#i was planning on cutting my hair short but she said she liked how long its gotten

[itsza]

today was a good day.

[honestsycrets]

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it. 

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free. 

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.” 

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--” 

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--” 

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.” 

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face. 

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets. 

“She likes it.” 

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.” 

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar. 

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.” 

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.” 

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,” 

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face. 

“As many as will make you happy.” 

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.” 

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?” 

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for. 

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father. 

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.” 

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."  

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable. 

 Low sperm count his ass. 

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it. 

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.” 

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.” 

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel. 

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them. 

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.” 

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly. 

“Sí, Miggy?” 

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so. 

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that. 

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place. 

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder. 

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.  

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck. 

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone. 

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day. 

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is. 

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready. 

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall. 

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.” 

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.” 

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.” 

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck. 

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.” 

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest. 

“Who would come in?” 

“Peter,” you answer. 

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see. 

“The balcony, then.” 

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?” 

“Maybe.” 

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter. 

“Bend over.” 

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now. 

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.” 

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”  

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth. 

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?” 

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again. 

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back. 

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability. 

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable. 

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach. 

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body. 

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs. 

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days.  “Like… not this.” 

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” 

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.” 

“Don’t start.” 

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging. 

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--” 

“Let me guess. She told you.” 

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?” 

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”  

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe. 

“Are you sure? I know--” 

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.” 

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?” 

He leers. Peter scuttles away. 

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

[amaranthineghost]

Hiiiii!!!

Can you write smth where lando and his gf try this chocolate which makes you horny and see how long they can go without touching each other

| HIS HANDS TOUCH ME LIKE MY SKIN IS STICKY, HE'S GLUED TO ME ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: lando and his girlfriend try special chocolate and make it a competition to see who will lose first, and he's struggling to resist the urge to touch her.

ꕥ authors note: sorry this took so long to write, I was super busy and I don't know why this took me so long to make it half decent to read. i also wrote part of this with my new apple pencil! So that was super cool, but also weirdly difficult since my hand writing is slightly tragic.

ꕥ warnings: smut

FUCK, IT WAS HARD. he couldn't take it. he couldn't take the girl that sat across from him on the couch, lying perfectly on her stomach as if she didn't need him as bad as he needed her. after all, it was her plan, her bet, yet he'd been the one suffering.

clearly he had massively underestimated her, something he didn't do often. but he didn't expect her to be this nonchalant after eating the special chocolates she'd presented to him. he didn't expect her to have seemingly no reaction, or at least act like she didn't.

because he was going insane. he didn't expect the simple chocolate square she fed him to have such an effect on him, feeling the material of his pajama pants becoming tighter with every passing minute, and she appeared fine.

it hadn't even been 15 minutes since she challenged him to the bet and he was already a mess. she hadn't even done anything either, all she did was lie on the couch with her phone in her hands.

he wasn't sure how long he'd last. surely it couldn't be much longer with the thoughts of filth in his head, desperate to give him something to elevate his chances of outlasting her. it was unlikely, the dirty thoughts all consisted of her, and it aided him in no way, only hindering his ability to resist her.

fuck, he didn't expect it to be this agonizing, her skin was simply taunting him as she wore short shorts and a shirt she'd cut the collar off of, exposing the skin of her collarbone. her hair draped down her back, begging to be tangled in his veined hands as he forced himself down her throat, fuck. all he needed was her pretty, pink lips wrapped around the problem she caused when she first presented him with the special sweets.

his hips rolled against the couch at a desperate attempt to get comfortable with the aching bulge in his pants that he needed to be resolved so badly by her. a groan almost escaping past his throat at the friction of his pants. he hoped she didn't notice.

she did. she'd noticed because her vision was hyperfocused on his movement in her peripheral, watching every twitch in his body and every bounce in his leg. she felt the lingering eyes on her body, she knew he needed her, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't need him as much as he did, if not more.

the heat was uncomfortable between her thighs as she tried to ignore the effects of the sweets they'd eaten earlier as a challenge. because how else should they spend their time together other than trying to resist each other’s touch? she had tried to remain stoic as she saw the desperacy that’d become in his pants, a problem she knew only she could solve without leaving him aching for more.

he couldn’t satisfy himself with his own right hand, it wouldn’t be enough. he knew that and so did she—it was dangerous information she’d so quickly learnt after only a few nights in bed.

so seeming as he’d be unable to satisfy his troubles, it had made the challenge all the more agonizing. though it hadn’t been against the rules to take care of themselves, he wouldn’t. they only had one rule: don’t touch each other. so simple yet so torturous for the young driver when his girlfriend was this tempting.

he ached to feel her around him, in any way at this point because he so badly wanted to see her on her knees in front of him, turning red from the carpet underneath her, wanting to wrap her hair in his hands.

he didn't know what to do other than to sit and suffer as he tried to get some sort of stimulation to hold him until she caved. He hoped she would because he didn't know how much longer he could last before he'd ruin her. the image in his mind as he'd picture the scenario of her beneath him. But it wouldn't be long.

she stood up, so abruptly he nearly lost his breath. she finally caved, he thought in utter relief. he almost sighed, he was so relieved she'd been the one to lose. but she hadn't when she walked right past where he sat on the couch. he nearly lost his mind, he was so desperate and she passed right by him like she didn't even care.

she returned  with a bottled water in hand, completely undisturbed by the very disturbed lando she would almost walk by, almost. He reached out with his hands, digging into her sides when she reappeared, she yelped, caught off-guard with his hasty actions. he'd pull her into his lap, the water bottle falling to the carpet as her back pressed into his chest.

he groaned lowly into her ear when her ass pushed against his bulge, grasping the flesh of her waist so tightly, he watched  the skin turn red under his fingertips, and fuck did it turn him on even more. if that was possible. the friction caused by the clothes acting as a barrier caused his hips to buck against her.

he needed her, in any way he could get, he wanted to be selfish. so when he muttered in a raspy voice, "on your knees, pretty girl," she obliged, seeing as she wanted to please him in any way she could, especially since she hadn't been the one to lose.

she slipped from his lap, the skin of her knees digging into the rug. she watched him fumble with the waistband of his pants, he was desperate and she had all the power over him in the moment. she knew he was at her will.

she reached up to where he struggled with pulling the elastic down, wrapping her finger over the hem and pulling down his pajama pants and boxers painfully slow. she savored the moment, he wanted her to end his prolonged suffering.

past his thighs, down to his knees, and eventually piling at his ankles. he was hard, precum seeping down his shaft to show he'd been waiting too long. he sucked in a breath at the contact with the cold apartment air.

she ran her hands up his thighs, watching the goosebumps follow her cold hands. she controlled his pleasure. all while keeping eye contact, filled with lust and tension. when her hands reached his cock, she teased him by running a single finger down his hard length inciting a curse from his mouth and the movement in his hips. her other arm came to rest against the skin above his knee, the bone of her elbow pressing into the muscle.

she didn't tease him for long because what comes around, goes around. she didn't need him torturing her in the near future so she spit into the palm of her hand, though she thought it was most likely unnecessary for her to do. wrapping her hand around him caused the groan in his throat to escape past his lips.

he was a mess in her hands, strings of moans escaping his mouth with every slow stroke of his cock. he begged for her to pick up the pace, give him more.

so she figured she would, moving her hand ever so slightly faster, running her thumb across his tip before she leaned her head close to his cock, giving him kitten licks that left saliva down his shaft. she felt the moment his hand finally found her hair, tangling his fingers as he closed his hand in a fist.

she changed  from small grazes with her tongue to kissing back up to his tip. she slowly swirled  her tongue around the head of his cock. it caused lando to throw his head back, his neck on full display with his adam's apple bobbing with every noise of pleasure.

with his hand in her hair, he pushed  her down further on his cock so now her mouth was full of him. she squeaked against him, and he groaned loudly at the vibrations through his hard length, "fuck-"

he let out curse after curse as she sucked him off, hollowing her cheeks around his shaft which incited him to pull her further down by her hair, her nose nearly meeting the skin above the base of his cock. he could feel the struggle in her throat, praising her accordingly, "fuck-you take me so well, pretty girl." he'd hold himself down her throat only momentarily, he didn't want to hurt her too much.

when she pulled back, she panted heavily as the only thing that connected them was the trail of saliva from bottom lip to his tip. her face was reddened and flushed, a result of the move he just pulled. he removed the hand lost in her hair, moving to caress the side of her head instead.

he patted  his thigh for her to return to the original position they found themselves in. she was confused though, he didn't cum so why was he telling her to sit back on his lap? she’d find out.

she’d find out when she stood before him, seeing he still wore his shirt but the bottom had ridden up his abs. her stomach flipped at the sight of his happy trail that led to his erection. she stood still because she didn't know what else to do.

he reached behind her and pulled her by the backs of her thighs onto his bare lap. he cursed when her clothed heat grinded against his cock, his hands grasping her waist as he rolled her hips against him, hearing the small moans that left her lips. he smirked at how easily he could rile her up without doing much.

he sighed when she ran her frigid hands up his abs and under his shirt to his chest. she trailed them back down to the hem before peeling the material from his body while his hands remained firm on her hips. only for a second did he lift his hands to remove his shirt. the only thing that remained was his silver chain.

when his hands returned to her sides, his fingers disappeared under her top, feeling the hidden skin before he slowly pulled it from her body. he swore he felt himself get harder at the sight of her exposed chest, already finding himself fondling her flesh.

but he soon remembered  how desperate he was. he didn't have the patience to take her shorts off, watching her face as he pushed aside the cloth, hearing her hiss at the coolness though quickly replaced when he ran a couple of fingers across her cunt. she nearly threw her head back, just as he had done.

they didn't have time to mess around though as their already decently high sex drive had increased ten fold, hormones running at an all time high. so he wanted to waste no time, hastily dragging his fingers covered in her slick down his tongue. when he lined up his cock to her heat, pushing her down on him. a raspy moan escaped past his lips as he watched himself disappear past her folds. fuck, it was exhilarating feeling her walls around him, it always was.

as badly as he wanted it, he'd let her do the work. initially, she had just rolled her hips to create the friction they both craved from each other. but her movements were practically effortless, not costing her a heavy breath, it just simply wasn't enough.

despite the moans he'd let out, he needed more. he halted her movements, feeling her clench around him at the sudden lack of pleasure. instead he guided her up and down on his cock, lifting her so slowly then slamming her back down until he completely filled her, groaning lowly at the scream he'd caused to leave her lips. their skin lewdly slapped together as he'd continue the movements for her, eventually sitting back to watch as she bounced on his cock.

"you’re so pretty on my cock, darlin' " he'd praised, "such a good slut for me."

fuck, was it a glorious sight that'd been for his eyes only, watching her use his cock to pleasure herself. that’s what he liked to think because it got him off to see her enjoying herself, by any means. constant moans and occasional curses followed by his name, he could've come undone right as his name left her lips.

he noticed the staggered pace, how heavily her bare chest rose and fell, how she struggled to keep the momentum he'd set for her. by pushing her back, she pressed against him, face buried in his neck as her moans breathed across her skin. he’d wrap both arms around the small of her back to steady her, jutting his hips sharply upwards, followed quickly by her screams of pleasure as he plowed into her until she came hard on his cock, his thrust slowing to a halt.

they laid still for a while, his cock still stuffed inside of her as she stayed on him. the sweat on their skin mixing and the only sound that could be heard was the recovery of their breaths. peeling her body from his, he stood and didn't reach far to grab the previously disregarded water bottle, pushing it into her hand.

he disappeared, though not for long as he came back  with a damp rag and clean clothes for both of them. he gently parted her legs, first cleaning her inner thighs before ever so slightly across her sensitive clit, causing her to cry out softly.

“shhh,” he shushed her as he continued more gently this time.

“this was your doin’, love."

—

proofread by @vroomvroomverstappen <3

[morning-star-joy]

Do you ever plan on writing maybe a little pregnancy one shot for our ASHWAH babies? 🥺🫶🏽

So I did actually write a little something playing with the idea last year, but it got buried in my docs and I forgot about it until now! Not an actual pregnancy, but just a short drabble of Joel thinking about it. Here it is!

give you my wild, give you a child

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: Joel imagines another kind of life.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI Mentions of previous smut. Joel is a breeding kink legend. Thoughts of pregnancy and body changes through pregnancy. Pregnancy kink.

Wordcount: 1k

A/N: Just a gentle reminder that ASHWAH pregnancy is not canon! It's just an AU exploration, and you do not have to consider it their ending if you don't want it to be. Any direct sequel won't have it <3

Important: Please read this post before engaging with any of my fics. How you can help Palestine.

Joel was trying hard not to think about it.

He had been trying so very hard not to think about it for months now.

But she was making that an extremely difficult task.

Especially with the way she was holding Hope right now, balancing Tommy’s one-year-old daughter on her knees, gently bouncing her up and down with a bright smile at the baby’s giggles that filled the air.

It was one of the many times the two had taken up babysitting their goddaughter, while Tommy and Maria got some much needed rest. But each time Hope was in their house—because that’s what it was now, their house, as she had hardly left it since that night in front of the fireplace when they had finally given into each other—Joel felt an ache in his chest.

That ache slowly grew into an unfamiliar longing, one that only deepened whenever the baby was balanced on her hip as she talked to the child, or rocked her to sleep in her arms.

Joel wasn’t an idiot. He knew how impractical it was, even with how happy they all were to have Hope in their lives.

He knew it wasn’t even something that she really wanted, or at least not the last time they had actually talked about it.

God, no, had been the words she sputtered when he had off-handedly asked her about it in Hope’s nursery a year before, long before they had fallen for each other as fully, as completely as they did.

But he knew how much their goddaughter meant to her, how much her natural instinct of a protector kicked in around the baby, much like his own.

And then there was that one night, when she had worn that lace that he still dreamed about, a memory that possessed his mind whenever they were apart. The way it laid against her skin, sticking to her cunt with her own release when she rode his thigh with a desperation that only became needier when he slipped his cock inside her, and words he’d never forget fell from her lips.

You’d like to put your baby in me, hm?

He’d nearly lost his goddamn mind when she said it, fucking into her with abandon, filthy words he’d never even dreamed of uttering to her streaming from his lips.

And she fucking loved it, begged for it, that pussy that he worshipped squeezing his cock tighter than he’d ever felt as she came from the promises he made of filling her up until it took.

So maybe…

No, Joel thought firmly, trying to cut off that line of thought before his mind could wander down it again, like it had every time they’d taken care of his brother’s child the past few months. He had to stop his brain from concocting an image that was far too sweet, too innocent and idealistic to ever be true.

But as she lifted Hope into the air, grinning up at the baby with a softness on her face he never saw with anybody else—he wondered.

He wondered how she would look with another child in her arms, a precious life made up of both of theirs. Maybe one with his strong nose, and her sharp eyes. Or his stern brow, and her striking hair.

Her hair that he so loved to admire night after night, along with every inch of her, his hands gently running over the body that had become a home to him, while she drifted off to sleep under his familiar touch.

As his fingers skimmed across her chest and down to her stomach some nights, Joel imagined if by some bizarre twist of fate, after one of their heated moments of passion where they got carried away in him filling her up, that it did take.

He pictured the swell of her breasts as she lay naked in their bed; soft, tantalizing flesh that would only grow fuller. The same way her whole body would slowly change, her stomach rounder because of him, as she—

“Joel?”

Blinking rapidly, he was pulled sharply from his silly daydreams, shaking his head to bring himself back to the present and focus on the love of his life as she stood in front of him.

Her eyebrow was arched as she looked over him with a question in those piercing eyes. Hope was balanced on her hip, the baby’s fingers gripping onto her hair, and Joel’s breath caught in his throat. He keenly felt that ache of longing again as she gently removed the small, chubby fingers from her hair and held out the baby to him.

“Can you hold her for a bit?” she asked, and Joel accepted Hope into his arms without question, even though in the back of his mind he kept picturing how it would feel to pass that child from his imagination, the one with some unique mix of their features, between them. “Gotta pee.”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh, mumbling an affirmative, “No problem.”

Still, she watched him for a moment longer, glancing over his face before leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Your mind’s a mile away today,” she mumbled, pulling back to move away, but not before Joel could wrap his free arm around her waist. He brought her back in for a proper kiss, no matter how quick the peck on the lips was so she could run to the bathroom.

“My bad,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze to look down at Hope, even as he felt the familiar intensity of being analyzed by his woman before she moved away.

“Let me see inside your head later,” she called over her shoulder, her voice only half-teasing as she moved towards the bathroom. “I wanna see what has my man so far from planet earth.”

Joel stiffened, holding his breath until he heard the bathroom door close, and only then did he exhale sharply, lifting one hand from where he had brought Hope securely against his chest to rub his thumb and forefinger across his eyes.

Fuck.

[lxkeee]

END GAME

PART TWO

pairing: lucifer x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

warnings: no warnings yet.

notes: very feral for this man and this is multishot fic and would be writing a smut for this. Reader is close to his age (probably a hundred years younger but meh)

additional notes: just because there are moments where Lucifer seems to be flustered or like mesmerized by the reader, it doesn't mean he already has a crush. It just means that he's been alone for so long that anyone who's gorgeous would make him get flustered cuz it's been awhile since he socialized with others lmfao. I am planning to make their relationship slowly bloom cuz why not?

PART ONE | PART THREE

“The name's Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to hell.” the light blond haired man said with slight smile and [y/n] can feel her jaw dropped. This is the first fallen angel? The king of hell? Very pale skin, short stature, pink cheeks, attractive. [Y/n] believes that the stories from ancient heavenly scrolls didn't do him any justice.

Lucifer just gave her a small toothy grin as he watched the awe look on her face as he leans his body against the door frame, crossing his arms as he looked at her. “You're Lucifer...?” she asked softly, looking at him with slight doubt and he nodded, “Indeed I am darling.” he replied with a grin, almost a smirk.

“You're much shorter than I thought you would be.” [y/n] says looking at him and Lucifer felt like an arrow was shot into his heart, if she stood next to him it would be guaranteed that she'll be looking down on him literally, “Though, I do believe that the heavenly scrolls did not do you any justice. You are prettier than how the scrolls describe you to be.” she says with a grin, crossing her arms on her chest as Lucifer just looked at her, blinking slowly as the red of his cheeks darkened slightly.

I swear to me, why is she so bold? He asked himself mentally.

He cleared his throat before eventually looking back at her, “Are you normally this bold to strangers?” he asked with a deadpan and [y/n] snorted a little, “Usually, I'm more.” she replied and Lucifer had to take a deep breather as he mumbled “Jesus...” underneath his breath making the woman chuckle.

[y/n] haven't paid him any mind, chuckling slightly to see the ruler of hell to be easily flustered. “I assumed you healed me? How long was I out?” she asked him, deciding to stop teasing the poor man. Lucifer managed to calm himself down, adjusting the collar to his suit, “Yes, you have crashed into my front yard but don't mind about it. You've been in a coma for almost... Three weeks.” he replied before eventually walking towards her and sat on the bed. His expression softened as his hand grazed over her shoulder blades, “They really cut off your wings...” he muttered softly and she just sighed, “Indeed they did.”

Deciding not to make her uncomfortable, he removed his hand from her shoulders, “If you don't mind me asking, what happened?” he asked and she gently lied down on to the bed, avoiding his gaze.

“Heaven was suffocating. Too many rules and I began to question them.” she replied softly and Lucifer just nodded in understanding, “I would probably have been bearable if I was allowed to punch Adam occasionally but nope.” she jokes slightly, making the light blond haired fallen angel chuckle, “Indeed.” he says softly making the woman giggle. Lucifer then gave her a raised eyebrow, “I think now's the time I catch the name of the person I took care of for almost three weeks. Hmm?” he asked with a slight hum. [Y/n] smiled before returning back to her sitting position, extending her hand for a handshake, “My name is [Y/n] [l/n], it is a pleasure to meet you.” she says and Lucifer smiled and held her hand and gave her knuckle a chaste kiss, “The pleasure is all mine.”

[y/n] just chuckles as he lets go of her hand, “As expected, you really are charming.” she says making Lucifer laugh slightly, “Thank you, now.” he says before clapping his hands together, “Since you are new here, I assume that you don't have anywhere to stay. How about you work for me? You are a fallen angel so I know you are powerful. So what do you say?” he asked, extending his hand with a slight smirk. [Y/n] looked at his hand with a raised eyebrow and with a small teasing smile.

“A deal with the devil...? What's the catch?” she asked, crossing her arms making Lucifer chuckle, “This isn't the usual deal where you sell your soul to me, that kind of deal requires a contract with your signature of consent. This is just a normal deal for you to work and be my assistant while getting a place to stay in return.” he explained, despite the smirk on his face, [y/n] cannot sense deception from the man. She sighs before eventually shaking his hand.

“You got yourself a deal, Lucifer.” she says making the king of hell smirk, “You won't regret it.”

end notes: and I worked like a doggg day and night 😭

[upsidedownwithsteve]

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. 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Reverse-verse.

Content warning at the end for suicidal ideation. Nothing graphic.

Jason leaned against the wall where Babs was typing training notes and jerked his head to where you were talking to Bruce. Evidence notes in hand. "So the Emo doesn't have to train why?"

"Physiology," she answered, not looking up. "When they messed with the structures in her brain they messed with well... everything." "Which translates to no cardio how?" he scoffed, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"If she trained like the rest of you she'd have to eat like a Speedster and take enough vitamins to fuck her organs," she said. "If that's not clear enough- They made her pretty powerful sure but also pretty fragile."

"So much for a super soldier-"

"She's slightly stronger and slightly faster than a normal person but only in short bursts. And she lives in constant hell. So. You know. I don't begrudge her not having to run." She gave him a meaningful look, eyes narrowing.

"It can't be that bad."

Barbara shrugged, "If you're man enough, have her show you. If you're not- or she won't- Ask Bruce how he found her. Then see if you say that." And before he could sulk anymore, she stowed her laptop in it's compartment and left. He had every right to be pissed. At Bruce. At the Joker. At every injustice in the world. But- you hadn't had anything to do with it and she was tired of hearing about it.

_________________

"Jason," Bruce said glancing up, "you can't have-"

"It's not about guns," he snorted. "I'm not carrying the stupid crowbar. A tire Iron is more fun. I wanna know about Y/N."

"Why?" Bruce asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well, she's one of my replacements so-"

"No one replaced you, first of all. And second of all-"

"Where'd you find her?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He hadn't asked you. It felt weird. Mostly because you would barely look at him. And you only ever spoke to him when you needed to in order to be polite.

Bruce sat back in his chair with a sigh and scrubbed his hand through his hair. "If you use this to-"

"I just wanna know!" he protested. "Everyone treats her like a pet!"

"We," Bruce started after a long moment, "found her in the bottom of a cage. Almost dead. Mostly naked and filthy. Treated worse than an animal. If she hadn't whimpered, Dick would have thought she was dead." Bruce paused for a second; swallowing down the sick feeling he'd thought was the gore and the scent of blood in the air.

"Scientists were looking for kids like her. Kids with heightened abilities they could exploit," he explained. "She was the last survivor, somehow."

Jason wasn't looking at him. If not for how still he was, and how tense, Bruce would have thought he wasn't listening. But now, his sense of injustice was rankled. And he was listening. "Long story short," he continued, not wanting to dwell on it, "they wanted a soldier. They tried to desensitize her to violence and well. It didn't go like they planned."

"How?" he asked, looking up slowly.

"They forced her to kill people," Bruce said wincing.

"But when you found her-"

"She was trying to kill herself," Bruce said sadly. "She lost control and made a building of scientists and guards- about 20 people kill themselves."

[mentally-a-slut]

Hellooo, like I said I would, I am here to send a request your way! I hope it's not too boring, but could I ask you to write for "My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do?" with Gale saying it to Tav/reader? (Yes I absolutely had his "practiced tongue" in mind when I wrote this-)

I'd like it with a female Tav, but you are free to change that up if you prefer. I am simply here for the wizard and your writing😂

Teehee, I've been waiting for this one! So sorry this took so long, my internet was out for a few hours and then it took me a while to gather the motivation to open my blog. This one is pretty short and kinda gets straight into the action, but it's the best I can do rn. I hope it's okay! Tysm for the request, and I hope you like it.

Summary: Tav finds out how practiced Gale's tongue really is.

Warnings: smut! oral (f!receiving), whiny Tav, kind of dom!Gale but not really, Gale is cocky, Tav gives brat vibes, she/her pronouns and name Tav used but I left it neutral so you can imagine her as anyone or as yourself, smut starts below the cut!

Rating: E

She hadn't planned for her day to end up this way, but she wasn't complaining.

Tav had started the day ready to face the adventures in store, prepared for anything. It had been tiring as usual, ruthless battles that seemed to pop up at every turn as their group traveled. They survived, miraculously, and made camp just as the sun set.

She had gone to see Gale to chat, just as she always did in the evenings. Tav made a routine of checking in on all of her companions at the end of each day, and she told herself that she didn't favor anyone. Which was of course, a blatant lie, as she always looked forward to her check-ins with the wizard the most.

She had saved him for last, wanting to end her day with a pleasant conversation with a handsome man. She wasn't sure exactly what she had said to steer the conversation into what was now their current situation, but decided to just accept her fortune.

Besides, it was far too difficult to coherently form thoughts when her favorite wizard was knelt between her legs, mouth hovering inches away from her throbbing cunt.

His warm breath brushed her clit, sending a jolt of arousal up her spine that spread through her whole body. Then, his hoarse voice murmured in a low tone, teasing her. "My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do?"

She stifled a whine at his words, glaring down at the man. "You talk too much."

Before he had time to retort, she dug her fingers into his long hair, pressing him forward. He, for once, took the hint, and finally flicked his tongue out against her dripping folds.

"Fuck!" Her fingers tightened in his hair as his tongue flattened against her, writhing teasingly around her entrance. He hummed in amusement, which only served to frustrate her more as the vibration intensified the pleasure.

With a quick flick of his tongue against her clit, he finally dove into her, togue exploring her soft insides greedily. Just as fast as it had started, it was over, and he suddenly pulled back. Tav whipped her head up to glare at him, where her eyes settled on his teasing smirk. "Be a good girl and ask nicely."

"Fuck that!"

His hands squeezed her thighs as he moved back, preparing to get up. "Well then, I guess you don't want this bad enough."

She gaped at him, scoffing as he moved away. Just as he was about to leave, she groaned, giving into his ploy. "Wait!"

He froze, raising an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

She sighed, saying quietly: "Please."

He knelt down again, large hands returning to her spread thighs. "What was that?"

"You know what I said!"

He pulled away again slightly, and Tav frantically called to him. "Please! Please, Gale."

His smile was insufferable, eyes glinting with satisfaction and desire. "Good girl. Say it one more time?"

She opened her mouth to protest, but hesitated as she looked at him poised between her legs, his eyes flickering to her cunt, gaze filled with hunger. Her stomach tightened with even more arousal at his expression, seeing him so eager to please her. "Please. Please, I wanna feel your tongue- fuck!"

His tongue had returned to her immediately, caressing her fold with a newfound vigor. Her words failed her, his practiced movements rendering her to soft sighs and whines as he tasted her.

She gasped when his lips wrapped around her clit at the same time as a finger plunged into her, sending a wave of intense pleasure over her. He didn't hesitate, relentlessly assaulting her clit as he plunged his finger into her at a ruthless pace. Her brain had no time to catch up, blinded by the sheer pleasure of his movements.

Another fingers joined his first one, pace never faltering. His other hand held onto her thigh tightly, preventing her legs from clenching around him. Her muscles tensed as he continued his heavenly movements, stomach forming knots as his fingertips brushed against a spongy spot deep inside her.

She looked down at him when she felt a loss of sensation, his lips pulling away from her swollen clit. Her eyes met his darkened ones, and she couldn't help but moan as his fingers started making a come hither motion inside her, coaxing her impossibly close to her breaking point.

She felt his lips press soft kisses against the inside of her thigh as he sped up, his eyes transfixed on her fucked out expression. Tav struggled to keep her head upright, staring into his eyes as his fingertips pushed her over the edge, triggering her orgasm.

A string of curses fell from her lips, body trembling as he slowly coaxed her through it, but she managed to hold his gaze.

"Look at you, so pretty coming apart on my fingers. Such a good girl for me."

His low words of praise brought her back to earth, blurred vision focusing in on his darkened eyes. She barely even noticed as he carefully removed his fingers, whispering praise to her as he loved up to press his lips to hers.

Her mind was empty, only capable of think of him, of his fingers inside her, his lips melding perfectly with his, how his body felt pressed up against hers. She sighed into the kiss, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His kiss was slow and loving, yet held such desire.

She whined when he pulled back, pouting up at him. He chuckled, his hand squeezing her hip playfully. "Don't worry, love. There's plenty more where that came from."

[harleehazbinfics]

Absolutely Smitten [Can we? continuation]

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a/n: hi im back with more word puke. enjoyyyy

song credit: Dodie - Absolutely Smitten

A few months later...

"Your highness, are you sure about this?" Mary, my handmaid, worried asked in a shushed tone as she followed after me in the crowded city.

"Oh, Mary! It's fine~ No one here even recognizes me with this disguise on! It'd be a waste to let the day pass by without seeing the festival for myself!" you say joyfully as you held her wrist and dragged her with you, while your knight followed after you obediently also dressed as a mercenary.

You dragged her to all sorts of places in the kingdom. Eating street foods, playing with the children while they braided your hair (that was dyed), and sang and danced with the people in the plaza.

You laughed as you got passed to another partner in the dance. You were met with a familiar shade of red and yellow eyes.

It was his majesty!

"Lucifer—!" your exclamation was cut short when he shushes you with a playful look in his eyes.

"Shh, you'll blow my cover, love," he jests before tugging you to the rhythm of the music.

"I-I thought you couldn't come," you reply feeling happy to be sharing this dance with him.

"It'd break my heart to see you dance without me. Of course I'd come if it's you," he confesses fondly at you.

You blush and beam him a smile. You honestly did think you'd go through the day without dancing with your husband in the festival that the both of you planned for the people.

You were truly excited to take part on the first day of the festival. Though, you didn't want to be a spectacle and cause a commotion that'll hinder the people from enjoying their day with their friends and family. So, you opted for a cover.

You invited Lucifer of course, but due to the piled-up work that needed his attention, he said he couldn't attend with you. Truly this was a pleasant surprise to see him now with you. His usual blonde hair was now colored black and red cheeks nowhere to be found. You'd recognize immediately his eyes and the way they shined mischievously. That was your husband alright.

"You're staring," he says twirling you.

You smile and answer, "You still look handsome with black hair."

He chuckles and bows his head, "Why, thank you, fair maiden."

"Unfortunately, for you my good sir. I'm happily married to my husband," you played dramatically.

"He must be the luckiest stud alive if he could have your hand in marriage," he continues.

"That he is," you finish with a giggle.

She knows this feeling all too well,

She feels her heart begin to swell,

Handsome stranger, you have made her insides turn to jelly.

You laugh and shriek as he tosses you in the air, still doing the dance together.

She wants to dance around the room,

Kiss you until her lips turn blue,

You hug his neck once you landed back into his arms. Him securely holding onto you also liking how you were squeezing him.

But handsome stranger, you have made her wonder,

Is she pretty?

He pecks your cheek as he sets you down and runs off with you leaving your attendance in a panic.

But it's too late,

She believes in fate.

You look at him in bewilderment following after him.

She's absolutely smitten,

She'll never let you go.

You laugh once again and run alongside him as you escaped your maid and squeezed his hand tightly.

That girl just there, yes, she's the one,

With Cupid's arrow in her bum

You were standing in front of a stall that sold cotton candy. You pointed to the candy that was bigger than the size of your head. Lucifer smiled at you so lovestruck at how adorable you were being in front of him.

Handsome stranger, you have made her happy,

The first in a long time

You stuff his mouth full of cotton candy and laughed at his reaction. He was wide-eyed shocked at the sweetness that was stuck in his teeth. You would have fell over if you hadn't held onto his arm.

He shakes his head playfully and straightens you up his arms before swiping his hand across your face to tame your now unruly hair.

He leans towards you and bumps your heads together with a smile before whispering, "You're so adorable and, oh so, beautiful. I love everything you do. I love you."

Did you just whisper in her ear?

Words she only dreamed to hear?

You cover your mouth with red dusting your cheeks from his confession. You've never been confessed to so sincerely before. It was thrilling and it made your heart feel full being loved by someone you loved.

Pretty lady, look at how he's smiling,

I think he likes you.

You stare at his red eyes that was tinted in orange hues from the light. He looked at you so intently as if he was being enchanted. Any bystander would take notice of his affection towards his lady.

But it's too late,

You believe in fate.

You bashfully took his face in your hand and leaned closer to him for an emotional kiss.

You're absolutely smitten,

You'll never let her go.

"I love you, Lucifer," you whisper as you broke the kiss somewhat breathless.

He practically beams as radiant as the sun and engulfs you in a hug lifting you off your feet. Elated that you finally said those words to him.

"No take backs now, (Y/n)! You said it yourself!" He exclaims twirling you both around til you were dizzy.

"Alright, alright! You win!" You call joyfully clutching onto his clothes.

🔗 Other Lucifer Fics:

@bonnie-02 @marxo5 @whaatttlaufey @froggybich @rybunnie @midorichoco @bontensbabygirl @janey @akiralife @wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @preciousbabypeter @roboticsuccubus83 @simbalioness @reachthestars @atlas-rin @manachpo @luc1fersducky @lovestruck-enby @azullynxx @delightedtosee @cherry-4200 @aria-tempest @lvstyangel @0strawberrysorbet0 @corvid007 @kaminarithebest @whydosnakesnotdance @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @lunalily19 @dionysusismypatrongod

[dianadiaries]

— my motorcycle.

🐈‍⬛️ notes. : meanish!jungkook sub!reader dom!jungkook, smut, motorcycle sex. [These are small notes not all.]

✒️ : all minors will be blocked, please mind you are what you consume. WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT

— INTRODUCING ...

You sighed another day had pasted and you still haven't seen that strange man from before.. his perfect pitch black hair and rough skin. Don't even get me started on the tattoos that were embedded on his arm. He was your type.. your kind of man and the motorcycle was the chery on top for you.

I wanted him...I need him.

"Well well...(your name) who are you looking cute for?" The lady who ran and owned the bar asked as she saw you looking around for something. You giggle a tad and look down at your outfit before answering her question.

"Maybe Ma'am, it's this guy." You say still looking down at my outfit... well you needed to stick out especially if you wanted to get his attention..

"You see darlin' it's always with them boys.. he better treat you right little missy." She says eyeing me down before giving a smirk and laughing it off. You giggle with her and nod your head.

— I like the way your body is.. is that to obvious?

as if you had summon him with the conversation. You hear the bar's door slam open.. it was him.. the JUNGKOOK. The man you have been waiting for... the man for you.

< right? He has to want me..? ... wait is he- wait he is walking up to me.. wait no not me to the tab.. >

You think to yourself and quickly hide your flushed face as he continues to walk this way. You quickly run to the washroom to clear yourself up before leaving... today was a small step.?

< why can I just ask him out.. >

Before you can think again is quickly cut off by the bathroom door slamming open, it was him? WAIT it was him.

"Your..(yourname) correct?"

Jungkook says slightly looking up and down.. his eyes lingering around the curves of the short dress.

"Uh.. y-yes.. how did you know."

You say mentally fucking yourself for stuttering infront of this Godess and God of a man.

"The lady up there said you have a thing for me.. and I do for you to princess. So.. will you join me"

Jungkook says lifting up your chin very slightly and looking you in your eyes, you look up face probably even more flushed then it was before. You give him a quick nod and he grabs my hand and we rush outside.. little did you know the lady in the tab was smirking... her little plan was working..

"Mm princess you... look amazing. Shit.. I want you.. can we do it on my motorcycle.. please anywhere."

Jungkook says with a cute begging tone . How can you even say no.

"Fuck. Yes please sir, ruin me here.!" I say in a more or equal begging tone..

Jungkook slightly smirks.. his ego probably boosting to the neediness of your voice, what can he say.. he is a man whore he bends you over on his motorcycle making sure its balanced.. insured to not fall.

"S-shit... is this okay princess?"

Jungkook says, and you nod and balance yourself even more as Jungkook smiles then starts to lift up your dress revealing your now soaked panties.. Jungkook chuckles at the sight.. He suddenly took your panties off and stuffed them in his pocket... he said it was for safekeeping. Then he sticks his two slim fingers up your cute squishy cunt.

"M-mm..!! J-jungkook.."

You can barely moan out.. you knew his fingers were long but not this long.. holy shit. Although Jungkook doesn't say anything he keeps to himself and focuses on your cunt and its noises. Soft and warm squelches are heard from your cunt and Jungkook's lengthy fingers pumping in and out... like a washing machine cycle.. over and over again.

"I'm close Sir!! Please can I make a mess? Can I cum!?"

You say in a whining tone..

"Mm your a good slut.. that's fine cum over my fingers like a whore princess."

Jungkook says not paying any mind to your cunt fluttering around his fingers as your cunt squirts your sweet juices all over his motorcycle.

— Like kehlani is, Bad just like kehlani

Jungkook brings his fingers up to his mouth and slurps up your sweetie juices.. he could almost bust just to that. But he isn't a total loser to cum in his pants like that. But soon enough his pants and undergarments are off.

"S-shit.. I've been imagining this.. your cute little sexy body on my motorcycle and me fucking you till your a stupid whore and only know the shape of my fucking dick."

Jungkook rambles.. then he pushes his tip in your still tight cunt. With his lengthy dick your unsure if all of him would even fit he could tell and rubbed your cheek and gave you a quick peck. Still pushing the rest of his length in.. then it is finally in... and it's stretching you perfectly.

"F-fuck! Jungkook I need you so bad!! Please move fuck me.. I'm your slut."

You say moaning.. you should feel embarrassed or weirded out.. but you did.. you wanted to be his slut. Anything for him. The only thing jungkook does is accepts your offer and slowly starts to thrust up in your now slutty cunt. Groans and grunts coming out of Jungkook as he speeds up his pace and jisk of things.

"Shit your so fucking perfect baby.. made for this dick right? My slut."

Jungkook groans out still thrusting into your cunt as you squirm.

"Ah.. ah. Yes sir !! Y-y-yes sir !! Your slut.. slut.. fuck I'm about to c-cum!!"

You moan out feeling your cunt squish down on Jungkooks huge dick. Jungkook nods in approval..

"I'm close to baby.. shit cum with me."

Jungkook says thrusting in your cunt at an even faster pace then before.. then you feel your high wash over you.. your juices all over. Not even seconds after that you feel a hot liquid spilling in you.. jungkooks seed.

"I love you so fucking much.."

Jungkook says kissing your everywhere

"I love you mo-"

RING RING RING...

"9:00 am."

what..? It was a dream.? You almost torn off your blanket.. wait where were your panties?...

kehlani....

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✒️ : AUTHOR NOTE!! : mm this was okay kinda good kinda bad you know!

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Five ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Five Warnings: profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Five]

You stared at Lute blankly for a minute, feeling the expression of dread creeping onto your face, before stiffening and putting on the most blank, stoic look you could muster as you straightened your posture and stepped aside to let her in. 

She glanced around your neat and tidy living room, before hooking her helmet onto the coat stand. “Real fucking clean, huh?”

“Hmm?” You side eyed her helmet which was teetering dangerously and readjusted it, which made her snap around and glare at your fingertips which touched the headpiece. You shrank away as she fixed it herself. “Yes, I keep my living space clean. Thank you for noticing.”

Lute rolled her eyes. “Such a fuckin’ goody-two-shoes,” she muttered, as if you couldn’t hear her, stalking further into the living room. 

“Sit,” you said, gesturing at your spotless couch. She sat down, pushing aside the plush cushions, “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Got any alcohol?”

You stared at her. “No, I don’t. Sorry.” 

Lute stared at you in shock, before it morphed into a strange type of contempt, and then back to cold indifference. “‘Course you don’t.”

“You said you needed to talk to me?” You forced the words out through your teeth. She scowled and stood up, stepping towards you.

“I did. This won’t take long.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, as if being around you was the most tiring experience she could have had. 

“Well?”

Her eyes snapped open, sharp and inquisitive. You clenched your fists. “Why do you go down to Hell every year?” She hissed, voice accusing. You stepped back, frowning. 

“For the experience,” you said slowly. She laughed harshly.

“Experience,” she laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard.” The laughter dropped from her face almost immediately. “Be real. You go down to Hell, and then just- fly off. Alone. Doing God knows what. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re up to something.”

Your mind raced, searching desperately for an action plan. “I’m not up to anything, Lute. I don’t have things to hide. Unlike some people.” She scowled. “I go off alone because I prefer the company of no one. Understood?”

“Still haven’t said why-“

“Because,” you hissed, “I find Hell interesting. And frankly, things get repetitive. You and Adam said it yourself- the extermination is entertainment. So let me be ‘entertained’ in peace, and stop throwing around ridiculous accusations with nothing to back them up.” 

Lute opened her mouth to talk, and you could almost sense the onslaught of curses coming your way. You cut her off.

“Plus, who do you think Heaven will listen to? Me, or…” you raked your eyes judgingly up and down her tense figure. You didn’t need to finish your sentence for her to understand what you were saying.

Lute seemed to sag a little as your words sunk in, then sniffed. “Fine. Miss goody-two-shoes’s way too fucking boring to have anything interesting going on for her anyway.”

“Close the door on your way out,” you said coldly.

Lute stalked across the living room, snatching up her helmet in a flurry of angered movement. She froze at the door and turned. 

“I will find out.”

The door slammed in her wake. 

You let out a long, slow breath, feeling like you were about to collapse as you made your way to the kitchen table, dropping down in front of it and laying down your head to rest, screwing your eyes shut.

Please God don’t let this spiral any further. Please please please-

You opened your eyes. God wouldn’t help you in this. God would root for your downfall. You shuddered and pressed the stone on your bracelet. 

Buzz.

A few seconds ticked by, the air thick with no other noise other than your clock. 

Buzz. The stone lit up in reply. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You smiled. 

♱♱♱

The short librarian behind the desk seemed to blink with each eye individually as you expressed your need for a book on Morse Code to her. Eventually she wheezed, squeezing her way out of the chair and lumbered over to a section at the back. 

“This is the section with Human stuff in it,” she said slowly, staring at you as if you were stupid. It was clear she had a only vague grasp on what she was talking about. “You’ll find it here.” And then fluttered away without another word. 

You stared at the shelf, at a loss. 

“Need help?”

You turned. “Emily.”

“[name]!” She hugged you. You coughed as her wings attacked your face with a barrage of feathers. “How was your weekend?”

“It was fine.” You pulled back, holding her at arm's length.

“That’s nice. So. What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you here in the library before.” 

You traced a covering of dust on the spine of a book, drawing squiggles in it. “Do you frequent this place?”

“I do. I know this library like the back of my hand. Inside and out.”

“Are there any books on Morse Code?”

She seemed to freeze. You stared at her blankly. “What?”

“Nothing, just… why?”

You frowned. “Because I’m bored, and it’s nice to learn new things.”

“Right. Take a seat over there and I’ll join you soon.”

“Oh… Kay?”

You did as she said, and watched her flutter around the bookshelves for a while, disturbing the probably centuries-worth of dust while a small pile of books in her hand continued to grow. 

Moments later the pile landed in front of you with a small thump. 

“I-I only really needed one, Emily,” you stammered as she began to sift through the hefty books. 

“Oh it’s fine. The rest of these are for me.” A dusty tome was pushed across the table to you. The cover was in faded gold: ‘Human Inventions- Morse Code Dictionary.’

“Thanks,” you managed to utter. Emily smiled. You opened the thick cover, sending a cloud of dust straight into your face and making you sneeze. 

For a few minutes, the two of you read in silence. 

“By the way,” Emily murmured. You glanced up from the pages. “Adam was looking for you.”

“Charming,” you said sarcastically.

“He had flowers,” Emily continued carefully. 

“How delightful.” 

“[name], are you not even going to give him a chance?”

You stared at her. “You’re not serious.”

Emily shrugged nervously. “I’m not exactly a big fan of him either, but…you have to admire his perseverance, is what I’m saying. It’s been three years-”

“Three years of not taking a hint,” you snapped. Emily looked taken aback. You sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “I’m sorry.” You stood up, your chair raking across the floor. “I need to go.”

Snatching the book up to your chest, you hurried out. 

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay tuned!

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Fight: Chaggie ft. Emily

Puppy Love part 3 / Jazzercise part 2

Charlie: (hyping herself up and shadow boxing as she walks into the new hotel gym) Alright! I got this! I've been working on my cardio. Just a few more sessions before- *SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!!*

Vaggie: (wearing even shorter spandex shorts than last time, wrist wraps, and her sports bra, grunting as she works through a set of Muscle Ups, body absolutely slick with sweat) Eighteen!!!..... Gah, fuck! .......Nineteen!!!

Emily: (hair tied up in a messy bun, powder blue, long sleeve, skin tight exercise shirt, and navy blue shorts that cut off just below her glutes) Come on, Vaggie! You got this! One more!

Vaggie: (takes a deep breath, scowls as she grits her teeth, and nearly roars as she muscles her way up and over the bar into a full extension) Twenty!!!

Emily: (jumps and squeals excitedly) Woohoo! You did it! (makes another check on a whiteboard) That's three rounds of twenty muscle ups, fifty mountain climbers, and 100 jump-ropes!

Vaggie: (drops to the floor with a sigh, wipes her face with her black sweat rag, and takes a drink of water) Thanks for helping me push through, Emily. I was kind of surprised you even showed up. Charlie didn't have another group exercise planned for a couple more days when the next meeting with Heaven came up.

Emily: (staring bashfully at Vaggie's muscles) Oh! Well, you know! I figured it would be good to come down early! You know. Catch up with Charlie. (eyes scour over Vaggie's abs and shoulders) See the sights.

Vaggie: (suddenly feeling a little naked) Riiiiiiiiight.... Well, I'm gonna go hit the showers. Thanks again for the help. (quickly jogs towards the door and stops as she sees Charlie) Hey, Babe! I didn't know you were going to be working out today. You should have said something. I would have waited for you. (shifts her eye back at Emily)

Emily: (awkwardly looks around to make sure she isn't being watched before she sneakily takes the sweat rag Vaggie left behind)

Vaggie: (whispering back to Charlie with a slight blush and a wink) We could have shared a shower after.

Charlie: (heart throbs painfully) Dammit! How did I not think of that before now?!

Vaggie: (chuckles before kissing Charlie lightly on the cheek) Another time. I'll be sure to save you some hot water. Love you. (slips through the door and jogs up to their room)

Charlie: Love you too~ (eyes dart to Emily as soon as the door closes and she zips over to the pull up bars with a smile painfully plastered on her face) Hi, Emily!

Emily: Yipe! (jumps and hides Vaggie's rag behind her back) Oh! H-Hi, Charlie! H-How are you?

Charlie: I'm good. I'm good. (obviously not good as her tail slithers along the floor behind her like a snake ready to strike) I wasn't expecting to see you for a few days.

Emily: Oh! Yeah, well, l-like I told Vaggie. I figured I'd come down a little early so we could catch up!

Charlie: (sickly sweet tone) Well, what better way to catch up and build a bond than by exercising together?! (wraps an arm around Emily's shoulder tightly and leads her over to the treadmills) How about it, Emily? I'm sure you guys up in Heaven exercise all the time!

Emily: (balks) Actually, Charlie, I'm suddenly not feeling the greatest. I think I got teleportation sickness.

Charlie: Then a light jog should help you get that good airflow that you need. (pushes Emily on a treadmill and takes the one right next to her before turning them both on and ramping up the incline and speed to 5/10 and 6/10) This should be a good warmup, right?

Emily: eeep!

-Later-

Charlie: (sitting and soaking her dead legs in an ice bath with a whine-growl)

Vaggie: (brings in a protein shake and hands it to Charlie) And what did we learn?

Charlie: (growling and baring her teeth like an angry puppy as she takes the shake) To mark every last inch of your skin the week Emily arrives. (all sad and sappy) She's still my friend! (back to snarling as she takes a sip of her drink) But she needs to remember that you're MINE!!!

Vaggie: (blushing) ......Did I completely miss something?

-In one of the guest rooms-

Emily: (whimpering as she soaks her noodle legs in a hot bath) Owie.... (stares at the sweat rag on the bathroom sink) ......*sigh* Worth it. I'll have to apologize to Charlie later. I think she liked those rainbow sprinkles back in Heaven.

[rowaelinsdaughter]

thinking about feyre and reader stealing rhys clothes.

smut below the cut, mostly f!oral receiving, squirting (i wasnt planning writing this but i couldnt contain myself)

feyre would love to steal rhys shirt's. she would leave them open while only wearing her underwear when they are at home. rhys would make sure nobody enters, its only the three of them, so feyre uses his shirts as dresses, but she loves them open. maybe sometimes she would wear a top and short bottoms, but most of the time its just only the underwear.

this makes it easier for reader and rhys to leave marks or just eat her out. she would just set aside her panties while rhys is behind her pinching her nipples and kissing her neck. all this while the breakfast is forgotten on the table at their living room.

and for reader, she would love rhys t-shirt's. long dresses that cover her body. she would look tiny in them, and both her mates would mock her about it but they ABSOLUTE love her in his t-shirts. she would woke up earlier than them, leaving them in the bed sleeping after a fun night. she opened the closet and took her favorite t-shirt. a soft lilac one, one she bought him and now his scent was all over it. like every weekend, they were alone at home, nualla and cerridwen resting on their home.

she was making breakfast when she felt a pair of hands on her waist, big hands. rhys. "good morning, sweetheart" his voice was raspy from sleep and by the buldge on his pants and how she could feel it, she knew he was only wearing some pants. she turned around, both her hands found a place on his muscular chest, drawing the ink with her fingertips. he gave her a lazy smile while his hands gripped her waist and lifted her on the kitchen island. "now youre going to be a good girl for me and youre going to let me eat my breakfast" her hands gripped his shoulders when he felt his hands under the t-shirt. a low moan falling from her parted lips. his lips were on her neck, biting and kissing, swapping the intensity, making her dizzy. "fuck doll, i love when youre wearing my clothes"

his hands lifted the t-shirt exposing her dripping cunt. no underwear, like she was expecting this to happen. "youre a little slut, wearing only my t-shirt with no underwear" he bite her bottom lip "i love it" he fell to his knees, kissing her legs all the way up to her cunt, leaving bites and when he licked her, she let a moan. he was devouring her, eating her like it was his breakfast. she was so high from the pleasure she didnt sensed feyre enter the kitchen, but feyre was behind her. her knees on either side of her body while her hands went directly to her breasts. "having fun without me?" she purred to her ear. feyre pinched her nipples through the t-shirt, a louder moan falling from her as her head fell back, resting on feyre's shoulder.

"i wanna cum, i wanna cum please" she said like a mantra. rhys stopped eating her. "you wanna cum, doll?." she nodded and added "please i wanna cum so bad, please, please" rhys caressed her legs and looked at feyre, lust and mischief shinning in his violet eyes. "what do you think feyre darling, we should let our doll cum?" he was still caressing her legs. feyre took her face with a hand, she looked her glossy eyes, her swollen lips and smiled. but she didnt gave rhys an answer, all she did was kiss her. hard and passionate. just as they always did. rhys smiled and went on to devour her.

feyre swallowed her moans and her hands gripped his hair. like an invitation to go faster, rhys started to eat her more vividly. she was at her breaking point, she felt the knot, she needed to cum badly. as rhys inserted three fingers inside her cunt while treating her clit, she felt her orgasm ripping her apart. a wave of pleasure made her back arc on feyre's chest. she didn't know she was shouting, moaning, all she know is she hadn't feel that type of frenzy ever. feyre pulled apart, a trail of spit connected their swollen lips. she was breathing fast and heavy. feyre caressed her cheek "good job doll". she looked down at rhys and saw the mess she had made. she had squirt. something she didn't knew it would happen. "fuck doll, that was hot" he murmured. rhys stood up, a finger under her chin so she could look at him. "ready for round two, doll?"

yeah, they both love to steal rhys clothes.

tags;; @amara-moonlight @throneofsapphics @thehighladywrites @vanserrasswife @loneliestluvr @vanserrasswife

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

[roosterforme]

Take Two | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley got you pregnant, he blew his chance at a relationship with you. He loves his daughter, but he never stopped loving you too.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff and smut

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This is based on a lovely request! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was almost home. Deployments had always been hard on him. He loved flying, but living out of a duffle bag and sharing a bunk were difficult. He liked the feeling of stability, of being in his own house.  

He also missed his daughter so much, it made the weeks nearly unbearable. He was starting to fear that the three and a half year old wouldn't recognize him when he got back. She had eyes the same exact color as his, and he loved the way she ran into his arms when she saw him, big brown eyes smiling. 

But Bradley would be lying to himself if he said he didn't miss you, too. The toughest part about that was the fact that he was certain you didn't miss him when he was gone. Sure, you probably missed having a co-parent around, missed having Bree's dad to watch her while you worked weekends at the hospital. 

But he missed you. He missed the way you used to make love to him, and the way you used to make him feel important. He missed your voice and your lips and the way you used to sleep next to him. But that was before he knocked you up, forcing you to drop out of nursing school. And the two of you hadn't even been in a proper relationship, so you refused to humor his idea of getting married. You told him you didn't want to "tie him down". And stupidly, he had agreed. 

As Bradley deboarded from the aircraft carrier and tossed his bag into the back of a taxi, he texted you to let you know he was back. He wanted to see Bree as soon as possible. Tonight if he could. And he thought maybe both of you could come to his place. He would order a pizza, and you could stay for a while too. Bree could sleep over, and maybe you'd hang out and talk to him. 

"Great! My sitter cancelled at the last minute, and I have plans tonight. Could I swing by with her around 6?" 

Bradley jumped at the chance and let you know he would keep Bree for a few days if you wanted. Nothing would be a better welcome home treat for him than spending time with her. He just wished you would hang out too.

After he showered, sorted his laundry and cleaned his place, he made some spaghetti to share with his daughter. And right at six, you were knocking on his door. The sight that welcomed him made his heart leap into his throat. You had Bree in your arms, and two of the most beautiful faces he'd ever seen smiled at him. 

"Daddy!" Bree cried, pushing out of your arms and into his. Bradley held his daughter and planted kisses all over her face.

"I missed you, kiddo," he whispered into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled at you as he held Bree and gestured for you to come inside. You closed the door behind you, and Bradley really got a good look at what you were wearing. Tight, long sleeve cream shirt tucked into a short pleated skirt with high heels. You looked hot. And instantly he knew you were going on a date tonight. 

"You look pretty," he told you, still hugging Bree. "You have a date?"

"Uh, thanks," you told him with a half smile. "Yeah, a guy from work."

Bradley took that to mean rich, good looking doctor, and instantly wanted to run him over with his Bronco. 

"Well, he has good taste," Bradley said before carrying Bree into the kitchen. He didn't want to know how good you fucking looked when you were going out with someone else. "You hungry, kiddo? I made spaghetti for us. And I have garlic bread with the crust cut off. You can eat the yummy part, and I'll eat the horrible crust. Sound good?"

"Yes!" she cheered as Bradley set her down at the table with a plate of food and a cup of milk. 

"You're welcome to stay too," he told you with a smile. "I'd love it if you had time to hang out for a while." Because why not just punish himself by pining away in your presence for a few minutes more?

Bradley watched you check the time on his microwave. You kind of nodded your head as you said, "Yeah, just a few minutes though."

"Want some spaghetti?" he asked you as he made up a plate for himself.

"It's good, mommy!" Bree announced, so of course you said yes to a small plate.

Bradley tried his best to act normal while he sat and ate dinner with the two of you, but he couldn't keep the hopeful feeling out of his chest. This was the life he wished he could come home to after a deployment. This is what he wished he could have all the time. You were taking a bite of spaghetti and covering your mouth to laugh at Bree who dropped a meatball on the kitchen floor. 

"Oop," she said, eyes wide, but Bradley kissed her on the forehead and knelt down to pick it up with a napkin. 

"No big deal, kiddo," he promised, and he met your eyes as he stood up to throw it away.

You smiled at him and kind of rolled your eyes as you said, "She really missed you. We both did."

Bradley sat down and looked at you across the table. "You both did?"

"Of course. Raising her alone is hard work. I love it when you're in town."

"Yeah," he sighed, pushing some pasta around on his plate. "But see, here's the thing... I actually miss you when I'm away." Peeking up from his plate, he found you were looking at him.

Your brow scrunched as you asked him, "Are you serious right now?"

Bradley didn't know why he said that to you. He opened his mouth to try to laugh it off, but he watched in horror as Bree sent another meatball careening across the table. This one was headed directly for you and your pretty cream colored outfit.

Bradley reached for it, but he was too late. He watched the meatball roll into your lap after splattering sauce on your shirt.

Always the calm presence, you barely reacted to the situation, other than to scoop the meatball from your lap with your napkin and sigh deeply. "Bree, do not play with your food, okay? Finish up so you can get to bed."

Bradley was on his way to the sink, wetting a bunch of paper towels. "Here, let me help." Bradley pulled you to your feet and tried to clean your outfit, but it was probably destroyed.

"It's okay. I can tell Bree's overtired. It's not really her fault," you said softly as he got to his knees and scrubbed your skirt. He could feel the warmth from your body as he slid his hand behind the fabric, and he had to fight the urge to run his fingers along your thighs. A few years ago, he had been able to make you moan his name, and he could think of nothing else at the moment.

Gazing up at you from the floor, he found you were already giving him a curious look. "I don't think it's going to come out," he whispered with a wince.

You chuckled sarcastically. "It's okay, Bradley. Dating when you're a single mom is impossible, and this is just one example why."

Bree hopped down from her seat and hugged Bradley where he knelt on the floor. She looked up at you as well and, "I'm sorry, mommy."

"I'm not mad, baby. How about you get ready for bed?"

Bradley picked up Bree and stood. "Let's get your pajamas on, kiddo. And I'll pull out something mommy can change into as well." He carried his daughter into his bedroom, peppering her face with kisses and making her giggle uncontrollably. He left a clean tee shirt and some sweatpants with a drawstring on his bed and told you to change if you wanted to. Then he took Bree into her bedroom and got her changed for bed. 

"I love you," he whispered to her as he tucked her in bed. "I'll take you to the zoo tomorrow, and we can go out for lunch. How does that sound?"

"Good. Love you, daddy," she said with a yawn, and by the time she rolled onto her side, her breathing was already soft and even as she fell asleep. Bradley stood next to the bed and watched her for a few minutes before switching on her unicorn nightlight and pulling the door until it was only open a tiny crack. 

When he walked back into this living room, Bradley froze at the sight of you sitting on the couch. You had changed into his clothing and made yourself comfortable like you intended to stay. You were typing on your phone, all snuggled back into the cushions with your feet curled up. He saw that your toenails were painted purple, and he immediately wanted to undress you again. 

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice raspier than usual. 

You looked up from your phone, eyes wide with a faint smile. "Yeah, I just texted Melvin and told him tonight isn't going to work out."

Bradley hoped that meant you would stay for a bit. "Wait. His name is Melvin?"

You rolled your eyes. "Your name is Brad Brad! I don't think you should be making fun of anyone else!"

"Melvin? Jesus, honey, how old is this guy?" Bradley asked, grinning as he sat down next to you. 

"Stop it," you said with a laugh. "He's just a little bit older than me."

"No, no, no. I'm just a little bit older than you," Bradley said, draping his arm across the back of the couch and leaning toward you. 

You pouted and rolled your eyes again. "He's thirteen years older than me. He's divorced, and his kids are grown. I like him. He's sweet."

Bradley let his eyes roam all over your face. He loved your face. Your eyes were bright, and you had pouty lips and a little scar next to your nose. He licked his lips and whispered, "You used to think I was sweet."

You stared at him, lips parted and a contemplative look on your face. "You were sweet. The sweetest."

Bradley's heart was racing. He ran his fingers through his hair. You were here, on his couch, seemingly willing to talk about things. He wanted to know why he wasn't with you now. "What happened to us?"

"Bree happened to us." 

He shook his head. "No. That's not it. Because I still wanted to be with you." His voice grew softer as he added, "But you changed your mind."

"Bradley, we were just long-term messing around. We weren't even together," you said, but now you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"We should have been. And that's my fault. I'm paying for it now..."

You turned fully toward him on the couch and sat up on your knees. "Bradley.... being willing to marry someone and wanting to marry someone are two completely different things. I didn't want to hold you back, so I ended it."

He huffed out a breath and ran his fingers along your jaw. Your eyes fluttered closed, your long lashes brushing against your cheek. "I was so stupid. I should have given us more time together before I offered to marry you. I know you don't want me now, but I wish you did."

You moaned and pressed your face into his palm. "Oh, Bradley." It was barely a whisper, but his entire body heard it, responded to it. You opened your eyes, and he gently pulled you toward him. At first you seemed surprised, so he paused, and then your arms went around his neck and your fingers sunk into his hair. 

"Honey, please," he whispered, and your lips were on his. You moaned into his mouth and straddled his thighs, and Bradley held you tight. Your lips met his in sweet and heated kisses. It felt like no time had passed since you had been doing this together every day. The past few years without you seemed like a waste of time now, and Bradley never wanted you and Bree to leave. 

"We were so good together," he mumbled, his lips brushing yours with every word. But his memory didn't do you justice. Holding you was better than he had remembered. Kissing you was the best thing he had ever felt. 

You pulled away from his lips, and Bradley was ready to beg you for more. But you laced your fingers with his and guided his hand around your waist and under the tee shirt, before letting go and returning your hand to his hair. 

Bradley watched the expression on your face as he gently moved his fingers up your side, teasing your soft skin as he went. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, and soon his fingers were ghosting over your lace covered breast. 

"You wore something sexy for Melvin," he growled, pulling you tighter to him, posessively.

You giggled. The sound both warmed his heart and infuriated him. "No," you whispered, placing a kiss on his neck. "I wore something sexy for me. Being a mom is hard, and I wanted to feel good tonight. Melvin wasn't going to see it."

"He better never see it," Bradley grunted as he squeezed your breast. You tipped your head back and rocked your core against him, and Bradley had to bite his lip. "Oh, honey. Please tell me I'm allowed to see it."

He watched you inch his shirt up over your belly until he could see creamy colored lace and the round globes of your tits. You were curvier now that you'd had Bree, and Bradley was practically salivating as you tossed the shirt to the floor.

"Fuck," he whispered, running his palms along the lace and making you whine his name. Bradley was hard as a rock now, and you kept rolling your hips against his, your voice shaking as you spoke.

"Bradley, if we do this, things are going to get messy." Your voice was pleading with him, but your hand was reaching for the zipper of his jeans. 

"I've always wanted a messier life," he replied, nipping at your jaw and neck as you reached your hand inside his pants and grabbed his dick. He hissed in a breath, trying to keep himself thinking straight. 

"I'm serious," you told him, squeezing him before stroking your thumb along his length. "I want you, but I don't want to make anything harder for Bree."

Bradley stood with you in his arms, and you squeaked before wrapping yourself tighter around his neck and waist. "I'm taking you to bed. I don't want anything to be harder for you or Bree either, but honey, I think I need you."

You moaned against his neck as he carefully walked down the dark hallway. "You need me? Physically?"

Everything you said was going to his head and making him dizzy, but at least he knew how to answer that. "No, I want you physically. But I need you."

When he set you down on his bed, you pulled him on top of you and let him settle between your thighs. He reached underneath you and took your bra off, and he had to bite his knuckle to keep himself under control.

"You missed me," you muttered, looking up at him, watching him as he lowered his mouth to your chest. You cried out his name as he licked and sucked on you. 

"I missed you so much." Bradley yanked the sweatpants down your hips, and when he found cream colored underwear that matched your bra, he kissed you through the fabric, burying his face against you. 

When you ground up into his face, he yanked your underwear off as well and started licking your soaking pussy. You were so wet, and he already knew how good you tasted. It was like he had been starving and finally got the only thing he wanted.

You were whining in earnest now, your voice seemingly unable to form words as he licked you and sucked on your clit. When you told him you were close, he fucked you slowly with two fingers until you were practically begging.

"Bradley." You grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up to lick the seam of his lips and his mustache, tasting yourself all over his face. "I want you to fuck me."

He gasped for air, his dick already getting wet, gliding against your pussy. "Honey... I don't have any condoms."

Your whine was loud and desperate. "I didn't bring any either. But I'm on the pill now."

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm. Please?"

He pushed himself inside you and it felt too good. "I'm not about to get you pregnant again until we are officially together," he whispered against your neck once he was fully seated and thrusting. 

You and he moved with each thrust in a dance that the two of you were very familiar with. The give and take was something Bradley knew by heart and had been missing for far too long. You held his face and kissed his lips, and his hands worked all over your body, delighted at the chance to memorize you again. 

When you rolled him over onto his back and rode him, Bradley got to feel your curves from this new angle. "You're fucking gorgeous. You feel better than ever," he whispered, caressing your thighs and belly and palming your tits. 

You were getting loud now as you bounced on him, and Bradley pulled your mouth down to his so you wouldn't wake up Bree. Your kisses and moans of pleasure had him so close to the edge. And then you did that little thing, that twist of your hips, that he used to love so much. 

He grunted, feeling the beginning of his orgasm as you swirled your hips one more time. Your pussy squeezed him as you came, and Bradley let himself cum inside you as you rode him. Then he stayed inside you until he was soft and you were breathing normally. 

Bradley reached up and pulled you gently down until your cheek was resting against his chest. He played with your hair and kissed your forehead for a bit, trying to work up the nerve to ask you for what he wanted. Finally, when you started shifting like you were going to get up, he asked, "Will you sleep over?"

You turned your chin to look at his face and kissed his lips. "Yes."

------------------------------------------

Bradley woke up to you snuggled against him with your back pressed to his front. "Morning," you whispered into the silent room as soon as he started shifting his legs.

"Morning, honey," he whispered against your ear before kissing your neck. When you didn't move, he wrapped his arm tighter around you and held you longer. 

Finally you sighed. "Bree will be waking up soon. Do you think I should leave?"

"What? No! I want to make breakfast for both of you."

"But she might get confused if she finds me here, wearing your clothing and eating with you."

Bradley was silent for a beat. "What if we make it a regular thing?"

"What?" you asked, turning to face him with confusion on your face. 

Now Bradley held you so your breasts were pressed against his chest. He pushed your hair back from your face and kissed your nose. "Let's make it a regular thing. Let's make it real, honey. I wanna put a title on it. I want you to go to work on Monday and tell Melvin that things just aren't going to work out with him."

You giggled, and Bradley felt his face break out into a smile as you said, "Things were never going to work out with Melvin. Things were never going to work out with anyone I dated. Because they weren't you."

Bradley rolled you onto your back and kissed you hard, climbing on top of you. "Just say the words, honey. Say them, and I'm yours and Bree's, for real this time. We can all be together." 

You nodded up at him, smiled and said, "I love you."

Bradley felt like he got the wind knocked out of him. Those actually weren't the words he was hoping for. They were even better. 

"Yeah, those words will do," he told you, kissing you hard again. "I love you, too. You and Bree. Both of you."

You and Bradley managed to get dressed and make it to the kitchen before your daughter came stumbling out in her pajamas whining that she was hungry. She didn't question why both of her parents were eating eggs and toast with her at her dad's house. And she didn't question why both parents took her to the zoo and out for pizza. She didn't even question why they were holding hands and kissing each other. 

But when you both tucked her into bed, she asked, "Can all three of us play together again tomorrow? I liked it."

Bradley kissed Bree's forehead and then wrapped his arm around your waist. "Yeah, kiddo. I liked it too. How about we do that all the time?" he asked both of his girls.

Bree nodded and rolled onto her side, exhausted from the fun day. You nodded and pulled him out into the hallway, kissing him on the way to bed. 

---------------------------------------

Hope you guys liked this one! It was a little different, but I thought it turned out to be pretty special!

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[mechaknight-98]

Anniversary Gifts (NSFW) Ft. Haseul

Authors note: in effort to have a more consistent and clear master list with constant naming conventions I am reposting this pieces because Tumblr wouldn't let me edit

You sat in the living room of your shared apartment practicing on your electric drum set (too many neighbors complained about the real one) you had an idea for the baseline of a new song and were trying to hammer it out before your girlfriend got back from work. You had got the basic beating down and were currently working on the other flourishes when the door opened. You were all smiles when she walked through the door. “Honey I'm home,” she said cheery.

“Glad you made it safe Seulie,” you say as she walks in. When she enters your field of vision you barely resist stripping her and ravishing her then and there. She was wearing her denim jeans that flared at her hips just right to make her ass pop, her hair was cut short in the Bob that made you feral, and underneath her leather jacket she was wearing a white blouse that made accentuated her chest.

“You like my ootd?” Hasuel said with a smirk. She knew that you were fighting your urges as she sashayed over to you. She got on your lap and smiled adorably as if unaware of her effect on you, “well you've been quiet, I guess you don't like it.” she said with a cute pout.

“Seulie, I know what you're doing,” you say as she grinds on you.

“Oh and what is that?” she asks feigning innocence.

“Seulie we have planning this dinner for 2 months. We have all of tomorrow and the day after to ruin each other plus after dinner.” You say to your girlfriend who smiles at you like a starved wolf

“But babe I have been on tour for a month and I haven't touched or tasted you. Surely I can at least have an appetizer.” Hasuel says as she grabs your hand and puts it in her pants parallel to her core. You can feel how soaked she is.

“Seulie what gotten into you? You are never this aggressive,” you ask

"Well, I miss my Rockstar boyfriend's touch," Haseul says matter of fact.

You sigh and lift the tiny short-haired woman off of you. As you stand up she wraps a leg around you and kisses you. her aggression in the kiss is palpable as she forces your mouth open with her tongue and sucks on it stealing your breath. when she breaks the kiss a string of saliva is the only remnant of your two connected lips. She licks her lips as she sees you panting, and for a moment you break and return her kiss. Haseul mewls into this kiss getting some relief from the need raging in her body. As the two of you fall deeper and deeper into each other you slip your hand under her shirt and give her left tit a nice squeeze eliciting an enticing moan from your lovely girlfriend.

she begins to undo your belt when your belt and your alarm goes off bringing you back to reality.

"Seulie, we can't do this right now," you say. Hasuel sighs exaggeratedly.

"Fine" she huffs as the two of you get ready. Unsurprisingly you are ready first. being a guy does that occasionally. As you wait for your girlfriend you scroll through Instagram and visit the ARTMS page I scrolled through really bored until I bounced to my Seulie's page where I saw their most recent video and I was shocked to usually see my happy noona twerking with such a seductive gaze. before I could process what happened. She looked amazing as always but your mind was clouded by visions of her riding you. The two of you manage somehow to push the salacious thoughts aside long enough to get to the restaurant a new steak place that had opened up near your shared apartment. Before either of you could order Hasuel made her first power move as you felt her foot move to your crotch. You eyed your girlfriend whose innocent look was doing well to confuse you

“What's wrong viagra?” Hasuel asks

“Seulie…” you start before Hasuel cuts you off

“No tonight I am mommy and mommy wants her good boy nice and ready for when we get home.” to illustrate her point she begins stroking your clothes cock with her bare foot. You groan quietly as she continues to stroke you. Just as you reach the edge she stops and begins talking to the waitress who was walking to the two of you. “Be a good boy.” Hasuel chimes in as the waitress approaches.

You both order; Hasuel gets a tomahawk and you get the house special called a Sterlington which happened to be the name of the restaurant itself. The whole time you order Hasuel is rubbing your cock with the pad of her foot. She smiles innocently as her adroit feet mercilessly slide up and down your cock. When the waitress leaves you look at her and say “Bathroom now” Haseul smiles wickedly.

When you both arrive in the shared bathroom Hasuel is shocked when you get on your knees and begin to hike up her dress as you prepare to eat her out. She barely has time to process when your tongue begins to dip into her folds. She moans and says “Oh god keep going.” you continue your fevered attack zigzagging from her labia and clit back to inside, and just when you felt her near the edge you stopped.

You got up let her dress back down and said our food should be ready. Hasuel fumed at you as you got cleaned up and walked back outside to the restaurant and surprise, you bumped into the waitress who was carrying your food. You smile at Hasuel who is glaring at you in that sexy annoyed you love. The two of you sat down for a chaste and cute little meal.

"I can't believe it's been 2 years already," you say to Haseul

Haseul smiles and says "I know right? It's crazy. To think we met in that Air BnB and now here we are."

"Yeah. I am a drummer for a metalcore group and you are a thriving soloist and piece of ARTMS," you say to your girlfriend. She smiles at you in a way that melts your heart. you reach out your hand and take hers. you kiss her hand and she coos before saying

"Oh such a gentleman." as she speaks she takes a bite of your steak. Her eyes widen. "Oh this is so good," she says as she takes another. She smiles at you teasingly. You counterattack by taking a bit of her food to her surprise. "Oh so naughty," she says with a wicked smile.

After dinner the two of you arrive back home safely and get ready for bed.

"So Seulie...What do you want to do tomorrow?" you ask her response is powerful and poignant.

"This!" she says before grabbing you and bringing you in for a heated make-out sesh. it's moments before you are hard again. which only adds fuel to Haseul's fire. "Take your pants off. She instructs. You oblige happily now not concerned with schedules of any sort. Haseul greedily drinks you in as she watches you strip. she pushes you to the bed and begins to stroke your cock before giving it a few exploratory licks. you groan. her teasing earlier now catching up with you as you leak copious amounts of precum. “Okay you're more than ready,” she says as she steps away to take off her dress.

You watch hungrily as she begins to strip. “Gosh, you're so hot,” you say to her Hasuel smiles

“You've been a naughty boy for mommy tonight so mommy is going to punish you.” Hasuel States. Your cock twitches at her words. Her voice oozes with sexual frustration and seduction “I'm going to fuck you till I can't cum anymore.” Hasuel adds before tearing off her panties and bra and pinning you down.

To say her pussy was inviting and welcoming would be incorrect. Her pussy squeezes you harder than your shared first time. If you didn't completely love and trust her you'd think she was attempting to rip off your dick, but it excited you the wild look in her eyes. She was always so loving doting, and nurturing so to see this side of your noona awaken was hot and alluring. She begins to ride you and you moan out her name. Hasuel watches and feels you writhe under her. She needs you now. So she guides your lips to her and begins another make-out her tongue is almost down your throat stealing oxygen from you as she fervently continues her ride. When she breaks it long enough so you don't pass out as she notices your cheeks are turning blue she asks “Did you see mommy’s video?” you nod Hasuel smiles as she rides you even harder when she feels your grow harder in her. Due to extensive training and excellent body compatibility you both cum at the same time. The orgasm you both share is nearly blinding. While Hasuel sits on top of you she smiles and begins to ride again. Your body reacts violently by pushing her off and plunging back into her as she lies on all fours. Hasuel smiled at you as you smack her ass as you pound into her. She wanted you feral and now she's got it. So you pound deeper and deeper into her your body responding to her moans

“More! More!” she screams and you oblige trying not to lose all control of yourself but Hasuel wants you to use her body like a toy. She wants you to be rough, so she Spurs you on

“Fuck your mommy harder, harder,” she screams, and so you do. You watch as her ass ripples from each thrust and her sopping pussy drips the mixture of both your fluids. She looks back at you with a smirk and both of cum again. You groan as she gets off you. Overstimulated you walk to the bedroom door to get a drink, but Hasuel has other plans. She drags you back to bed and begins to ride you again

“Ah, Hasuel fuck stop.” you plead but her eyes are glazed over with desire. You get hard quickly enough but your body is not happy with the arrangement. As pain and pleasure mix in your body and mind Hasuel rides you

“I said I'd fuck you till I couldn't cum anymore,” Hasuel said entranced as she continued to rise you mercilessly. You groan and writhe under her touch as you both cum again and again and again. By the time Hasuel finally passes out. You are truly spent, and sore. So as you lay there with your girlfriend you smile at her peaceful sleeping face. You kiss her cheek and hug her tight before joining her in dreamland. You are woken up by intense pressure on your crotch and see Hasuel deep-throating you. You groan as you are still sore from yesterday.

“Cho Hasuel please stop.” you plead and she does. She knows you never use her full name unless it is serious. She releases you and pouts

“What's wrong?”

“Minus the fact I still haven't recovered from yesterday, I haven't even given you your gift. Hasuel releases your cock as you lip to her gift. She smiles watching you struggle. When you get back she laughs and says

“I guess I did a number on you.” you nod and hand her the anniversary necklace. She opens the box and her eyes widen before saying. “Oh my gosh it's so lovely.” you smile and respond

“Anytime.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Omg, we need a emma d'arcy x fem reader! Pleaseee!!!

Let me help you here

Emma D'arcy x fem!reader

warning : fluff, flirting, comfort, nicknames, no use of Y/n, i really hope emma is not too ooc, i hope all pronouns are right

Summary : The latest season of House of the Dragon is about to start and final filming is underway. Emma as the Queen Rhaenyra finds themself in a quiet scene with a fellow actor and the two need some help from each other getting dressed…professionally of course.

info : normally i don't write for actors but i feel comfortable with it so i hope you like it anon and emma looks like the queen herself too. have fun reading ;)

ps : I love the gif not only a queen but Ewan in the background so sweet

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The acting group needed for the scene had already gathered at the slightly unfinished set. The lights over there were sometimes bright, sometimes dark, with a wide variety of flares and lanterns, some lit with real flames, of course, and some with no real light.

The sets, as you all knew, served mainly as backgrounds for the actors and for the special effects specialists as the big screen which, in addition to the scenery and the actors and props, brought them all to life, giving them that fantasy look.

The large set the hall of Dragonstone went almost to the ceiling thick walls some with steel thickness some finely crafted with foam served as a set. It was really impressive to see how they did it all thought the young actress and let her gaze wander only briefly knowing that the camera was still on her co-worker Matt who was discussing the war plans as Daemon as he had learned.

Especially in the final edit when they had all watched the greasy series together, it was really nice to be back. The camera on the table moved around it again from Matt to her as Daemon looked at the Nachirhct's delivery. ,,Be assured the sea route is supported by Lord Manderly. This also goes out to your ships Lord Corlys your safety is our concern" she said her sentence as scripted letting her eyes wander over the sea route and nodded to Matt and Steve in their roles as Daemond and Corlys who also gave her a nod and thanks before the camera panned back.

It was a few lines she had played a newsbringer a high lady from the lake house as she had done a little research on the internet and even read a little blood and fire. A really good book.

But then she knew her cue when it became quiet at the table and the guards could be heard announcing in loud voices on the set that a queen was arriving. Instead of the short hair, Emma's head was adorned with a long, light-colored wig, which made their face slightly pale, but the expression Simply incredible she thought and looked at the older one who Matt then placed next to her around the table.

There was silence as everyone looked at the Queen, who looked at the card with a broken look of hatred and after another shaky breath gave a determined ,,I will…Aemond Targaryen" everyone lingered like that for a moment before there was a loud ,,Cut!" and a clap was heard and everyone fell out of their roles. Immediately there was talk and laughter, and everyone was curious to see what the scene would look like, ,,What a cute curtsy my lady," she heard Emma say as they came over to her and mimicked the movement, making them both smile.

,,So much training," the younger one mumbled, pretending to strain before D'arcy took the younger one's arm and pulled her along, ,,Nice to see you having fun and everyone going so well," the taller one began, giving her an assuring look.

It was only a small role and she had been in a few smaller TV series here and there, but it was still something completely different, it was really exciting to be around movie legends and such good actors.

A possibility she really appreciated…and maybe she appreciated Emma even more. The English actor was really impressive, even though they only played a few roles, but the expression, the voice and just everything about D'arcy was engaging and so captivating.

,,Everyone take a break, later we might do a post-production but until then you can get out of your costumes!" they heard the head of the costume department say and most of the actors went straight to the dressing rooms and Emma to the caravans.

This time, however, the younger one, who was only a supporting role, was about to say goodbye when the older one took her hand again and pulled her along. ,,I promised you I'd have a Negroni Sbagliato with you, come on, sweetie," they said and before she knew it they were actually in the actor's cozy caravan. Yes, they had made that promise after they realized on the first day they had met that they had not only gone back to the same acting school but had also run into each other more often than they wanted to.

From auditions, to plays and in real life it was almost romance ripe. ,,So with Orange without?" they asked, still standing at the small bar in their full outfits, which made the younger ones smile, ,,As the Queen takes him, so do I," she demanded with a look that went over the actor's body. The dress and the coat and the hair it was so impressive to see how versatile Emma could be.

But she had noticed the younger girl's stare, not just the little smirk on her lips, but when she turned to her and put the drink in her hand, their fingers deliberately touched and Emma let them touch. There seemed to be something between the two of them.

She had often invited Emma to her small but pleasant apartment and they had spent the evenings doing all sorts of things. In return, Emma sometimes invited her to extraordinary restaurants or something, it was like a friendship, even if some of the looks went deeper.

The two of them talked for a while about the costumes and the stunts with the "dragons", how exhausting and yet beautiful it was. She had watched D'acry do some of the flying toes and it looked incredible. ,,I'm glad to see you're enjoying it so much…you see I knew it would do you good not to give up now that we're here together," Emma winked and stood up after taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage before turning around and standing with their back to the younger one.

,,I can get the wig off by myself, but would you mind taking off the dress?" the actor asked and the younger girl jumped at the sight of a slightly rapid heartbeat, slightly sweaty palms and suddenly the alcohol was pounding much harder than usual. ,,Gladly for you-I mean, of course I'll help," she mumbled, stammering, and slowly began to help the taller girl out of her jacket, the smell of Chinoto Dark's citrusy, smoky scent enveloping her now that it had settled on her skin.

She liked the scent strong and yet slightly sweet because of the hint of lemon it was really something nice. ,,All good sweetie?" came the voice of the older one who turned slightly and looked at the younger one who was still holding the jacket in her hand ,,Yes-yes all good" she shrugged and felt the warmth on her cheeks.

Pull yourself together, you're not a schoolgirl anymore, she admonished herself and put the coat away before tying the dress, but she heard the slight smirk and Emma's words, ,,Don't be nervous, you're just undressing the queen," Emma joked, giving her a wink. A wink that only made the younger girl's heart beat faster.

Maybe it was Emma's intention, maybe it was the actor's style, or maybe it was just for fun. Who knew, but as her fingers tightened on the laces, the taller actress held still and let her friend do her thing, stepping out of the dress before reaching for a robe.

The back was nicely defined by the light muscles, not just for acting, the underwear a quick glance and her cheeks almost got hotter. ,,You were a grateful help, sweetie," Emma said, standing in front of the younger girl, they towered over her with their height in addition to the boots.

Her wispy dark blonde hair was slightly tousled and she had to resist tousling it and greenish eyes were looking at her. But then suddenly D'acry reached for her hand and brought it to her lips, placed a grateful kiss on it and seemed about to continue. The moment deepened and the younger girl clung to the fabric of the robe, fearful of falling over in devotion, when a ringing from her cell phone threw her off balance.

,,Fuck," she muttered with a determined look and Emma just smiled again. She picked it up, ,,I'm um what-yes of course-yes I'm on my way," she mumbled as the voice of the debriefing leader at the other end called for her to go over the script again when a few changes were made.

Sighing, she gathered her things and had forgotten all about the actor when Emma held her lightly again, ,,I'll wait here honey," Emma winked and gave one last kiss on the hand before she let the younger actor out of the caravan with an embarrassed look, knowing that something was finally going to happen, just a dance of the actors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~