which you grazed the spongy, soft spot within her.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she let out a deep, primal scream that was quickly cut short by your hand sliding around to her throat, squeezing slightly, her eyes flying open to watch you. Taking the opportunity before you, you set a torrid pace as you licked and sucked at Wanda's neck, marking up and down her throat as Natasha whimpered in the corner. Wanda's hand snaked down to Natasha's pussy, her fingers easily slipping into the sopping wetness as Natasha's hips jerked up to meet them.

"You see that, our princess loves to watch mommy get railed," you growled in Wanda's ear. Natasha's eyes were glued to the scene before her, her cheeks flushed as she watched you claim Wanda's body. Wanda's eyes rolled back in pleasure, her breaths coming in quick pants as you hammered into her. The sight of Natasha's fingers moving in and out of herself was too much, and you could feel Wanda's walls tighten around you. "Look at her, Wanda," you bark in her ear, directing her attention to the redhead as she milked her fingers with her sloppy cunt.

Wanda's gaze snapped to Natasha, her eyes wide with desire. Natasha's hand worked faster, her other hand reaching up to pinch her nipple. You could feel Wanda's orgasm approaching, her moans growing louder. "That's it," you encouraged your voice a dark whisper. "Make mommy cum for daddy." Wanda's hand began to move faster, her hips grinding back into you as Natasha watched, her eyes hooded with lust.

Natasha suddenly moved to her knees, wrapping her arms around Wanda's thighs as she began to lick at her clit, while simultaneously cupping your sack, massaging them, and sending your senses into overdrive. Wanda's eyes widened, and she threw her head back, a guttural moan escaping her lips as Natasha's tongue worked her clit in a way that only Natasha knew how to do. You watched in amazement as Natasha's tongue darted in and out of Wanda's folds, her face a mask of pure desire. You could feel Natasha's tongue and lips occasionally grace your hardened member, sending a shudder down your spine.

Wanda's legs began to quiver as Natasha's mouth worked its magic, her eyes rolling back in her head as she got closer and closer to the edge. You took a moment to appreciate the view, the two most beautiful women you've ever seen pleasuring each other and you. Your grip on Wanda's hair tightened as you watched Natasha's nimble tongue work Wanda's clit, her other hand now stroking her own, the sight of Natasha's knuckles disappearing into herself was too much to handle. "Fuck," Wanda breathed out, her eyes snapping open to meet yours. "I'm going to cum."

"Not until I say, mama," you command, thrusting yourself harder into her now gaping hole. "Fuck, it's like you were made for me." you groaned at the feeling of her walls pulsing around you. Natasha smirks up at you, her eyes glazed with arousal as she continues to lick and kiss Wanda's clit.

Wanda's nails dig into your forearm, her body taut with the effort of holding off. "Fuck, please," she pants out, her voice strained. Natasha giggles, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through Wanda, her entire being shuddering in your grasp.

"Look at her, Natasha," you say, your voice thick with lust. "So eager for it." Natasha smiles up at you, her eyes gleaming with a hunger that matches your own. You slow your pace, teasing Wanda's clit before sliding your hand back up to rest around her throat. Wanda's eyes roll back in her head, and she lets out a low, guttural moan.

"Now," you command, and Natasha's mouth clamps down on Wanda's clit, her tongue flicking rapidly as she sucks and licks. Wanda's legs give out, and you hold her up with one arm wrapped around her chest, the other tightening around her throat. You feel her pussy clamp down on your cock as she cums, her body shaking with the intensity of her orgasm.

"Fuck, Y/N," Wanda started. "Oh my god," she whispered, her voice ragged with pleasure. You chuckled darkly, feeling her spasms around your cock as Natasha's tongue danced around her clit. You thrust into Wanda a few more times, her pussy clenching around you as the aftershocks of her orgasm rolled through her body. "It's too much," she whined, her head leaning back to rest on your shoulder.

"You wanted me to prove who's in control Wanda," you nipped at her neck, before working out to her shoulder. "I'm gonna show you why it isn't you." With a brutal force, you thrust into her one more time before pulling out, spinning her around before leaning down far enough that you could pick the woman up, sliding her up the slick shower wall, her thighs now on either side of your face. The show of power elicited a whimper from both women, Natasha moving over to wrap her lips around you as you buried your face between Wanda’s legs.

The taste of Wanda's sweetness mixed with Natasha's lingering flavor on your tongue was heavenly. You began to lick and kiss along Wanda's slit, her breath hitching as she looked down at you. "Fuck," she whispered, her hands gripping the wall above her head. Natasha watched, her eyes hooded with lust as she took you back into her mouth, her hand reaching down to play with her clit. The sight was incredibly erotic, and you felt your climax building.

You worked Wanda's pussy with your tongue, her legs trembling with each stroke. You could feel Natasha's hands on your ass, her nails digging in as she urged you to go deeper, faster. The water cascaded down your bodies, making everything slick and slippery as you moved in tandem with Natasha's bobbing head. Wanda's moans grew louder, her hips rolling against your face as she approached her peak. "I'm going to cum again," she gasped, her voice strained with pleasure.

"Ask for it, baby," you reached up, tweaking Wanda's nipple before returning it to its place on her thigh. "Beg for it." You could feel Natasha's tongue working you over as Wanda threw her head back, her breath coming in short pants.

"Please," she whimpered, her body tightening around your face. "Please, let me cum."

"It doesn't sound like you want it," you pulled away from her drenched folds, looking up at her heaving chest. You watched the frustration build in Wanda's eyes, her body on the brink of release.

"Oh, please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. Natasha's eyes flickered to Wanda's, the look on her face a mix of amusement and arousal as she watched her wife's need. You reached down, pushing Natasha away gently, fully intending for Wanda to be the one to finish you off this time.

Wanda looked at you with a fiery gaze, her eyes flashing with desire. "I want it," she breathed, her voice hoarse from the screams of pleasure she'd released moments ago. "Please, Y/N," You tut, a smirk playing on your lips as you stop your ministrations. Looking up at her, her legs still wrapped around your shoulders.

"That's not my name."

Wanda's eyes lock onto yours, a fierce desperation for release behind them. "Daddy, please. Please, fuck. Fuck me, let me cum daddy. Let me show you how good you make me feel." The way she says 'daddy' sends a jolt straight to your cock, and you can't resist the urge to push back into Natasha's mouth, letting her deep-throat you once more.

Her eyes water at the sudden pressure, but she takes it, her throat convulsing around you as she swallows you whole. You look back up at Wanda, your gaze intense. "You want it?" Your question, your voice low and gruff. She nods, her eyes pleading. "Then tell me how much you want it," you demand, your teeth clenched as you hold back your orgasm.

"I want it so badly," Wanda gasps, her voice a whine. "I need it, daddy." Natasha's eyes dart between the two of you, the word 'daddy' spiking her arousal as she continues to suck you off, her hand sliding down to her pussy, mimicking the movements you're about to make inside Wanda. You can feel Natasha's warm breath on your shaft as she takes you deep into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip.

With a smirk, you release yourself from Natasha's mouth, her tongue peeking out to catch the last droplets of pre-cum. You slide Wanda down the wall, turning her around so she's now facing Natasha. You lift her slightly, Natasha's mouth immediately finding Wanda's, her tongue slipping inside with ease. Wanda's legs feel like they are about to give way, so you pull up on her waist before driving yourself inside her pulsing warmth.

The sound of skin slapping skin and water bouncing off bodies fills the air as you begin to thrust, your movements in sync with Natasha's tongue. Wanda's moans are muffled by Natasha's mouth, but you can feel her body tightening around you, her orgasm approaching again. Natasha breaks the kiss, her eyes meeting yours, a question in them. You nod, and she moves her mouth down to Wanda's neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks in a line down to her collarbone.

"Gonna fill this bratty pussy fucking full, mama," you grunt, leaning down slightly to reach around and grasp one of Wanda's nipples, rolling it between your fingertips. You hear Natasha's breath hitch in response, her hand moving faster between her legs. Wanda's eyes roll back in her head, and she nods, unable to form coherent words. Pounding into Wanda's pussy, you worked yourself up quickly to your high.

Wanda's orgasm hits her like a ton of bricks, her body convulsing around you as Natasha watches with a mix of awe and envy. Natasha's eyes never leave yours as she brings herself to climax, her hand moving in a blur as her cunt spasms around her fingers. Wanda's pussy tightens around you, her nails digging into Natasha's shoulders as she rides out the waves of pleasure. You feel your orgasm approaching, your cock swelling within her.

"Fuck," Wanda gasps, her eyes rolling back as Natasha's mouth finds her nipple, biting down gently. You can't hold back anymore, your hips jerking as you fill Wanda with your cum, her body shaking with the intensity of it all. Natasha's hand slows, her orgasm subsiding as she watches you claim Wanda's body. Wanda's head falls back, her body going slack against Natasha's, both of them panting heavily.

You pull out of Wanda, your cock still pulsing with the aftermath of your release. Natasha's eyes never leave yours as she takes you back into her mouth, eagerly cleaning every drop of cum from your shaft. You groan, the sensation almost too much after the intense climax. Wanda's legs give out, and Natasha catches her, the two of them now kissing deeply, sharing your taste. The sight is so erotic that you feel yourself hardening again. A deep groan leaves you as you watch them, feeling a mix of possessiveness and arousal that you've never felt before.

You stepped back, pumping yourself as they continued. Wanda's hand slid down Natasha's body, reaching between her legs to continue the gentle ministrations that had brought her to the edge of pleasure. Natasha's eyes never left yours as she licked and kissed her way down Wanda's chest, her tongue tracing the path of your marks. You watched them, the two of them so in sync, so lost in each other's touch, and felt a fierce desire to claim them both, to show them that you were just as much a part of this as they were.

Finally, you felt like you were where you belonged. "Yes." was all you said, the two women before you stopped as they looked at you. "I say yes, to it all." Natasha's eyes sparkled with excitement, while Wanda's were filled with a mix of satisfaction and lust. They shared a knowing smile before Natasha pulled away from Wanda's embrace and moved towards you. She placed her hands on your shoulders, looking up at you with a seductive gaze.

"Are you sure, love?" she asked, her voice filled with a hint of concern. "This isn't a decision to be made lightly."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the decision but also the thrill of the unknown. "I've never felt more sure," you replied, your voice firm. Wanda's smile grew wider, her eyes darkening as her soapy hand slid down your chest.

"Good," she purred, moving closer. Natasha's hand reached for your cock, now standing at attention again, stroking it gently. "We're going to take such good care of you," she whispered. You groaned at the feeling, your head rolling back as they began to lather you up.

Wanda's breasts pressed against your chest, her soapy hands sliding up and down your body, as she wrapped her arms around your neck, kissing you deeply. Natasha stood behind you, gently working thier shampoo into your tousled hair, massaging your head sensually. The combination of their hands and lips on your skin was almost too much to handle, but you managed to keep your composure, your arousal simmering just beneath the surface.

Natasha pecked at your shoulders her hands tracing the muscles in your back as you continued your breathless affair with Wanda. Her touch was light and feathery, sending shivers down your spine. You felt Natasha's breasts press into your back, her body flush against you as her arms wrapped around your waist.

"I can't wait for our first date, detka."

READ PT 1 HERE

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voxslays · 1 month ago

Text

The Morning After

Featuring >>> Human! Alastor x Reader; In which Alastor and Reader are forced into an arranged marriage, but slowly start to care for eachother…or do they? Part two of this fic.

Warnings: AFAB! Reader, Minor Smut (in the beggining)

Alastor wakes up early, as he usually does. He's already hard and ready for you, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh and pull your leg back over his hip. He grinds against you slowly, his hot breath on the back of your neck. "Morning," He murmurs. You groan. “Five more minutes.” He chuckles, nipping at your earlobe. "Afraid not, darling. I need my good morning cuddles.” His fingers trail down your body, slipping between your legs to find you still slick from last night. "Mmm, you're still so tight.” He groans.

Alastor slides into you slowly, filling you completely. He sets a slow, deep pace, drawing a low moan from you. "That's it," he encourages, nuzzling into your neck. "Wake up for me, my love." He continues at his steady pace, his hands roaming your body, caressing and teasing. He rolls his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. "You feel amazing," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "I could stay buried inside you forever." His hand slips down to circle your core in rhythm with his thrusts. "Come for me, my love," he rasps, his breathing growing harsher. "Wrap your legs around me. Now, ma chéri. Now."

He grinds into you, his own release following close behind. You shatter around him, your walls clenching tightly around his thickness as you scream his name. He follows soon after, his own orgasm ripping through him as he buries himself deep inside you and fills you with his seed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcome. He buries his face in your neck, planting soft kisses on your skin. "Good girl," Alastor praises, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Now, we can have those five more minutes."

He holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as you both bask in the afterglow of your intense morning lovemaking session. He holds you close, his heart still racing from your passionate encounter. After a moment, he sits up and pulls you into his arms, cradling you like a child. "Stay right here," Alastor commands softly, "and don't move until I say so." You nod.

“M’kay.” You say in your groggy morning voice. Alastor carries you to the bathroom, where he quickly draws a bath. Once the tub is filled with steaming hot water, he steps in, still cradling you in his arms. He sits down, settling you on top of him. "Relax.” You get used to the warmth of the water before speaking up again. “I thought you told me to ‘stay right there?’” You giggle softly. He chuckles and nips at your earlobe. "You're impossible.” His large hands splay across your stomach, caressing gently. "You're so beautiful, my love. And you’ll carry my child.” He hums.

“Why are you so obsessed with that?” His hands tighten possessively on your stomach. "Because the thought of you growing heavy with my seed, nurturing our child inside your womb...it's intoxicating. And because I want everyone to know that you're irrevocably mine." Your eyes widen as a blush creeps across your face. “I don't know how to feel about that.” You say honestly. Alastor sighs, his breath hot against your neck. "I know it's a lot to take in. But I want to give you everything—my love, my protection, my children. You're my world now." His hands slide up to cup your chest, kneading the soft flesh.

He rolls your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging gently. "Mmm, so responsive," He murmurs. His lips brushing over your ear as he hears your beautiful whimpers. "I can't wait to see how sensitive they become when you're pregnant. To watch your body change and grow, all because of me." His hands roam back down to your belly, his touch reverent. "You'll be beautiful, carrying my child. And when you give birth, when I hold our son or daughter in my arms... that will be the proudest moment of my life." He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Let's wait at least a little while though!” You say softly. His expression darkens briefly, but he hides it quickly. "Of course, my love. Whatever you want. For now, let's enjoy each other. And maybe, in a little while, we'll start trying." He kisses your neck, his touch gentle. "No rush, hmm?"

After your bath, he helps you dry off before dressing you in your finest nightgown. He then dons a pair of pajamas, the shirt leaving a large amount of his chest bare and muscles on display. He leads you to one of the three kitchens, where he proceeds to cook breakfast for both of you. As he works, he hums a soft tune under his breath. He glances at you occasionally, his eyes filled with affection. "Eggs and bacon alright with you, darling?" he asks, cracking eggs into a pan. "I thought we could have pancakes later, if you like." You smile. “Yes, thank you.” You say, answering his first question.

Alastor sets a plate in front of you, filled with scrambled eggs and crispy bacon. He sits down across from you, eating his own breakfast quietly. After a few minutes, he speaks up, his voice low and thoughtful. "You know, I've been thinking..." He pauses. "I want to take you on a honeymoon." He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your reaction. "Somewhere far away, just the two of us. Where I can keep you all to myself for a long time." His eyes glimmer with mischief. "Somewhere exotic - maybe an island, or a remote cabin in the woods. Where I can make love to you anytime I want, without fear of interruption." He reaches across the table, taking your hand. "What do you think? Would you like that?"

“That would be nice…But what about your father? Didn’t you two have some business to attend to?” You remind him. Alastor’s smile wavers slightly, his grip on your hand tightening. "My father...Yes, there are some matters to attend to. But they can wait. You're more important." He stands up and moves to your side of the table, pulling you into his lap. "I want to focus on us right now." He nuzzles your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. "Let me handle my father. You just concentrate on being my beautiful, loving wife." His hands roam over your body possessively. “Alright. Just don't let him get to you.” You bring your hand up to cup his face. His expression hardens briefly, but he hides it quickly. "He won't. Not again. I promise you that." He kisses you deeply, his touch passionate. When he pulls back, his face is gentle once more. "Now, finish eating, love. Then we can..."

Alastor smirks, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. "...engage in more pleasurable activities. I'm not nearly done worshiping every inch of you." His hands slip under your nightgown, caressing your thighs. "Eat up. You'll need your energy for what I have planned." Suddenly the kitchen doors open, and you are greeted with Alastor’s mother. The only person in either of your families who you actually liked. You quickly get off Alastor’s lap, shoving his hand off your thigh. “Mrs. Heartfelt.” He freezes, his hands still on your thighs. His mother's gaze lands on the two of you, and she raises an eyebrow. "Ah, I see you two are getting cozy.”

"Mother," Alastor greets coolly. "To what do we owe the pleasure?" His arm stays wrapped protectively around your waist. Mrs. Heartfelt’s smile lingers on you for a moment before shifting back to her son. "I was hoping to have a word with you in private, Alastor," she says, her tone polite but firm. He sighs, reluctantly letting go of you. "Of course, Mother. Give me a moment." He kisses your cheek softly before standing up. "I'll be right back, my love. Try not to miss me too much." With a wink, he follows his mother out of the room.

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honeytonedhottie · 9 months ago

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honey's guide to spring⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪷

i've been preparing this post for a while bcuz i LOVE spring and for this spring i just wanna embody feminine, fairy, dream-like beauty in my day-to-day this spring, and just enjoy it fully.

THE MOOD FOR SPRING : planting new seeds, fresh fruit, and bouquets of flowers. tea parties and floral prints and perfumes. green grapes, hibiscus tea and waking up early to see the sunrise.

PREPARATION FOR SPRING : stock up on your favorite fruits and teas. if u want fruits that are in season, the fruits in season during spring include strawberries, cherries, blueberries, kiwis, bananas and nectarines. my favorite spring time tea is hibiscus and i love a good matcha during all seasons but especially spring, and lastly a good citrus tea is always something that i enjoy.

if ur someone who experiences rly bad allergies during the spring make sure that u go to ur doctors for a check up, and make sure that u have everything that you'll need to combat allergies.

THE PLAYLIST : a good playlist is always essential so my spring playlist consists of : eternal sunshine - jhene aiko. はるなつあきふゆ - ichiko aoba. afterglow - luna li. pisces - yerin baek. fairy of shampoo - TXT. scenery - red velvet. hydrangea love - TXT. cool with you - newjeans. salad days - iiso. pov - ariana grande. lyricist - heize.

REFRESH : time for spring cleaning both mentally and physically. analyze what habits are nourishing u and which habits are drying you out. analyze ur space and do a deep cleaning, that way u can feel lighter both mentally and physically.

wash ur sheets, maybe even buy fresh sheets (floral printed sheets for spring ofc)

go thru ur closet and put the winter and autumn clothes towards the back and bring the spring clothes where they're more accessible and visible

deep clean ur room and clean ur house -> get onto clean-tok for some cleaning motivation cuz watching videos of people cleaning and organizing always motivates me to do so too

create new pinterest boards and delete ones that u dont use, or if u want to, create a completely new pinterest account. i've grown attached to my pinterest account so i won't delete it, but i've made lots of other accounts on separate devices

oftentimes we forget to clean what we use the most, and that buildup can cause our tools to be counterproductive, and just carry a lot of unnecessary germs so here are some things not to forget to clean and organize ;

behind ur ears

ur earbuds or headphones

ur skincare tools and devices (gua shas, face rollers)

ur phone screen

ur folders, binders, and folders

CULTIVATING CREATIVITY :

create something - do some painting, start a sketchbook, start dabbling in some poetry, maybe write a short story, cultivate an elite playlist etc etc

connecting with nature - go and get some fresh air, wake up earlier than usual to watch and enjoy the sunrise. drink different teas that you've never tried before, go to a local crystal shop if ur into that, make urself an elaborate platter of ur favorite fruits. go for a walk in the park, pick flowers and speaking of flowers, go and buy urself a pretty bouquet.

create a spring-time mood board

TENDING THE GARDEN OF THE MIND :

ofc i MUST talk about the mind in any of my posts bcuz its just so incredible. but what you think matters!! what u think manifests! the thoughts that u continue to water and entertain are what you will experience. therefore when u change ur thoughts and water the seeds of the new thought, you'll get a new flower.

its like gardening. your thought is the seed, and ur mind is the soil. when u entertain ur thoughts ur watering the seed, and you'll get a new flower, the flower is the new experience. so this spring, plant new thoughts and entertain those thoughts ✨

FUN SPRING-LIKE THINGS :

picking flowers -> buying yourself a bouquet

have a tea party by yourself or with friends (reference my tea party post if u need some inspo)

make a bracelet or anklet out of flowers

take a bath and infuse the bath with things like rose petals, rose scented bath milks etc

crystal shopping (last year i added amethyst to my crystal collection, this year i'd love to add selenite into my collection)

watch a 90's anime (i've watched sailor moon about a MILLION times and im gonna rewatch it again this year bcuz its just the girliest, best anime i've watched and is one of my favorites)

so i hope that this post sparked some ideas on ways that u can enjoy your spring girlies ✨

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader PART TWO [35K] another year at summer camp, more broken kayaks, a change of plans, a lot of wondering. meet us in the afterglow.

PART ONE

Tell me that it's not my fault

“Steve!” You yelled the boy's name on instinct when you saw him the morning after the cabin incident. “Hey, Steve!”

He looked startled to hear you, to hear his name on your lips when it wasn’t snarled or yelled. But he stopped anyway, blinking at you in the sunlight as you jogged over to him, hair still damp from the lake, leaving your shorts unbuttoned over your swimsuit.

“Hey,” you said, softer now you were closer. “I heard about Billy.”

Steve made a face that you tried not to smile at, his expression somewhat regretful, like he was expecting you to tell him off, something you would’ve normally done. Instead, you turned your attention to the cut on his cheek, the small scratch that still looked too fresh not to hurt. There was a bruise forming around it, blotchy blue and purple, high on his cheekbone.

[THIS MUST BE THE PLACE (COVER) BY THE LUMINEERS]

You ached to reach out, to take Steve’s chin between your finger and thumb so you could pull him down to you, so you could kiss the mark better. “Are you okay?” You asked instead.

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, eyes darting around the forest floor, at the trees and the sun, before they settled on you. He swallowed hard and tried not to watch the drop of water that was running from the nape of your neck down your chest. “Yeah, m’fine. No big deal.”

You huffed, a familiar sound that made the corners of Steve’s mouth pick up, because you still sounded soft, huffy in a way that made him want to fix it.

“That’s not what Eddie said,'' you told him, finally giving in and moving a little closer, toes of your sneakers pushed into the moss so you could peer at his injuries with concerned eyes. “He said you really went for Billy. That he’d never seen you like that before.”

Steve froze as you inspected his cheek, closer than you’d been in weeks. You still smelled the same, he noted, under your sunscreen and the lake water. Your perfume still clung to your skin and Steve watched with parted lips as you reached up to push some of his hair back in order to get a better look at his cheek.

You kept your gaze lowered as you did so, careful not to move too fast, wary about making eye contact. But Steve didn’t move away.

“S’nothing, honest. Just got out of hand.” Steve swallowed again, mouth too dry and Adam’s apple bobbing as his hand accidentally grazed your hip as he shifted. “Um, what else did Eddie say?”

You frowned, letting your hand drop from Steve’s face, albeit grudgingly. The boy was pleased to note that you didn’t move away. “Not much, apart from that. Why?”

Steve shrugged, feeling clumsy, feeling lovesick, like a teenager with a first crush, like a stupid boy who didn’t know how to function with a pretty girl so close. A month ago, he’d had taken this opportunity to pull you behind the kayak stack, nimble and sure fingers slipping down the straps of your swimsuit as he kissed you until you whispered his name the way he liked to hear.

Instead, he gave you a small smile. “No reason. Hey, do I, uh, still have sand or somethin’ in the cut? Feels itchy.”

Steve knew that the slice on his cheek was more than clean, he’d spent long enough cornered by Joyce as she squeezed cotton balls soaked in antiseptic over the injury, again and again until he batted her away with pleading eyes. But he was desperate for you to touch him again, to be this close to you without arguing. And if he couldn’t kiss you, well, maybe your soft hands on his cheek would just have to do.

You took the bait, whether you’d seen through his plan or not, Steve didn’t care. You leaned in, fingers careful on his jaw as you tilted his face this way and that, close enough that your nose almost skimmed his cheek. Steve thought you were warmer than the sun then, a heat against him that he missed even more than he’d realised. He held his breath, clenched his hands at his sides and tried not to touch you.

“Maybe there’s a little something,” you lied, “just there. Hold still.”

Steve did as you asked, frozen as you swept a gentle finger over the tender skin. You wanted to kiss the bruise, the mottled shape on his cheek that had darkened over night. But you kept your eyes lowered, movements careful, pretending to swipe away something that was never there.

“Think it’s some sand or something,” you whispered.

Steve licked his lips, hummed in agreement and let his gaze land on your face. You were just as pretty, he noted, even when you looked so sad.

“What do you think of Shelbyville?” The boy asked it so suddenly that you stopped what you were doing, your hand paused against Steve’s cheek, your fingers splayed over his jaw.

You wrinkled your nose, confused as you considered his question. “Shelbyville? Why?”

Steve didn’t say anything, he just smiled a little weakly and made a half shrug with his shoulders, waiting for your answer.

“It’s nice, I guess,” you finally replied, still confused but answering honestly. “S’pretty. My aunt lives there, out by Blue River. I like it.”

Something in Steve’s chest grew, an elated feeling that felt a little like hope, like a new possibility. “Yeah?” He smiled a little more confidently, brows raised.

You still weren’t sure why he was asking, or why he suddenly seemed so happy but you couldn’t help but smile back. You nodded, squinting up at him through the rays of sun that had appeared through the tree canopy, turning you both golden.

“Yeah,” you agreed. Grudgingly, you dropped your hand from his face, fingertips trailing down his jaw until you had no choice to step back, finding no reason to be so close. Not now. “There we go, all clean.”

Steve nodded, smile dropping slightly as you moved away, and his hand reached up to his own cheek, to the same spot you’d held. Like he was chasing your touch. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, just as soft.

It hurt to walk away, it physically hurt. So you backed up slowly, like keeping your eyes on Steve for as long as you could would somehow help and the boy stayed where you’d left him, his hand on his sore cheek, staring at you as you made your way back to the dock.

Robin was there, a stack of lifejackets in her arms, the ones you’d dropped at the sight of Steve. You took them back from her, cheeks warm, gaze lowered. You watched as Steve finally left, almost walking into a camp sign, face burning pink as he frowned at it.

“What was that?” Robin asked, brows raised under her cap. It was on backwards and had been adorned with another patch, a purple Care Bear that had its middle finger lifted.

You stared at her, wide eyed, as if that would help feign ignorance a little better. “What was what?”

“Bitch,” Robin scoffed, amused. “Don’t even try it.” She dumped more life jackets into your arms, laughing when you protested. “You’re not slick, you know.”

You kept your head down, a small shred of hope blooming in between your ribs like new flowers. If you smiled, Robin pretended that she didn’t see it.

—————

“Capture the flag,” Hopper announced, standing to face the crowd of campers and staff alike. “Need I explain?”

The kids murmured excitedly and shook their heads, eagerly awaiting their weaponry as Murray weaved in and out of the groups with tiny balloons filled with coloured paint and an old, fraying piece of ribbon that was meant to be tied around an arm. “Red or blue?” he’d ask each kid, before grinning and giving them the opposite of what they asked for.

“Aren’t these supposed to go in paint guns, or something?” Lucas called out, squinting pitifully at the small balloon he held aloft. “These ain’t gonna do shi--”

“Language, Mr. Sinclair,” Hopper called back cheerfully. “And I’m so sorry, you seem to have mistaken our budget with Camp America. Take the damn balloons and pray you got a good arm, kid.”

The campers snickered and Lucas frowned, shoving a shoulder into Dustin who jostled Will and Mike, a red paint filled balloon popping prematurely and bursting over the smallest boy’s sneakers. Will sighed, a long suffering thing that was too weary for a preteen, and held out a hand for Murray to deposit another one into it.

“Maybe we can do some fundraising for next year,” Murray added, making his way back to the front of the group. “I’m sure Mr. Harrington can help arrange something, right Steven?”

Every pair of eyes shot to Steve as he stood slack jawed and wide eyed, gaze finding yours in the confusion. You were looking at him with furrowed brows, wondering what on earth Murray could have meant. Next year? Mr. Harrington?

“Uh…” was all Steve had to say.

Eddie snorted. Steve backhanded him in the stomach. You were still frowning.

“Team captains,” Murray announced, holding two more armbands aloft. These ones had a crown on each, penned on with black marker that had faded over the years. “Choose your leaders, people.”

It took approximately half a second for Eddie to shove Steve forward, sending him through a crowd of kids that squealed at the jostling. Unsure if it was planned or not, you swore when Robin did the same to you, nipping at your side so you squeaked. You glared at Murray when he approached, grinning wide.

“This should be fun,” he drawled, teasing. His eyes flashed too much mischief for a man pushing fifty and you grunted your annoyance even when you grabbed the armband from him.

You didn’t look to see if Steve did the same, but you heard his hissed argument with Eddie as you made Robin tie the material around your bicep, red cotton against your mustard yellow lifeguard shirt.

“Harrington,” Murray announced. “Look sharp and uh, let’s keep it clean, huh, kiddies?”

When you finally spared a glance, Murray was looking between you and Steve, still grinning and the boy was knotting the blue band around his arm, his features pulled together in frustration.

Hopper was pinching at his eyes, looking pained. “For the love of god, any destruction of property, will be coming out of your fu— out of your paychecks.” The man sighed, already tired and he huffed. “Take the damned flags and don’t trash my camp.”

And then the game began.

The camp was alive with noise and colour, the sounds of kids laughing and screeching as they launched tiny paint balls at each other, all strategy and planning out the window after Eddie and Jonathan launched a sneak attack on Robin, dousing her in blue paint that they dropped from a tree. Subtlety was gone after that and the kids ran amok, abandoning their positions until you were the only one left defending the flag, an old ratty, red thing that was shoved up high and behind the stacked gym mats inside the hall.

You were bored hearing the screams from outside, pacing the gym as you waited for either a teammate to return (Max and Will had left ten minutes ago for more supplies, but you heard the sorrowful sounds of Will being pelted with balloons mere seconds after leaving the gym. Max had snorted and left him behind), or for an opponent to try their luck at capturing your flag. You weren’t sure which option appealed less, as the semi silence you were left in gave you too much time to think.

Why did Steve ask about Shelbyville of all places? Why did Murray talk like Steve was going to be here next year?

Outside, you heard someone yell, someone shriek and then a casualty was declared as Dustin yelped about having paint in his eye and how Max was playing too mean. You considered leaving, going to check everyone had it all covered but you heard Joyce fuss, kids giggling and soon enough, the game kicked back off.

The late afternoon was turning to evening when the doors finally jolted open, a squeak and a whine of the hinges that let in the last of the golden coloured light, the sky turning pinky peach through the old, cracked windows.

You turned to face your opponent with a balloon in your fist, already raised and aimed at the doorway.

Steve.

You sighed, trying your best to seem unaffected even though you could feel your own heartbeat in your ears. You pushed the toe of a sneaker into the gym floor, making it squeak. “This seems clichéd,” you joked.

The boy snorted, a light huff of air that eased the pounding of your chest. “Right?” He agreed. “But Eddie got disqualified for unfair use of weaponry and fuck knows where Billy led Mike and Lucas.”

You frowned, genuine concern evident in your voice. “And no one thought to check on them?”

Steve shrugged, grinning. “S’fine. Mike’s been taking karate classes. Apparently.”

It was easy to joke like this. Just like it had been easy to forget about how Steve walked away from the cabin trap set by the kids, how you’d run to him the minute you found out he was hurt, how it was easier still to put your hands on his jaw, his cheek, play pretend and fake act nurse.

But suddenly the last few weeks, the last few months, caught up to you and you were more aware than ever that August was soon approaching. You wondered if Steve’s room back in Hawkins was already packed up, if his carpet was covered in cardboard boxes, if his mom and dad would travel to Arizona with him, if he already had his class schedule, if he still really wanted to go.

“What’s in Shelbyville?”

“What—?”

“Do you know someone there? And why did you hit Billy? Was it something to do with me?”

The boy was reeling from your onslaught of sudden questioning and the attention made him burn. “What? No,” Steve scoffed, trying and failing miserably to appear cool and collected. “Why? What did Eddie tell you?”

“What’s going on, Steve? Why’s Murray calling you Mr. Harrington, why are you—”

“It’s nothing!” The boy interrupted. “Nothin’s going on.”

“Stop lying to me!”

Steve swallowed and let out a sigh that hurt his chest, a stuttering, wrenching thing because your eyes were turning glassy and he saw the way you caught yourself as your bottom lip started to tremble.

“I’m no— I, fuck, I’m not trying to lie to you, it’s just…” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Princess, listen—”

A paint balloon landed on Steve’s hip, a barely there thump but the ball exploded with red paint, splattering across Steve’s clothes, his shirt, his forearm. He blinked up at you, lips parting in surprise.

“Don’t call me that,” your words were thick with emotion, your lips in a tight line as you tried your hardest not to break. “And stop lying to me. All you’ve done is lie to me.”

Steve was speechless, holding his arms out before letting them drop back to his side in defeat. “I haven't lied to you,” he said mournfully. “At least I haven’t meant to, shit, it’s been— hard, okay? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I know it’s been hard Steve, but god, tell me the truth! At least admit it to yourself.”

“What truth?” Steve yelled, grimacing when you flinched. He immediately felt awful, but the frustration in his chest was simmering over, clawing its way up his throat. “What do you want me to say, huh? That you were right? That I’m some kind of fucking loser that’s doing as daddy says? That I’m so stupid that only the way I can get into college is if I let my dad pay my way in?”

He threw a paintball at the floor, only feeling slightly bad when some of the colour reached the toes of your shoes, your bare shins. Bright blue streaked across your skin and you frowned, at the mess and Steve’s words.

“You’re not a loser,” you growled, annoyance colouring your tone. No one was allowed to talk shit about Steve Harrington. Not even himself. Not to you, at least. “And you’re not stupid, Steve. Stop it.”

Another paint balloon was thrown, this time by you, a careful aim that caught Steve’s chest. He swore, staring at the bloom of red over his staff shirt before he glared at you. “Hey, the fuck was that for?”

“You’re not a loser and you’re not stupid and your dad is a fucking bully who can’t be happy for his son’s own choices.” You launched another, huffing when Steve managed to avoid it, paint exploding over the gym floor instead.

“Stop!” Steve retaliated with his own weapons, chucking a blue balloon at your thigh, feeling a tiny flush of satisfaction when it burst all over your tennis skirt.

“Are you still going to Arizona?” You were near breathless, adrenaline high as you held another balloon in your hand, ready to take aim.

“No!” Steve burst. He swore, dropping the last balloon and groaning when the paint hit his feet. He scrubbed his hands over his face, streaks of blue over his cheeks and into his hair as he tugged on the ends. “I don’t know. Fuck, I— no. I don’t want to. I never fucking wanted to.”

You dropped your balloon too, red on the floor, on your shoes, your ankles. You stared at the boy, shocked as his admittance, despite how you’d known it all along. You weren’t sure what to do now, what to say. But tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, hot and heavy.

You sniffed, tears gathering at your lash line, making the boy before you blurry. You took a deep breath before your next question, wondering if this is the one that would hurt the most, but before you could, Steve spoke first.

“You said I didn’t call you back,” he sounded as wrecked as you felt, his words thick and clumsy, his eyes holding too much emotion to try and decipher. “That night, after the party, you said I didn't call you back. When? When did you call me?”

You were stunned. One, that you’d admitted that, and two, that Steve had remembered. The vodka you’d had that night made the memories blurry, but you could recall your head buried in Steve’s chest, his sweatshirt on your frame, his cologne and leftover campfire smoke amongst cotton sheets. A mumbled confession, sad words and sleep.

You shrugged, helpless. “Fuck, I— I called you the night after. The night after you told me about college. I rang and your dad answered.” You swallowed harshly, looking anywhere but at Steve. “He said you were busy. Said he’d tell you I called.”

If Steve had felt an annoyance, a disdain, for his father before, nothing really compared to the anger that burst in his chest like a bomb. “What?”

You shrugged at him again.

“Ba—” Steve groaned, tugging at his hair until it stood on end. He said your name, agonised. “I didn’t know you called. I— fuck, I would’ve called you back. I spent fucking weeks standing at the phone wishing you would, tryin’ to work up the balls to call you myself.”

Steve stepped forward, once, twice. “He didn’t tell me. My dad didn’t tell me you tried to get in touch.” Steve’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take your own. “I would’ve called you back. Fuck, I would’ve driven straight over to you and—”

Steve didn’t get to finish his sentence before you’d launched yourself at him. You didn’t know what any of it meant, not yet, not really. You didn’t know if Steve really was going to stay, what that meant for you both, what would happen next. Nothing could be fixed right now, not right away, not in the middle of the forest during a game of capture the flag, but you decided then and there - covered in paint - that eight weeks was too long to go without kissing Steve Harrington.

He caught you, arms around your waist as you crushed yourself to his chest, your hands finding the hair at the nape of his neck so you could tug him down to meet your lips. Steve went willingly, your toes barely skimming the floor, your T-shirt tangled between the boy’s fingers as he gripped you like he’d never dream of letting you go.

Not again.

Not ever.

It was a messy thing, that kiss. It felt new, like a reset, a restart, like the first time all over again. Your noses bumped and you breathed in the air that Steve blew out, a sigh, a swear, lips pushed together until either of you could handle it anymore.

“I thought you hated me,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, eyes closed tight and his arms still around you. “Fuck, I thought—”

“No,” you told him, hands covering his jaw, thumb soothing over the apples of his cheeks, the cut that was still there. “No, no, could never. Could never hate you.”

Your feet were back on the ground now, the toes of your sneakers pushed to the gym floor, stepping in paint as you both swayed slightly at the desperation of each other's grip. That’s all Steve seemed to need to hear, because the boy dipped his head back down to yours and kissed you soundly, with more confidence than the first time, like he suddenly remembered that he knew how to do this. His hands were up your shirt, fingertips skimming along your spine, palm flat to your skin to hold you to him so he could kiss you deeper, slower, longer.

And when you parted your lips for him, you weren’t sure who made the first noise. But you whined and Steve groaned, tongues licking over each other’s, four hands getting greedy, pulling and shoving at camp shirts to feel more.

“I don’t wanna go to Arizona,” Steve whispered, and you pulled back enough to soothe a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair from his eyes. He looked at you so seriously that you felt it in your chest, a sharp pang of hurt and relief for the boy. “I don’t wanna study finance.”

“I know.” You nodded, bringing him back to you, kissing over whatever part of him you could reach. His jaw, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his closed eyelids, his chin. “I know, it’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy, you know that right?”

Steve nodded too, nose bumping yours as he stumbled backwards, clumsy footing taking you both away from the middle of the gym. “I know, baby,” he sucked in a breath. “M’sorry.”

Baby. Babybabybaby.

He had you up against a wall before you realised, head tilted down to you as he nuzzled at your throat, your head tipping back so you could let Steve do as he pleased. He nipped at the skin there, kissing along your neck until you cried out his name and god, the hands he had on your waist just squeezed tighter in response.

“Shit, Steve,” you sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. “I should be the one apologising, I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did, I should’ve—”

“Nonono,” Steve shook his head, catching your lips for another kiss again, swallowing your noises as you whined for him, fingers twisting and tugging meanly at his hair, the collar of his shirt. “Don’t wanna talk anymore,” he groaned. “Not right now, please…”

[MEDICINE BY HARRY STYLES]

“Storeroom,” you told him, nodding towards the double doors that led into the large cupboard, away from any prying eyes that would eventually come into the gym. “Now.”

Steve was apparently as desperate as you were, because he didn’t take his lips off of you, even as you both stumbled towards your chosen hiding spot. Feet tripped over each other as you made it across the gym, hands still in his air and tugging him down to you. Steve didn’t seem to mind, groaning loud when you sighed and tipped your head back for him, letting him lick and suck at your neck. There was paint smeared everywhere, splatters of red and blue mixing to make a lavender colour, streaking your skin and Steve’s.

And then the door to the storeroom was wrenched open and Steve was guiding you in with a tug of his hand. It was funny how your stomach flipped, a nervous excitement, an anticipation hooking in your stomach like this was your first time with the boy all over again. Except you knew what he liked and you knew how to make him fall apart so easily, which is why you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself at him, Steve’s back against the wall this time as your hands cradled his jaw and you pulled him down to meet your kiss.

Shoulders bumped old shelves, metal ball cages that were only half full now that the summer was coming to an end and there were stacks of old oars leaning against three kayaks, each plastered with patches of new paint that didn’t match the original colour. A quick fix it job that Steve had been tasked with last summer after he flat out refused to hand over the three hundred dollars Hopper demanded for a new boat.

You thought of that stupid jar on your managers desk and wondered if it would be worth it.

But once you’d pulled back, just a touch to look up at Steve, your mind was made up. The boy looked wrecked, tanned skin messy with paint, streaks of it running across strong forearms, dots of it somehow mixing with freckles across his cheeks and nose. You’d gotten red paint in his hair when you’d grabbed at it, making it messier than ever. But Steve didn’t seem to care, nor if the way he was looking at you was any indication. Heavy, hooded eyes on you, roaming unashamedly over your face, your frame, the way you’d pushed your thighs together for some relief. He was already hard, thick and strained against the zipper of his jeans at the very first touch of your lips against his.

Yeah, it would be worth it.

“Missed you,” he whispered, reverent, ruined. His hands reached out for you again, fingers twisting in the sides of your shirt to pull you back to him. “Thought that was it, thought I’d never get to have you like this again.”

You made a noise of protest at the thought, a hiccuping thing that Steve swallowed with a kiss, his breath coming out heavy against your cheek. You were impatient now, too worked up, desperate for him. Your hands snuck under his shirt, slipping up and over his stomach, smiling when the muscles there clenched and twitched under your fingertips. You raked your nails back down him, anchoring yourself to his belt loops, wondering if he’d let you do what you wanted him with, if he’d be patient enough.

Steve was working his mouth over your neck when you asked, his own thumb pulling at your shirt collar to try and stretch it out for himself, uncovering more skin to kiss.

“Steve,” you were breathless and he hummed, never stopping the way he sucked and bit down at the crook of your neck. “Wanna suck you off.”

The noise that left the boy’s lips was unholy, a needy, wrecked sounding thing that had you more desperate to get on your knees than ever. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it with a finesse that made Steve’s eyes flutter.

“Please,” you added for extra effect, like you didn’t already know Steve would give you whatever you wanted.

“Fuck, honey,” Steve pulled back, just slightly, his head falling backwards until it thumped dully against the wall. His pupils were blown wide, his hold on your waist tightening, hands sneaking under cotton to steal a touch of your skin. “You want me to fuck you, right?”

You nodded immediately, lips parting at the thought, head going fuzzy at the idea of having Steve inside you again after what felt like a fucking lifetime. Two years of regular sex had spoiled you, and not even your own fingers in a private Sunday morning shower had gotten you past frustrated. “God, yeah, yeah I do.”

Steve nodded like he knew, like he understood your frustration and well, he probably did. He reached up to trace a thumb over your bottom lip, hand cracking your jaw as he pulled it from place, watching awestruck as it popped prettily back into place when he let it go. You whined, moving closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands around his wrist, anchoring him to you.

Steve let out a quiet curse, breath uneven and watching you from under his lashes, bringing his thumb back to your mouth. He teased you just a little, rubbing the pad of it over the seam of your lips, taking it away every time you tried to part them. But when he saw you getting glossy eyed and restless, he gave in, sinking the tip of his thumb past your lips and resting on the soft of your tongue.

Steve groaned when you whined, pulling you closer by one hip and wedging a thigh between your legs for you to push yourself against. His gaze was locked on your mouth as he dragged his thumb out past your lips, just a little, just enough to see the slick skin and the way your tongue chased it, curling around the digit. His cock twitched with jealousy in his jeans.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered to your doe eyed stare, your wet lips. “Can’t let you get your mouth on me, princess, m’sorry. Wouldn’t last a fucking second.”

You bit down on his thumb as some kind of argument, frowning when Steve slipped it from your mouth. But before you could protest, he was back on you, hands carding into your hair and pulling you flush to him, tongue on yours in seconds. You moaned into the kiss, a heavy, dirty thing that made you lick into him deeper, grinding yourself down on the thigh he’d so kindly given you.

It didn’t take long for Steve to lose some patience - or maybe it was control - but he was effortless in the way he spun you both, trading places so he could pin you against the wall instead. You thought about resisting, thought about playing hard to get and keep up the pretence of still being mad but Steve’s mouth was on your throat and his hand was sneaking up the inside of your shirt.

“Baby,” you squirmed, lashes fluttering, body boneless against him. You clung to him for dear life, fingers clutching his shoulders, his shirt, his hair. “Please.”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but it made Steve moan, a rumbling noise that vibrated through his chest to yours and he pulled back just to peck at your lips, your cheek, your jaw. “Say that again,” he murmured, voice thick with an endless affection. His lips were swollen, pouty and pink, his eyes glazed over for you. “Call me that again.”

Your body buzzed, your brain foggy and it took a few seconds for everything to catch up. Steve was still looking at you, pleading, his hands kneading at your hips, your thighs, like he didn’t dare stop touching you.

“Baby,” you repeated again and you see the relief in Steve’s gaze at the word. Affection, fondness, love, affirmation. He needed it too. So you pulled him back down to you, hands curled in the front of his T-shirt collar, kissing along his jaw and chin until he groaned and caught your lips with his. “Babybabybaby,” you mumbled against his mouth, sighing prettily between kisses, pulling him closer than necessary, scared he’d disappear.

It was a needy kiss that turned dirty, the ache between your legs making you nip at Steve’s lips, pull at his hair a little meaner, rake your nails down the back of his neck and pant into his open mouth.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whined, your declaration messy and garbled as Steve kissed you between words. “Missed you so much.”

Steve nodded his agreement, eyes half lidded and heavy as he let you yank at his shirt, pulling it off and launching it over his shoulder. It hung from some racks, old metal shelves filled with broken gym equipment and a box camp hats that no one was made to wear anymore.

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “Jesus Christ, c’mere.” Steve pulled you back to him, your own shirt joining his, your plain white bra the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He tugged at the straps until they slid down your shoulders, baring more skin for him to kiss. “Missed you too, you’ve no idea.”

Something about the admission seemed to kick everything into high gear and Steve was mouthing across your chest as he slipped a hand up and under your skirt, teasing at the elastic edge, fingers gripping and pulling until it snapped against your thigh.

“Kept dreamin’ about you,” he confessed, whispering the words against your throat like something unholy. “Kept wakin’ up with a mess in my fucking boxers like a damn teenager ‘cause I’d fall asleep and dream about how you tasted.”

His fingers slipped past the cotton barrier, swiping achingly slow through your folds, parting them and feeling the slick there. You both moaned at the feel, one foot coming up to rest on the edge of a kayak, keeping yourself spread open for Steve. He swore and you felt his grin, a pleased and proud smile that settled against your chest.

“Good girl, that’s it, keep your leg up for me, honey.” Steve didn’t bother taking your underwear off as he sank to his knees, he just hooked your thigh over his shoulder and his fingers into pink cotton, tugging them to the side. “Fuck,” Steve hissed, eyes flickering from yours down to the shiny wetness between your legs. “Look at her, honey, still just as fuckin’ pretty, she missed me too, yeah?”

Fire nipped at your stomach, a fast roll of electricity under your skin at the boy’s words and suddenly nothing bad had ever happened, you’d never broken up and Steve had you pinned against his shower wall, cold tiles on your back and sticky, dirty words pressed onto your skin. You whined, a loud cry that Steve grinned at and you nodded, quickly realising that you’d agree to anything Steve asked.

“Yeah, she did,” Steve cooed, moving closer to kiss along your thighs, nosing at the crease where your leg met your cunt. “She’s drippin’ for me, shit, just begging for a kiss, huh?”

“Steve,” you hissed his name, half desperate, half a warning, canting your hips forward until his lips brushed against your folds. He pulled back a little, smiling wide, like he was having the time of his life. “We’re hardly in the privacy of a hotel room, fuck, c’mon, please.”

“S’where I’ll take you after camp,” the boy promised, voice low and sticky soft. He ran his mouth over your folds, a barely there kiss that made rise up onto one set of toes to chase his lips. “Gonna take you somewhere real nice, princess, gonna make up for this summer, gonna fix it, I promise.”

He was babbling, eyes closed as he kissed up and across the soft of your lower stomach, nose dragging through the soft curls below until he could lick a line over you, not parting you just yet, just teasing, tasting.

You were breathless, body bowing over Steve’s head as you grabbed at his hair and held on. If you wanted to meaner about it, if it was two months ago and he was teasing you in your bedroom, laughter on his lips, you would’ve pulled his hair and rode his face, giving in and making him moan.

But Steve was whispering promises into your skin like apologies and even in your pent up haze, you still had questions. “What about - fucking hell, Steve - what about Arizona?”

“Later, I’ll explain later,” was all he said, before he parted you with two thumbs and licked a slow, wide stripe from your entrance to your clit.

Steve knew how you liked it, had two whole years to learn what you loved, where to touch, where to kiss, when to slow down, when to speed up. He kept his eyes on you as he swiped over your clit, a soft, little kitten lick and that made you squeak and buck your hips down onto his face. The kayak you had one foot rested on groaned in protest.

You heard him whisper praise into you, filthy, pretty words that you barely heard over your own heaving breaths and your head fell back against the wall when his tongue worked its way around your entrance, licking over you, nose nudging at your clit as he did.

“Fuck, princess, she’s just crying for me, isn’t she?”

You could only whine, a soft, high pitched thing that made Steve palm at his cock through his jeans, pulling you onto his face with his free hand. He kept up those slow, lazy licks through your cunt, only speeding up when you started to roll yourself over his mouth. He groaned, a dirty noise that made you want to grab at him but you were hurtling towards an orgasm that you’d hadn’t been able to give yourself for weeks.

“M’gonna come,” you whispered, your throat tight, your voice wrecked. “Steve, Stevie, please, I’m gonna come.”

The boy didn’t dare take his mouth away from you, not even to whisper encouragement. He just snuck his hand from your thigh to your ass, squeezing you tight and he coaxed you further onto his tongue, silently telling you to rock yourself over his mouth, to take what you needed. And as your noises got breathier, needy, little whines that turned into groans, Steve took your clit into his mouth and sucked at the same time he slid two thick fingers into you, hooking them in place and rubbing.

You gushed around his fingers as you came, a sob ripping from your lips as your body gave in and bowed over Steve’s, hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to keep yourself up. Aftershocks jolted through you as Steve grinned, tongue seeking out your clit even still, licking over it softly as you came down, holding you in place as you tried to jerk away.

“Steve,” you gasped at him, pushing softly at his forehead until he gave in, running kisses up your thigh and stomach as he stood. “Fuck, baby, fuckfuckfuck—”

“How’d you want me?” He gaped out, his chest heaving, his hair a mess from your fingers and his lips glossy from the way you’d ground yourself against his mouth. “Huh, princess? Tell me, I’ll give you it, I swear.” The boy was desperate, clinging to you, his hands on your jaw as he dipped in for a kiss, groaning wild when you licked yourself from his lips, sucking the taste of yourself from him.

You couldn’t really think, words coming out in strings of pleases and curses, begging for something you didn’t know how to ask for. So you pulled at the belt on Steve’s jeans instead, shoving the denim down his hips, just enough for you to pull his cock out and show it some proper attention. Steve’s eyes glazed over as you pumped him, thumb swiping over his leaking tip, your mouth kissing along his chest.

He groaned, a gasping, rough sound that you knew so well and Steve shook his head, batting away your hand before he came all over it. He patted at your hip, held his hands out for you. “Up,” he commanded.

You hopped easily, Steve’s hands catching your bare thighs, palms curving around your ass as he turned and set you upon the stacked kayaks. You were just the right height for him to slip into you, but he kept you waiting, playing with himself as he pulled down the cups of your bra, freeing your tits for him. He thumbed over an already hard nipple, watched in awe as it pebbled even more and he licked his lips, cock nudging at your thigh.

“Like this?” He asked you quietly, running a hand down your front, curling his fingers around your throat, squeezing gently at your chest, your hip. He was everywhere at once. “Could fuck you like this, or I could bend you over, huh?”

The kayak stand shook a little when Steve tugged at your calf, bringing you closer to the edge and his cock. You had zero faith the boats would withstand the movements that were about to ensue, but you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care.

You’d help Steve burn the camp to the ground, as long as he kept touching you.

“Like this,” you whined and god, you sounded bratty, needy, the way Steve liked it best. “Need to kiss you,” you told him and it was the truth. You were as desperate to kiss and hold and look at the boy as much as you were for him to finally fuck you.

Steve’s expression softened then, melting brown butter, his gaze sugar sweet. He leaned in, nose nuzzling yours as he kissed you, a one, two, sweet peck of a thing before your mouth fell open for him and you were gasping his name.

“Steve!”

He’d slid into you easily, caught your noise with his lips, kissing it away as he groaned through it too. You were soaked still, but the stretch and burn of taking him again for the first time in months was apparent. You whined, clutching at him, letting the boy coo and soothe you with kisses everywhere, scattered pieces of affection dotted over your nose and cheeks. He felt you clench around him, tighter than ever, and his hands found your jaw.

“Honey - Jesus Christ - baby, look, hmm? Look at me, baby.” Steve sounded almost serious, his tone low and soft, determined for your eyes on his. He caught your jaw, cradling it as he pulled out of you, just enough for the tip of him to stay inside of you, throbbing. “There we go, there, that’s it, princess.”

You could’ve let your eyes slip shut at the pleasure of it all, lips parting and jaw falling slack when Steve thrust forward again, a slow and steady rhythm that kept you stretched out and wet for him. But you knew that Steve wanted you to keep gazing at him, his own eyes heavy and half lidded as he leaned in, his forehead against yours, his stare hot as he picked up his pace.

“S’fucking amazing,” you moaned for him, almost unaware of the shuffling and banging noises you were both beginning to make. The kayaks were bumping into the wall with each rock of Steve’s hips. “Fuck, keep going, please.”

It turned harder, faster. A dirty snap of the boy’s hips against yours, his hands everywhere, one holding a thigh wide, the other tangled in the hair at the nap of your neck, a hot and commanding hot that made you arch your back for him. Steve grunted at the push of your tits bare against his chest, skin on skin and your bra, a tangle of wire and straps around your ribs, your skirt tucked up to meet it.

“M’really not gonna last long,” the boy admitted, his chest heaving, his eyelashes fluttering as he glanced down at your spread legs, the soaked cotton of your underwear stretched at the seams around one thigh, the slick, shiny wet of you coating him with each rock of his hips. “Fucking hell, s’too much, so fucking good.”

The sound of skin on skin and the rattle of kayaks filled the small room, the soft glow of the sunset coming in from the tiny window that was partially hidden by old gym mats. It turned you both bronze, shades of gold and rose and copper in the light, breathy gaps and whines that morphed into moans as you both reached the edge. You weren’t sure how long it had been, if the game was still being played, if someone had captured your flag - or Steve’s - if a whistle had been blown.

Fuck, it didn’t even matter that camp was ending next week, that you’d go back to Hawkins and live a life without the boy. Maybe. Maybe? Would you see him again? Before he left? Would you go to his parents house and stand in the same driveway you left him in and let him leave you? Would it hurt less or more after this, after you let him kiss you in the shadows, in the last bit of the sun? Would this fix it? Would it matter, once you had your clothes back on?

It was like Steve could tell you were floating away from him, like he could see you trapped in a box in your own head. He tugged gently at your hair, nudging his nose against yours and worked his cock somewhere deeper inside you. He tilted his hips up until you gasped for him and he smiled, nodding against you as you caught him for another kiss, swallowing his soft “there you go, honey, just focus on me.”

You couldn’t take much more after that, emotions and the feeling of Steve hitting that pretty spot inside of you over and over and over suddenly becoming too much. You blinked at him, body flush with his, clinging to his shoulder, his neck, his messy strands of hair. Neither of you mentioned your glassy eyes, the stuttering sob that broke in your throat when you told him:

“Need t’come, Stevie.”

Steve just kissed you sweetly, a lingering push and pull of his lips against yours that felt warmer and softer than a summer morning. Steve Harrington was still the afternoon sun and blue skies, those endlessly big clouds, the sound of a creek, the splash of a lake. He was blue raspberry popsicles and pink lemonade, he was the taste of honey, the smell of cedar and wild mint.

He was still yours.

You were sure of it.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, letting a hand fall to your cunt so he could flick over your clit, thumbing soft circles as he started a dirty grind of his hips into yours. “Gonna come for me, honey, yeah? Gonna come with me?”

And you did, easily. Too easily. Your whole body tightened around him as you came hard, crying out and blinking back tears. Steve was quick to follow, losing his rhythm as his hips stuttered, his face pressed to the crook of your neck as you petted his hair and whispered to him, pushing him closer and closer.

“Baby, where can I—”

It was strange to hear him ask the question. Of course, it had been asked before, a few times, years ago, when sex with each other was new and exploratory, when condoms were still used and the afterglow was filled with shy laughter and out of breath kisses.

Then comfort and familiarity grew between the tension, and intimacy took over from that new excitement. It was even better, knowing each other like that, being able to touch and feel and know what the other liked, the easiness of falling asleep stretched out beside each other, naked and ready for toothpaste kisses and a shared cup of coffee the next day.

You missed it.

You missed all of it.

“Inside,” you whined, eyes clenched shut as Steve swore and pulled you closer still. “Inside, please.”

Steve kissed you when he came, a mash of his lips against yours, an open mouth groan that you swallowed, a clumsy, aching thing that made you want to keep him this close forever.

But then the kayak underneath you squealed loudly, an ugly protest as it dug too hard into the stack beneath it, the shell of it splintering. You swore, clinging to Steve with both arms and legs before he could even pull out of you. He took your weight just as the boat cracked, a jagged hole in the bottom of it taking your count of destroyed call equipment to an all time high.

The silence was deafening.

Eventually, Steve spoke. His arms were still tucked under your thighs, his face at your neck, close enough that you could feel the twitch of his grin. “Maybe we could hide it. Y’know, before anyone sees.”

You laughed, a tired sounding thing as you tightened your hold around the boy’s neck. You wanted to kiss his cheek, his temple, his forehead, you wanted to love on him until either of you could take it anymore. You never wanted this to end - at least not with another broken kayak. But camp was almost over and August was crawling closer. So you hummed, shrugging. “We could throw it in the lake. It would sink, at least.”

—————

Neither Hopper nor Murray believed you when you told them you’d hurt your foot in the scuffle of capture the flag, as convincing as your limp may have been. And they certainly didn’t believe you both when you claimed Steve was there to help.

Hopper had narrowed his eyes at the marks on Steve’s neck, the mess of your hair, the rosy tint to each of your lips. You both shrugged, staring at the forest floor before Murray had snorted, breaking the tension and sending you both back to your cabins.

No other questions were answered that night, especially seeing as Murray was ten feet behind you both at all times, trailing you through the forest with a flashlight as he whistled jovially, ensuring you both ended up in your respective beds. So you took one last look at Steve and smiled, somewhat hopefully, maybe a little sadly, before you clambered up the porch steps and into the darkness of your bunk.

You didn’t get a kiss goodnight. Or was it supposed to be a kiss goodbye?

I don’t wanna lose this with you

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve took a deep breath and made his way out of his cabin.

It had been a long week, the last days busy and filled with games, tasks, a swim meet, a gymnastics competition, Eddie’s musical extravaganza show - his title, not yours - and a campfire story every night.

The kids were filled with marshmallows, made up of sugar and sunshine, tan lines and freckles littering their faces, messy hair smelling of sunscreen and the lake. Everyone was happy. That soft, slow kind of joy that faded into melancholy as the days turned over. For those last few days you’d spent at the lake, you regretted asking Hopper to let you run swimming with Billy more than ever before.

It kept you away from Steve, all the way across the camp so all you could do was try to keep your eyes on the kids in the water and wave at the boy when your eyes met. It was only a little embarrassing, that kind of childish, first crush kind of interaction, eyes meeting, cheeks warming, hand raised to say whatever it was you couldn’t to his face.

Not yet, anyway.

It was made even more painful with Billy lingering behind you, still sprawled on the same deck chair he stared the summer in, minus his sunglasses, because his broken nose was still too tender for them.

“Could you get more pathetic?” The boy scoffed, a little nasally, biting down on the toothpick between his teeth. “Honestly, Hawkins, you’re too hot to pine.”

You scowled, flicking your towel over your shoulder so the corner of it whipped at the boy’s shoulder. He glared at you as much as he could with his sore face.

“I’m not pining.”

“Moping then,” Billy offered, grinning. “Either way, it’s disgusting. I thought you two were over.”

“I wouldn’t tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, Hargrove,” you squinted at him through the sun, sparing a glance when Dustin pulled himself onto the dock, only to barrel roll back off of it. “What makes you think I’m discussing my love life?”

The boy huffed, a smirk on his lips, mean and cruel, like always. “Or lack of,” he commented. “You think one quick fuck can solve your problems? You think that what you got between your legs is good enough to make Harrington stay? Defy daddy dearest? Even Harrington isn’t stupid enough to turn down a free ride.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared stone faced at the water, watching the way the sun changed the ripples from white to blue to gold

Billy scoffed, taunting. “Keep dreamin’, princess.”

It hurt, his words. Billy Hargrove was a bully, a mean boy that liked nothing more than to make other people hurt as much as he did. You knew that. You’d always know that. But all that was left of you and Steve’s encounter in the gym was a fading lavender bruise on where your neck met your shoulder, a blurry bite of evidence that it had actually happened.

Your scowl deepened and you decided that being close to Billy wasn’t helping your mood.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.”

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, you sat in your bunk, wondering if you’d be brave enough to do something about the gnawing want in your chest.

You hadn’t been spying, not really, but it had become harder to ignore how often Steve seemed to disappear in and out of Hopper’s cabin. You’d spotted him through the window when the kids were eating lunch, everyone else distracted by the pizza party Robin and Bob made for the last weekend of the summer. But Steve was sitting with Hop and Murray, heads bent over the desk, pieces of paper scattered on the wood.

Hopper had looked pleased. Maybe even proud. Murray was chatting animatedly, hands waving, eyes bright.

Steve had looked the most hopeful you’d seen him in weeks.

But you didn’t get the chance to ask what was going on, because Nancy was dragging you out for one last hike and El was pulling at your hand, pleading for you to join them. You couldn’t say no and you were half way up the hillside when Steve eventually emerged, a folded piece of paper slipped into his back pocket.

And when you returned, bug bitten and tired, you tried to seek the boy out, only to find him through the office window again, his back leaning against the cabin wall as he bent his head, eyes closed and the office phone pressed to his ear. You couldn’t hear, not from so far away, not over the yells of excitement from the campers as Eddie brought out guitars and old drums, but you were almost certain Steve was yelling, a frustrated furrow between his brow before he dropped onto the sofa with the phone cord wrapped around his wrist.

You could’ve gone to him then. Knocked on the door and offered your hand, a smile, maybe a hug. And maybe Steve would’ve told you what was going on, maybe he would’ve explained everything. But it didn’t feel like the time, it didn’t feel right and Mike was pushing an out of tune guitar into your hands and challenging you to some sort of battle.

Steve returned to the camp pit soon after, his eyes a little red but his smile seemed sincere when Dustin ran to him, a faux sort of tackle that made Steve catch him round the middle. They grinned as they wrestled, laughing brightly and the air around the older boy seemed lighter than it had in weeks. When Steve caught your eyes over the kid’s head, he smiled. A real thing, pink cheeked and achingly full of love, that sticky sweet kind of adoration that you’d missed so much it had hurt.

—————

On the last Saturday of camp, Steve knocked on your cabin door.

It was late, well after dinner and the kids were in their bunks full of sloppy joe’s and chocolate pudding, telling stories by flashlight, trading cards and secrets while they finished off their stashes of candy. Twilight had set in, that hazy lilac light that came after the sun had set and the forest was falling asleep. Cicadas buzzed in the depths of the trees and fireflies grazed the edges of the lake, that green-yellow glow that made you want to stay up a little later.

The knock came as Robin was painting her toenails, a cherry red she’d stolen from you, her damp hair wrapped up in a towel. She didn’t even look up at the sound, just slicked another coat of polish over her nail and said:

“That’ll be for you.”

You frowned from behind your book, setting it down with the pages splayed so you wouldn’t lose your place. The story of two star crossed lovers that pined for each other seemed more addictive than it usually would’ve been.

“M’not expecting anyone.”

Robin just huffed out a laugh and nodded at the door. “Don’t keep him waiting, babe.”

You padded barefoot across the cabin despite your confusion, sleep shorts high on your thighs and thank fuck you’d decided against wearing Steve’s staff sweater to bed, because the owner was standing on your porch when you opened the door.

“Hi.”

He had his shoved in his pockets and he looked flushed, slightly out of breath like he’d ran over. And maybe he had, considering it was lights out hours and no one was supposed to be out of their bunks.

“Hi.”

Steve smiled just as you did, a dopey, lovesick thing that felt awkward and lovely all at once. He shuffled on the wooden boards before he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to something you couldn’t see amongst the trees. “D’you wanna go for a drive?”

It was the easiest thing in the world to nod your head yes, trying to hide the smile that was making your cheeks ache. You dipped your chin as you turned back to your bunk, grabbing the sweater you kept under your pillow, avoiding eye contact with both Steve and Robin as you pulled it over your head. The material dropped to your thighs, the boy’s name stitched over your heart.

“Have fun and don’t get caught,” Robin warned cheerfully. She waved her nail polish brush between you and Steve before you had the chance to pull the door closed. “If either of you come back crying, we’re having words.”

You snorted, cheeks warming as Steve ducked his head with the same awkwardness. “We are?” You joked.

“Uhuh,” Robin nodded, “full intervention. Eddie will be here.”

“God forbid,” Steve deadpanned, wrinkling his nose at you when you laughed. He tugged his sweater sleeve, his fingers brushing over your wrist. “You comin’?”

You looked down at Steve’s hand like you weren’t sure whether to take it or not, if you were supposed to slip yours into his, fingers intertwined. But you nodded again, that little, shy smile still on your lips that Steve hadn’t seen in so long. Together, you walked between the cabins, keeping to the treeline and the shadows, smiling fondly when you heard the giggles and whispers from inside the kids' bunks. You were almost at Steve’s car, the BMW parked up in the makeshift lot behind the gym, when you both stopped in your tracks at the sight of someone else out in the dark.

Murray was walking back from the mess hall, a mug of something hot in one hand, an oversized cinnamon bun in the other. He was in slippers and a tartan bathrobe, his jovial whistling coming to a slow stop as he spotted the two of you out of bed.

“Shit,” Steve groaned, squinting awkwardly at the man. He raised a hand, half a wave, half a sign of defeat. “Murray, we weren’t—”

“That’s weird,” Murray interrupted, looking around the wooded area theatrically, eyes wide. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.” The man shrugged before looking right through you, whistling again as he passed.

“Wha—?” You were stunned, both you and Steve pivoting in the mossy ground, brows raised.

“Must be the wind!” Murray announced again, continuing his walk back to his own cabin. “But if it was a couple of rogue staff members, I’d be sure to tell them to be back by midnight. You know. If I saw any.”

Murray turned back before he took a turn in the path. He didn’t say anything else, but he winked and raised his mug before disappearing.

—————

You didn’t ask Steve where he was driving you. Honestly, you didn’t mind. Didn’t care. The passenger seat of the BMW was as familiar as your own bed, a sense of ownership and melancholy hitting you in the chest as you clicked your seatbelt into place. Steve smiled as you tucked your knees up, legs bare and feet shoved into unlaced converse, his grin widening when you fiddled with the radio dials until the mixtape he had playing turned up a little louder.

[TWICE A FOOL BY #1 DADS]

The windows were down as Steve drove down a road you’d travelled before, the wind still warm from the heat that made the day suffocating, the smell of pine needles and wild mint lingering on it. The breeze picked at your hair and Steve’s, lifting the strands until they were brushing your cheeks and sitting between your lashes.

It was all sunburnt cheeks and sore knees, achy and bone tired from a whole summer of hikes and swimming in the lake, chasing kids who were too adventures along the creek beds and hanging from tree branches when the sun went down.

The smell of sunscreen, lake water, lemonade, Steve’s cologne, wildflowers, home.

It was a broken heart that was still splintered around the edges, the anxious gnawing feeling of the possibility of loss, of something new and unwanted, something you couldn’t control. It melted into hope, into the idea of reaching out and holding Steve’s hand until he gave you something to cling to.

Steve wouldn’t drive you somewhere pretty and quiet and peaceful, just to break up all over again. Would he?

So you sucked in a breath - pine needles and wild mint and mountain air - and reached out to where Steve’s hand lay idle on the stick shift. Your fingers brushed his, cautious, nervous and he looked from the road to you with surprised eyes. Shock turned to warmth, like he’d spent the last ten minutes wondering the same things you had, sharing the same worries. He flipped his hand, palm outstretched, waiting for you to slide yours into his.

Your thumb found the scar on the back of his knuckle, the small silver line that he got four summers ago, from helping a tiny Lucas Sinclair try archery for the first time.

So Steve kept one hand on the wheel and his other in yours, a small smile on his face that seemed so content, full of a fondness that rivalled the warm comfort of the wind in your face, the lavender shade of the sky, the way the moon was just starting to rise over the mountains in the distance.

Everything was tall trees and the distant trickle of a creek, a long road that turned to gravel and dirt and Steve. You held his hand all the way to the lake.

It was the same one you’d been to before, two years prior with Robin on a day off, Eddie and Steve trailing with you in a last minute change of plans. The last time you’d been on this shore, you’d had an odd realisation that you didn’t actually hate the boy you were supposed to hate. Now, as you toed off your shoes and stepped into the same sand, you were overcome with the urge to ask Steve if he still loved you as much as you loved him.

Anxiety rippled over you the same way the lake lapped at the shore, and you suddenly hated the silence you once cherished. You could hear the wind between the trees on the other side of the water, the quiet trickle of the creek that fed into it, the soft huffs of Steve breathing.

Neither of you said anything when Steve shrugged off his shirt, letting it drop at his feet. His shoes joined yours in a pile and you watched as he closed his eyes, just briefly, the stress leaving his body. His shoulders dropped, his jaw unclenched and when he opened his eyes again, he was looking at you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t prompt you into anything, but you pulled off your sweater too - Steve’s sweater - wiggling your hips until your sleep shorts fell and soon you were in your underwear, some cotton mismatched things that were less than enticing.

But it made Steve grin, the daisy print on your bra familiar, one he’d seen so many times before. His belt buckle clinked in the night and soon, his jeans were on the sand and he was hopping out of them as you laughed.

It was the most simple thing to do, to follow him into the water.

[SKINNY DIPPING BY SABRINA CARPENTER]

The night made the lake cooler, an inky navy thing that nipped at your skin for the first few seconds. But you let it swallow you whole, waist disappearing, shoulders dipping under, hair slicked back and eyelashes dripping beads of it.

Steve followed suit, a warmth underneath the water that your body recognised, his own hair clinging messily to his forehead as he ducked under the surface, hands brushing your ankles briefly before rejoining you. It went like that for a little while, the sky getting darker, the lake ready to copy. There were stars on the surface, a mirror-like reflection when you weren’t making ripples. So you swam circles around each other, Steve’s car parked up on the sand, the mountains in the distance, tall trees all around. There wasn’t a sound except the small splashes of water, the soft bubble of laughter when either of you swam too close and your shoulders bumped.

Steve ducked under one last time before he resurfaced, swiping at his hair before he took a breath and told you:

“Hopper offered me a job.”

You blinked at him, lips parting so you could start asking one hundred questions. But Steve beat you to it, treading water as he smiled a little shy.

“The whole, ‘Mr Harrington’ thing, that’s what that was about,” he shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. Water dripped from his chest, his neck, rolling into beads from his messy hair. “Uh, him and Murray, they’re opening this community centre for kids. S’gonna be a year round thing. After school, weekends. They, uh, they want me to manage it.”

You gaped at the boy before the smile you couldn’t contain started lifting the corners of your lips, a ridiculously happy thing that made your eyes crinkle and your cheeks ache. You thought about Steve - your Steve - running after kids all day, tired but content, paint stained and giving quiet pep talks, glitter in his hair as he clapped his hands and yelled for order.

“Steve,” your voice was almost too loud in the night. It shook, a trembling, overjoyed sound. You were so happy for him, even if you didn’t know what this meant. “You’d be perfect for it— if, if you want to take it, that is.” The unsaid hung between you, the elephant in the room that was the size of a whole other state.

Steve held your gaze and smiled nervously. “It’s in Shelbyville.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said slowly, realisation dawning on you. Things were starting to make sense now. But instead you said in a whisper, “that’s much closer than Arizona.”

Steve laughed softly as you tried not to sound hopeful, but there was a sticky, cloying ball of emotion stuck in your throat and it was barely holding back the tears. What you were almost crying for, you weren’t overly sure, but Steve moved a little closer, ankles brushing yours under the water. You could count the freckles on his nose by moonlight, you could see the faded green ink on his bicep from where El had tried to give him a ‘tattoo’ two days ago.

“It is,” Steve agreed and there was a smile on his lips, a barely there thing that you wanted to rub your thumb over. “It’s so much closer than Arizona. Like, thirty minutes on a good day.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what Steve was trying to say. Hope bloomed between every crack of your ribs like wildflowers and it was overwhelming, breath catching, it made you want to make a break for the shore and beg the boy not to crush your heart again.

“Steve—”

“I don’t want to go to Arizona,” he interrupted. “I never wanted to go to Arizona. I— fuck. You were right.”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point, I didn’t want to be proven right.”

“I know, but you were. It was all my dad,” Steve smiled and it was sad. “He came in one night after a day of golf and like, eight martinis. Told he spoke to an old friend and boom, handed me my whole future on a piece of fucking paper.” Steve laughed, dry and humourless and you moved closer still, close enough that your thighs grazed his and you could see the hurt in his eyes. “He didn’t even ask, you know? Just sat down at the dinner table and told me what I was doing for the next ten years of my life.”

You could imagine it. So easily. Michael Harrington’s imposing figure in a sharp suit and slicked back hair. You’d always wondered if it was once as wild as his son’s, if he ever liked the same music or spoke about movies and games with the boy. Michael Harrington was a straightened navy tie and a leather briefcase, polished shoes and numbers on a sheet.

“He told me he knew what was best for me,” Steve continued and his voice hit a crack that he didn’t even blink at. “He told me that he was my only chance and making something out of myself, that without his help, I’d spend my thirties and forties stacking shelves and regretting having a kid with you before we were twenty five. He told me I needed his help, even if I didn’t know it yet.”

Anger bubbled inside of you, intense and hot enough that you were surprised the water around you didn’t bubble and hiss. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “Steve, you know that’s not true right? Your dad— shit, Steve, when was the last time you ever needed your dad?”

You waited as the boy thought, confusion on his features as he struggled to recall a memory. Eventually, he shrugged. “When I was sixteen, seventeen maybe. Crashed my first car trying to show off to my friends. I was shit scared on the side of the road. Everyone else ran. I walked to a pay phone and told him I needed his help.”

You raised your brows, waiting.

“He told me to fix my own mess.”

More anger, a surge of it, pushing at your chest, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you shook your head, hands coming out of the water to finally touch Steve. You clung to his damp shoulders, still warm from the sun even now.

“You don’t need him,” you whispered fiercely. “You never needed him. Not then, not now, not for your future.”

The boy smiled, sad and tired, if not a little relieved. “I know that now.”

“I’m sorry I reacted the way I did,” you swallowed hard, pride and stubbornness going down with it. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t make it easier for you, I was just so— so sad that you were going to give everything up for something you didn’t want.” You let your hand trail to Steve’s neck, thumb brushing the spot under his ear, an unbelievably soft touch. “You know I would’ve supported you completely if it was something you wanted to do, right?”

Steve nodded, his hands finding your waist, bringing you closer.

“But finance? Fucking finance?” You made a face and Steve barked out a laugh, a sharp bright sound in the dark and it made your chest ache, hearing such a happy noise from him.

He nodded again, humming in agreement before he gave in and hid his face in your neck. “Fucking finance,” he repeated. “I hate numbers.”

You laughed too, watery and happy at being so close. His touch was overwhelming, stubble on his jaw scraping at your throat, his lips ghosting at your jaw when he smiled. “I know you do,” you whispered and god, your voice was thick with affection.

There was more silence for a minute, a long, slow moment suspended in the water, holding each other, feet brushing the bottom, your arms wound around each other. An owl called out from a tree and somewhere in the distance, a car revved its engine.

“I took the job.”

You froze, unblinking, scared to move, scared to talk. Eventually, Steve lifted his head from your neck and he studied you, waiting for your response, cheeks pink and eyes nervous looking.

You wondered if your heart had stopped beating, if the world had stopped spinning. You couldn’t fathom another reason for the stillness you felt at his words. “What?”

The boy cleared his throat, his big hands squeezing gently at your waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the band of your soaked bra. “I took the job,” he said again, a look of amazement and incredulity on his features, like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “I told Hopper yes.”

Those wildflowers? The ones filled with hope that had wound their way into your chest? They flourished, blooming bright and big until the garden grew and grew and your bones cracked with the enormity of it.

“Steve—” you tried to say more, but nothing came out.

“My dad didn’t take it all that well,” he shrugged, grinning now, like he was suddenly weightless. He looked brighter, even in the night. “Yelled a lot, but I think we’re gonna have a talk when I’m back, a good one, y’know? He didn’t seem as… fucking furious when I told him about the job.”

“In Shelbyville,” you said, like you need clarification. You wondered if this was a dream, a really mean one.

Steve laughed, grinning all pretty. “In Shelbyville,” he nodded, looking at you through his lashes, tired and happy and feeling like things might just be okay. He hoped they’d be okay. “C’mon, let’s get you dry and warmed up, yeah?”

So you let him lead you out of the lake, a blanket pulled from his trunk that the boy wrapped you in first. You let him rub at your shoulders, your chest against his, sand sticking to your feet, water dripping from Steve’s hair onto yours. You were staring at him, still shellshocked, eyes wide and disbelieving and it made him laugh; soft, sweet thing.

You dressed with eyes on each other, wandering, lazy, greedy, seeking out the bare skin that you’d missed touching, kissing. And when damp legs were pulled through shorts and Steve’s sweater was back on your frame, you crawled into the front of his car and let the boy pull your calves over the console and into his lap.

He traced shapes there, copied the constellations from above onto your skin, joining freckles and scars until they made up a Milky Way and you could let your head rest against the window, languid, happy. You weren’t sure what all of this meant for you and Steve, but you’d go back to your bed happy, knowing that Steve was.

“Shelbyville isn’t far from Hawkins,” Steve murmured softly, his cheek against the driver's seat, his eyes on you. He smiled, shy, unsure. “Maybe you could check it out with me after we get home.”

You smiled, tired, the night a yawning thing through the windscreen. It was nearing midnight, the moon above the mountains and the sand glittering on the car floor. “That sounds nice. You think you’ll move?”

Steve nodded, shrugged, nodded again. “Maybe? Eventually.” The boy swallowed, nervous. “Could find a house by a creek, big yard. Big enough for a dog.” He squeezed your knee, a longing touch. “A start of somethin’ new, maybe. Somewhere different. Us. If you’d want.”

You thought about it, about the savings you’d both piled together, the extra shifts, the clip outs of apartment listings in downtown Indianapolis neither of you really wanted but could just about afford. You thought about the late night talks with your cheek pressed to Steve’s pillow, trying to hide your smile as you both whispered about houses with flower boxes and a tree you could hang a swing from, maybe a porch, maybe a lake you could walk to on the weekends.

‘Are we fixed?’ You wanted to ask. ‘Were we broken?’ You wondered.

And maybe Steve could sense your questions, maybe he just knew you that well. His hand swept from your knee to your ankle, fingers curling around, warm and soothing. His thumb stroked over the top of your foot, playing with your untied laces.

“S’okay, if you don’t want to,” he said. “I know you’ve got your job in Hawkins, I know your family is there. I don’t— I don’t expect us to just, you know, act like nothing happened.” Steve didn’t sound as nervous as before when he said, “But I know I love you. I didn’t stop. Couldn’t— that’s not changed.”

It didn’t surprise you, not really. You knew the boy still loved you. You saw it when he looked at you, when he frowned at Billy when he got too close, spoke too boldly . You saw it when you strayed too far, when he searched for you in the crowds of campers, when he helped your drunk self into his bed, when he refused to take his sweatshirt away from you. Still, relief flooded you and your breath hitched, emotion catching in your chest. You held out a hand, palm up on your lap, fingers spread for Steve’s to link between.

He let go of your ankle to do just that, fingers twisting, his thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. He looked just as hopeful as you felt as he gazed back, all shades of navy and lavender in the night.

It was too easy to say, “I know I love you, too.”

Meet Me In The Afterglow

[YOU’RE SO COOL BY HANS ZIMMER]

The last of the kids left Camp Upside Down the way they arrived: in a flurry of colour and sticky hands, forgotten backpacks left on porches, teary eyes as they hugged their favourite counsellors.

You were left behind with Steve as the rest of the staff left one by one, more hugs exchanged along with new email addresses and promises to visit different cities and states before Christmas. And when the parking lot was just settling from clouds of dust and dirt, Steve appeared from Hopper’s office, a small folder in his hands, signed contracts and a set of shiny new keys. He twirled them around one finger, a smile on his face he was trying to tamp down with a crinkle of his nose and you raised a brow at him.

“Hey, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve let out a low whistle, joining you in between your two parked cars. He leant against his BMW and made a show of looking you over. “Oh,” he grinned. “Say that again?”

You laughed, slapping at his shoulder before pinching the papers and stealing it from him. You looked over the print, smiling warmly at the official look of it all. Full time hours, managerial role, pension plan, holiday pay. Hopper and Murray’s signatures were at the bottom with Steve’s and you looked up at him and beamed.

“Are you happy?” You asked.

Steve seemed to consider the question for a moment or two before he nodded, hair falling into his eyes that he didn’t bother brushing away. He pushed himself off his car with a foot, taking the two steps it needed to lean in close to you instead. He brushed away an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder, took it as an excuse to brush his thumb across your neck, ‘cause two months apart made him feel like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you anymore. But you did you both a favour and leaned into it, lashes fluttering when his big hand cupped your jaw. He let his thumb push softly against your bottom lip in lieu of a kiss.

“Yeah, I’m really happy, princess.” Steve let out a small laugh, a breathy thing full of surprise. “It’s stupid how I happy I am.”

You turned your head to catch his palm, pressing a soft kiss there that made the boy turn pink, a flash of affection warming his eyes and it only made him drop his hand from you to tug you closer, fingers catching the belt loops of your shorts.

“What ‘bout you?” Steve asked quietly. A hand crept up the side of your shirt, fingers seeking warm, soft skin and familiarity. “You happy?”

You nodded, pushing yourself closer to the boy, hands running over broad shoulders. It was easy to touch him again, even though your heart thundered like it was two summers ago and you were like a preteen with a crush. But you’d missed him too much to let that get the best of you.

“I’m happy,” you murmured. “We got jobs, roofs over our heads, friends, families that don’t wanna disown us—”

“Still to be determined,” Steve quipped.

You tutted. “It’ll be okay, handsome. And you’ve got me.”

Steve turned soft for you, brown eyes caramel and sugar, lips lifting back into a smile, thoughts of his parents forgotten. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. A promise. “Always got me.”

The words seemed to soothe him and if the birds above hadn’t stopped chirping at the right time, you wouldn’t have heard him whisper a ‘love you’ into your hair when he turned to kiss the side of your cheek.

“You’re gonna be a whole forty minutes away from me,” he grumbled, like it was an awful, awful thing. A hardship.

You were both - maybe more you - determined to take it slow before rushing back in. Steve asked you to help him find a new home, an apartment in Shelbyville, maybe even a small house. You’d agreed enthusiastically with the promise to talk about moving in together in six months or so. Despite the joy that leaked out of you like summer and warmth, there was a lingering sting of rejection in your chest. You knew it wasn’t the case, but you’d spent a while with thoughts that told you Steve picked Arizona over you.

“S’not far,” you told him. “I’ll stay over, you can come round on weekends, it’ll be great. We’re taking it one step at a time, remember?”

Steve stole a kiss, a barely there press because he was smiling too much. His contract was a crush of paper between you. “We’ll see.”

FIVE WEEKS LATER

Steve had found a house in Shelbyville that quickly became a home.

It was a small thing out by Big Blue River, a patch of land just outside of town where the river led into a creek and wild raspberries grew in the garden. You helped him move in, watched from your car as he hugged his mother and received a firm handshake from his dad. They didn’t help him into his new home, but they invited you both for dinner the following weekend, so it placated Steve enough.

So you spent days at your job in Hawkins, a bag of clothes always in your car so you could drive to Shelbyville after work, music blasting, engine sputtering. You’d take turns making dinner, cooking some pasta as Steve built a bookcase, a lopsided coffee table, hung up his favourite movie posters a little squint. But the house was filled with Steve and a little of you, photos of you and the boy dotted around the house, Polaroids of your friends stuck to the fridge with magnets.

It got harder to leave each time.

It got harder to leave when Steve kissed you senseless against your car in the evenings, a slow building, needy thing that came with wandering hands. It was lazy mornings with a shared pot of coffee, a bed with soft sheets that smelled like him and you, your body wash in his shower, your clothes in with his piles of laundry. It was long lies on the weekends with the promises of a walk along the river, lunch by the creek laid out on a blanket, the sun on your cheeks and Steve’s head resting on your lap as he made you laugh with stupid jokes.

Then one night your car broke down before you could make it out of the yard and Steve didn’t hesitate to pull you back into him, humming thoughtfully. He was all hands, sneaking up your skirt, pushing back your hair, lips against your neck, soft enough to make you shiver.

“Guess you’ll just have to stay,” he murmured against your jaw.

You snorted, “I need my car fixed, Steven.”

A shake of his head, his lips still on your neck. “S’a piece of shit anyway, princess, been yellin’ you for years.” It was cheeky enough for you to pinch at his side but the boy only grinned and took your face in his hands, cradling your jaw. He turned a little more serious, smile still there, but his words were determined. “I’m serious, babe. Stay. Please.”

“I just stayed all weekend,” you told him, your fingers tracing patterns along his collar. Your heart was thundering. “You’re not sick of me?”

Steve tutted, acting up. “You know that’s not what I meant. Move in. I want you to move in.” He nuzzled your cheek with his nose, smelling like cedar and mint and sunscreen. “Wanna live w’you.”

So the next day Steve gave you the keys to his car and painted the bedroom your favourite colour. You told your parents, who were unsurprised, packing up bags and boxes with your things, a bubble of excitement in your chest that you didn’t think would pop anytime soon. The drive to Shelbyville from Hawkins was like the drive to camp, and the same anticipation of a new adventure was in the air. You drove down roads lined with tall trees, wheat fields that turned golden past the old water tower, the beginnings of Big Blue River greeting you at the bridge.

And when you turned down the dirt lane that took you to Steve’s house - your house - it felt more like home than ever. The shutters were painted sage green, the flower boxes beneath the windows filled with blooms, and the old oak tree round the back looked the perfect height for a swing. A dog didn’t greet you, not yet, but Steve did, with all the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever.

Neither of you bothered with your bags, not right away, because Steve was pulling you from the front seat with a smile on his face that rivalled the sun. Steve Harrington was summer and sunscreen and lakes at night. He was mountain hikes with sixty kids, he was car racing out of town, he was sneaking out, sneaking in, he was lemonade, he was broken kayaks and hiding in the gym, he was arguing, he was kissing to make up and everything you ever wanted.

He was yours.

And he was staying here.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot

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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

Text

i got you

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank tells you the truth about how he lost his wife, and drops a heart-wrenching bombshell along with it.

warnings: swearing, angst, lots of grief, mentions of blood, death, and gun violence

word count: 4.8k

a/n: the jokes about billy and frank came from @thyme-in-a-bubble & I wondering what a sleepover would look like with them and I hope that's enough comedic relief for how heavy this one is. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Delicate kisses of warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks when peaceful rays of sunlight began to peak through the open curtains. Stirring lightly, your hand subconsciously reached out in search of the man that had been occupying your dreams for several months now. But when your fingertips found absent sheets that were cool to the touch instead, your eyes finally began to flutter open, and you soon realized that you were in a large cozy bed alone. Sitting up slowly and holding the soft sheets to your bare chest, your fuzzy brain tried to piece together your surroundings while you let out a quiet yawn, but the only thing you could focus on is what was missing.

Frank.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes gently with the heels of your hands, it finally dawned on you that you were in the master bedroom of the cabin. You remembered falling asleep on Frank’s chest next to the fireplace, and the thought that he must have carried you to bed caused a giddy school girl grin to stretch over your lips and indent into your cheeks. For a moment you just fell back against the plush pillows, letting out a content sigh and stretching out your limbs with a soft hum, relishing in the afterglow that carried over from last night. There was a slight ache between your thighs, and as you traced your own lips with your fingertips tenderly, you could still feel them buzzing from colliding with Frank’s own repeatedly last night.

For a moment, you wondered if you were still dreaming. You had never felt such raw exquisite happiness like this before that it truly didn’t feel real. How else could you explain it? Here you were, in an isolated cabin with no one around for miles, alone with Frank, waking up naked in his bed after a fireplace confession and the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. If you didn’t factor in all the hell you went through to get to this exact moment, it would’ve felt too good to be true.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and applewood smoked bacon swiftly pulled you out of your own head, and there was only one thing you wanted right now more than coffee and breakfast.

Frank.

Slipping a shirt over your head, you were making your way down the hall when something caught your eye. It must not have captured your attention yesterday, but there was another door in the hallway, and it was faintly cracked open. Out of pure curiosity, you gently pushed the door open just a smidge, causing the hinges to creak quietly. The sight you were met with caused thick confusion to weave between your brows. Against the wall to the right was a set of wooden bunk beds, complete with a ladder leading from the floor to the top. There wasn’t anything else in the room except for two sets of small wooden dressers, with four drawers each, spaced out against the left wall.

The bunk beds were made neatly, almost as if they had never been touched. The bottom bed had a navy blue comforter covering it with a hunter green pillow, while the top one had a violet purple comforter and a rose pink pillow. But as you glanced around the room, you noticed there was nothing else in it. No other furniture, no decor of any kind, nothing.

Why would Frank have bunk beds? The first explanation that popped into your head was perhaps Billy joined Frank at the cabin from time to time, and then that unleashed the image of Frank and Billy having a slumber party in the bunk beds, and then you were uncontrollably giggling to yourself while continuing your path down the hallway towards the kitchen.

As soon as you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. Frank was standing in front of the stove, without a shirt, wearing a loose pair of grey sweatpants on his hips that made it very clear he was wearing nothing underneath them. The sight of his muscular back momentarily distracted you from the fact that he was cooking bacon without a shirt on, which further cemented your belief that he may actually be a masochist. But then you caught sight of the tousled dark curls spilling from the top of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile. You had never seen Frank’s hair quite this long, and you wondered how much curlier it got when he actually let it go.

By this point you were practically salivating, but it wasn’t the freshly brewed coffee or the scent of bacon and pancakes that had you ravenous all of a sudden. While you silently observed him from where you stood in the entryway, you noticed there were faint pink lines along his tan skin, cascading down his shoulder blade. Heat quickly flushed into your cheeks when you realized that those lines were from your nails. You hadn’t had a chance to look in the mirror yet, but you were abruptly curious if Frank had left any marks of his own on your skin. God, you hoped he had.

The flex of his bicep caught your eye when he lifted his coffee mug up to his mouth to take a sip, and you couldn’t stand there silently anymore. Trying to clear the lust that had clouded your brain, you were brought back to your former curiosity about the bunk beds, and a faint smirk curled at the edge of your lips as you stepped further into the kitchen.

“So between you and Billy, who’s the top and who’s the bottom?”

Frank immediately started sputtering, nearly dropping the ceramic mug in his large hand onto the floor as he quickly spun around to look at you. His thick brows were bunched up in the center of his forehead, but his warm brown eyes were widened in bewilderment, and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand after his coughing fit settled down.

“Do what, now?”

You couldn’t help but bust out laughing at Frank’s hilarious reaction. Walking towards the cabinets, you opened a few of them until you found the mugs and glasses. As you grabbed a tall glass, you looked at Frank over your shoulder with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“The bunk beds?”

Turning your attention back to the task at hand, you poured some of the freshly brewed coffee into the glass, adding some flavored creamer and milk along with a couple ice cubes. It wasn’t the “iced” coffee you were used to, but it would suffice for this morning.

“I’m assuming you take the bottom. Something tells me Billy would probably be worried about the top bunk collapsing under your weight and ruining his pretty face.”

With your back still turned to Frank, you couldn’t see the way his expression was shifting, and he hadn’t replied to your teasing. Assuming he was probably looking at you with his usual expression of pure exasperation that always covered his sharp features when you annoyed the shit out of him with your antics, you giggled quietly to yourself and kept pushing.

“So, do you guys braid each other’s hair before, or after the face masks?”

A few moments of silence stretched on before you rolled your eyes, turning around finally to face Frank with a grin, prepared to laugh at whatever face he was giving you at the moment in response to your teasing. But the second you saw his face, your smile instantly dropped, and a pit of dread opened up in your stomach.

Frank wasn’t annoyed. He didn’t look angry either. He looked…crestfallen. His brown eyes were softened somewhat, but shining with sorrow. His lips were pressed in a line, but it wasn’t harsh, and it made him look like he was struggling to hold something back. His broad shoulders had visibly deflated, and there was a clear lump in his throat that he forcefully swallowed down. Solemnly turning to the side, he reached out and slowly turned two of the knobs on the stove all the way to the left to shut the burners off.

For a second he just stood there, his gaze locked on the floor, and you watched as he quickly clenched and unclenched his jaw. Whatever you said wrong struck a nerve within him, even harder than you had in the motel when you touched the scar on his temple and questioned its origin. Panic flared within your bloodstream the longer he avoided your gaze and stayed silent, and you desperately wished you knew what you had said wrong so that you could take it back, or at the very least apologize for it.

“They uh…they were for…”

He couldn’t meet your eyes. Frank’s voice was the softest you had ever heard it, and the internal conflict he was wrestling with was painted clearly across his face. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a heavy and deep exhale through his large nose, and then lifted his head to look in your direction after what felt like an eternity. The expression in his eyes was muddled. There were strong notes of grief, swirls of melancholy, but there also appeared to be faint traces of something that almost looked…apologetic?

“They were for my kids.”

Every molecule of oxygen was harshly forced out of your lungs with that one sentence. The immediate shock of it shielded your heart from the initial blow, and you blinked in complete dumbfoundment while staring across the kitchen at Frank. Your investigative brain swiftly kicked into overdrive as you tried to make sense of those words.

They were for my kids.

Frank didn’t have kids. He lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. He had only left your side twice in the past six months. You never heard him talking to anyone on the phone except for Billy or Dinah. And since his wife had passed, that would mean if he did have kids, he would have sole custody of them. If there was one thing you knew about Frank, it was that he was fiercely loyal, and even more relentlessly protective. If he had kids, there was absolutely no way in hell anyone could keep them away from him. A puzzled set of lines creased along your forehead while you stared back at him.

“Wait…that doesn’t…that doesn’t make any sense. You don’t have any kids, Frank. I mean, if you did…they…they would…they would be here, they would be with you. You wouldn’t let someone else-”

The heartbroken look on Frank’s face quickly cut off your rambling of denial. At that moment, you seemed to finally notice that his soft brown eyes were glimmering in the natural light filtering into the kitchen. But it wasn’t the sunlight causing the sheen. There were thick tears welling up in Frank’s eyes.

The band-aid that the initial shock provided was abruptly ripped off by that sight, and a desolate bolt of lightning struck right through your heart, cracking it in half like an unsuspecting tree in a dreadful storm. Your eyes widened in horror when the unspoken truth emerged from the embers of that destruction.

Frank hadn’t just lost his wife; he had lost his kids too.

All at once, the kitchen felt entirely too small. Your iron grip on the counter was the only thing keeping you up right. It felt as if someone had reached directly into your chest and pried your ribcage apart with their bare hands, puncturing your lungs with splinters of bone, leaving your lungs to fill up with your own blood. The stove had been shut off, but there was a heat encircling you that felt suffocating, making it hard for you to breathe. Frank looked absolutely forlorn as he took in your reaction to that painful confession.

“We uh…we were at Central Park. We had this uh…this tradition, ya’know. Every time I came home from a tour, we’d pack a picnic and go, make a whole day of it. The kids they uh…they loved that carousel, ya’know. They’d ride it so many damn times, Maria and I, we…we’d lose count.”

An overwhelming sensation of nausea flipped your stomach completely upside down. Something about the way Frank was talking caused your anxiety to skyrocket. You didn’t like how small and quiet his voice sounded, or how vulnerable it was. You didn’t like that the tears lining his bottom lash line looked like they were seconds away from falling. You didn’t like that you could feel in your gut that he was about to reveal something that would ruin you.

“I don’t uh…I don’t remember when the shootin’ started. I don’t…I can’t remember where Maria was, or my boy…I don’t…I didn’t see ‘em. But my girl…my baby girl, she…she was…I had her, ya’know…in my arms. I was tryin’ to…fix it, ya’know…keep it all in…then everythin’ just…went black.”

His voice was so low, barely a decibel above a whisper, and he faintly mumbled while fighting to get the words out. But in the silence of the kitchen you heard every syllable as clear as day. His eyes kept shifting back and forth over the floor, and you weren’t sure if it was because he couldn’t look you in the eye, or if it was because he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. Frank’s hands were loosely connected in front of him, his index and middle finger twitching repeatedly while he spoke.

In an instant, an icy chill suddenly caressed your spine. Bits of Frank’s words had triggered something in your brain, and you couldn’t figure out why. Something about it sounded…familiar. When the pieces began to align in your memory, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand in horror, and a choked sob caught in your throat.

You knew exactly what Frank was talking about, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Oh my God.”

The Central Park massacre.

Ben had covered that story when you first started interning with him three years ago. The details of that case had been…brutal. A gang war had erupted right in the middle of the park. Nine people had been murdered as a result, and several others were injured. But the worst of it was a family of four had been caught right in the middle of the crosshairs of the shootout. The mother and son died instantly due to blood loss from their wounds, but the daughter…the carnage was so bad that she couldn’t even be identified by dental records. The father had been shot in the head and had slipped into a coma on the way to the hospital, but there was never any coverage on what had happened to him after he was admitted. Ben hadn’t even allowed you to look at the crime scene photos, they were so horrific.

But for the past three years, you had always wondered about what had happened to that man. The optimistic part of you imagined he’d woken up from the coma eventually, but then you felt bad for even hoping that he would’ve. Who would want to wake up from that just to find out that their entire family had been murdered? The realistic part of you figured he had most likely died due to his injuries. After all, who survives a bullet to the head?

Never in a million years would you ever have imagined that exact man you had always wondered about for the past three years would be the one standing in front of you right now.

“That was you.”

Given the nature of the brutality, the victims' names were never released, no matter how hard the press begged for them, and the abhorrent details were watered down significantly for the media.

There was a flash of perplexity in Frank's eyes, as if he was trying to figure out how you seemed to know what he was referring to. But then he almost appeared to be relieved that he didn’t have to go further into the gruesome details.

Everything seemed to fall into place like a torrent row of dominoes. That’s why he had shut down when you asked about the scar that night in the motel. It was a physical reminder of the day his entire family was gunned down right in front of him.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Frank had just come home. He had survived months, years, of real fucking war…and came home just to, what? Have his family slaughtered in front of his face, and nearly die himself? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. How could that happen? How could that happen to him?

The sound of Frank gently shushing you and the feeling of his rough hands carefully cradling your face made you realize that you had been voicing those thoughts aloud. The calloused pads of his thumbs wiped at the wetness lingering on the tops of your cheeks, and you suddenly noticed that you had started crying at some point. Glancing up at Frank, you watched as a single tear slipped down his cheek, and that devastated you to your core.

“Frank-”

Hearing the way you sobbed his name, Frank immediately pulled you in, cradling your head delicately against his chest, carding his fingers through your hair softly while he quietly shushed you. You felt guilty. You felt so fucking guilty. Here he was opening up about the most traumatic day of his life, and yet he was the one consoling you. But you didn’t have anything to offer him in that moment. All you could manage to do was wrap your arms around him and hug onto him as tight as physically possible.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the aftermath of something so awful. To wake up from a coma, just to be told your entire family is gone. You wouldn’t have survived it. You would’ve laid in that bed, begging whatever God was listening to just put you out of your misery. How can you go on after that? Even though you had suffered a great loss of your own, and there had been moments where you wanted nothing more than to quit and give into the grief, you’d found a reason to push through it. But how do you even want to live after losing that much?

What had kept Frank going?

The half-cooked bacon and pancake batter were left abandoned on the stovetop, along with both of your coffees on the counter. The kitchen was eerily quiet and still apart from your quiet sniffling and the occasional chirps from a visiting cardinal outside. Frank held you in his lap while the two of you sat on the floor of the kitchen with his back pressed against one of the cabinets. His thick fingers carded through your hair slowly, and his lips were pressed gently against your forehead while he rocked you ever so slightly. You hadn’t released your tight hold on Frank. Your arms were still firmly wrapped around his neck, and at this point, you weren’t sure if you could ever let go. For the past fifteen minutes, the two of you had been sitting in silence; you processing the trauma of his past, and him reliving the worst day of his life all over again.

“I shoulda told you before-”

“No. No that…you told me when you were ready.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to focus on the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat and not the ache you felt for him in your own chest. A flurry of questions were swirling around in your head, and you didn’t even know where to start, or if it was the right time to even ask any of them.

“What…did you…I mean how-”

“I was angry. S’pose that kept me goin’ for awhile.”

Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose. He seemed to know what you were getting at, even if you couldn’t get all the words out. That was one of the things you had grown to love about your relationship with him. The two of you seemed to be able to understand each other in a way that didn’t require a whole lot of words. Pulling back slightly to look at him, you brought one of your hands up to tenderly hold his face, brushing your thumb lightly along his sharp cheekbone slowly.

“And when you stopped being angry?”

Frank met your gaze, his warm chocolate brown eyes meeting your own.

“I never did.”

There was a finality to those words that hurt you, and he seemed to be able to tell. He gave a gentle shake of his head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…made peace with it, ya’know…laid it to rest in my own way. But…not a day goes by I don’t think about ‘em.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerability cut right through you. Leaning in, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a moment while hugging him close and keeping your hand against the side of his face. There weren’t any words to express the varying emotions you felt for Frank right now. The anger for what had happened to him and his family. The anguish for what had been stolen from him. The grief for what he carried around with him every single day.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey hey hey, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, yeah? It ain’t your fault-”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

Frank looked into your eyes with a softened expression, the faintest of creases forming between his thick brows. The distress in your voice tugged at his heartstrings, and he gently grabbed the back of your head to pull you in so he could press a tender kiss to your forehead. His strange behavior from yesterday when you asked about the cabin now made sense. Tilting your head back a little, you looked at Frank with a soft frown tugging down the corners of your lips.

“This was a surprise project for them.”

The tiniest of melancholic smiles graced the edge of his mouth as Frank gave a slight nod of his head.

“It was. I got it a couple years ago. I meant to work on it when I would come home, I just…never got ‘round to it, ya’know? Didn’t wanna miss a moment with Maria and the kids. The last tour I came home from, I was gonna surprise ‘em though. Tell ‘em I wasn’t goin’ back, and show ‘em the cabin. I wanted to tell ‘em the night I got home, but I was just…tired. I couldn’t stay up with Maria, couldn’t play ball with the boy, or read my girl a bedtime story. Hell, I couldn’t even drink a goddamn beer. But I thought, ya’know…they’d be more excited if I tell ‘em tomorrow while we’re at the park. Make it more special.”

Frank was going to surprise them that day. He was going to surprise them and tell them that he was staying home for good, and also surprise them with the cabin. He’d been home for one day.

One day.

Everything was going to change. Frank was going to get to be home with his family. He wouldn’t have had to leave them anymore. But then everything was changed for him in the worst possible way, and now you were in a place that you didn’t belong in. A place that was meant for his wife and kids that they never got to step foot in. A fresh wave of tears poured from your eyes as an insurmountable amount of grief and guilt crashed into your heart like a merciless tidal wave.

“Hey hey…c’mere. S’alright, sweetheart. Everythin’ is, yeah? C’mon, I don’t want you to cry. Breaks my heart every goddamn time seein’ you cry, baby.”

He wiped under your eyes and along the tops of your cheeks gingerly with the pads of his calloused thumbs, cradling your face in his large hands while letting out a heavy sigh.

“Look, I can’t sit here and tell you one day it ain’t gonna hurt like hell, cause it’s always goin’ to. I mean…I ain’t even gotta tell you that. You already know it. You already know how it feels to miss someone you can’t get back.”

Softly wrapping your hands around Frank’s wrists while he held your face, you nodded your head slowly while staring at him with eyes full of sorrow. You did know that feeling. You had felt it every single day since your mom had passed. But you hadn’t lost her the way Frank had lost his family. She was taken from you in a way, but nothing even remotely close to what Frank endured. At least you had gotten to say goodbye.

Frank took in the somber expression haunting your features, and he let out another deep sigh. He tenderly stroked his thumb along your cheek, searching the depths of your eyes for the words he wanted to say that could lift the heaviness that had settled in the space between you.

The most heartbreaking thing about this revelation was knowing that Frank had been alone. You had known from the start that he kept to himself, apart from his friendship with Billy, and…whatever it was he had with Madani. And based on the way he had spoken about his parents, it was clear they had already passed some time ago. But then he lost his entire family. Hell, he had even lost parts of his own identity. For the past three years, Frank hadn’t had anyone but himself.

“You’ve been alone.”

Frank was still gently stroking his thumb along your cheek in an effort to comfort you. His other arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close to his chest. Hearing the delicate concern in your voice, the edges of Frank’s lips tugged upwards in the most miniscule of smiles.

“I ain’t alone no more. I got you.”

He tilted his head faintly in your direction to get his point across, pressing his thumb lightly against your lips, and warmth suddenly blossomed within your heart. Letting out a soft breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, pressing your forehead against his tenderly once again while a fleeting smile graced your lips as you kissed his thumb gently.

“You have me.”

While he leaned in to press the softest and sweetest of kisses to your lips, Frank ran his large hand through your hair in a comforting way once again, and then looked into your eyes in complete adoration.

“You’re the first good thing I’ve had in a long time, sweetheart. A long goddamn time. I want you to know that.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your rib cage as you gazed into those warm coffee irises that had captivated you from the very moment you met Frank. Something about him had drawn you in from that first introduction. Even though he had been stoic and closed off, there had been a spark there that lit an ember which had been steadily growing ever since.

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you hugged onto him and rested your head on his shoulder while closing your eyes, inhaling the comforting scent that was uniquely and wholly Frank.

“So are you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, you could tell Frank heard you by the way he embraced you even tighter against his chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

While you sat there in his arms, it began to occur to you that your appreciation for your bodyguard had steadily evolved into something greater than you originally thought. It was something deeper, and far more profound than just simple admiration. Every time Frank was around, your restless tension and incessant anxiety seemed to vanish, because you knew that you were safe with him. You didn’t filter your words, or tone down your personality, or even give into the effort of putting on a mask, because you didn’t have to with Frank.

There was a subtle seed that had been planted within your heart months ago that had been languidly blossoming into something you had never been able to grasp before. It was something magical and terrifying you had only ever dreamed of discovering, and it was beginning to become clear that it was something you had possessed the entire time.

Every crooked smile, every bellow of laughter, and every lingering stare unleashed a basket of butterflies to flutter around aimlessly in your stomach. You could hear it pounding within your chest and feel the heat of it nipping at your bones. It called to you in the subconscious of your dreams, and the taste of it was still tingling on your lips. It had been under your nose all along.

You were in love with Frank.

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#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

Text

— JUMP ON INTO THE FIRE

SUMMARY : ben liked her more than he thought he did, more than he’d ever admit to her or himself.

PAIRING : soldier boy x supe!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : hughie campbell, billy butcher

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw (18+), smut, implied misogyny, breeding kink, angst, feelings?, drug/alcohol use

WORD COUNT : 4.4k

A/N : title from a song by radio company. I keep procrastinating on posting, but a bunch of inspirational posts keep popping up telling me to JUST POST. so, I’m being brave and posting, heheh x

Ben had been restless all day.

He stared at Y/N, but she focused on whatever Butcher was saying. She usually repeated what Butcher had said when Ben asked her and no one really cared that he doesn’t listen to the stuff in between. As long as he had orders he wanted to follow through with, they seemed fine with him being the way he was.

He took advantage of it.

He took advantage of a lot of things. For example, he took advantage of the fact that Y/N was attracted to him and that she was a quiet fuck. Still, the afterglow of her orgasm remained for a few hours, nearly giving away what they’d secretly been up to. Her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, her swollen lips and the way she was relaxed when she’d been uptight and wound up all day from trying to come up with ways to bring down Homelander.

She was also a supe, which he thought was great for the intensity of the sex they had. She could handle him and could take more of what he wanted than a human would have been able to. He just didn’t like it when she used her powers to control him and stop him from initiating anything with the boys around.

He got the hint. He rolled his eyes at her when he stood behind her, pressing himself against her ass, humming as if he were listening to a word Hughie said. Hughie was complaining to Butcher about something, and usually, everyone jumped in to say their piece and that’s when he’d make his intentions clear to her. He’d feel a tightening sensation around his chest and he’d huff out in annoyance, knowing it was her that was telling him to stop.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and started to smoke one. He knew she hated when he did that and she narrowed her eyes at him when he puffed a little white cloud against the side of her face. Her eyes began shining a golden colour and an invisible shield stopped the second puff of smoke from blowing against her face, and he smirked at her, walking away to smoke by the window.

He hoped the boys would leave soon and that when they did, they’d make Y/N stay with him so he could finally bury himself inside her. He didn’t like keeping it a secret that they were fucking, but she always recoiled from his touch, so much so that he heard Hughie asking her if she was uncomfortable with him.

She brushed it off as Ben being himself and wanting to fuck all living creatures with tits. She even had the audacity to say that Ben preferred saggy grannies over someone as young and tight as herself. Hughie blushed at her obscene words, so flustered by her smirk that his mouth just opened and closed hilariously.

Ben spanked her for that when they finally fucked, her cute little ass was red and hurting from the sting of his hands. Unfortunately, she’d healed from that quickly, but it was enjoyable in the moment, for both of them. Even if she didn’t say it, even if she whined about it, he knew she liked it.

On his second advance, he’d passed by in front of her. He could have just walked behind her, but he moved in front of her, squeezing her ass while everyone argued for the second time about their approach. It was really unnecessary on his part, but the glare she shot at him made him laugh, deep and genuine that he was almost scared for feeling happiness and maybe a little something else that he wouldn’t admit to himself.

So, he went to his room with the intention of jerking off, but he found himself unable to go past the edge of his orgasm. Instead, he decided to suit up. He figured they’d leave again at some point because they had been discussing who should or shouldn’t go. And after about an hour and a half, they all left without telling him anything.

It irritated him, but once he stopped hearing them, he abandoned the computer where he was watching porn—hoping to get himself in the mood for a quick wank, but he just couldn’t and just stared blankly at it—feeling horny, but unable to cum. He grabbed another cigarette, smoked it on his way out of his room, looking for a sign that someone was still here. But, truthfully, he was just hoping to find Y/N still here.

He could smell food, his stomach growled upon catching a whiff of it and he walked towards the kitchen, and found just who he was looking for. He smirked, “finally, a woman in the kitchen without having to be told.” He knew it would get a rise out of her to say that, and he enjoyed her attitude when he made comments like that.

He put his cigarette in the ashtray, making sure it went out all the way so she wouldn’t tell him off before he sat down at the table. His legs were wide open and his arm was on the wooden surface, his eyes tracing the curves of her body in the tight sweater and jeans.

“Fuck off, I’m not here for your pleasure, I’m hungry,” she told him, looking over her shoulder to glare at him with irritation. He laughed loudly, wiping his mouth with his thumb to which she rolled her eyes. She turned the stove off and started to serve herself some of the food she made: waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs.

“Breakfast for dinner?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Cravings,” she shrugged, putting too much strawberry jam on her waffles and an equal amount of whipped cream. He perked up a little at the word, his cock stirring in his suit at the idea of having gotten her pregnant. She started to put raspberries and strawberries on them, then laughed softly to herself when she finished.

“Cravings?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She moaned softly when she took a bite and he palmed his stiff cock, nearly growling at the sounds she was making. He was only getting harder with the hope that he somehow got her pregnant in at least one of the occasions in which they fucked.

“So fucking good,” she moaned, just like she’d say when he fucked her. “Want some?” She asked, finally turning around and licking away some whipped cream from her lip, sucking on her fingers. He stopped touching himself immediately and acted casually when he pulled his gloves off his hands.

“Yours are too sweet,” he grumbled, his eyes dropped down to her breast. Her nipples poked the soft, grey cotton, the zipper as low as Starlight’s suit so he could see her cleavage.

“I’ll serve you some, but you’re putting whatever you want on them. I’m not your mother,” she said seriously, grabbing a plate for him from the cabinets. He bit his lip, the sweater rising up to reveal the smooth skin on her back. She returned to the stove, serving him the last two waffles and the last of the bacon and eggs.

She put his plate in front of him and brought him all the toppings, ignoring him the rest of the time, to eat her waffles at the counter.

“You’re not gonna sit?” He asked casually, but his voice had a hint of disapproval in it. She easily caught the tone and turned to look at him, rolling her eyes. She grabbed her plate and sat down on the chair closest to him.

“Happy?” She asked, digging into her food when he huffed in response rather than answering with his words. He stared at her with raised brows, watched how slowly she ate and how she enjoyed every overly-sweet bite of her meal. “What?” She asked, pouting at him unintentionally.

He smiled and shook his head, “you’re eating like a pregnant woman,” he commented offhandedly, adding the toppings he wanted. She kicked his leg, despite not being offended by it. She told herself she was just annoyed by everything he said, but deep down she knew she cared about him. He glared at her. “I didn’t mean it in an offensive way,” he defended himself.

“I know,” she shrugged indifferently, “I just think you’re annoying.”

He continued to glare at her, watched her eat her bacon and eggs while completely ignoring him and the glare he was shooting at her. Had he been Homelander, she’d be cut in half; bloody and dead. He grabbed the leg of her chair to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist to move her onto his thigh.

“I think you need to be fucked,” he said gruffly. His free hand began zipping her sweater down to reveal her naked chest to him. She grunted, annoyed by his blunt words, turning around in his lap when wiggling free wasn’t an option. She brought her plate closer and started to eat, finishing up with her waffle when he started to unbutton her jeans.

“This isn’t an invitation,” she said, smacking his hand away. “I made food, eat it,” she ordered, getting off his lap, and this time he let her go. He blinked at her, his eyes glued to her every movement, narrowing when she started to wash her plate, which she then placed in the dishwasher.

“Don’t order me around, Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and beautiful. It still had an effect on her that both aroused her and made her want to punch him. He crossed his arms over his chest and she rolled her eyes for the thousandth time today, and all the times it was because of him. “And stop rolling your eyes at me.”

She turned to face him again, unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them and leaving them in the middle of the kitchen with her sweater right on top of them. She stood in front of him, naked, except for the light blue underwear she was wearing and her grey socks.

“Please, eat my food, Ben,” she said sweetly, but he knew she was pretending, mocking him, teasing him. “And after, I’ll let you fuck me,” she used the same tone, stepping between his legs. Her hands held his face, silky and warm like the waffles she made, they moved until she buried her fingers in his soft hair.

“And if I want to fuck you first?” He asked, hooking his fingers on her underwear and tugging them down her legs. She let him do it, leaned down to kiss him hungrily, the taste of sugar on her tongue made him moan, but before he could get the upper hand and deepen the kiss, she pulled away.

“The food will get cold,” she stated with an infuriating amount of calmness. He hesitantly pulled away from her and started to eat his food. She grinned at him triumphantly and picked up her clothes from the floor, his eyes on her ass the whole time.

“Where are you going?”

“Just putting this in my room, I’ll wait for you there,” she told him, a little confused.

“No, you’ll come back down and I’ll fuck you on the table,” he told her casually. She stared at the table and he could tell she was imagining all the possibilities. After taking his request—or his order, really—into consideration, she smiled at him and nodded, making her way out of the kitchen completely naked. “Shit;” he murmured, shaking his head.

She really was something.

By the time she returned, he’d nearly finished. He may have eaten a little too fast, but she didn’t make a comment about it, just leaned against the doorframe as if she wasn’t a walking temptation. When he finished, he pushed the plate aside and she inspected it, as if he would leave any food when he had been starving before he came into the kitchen.

She smirked at him, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes made him suspicious about her intentions when she took his plate. She walked to the sink to wash it too, slowly. He rolled his eyes, started to remove most of his armour, the vest, utility belt, until he was only in the zipped-up shirt, boots, and his pants.

She dried her hands with a towel and smirked at him, “why’d you put all that on, anyway?” She asked, looking to the side where the curtain was drawn, the orange sunlight from the sunset leaking through. She covered her chest and made her way over to close it.

“Leave it,” he told her. His gruff voice made her lick her lips. She smiled to herself before turning around to face him. He stood behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the neighbourhood and turned her back around to face it. He slapped her ass hard, revelling in her little gasp, and massaging the flesh gently. “You’re so fucking hot,” he praised, watching the neighbors go about their day.

Ben hoped someone would look at her when one of his hands cupped her warm breast, pinching her already tightened nipple. He was rough with her, squeezing her chest roughly, his other hand had travelled down her tummy, where he wanted to fill her up and make her pregnant. His hand kept going lower, her back arched against his chest, her head rested on his shoulder, panting already with her eyes closed.

“Little whore,” he murmured, the sound vibrating through his chest and against her back. She puffed out an irritated breath, but when his fingers found her entrance, the lubrication of her pussy coating his fingers, she moaned with him. His fingers slid freely through her folds and he found her clit just as he watched the guy he had a quick chat with the other day—Clark, who was married—walk by the window about to close the curtains to his home.

Instead, Clark watched. At first, surprised at what he was seeing but when he saw Ben, fear made him close the curtains quickly. Ben chuckled, satisfied with the reaction, nearly missing Y/N’s sweet moans and the way she squirmed in his arms. He removed his hand from between her legs, licked his fingers clean and started to walk her to the table, but first, he wanted some payback.

He sat down with her in his lap, watched her shift a little to look at him over her shoulder with a puzzled expression on her face. She still looked forward, waiting patiently for what he was going to do to her. He hummed softly at her submission, kissed her shoulder tenderly, appreciative of the way she shivered.

He smoothed his hands up and down her sides, spread her legs with his own, but completely neglected her pussy to resume playing with her breasts. She could feel his warm breath by her ear, tickling her skin, with his fingers rolling her nipples between his fingertips, pinching them almost harshly, but mostly it felt good. So good, she started to squirm in his lap.

“I know what you’re doing, Ben,” she whispered, moving her hands from her thighs to rest above his hands.

“Getting you warmed up?” He asked, playing innocent. She took one of his hands and moved it down between her legs where it was before.

“Teasing me, you asshole,” she chuckled, tipping her head back on his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He laughed, humouring her by bringing his fingers down to her soppy cunt, gathering her arousal and unhurriedly brushing his fingers up and down her clit. She groaned in annoyance, her calves wrapping around his own. She moved a little, her torso twisting carefully to look him in the eyes. “I hate you,” she huffed, squirming in his lap and he tightened his grip around her so she wouldn’t fall out of his lap.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered, smirking at her. She chose to ignore him and snickered to herself, letting her eyes fall shut to enjoy the slow pace of his fingers keeping her on the edge. He purposely began to avoid her clit, feeling the new wave of wetness from her entrance, circling, teasing.

He cupped her pussy, slid two fingers into her soaked cunt and started to push them in and out of her. Languidly, he curled his fingers inside her, let his palm massage her clit so slowly the only thing that kept her on the edge was the fact that it was him touching her. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve been drier than sandpaper and she’d be sitting there in complete and utter boredom.

“Ben,” she panted, reaching out to grip the table in front of her. She slowly began fucking herself against his fingers, moaned his name softly, wondering in the back of her mind if Ben would even let her cum like this. It felt good, his fingers brushed against her g-spot in this position, and he started to grind his palm against her clit the faster she went.

He let her cum this time, her walls pulsed around his fingers, and her hips slowly came to a stop. She didn’t bother catching her breath when she moved off his lap and turned around to face him. She bit her lip, watched him sit back in the chair, a curious look on his face, waiting for her to do something if she had anything in mind.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, lifted his cum-soaked fingers up to his lips and he happily took them into his mouth. While he licked his fingers clean, she zipped his suit down, her lips immediately pressed against his exposed skin, marking his warm body, as her hands worshipped him. He gazed down at her, casually brushing her hair out of her face, his teeth digging into his plump lip.

He lifted his hips off the chair when she tugged his pants and boxers down his hips. Her eyes were on his for a few seconds, full of lust and excitement. He expected her mouth on his dick, but instead she stood up to sit in his lap and she leaned forward to kiss him breathless.

Her fingers slipped through his soft hair and she shimmied her hips forward impatiently, grinding her soaked pussy over his cock. He groaned against her mouth, kissed her back with equal force and passion. One of his hands tangled in her hair and the other grabbed her waist to pull her closer, stopping her from moving her hips against his just to lift her up.

Without breaking the kiss, he stood up from the chair, stopping when his thighs hit the wooden table. He sat her down on it, pulled away from her lips, breathless and hungry for her. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid the soft weeping head through her folds teasingly. “You’re mine,” he murmured, just taking her in. Her eyebrows went up slightly at his words, but she didn’t mind the sentiment.

“Yours…” she mumbled in agreement, finding that she liked the way that sounded. Her fingers tightened in his long hair, just to hear him grunt. Her head tipped back and her lips parted when he focused his teasing on her clit. He latched his lips to her exposed throat, teeth grazing her skin, mouth sucking gently, his tongue soothing the marks he left behind.

“Gonna finish inside you again,” he murmured against her neck.

She chuckled, “why?” She spread her legs anyway, the throbbing of her clit becoming intense with each teasing stroke of his cock. He didn’t answer, he just lifted his face from her neck and smirked at her as he guided his cockhead to her entrance.

“Don’t you like it?” He asked with a grin, pushing in and almost pulling out of her all the way slowly. He stared into her eyes, biting his lip seductively.

“Your cum inside me?” She smirked, squirming a little before wrapping her legs around his slim waist. “Why do you like it?” He pulled his hips back and pushed back into her, he went slow, considered her words and debated on whether to tell her or not. But when she pulled his hair with one hand and grasped his chin with the other, roughly bringing him in for a kiss, he stopped thinking so much about what to answer.

“To have a fucking baby with you,” he grunted against her lips.

She pulled away from the kiss, completely breathless, and blinked up at him in surprise. He didn’t give her much time to let it sink in. He gently pushed her back on the table, and her hands released his face. He watched her lips part, ready to respond, but he grabbed her hips to stop her and thrusted into her harshly.

She dug her fingernails into his arm, gasping at the pace and the force of his thrusts that shook the table beneath her. She laughed breathlessly anyway, her walls clamped down on his cock as punishment, a long moan slipping past his lips at the feeling. Her legs remained wrapped around his hips and he smirked down at her still, seeing a defiant sparkle in her eyes that he couldn’t kill, no matter how many times he reprimanded her.

“Why me?” She raised a brow, licking her dry lips.

“I like you,” he shrugged, not wasting a single second to think.

She blushed, felt a little flattered for once as he fucked her. He treated it like it was nothing, but her silence showed him that it revealed a little too much, so he brought his thumb to her clit to take her attention away from his words.

He rolled his hips against hers, kept his thrusts sharp and deep, expertly brushing against her g-spot until she was arching her back off the table. Her legs squeezed his waist, a strangled moan tore from her throat, and her walls clamped down on him. He continued to rub her clit, drawing quick circles at first, her fingers tightening on his forearms as her walls pulsed.

The fire in his own stomach boiled over until he spilled inside her, cursing softly under his breath and muttering her name at the way her orgasm triggered his. Warmth spread through her walls, and he slowed both the thrust of his hips and the circles on her clit until her muscles relaxed on the table. He stood above her, let go of her hip to admire the way she shined so prettily after her orgasm.

“You think I’m annoying,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath. He chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in such a lovely way, he almost didn’t seem so intimidating and big anymore.

“Just be mine, angel,” he smiled down at her, his eyes glittering earnestly. It pulled at her heart, her stomach clenched, and he seemed so human.

“If that’s what you’re into…” she trailed off, trying to brush his words off, but inwardly, she was swooning. She pushed him away instead of being open and giving him the same vulnerability, hurt crossed over his face, but she was too busy avoiding his eyes to notice.

When he slipped out of her, he watched his cum start to ooze out of her, but this time, he was too caught up in his hurt to be aroused at the thought of getting her pregnant. She was behind her for the hand towel to clean herself up and he didn’t say anything, he just quietly lifted his pants and helped her down the table once she’d finished cleaning herself.

He took her face in his hands, in an attempt to make things less awkward, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be heated, but it ended up being a gentle one. A gentle kiss that she reciprocated for a heartbeat or two before she pulled away after regaining her wits to brush past him casually with the towel in one hand to wash it herself.

He blinked at the back of her head, a bunch of emotions bubbling up his chest, giving him whiplash and overwhelming him. He let his hands fall from where they were still holding the ghost of her face, a scowl replacing the peaceful expression that had been on his face.

“Forgot to tell ya,” she turned around to face him and he forced a smile. “They’re going after the TNT Twins in a few days, so.. be ready for that,” she informed him casually. “Herogasm,” she feigned enthusiasm, and turned away from him to go to her room upstairs.

“Fuck,” he groaned angrily, sliding a hand down his face.

He looked around the kitchen with irritation, found the drugs he kept hidden in the cabinet wall and took the best bottle of bourbon hidden in another cabinet. He opened the pill bottle, dumped a few on the table where he’d fucked her, and took his knife from the floor, using the eagle head to crush the pills to dust.

He kicked the chair forward with a foot to sit in it. Once he was lined up in front of the white power on the table, he leaned down and sniffed a long line of the crushed pills. He sighed in relief, cleaned his nose of traces of white powder before he opened the bourbon. He stared at it, swirled the golden liquid in the bottle as he thought about what he’d said to her. I like you? He scoffed with a shake of his head, be mine?

He felt more anger towards himself than he felt for her. Heat crawled up his face, shame and embarrassment made his hot cheek twitch and he downed about half the bottle for saying what he said. He replayed the look on her face, hated himself for feeling hurt by her indifference, but could he blame her?

➥ all i wanna do

taglist

@syrma-sensei

main masterlist

soldier boy masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy smut #the boys smut #3.1

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skzdust · 5 months ago

Note

Can I request a Han fic where the reader is an idol under JYP who also happens to be Chan's little sister?

I thought I wouldn't have much time to write recently but I LOVED this idea so I worked on it last night and today on my lunch break and I finished it!

This was such a fun one to work on, thanks for the request and I really hope you like it!

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Intimate

Summary: You went to your brother Chan's place crying, but you found his roommate Han Jisung instead.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!idol!reader

Word count: 1k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Includes: fluff, hurt/comfort, pie as a comfort food, cuddles, sharing a bed (sfw)

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

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You knocked on the door and stepped back, shuffling your feet on the hallway carpet.

You’d been hoping it’d be your brother Chan who opened the door, but you weren’t so lucky. It was Han Jisung, who’d always been mostly nice but teasing to you. You didn’t need teasing right now.

“Y/n! Are you looking for Chan—oh, what’s wrong?” His voice was colored with worry as he saw the tear tracks on your face.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, pushing past him and walking into the living room to flop face-first on the couch.

“I think he’s in the studio right now.”

“It’s four in the morning.” You mumbled. “Why is he in the studio?”

“Dunno.” You heard one of the chairs in the room squeak slightly as Jisung sat down. “He does that sometimes, especially when he can’t sleep. He goes and works on music.”

“Mph.” You groaned. You could understand that, you did the same, writing songs for your group in the dead of night. You’d been hoping to wake Chan up, though, not miss him entirely.

“Is there… do you want to talk about it?” Jisung asked hesitantly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You considered for a moment, worried Jisung might make fun of you if you told him the truth.

If he does tease me, I can just leave and text Chan. You reassured yourself.

You tilt your head sideways so you’re not talking into the pillow. “I totally messed up in practice for this music video last night and I’m worried I’ll be dropped or something. We’re about to debut, and we have to be, like… perfect.”

Jisung hummed thoughtfully. “And that was last night? Your debut is set for… less than a month, right?”

“Three weeks and four days.”

“Been thinking about it?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

“I get it. It’s terrifying.”

You looked up at him over your shoulder. “Not going to poke fun at me?”

Jisung tilted his head, confused. “No? You’re crying. You know, I only do that when I’m joking around. I never mean it genuinely.”

“It still hurts sometimes.” You sat up, hugging the pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung cleared his throat. “I guess… I go too far sometimes.”

You nodded, new tears forming in your eyes. “I appreciate that.”

“Oh, did I say something wrong?” He leaned towards you.

You sniffed. “No, I’m just… emotional, I guess.”

“Here, I have a solution.” Jisung stood up and walked into the kitchen. You watched him go, curious. You heard the fridge open and close, and he walked back in with a plate of pie and a fork.

“Oh, that’s my favorite kind.” You smiled.

“Yeah. I remembered you mentioning it a little bit ago and I thought I’d give it a try.” Jisung shrugged, holding the plate out to you. “It was pretty good, but I got a lot, and I had some extra.”

You took the pie and took a bite. It was delicious, comforting, and exactly what you needed. “Thank you.” You said, your mouth full.

He laughed, and you were suddenly struck by how cute he was when he was genuinely happy.

Although I’ve always kind of found him attractive…

“I’m glad you’re liking it.” He sat back down and held out his hand. “Here, let me have a bite.”

You held out the plate. “Should you… new fork?”

“I don’t care.” He took it. “Do you?”

“No.” You said, your face heating up.

“You’re all red!” Jisung grinned. “You do care!”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, unable to hold back your smile.

He took a bite, then gave the plate to you. You broke off a piece of the pie with the fork, hesitated for a moment, then took the bite. You handed it back to him, and he had another bite, too.

It felt intimate.

When the pie was finished, Jisung set the plate down on the coffee table. “Did that help?”

“Yeah.” You leaned back. “Why are you still up, anyway?”

He pointed to the TV, where a show was paused. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Is something up?”

He didn’t look at you. “No.”

“I told you mine.”

He sighed. “I guess I’m in a similar boat to you. I’m really struggling with some choreography, and I think Minho is annoyed with me at this point.”

“Yeah, I definitely understand that.” You nodded. “But if you want to get good at the choreo, you should probably get some sleep, you’re not gonna be able to dance tomorrow if you’re exhausted.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Says you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my place.” You said softly. “One of my roommates was mad at me about… tonight.”

“Sleep here, then.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You shook your head. “I don’t like couches, I’ll be brave and go home and lay in bed or something.”

Jisung thought for a moment. “I have an idea, if you’re up for it.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“We could both sleep in my bed. Maybe having someone else close would help.”

The part of you that had a crush on Jisung went wild.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You smiled.

“Nice.” He stood up. “C’mon.”

You followed him down the hall and to his room, which you’d never been in before. It was a little messy, but you could tell he was organized. His bed was mussed up, like he’d been tossing and turning. Given what he’d told you, he probably had been.

He pulled back the covers and motioned for you to get in. “Get comfy.”

You did so, getting into the bed and pulling the comforter over yourself. You were suddenly exhausted, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. The bed dipped when Jisung got in.

You got an idea. “Jisung?”

“Hm?”

“Can we, um, cuddle? I’m just feeling a bit lonely, and I think it’d be nice, and I… I dunno, we don’t have to.” You rambled.

“‘Course we can.” Jisung opened his arms, and you scooted into them.

He was warm, and solid, and comforting, and safe.

Intimate.

You felt content for the first time since your disastrous practice as you cuddled into his chest.

“Chan might kill me.” He muttered, his embrace tightening a bit.

“No, he won’t.” You closed your eyes. “Chan’ll be fine.”

“Even if he did, it would be worth it.” He said with a soft laugh.

That was the last thing you heard before you fell into sleep.

#stray kids #han #bang chan #han jisung #han jisung x reader #idol!reader #han x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fic #skzdust writes

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ode2rin · 2 years ago

Text

it's all me, just don't go

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. post-argument, hurt/comfort this time (^o^) | fluff too actually (?)

warnings. swearing, and probably a lil ooc rin .. well he's a bit of a loser here (i like loser men) this is also not proofread basically wrote it on a whim T_T i also listened to "afterglow" by taylor swift while writing hehe so it's a bit inspired to that

note. it's the part 2 of this | i'm supposed to be figuring this whole platform out but instead made a part 2 of the rin fic bec he got me in chokehold istg

before you could make up your mind, you felt the door knob twisting, startling you. you froze, heart pounding against your chest. as the door swung open, it revealed a distraught rin hastily trying to wear his coat.

your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you were both suspended in time.

itoshi rin was not known for being a man of many words, but for you, he rehearsed every possible apology he could think of as he’ll search for you in every street around. he would’ve apologized a hundred times over if it meant you would return home to him. if you’re not ready to come home with him, he’ll leave you alone. he’ll leave the apartment, if it means you’ll stay where he knows you’re safe. he’ll tell you he’ll be good for you. fuck, he’ll be the best for you. he would have changed his ways, toned down his ego, anything to prove his love to you. he’ll tell you anything, just please, for the love of whatever divine forces watching over him, please come home.

he prepared a lot to say, a lot to make up for. he never prepared for a staring contest with you right now. rin’s hands ached to hold you. he wants – needs to fucking hold you so close, feel your warmth and know that you were still his. but every thought and intention he had practiced vanished in the face of your presence, leaving him at a loss for words.

rin saw the hurt in your eyes, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt in his chest. he had hurt you, and seeing the pain written so plainly on your face made him ache inside.

but the hurt in you was no longer remnants of the argument you had, it was because of your lover standing in front of you right now.

as rin’s eyes met yours, you noticed that his eyes were slightly red-rimmed and there was a streak of dried tears in his cheeks. at the realization that rin had been crying, you felt your heart lay down in pieces. you knew how rin’s mind tends to jump into the brinks of overthinking. he must’ve thought you’re never coming back, hence him leaving the apartment and going after you.

the sight of him was far from what the world thought about itoshi rin. this was no egoist.

no, this was a man, vulnerable and afraid, his heart laid bare for you to see.

and in that moment, you knew, no longer a shred of doubt clouding your mind, that you definitely seen past beyond his walls.

you wasted no time breaking the suffocating silence that enveloped you both, your voice low and small as you uttered a timid “hi.” you couldn't bear to look into rin's eyes, instead opting to cast your gaze downward as you tried to form coherent sentences. “i'm sorry for leaving,” you managed to say, your words strained with regret. “i just needed some fresh air, and i thought maybe you wanted some time alone. i'm sorry–”

before you could continue, rin's towering frame engulfed you in a tight embrace. you felt his arms wrap around you protectively, and you couldn't help but lean into him. "you have nothing to apologize for, it was on me," rin murmured, his voice soft and laced with guilt. he wondered why the hell were you even apologizing when you had done nothing wrong but love him, despite being a huge asshole.

you were about to reply, but rin beat you to it, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "i'm so fucking sorry, baby. i didn't mean any of the shit i told you. i'm sorry i hurt you. i lashed out at you for things you never did, and i took it out on you because i was scared over something so fucking lukewarm." you could hear the sniffling between his words, but you didn't mention it, instead burying your face further into his chest as he held you tighter.

rin's grip on you intensified, as if he was afraid he'd lose you if he let go. he took your silence as a cue to cradle your face in his palms and press your foreheads together, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“i’m sorry. i’ll be good to you, y/n. just please, don’t leave..” me. rin couldn't bring himself to say it, the mere thought of losing you driving him to the brink of madness.

he closed his eyes, unwilling to see your face and see a trace of rejection or any thought of you leaving him. for a moment, it felt like rin couldn't even breathe. the silence between you was again suffocating, and he knew he needed to hear something, anything. "please, y/n. say something," he implored, desperation evident in his tone.

“open your eyes, rinnie” at the sound of his nickname rolling off your lips, he hesitantly opened his eyes to look at you.

glad he did, because you’re smiling.

it took one smile. one fucking smile from you, and itoshi rin felt he can breathe again.

“will you let me let you go?”

“fuck no.”

you let out a small chuckle at the speed of his answer, all with his familiar snarky voice. you placed your hands in his cheeks and you can see the relief wash over rin's face at the gesture.

he looks at you as if you're his lifeline, and in this moment, you are.

“you better not. because i’m not going anywhere, rin.” you say, your voice filled with conviction.

“i'm never letting you go,” he whispers, his eyes still locked onto yours.

you both stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of your embrace. for the first time in a while, everything feels right.

tomorrow, you know there will be more apologies and a lot of talking. tomorrow, both of you will try harder to be better for each other. and tomorrow, hand in hand, you and rin will face whatever lies ahead.

but tonight, both of you will let your fragile hearts hold on to each other and your frantic minds to be at peace in each other’s arms. tonight, itoshi rin will spend every second convincing himself that you’re his to love and here to stay. tonight, he will love you better.

#☁️ my ode to you #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock x reader fluff #itoshi rin x reader fluff #pls take it easy on me i'm new here and i don't know shit #i'll cry

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thebeholdingsblog · 4 months ago

Text

Will Graham | NSFW Alphabet

TW: MinorsDNI, GN!reader, various kinks, allusion to dubcon but not really (it's clearly stated that he would never), a whole lot of smut, potentially dark subject matter

A = Aftercare

The afterglow is when he finds himself not occupied by thoughts about his work for once, so he likes to just lay in bed and hold you. For him it's the calm before the storm inevitably breaks over him again, so he embraces moments like that as much as he can, caressing you and taking his time before cleaning the both of you up with soft words of praise and encouragement scattered inbetween pauses of compfortable silence. He wants to bask in the feeling of having you on his bare skin for as long as he is able to.

B = Body part

Will is mostly insecure about his performance, not his looks, so on himself it's his stomach, he can appreciate the fact that it's well muscled but still soft.

On you it's your hips, his hands often find them, tracing the bones and eventually the sensitive skin below them as he takes great care to take his time and he feels like they are just meant to be held in place by his rough palms. Aside from that it's the place where your neck transitions into your shoulders, he finds himself nipping at it gently and nuzzling it often. Beeing honest though, everything about you is the sheer image of unrivaled perfection in his eyes. If he knows that you are particularly insecure about a part of yourself he will take care to give it extra attention until you see yourself from his point of view, even if he needs to make a you a whining mess to do so.

C = Cum

Inside of you, the feeling of your walls wrapping around him has a hold on him, but only if he is wearing a condom. He wants children, but is not certain that he is ready to be a father after all that has happened, so he keeps the both of you safe while secretly fantacising about what would happen if he wasn't wearing one. He cums hard when he does, needing some time to get there if he isn't feeling well mentally, but when he does it sends him into mindless bliss.

D = Dirty secret

While he would never actually do it, he has toyed with the idea of just slipping the condom off inbetween thrusts many times, it's one of the things that immediatly gets him close to the edge, though he could not break your trust like that and wouldn't even dare to try something like that.

E = Experience

While he hasn't had many intimate partners, the one's that he had have shown him exactly how to please them over time and Will is just a good student all over. You're not leaving the bed until both of you are thoroughly spent.

F = Favorite position

Cowgirl. Will loves to have you in any way that he can, but if he has the choice he's having you in his lap, his hands holding your hips and his eyes watching you as you set your own pace. If he is feeling a little more dominant he'll have you laying on a surface that's level with his hip, holding your wrists above your head with gentle pressure and making you see stars.

G = Goofy

Both are entierly possible, it depends on the day. If he's been at work, there are times where he comes home and (after asking) has his way with you without a single expression apart from his eyebrows pulling together in pleasure and his lips softly parting in a silent moan, but if the two of you have spent the day on your own he can be a bit more relaxed, chuckling with you over some nonsense that has happened and allowing you to make a few jokes if you take breaks in between.

H = Hair

In the beginning of a relationship he actually shaves, afraid that you would be uncomfortable otherwise, but if his partner has nothing against it he doesn't really do anything to his hair downstairs.

I = Intimacy

Will is worshipping you as much as he can, kissing every inch of skin that he can get his lips on and making sure you know just how much he adores you, how much he needs you in that moment. Even if he is handling you in a way that is anything but gentle, he'll have you feeling like you own his very soul. He's emotional in a way that is hard to describe, every movement carrying a sort of intensity that leaves you breathless over and over again.

J = Jack off

Less often than one would think. If he knows you are waiting for him at home, he doesn't even try. When his sex drive hits he wants you, not his hand and he actually has a fair amount of trouble cumming on his own. The only time he really does it by himself is when he knows he won't get to see you for a long time and he needs to focus badly.

K = Kink

Light impact play is always involved with Will, since he can hardly keep from holding you harshly and nipping at your skin, even while eating you out although he's careful not to hurt you, pinching the inside of your thigh if you can't manage to keep still for him.

Breeding is the sort of fantasy that he keeps to himself, but it his significant other even so much as alludes to it he's all for it. He would delight in having you walk around hours after the two of you are finished still leaking his cum, using his fingers to push it back inside as it drips down your thighs so not a drop goes to waste.

Praise is another one that is heavily involved as soon as the two of you are intimate. He craves for you to know what you are worth to him, but also enjoys watching you fall apart just from his words alone and manages to find just the right thing to say more often than not.

L = Location

In the comfort of his home, specifically in his bed. While he does think about having you in the most absurd places, he wouldn't feel safe anywhere else and the risk of exposing you to someone that isn't him doesn't sit right with Will. With the right encouragement there is a chance that he will have you anywhere you want him to though. Will is incredibly responsive, not needing much to get as desperate as a puppy begging for a treat and he's willing to do whatever you ask of him.

M = Motivation

It's the small things for Will. A smile that lingers just a moment longer than it should, the way you furrow your eyebrows while reading your favorite book and even when you push your fingers trough your hair after coming home from a walk with the dogs. It doesn't stop at your appearance though, even something as trivial as you talking about something that you're passionate about can get him hot and bothered in the matter of seconds. If you really want to get him there quickly though, feather light touches on his jaw can make him lose his mind.

N = No

Any sort of hard impact play. He has seen enough blood and strangling marks while working, he doesn't want to see them on you. He will try if you need him to, but would preferably stay away from this kind of stuff. There is a part of him that would love nothing more and maybe that is exactly why he won't do it.

O = Oral

He loves beeing on the passive end of the bargain, watching you intently as you suck him off, one of his hands making it's way into your hair although he doesn't push you down, so you can always come up to get air. There are days where all he wants is to sink into the warmth of your mouth and if you are happy to oblige he is praising you like you are a divine beeing the whole time.

What he loves even more though is giving you head. He can't imagine a more beautiful sight than your head falling back into the pillows and delights in the soft noises he can coax out of your lips with just a flick of his tounge in the right spot. He doesn't even have to try, he just knows how to push you over the edge and can't even be bothered to stop after you cum, only satiated when he knows you're absolutly satisfied. He needs some time to get to that point though, his first attempts tainted by the fact that he is scared he won't be enough for you, which is not the case. As soon as he gets that out of his head, well you are getting head.

P = Pace

Will prefers to go slow, but not necessarily gentle. He starts out with soft thrusts, but as he gets lost inside you his hips start to come into you roughly and even with brute force if he knows you can take it, though is pace stays torturously slow. He wants to savor the moment as long as he possibly can, although he has no reservations about going at a different pace if you ask him to do so.

Q = Quickie

If he had a stressful day he takes advantage of it to help him quiet his mind, but he doesn't do it often, knowing that he can get rough when he's overly frustrated and he doesn't want you to get hurt because he can't keep himself under control. Under normal circumstances he would much rather take his time with you.

R = Risk

If you ask him to try something new he will absolutly think about it and try it for you, yet he isn't too keen on doing anything that could have lasting damage. You're precious to him, he wouldn't risk breaking you as long as that is not exactly what you want.

S = Stamina

Two at most. Will doesn't need or most of the time want more than one round, he can last pretty long though, making sure he has you pleased and every single one of your needs throughly fulfilled before he himself gets his fill.

T = Toys

Doesn't own any, but isn't repulsed by the idea of using them. They do intimidate him a bit.

U = Unfair

Not while he is unwell, in those cases his mind is way to occupied with his work. If you're home and the week has gone over smooth though, his hands are always somewhere on you, fingertips tracing the lines of your back in passing or a hand placed delicately on your thigh while you're watching a movie, his hand drifting dangerously close to where you want him most but also not close enough. All of it until you eventually break and ask him to fuck you senseless.

V = Volume

Will isn't usually loud, but if you get him to let himself go, especially while giving him head, there is a good chance that he will whine at least a bit, though he does his best to keep himself from doing it.

W = Wild card

While Will is willing to do almost anything for the person he has his sights on, he is often insecure about trying new things because he is worried that he won't be able to do well enough. He needs lots and lots of reassurance, but won't ask for it because he keeps his feelings to himself. His partner needs to take the initiative to find out what makes him tick, both in at home life and in bed.

X = X-ray

A good 7.5 inches with plenty of girth, not too large, absolutly not too small.

Y = Yearning

He doesn't have time for a high sex drive and the thought doesn't occur to him often either way. If there isn't something that turns him on, he isn't thinking about it.

Z = Zzz

If you don't require him to be present with you, he falls asleep quickly, the peace after sex giving him the comfort to do so for once.

/Template by @/the-coldest-goodbye\

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #nbc community #will graham #will graham x reader #spotify #Spotify

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lnfours · 8 months ago

Note

* ✰. — make a friendship bracelet

what about “afterglow”? i’m a sucker for a good angst piece and you just always do it so well

sorry for the ton of requests i’m sending u but i can’t help it🫠 (i wish i could say this is the last one but it’s not😬)

AFTERGLOW > !!!!! also it’s okay!! you always come through with the requests <3

join the 11k celebration

you hadn’t mean to blow up on him, an overwhelming mix of emotions that sent you in a spiral that you took out right onto him. you knew he was trying to help, but the constant persistence had burst the bubble.

you had been anxious about exams all week, and he knew that. he knew how important it was that you needed to study, spend every single ounce of free time with your head buried in a textbook. you couldn’t take these exams lightly, with it being your last semester and these grades determining if you got the degree you had been working so hard for, he knew.

he had thought he was doing something nice, a boy with his best intentions at heart. he had asked if you wanted to go out for dinner with him and some of his friends, you had said no, that you needed to get your studying done before the big test day tomorrow. he had told you to take a break, and it all blew up from there.

you told him to go without you, but when it hit 7pm and you didn’t hear the jingle of his keys or the door shutting behind him, you put your highlighters down. picking up your pride with you as you shuffled out the bedroom and down the hall.

you found him in the kitchen at the stove, back to you as he read a recipe on his phone. he hummed softly, something he always did whenever he had a tune stuck in his head. and he wasn’t going to play music or be loud, his way of being respectful to you while you studied, knowing you didn’t like much noise around you.

he felt your eyes on him and he looked over his shoulder at you, “hey,”

“hi,” you bit your lip as he went back to cooking, “what’re you making?”

“alfredo,” he said, “the one you like.”

you felt your heart tighten, a soft smile on your face. he didn’t sound mad to you, maybe he wasn’t.

“didn’t go to dinner?”

“well, i wasn’t going to go without you.”

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “are you mad at me?”

he turned around fully now, placing the wooden spoon on the counter before he leaned up against it, shaking his head, “i’m not mad at you.”

you nodded again, looking down at your socks, “okay,”

“are you mad at me?” he asked.

you shook your head, picking it back up and meeting those pretty eyes in the dim lighting, “i’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“it’s okay,” he said, “i know you have a lot on your plate right now and i shouldn’t have been so persistent.”

you felt your eyes tear up, shaking your head with a soft laugh. he was too kind. even after you had just ripped him a new one for no reason at all.

you brought your palms to your eyes, fighting back the tears, “i feel like an ass. i’m so sorry, lan.”

your soft voice crack made him push off the counter, bringing your hands away from your face as he pulled you into him, “it’s okay, baby. don’t cry.”

you listened to his heart beat underneath his shirt, sniffling softly as you wrapped around him, “i don’t like fighting with you.”

“i don’t like fighting with you either,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “let me finish dinner, and if you want, we can watch a movie together.”

you nodded, a break from the textbooks in your shared bedroom sounding like heaven right now, “okay.”

“okay,”

you looked up at him, “i love you.”

“i love you, too,” he smiled, tucking hair behind your ear before pressing a soft kiss on your lips, “forever and always.”

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kiss-me-muchoo · 1 year ago

Text

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐰 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: Love in the time of pastries // part two (this one)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ after Miguel stood you up on a date, there’s bad blood. He’s crawling to have your forgiveness, you’re not taking it. Until everything turns into a secret that shocks your Spider Society’s best friends. 𝐖𝐚𝐫��𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_this is long, age gap (legal), idiots to lovers, secret relationship, angst, fluff, Miguel mandilón, mentions of sex and babies, NO proofread. 𝐀/𝐍_ afterglow and superlove from my playlist<3

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist. ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Whoever was tapping a pen against a binder, was pissing Miguel… heavily.

He was focused to keep looking at the door. You hadn’t come in yet. And you had been out for two days.

When Miguel asked Jess, she said… women stuff.

Even if Miguel denied the gang to be his friends, to his dismay… they had split up.

After the news of the failed date between you and Miguel, there were three sides.

Peter, Pavitr, and Gwen claimed Miguel had made a mistake but deserved another chance. On the other side, Jess, Lyla, and Miles were pretty sure that you were in your whole right to feel hurt and that Miguel should stay away from you.

Finally, the third side; Hobie and Margo. The two individuals were persistent in letting time amend things.

Only that time hadn’t done much in a week.

A lot of spiders are already inside the room.

Jess and Miguel are about to give new announcements and debriefings.

His eyes landed on you. He lacked a spider-sense, but he could hear his own heartbeats thumping on his ears and stomach as you arrived.

You had your suit, but a long dark blue sweatshirt covered half of your body.

Miguel wondered why you were wearing black sunglasses; maybe she was tired, or she thinks she looks bad without makeup, he thinks. Nonsense, she always looks pretty.

Margo is seated beside you, both of you chat and you smile once in a while.

You were trying your best to ignore Miguel. In a matter of a week, you had seen a side of the man you never thought you’d see.

He called your name softly, hoping to get an answer. But it wasn’t the one he desperately needed.

Just a polite reply that seized when you understood it wasn’t related to work.

So you shut his feelings out of your life, it’s for the best.

Things were slightly awkward whenever you had to be around him and your friends. Everyone noticed it. Suddenly you didn’t know how to behave, because things with your friends were okay, but with Miguel were not.

He’s just your boss, nothing else. He never was, is, and would, never be anything related to you besides being your boss.

“Is he looking?” You’d ask Margo. And through her cool mask with a bunch of eyes, she’d shake her head.

“Nah-, oh… he is now” your heart beating faster out of nowhere. The pair of black sunglasses covering your eyes would hide everything.

“Fuck…” you whisper, lowering your head.

“He’s back at talking with Jess” Margo explains. But Peter’s voice makes you forget about Miguel for two seconds.

“What? No Mayday?” you ask in panic. The baby girl was your excuse to avoid Miguel’s gaze.

“Sweet y/n, MJ and I were lucky to make her sleep so easily” She was also your only salvation to keep a sane conversation with your friends. Or else, it would always end with the different opinions everyone had about your current relationship status with Miguel.

“Damn it, Peter. You just ruined my day” you say exaggerating. The man rolls his eyes and Margo is giggling.

“C‘mon, you’ve been in a mood since the… situation with Mig-“

“DONT-… say it” You hurry to pretend to seal Peter’s lips. He shrugs.

“You should forgive him, I’m pretty sure he never meant to “

“Peter, Miguel is not innocent, but only time can heal this…” Margo explained softly. To which Peter rolls his eyes again.

“Time will only set them apart. More than they already are…”

“Yeah, but emotions are not easy and-“ you suddenly hear them, only sinking further into the chair of the room. Which is almost at full capacity now.

“Miguel likes her, y/n likes Miguel…What’s stopping them to-“

“I don’t-“Neither of you two end your sentences, because Jess is demanding silence.

You want to say you don’t like Miguel… but you do. You did since you joined the society. Only that you ignored it because of many factors. And you never thought he would ever look down at you.

But he did, and now you had him constantly begging you.

About the meeting; the go-home machine would change its location, one of the training centers would be refurbished, your bakery would need extra staff and missions would be announced through the gizmos.

Miguel looks at you one last time; you’re giggling with some spiders that get close to talking with you. Peter is there being goofy as usual, and Margo is a good individual.

He’s going towards you, but suddenly someone pulls him from the wrist.

“Don’t go…” Jess says to him.

“Why?” The woman huffs annoyed. Miguel thinks he’s losing time.

“She’s on her period. You don’t wanna mess with her in that state” he’s near the edge of blushing. Of course, he knew about periods, but sometimes he forgot that even you had it once a month.

“Cat got your tongue?” Jess asks playfully.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Maybe you will stop chasing her and let her life like a normal young adult?” Miguel sighed.

When he turned to the door, you were gone.

Of course, he had thought about that. What if he was wrong? Liking you could be dangerous because it was very likely you weren’t even meant to be with him.

And that only made his pain bigger. Just when he had accepted that Gabriella and his late wife could be happy for him.

Still, his heart used to beat ridiculously faster just at the sight of you.

…

There weren’t a lot of bakery tools in the HQ. And you didn’t know how to move around Nueva York. And of course, you wouldn’t ask Miguel to take you on a culinary shopping trip.

So you went home to take a good amount of utensils that might be useful.

The hallways are cleared, good for the pile of bowls, spoons, and spatulas in your arms.

You want to hurry, as Pavitr and Gwen were waiting for you in the Spider’s lounge cabin bakery.

At the end of the meeting, you thought it was better to get yourself busy with the bakery rather than staying home, crying about the cramps and your broken heart.

“Shoot…” you mumble once you have stumbled into someone. Some of the spoons fall all over the floor and you have to bend to get them.

Panic assaults you. The last time you left Pavitr and Gwen in charge, the bakery was full of angry spiders demanding their orders. Cash is being thrown at the teenagers and Pavitr at the verge of tears because of the pressure. You really wanted to hurry up.

“I’m sorry…” you say, only to encounter Miguel, who’s helping you to pick up the spoons.

“It’s okay…” he replies softly, giving you a warm look that you opt for ignoring.

“Listen, y/n…” you look over his broad shoulder, encountering Miles, who was eating an empanada.

“Miles!” The boy turns and you are quick enough to secure all the utensils in your arms before sprinting away from Miguel.

He saw your hands shaking as he spoke. And it only made him sigh tired as you ran away from him. Once again…

That’s when he seriously thought about something.

The canon…

“Lyla?” He asked, and seconds later, the AI appeared beside him.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to my office. And show me things”. He demanded.

“What thing?” She asked, painting her nails.

“Really?” Miguel was tired of the AI forgetting about all the canon events models.

“Oh. Right…”

…

“Show me y/n’s canon events.” Lyla nodded, all the webs and millions of connections appeared around Miguel.

He had never seen your fate. And to be honest, he was nervous.

But he stood rigid and stoic as usual. Until your red web appeared.

All the brothers you could ever have never survived. Your mother had spontaneous abortions, and the babies would be born sick.

All the friends you ever had, always left you. Misunderstandings, envy, miscommunication.

The only love you ever had, died in your arms. He meant to save you, and you needed to protect him, ending in a traumatic catharsis.

Miguel felt like he was seeing a mirror of himself. He was also meant to be alone. Nobody to pat his shoulder and say everything was going to be fine.

He had a brother who passed away.

He never had friends, always betrayed him.

He had a love, but it wasn’t real.

He had his daughter, probably his true love, but wasn’t real either.

“I told you…” Lyla said.

“What thing?”

“She’s meant to be on her own. And begging her will only break her model. Do you want that, Miguel?” His hands landed on his hips. A clear sign of him being stressed.

“When it’s gonna be my turn to be happy then?” He asked, sounding a little more angry than he intended. Lyla sighed, sad to see Miguel like that.

“Okay, calm down. We haven’t finished seeing her canon events” she said trying to spread some hope.

As your web expanded, Miguel saw more details about you; you were thirteen when you were bitten. You had fallen in love with your Peter Parker but he stayed with MJ. Then, at fifteen, your Harry Osborn came, and… it didn’t end well.

“Oh-, wow. Miguel…” Lyla called him. When he looked at the “future”, his jaw almost dropped.

The last line of your web slowly started to grow, and move around the Arachno-Humanoid-Poly-Multiverse.

He saw you would be a famous chef in your earth and Nueva York. But his heart stopped after that…

“No…” he whispered. Destiny could be cruel, but Miguel never believed it; until your web intertwined with his.

“Then-, ups. Guess she wasn’t meant to be on her own after all” Lyla said, but Miguel never replied. He stood there for around five minutes appreciating what just happened.

Suddenly Miguel feels he has a personal purpose.

He’s not sure how two people from different universes could be together. Maybe it was fate beating canon for once.

He’s able to have someone by his side again.

Knowing that it was you; it made him happy. And for the first time in a very long time, Miguel was ready to love again. He didn’t have to think twice, to think if it was correct or not.

“Do not tell y/n” he said to Lyla. The AI nodded.

“Actually, do not tell anyone” Miguel stated, walking out of his own office.

…

It’s 10:40pm and you’re slightly sweating. Your window is open and the air barely soothes the heat.

The module of literature class of the week was so close to being done. You wanted a free weekend to rot in your house while your parents worked.

With the earphones on and loud music playing, you don’t see some pair of your shoes and boxes levitating.

Only the bright portal opening in front of your dresser was enough to make you turn.

You weren’t expecting anyone; you had scheduled a sleepover with Gwen and Margo in about three weeks.

But oh surprise; it was Miguel fucking O’Hara entering your room.

“Miguel?…” Your anxiety levels went up, and you ran to throw your earphones on the bed and close the door of your room.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” You whisper-yell to him. His mask never showed any emotions, like him.

Miguel inspects your room shamelessly.

Too many books, perfumes, figures, and toys.

Unexpectedly, he found everything so interesting. Nueva York was all about the future, but here, with you… it felt homely.

“You’re lucky my parents are asleep” Since they claimed the master bedroom was too hot in summer, your parents sleep in the living room with a fan at maximum capacity.

“Oh really?” He mocks, chuckling under the mask.

You look so small and cute in a lavender shirt and pajama set. Wet hair that slowly is turning into curls and bare feet.

“Why are you here?” You ask once again, growing angry. Miguel had never ever been in your house, not even in your neighborhood.

Even if you were shocked, you hadn’t forgiven him.

“I’m not giving up. We need to talk…” After some days, you knew it would be hard to get rid of him. So if there was no turning back, you should listen. Just, maybe…

“God, you just forgot about the fucking date. It didn’t work out, just leave it” You spit as if it was a platitude.

“No. You know it’s more than that, y/n” Miguel was a man of word. And everyone knew that, so yeah… probably he wasn’t lying about liking you.

“Okay. Talk, but say it straight to my face. No mask…” he liked your words.

The mask disappeared, and as always, you weren’t ready to encounter his face.

The first seconds pass with you and him staring at each other.

Hopefully, you two would solve your problems just by looking. It wasn’t the case though…

“Can you hear my heartbeat?” He asks lowly. You are staring at his chest, probably his ribs. Because if you look straight, that’s what you see.

Until you raise your head again, to tremble because of his eyes.

You can hear his heartbeat, almost see the dopamine.

“Are you nervous?” You answer with another question. He smirks, face coming closer to you.

“No. I’m-…falling in love” your eyes shut closed. Your mind, is blank, even when your heart screams the reason you already know.

You’re falling in love too.

“No…Miguel-, you can’t because-“

“Chiquita, cállate. Por favor…” he moves, looking at your room once again.

The more he looked at your belongings, the more he was fascinated by you.

“Can I?…” you nod as he asked permission to seat on the edge of your bed. But soon your exaggeration invaded.

“WAIT!. Just-… Not with the suit on” he chuckled, noticing you were embarrassed to ask him to take off his suit.

He nods, giving a barely visible smile.

“I’ll turn around” you state, looking at your own image in the mirror.

By accident, you looked to the north, encountering Miguel’s back.

His suit was disintegrating; he was naked.

OH GOD-…

You could see his strong back. His light cinnamon skin and perfect muscles.

But as your eyes traveled across his back, your eyes landed on his ass; also naked.

Soon you remembered, he was naked. And all of the situation was happening just in seconds. Your only getaway was closing your eyes.

“You can turn now…” now in normal clothes, he had a hoodie and sweatpants. Making him look beyond desirable. And you hate yourself for thinking that way just after seeing his back… naked.

“What you’re feeling is not foreign to me, y/n,” he said, finally seating on your bed. He looks massive, yet soft. His hands holding the edge of your mattress, and he seems to be inspecting your notes displayed on the bed.

“Loving someone can be dangerous. Especially when you know you’re meant to be alone” The fact that he accepted canon wanted him alone made you feel sorry for him. But it also caused a sting in your heart, since were meant to live the same way.

“Because as much as we try to live the life we desire, we only cause chaos”

“Stop-“ you warn him. Scared to reach the subject of your Harry.

“I’m in your canon events.” In the beginning, you don’t believe him. But quickly, he’s pressing some things on his gizmo.

A quick glance at your canon events; your unborn siblings, friends betraying you, becoming Spider woman, losing Harry, having depression and surviving it, getting injured because of the Spot, and being together with Miguel. In a romantic way…

The man regrets showing you everything so suddenly because he watches you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Since when did you know about this?” You asked coming closer to him. He can see for the first time the tons of moles covering you, your lashes, and clean eyebrows. God, she’s so pretty.

“Yesterday. Lyla showed me” You nod, sighing.

He’s taken aback when you come to stand between his tights, hands grabbing his shoulders and getting painfully close to his face.

“Miguel. Every time I’ve fallen in love, it never ends well, cause-“

“Can you tell the same about me?” The trauma of losing his family was more than enough to understand him. But you’re still very scared, of losing him this time.

“I’m not gonna be able to handle a second time being stood up”

“We’re not talking about the theater anymore. Are we?” You smile, shaking your head.

“I don’t want to lose you too, Miguel”

“But you won’t. I’ll always come back… for you” Nobody would ever believe what was happening. Miles, Jess, and Lyla would be disappointed with what you were about to do.

“What about our dates? Is it going to be a thing of you to never show up?” He sighed in relief, smiling proudly.

“It was an emergency. I had to “

“Save the universe. Yeah, I know.” You interrupt him with another smile.

Again. You are just staring at each other like idiots. You don’t even remember he’s in your house. You’re in pajamas and it's the end of the summer.

“So you’re one of my canon events” he nods, confirming the news to you.

“Are we good? Are you ready for this?” His question makes you blush.

“Maybe? Yeah… I think so” Now you are free to caress his wide shoulders. He closes his eyes because it relaxed him.

“I’m sorry for the date, chiquita” You nod.

“With the news, the date is so long in the past”

“I’ll make it up to you. Now, it’s a promise” he can’t lie again. Not when canon is blessing your possible relationship with him.

You look at his lips, and the desire for him comes again.

“I’m gonna kiss you now…” you say, leaning closer. He’s eager for whatever you’re about to give him. Cause he was pleased just by you looking at him.

“Kiss me…” he accepts.

So you do it. Slowly, you melt your lips with his in a sweet kiss. His lips are soft, and his hands grasp your hips, moving you closer to him.

Probably two minutes into kissing, you start giggling.

“What?” Miguel asks on your lips.

“We can’t tell the others. Not yet…”

“I’d like to be your secret boyfriend,” he says.

“Boyfriend?” Your arched brow makes him blush.

“Well…”

“My soon-to-be boyfriend” you correct him, brushing his hair, and noticing how soft it is.

For the first time, Miguel is not afraid of showing emotions. He isn’t afraid of love anymore.

…

It’s funny, sweet, and goofy how you have to hide your new relationship with Miguel.

“Why were helping Miguel so late now?” Jess asks suspiciously.

Now, you stayed with Miguel doing everything and nothing. Mainly talking while organizing anomalies that needed to be sent home.

“I’m a coding girl. I’m being useful” You know Jess doesn’t believe you.

“I thought you were avoiding him”

“It’s been a month since that, Jess. I’m a mature woman” she giggles.

“In that case, that doesn’t explain why he was at your house the other night”

“What?”

“Gwen. You were having a sleepover and Miguel appeared out of nowhere” You roll your eyes.

“I forgot my mask, dear”

“Girl, if you’re lying to me-“

Miguel calls from your gizmo. You smile happily.

“I need help over here” he’s fighting a Mysterio on Penni’s universe. You know a date after the fight was granted.

“Duty calls…” you say to Jess.

As soon as you turn left, your gizmo is on again, calling Miguel.

“Do you still need help?”

“Not really, bonita. But what about a quick shower and we head to dinner?” You smile again.

“Sounds interesting”

“Te amo mucho, chiquita”

“Yo más, corazón” you reply feeling all the love in your chest.

Certainly, you were living a fever dream. Miguel O’Hara was your boyfriend.

“No. Yo más…”

“No-“

“Okay, enough. You, humans, get so obsessed with loving and all of that…” Lyla says appearing in your left shoulder.

“Are the hallways clear?” You ask her.

“Yep. Clear and free”

You open a portal, and since nobody can see, you head to Miguel’s place in Nueva York.

Jess saw Lyla talking to you. And she’s not convinced. And she knows who should receive an intervention.

…

Lyla was painting her nails when she was attacked by the most annoying gang; Hobie, Gwen, Peter, Miles, Mayday, and even Jess by their side.

“We deserve an explanation,” Peter says.

“Woah. What are you talking about? The AI asks.

“Miguel and y/n. Are they together?” Gwen asks now.

Lyla sighs, the little desk beside her disappearing as she descended to the gang.

“Miguel was very clear to keep his private life… private”

“So are they together or not?” Hobie asks, crossing his arms. As usual, the icebreaker was straight to the point.

“As Miguel’s second hand I-“

Someone called; Miguel of course.

“Lyla, archive today's reports and turn off the machine in my lab, please,” he says before shutting down the communication.

“Wow, he said please” Lyla points out.

“Look, location says… Tacos varios?” Miles asks with terrible Spanish pronunciation.

“It’s here in Nueva York,” Peter says excitedly, making Mayday giggle and shooting webs to nowhere.

“Let’s go!” Gwen says confidently.

Lyla only rolls his eyes.

“Crap…” she says.

“I knew you were aware of this” Jess points at the AI.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Lyla replies pretending to be cleaning her heart-shaped glasses.

…

Miguel knows you’re not listening to him. You are distracted by the smell of tacos.

“Did you hear anything I said, hermosa?”

“Hmm?” You ask looking at another couple eating an order of tacos al pastor. The pineapple slices look so juicy, and the beef looked so fresh. Your mouth was watering.

“I said if you wanted an agua fresca”

“Oh yeah. Horchata, please. We can share if you want to” he nods, standing up.

The place was humble and comfortable, even with the line of people waiting outside.

Even with the group of spiders in disguise looking from another table. Yeah, they followed you and Miguel.

“This food is so good,” peter said with his mouth full.

“Peter, don’t talk with your mouth full” the man shrugs as he looks at his baby in Jess’s arms.

“They look… friendly,” Miles says.

“Friendly, huh?” Hobie hints at something else. No one notices.

Miguel comes back with two plates; your tacos a vapor and his mulitas. A big cup of agua de horchata too, which looks small in his hand even when the cup was the biggest in the restaurant.

“Do you like onions?” your boyfriend asked you.

“I do. But I’d rather not eat today, or else… no kisses for you” Miguel rolls his eyes, chuckling.

Everything was fine. You were amazing and he felt happy again.

“Fair enough…”

“Oh, hey…uhm-. My parents are going out for the weekend. Do you wanna stay with me?” You were nervous about the question. Since the relationship was new, you didn’t want to push anything.

“I could stay with you…” neither of you was suggesting sex because neither of you needed to know you were in love with each other.

“Great. We can make dinner, bake something together, and watch movies. I can show you my books while we do skincare” Again, he rolled his eyes.

But he could only think one thing; I love my silly girlfriend.

“I don’t do skincare,” he said eating his mulita.

“Don’t worry, I don’t make it annoying…” you don’t want to finish your food because you’ll likely get another order and you didn’t want to get bloated. Not during an amazing date.

“I trust you, bonita” you giggled.

The spider group was getting impatient, all you did with Miguel was talking and laughing. Jess pointed out that Miguel never shared his food, but now, he was sharing his beverage with you.

“That’s weird,” she said, but nobody was listening since Peter ordered another order of tacos de canasta. Jess only rolled her eyes and started seeing what else happened.

“Oh look, they’re going out” Hobie was so fixated on his taco that he didn’t even hear what Gwen said.

You dumped the trash and Miguel waited for you at the entrance to get out.

You took his hand and it felt so right. His fingers responded and intertwined with yours.

“What now?” He asked.

“Dunno, Is there space for something sweet on your stomach?” Miguel smirked. Of course, you would want something sweet.

“There’s a bakery at the end of the avenue” Smiling, you nodded to him.

Unbeknownst to you and your boyfriend, you’re being followed by the nosy spider gang.

“I’m going home… I bet they’re dating and… at the end, I’m happy for them” Jess said.

“Are you leaving? Really?” Peter accused her.

“I miss my baby and man. Bye…” and with that, she opened a portal and left.

The bakery Miguel mentioned was at full capacity. A little line to get inside and the order was visible.

“Get in the line. I’ll get something for you” you nod confused. Miguel leaves and it’s impossible to lose him as his broad and tall figures move across the crowd of Nueva York.

You have an eye on the piles of cannolis and cheesecakes. Miguel paid for the food, which you would spend on dessert.

You remember your debit card doesn’t exist in Nueva York, but you had some cash valid on earth- 929.

Without seeing him, you know Miguel is back with you. He kissed your head before wrapping his arms around you, and a little bouquet of poppies in front of your appeared.

“Miguel!” He chuckles, kissing your head once again.

“I wanted to give you flowers since the first time”

“These are beautiful. Thanks, mi amor” You turn to grab the bouquet and kiss him deeply. Miguel found himself surprised to see how fast he had changed.

He deepens the kiss, some people in the line might send judgmental looks at him and you. But he doesn’t care.

He’s lost on your lips, concentrated on making you feel loved and happy.

Until he listened a well-known voice.

“Thank god you two are here” Miguel and you stop kissing only to meet Lyla.

“Lyla? What are you doing here” you ask looking at the little AI. Miguel must be feeling so angry. He was always very clear to not be bothered on his free day, except in case of a real big emergency.

“Why are you here? I’ve been strictly clear about-“

“I’m sorry. I accidentally showed your location when you called and the kids heard and-“

“I KNEW IT!” You’re not understanding anything. Miguel huff annoyed and rolls his eyes at the sight of his least favorite coworkers.

“All of you! Ugh-…” your boyfriend starts, pointing at Lyla, Hobie, Peter, Mayday, Gwen, and Miles.

“Me tienen hasta la madre. What are you doing here?” Suddenly there’s only one person left after you to buy a treat. You are so confused and Miguel already is thinking of ways to apologize for another half-failed date.

“You’re dating, right?” Gwen asks covering her mouth and smiling along with Miles.

“You two have to be dating. The hands holding, sharing drinks, and that kiss. Wow, you looked so adorable holding her cheek” You’re blushing, Miguel is at the edge of being flustered.

“Peter. Shut up…” Lyla warns Peter.

“Yeah. We’re dating…We just wanted to keep it private… for a little” You can’t help to laugh when everyone starts cheering.

“But…How? After the theater thing we thought-“

“Miguel is in my canon events,” you say before entering the shop and leaving everyone in shock.

Your boyfriend only stares there, awkwardly.

“Tell Jess, I can’t believe this!” Peter yelled at Lyla, who was very nervous wondering how was Miguel.

The 6’9 foot tall man wanted to activate his suit, grab you by the waist and get you out of his earth and take you to your beautiful house.

You are paying for a little box of sweets, and he can’t wait for you to get out.

“This is amazing. I’m so happy for you” Peter pressures Miguel, smiling and caressing his shoulder.

“You two already have plans or what?…” Hobie asks for the first time.

Miguel sends him a bad look, and thankfully, you’re out. Standing beside Miguel to hug his arm.

“We’re going slow, guys. But yeah, canon indicates it’s safe for us to be together” Your touch is what is keeping him from yelling at some teenagers and an adult once again.

“Oh yeah, canon indicates that… in about 18 months, a baby could pop in from these two” Lyla spills like nothing.

“WHAT?” you basically scream in the middle of the street.

Miguel’s eyes only widened before he exchanged flustered looks with you.

A baby? In a year and a half? No way.

“Oh-, ups. I didn’t show you that part” the AI said to Miguel.

He looked Lyla like wanted to kill her. Which made the little AI disappear immediately.

A long conversation with would happen eventually.

“Well, congratulations,” Miles says giving you a hug. You accept it, but you’re still in shock.

“Mystery solved. Can we go home now?” Hobie asks sarcastically.

Miguel agrees with Hobie for the first time.

After some awkward goodbyes, you are alone with Miguel again.

“That was weird but funny. Don’t be too harsh on them on Monday, please” he sighs, following back to his place.

“They can’t simply invade our privacy and walk out like nothing, y/n”

“Well yeah, but… They are our friends and they mean well”

“Correction. They are your friends” he says opening the door of his building for you. Is a futuristic apartment complex. And Miguel owns the biggest of course.

“Deny it as much as you want, but they are our friends” Miguel shrugs.

You already have a lot of things in his place. Your parents didn’t know yet. They would likely disapprove but easily get used to it. Especially since Miguel is the best boyfriend.

And in a month, he had convinced you to love so hard again.

“Chiquita, I want this weekend to be just about us. Can we?” You nod, taking your slippers and going straight to wash your hands. He watches you put the flowers in a cup, it makes him feel like he’s achieving domesticity with you. Miguel gets some forks and plates for the pastries you bought. And soon, you are snuggling on the couch with the pastries and glasses of white wine.

“What do you think about Lyla and what she said?” You were dying to know. But too scared to actually find out.

“She’s not lying. And… if that’s our future, I’ll be happy” There’s a lot to know about each other, but you like how everything was developing.

“All those fears of being alone or losing you are over. I have you and whatever it is, it’s gonna be fine”

“Ay, Miguel. Te amo tanto, corazón” he smiles, leaning to leave his plate on the little table of the living room.

“Yo mas, mi vida” Whoever you two were in the past was gone.

These new versions were eager to be lovers.

_____________________________________________

+Next fics are_ reputation (Miguel’s version) fic and the long time waited hurt me it’s okay part two

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse

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