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kurooh · 4 months ago

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I’MA MAKE U SCREAM ★ S. GOJO & S. GETO

⊹₊˚. a series of unrelenting, mysterious phone calls late at night leads to you being sandwiched between two hot ghostface slashers who’ve got you fucking for your life.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, ghostface! gojo & geto, threesome, knife play, landline phones, mentions of death, oral (f receiving), double penetration, anal/fingering, tongue piercings, pussy slapping, biting. 5.2K words whew (pls read anyway 🧎‍♀️)

xoxo, juno. happy halloween!! thank you to my dearest wolfy anon for beta reading <33 comment & rb if you enjoyed!!! 🎃

“hello?”

“why don’t you wanna talk with me?”

“who is this?” you roll your eyes, unimpressed by the cheery voice coming through the phone. “it’s like eleven at night, what do you want?”

“ya tell me your name, and i’ll tell ya mine,” that voice lilts into a teasing tone, words dripping with persuasive sweetness.

“nah, i’m heading to bed. nice talk.”

“aw, bedtime already? you’re not even gonna watch a movie before you sleep?” the question has your brows furrowing in aggravation, but you sigh, choosing to answer anyway.

“i didn’t have anything in mind,” the caller lets out a laugh, straight into your ear. “what, you’ve got a suggestion?”

“do you like scary movies?” and you can hear the smile in the caller’s voice; he’s amused, probably laughing with his friends over the prank call in the moments of muffled silence.

“i suppose so.”

“don’t you have a favorite? why not watch it?”

“well, i won’t be able to sleep,” you reply simply, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “but the longer we talk, the more sleep i lose out on. so, have a good night!”

“wait!” the caller snaps, demanding as ever. the sudden outburst sends chills straight down your spine. “don’t hang up on me.”

“and why shouldn’t i?” the blatant defiance has the caller letting out a laugh that sounds rather menacing . . he clears his throat, seemingly returning to his more even tempered tone.

“we’re not done talking,” he says simply, sounding a little crackly through the phone. “so don’t hang up, you’ll—”

a rational person with an interest in talking would certainly call during the day, and only once or twice before quitting altogether to wait for a call back. an irrational person would have your house phones ringing off the hooks while you were in the shower, calling nonstop and then getting far too arrogant once you finally picked up. just as you slam the phone back down, it starts to ring again.

you decide to leave the room, figuring that the caller will tire himself out quickly, but he doesn’t. in the time that you left the phone to go to another room, there wasn’t a single beat of silence. furious, you race toward the phone, fingers sliding on the kitchen counter as you snatch it up.

“fuck you! listen to me, you’d better stop—”

“no, you listen to me,” the caller snarls, and the harshness of his voice has your heart kicking hard against your rib cage. something in your gut tells you that this isn’t just a talkative caller. “don’t fucking hang up on me again, got that?”

you recover some of your composure, goosebumps rising on your skin. the cool breeze blowing through a nearby window adds to the chilling feeling that’s washed over you in only a matter of seconds. “w-well, what do you want, then?”

“i wanna see your insides, dummy,” is the crazed response, and you can’t stop the way your face immediately twists in horror. a clicking sound is heard as the second phone in your house—the one upstairs—is picked up, and another person hops onto the call.

“now, now,” this new voice is smooth, immediately drawing your attention as you listen attentively through the phone. “that’s no way to talk, you’ll scare her silly.”

“what the fuck?” you ask aloud, although you hadn’t meant to. all you can think about is the fact that two weirdos have you almost . . cornered on the phone.

the crazy voice scoffs, ignoring your mumbling. “well, you heard her! trying to hang up and shit,” he clicks his tongue in disapproval before sighing. “anyway, where were we?”

you don’t even say anything, and the other voice exhales into the phone. “see, look at what you’ve gone and done now. our girl’s too scared to talk to us, isn’t she?”

“look, i-i’m just gonna go to bed. goodnight.”

“you’re not going anywhere, honey,” the calmer one of the two says, but this time his voice is much clearer, almost as if he’s standing beside you. you take a step backward, trying to shake off the weird feelings and relentless goosebumps spreading across your skin.

you might as well be wearing nothing.

the satin slip dress you were planning to sleep in is as thin as plastic wrap; you’ve backed up into someone’s strong chest and thanks to the thinness of your pajamas, you can feel each sharp ridge of muscle. the pecs are strong, firm to the touch, and the abs are hard enough to cut diamonds. fear races through your body, so overwhelming that your lips part to let out a scream—but the noise is muffled by a large palm that pulls you back, flush against the muscles. separated only by a few layers of clothing, you can feel the warmth of their body and the casual rise of their chest as they breathe. if you weren’t being silenced, this would be comforting, in a way.

“promise you won’t scream, baby?” that calm voice has a dangerous edge; you nod immediately, frantically, desperately — as you feel a few tears gather in your eyes. this . . does not look, feel, or sound good in any way imaginable. who even are these people? and why you? a seemingly normal thursday evening had gone entirely downhill, and you didn’t even know why.

“good girl,” the person hums, dropping their hand from the lower half of your face and instead replacing it with the sharp edge of a knife. “let’s head upstairs, shall we?” as you ascend the steps, the blade drops lower, until it hovers over the tender skin of your throat. you can’t even turn around and see who the person is, for fear of getting cut over the simple action.

“could i at least turn around?”

“what for?” he asks, nudging the bedroom door open. you’re met with the frightening sight of a person in robes lounging on your bed, against your pillows. they have a spooky, ghostly mask, but you know who it is the second their mouth opens.

“you took the knives out that quickly?” the figure clicks his tongue, raising a hand to his face to pull off the ghostface mask. so this is what this is—some kind of ridiculous scream roleplay . . but the feel of the knife and the way it gleams is too real. “what happened to playing around, suguru?”

“it’s—it’s you! from the phone.” you say, straining against the man behind you, who pulls the knife a few inches away from your throat.

“careful now, doll. you’ll hurt yourself.”

“if you let me go, maybe i’d—” the man on the bed sits up then, pulling off his mask. you can’t see who he is just yet, the shadow from his hood obscuring his face. in a moment, he grabs hold of your face with a gloved hand, fingers squeezing cruelly at your cheeks.

it’s utterly nasty, the way feelings of attraction twist in your stomach. heat rises to your cheeks and you swallow, looking into diamond blue eyes that have your heart fluttering despicably. how is it possible to even be focused on your grim reaper’s looks, almost entirely forgetting their intentions as you lose yourself in those eyes?

“cat got your tongue? i said i wanna see your insides and you didn’t even look fazed.”

beneath the robe, you can see the tips of snowy hair, along with a face that’s far too handsome to belong to some kind of murderer. you shake your head in disbelief, sucking in a breath. “uh . . huh? sorry, i didn’t hear you.”

he drops your face with an annoyed scoff, stepping back to plop down on your bed before fully pulling off his hood. “y’know what—suguru, you deal with her.”

the man behind you pushes you forward, and you awkwardly take a seat beside the sighing killer. suguru tugs off his mask and inspects the knife closely, running a gloved finger over the edge before nodding. “might as well use the knives on you. maybe you’ll hear us then?”

“what’re you—why’re you doing all this?” you ask, the words sputtering out of your mouth nervously. “is there any way i can convince you not to cut me open?”

suguru looks at his literal partner in crime, pushing his black bangs away from his eyes as he speaks. “oh? trying to cheat death, sweet thing?”

you shrug, casually flopping onto your back. the satiny fabric of your dress flips up, and you unintentionally give both of them a great view of your panties. now that they’re deliberating how to move forward with you, the fear of the situation has dissipated greatly. “i just wanna go to bed and live to see another day tomorrow. name the price for my life and i’ll pay it.”

“those are fighting words,” suguru remarks, “don’t you agree, satoru?”

satoru nods, eyes glued to the thin fabric covering what’s between your legs. his mind runs wild as he imagines what he and suguru could impose on you. they’re practically in sync—suguru looks over just as satoru looks up, the two of them sharing a knowing look.

“hmph. sit up and listen.” satoru nudges your thigh, and you do as he says, looking bored. the whole night has done one too many 180s, giving you the most severe case of whiplash in your life. you’d initially been annoyed, terrified, then mildly attracted, and now . . almost indifferent.

“you’ve got my full attention.”

“we’ll let you live, on one condition,” satoru raises a finger before you can object, while suguru’s eyes covertly sweep over your body. “think you could handle us at the same time?”

a proposition for a threesome is something you certainly did not see coming! you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to maintain composure. suguru spices it up with a smirk, dragging that sharp knife of his along the edge of your jaw.

“you’ll have to fuck like your life depends on it.”

it does. tension weighs the air down, filling the room with a thickness even suguru’s knife couldn’t cut through. sweat beads along the skin of your spine and you exhale in defeat. being between these two would be hard—in all ways possible; but one mistake and they’d probably end up slitting your throat.

truthfully, you’re willing to risk it. most girls don’t usually cross paths with two men that are each extremely attractive and willing to share you between one another. you squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“y-yeah, okay. i’ll do it.”

“atta girl,” satoru praises, the corners of his eyes crinkling. a wicked smile finds its way onto his rosy lips, but you don’t back down, instead spreading your legs. you look between them, a silent invitation extended in one glance.

“lie back for us.”

“you were the one who told me to sit up—” perhaps the unnecessary snark isn’t a good idea, not with the way suguru eyes you warily.

satoru leans in hastily, connecting his lips with yours to effectively shut you up. his body barrels into yours, pushing you into suguru, who catches you and cages you against his strong chest. the knife is abandoned as he strokes his fingertips along the tender skin of your neck, sighing into your ear while satoru occupies your lips.

“so pretty. heh, you’re pretty every night.”

suguru’s touch has you letting out a moan that satoru eagerly swallows, his gloved hands roaming your body. however, he seems to remember he’s got gloves on; without pulling away, he snatches them off.

“her tits, suguru—play with her tits.”

the mumbled words are audible only to suguru, who complies with a chuckle. unlike satoru, he makes no move to do away with his gloves. you moan, his hands squeezing at your tits while his fingertips stroke over your nipples until they grow hard.

“s-suguru,” you mewl, pulling away for a moment to suck a breath into your deprived lungs, “keep touching me there—just like that.”

satoru’s palm comes down hard against the side of your thigh, and he grips your face, forcing you to look at him. “focus on me, got that? wouldn’t want him to stop, would you?”

you shake your head, and in a split second, satoru’s got your upper lip between his teeth. he bites down playfully; the impact makes you gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. arousal pools in your panties, and you fidget in your spot between them, hoping that you’ll finally get the attention you’ve been craving sooner rather than later. suguru’s tongue drags against your neck while he takes in the scent of your body wash from earlier’s shower. there’s a cool sensation coming from the center of his tongue—you can feel a firm ball of some kind.

it’s a little shameful, getting this hot and heavy from a simple kiss. only, his tongue rolls against yours, and any semblance of embarrassment melts away. suguru’s fingers pinch both of your nipples at the same time, sending shockwaves right to your pussy.

“fuck,” you sob into satoru’s mouth, practically lightheaded from how overwhelming it already is, as well as the lack of air. “i-i need more.”

suguru hums, continuing to toy with your hardened nipples. “already slutting yourself out for us, sweetheart? that was fast, wasn’t it?”

satoru finally draws back, a glossy string of spit connecting your lips to his. he doesn’t move just yet, savoring the moment like a piece of special candy—you’ve practically got hearts in your eyes, all hot and bothered because of him. well, suguru is a factor, but he didn’t put in nearly as much work as satoru.

“lie back for us, babe.” this time you don’t fight them on it, scooting off suguru so you can comfortably prop yourself up on the mountain of pillows.

“tsk. this dress ought to go.” suguru brandishes his knife, and cuts through the satin material of the slip as easily as a stick of butter.

“hey!” you snap, the remains of your dress sliding off to the sides of the bed like rags. “what about you two!? you can’t just cut up my clothes like that when neither of you are naked!”

satoru rolls his eyes, tossing your legs apart. meanwhile, suguru clearly isn’t done with that knife; he trails it along the slopes of your naked body, the edge of the blade sharpened in a way that has you gasping. he applies a little bit of pressure, and your skin splits like it would after a paper cut.

“a-are you cutting my skin open?” you ask incredulously. you know the answer, but for whatever reason, you don’t pull away from him.

“maybe,” he replies breezily. “‘s nothing deep. you can handle it, can’t you, honey?”

“would you look at that?” satoru wolf whistles, and heat rises to your cheeks as he gathers your legs together, tugging them up. the knife pauses at your collarbone as suguru leans backwards to take a look, and his eyebrows raise immediately.

“she’s fucking soaked.”

“put the knife down ‘n come give it a taste.”

satoru’s request is breathless, but effective. the knife falls onto the blankets, and for a moment you use your head to consider what might happen in the future—someone could sit on that thing, lie down on it. satoru’s tongue rips the thought out of your head and replaces the words that were on the tip of your tongue with a sweet moan of bliss. your clit throbs at the prospect of more, and their balmy puffs of breath fanning over you only arouse you further.

their faces press together, side by side as they start to eat your pussy in a way that immediately has your back arching and hips bucking. satoru focuses all his attention on your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue over it while suguru slurps up all of your slick. there it is again, that cool sensation—he’s got a tongue piercing. the moonlight shines through the flowy curtains, illuminating the killers in an almost angelic glow . . maybe they’re actually pussy killers.

“‘s like fucking candy,” satoru moans, tongue dipping down to gather up your slick. it bumps into suguru’s, and he only lets out a laugh that sends vibrations through your entire core. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted, shit.”

the room fills with the lewd, nasty sounds of their slurping and licking as they devour your pussy together. you slip a finger between your teeth and bite down once one too many noises threaten to escape you, and suguru pulls back to land a smarting slap on your pussy.

“ah ah. do not try to go quiet on us.”

“sorry, ‘m sorry,” you stutter dumbly, mind and body reeling from the delicious sting of the slap.

“we want you screaming,” he emphasizes, spitting onto your cunt and watching as it flutters, the glob slipping down more rapidly due to the movement. “and you will be, by the end of all this. understand, doll?”

you nod hastily, and his eyes flick upwards to your face, the hardness in them a simple warning. “yeah, i understand.”

satoru’s drawing hearts and letters on your clit, each one making you shudder more than the last. each drag of his tongue makes him moan as he takes in more of your taste. beside him, suguru’s dips his tongue between your folds, the sensation nothing more than a tease. they plan to split you open on their cocks, and getting you desperate for it is only the first step of their plan.

“ngh, t-that’s so fucking good,” you cry, thighs quaking on either side of their heads. “please, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to us,” satoru is the first to speak, his voice clear as it cuts through the lewd sounds in the air. he’s got one hand on the side of your thigh, holding you open just for them. “on our tongues, like a good girl.”

satoru’s ministrations on your clit grow more insistent; he’s working to pull your orgasm from you, while suguru continues to slurp at your messy pussy, his eyes falling shut. a familiar and overwhelming sensation coils in your tummy; it’s one that has your hands flying to both suguru and satoru’s heads, fingers finding purchase in their hair.

“i—i think ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, back arching off the bed while your hips jolt forward into their faces. after hearing the first word of your delirious warning, satoru replaced his tongue with his finger and moved beside suguru, the two of them slurping all your cunt has to offer. to them, it’s like drinking ambrosia.

you’re pulling hard at their hair, only encouraging them to groan against you. suguru speaks, eyes rolling back from just a little hair pulling. but it makes sense, with hair like that. of course his scalp is very sensitive.

“cover us in your cum, baby.”

obedient and right on time, your pussy gushes, hole fluttering around nothing while your clit throbs beneath satoru’s finger. the intense orgasm has left you twitching from the aftershocks, gasping for breath, and overly sensitive. of course, satoru and suguru take advantage of the aforementioned sensitivity with smirks on their faces.

“no, wait, i-i just came,” is all you can sob, your hands smacked away once you try to tug them off your aching cunt. “satoruuu, suguruuu.”

suguru only laughs, mimicking your tone with a roll of his eyes. “aw, babyyy. that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

with how sensitive you are, it’s not hard for them to drag a second orgasm out of you. this time, a few tears cascade down your cheeks as you fall over the edge with a pitched cry. satoru spanks your still twitching cunt and laughs at the way you gasp and recoil, legs still trembling.

“suguru, whatcha think? you wanna take her mouth ‘n i’ll fuck her pussy?”

“that’s far too considerate, satoru.” he shakes his head, talking about you as if you’re not in front of them. “c’mon,” suguru purrs, gesturing for you to get up as he slips off his robe and boxers. “lie on top of me.”

you can’t help but ogle, a little starstruck by his body and the thrill of everything. he sticks out his tongue playfully when he notices you staring, the metal ball in his tongue gleaming. his abs flex and his cock bobs as he lays down on your bed, beckoning you over with a gloved finger. satoru gulps, panting softly at the sight. following his best friend’s lead, he slips off his matching clothing and mounts the bed, which sinks under his weight with a creak. part of you wonders if the bed frame will give out by the end of this.

“hand me the lube,” suguru grunts, catching the small bottle in his larger hand. the liquid is cool, even through the leather of his gloves. he rubs his fingers together to warm it up a little for you. his fingertips prod at the tight ring of your asshole, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

“c’mon. relax for me, doll.”

you take a breath, body sweltering with arousal. this is certainly new for you, but you don’t complain—and anyway, the slight coolness of the lube feels good against your hot skin. satoru bites down on his lower lip as he watches his best friend prep you to take both of their cocks at the same time. something wicked has the corners of his lips curling up into a smile as he pictures you screaming for them.

likely picturing the same thing, suguru tongues at your jaw, kissing the tender skin wetly before nipping hard. you can only cry out, his lips serving as a simple distraction while his fingers push inside and stretch you out.

you gasp, and he feels you squeeze down hard on his fingers, hips jerking away. “come now, don’t run from it,” suguru coos, twisting his body beneath you to angle you the right way again. he ignores your whining, and satoru silently strokes his cock to the sight. “i know, i know. just breathe for me, ‘kay?”

slowly, your body accommodates the new stretch without any more sting or discomfort. in fact, your hips begin to rock into his fingers, chasing them when he starts to pull out.

“i-i think she’s ready, suguru,” satoru finally speaks up, clearing his throat. his voice is a little choked, and you can clearly see the flush on his cheeks even in the dark. “for both of us.”

“you hear that, honey?” his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear, making you shudder against him. “let’s see who can make you scream the loudest—me or satoru.”

“as if,” the man in question huffs, pushing your thigh to the side and looking over your dripping pussy with an obvious hunger. “fuck, baby. i’m gonna ruin you.”

with that, satoru grasps his cock and guides it inside your needy cunt. suguru does the same, pushing his length into your ass. the three of you moan collectively, a harmony if ever there was one. you sob, tears burning at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the stretch.

satoru grits his teeth and grips your hips for support, then pushes all the way inside you. he bottoms out easily, his cock sliding against suguru’s, separated only by a thin layer of tissue. so thin that they can feel the shape of one another’s cocks through you.

“fuckin’—shittt, oh my god,” satoru’s easily overwhelmed, heart pounding in his ears while sweat covers his entire body in a sticky sheen.

suguru bites your neck hard, but the pain registers as pleasure despite the fact that he tastes a few irony drops of blood on his tongue.

“do either of you plan to move?” you complain, lips parting in an ‘o’ shape around a whiny moan. “or are we just gonna sit here—”

“shut the fuck up,” suguru groans, clapping a dry and gloved hand over your tits before squeezing them. “we’ll move when we fucking feel like it.”

waves of almost euphoria wash over your entire body, leaving you breathless and panting. when you’d first met these two, you’d been sharp and aware of your surroundings, but now everything is hazy and your body burns as though you have a fever.

the bed creaks dangerously as satoru jumps into action, slowly rocking his hips into yours with a few choked, wanton moans. before long, he’s more confident, fucking into you with a tight grip on your skin and at an invigorated pace. you’re so hot and oh so tight—satoru fucking loves it—you feel perfect. he loves the way you squirm on top of his best friend, hips canting forward eagerly to meet his. the evidence of how good he’s making you feel is painted all over your face, apparent in the wobble of your lower lip and the tears in your eyes.

you hear a sigh from behind you. “can’t lose the bet,” suguru’s voice is laced with faux sympathy. it takes him a few seconds, but he finally starts moving, groaning in approval at the shake of your body and gasping, ragged breaths.

above you, sweat rolls down satoru’s face, the snowy tips of his hair sticking to his forehead while others fall in front of his eyes. “y-you like it like this, baby?” the question is rhetorical, but your whimpering tells him everything he needs to know. the corners of his lips curl into a smile that’s soon wiped away by overwhelming pleasure. “you’re taking us so fuckin’ well, sweetheart . . driving me insane, goddamn.”

“i second that,” the metal ball of suguru’s piercing clicks as he sweeps his tongue over his teeth, panting hard into your ear. “really, baby . . feel like the luckiest fuckin’ guy in the world right now, heh.”

as if you’re not the luckiest girl—being sandwiched between these two is a dream you didn’t even know you had. inside you, their cocks throb against one another, dragging in and out of your holes ruthlessly. the tempo only speeds up, becoming too much too quickly.

you nudge a weak, clammy hand against satoru’s waist, arching your back on top of suguru and nearly nailing him in the face with a reverse headbutt. before the latter can say anything, satoru snatches your hand and intertwines your fingers with his, then pins it down to the bed. he advances forward, his chest now against yours to keep you still.

“ah ah,” he tuts, his nipples hard as they press against yours, “move your damn hand, baby. this is what you wanted, remember?”

“i certainly do,” suguru titters, nipping at your earlobe. “don’t be like that. you can take it, can’t you?”

his words are convincing; he’s got you nodding in acceptance. he’s right, of course. this is what you wanted earlier—you’ve been taking both of their cocks so fucking well. just as you tell yourself you’ll make it through this, satoru’s fingers ghost along the soft skin of your stomach. despite the exhaustion that’s setting into his body, his hips don’t even stutter as he focuses on your swollen clit.

“oh . . oh my god,” the words are torn from your throat, which only grows more sore with all the noise you can’t seem to stop making. a familiar shakiness settles in your voice, and you’re fighting to keep the breath in your lungs, but it escapes you far too easily. “i’m-‘m gonna cum for you, ‘m—”

as you hurtle closer to all encompassing euphoria, the sounds of skin slapping against skin fade out and grow foggy. yet, you manage to hear their voices eagerly spurring you on, the two of them in the same boat as you.

“yeah, ‘s right. fuckin’ cum for us, baby.” satoru’s own orgasm creeps up on him, his head tipping back as your pussy starts to flutter around his cock. of course, suguru can feel the throbbing of his best friend’s cock and the quavering of your needy pussy. he releases your tits, seeing the bruising he’s left before squeezing his eyes shut in concentration.

“ya heard him, honey,” he utters after a long groan, his voice low and husky. “take all of our fucking cum.” you gasp out, nodding your head frantically as you teeter over the edge.

everything happens fast, and all at the same time. satoru cums inside you, his broad shoulders shaking as he rides it out while your pussy practically milks him for more. your cunt spasms, hips jerking upwards from the intensity of it. the movement pushes out suguru, his cum leaking out of your bruised ass and spilling in white puddles on his pelvis.

satoru looks down, biting down on his lower lip as he pulls his cock from you. this is quite the reward, seeing cum pour from both of your spent and twitching holes. your shuddering, sweltering body finally begins to cool after what feels like hours. suguru’s exhausted, but he kindly lifts you and lays you down on the bed beside him. satoru flops down beside you with a heaving sigh, only to lay on the knife from earlier.

“ow, fuck!” he jolts, sitting up and tugging the sharp blade from where it’s tangled in the sheets. he unceremoniously hurls it to the floor, laying back down with a vengeful huff.

you’re too tired to laugh, but a small smile plays on your lips. “do you still wanna kill me?”

“not right now,” suguru throws an arm over his face, gesturing in the direction of the floor. “the knife’s down there, anyway.”

you sit up, craning your neck to take a look. from what you can see, the floor is littered with their dark costumes and two masks, the knife completely out of sight. “i don’t see it.”

“hm, remember we talked about making you scream for us?” satoru speaks up, and in your dizzy haze, you don’t notice that glint in his eyes.

“uh, yeah, i think so? i thought you already did.”

“don’t you watch scary movies?” suguru scoffs, looking at you from beneath his forearm. “you should know what happens next.”

you laugh, rolling your eyes. “yeah, whatever. what happens next, you kill me? very funny. let me convince you again,” and you clear your throat. “no, please don’t kill me, mr. ghostface! i wanna be in the sequel!”

satoru simply shakes his head, and the knife plunges into your back. with a gasp, you sputter out a few garbled words, blood pouring down your bare back as you fall backwards onto the bed. you writhe on the mussed sheets, blood spilling from your lips and trickling down your chin in vermillion rivulets. beside you, the blood covered suguru and satoru let you struggle aimlessly until your body stills; then they slip their masks on again . .

“andddd cut!” the director jumps from his seat with proud claps, and the production assistants rush in from every direction to help clean up the mess.

“satoru, fuck! that knife was so sharp,” you sit up, sending a glare his way as you wipe the fake blood off your skin. despite being a fake knife, the shiny plastic point was rather jagged.

“excellent performances, the three of you! our halloween special is sure to be a hit!” the director is gushing as he praises the three of you.

“yeah, yeah,” suguru says, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “i’ve gotta take a shower. seriously, the corn syrup is so fucking sticky.”

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m-a-d-e-l-e-i-n-e · 1 year ago

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My favorite thing about wearing a mask at work is when every once in a while some random old white person will give me attitude as if it’s gonna change my mind

#last winter I wore a mask every day and never got sick at all but this ‘sick season’ I wasn’t wearing one and got sick TWICE in December #so yeah safe to say I’m keeping that shit back on #I mean ik most people don’t wear one anymore because I guess we’ve just decided that covid doesn’t matter #even though it’s literally getting worse because long covid but hey I’m doing my part #I don’t get anti-maskers though like who tf cares #wearing a mask is literally the bare minimum thing to do but no Americans are so selfish that we won’t even do that #but if having beef with a random cashier who could be your granddaughter makes you feel superior then by all means I guess #they wouldn’t even care if I said I have immuno-compromised family that I wanted to protect soooo #it’s also just nice not getting sick cause it’s like woah it’s almost like… masks work 😦#txt #personal #rants #covid isn’t over #and yes I know masks are for protecting other people not yourself lol idk why I wrote all that

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dollwrites · 18 days ago

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ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｔｙｐｅ ┊ v-day weekend blurbs ( caleb )

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, mirror sex, exhibitionism ( filming ), caleb gets rough, size kink, praise kink, stand-fucking, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊ i stared at caleb doing one handed pushups for like a minute solid and hit a blinker. here’s the result. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Hey, no moving…” you murmur in a pointed, accusatory tone the very moment you feel Caleb’s hips buck forward. your breath caught in your throat as he does; his cock notching another inch into your silken core none-too gently. “I told you to let me do it.” puffing out your lower lip in a childish pout, you cast a glance over your shoulder, peering up at a grinning Caleb, raising both arms, palms out in mock defeat.

you blinked, needing to pause to look over his countenance. sweat-dampened brown tendrils stuck to his forehead and against his temples and the very edges of his cheeks. speaking of his cheeks, there were violet in hue, with diamonds of perspiration glistening against the apples. his jaw slung, swollen lips parted to accommodate his heavy breathing, you could even see the vein on the side of his neck bulge and throb when you clench up, milking his cock in a warm vice.

“What’s the matter? Do I play too rough for your movie?” he challenged with a smile.

“Always,” you reply, squirming on your feet to welcome in his fresh, thick inch. it took some stirring, and a whole lot of primal pleasure as his heavily veined cock rubbed against your sensitive, spongy walls, to find a comfortable enough position for you to keep going. the hand gripping your phone tightens it, and you look back to the mirror, standing less than six feet from it, to ensure the angle was still perfect. you raise the phone just a quarter of an inch higher, and spread your legs wider. “I want it to be… pretty.” you settled on an almost laughable adjective, but it seemed the most fitting, as you glance up at him from the glass. the two of you lock eyes, and you shudder at the eroticism of it all. you were clad in lacy lingerie ( though, however skewed it may be, it still counted ), your makeup done, and you had chosen the best possible setting and position to ensure that you would be able to review the footage while you railed yourself on his cock— looking into the mirror. but, it wasn’t simply for your own vanity, and you remind him of that as you start to move again, pushing your ass back and forth to take the familiar inches. “You know,” you continue, trying to be as casual as possible as you explain, though your sentence is continuously marred by choking gasps and happy moans, “f—for when you’re away in Skyhaven— shhh—shit! — you’ll have something… ahhh… nice to watch…!”

“Sorry, baby girl,” his words were thick and slurred with the ever-so-subtle etching upwards of his mouth in a crooked grin. “Just couldn’t help myself, wanted to get that cute, lil’ yelp outta you. Won’t happen again, promise.” but even as he drew a cross over his heart, you could still see that twinkle of mischief in his eye. one of your brows quirk up, as if to say: i don’t believe you, and Caleb reads it immediately. with a husky chuckle, he shook his head. “Lil’ thing’s so damn suspicious.” however, he still hooked his arms behind his back in submission. widening his own, already imposing stance, you feel like a worm dangling on his hook between the gap he provided. then, he straightened his back, standing at attention. his biceps bulge, the hard and thick muscle pads of his arms dancing beneath his skin as he flexes them, more for you than anything else. it was a silent reminder of his strength— the power he was willingly giving up to you. “There, that better, baby?” he asked, his gaze softening as it roved over your back. the clasp of your bra was still held together, even though the shoulder straps had been discarded, and the weight of your breast spilled out of the loosened cups, swaying hypnotically with every move you make. still, that clasp taunted him, and he had the sudden and wicked urge to lunge forward and unclip it with his teeth rose to the surface of his resolve. he resigned, however, grinding his teeth together as his eyes followed the shape of your spine downward, instead.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised quietly, his brows knit close together. your pace was slow enough to frustrate him beyond measure, a steady rhythm that was a sweetly agonizing form of torture he’d only ever endure for you. “Takin’ my big cock just how you want it,” Caleb let out a low growl. against the small of his back, his fingers twitched and jerked with the desire to grip your hips tight enough to leave their shape imprinted in your skin. he shook away the thought, and clenched his fists tightly. “Fuck yourself on me, baby girl, take whatcha need.. Ah-hah, that tight, little cunny ready for another inch? Because I’m dyin’ to give it to her.” Caleb’s thighs tightened, a dull tingle settling against the base of his spine.

“You’re already so deep,” you whine back, glancing down between your legs. your cunt drooled as you speared yourself on to Caleb, over and over, and you use your free hand to dip between your thighs and scrub at their apex, strumming your swollen clit to the same speed of your riding, mewling in pleasure. “I— I can cum, just like this…” you trail off, your eyeline fluttering back to the phone screen. you could see the contortion of pleasure on your own face, and you had to admit, it was sexy to watch yourself get closer and closer. you had no doubt that Caleb would spend many a lonely night, watching this video over again, gripping his greedy cock and wishing to feel your tight cunt instead.

“Lil’ fucking tease…” he growled into your hair on the crown of your hair. the scent of your shampoo still lingered there, and it made his eyelids flutter. “I need more.”

and just like that, your control of the situation, and of Caleb, dissipated. he sucked in a ragged breath, large hands releasing themselves from their subservient position and grope at your thighs, hooking against the backs of your knees to sweep you off your feet.

“Caleb!” yipping in surprise, your phone slips from your grasp and clatters on the floor between his feet. fortunately, with this new angle, the video captures the visage of you, spread open, and Caleb already rutting like a man possessed into you. his balls, though tight with impending orgasm, are still heavy enough to spank against your clit as he pulls your body down to meet his rabid thrusting. “That’s—!”

with your knees dug into your own chest, your eyes follow the shape of your spread legs, and the mesmerizing, helpless flop of your stocking-clad feet in the air. it felt good, really good, to be fucked so animalistically, to be locked against his powerful body, at the mercy of his whims.

“Just hush up and take it now, baby girl. You’ve had your fun,” Caleb chuckles as he lowers you down to meet the upward pounding, his hips snapping against yours. “— made your cutesy, lil’ video, you got to ride for a lil’ bit, but now you get to just sit pretty and take exactly what I’m gonna give ya.” Caleb pulled you flush to his lap, burying himself balls-deep in your weeping cunt with a happy snarl tearing through his throat. his eyes flick to the mirror, “Look how precious you are, all dolled up, gettin’ ruined, all for me?” your gaze follows his, and your cheeks warm as humility rises within them. he’s right, though. even you couldn’t help but be wooed by your fucked-out state, babbling as he bounces you up and down on his cock. then, Caleb chuckles, a rough and strangled sound in comparison to his usual timbre. his gaze had listed downward, to catch the sight of the camera on the floor, capturing your decimation from a most sordid angle. “Oh, fuck yeah, I’m gonna love watchin’ your puffy, lil’ pussy get stuffed full from this angle.”

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hoshifighting · 4 days ago

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— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.

here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:

you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.

joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.

but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.

which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:

“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”

“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.

“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.

you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.

“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”

which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.

you unlock the door, push it open,

and immediately wish you hadn’t.

seungcheol. on the couch. fisting his cock.

your brain short-circuits. like, full shutdown, blue screen, cease all functioning mode.

the man is spread out—legs wide, head tipped back, theres a drop of sweat that drips from his neck aand land in the middle of his chest. hes exposing his toned abs that clench with every up and down of his hand. and his cock is huge. thick from the base to the top and flushed deep red at the tip, veins prominent as his fist works over it.

he’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even register your presence at first, not until he finally cracks his eyes open and sees you standing there, frozen stunned into silence.

the next few seconds happen in slow motion.

his eyes widen. his entire body stiffens. his hand stops.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

seungcheol scrambles to cover himself, reaching for the nearest thing—which, unfortunately for him, is a shirt that does nothing to hide the absolute tent he’s pitching. his face goes red, splotchy from the neck up, and he looks so flustered that for a split second, you almost feel bad.

“why the fuck are you here?!” he practically barks at you, voice ragged from whatever the fuck he was doing before you ruined his life.

you blink, still processing the image that’s now burned into your brain for eternity. “uh. joshua?”

“what about joshua?!”

“he… he needed a document.”

seungcheol lets out a sound that is so frustrated, so exasperated, that it almost doesn’t register as human. “and you didn’t think to knock?!”

“why would i knock?! i didn’t think anyone would be jerking off in the living room like a fucking pervert—”

“IT’S MY APARTMENT.”

“IT’S JOSHUA’S TOO.”

“HE’S NOT HERE.”

“WELL, NEITHER AM I, NOW.” you turn on your heel, hand reaching for the doorknob. “i’ll just get the doc later—”

but before you can escape, he rasps, “don’t you dare tell joshua about this.”

you pause. smirk. oh, this is fun.

back still facing him, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob. you should leave. should pretend none of this ever happened. but something—some sick, wrong part of you—doesn’t want to.

so you turn. lean back against the door. cross your arms.

“what?” he snaps, shifting on the couch, the shirt still pitifully draped over his lap.

you tilt your head, dragging your gaze slowly down his body—his hard nipples, the taut muscles in his arms, the way his thighs tense like he’s fighting the urge to close them. you can see the way he twitches under the shirt.

“you’re still hard,” you note, your voice syrupy sweet, but your eyes gleam meanly.

seungcheol tenses. “so?”

“so… you’re mad at me for walking in,” you say, cocking a brow, “but you’re still hard as fuck.”

he grits his teeth, but his silence is loud as hell.

so you take a step forward. just one.

his breath hitches.

“cheol.” you coo at him. “you sure you hate me?”

he glares, but it’s weaker now, faltering under your scrutiny. you can see it—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pulse jumps in his throat, the way he’s not telling you to stop.

so you take another step.

and another.

until you’re standing right in front of him, the shirt the only barrier between his cock and your eyes.

his jaw tightens. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” you murmur, reaching forward to trace your fingers over his wrist—the one that was just wrapped around his cock. “don’t call you out? don’t get closer? don’t—”

in a flash, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down.

you gasp as you land on his lap, his hands firm on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin barrier of the shirt and your clothes.

his lips are right by your ear when he growls, “don’t fucking test me.”

you shiver, but you’re not scared, you’re thrilled.

so you shift, pressing back against him, and smirk when he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

“or what?” you whisper.

his grip tightens. “you really wanna find out?”

your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

“yeah,” you breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “i do.”

he snaps.

the shirt under you is gone.

his mouth crashes into yours, hot and angry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing the gasp you let out when his fingers dig into your hips.

you grind down, moaning into his mouth when you feel just how fucking thick he is, leaking against your skirt.

his hands are rough when he yanks your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist with no intention of letting it fall back down. you barely have a second to breathe before his fingers push past your thighs, finding the front of your panties hooking his thumb into the damp fabric and pulling it to the side.

the rush of cold air makes you gasp, thighs trying to snap shut, but his thighs pins them open. and maybe, he has a shred of decency in him, because he lets out a low breath and murmurs, “this is gonna be rough.”

no warning. just that.

you should stop him. you should tell him to go slow, to prep you, to at least spit on it—but you don’t, you need to feel this big cock stretching you until every single thought inside your head gets completely erased.

there’s no lube, no prep besides the mess between your thighs, just the torturous process of sinking down.

seungcheol watches all of it. watches the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter, how your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the lower you go. he’s leaning back against the couch, one hand gripping the plush of your ass, the other wrapped around his base, guiding you onto him like you’re something delicate. like he’s trying to help.

but he’s not.

because he knows what he’s doing when he taps his cockhead against your clit first, dragging the tip through your slick, coaxing out little whimpers that make him smirk. he knows what he’s doing when he presses up, just the tip slipping inside, barely enough to be satisfying but more than enough to make your thighs twitch.

your breath catches in your throat, your whole body twitching up as you take the next inch too fast. your brain is empty, your body is working on instinct, thighs shaking as you brace yourself against him, trying—failing—to push down further.

and he sees it. sees how you’re struggling, sees how your muscles twitch like you’re about to give out, sees how you want to take it but your body is fighting the stretch.

so he helps.

his hands clamp down on your waist.

and then he slams you down.

the sound that leaves your throat is so ruined that he cant help but feel a bit of compassion.

because suddenly you’re full. suddenly you’re sitting completely in his lap, completely engulfed in him, your thighs flush against his, his cock buried so fucking deep that you can feel it pressing up against every nerve inside you.

but when you try to move, try to lift yourself even an inch—nothing.

your thighs won’t cooperate. your muscles won’t listen.

you can’t move.

“oh?” seungcheol tilts his head, smug grin curling at his lips as he grinds up, watching the way your mouth falls open at the sensation.

“too big for you, baby?”

you whimper.

“thought so.”

and then he takes control, because you can’t move—so he does it for you. his hands lift you effortlessly, dragging your hips up before slamming you back down, setting the pace, forcing your body to take what it’s given.

and you can’t think straight anymore. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every time he slams you down it punches little whimpers from your throat that only make him hungrier.

“awww… thought you were so tough. but you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock, huh?”

you cry out, body giving up, melting against his chest as you desperately try to follow his rhythm, hips twitching with little, pathetic attempts to keep up. your body isn’t even yours anymore—just a toy, something for seungcheol to use, something he’s breaking in with every brutal roll of his hips.

his fingers dig into your waist, gripping you so tight it hurts, but the pleasure drowns it out. you’re so deep into it, into him, that every ounce of shame has left your body, every shred of dignity gone. because you can’t do anything but take it, can’t do anything but let him use you like you were made for this.

he tilts his head, watching you fall apart, watching how your thighs tremble with every slap of his hips against yours.

“damn,” he laughs, licking his lips, voice mocking. “you’re making such a fucking mess of yourself.”

you whimper, forehead pressing against his collarbone.

and then he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“mm-mm, don’t hide now,” he says, smirking. “be a good girl and let me see that dumb little face while i ruin you.”

a sob rips from your throat, high-pitched and wrecked.

he groans, grinding up into you.

“fuck. bet the neighbors can hear you, huh? joshua’s gonna be so fucking embarrassed when he gets a noise complaint for his dumb little best friend getting dicked down like a whore.”

your whole body jerks, a whimper escaping your lips at the humiliation, the filth dripping from his tongue.

and he sees it.

his grin turns cruel.

“oh, you like that?” he taunts, thrusting up so deep your back arches. “you like knowing that you’re loud enough to make it everyone’s fucking problem? that you’re such a good little fucktoy for me that i can’t even keep you quiet?”

you nod, because you can’t lie. his fingers tighten around your jaw, his lips brushing against yours as he coos.

“poor little thing.”

he thrusts up again, so hard, so deep that your whole body bounces, hands scrambling against his chest, voice cracking in a choked-out sob.

and he moans, deep and satisfied, because you’re so fucking perfect for him. because your body is his to use, to mold, to ruin.

“joshua’s gonna kill me c-cheol.”

his hips snap up again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“but you’ll tell him it was worth it, won’t you, baby?”

he smooths one over your back, pressing down so your tits rub against his burning skin, while the other stays firm on your hip, keeping you still. your body jerks with every pulse of his cock inside you, twitching as you flutter around him, so overstimulated you can’t tell where the pleasure starts or ends.

“s-seungcheol—” his name is nothing but a broken cry, muffled against his neck, but he’s relentless. he doesn’t even let you finish, just shifts his knees slightly and thrusts up into you with all the power in his core.

“fuck,” he hisses when you clamp down, crying out into his skin, and he wraps an arm fully around you to hold you up. “shh, baby, you’re being so loud.”

his hand snakes up your back, fingers tangling into your hair, forcing you to lift your head. you meet his gaze, and it knocks the breath from your lungs. he looks fucked, mouth parted, sweat dripping from his hairline, chest heaving, but he still manages to look at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“c’mon,” he coos, tilting his head, his grip tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “tell me it was worth it. tell me how good my cock is.”

he punctuates it with a sharp snap of his hips and you keen, trying to lift yourself, trying to relieve some of the intensity, but your thighs betray you. seungcheol laughs, breathless but smug, and his fingers press bruises into your skin as he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing.

“see? can’t even move, huh? my poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, his free hand cupping your cheek now. “you’re just gonna sit here and take it like the perfect fucktoy you are.”

heat prickles at your skin at the words, your brain too fogged up to be embarrassed, too fucked out to do anything but let him guide you. he rocks you against him, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, rubbing at all the right places, pressing into you deeper than you thought was even possible.

“you take me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning in to press his lips against yours, just enough to tease. “so fuckin’ tight, so warm—fucking heaven.”

his hand slides between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over it. the sensation makes your thighs twitch, your nails dig into his back, a fresh wave of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your temple. his fingers on your clit work in time with the slow, torturous grind of his hips. “i got you, yeah? you gonna cum for me? hm?”

he kisses you full on the mouth when you sob, swallowing the sound like he wants to keep it forever. and then he speeds up just a little, rolling your clit with more pressure, meeting every rut of your hips with a firm thrust up.

you shatter.

your whole body seizes, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as you clamp down so tight on him that it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. he groans, long and low, holding you so tight against him that you can feel every pulse of his cum inside you, hot and deep. his hips jerk once, twice more before he stills, forehead pressed against yours as you both gasp for air.

it’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the distant hum of the city outside the window, and the soft squelch when he finally shifts, making you both moan.

your body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind, and seungcheol drinks it in, the heat of your overstimulated form twitching against his chest as he presses slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. his lips move down, sucking at the pulse point that hammers beneath your skin. your breath stutters. his fingers, nails just barely grazing, trail down the arch of your spine, featherlight but enough to make you shiver. you barely even realize you’re moving, the last bit of strength in your boneless limbs used to weakly push yourself up, to let his cock slip free from where it’s buried inside you.

the second it leaves you, your body gives out. you collapse right into his chest, heavier than before, spent and trembling, the exhaustion hitting all at once. you can’t even pretend to be embarrassed about it. you just sigh, your lips brushing the base of his throat as you settle against him, body limp.

seungcheol holds you steady with both hands, like he’s afraid you might melt right into the couch and disappear. his broad palm cradles the back of your head, fingers splaying across your scalp, scratching at your roots. he keeps the other hand wrapped around your waist, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your ribs. the tension in his body hasn’t left yet. his shoulders are still tight. you know him well enough to know what’s coming before he even says it.

“you good?”

you hum in response, nuzzling into his chest as your fingers curl weakly against his pecs. “just a little sore.”

he exhales through his nose. shifts beneath you. you can feel his fingers flex where they rest on your waist, like he wants to squeeze but holds himself back. then, with zero effort, he grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, just enough to force you to look at him. your lids are heavy, half-lidded, dazed, and fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel so possessive, but it does.

his thumb sweeps across your cheek, his jaw tensing. “shit. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over your features like he’s searching for anything more than just exhaustion. “lemme take care of you, hm?”

you don’t have it in you to resist, don’t even want to. you let him move you, let him handle you like you weigh nothing as he lifts you from his lap and shifts you onto the couch, laying you down as if you’re something delicate. and maybe you are, now, after the way he ruined you. maybe that’s why you don’t fight him when he presses your thighs apart, watching as they just fall open on their own, spread wide like a doll.

you don’t have the strength to do much else than whimper softly as his thumbs spread you further, gaze locked onto your swollen cunt, still so slick from where he fucked you. his jaw clenches.

you don’t even get a warning before he moves in, before his hands grip your thighs to keep them open as he dives between them, mouth sealing over your clit in one slow stroke of his tongue.

you jolt, a weak little gasp punching from your lungs. your fingers barely find the energy to tangle into his hair, and the grip is nowhere near as firm as it usually is, but he groans anyway. whether it’s from the feeling of your grip or from the way you instantly react to him, you don’t know. but he doesn’t stop.

his tongue moves slow, warm and so fucking wet as he licks broad, flat strokes over your sensitive flesh, working you open again with patience. he isn’t trying to overstimulate, isn’t trying to get you off again—though you can already tell it wouldn’t take much. his focus is entirely on easing the ache, on massaging every tender inch of you with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

“feels good?” his voice is muffled against you, but it vibrates in just the right way.

you nod, breath hitching when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling it in slow circles. your body twitches, heat curling at the base of your spine. “cheol…”

he moans against you, and presses you down harder against his face. your hips jump, an embarrassing whimper breaking free as his tongue dips lower, tracing around your entrance before dragging back up, collecting every bit of slick along the way.

you whine, fingers curling tighter in his hair. he doesn’t tease. doesn’t prolong it. just keeps his pace slow and steady, gentle enough to soothe, firm enough to keep you on the edge of something, even if you’re too sensitive to chase it. and if the way he’s grinding his hips into the couch tells you anything—it’s that he’s just as affected as you are.

he’s not eating you out to get himself off, but fuck if it isn’t working.

the obscene sounds of his mouth working between your thighs filling the entire apartment, mixing in with your breathless moans and the way he groans right into your cunt. you don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about the way your cum is smeared all over his chin, his jaw, his cheeks—how it drips down onto the couch below with every intentional roll of his tongue against your entrance.

his tongue works in circles, pressing flat to your hole before dragging up again, tasting every bit of your arousal as it gushes out onto his lips. his mouth is open the entire time, tongue rolling and flicking, nose nudging against your clit as he angles his head lower. he flattens his tongue, groaning as he drags it up through your folds before plunging it into you, so messy that you swear you see white behind your eyelids.

your back arches, chest rising in sharp, hiccupped gasps, every single nerve in your body on flames. your thighs twitch in his grasp, and he squeezes them tighter, keeping you spread open just for him. his hands slide up, one wrapping firmly around your waist, keeping you pinned in place, while the other travels up, up—his fingers finding the stiff peaks of your nipples.

your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as he rolls one between his fingertips, twisting just enough to make your eyes roll. you swear you hear him chuckle against you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“breathe,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before sucking it between his teeth, tongue rolling in lazy, teasing circles on the swollen bud. “breathe for me, baby.”

you try. you really do. but the way his mouth moves, the way his fingers tweak and pull, it’s too much. you’re spiraling. you feel another orgasm creeping up so fast it steals the air right out of your lungs.

he sees it. he knows.

his grip tightens on your thigh, his tongue flicking faster, working you open as his free hand continues to play with your tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling your nipples in rhythm with the lazy grind of his tongue against your clit.

your moans turn high-pitched, desperate. your body twists beneath him, unable to keep still as the pleasure builds, climbing higher and higher.

but then—a whimper.

not from you.

from him.

you force your heavy lids open, head lolling to the side as you try to focus on him. and fuck, the sight that greets you is almost enough to make you cum then and there.

seungcheol is rutting against the couch. grinding, fucking humping it like a damn dog, his hips rolling in slow thrusts, his rock-hard cock straining against his stomach, smearing precum all over his abs and the fabric beneath him.

he whimpers again, this time louder, his brows furrowed, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.

“fuck,” he groans, mouth still pressed against you, voice muffled by the way his tongue keeps working you over. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his chin soaked. his eyes are dark, glassy, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “can’t—fuck, i can’t stop. you taste too good.”

your chest tightens, a desperate, aching cry slipping from your lips as you clutch at his hair, thighs twitching in his grasp. “cheol—gonna—gonna cum, oh my god—”

he moans, actually fucking moans, his hips grinding down harder against the couch as he redoubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit in precise, teasing flicks, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to send you over the edge.

your body locks up. your back arches. your mouth falls open, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, all-consuming.

seungcheol doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow down. he works you through it like it’s his mission, licking you clean, his tongue rolling over your entrance, collecting every last drop as your body trembles violently beneath him.

your chest heaves, your vision blurring, but even through the haze, you can feel him still grinding against the couch, still so fucking hard and desperate, all because of you.

your brain is slow. dial-up connection slow. everything feels like it’s underwater, your body floating somewhere between consciousness and the best orgasm-induced coma of your life. it’s warm, so warm, like your body is still riding out the fever of your high, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth, throat dry, muscles heavy like they’re full of sand.

you don’t even remember when it happened—when you blacked out, when you got moved. just flashes of cool wipes dragging over your skin, a damp cloth pressed between your thighs, seungcheol’s hands gentle, careful, murmuring something you were too gone to comprehend. like déjà vu, like something out of a dream.

but you’re awake now. sort of. and you’re in his bed.

the sheets are soft, cool against your fevered skin, and it feels so good that you can’t help the tired, pleased moan that slips past your lips, involuntary, barely conscious.

but it’s enough to make him look at you.

you blink, vision still a little hazy, but yeah, that’s definitely seungcheol, sitting at his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, hair damp, probably from a shower. there’s a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are soft as they sweep over you, taking in the way you’re still half-buried in his sheets, limbs heavy, body relaxed.

then it hits you.

the documents.

joshua.

fuck.

your eyes widen, and you jolt up too fast, regretting it immediately when the soreness between your thighs protests, a sharp ache shooting up your spine. “fuck—”

seungcheol’s already up, one hand pressing to your shoulder, guiding you back down before you can do any more damage. “hey, hey, relax. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“the—documents,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again as the exhaustion creeps back in. “joshua.”

he chuckles, and you open your eyes just in time to see him shaking a small stack of papers in his hand. “yeah, yeah. i got it. sent them over while you were passed out.”

you frown, groggy. “i was supposed to send them.”

“and joshua needs to get used to me handling shit for you,” he says, grinning as he sets the papers down. “besides, he’d probably prefer not to get another noise complaint under his name.”

your face heats up instantly. “oh my god.”

“mhmm,” seungcheol hums, tilting his head. “wanna know how loud you were?”

“no.”

he laughs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek. “then go back to sleep, baby.”

you glare at him. or, at least, you try to. it’s weak, and he knows it, because all it takes is one more stroke of his thumb before your eyes flutter shut again, body sinking further into his bed.

yeah. you can fight him about the joshua thing later. maybe. probably not.

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classyrbf · 7 months ago

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HE'S SUCH A (HOT) LOSER! — CHOSO KAMO

SYNOPSIS...nsfw and sfw headcanons about loser!choso bc I can’t get him out of my head after righting that drabble about him

INFO...loser!choso x fem!reader, socially awkward, virgin!choso, jerking off, virginity loss, sexual acts, creampie,

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

loser!choso who literally has no friends, is the epitome of socially awkward and always ends making the conversation weird when he opens his mouth

loser!choso who has never seen a woman naked in real life, he just goes on porn sites and jerks his dick until it feels like it’s about to fall off, cum painted on his toned stomach

loser!choso who has sex toys in his closet, fleshlights, pocket pussies, whatever you call them—he has at least two, one of them even vibrates

loser!choso who is (you guessed it) a total virgin, he’s never even gotten close enough to lose it, yet alone have his first kiss

loser!choso who is forced by yuji to go on a dating app and try to find a girlfriend, and he ends up matching with you

loser!choso who stays in his room, playing video games, or goes to the gym, otherwise the poor boy has no social life (like I said, he has no friends)

loser!choso who finally goes on his first date with you and he’s sweating, stumbling over his words because you’re smiling at him, grabbing his hand and making jokes all while looking like some sort of goddess. He was starting to wonder if he’s dreaming

loser!choso who is absolutely stunned when you express how cute you think he is, how nice his hair looks, and he doesn’t know how to react so he just stands there and smiles at you like a complete idiot

loser!choso who drives home after the date and he genuinely can’t wait to get home to jerk off to the thought of you, so he pulls into an empty parking and pulls his pants down right there, tip already leaking precum when he remembers the way your tits were popping out of you dress

loser!choso who thinks the date went horribly wrong until you’re texting him the next day, already planning the next time you meet up, weirdly inviting him over to your place

loser!choso who is obsessed with titties (clearly) no matter what size. He imagines himself getting a hold of pair and just grabbing them, sucking them, it turns him on so bad

loser!choso who thinks nothing of going over your house until he gets his one wish, getting a hold of your tits in his hands, and he’s star struck, just groping, squeezing and without thinking he’s sucking on them

loser!choso who ends up losing his virginity a few minutes later with you bouncing up and down on his cock, pussy gushing around him. He’s in literal heaven and can barely think, brain turned to mush

loser!choso who realizes real sex is better than porn fairly quickly, and lets just say he becomes more obsessed with you than ever cause it’s so much more intimate when you’re holding him, praising him, calling him a good boy

loser!choso who cums in your pussy so many times that night, and the aftermath leaves him stuck in the same spot on your bed while you cuddle up to him and tell him how much you like him even if you’ve only known him for two days

loser!choso who now has his first ever girlfriend, his first everything with you and he can’t wait to brag to yuji about it because you’re absolutely gorgeous

loser!choso who shows you off on his social media despite the twenty followers that he has, he just want to show off his girlfriend to whoever he can

loser!choso who gets weird stares in public from other men when he’s out with you because he knows you’re way out of his league, but just to make them jealous he grabs you and kisses you in front of them

loser!choso who doesn’t develop a sense of fashion until he meets you, going to countless stores as you pick out outfits that’ll look good on him, and he won’t lie, you’ve done a very good job because he’s gained much more confidence in himself

loser!choso who goes on and on about his special interests and you sit there smiling at him, listening intently. He’s lowkey a nerd but you love it

loser!choso who hangs with no one but you, missing you constantly and randomly showing up at your house when he feels like you’ve spent too much time apart

loser!choso who wants to learn how to pleasure you more so he looks up videos on how to eat pussy and watches all the porn he can to study their movements, but when he tells you, you just laugh and say how silly he is, showing him a hands on tutorial, instructing him on what to do and what you like

loser!choso who constantly asks if he made you cum, poor baby doesn’t want you to go around unsatisfied so he doesn’t everything in his power to make you feel good no matter what

loser!choso who is (obviously) the quiet type, so he studies what you like and what you do by watching you and when he grabs your exact fast food order without you saying anything, you’re standing there confused and he’s looking down at you like “what?”

loser!choso who has a glow up because of you, and girls that have rejected him come crawling back into his life not knowing about you, so he just hits them with the “my beautiful girl who I love very much does not like you talking to me bye” and blocks them

loser!choso who is actually very sweet despite his awkwardness, he might look stand offish in person and act weird around others, but when he’s comfortable with you hes a different person

loser!choso who gets you anything you ask for, spending countless amounts of money on you even if you don’t ask for it, he just loves you so much he wants to show his appreciation in every way whether that’s spoiling you or making you cum

#—☆classyrbf #anime #anime smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut #choso headcanons #choso smut #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk choso #choso kamo

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madamechrissy · 11 days ago

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Pour it Up

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F!reader

Summary:- You are a single mother, your baby daddy is not just worthless, he also is actively trying to sabotage you, so you go out on your own and raise your kid by yourself. Struggling your ass off, a friend of a friend named Toji decides to offer you a hell of a deal, a few hours a night at a strip club to make BANK. While there, you meet the other owner, Sukuna, and the moment he sees you? You annoy him how beautiful you are, how much he wants you, pushing him to insanity. He knows he must have you- no matter whose ass he needs to beat.

Warnings:- reader is a mom, lowkey/highkey Yandere Sukuna behavior (He's obsessed- down bad) recreational drug use, drug dealing Sukuna (the club lowkey a front lol) Mafia ties, EXPLICIT sexual content, fluff/smut AND light angst- violence, some former trauma of reader. This part- SO MUCH FLUFF lol- a lot of humor, next chap we'll be back to some drama so enjoyyy, Stepdad Kuna, whipped ass Kuna, some smut ofc hehe, oral (f revieving) lil bit of dirty talk, emotional sex- angst smut AND fluff - WC-6.6k

Will be eight or more parts- ties into my Mob Gojo story-takes place after part one of that (can be read alone ofc) I HIGHLY recommend the playlist (esp on the club scenes) That mobster art in the banner is by Sketch B on X- LINKReblogs/comments so appreciated if you enjoyy!

<<<Part Four Playlist Masterlist Part six>>> (coming soon)

Part Five

A nice and steamy, pounding hot shower was just what you needed, alone in Sukuna’s own personal bathroom, as he spends time with Touma. You’re exhaling as you sit on the marble bench, letting the water hit you in waves, sighing at just how good it feels, the little drops pounding against your skin, easing the sore achiness of your muscles.

A shower alone as a mother was unheard of, maybe a quick five minutes, but usually Touma and work had you so exhausted you got in for just that, too much to do, too tired to do more than scrub your skin, wash your hair. As fast as you could, but this was pure fucking bliss.

The first day moving most of your things - which wasn’t much- to Sukuna’s penthouse, had been a bit surprising. He’d had movers ready, they all basically did everything for you, and when you’d come, Sukuna had thankfully put up all the freaky shit in his room, and locked up all guns and drugs out of sight. The first meeting of Touma and Sukuna makes you giggle even in the shower.

Touma had been curious when Sukuna had leaned down and kissed you, hugging at your leg and looking at him. Sukuna looked right back. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Touma.” He answers, so seriously. “Are you… you in love with my mom.” Sukuna had paused, mouth wide open, brows low in a shocked glare that had made you burst out laughing.

“Touma baby, Mr. Sukuna is helping us live in this really nice place for a bit, but he’s-”

“So what if I am, kid? Got a problem?” Sukuna got down on his haunches, and Touma had stepped in front of you protectively, melting you as you watched Touma walk right up to Sukuna.

Mob boss, intimidating ass Ryomen Sukuna, and your kid crosses his little arms, tilting his own head. “She’s my Mama, I protect her.”

You gulp down your own emotions now, and Sukuna just glares at him. “And you think I won’t protect her?”

“It’s my job, I’m Touma. I protect Mama.” You’re damn near in tears, turning away for a moment, you hate that Touma feels this way, you’re instantly wracked with questions.

All the fights he saw?

Was it-

“That’s because I love mommy. Do you love mommy?”

“Maybe I do. Will you come kick my ass?” Touma giggles as you turn around and glare.

“Sukuna!”

“No, only if you hurt mommy.” Sukuna sighs then, big huge hand on Touma’s little shoulder.

“I’ll never hurt your mom. Okay? I want to… protect her. Better than you even.” You feel like you’re in some dream in that moment, as Touma stomps that little foot, shaking his head.

“Not better!”

“Way better. I’m bigger, hah!” Touma shoves at Sukuna then, and Sukuna yanks him up high, throwing him over his shoulder, as Touma’s legs wiggle. “See?”

“Put me down, Mama tell him!”

“Put him down, shit.” You can’t stop your laugh though, as Sukuna eases him down until he’s standing again, and he’s holding his shoulders very seriously.

“Will you help me protect your mama?” He asks softly, a tone you have rarely heard, and Touma sighs, nodding then.

“But I can do it alone, you know.”

“I’m sure you can, kid.” Sukuna smiles up at you then, seeing the glimmering tears in your eyes. “You know she’s kinda a crybaby.”

“Excuse me!?”

“Are you one too?”

“No, not a crybaby!” Touma determines, Sukuna grins then, spreading across his handsome face.

“Good, good… wanna see some cool shit?”

“Cool sh-”

“Bad word, Touma!” You cover his mouth, glaring at Sukuna then. “Watch that mouth, hmm?”

“She’s very bossy.” Sukuna says, Touma giggles, and then he tilts his head. “Come on, I got all kinds of… kid shit.”

“Mouth!”

“Kid things, fuck.”

“Don’t cuss like Mr. Sukuna, it’s bad.” You whisper, but Touma looks at you all bright eyed.

“He loves Mama.” You look up to see Sukuna’s blush, bringing upon your own as you clear your throat.

“You think so?” Touma nods, then Sukuna leads you both over, to open a door that’s somehow become a kid’s fucking paradise. Touma squeals, literally squeals, just running in, and you follow, blinking just a bit in shock. Touma starts bouncing on a little toddler bed, and Sukuna shakes his head.

“Ah-ah. No jumping. Didn’t mommy tell you about those stupid monkeys?”

“Monkeys… what?”

“They broke their bones.”

“Kuna!” He just grins as Touma gasps, stopping jumping immediately, but you sigh, taking in every bit of the room, dinosaurs all over, a gaming system, somehow he’s got everything a kid needs in one day. “How’d you do it all?” You murmur, while Touma starts poking around on a remote.

“I paid a shit ton of money for someone to set up shit for a little boy.” He shrugs a broad shoulder, eyeing you then. “Don’t cry, brat.”

“I… you…” You’re in tears, fully, and Sukuna sighs, holding you then, a big hand on your head as he tries to hush you. “You d-did all this? For me? For us?”

“It’s not shit, I just spent money. I literally snapped my fingers and a bunch of workers did the shit. Stop… you’re such a crybaby.”

You’re sobbing now, quietly against his shoulder, as he brushes a hand down your back, his heart filling more and more with every fucking moment he’s near you, when he sees your exhausted, tear streak face he falters, mouth opening and closing. But you beat him to it, cupping his face and leaning up.

“I really love you, Sukuna. You’re… you’re something so… you’re so different, from anything.” He exhales nervously, looking away and gulping.

“You’re being all sappy, stop it. Just wanted him to be comfortable.”

“Thank you so much. He loves it already.” You’re giggling while you’re crying, Sukuna smiles just a bit.

“You’re a wreck, brat.”

“I know.” He exhales, letting you cuddle to him, when Touma comes up and hugs his thigh, making Sukuna freeze, and you grin.

“Thank you Mr. Kuna!”

“God, even your kid uses the name? It’s Sukuna.”

“Kuna!”

“Jesus.”

You’re still grinning so hard it hurts, fuck when was the last time you were this damn happy, even with the looming threat of Naoya and so much more happening. As you turn off the silver knob of the shower, you’re curious how it’s going, Sukuna and a kid kind of made no sense, but seeing him trying more in one day than Naoya did in years was touching, it was fucking beautiful.

You don’t just - kind of love him- or - think you’re in love. No, you’re madly head over heels for this gruff crime lord, who’s giving you so much, and you don’t know what he gets in return. You want to help him, and be good for him, show him just how appreciative you are. Which, you heat up as you stare in the mirror, thinking of ways to show him tonight.

As you slip on your pajamas, you hear ‘ bang bang’ and rush out, it’s Touma saying it, over and over. You hear Sukuna’s booming laugh, rushing out with still damp hair as you eye the scene in front of you, mouth dropped open, Touma’s hand has a toy gun, his damn teddy bears have their little squishy arms tied, and there is fake money strewn all over.

“Haha, yeah kid, you just point and say it, c’mon you got it.” Sukuna’s grinning as he sits on the carpet, with his own toy gun, showing him. “Say - yo- you got my money!?”

“Yo gots my money!” Touma giggles now. “Bang!”

Sukuna slaps Touma in the back so hard the kid almost falls, affectionately you think!? “Yes, that’s it, then you-”

“What are you two doing, hmm!?” You cross your arms, and they both look at you, Touma’s eyes bright and glittering, Sukuna just smirking.

“What, we’re playing and bonding and that kinda shit. Touma, show mommy.”

“Look!” Touma shoots off the nerf gun now, and you gasp as he knocks the teddy bears right over, Sukuna smacks Touma in the back, bursting with laughter.

“This kid, I like him, look at that aim, huh? Now you take the-”

“Are you two serious!?” You demand, scowling at Sukuna, but Touma giggles and runs to you now, jumping up and down.

“Mommy, so much fun! Kuna is so fun I wuv him!” Sukuna clears his throat, bashful suddenly as he stands, rubbing the back of his neck.

You ignore the barbies that the teddy bears have thrown fake cash at apparently for just a moment, ignore the tied up bears and the nerf guns, and look down at Touma, who you haven’t seen this happy in so long. Then back at a Sukuna who is looking away, worried he’s fucked it all up.

You exhale then, realizing it.

You’re hopelessly in love, and even your kid loves this crazy ass man, on sight. “Although this isn’t the best game to play…”

They both look at you, eyes hopeful.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, hmm?” You murmur to Touma, brushing back his soft hair, you hear Sukuna’s exhale as Touma runs back to the game. Sukuna eyes you, walking close and leaning down, hands in his pockets. “You-”

“I know, I know I’m shit with kids. I just wanted you to have a break for a minute, and I don’t know what brat ass little... things even do. I figured-”

“Shh.” You grab his face then, kissing his lips gently, and he pulls you close, right against his chest, your skin dewy from the shower, eyes once again swirling with emotions, as he gulps a bit, just how pretty you are.

“You’re pissed hmm?”

“No, not pissed. This isn’t good behavior but… look at him.” Touma’s popping nerf guns at the bears with a little too much precision. “He’s so happy. Thank you for all of this, really, even if this is… inappropriate and a horrible influence, but...”

Sukuna blinks sooty pink lashes. “You're thanking me?”

“Yeah, you’re trying. And he… wuvs you.” You watch him look away again, as Touma begins to yawn.

“Tch. Wiped out already, kid?” Sukuna demands, but Touma just nods, and you swoop in, getting him to lay down, Sukuna lingers by the outside of the door, giving you both a moment.

“Will you be okay sleeping in here tonight?” You ask softly, Touma’s eyes are already fluttering shut as you cover him up.

“I like it here mommy, he’s so fun!” You grin down at him.

“He is fun.”

Touma touches your cheek with his little hand, melting you. “You love him, huh Mama?”

You look behind you, seeing his shadow along the doorway, sighing and then looking back at Touma, smiling. “Keep it a secret, but yes.”

Sukuna’s heart hammers in his chest as he hears you both, and you hum so sweetly to him, his feelings so overwhelming he can’t control himself. The minute you shut the door, you’re in his arms, lifted, his hands gripping your thighs, pressing you against the wall.

You gasp then, before you relax, and he smells how sweet you are from that body wash he bought you, you probably would flip if you knew the price tag, but Sukuna would get you anything. You don’t know what he’d do for you, who he’d kill for you, just to keep you and that kid- who's actually pretty okay, for a kid - safe, and happy, so quickly you’ve consumed him.

You’re clinging to his shoulders, as you bite your plump lower lip, trying not to make any noise, and Sukuna exhales, leaning even closer, lips a breath from yours. “Know how crazy you make me, brat? Got me having a whole kid here, got me thinking of putting another in you.”

You flush now, arching your hips, as he hides his groan in your neck, exhaling, your hands enwrapped in pastel locks. “Think I don’t picture it too? Think you don’t make me insane?”

“I need you, brat. Now.” He whispers, you nod eagerly and he’s carrying you, like you’re nothing, kissing messy and brutal down the hallway, until you’re in his room, and he’s kissing down your neck, biting your delicate skin brutally.

“Kuna!” You’re whimpering as he does, grinding your heated cunt against him in your silky shorts, feeling his cock hard and throbbing.

“Need you now.” You nod eagerly once more, as you look up into dilated ruby eyes, almost black.

“Then take me.”

“God, what you do, woman…” You’re on his bed before you can blink, dizzy with how the man just throws you around, how he’s slipping off your shorts, you’re throwing a hand over your mouth as he spreads your thighs, kissing down your breasts, to the peaks of them, making your back arch. “Ah-ah.”

Sukuna yanks your hand off your mouth, and you suck in a breath when he’s kissing your other breasts, tongue lapping around and areola. “I can’t have him hear anything!”

Sukuna grins then. “I told you, it’s pretty much soundproof.”

Your eyes narrow. “Do I wanna know why?” He chuckles, continuing to kiss, lick and bite between your breasts and around your rib cage, shoving your little pajama top up further as he does.

“If you must know brat, I used to have Toji living here, and I decided I didn’t want him jerking off while I’m fucking.” You shake your head with a breathless giggle.

“You two!? Lived together!?”

“He lived here while he was a broke bitch, now I really don’t wanna talk about Toji right now.” He bites your nipple hard, and you whine out, head falling back against the soft pillows.

“You’re so f-freaky…”

“Mmm, I take it easy on you, you know that? Think I’ve ever been like this with a woman?” You exhale now, hands running through the pastel locks of his hair, arching your hips up more as he kisses down a shimmery white stretch mark. “God look how fucking sexy you are.”

“Kuna… please…” He smirks now, kissing even lower, until he’s hovering over your pussy, breath hot as he spreads your lips, spitting right on your clit and groaning as he watches it trail down.

“Please what, brat? I can’t take my time?” He demands, raising a brow, your pussy is drooling as he flicks his tongue on your clit, making you moan out loud, his cock is so hard he’s thrusting it against the bed for friction.

“Need you, please, stop teasing.” He flicks his tongue again, chuckling against you as your thighs are trembling on either side of his head.

“Oh do you? Need what, hmm?”

“More.” You yank on his hair, and he’s grinning against your pussy, tongue swirling around your clit but just not hitting it, watching you huff in frustration. “Kuna, please!”

“You’re beggin’ huh? So pathetic?”

“You know what-” You yank his face against you now, and he moans as you do, the action turning him on so much he can’t think, as you greedily grind against his face, and he’s leaking precum, dying to be inside your tight entrance, lapping all your juices up so hungry. “Y-yes!”

“Greedy little slutty brat f’me?” You nod as he murmurs against your skin, as his huge tattooed hands are pressing your thighs further apart, and he’s drinking you up, moaning as he works you. “Gonna fuck my face- god yes.”

“S-sorry… need more…” You’re lost now, as you rock up and down, as his tongue and nose and teeth all work you over and over so good, until you feel the pressure building, breasts heaving with your quicker breaths. “So good, f-fuck, Kuna it’s so…”

“Cum all over my face, c’mon baby.” He urges, lapping your juices from your hole up to your clit while you’re gasping for breaths, pleasure wrecking your brain, washing all over you in waves. “C’mon lemme drink it up.”

“Mnh!” You’re cumming so hard as he drinks you up, as his fingers bruise your thighs, and his mouth devours your pussy, the sounds of him echoing off the walls and making you scream out more and more. As you’re pulsing around his tongue, the wet muscle presses up, tastebuds just a little rough on gummy walls, forcing you into another orgasm.

“Mmm…” He’s moaning at your sweet taste, licking at his lips now, biting your inner thigh, the pain making you cry out again, hands now gripping his shoulders, broad and strong, yanking at the shirt he’s wearing. “Need me so bad?”

“God, you already know I do, you’re so-” He cuts off your compliments with a hungry kiss, as you’re running your fingers down his muscles, trying to take a breath, thighs shaking while his cock is rubbing between them.

“Taste yourself.” You’re lapping your juices off his lips with your little pink tongue, as he’s grinding against you, still in pants, making you huff in frustration, yanking on them as he laughs.

“You’re so mean, jus’ lemme…”

“Gotta have me right now, can’t wait, you’re so impatient.”

“No, c-can’t.” You’re freeing his cock, stroking the huge, thick length up and down, thumb pressing against his piercing, eyes darting up to his face as he drinks you in. “Beautiful.”

“Me!? Shut that shit up.”

“You are.”

“Calling me some bitch shit. You’re beautiful.” You smile and shake your head, thumb brushing across a flat brown nipple. “So beautiful I never want anyone to even fucking see you again.” His voice is husky, one of his hands guiding his cock to rub up and down between your folds, pressing against your clit, making you drool down his length.

“Never, how will I strip then?” You tease softly, he scowls, rubbing the piercing against you over and over, watching your pretty eyes flutter shut.

“Think I’ll let you?”

“Think you can stop me?”

Sukuna smirks, shaking his head as he shoves his cock deep inside you, and you’re screaming out, thankful his walls are soundproof for whatever weird reason it was, as the stretch burns so good inside your cunt. You’re struggling to take him as he watches every expression on your perfect features, your lips parted, your nails pressing into his skin.

“I can stop you alright.” He whispers, pulling back and thrusting deeper, stuffing you even more full, tears in your eyes as he works you. “Gonna argue ever when I give it to you so fuckin’ good?”

You shake your head, whispering out - “N-not fair…”

“Takin’ my cock like you’re made for it.” Sukuna’s words along with him yanking a thigh up, putting the arch of your foot on his shoulder and kissing your ankle makes your walls pulse around him. “Struggling to take it, too fuckin’ tiny?”

“I c-can do it.” He smirks down at you, broad smile on his handsome face, before he slams inside you so hard your toes curl, hitting your cervix as you damn near pull back, his hands dragging you by your hips.

“Don’t run, now- f-fuck…” Sukuna moans as he leans over, sinking impossibly deeper, cock stroking in and out of you, his teeth grazing your neck as he buries his face against your neck, exhaling and biting harder, spurned on by your whines, making him lose it.

“Mnh! So b-big…” You’re whispering, hissing again as he bites your neck harder, sliding hotly tongue up the side of it, shalmming his cock so far in you’re cumming again, piercing dragging right on that fucking spot.

“You’re so tight f-fuck, so wet for me, just me huh?”

You nod, panting, eyes squeezed shut as his cock stretches you open, as he’s fucking you harder now, deep and fast, his pelvis slapping into yours, making a sloppy, obscene fucking sound the wetter and wetter you get. You can feel your cunt gushing around him, feel it dripping down between your thighs, down your ass and his balls that are heavy and smacking you.

He pulls up, ruby eyes locked on yours, as you whisper - “L-love you.”

Sukuna pauses, exhaling, hot breath against already overheated lips when he cups your face with a big hand, slowing his thrusts for a moment, making every inch take so excruciatingly long, letting you feel every fucking part of him. Your heart races, you can’t stop yourself.

“I do. I do. I d-do… I know it’s-”

“Shut it, brat.” He slams his lips back down on yours, shutting up your every confession, rolling his hips so his piercing is pressing on that spongy spot, drinking in your every cry, while your pussy is tightening around his cock.

“Kuna…” You’re hiccuping at how good he feels, while he’s leaning heavy weight on you, brushing your hair back. “S-sorry…”

“Shh.” Hiis thrusts are becoming more erratic, more intense, watching your eyes roll back, mouth open. “Think I don’t love you?”

Your eyes try to focus, but he’s fucking you so good it’s impossible, you just sputter as he works over you, one hand now resting under your chin, long fingers wrapping your delicate neck. He rests his other elbow near your head, that hand entangling in your hair, pulling at it, watching as he fucks you stupid.

“Answer me, now.” He orders, you’re clinging to the sheets, and he glares now, slowing his strokes. “Get those nails back on my back.”

“Yes, y-yes sir…” You do just that, watching him moan, his head falling back, you eagerly kiss down his neck, lapping at the bobbing adam's apple as he’s in bliss, your walls contracting around him, pouring out more and more soaking arousal.

“Answer me.” He orders again, while your nails are digging against his muscled back, looking back at you, eyes black damn near, slamming his cock in so hard you have to bite back a full scream, only earning his groan, squeezing your throat just a bit harder. “Now.”

“I d-don’t know if y-you feel sorry for-”

“Nah, fuck that, I just fucking want you. I need you.” He watches your eyes go glassy, your lips tremble, as your thighs squeeze his hips, and he works your cunt so goddamn good, thumb pressing your racing pulse. “Did I fuck you too stupid, think I don’t love you already?”

“Kuna…” You’re sobbing when you kiss him, and he loses himself even more in you, inside you, surrounding you, while your back arches, lips and tongues fighting for dominance, as he flips you, now letting you on top of him.

“Gonna make me keep saying it, like some dumb fucking simp?” He demands with a glare, and you nod with a little giggle so breathless and weak, while he slips you down his cock. “Then you better ride me.”

It’s been a while, and you aren’t sure you’re good at it, faltering, as your hands rest on his strong chest, against just a part of the endless black tattoos, your hair falling to the side as you roll your hips. “Will you tell me if I’m okay?”

He scowls, lifting your hips and dragging you back down his cock, watching your breasts bounce as he brings you down on him, veins pulsing inside your cunt. “Okay is never a fucking word for you. Y’know how good your pussy is, show me, huh baby?” He whispers, encouraging you, and you nod then, biting your lip, watching as his cheeks tint pink even in the dim lighting of his room, as he bites his lip with white teeth.

“Like this?” You ask nervously, trying to shove back all the past of hearing how terrible you were at things, because Sukuna looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess right now, nodding and gulping.

“Fuck yeah, just like that, ride me till you cum.” He says, all husky, and you eagerly start to bounce now, thighs slapping against his as you ride him harder, faster, then start leaning up, thighs working themselves. Sukuna’s groaning out loud, hands now on your ass cheeks, pumping up inside you. “There it is, there you go-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit.

You instantly freeze, looking at the door, and hearing it again-

Knock knock knock.

“I need to-”

“Fuck no.” Sukuna drags you back on him as you go to get up, but you glare now, shaking your head. “Really now.”

“Mama? Mr. Kuna?” You hear, and Sukuna holds back his groan as he covers his face, cock twitching when you’re sliding off it, cursing yourself with how sore you already are.

“Let him go back to bed.” Sukuna grumbles, staring at his cock that’s glistening with you, as you slip on pajamas and giggle.

“Mostly soundproof?” You tease.

“He didn’t hear shit, promise, unless he’s right against the door the entire time.” He murmurs, cupping your face.

“I’ll be back in a bit, Mr. Kuna.” Sukuna scowls as you rush out, and throw a blanket over him.

Kids are cockblocks.

“What is it, Touma?” You murmur, as you walk out, and see him sleepily rubbing one eye, but when you bend down you see his distraught face. “Bad dream baby?”

“Bad dream. Mama got hurt in it.” He’s sniffling then, and you pick him up quickly, holding him tight.

“No, Touma I’m fine!”

“Mama was gone.” His words make your heart hammer, you shake your head quickly as you walk back to his new room, feet padding gently on the polished floors until you hit his soft carpet.

“Mama will never leave you.” You murmur, laying him back down, and Touma lifts the bright blue blanket, patting it with his little hand.

“Cuddles?” You smile amidst terror gnawing at you, trying to shove it all down for him, getting right in the toddler bed, laying on an arm as you watch him.

“You worry so much, I promise I’ll be okay. You seemed so happy today, with Mr. Kuna hmm?” You brush his hair back and he grins now.

“I like him so much! He’s so fun!”

You grin right back, heart fluttering as you think of it- Sukuna loves you.

Loves you.

“He is fun. I think he likes you alot too, Touma.”

“Will we be here a long time?” You blink a bit then, sighing and snuggling further against Touma, as he rubs your cheek, so caring already so young, he touches your heart more every moment, the love for your son so deep it feels impossible that you had room for Sukuna too.

It’s like your heart grew to expand enough for the both of them, though of course the love is so different, you now know you’ve never felt it for another man, even when you thought you loved him. Naoya. How, you can’t really fathom, the gaslighting, manipulation!?

Were you such a fool?

But then you wouldn’t have him, your baby boy.

“Mama?”

“Sorry, baby.” You try to snap back to the moment, as Touma’s little pout is so serious for his cute little face. “We will be here for a while I think.”

“I like that, Mr. Kuna can show me more games!” You yawn, as you pull him against you.

“Maybe nicer games?” Touma yawns now too, and you snuggle closer, feeling sleep tug at you. “Maybe I’ll just sleep for a minute…”

Twenty minutes.

Does it take twenty minutes to get a kid to sleep!? Sukuna doesn’t know, but he knows the kid is now responsible for the girl he loves leaving him wanting, and that’s irritating. He wants you all to himself, and sharing you is irritating, even if he does really like the kid, he needs you back.

Sukuna decides to finally go check once his cock went down, which took far too fucking long, and he pauses at the doorway when he sees it then, his heart doing this irritating flutter feeling. It’s even worse than the love he feels already, when he sees you snoring lightly right next to your little boy, who is snuggled against you tightly, his little arms around your neck.

“Well, shit.” He mumbles, leaning on the doorway for a moment, crossing his arms as he stares at the two of you, you sleeping on one arm, no blanket, it appears you’d put it all on Touma.

Sukuna sighs now, walking in the little room, taking a pillow and slipping it under your head, you hum just a bit, still curled up in the tiny little bed. He chuckles softly, taking some of the blanket and tucking you up in it, looking at the little smile on your pretty face, stroking your cheek for just a moment.

You’re so cute he’ll forgive you for leaving him hanging, he supposes, looking at Touma who snuggles right back to you, and you instinctively wrap your arm around him in your sleep. The sight of the two of you, especially you cuddling what is just about a copy of you, is too much for him, he’s feeling too sappy, and irritated, deciding to scowl just a bit for good measure.

He wants you in his bed, dammit… he wants you to cuddle him, but he has to admit as he walks out, you’re fucking adorable.

*****

Sukuna wakes up to heavenly scents wafting through his penthouse, tummy grumbling as you work your magic in his kitchen, the sight of you humming in little sleep shorts half rolled up is far more appetizing than event he scents, as he eyes Touma sipping orange juice from a little cup with a top, grinning at him.

“Mr. Kuna!” Touma runs to him, and you turn back to see him hugging Sukuna’s leg, Sukuna just stands there, grimacing as you giggle, earning his glare your direction, a thousand things unspoken in that expression of his.

“Yeah, morning kid.” Sukuna pats Touma’s head, pushing at him a bit awkwardly, eyeing you looking all fresh faced with a messy bun, spatula in your hand. “And good morning, brat.”

“Morning Kuna.”

“Tch.” He steps to you now, swiping at a little flour on your nose, inhaling how sweet you smell, pressing a kiss on your lips. “You’re in trouble, y’know?”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whisper, as you now eye Touma. “Hey, can he watch some tv?”

“Shit, yeah. What do you watch, kid?” He asks, as you hand Touma a plate, and Sukuna flips on the tv in the living room, letting Touma sit on the floor in front of it with his waffles, eggs and bacon.

“Bluey!”

“The fuck’s a Bluey?” You’re holding back laughter as you finish making breakfast for you and Sukuna, listening to the ensuing humor that is your boyfriend and your son conversing.

“It’s a dog, and she’s so cool, Mr. Kuna do you wanna watch!” Sukuna grimaces, shaking his head and turning on Netflix, handing Touma the remote.

“God no. Here, you know how to put it on?”

“Mhm!”

“Good.” He pats Touma’s head again, and comes back to you, as you’re making him a plate, complete with a whipped cream smile and strawberry eyes. Sukuna’s face makes you burst into laughter.

“It’s cute, huh?”

“You’re so asking for it.” He grumbles, snatching up the syrup and slathering it all over the fluffy waffles, destroying your smiley face.

“Meanie!”

“Tch. Where’d you get all this food anyway? I order out all the time.”

“I ordered groceries, is that okay?”

Sukuna’s jaw sets. “With your money, no.”

“Kuna!”

“No, I’ll have to give you a card or some shit.” You shake your head at him, making your own plate and sitting next to him, biting back a sigh when his big warm hand touches your thigh, and he leans close.

“Sorry I passed out.” You murmur, awakening far too much he’s trying to hold back, his eyes narrow at you.

“I’ll make you make up for it tonight.” You shift just a bit in your seat at the mere thought, earning his smirk, as his hand squeezes the plush of your thigh. “With that mouth, hmm?”

“Oh, I don’t mind that.” You whisper, against his ear, sending shivers of desire down his spine, before you kiss his cheek. “This is the best day I’ve had.”

“It’s just started, though?”

“Still. It is. It feels… right?” He brushes his hand up and down your thigh, moaning as he bites into the waffle now, feeling it so flaky and fluffy in his mouth, so sweet.

“Tastes so goddamn good, shit.”

“As good as me?” You tease, mouthing quietly, he bites back a moan, dragging you even closer, one of your legs over his.

“Nothing’s that good, shit. But close?” You nibble on one too, smiling happily, to be this close to him just doing something so simple is bliss. “Gonna have to keep you around, cooking like this.”

“Yeah?” You grin so big, lighting up your face, making him falter, then making him scowl. “What!?”

“Making me sappy, so fucking annoying.”

“Poor Kuna.” You kiss him again, he tries to keep the scowl, but it fails. After a little bit he’s fully in a four piece suit, however, overcoat and all, along with black leather gloves, making you frown a bit while you’re washing dishes.

“I have a dishwasher, brat.”

“I am just used to hand washing.” You dry your pretty little hands on a towel, he frowns as he looks at them, a little calloused from the pole already, he doesn’t like that, he really doesn’t want you doing a damn thing as soon as you’ll let him take care of you completely. “Where are you going? Should I call Miwa over for a bit to watch Touma, go with?”

“No, you can’t go to this shit.” You frown deeper, and he tilts your chin up, shaking his head. “Dangerous.”

“Then why do you go!?” You whisper, heart feeling with fear, and he leans closer, arms now on either side of you on the counter.

“Baby girl I run a mob, I’m not some little bitch. I’m always good.”

“But-”

“This is part of it.” His tone is firmer, and he lifts his jacket, showing an array of guns and knives glinting that make your tummy flip.

“All that?” You whisper, eyeing him with even more fear.

“I’m always good, promise. You play pretty housewife and hang out with the kid, I need to deal with…”

“Naoya?” You’re mouthing it, he shakes his head.

“Not yet. Meeting with the Kamo family first, okay?”

“So not as…”

“No, they’re pretty in with the Gojo family. But this isn’t a concern, what I need you to do is wear him out today so I get you all to myself, hmm?” He’s smirking, and you fight him with a pout, until he keeps kissing you over and over, and you’re melting in his arms, nodding. “Good girl.”

“You’re not playing fair.” He’s pulling and your waist just a bit, thumbs brushing under your breasts, as every nerve ending is on fire for him.

“I’ll be back later, make me something yummy for dinner too?”

“You’re liking this a lot aren’t you?” You tease, but he hears it, the hope and nerves in your voice, he pinches your ass, and you hold in your yelp, smacking a hand on your mouth as he grins.

“I’ll like it more when you melatonin the-”

“Kuna!”

“Well, just saying. I need to go though.” He frowns at his rolex, and your heart feels like it will pound from your chest in fear. “Have you seen me? Think anyone can fuck with me?”

You look down, terrified for him, feeling the guilt of causing more problems gnawing at you. “But he-”

“Ain’t got shit on me, brat, does he?” Sukuna raises a brow, god you want to just stay in his arms forever, but you know you can’t.

“Nothing, and you know that. But he’s-”

“Ah-ah. Shut it. Now, entertain the kid or whatever you do? Take the day to relax a bit. If you need something just call me.” He leans a little closer, pressing his lips on your forehead, your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels. “Bodyguards are outside, no one will come here.”

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Tch. You’ll thank me later alright.” You glare so cute, as he walks by, but not before Touma runs to him, hugging his thigh again, and the sight is so adorable your cheeks hurt from grinning. “God, you’re a clingy kid huh?”

“Mr. Kuna, will you watch a movie with me later?” He asks, and Sukuna rolls his red eyes, shrugging as he tries to pry the kid off him.

“Sure, but I’ll pick it, maybe Godfather or-”

“You will not even watch Godfather!” He smirks over at you, winking.

“I’ll let your Mama pick instead.”

“Okay! Have fun at work!” Sukuna bites back a smile, walking out then, leaning against the door and righting himself, he’s been too blissful for the day, for the night, now he knows, it’s time to get serious. He takes his phone, hearing Satoru’s voice on the other line now.

“Got it scheduled right?” He asks Gojo then, and he sighs.

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s gonna be so boring.”

“Rather bang that bartender huh?” He snorts in laughter as he rides the elevator down, hearing Gojo sigh dramatically again.

“More than that.”

“Shit, you down that bad already?”

“Says you, Stepdad Kuna.”

“God don’t you fuckin’ call me that too, shit.” He’s disgusted as he steps into the back of the limo, hanging up and seeing Satoru in the backseat, all pouting.

“I don’t wanna be up this early going to see them, they’re so-”

“Boring, yeah yeah. Think I wanna?” Sukuna grumbles right back, looking out the window for a moment, thinking of spending the day with you.

“I know this is necessary just… the Kamo family are pretentious as fuck, I get tired of trying to make deals with them.” Satoru sprawls his long legs, then perks up just a bit as Sukuna grabs a little baggie. “Gonna share?”

“If it cheers your mopey ass up.” Satoru’s grin is back, though his shades are pushed up a little higher than usual. “You gonna go on a date with her?”

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna ask her…”

“When?”

“Um… I… how do you ask a girl out exactly? I’ve never…”

“Yeah.” Sukuna snorts in laughter again. “We are not having a father to son talk I sure the fuck hope.”

“I’m not much younger, and women just come to me.” Satoru sighs again, snorting a line and pinching his nose. “I really like her, Kuna.”

“I hate that name so fucking much.” Sukuna snorts one too, wishing he could instead snort it off your pretty body. “Just ask her?”

“Like and take her where?”

“I don’t fucking know, Fiji?”

“Yeah?”

“No, Satoru, shit… like dinner or something. Hmm…” He pauses then, he hasn’t even taken you out yet. “Where do you take dates?”

“Let’s ask Suguru.” When Satoru and Sukuna stop in front of Suguru’s place and he glides in, he’s now bombarded by the two grown ass men, Satoru pouting, Sukuna’s lips in a terse line.

“You all look… serious.” Suguru muses with a smirk.

“How do you ask a girl on a date!?” Satoru asks, and Sukuna shakes his head, holding up a hand.

“Where do you take your girl on a date?”

Suguru blinks a bit now, before snorting in laughter, one of his hands over his mouth, shaking dark hair. “You two serious?” A pair of blue and red eyes just stare at him now, and he sighs. “Shit, you are. Alright then…”

I KNOW so much fluff- this will clearly be more than six parts- prob eight? I don't know yet I'm having too much fun with Stepdad Kuna don't you judge him!!!

Taglist #1 @naina326 @1worm1 @yenayaps @shokosbunny @sukubusss @msniks @kittyyyyykats @nyxly1412 @trashsuarecan @dumbbunny98 @monster-effer @tojis-ball-sack @tangsakura @friesnkwtchup @lhhlver @attackonnat @moonchhu @mat-mat-mat @cherryjain17 @havkjhdecs @stargirl-mayaa @the-dark-creature @lulunx @saitamaswifey @spacefae-x @deitysdream @sorahatake @gojoscumslut @stainednailpolishremover @kidd3ath @clp-84 @rinkomei @catastayy @oneirataxiaa @inthedarkshadows000 @travistheaussie @cold-blooded-girls @emi311 @blublublubby @fluttershyfangs @actuallynarii @7thsthings @ilovemeni @erluu @for-hearthand-home @angellliqua @mai-505 @suguru-nugget @scorpiosugar

#strip club owner sukuna #sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #divider by cafekitsune #jjk smut #jjk x reader #stepdad kuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujustu kaisen #sukuna fluff

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skeltnwrites · 3 months ago

Text

At Least It’s Not the End of the World ♡

After protecting the kids from demodogs and sentient tunnel vines with Steve, a weekend babysitting Holly Wheeler together is supposed to be simple. That is until feelings neither of you expected start to make things way more complicated.

gn!reader, takes place in between seasons two and three, people who fight monsters together to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff 16k

── .✦

It doesn’t take long to remember why Holly is your favorite Wheeler. She’s patient and sweet, amazingly level-headed for a preschooler, and her manners could put some adults to shame. Compared to her siblings, Holly’s a little sweetheart. And a mama’s girl through and through, clinging to Mrs. Wheeler more often than not.

Like now, she wriggles in her mom’s lap, scrunched over a coloring book at the dinner table. She squints at her box of crayons and purses her lips— choosing colors is hard when you’re five. She hasn’t said a peep since you arrived, but in the foyer, she greeted you with a clumsy wave and a sheepish smile.

“It would be Friday afternoon to Monday morning,” Mrs. Wheeler explains, stirring a glass of lemonade with a curly straw. “I’d ask Nance but she’s having a girl's weekend.”

You glance at Steve. You know girl’s weekend is code for spending the night with Jonathan Byers. But if he knows it too, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at her words. In fact, he’s relaxed under Mrs. Wheeler’s gaze. He’s sitting in a chair he’s sat in dozens of times before, talking to a woman he sees more frequently than his own mother.

You don’t know her as well as he does, but you aren’t strangers by any means.

“And Mike, well, he’s not old enough to watch her for that long. But he’ll be staying over at Joyce’s so you don’t have to worry about him,” she pauses to sip her drink. “I’d pay you, of course. I don’t know what your schedules look like— I know you’re probably busy with the new job, Steve— but I figured since it’s a few days, I’d offer it to you both.”

Steve flashes an honest smile and leans forward. “Are you kidding? I’d hang with this squirt for free. I’m actually off this weekend so it works out.”

Mrs. Wheeler beams, eyes springing to yours.

“Yeah, I could help too,” you shrug. You also happen to be free this weekend and the extra cash would be nice.

“Great! You both are so lovely. Oh, I was so worried, I kept telling Ted– well, it doesn’t matter now.” Her bracelets clink and clash as she reaches across the table to cover your hand with hers. “You’ll have to keep an eye on these two. She becomes quite the riot when her Stevie comes over.”

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in defense. “She owes me a rematch at Candyland so I can’t promise anything.”

Mrs. Wheeler’s fingers retract from yours, landing on the end of Holly’s pigtail. “She’s really missed having you over. Asks about you still.”

Holly ducks her nose into her paper, pink traveling up her ears.

“Is that right?” Steve teases. “I’ll have to swing by more often.”

“Please. You’re welcome anytime, Steve. Whether Nancy’s here or not.” Her attention drifts to you. “And the same goes for you. Mike won’t stop talking about that comic book you gave him.”

A smug grin surfaces. Out of all of the kids, Mike is a tough one to please.

“I’ve never been away from Holly for so long. But I trust you guys.” Mrs. Wheeler pecks Holly’s crown to hide a wobbly smile, her sentence spilling out in a breathy string of words.

She really does trust you both. It would take another set of hands to count the number of times either you or Steve had driven her kids home safely. This is just different. She loves all of her kids equally, but Holly’s her baby.

Holly’s eyes cast up at her mention, bright as a sunlit gem.

Mrs. Wheeler smooths her daughter’s sleeves down her shoulders. “But Holly’s a good girl. Right, Hollybear?”

She turns to bury a toothy smile in her mother’s shirt.

Mrs. Wheeler is meticulous as she presents each and every detail of Holly’s routine. From car seat safety to emergency contacts to allergies, she covers every question you might have before you have it.

Steve’s a good listener but he’s cursed with a very short attention span. Mrs. Wheeler lost him somewhere around Holly’s sudden aversion to mac and cheese, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You’ll fill in the gaps for him later.

This won’t be the first time you’ve babysat with Steve. Dustin roped you both into hunting his pet lizard-turned-alien which very quickly escalated to protecting four children from not one, but several, vicious aliens. Safe to say you two are experienced enough to handle one kid for a couple of nights.

You haven’t seen Steve much since then. It’s summer now. The demodogs and sentient tunnel vines feel much more like a dream than something that actually happened to you these days. Steve works at the Scoops in Starcourt, or so you’ve heard several times– Dustin only reminds you about every time you see him. But despite being as close to death as you’ve ever been beside Steve, visiting him at work feels strangely wrong. Like crossing a line that neither of you ever drew.

You would not consider Steve Harrington your friend. You’re friendly, as you might be with a neighbor or coworker, but you don’t talk much outside of world-ending, portal-to-another-dimension kind of events. He’s family in a weird sort of way, bound by the shared trauma and unspoken loyalty— like someone you only see at family reunions, familiar enough to care about but still a stranger in most ways. High school was a long blur and your circle of friends couldn’t have been farther from his. So you don’t know Steve, not really. But of what little pieces of him you have come to know in the last year, he’s not half bad at babysitting.

ᯓ★

On Friday afternoon, you park your car beside Steve’s shiny BMW in the Wheeler’s driveway. You take the house key that had been slipped from Mrs. Wheeler’s key ring to yours and unlock the front door. And you find that inside, it’s completely silent. Holly’s quiet as a mouse but she’s still a kid and kids make noise.

Your bag drops onto the floor beside Steve’s shoes as you toe off your own. When the kitchen and living room turn up empty you jog upstairs. Alarm sinks in on the last step where you still hear nothing. No shouting, no laughing, no crying, no nothing.

There’s a large window in the hall upstairs, dividing Nancy’s room from Mike's and Holly’s. In your panic, you miss the suspicious lumps in the drapes that frame it.

As you brush by, Steve rips the curtain across the rod and shouts, “Ha! Gotch– Oh.”

Your entire body jerks, fear cinching every nerve. “Christ! Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Your nostrils flare with hot air as you shove him, “You scared me!”

His open palms hover in between your chests, unsure how to help. “I thought you were Holly. Sorry.” He gives you an apologetic once-over before a breathy chuckle escapes.

“It’s not funny. All the shit we’ve been through. God.” He’s lucky you didn’t punch him. A part of you still wants to.

“Mommy says that’s not a nice word,” Holly says from behind you.

You turn, shoulders sagging in relief. “I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.”

“Stevie, I was supposed to find you,” she whines incredulously, hands planted on her hips.

“We can go again. I’ll find a new spot.”

Her frown mends as quickly as it appeared and she skips back to her room to count.

“Sorry,” Steve reminds you. “Help me find a spot to hide?”

Soft eyes, a softer smile. It’s hard to stay mad when he looks at you like that. “Okay.”

Twenty seconds isn’t very long to hide. Especially when Holly counts as fast as she does and when you spend half of your time standing in the hall. So you end up crouched in the corner of Mike’s closet, Steve arched over you, trying his hardest not to crush your toes.

“Jesus. Does this kid even wash his clothes?” Steve whisper-shouts. “It smells like something died in here.” His palm snaps to the wall behind your head, the flesh of his arm warming your ear.

“You actually couldn’t have picked a worse place. Oh my God.” You press the neckline of your shirt over your nose. Steve’s wearing enough cologne to drown out the stench of dirty socks, though it’s choking you all the same.

“We had like three seconds. I panicked!”

You’re glaring at him but only a fraction of light filters in from underneath the door so you’d guess he doesn't see.

The closet is the first place Holly checks when she barges into Mike’s room, but you’ve never been happier to be caught so fast.

“My turn!” She glows in victory, pigtails swishing like yellow ribbons as she shouts.

Steve huffs. “Let’s take a break. We’ve been playing for like an hour.”

“Can we play tag?”

“In a little while. I’m tired.” He pinches her neck playfully until she squirms out of reach. “How’d you have all that energy?”

She shrugs with her whole body. “I dunno. I’m a kid.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat. When your eyes flit to Steve you find him already smiling at you.

“What about something a little more chill,” you suggest. “We could color?”

“Bracelets?”

“You want to make some?”

She nods, “I can’t reach them. The beads are on top of my closet.”

“I’ll get ‘em,” Steve offers. “Come show me where.”

You fan out her multitude of craft containers across the kitchen table. Beads, charms, strings, all neatly filed away. She pops open a lid and plunks down across from you. Steve takes the seat at the end in between.

“What color bracelet are you gonna make?” you ask, raking through the rainbow of options.

“Umm, yellow. No– green!”

“Nice. Here’s a cute little frog charm. Want that?”

“Mmmm. No, thank you.”

“I’ll take it,” Steve says, stretching his hand toward you.

You drop it in the center of his palm where it clinks against a handful of blue beads. They’re pretty and vibrant like the sea. A flicker of an idea pulls you to grab your own handful.

Holly slides four beads onto a string, two lime green and two baby pink. She drags the other end up and they all slip off, bouncing in separate directions across the table. You smack one before it dives onto the floor and Steve catches another two mid-air.

“Can you help me tie it?” Holly asks from under her chair, searching for the fourth.

“Sure.” Steve swaps his bracelet for hers, triple knotting one end. “I like these colors.”

She resurfaces with a grin, voice lilting as she speaks, “Do you like purple?”

“Yeah, purple’s okay. Do you?”

She nods, pinching a lilac gem and examining it.

You slip into a peaceful rhythm. The bead bin rattles as Steve digs his fingers in. He murmurs something about sparkles as he shuffles. Every now and then, you peek up at him. And each time, you find that he’s fully absorbed in this, rubbing his chin or poking his tongue out in concentration. You’d even bet he’s having fun.

“Can you tie it on me,” Holly asks when she finishes.

Steve takes her hand gently, fingers engulfing her tinier ones. “This good?” He tugs the strings across each other at her permission, sealing it with an extra knot for good measure.

Holly starts a second one as you finish your first. You hold it up triumphantly for them to see– red and blue beads between every white pearl.

“Very patriotic,” Steve teases.

“It’s for you. For scoops. These are the colors right?”

He softens, eyes rounding like brown buttons. “Wait, really? Thank you. Wow.” He inspects it fondly where you release it in his palm. “Will you tie it?” His arm shoots over to your side of the table.

You feel his gaze shift from the bracelet to your face as you lace it. And you pretend that it doesn’t make your cheeks burn.

“You don’t have to wear it to Scoops if you don’t want to,” you mumble, releasing his wrist.

“What? Of course, I’m wearing it. No one’s ever made me a bracelet before.”

Your lips bend up into your cheeks as he leans back in his seat. He twists and turns his arm, looking it over again with a similar expression. “Now, it was supposed to be a surprise, but since I’m almost done, I actually made this for you.” He scoops up the piece he’s been working on and waves it in front of you.

You cock an eyebrow and smirk. “You sure you didn’t just decide that since I gave you one.”

“I didn’t! I was planning this the whole time! Right Holly, didn’t I say that?”

“No?”

“Holly, come on now.” He elbows her arm. “Supposed to back me up.”

“But you didn’t,” she giggles.

“Holly doesn’t lie, Steve.”

“Okay, I didn’t say it. But I thought it. I was gonna give it to you I swear.” He jams another couple of beads on his string. “See! Look, it has your favorite color on there.”

“It has every color on there.”

“One of which is your favorite.”

You roll your eyes as he takes your wrist. His hands are warmer than yours, softer than you expect too. He stills as your palm flips face up. A jagged, fleshy ridge runs from the bottom of your pinky to the meat of your thumb. Steve was there when you got the scar. He’s never said it, but you know he blames himself for it. A demodog had you pinned in that damned junkyard school bus so Steve pushed you out of the way but you caught yourself on a broken window.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His head dips in a silent nod. He isn’t sure whether to believe you or not. Either way, he feels sorry still.

His bracelet is a statement piece for sure. It truly has every color under the sun and a random assortment of charms and shells. But it’s sweet that he gave it to you. Even if he totally did not plan to do so at first.

He makes a second bracelet for Holly with purple string and butterfly pendants. Holly gives her next one to him as thanks, then begins on a third for you.

Steve stands from the table. “I’m hungry. Grilled cheese okay for dinner Holly?” She nods as do you when he asks you the same.

Your focus drifts between him and the necklace you’re starting for Holly. He coasts around the kitchen naturally, like you imagine he would in his own house. But it’s a bizarre sight. Steve Harrington cooking you food, in the Wheeler’s kitchen out of all places.

And he’s about as good as a chef as you expect him to be. He’s clumsy and uncertain, even dropping a spatula on the floor with an, “Oh, shi–ugar…” But he kindly refuses to accept any help or advice when you offer.

He eventually swings around the kitchen island, brimming with pride, one plate in each hand. They’re set in the space you’ve cleared and you quickly see that the sandwiches have been cut adorably into stars. You just as quickly see– and smell– how burnt they are. They aren’t black, they’re edible for sure. But Holly’s five, and polite as she is, most kids would never willingly eat this.

So you aren’t surprised when she looks at it in disgust, borderline horror.

“Look, it’s a star,” Steve beams, oblivious.

Your chest aches with the desire to laugh and an equal pang of sympathy.

Holly shakes her head, visibly toning down her expression for his sake. “Can I have something else?”

“It’s good! I promise, just try it.”

She slowly shakes no again.

“Steve,” a peel of laughter escapes your lips. “It’s burnt.”

He scoffs. “It’s not that burnt.”

Your mouth twitches in a funny little line and your eyes leap between him and the plate. “It’s pretty burnt, Steve.”

After a moment of silence, he sighs and picks both plates back up.

“Wait,” you shout, “I’ll still eat mine! Mine isn’t that bad. You did a good job!”

He sulks at you. “You’re just saying that. I’ll make new ones.”

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll eat this one. I don’t mind.”

He plants the plate in your grabby hands and spins back toward the stove.

Round two is much better, still star-shaped, and a few shades lighter. Holly thanks him more than once while eating it without you even asking her to. If only Nancy and Mike were as precious as her. And Steve eats the first attempt, now cold, and admits that it tastes, “slightly burnt.”

You take the empty plates to the sink to wash while Steve and Holly lug the jewelry kits back upstairs. You meet them in Holly’s room after. They’re playing house, Steve the dad, and Holly the mom, with four babydolls for children. She appoints you to be the neighbor when you join.

You knock on her bedpost, pretending it’s her front door. “Holly, in one hour you’re gonna take a bath.”

Her head pops out from under the blanket. “Can we watch a movie before bed?”

“Sure, but we have to do bath now if you wanna watch the whole thing.”

“Okay!” She kicks the sheets away, jumping off the bed in a race to the bathroom. Steve winces as she steps on his hand.

“Do you need help?” he asks, sprawled across the bed, socked feet hanging over the edge.

“No, I got it. You can rest in peace now,” you joke, halfway through the door.

Holly is self-sufficient enough to bathe herself so all you have to do is supervise. You find a matching polka dot set of pajamas in her dresser and a towel under the bathroom sink. And she gets dry and dressed all by herself, Miss Independent.

“So there’s The Little Mermaid, E.T., Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory…” Steve trails off, kneeling in front of the entertainment center.

Holly hands him a VHS tape, “This one?”

“Ooh, good pick.” Steve feeds the tape into the player and rewinds it.

You pat the couch cushion beside yours as Holly skips over. Steve hits the light before flopping into the recliner with a satisfied groan. The Jungle Book glows to life on the TV, casting an indigo wash over each of your faces. Holly curls into herself, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them.

“Here,” Steve chucks a blanket from the basket at his side.

“Thanks.” You scoop it off the floor where it missed the couch and billow it out over you and Holly. “Don’t fall asleep, Harrington.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve folds one leg over the other and crosses his arms, eyes glued to the screen. He reminds you of Mr. Wheeler sitting in his recliner like that. It’s alarming how attractive you find it. He’s not even doing anything worth staring at. You force your eyes back on the TV.

The credits scroll up the screen for a whole minute before you realize the movie has ended. You aren’t asleep but you aren’t totally awake either. Steve’s not far off by the looks of it and Holly, on the other hand, was out like a light halfway through. Her head presses into your upper arm, her hand scrunched in the blanket on your thigh. The weight is nice, making it all the harder to pick yourself up and get her to bed.

But thankfully Steve’s there to help. He twists in his chair until his back clicks, smiling when he catches sight of you and Holly. “I’ll carry her up,” he whispers.

You gently work Holly’s stubborn fingers from the blanket as Steve stands. He pushes the rest of the fabric into your lap before bending to scoop Holly up.

“Be right back,” he says, starting toward the stairs.

You tug the blanket higher, seeking lost comfort in its folds, though it doesn’t compare to the warmth Holly provided.

Steve pads back down not a minute later. He stops on the last step, hanging over the railing. “You awake?”

“Barely,” you mumble.

Steve plods up to the front door to check the locks. He orbits into the kitchen and then back around to the living room to turn the TV off. He’s being the responsible one. You aren’t sure why this surprises you.

“Come on,” he opens his hand toward you.

Your arm snakes out from under the blanket, and he lifts you effortlessly. You’ve seen how strong he is, how he fights, but it still surprises you.

“I was gonna suggest another movie but I don’t think either of us’ll make it.”

You catch a yawn from Steve. “I know. I’m so tired. It’s not even late.”

He hums from behind you on the stairs. “Yeah. Who knew this’d be so exhausting.” He’s only being slightly sarcastic. There’s an obvious truth to what he implied, but at the same time, it is so much harder than you realized it would be.

You stop at the landing, sluggishly turning to face Steve. “Well, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight.”

You splinter into opposite ends of the hall. Steve let you have Nancy’s room for obvious reasons, though he wasn’t thrilled about crashing in Mike’s bed. He’s probably better off on the couch after seeing the kid’s closet.

You change into cozier clothes and untuck Nancy’s quilt. Like with Steve, you and Nancy aren’t really friends. It’s strange being in her room, settling into her bed. And it’s almost stranger that Steve is sleeping across the hall. Yet, there’s an odd comfort in it— being surrounded by people who went through the same thing you did.

ᯓ★

There’s thumping in the hall– footsteps, too light to be Steve’s. You fight the urge to go back to sleep. Holly needs a babysitter. But it’s not an easy feat, not when you’re swaddled like a baby in blankets much softer than the ones you have at home. You’re warm and it’s so quiet it feels like a gift; that is, until you remind yourself that kids and quiet don’t usually go hand and hand. She could be answering the door to a stranger, scaling the counters, setting the kitchen on fire, the possibilities are endless.

You force your heavy eyes open and flinch as a much brighter pair come into focus.

Holly bends over you with this innocent endearment you cannot possibly be mad to be woken by. “Told you, Stevie,” she says.

“No, you woke ‘em up, goofball.” Steve lingers at the foot of the bed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a faded Olympics tee. You’ve never seen him in pajamas before, or anything quite like it.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and rub your eyes for a better look.

“Sorry,” he supplies. His voice is still raspy with sleep and his oh-so-perfect hair shoots up in wild peaks. The sight makes your chest buzz. “She said you had to get up to.”

You redirect your attention to Holly, pinching the neckline of your shirt back over your shoulder as you sit up.

“Can we have eggs?” she asks you.

“Sure.”

She traps her lip between her two frontmost baby teeth. “Five?”

“Five eggs!” Steve chides. “Just for you?”

She turns to nod at him, smile blooming.

He wears the same joy, ruffling her already unruly bed-head. “What are you a linebacker?”

She giggles, clueless as to what he’s talking about.

“Let’s start with two and if you’re still hungry you can have more,” you compromise.

You are undeniably a better cook than Steve, but the bar is low after yesterday. You serve scrambled eggs and unburnt toast. Holly looks at her plate like she hasn’t been fed a day in her life and she shovels spoonfuls of it in her mouth like it’s her last meal.

Steve watches her with an anxious frown. “Smaller bites, Holl.”

She nods but doesn’t exactly slow her pace. Steve chases your eyes, knocking your ankle with his when you don’t look. He gives you that funny face parents make. Help me out.

You shrug. “It’s just eggs. Babies eat eggs.”

He cycles through several emotions—frustration that you won’t back him up, disbelief that babies eat eggs, and a lingering fear that she might choke. But he stops himself from asking all the what-ifs, he trusts you.

Holly swallows half of her glass of chocolate milk in one go. Steve looks mildly horrified.

“My God. She’s like a little human vacuum,” he mumbles through a mouthful of toast.

You snort into your glass. If Holly heard him, she’s too preoccupied to care.

After breakfast, Steve sets her up in front of the TV to watch cartoons while you clear the table. He disappears into the basement in search of a board game but comes back with some deflated, plastic thing.

“What happened to the board game?” you ask. “What even is that?”

“It’s a kiddie pool. Let’s go outside. It’s nice out.”

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“Me neither. Just wear that.”

You wrinkle your nose down at your pajamas. “Go see if she wants to.”

He smiles, retreating back into the living room. Shortly after, he shouts, “She said yes!” Footsteps pound up the stairs, followed by a second shout, “Don’t run!”

Mrs. Wheeler calls the house phone and is pleased to hear your good report. She reminds you several times to apply sunscreen to Holly’s ears and that there’s an extra can in the upstairs bathroom. You wrangle Holly over to put her on and promise to call back before bedtime when she refuses to hang up.

You sift through your bag, changing into the closest thing to swimwear. Steve takes forever in the bathroom, which doesn’t surprise you one bit. He comes out in a crisp white tee, way too expensive-looking for a pool day, and a pair of red gym shorts.

“What are you, the lifeguard?” you joke.

His hands snap to his hips. “Uhh, I’ll have you know I’ve been a certified lifeguard for two years, so yeah, actually.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him for the extra can of sunscreen. “Are you ready? Holly’s waiting.”

“Yeah. Let me go blow up the pool. I’ll be outside.”

You fix your hair in the mirror and tuck a few towels under your arm before heading downstairs. Holly’s already outside, criss-crossed in a big lawn chair and watching Steve with incredible boredom. He stands barefoot in the grass, the deflated pool pressed against his chest. He pulls away from the air valve when he notices you, quickly capping it with his thumb.

“You okay?” you ask, laughing lightly.

He nods, red-cheeked and breathless. “Think there’s a hole in it. Been blowin’ for like five minutes.”

“Huh,” you drop the towels and take one end of the limp plastic. “Try again.”

He funnels more air inside, it dispurses evenly underneath your palm. You don’t hear any air wheezing out so you turn it over for further inspection.

“Oh, Steve. Here, look.”

He pops his mouth off and follows your pointer finger. A second valve at the bottom, unhinged and releasing his hard work steadily.

“Oh, you’re kidding me. Why’d they put one under there?”

You shrug, plugging it back up. “Holly, let’s get some sunscreen on so your mom doesn’t kill us.”

Holly hops off the chair and skips to your side. You mist her skin in several layers, lathering a generous amount over her ears. When you move onto yourself, she grabs her basket of toys and climbs into the dry inflatable. Steve retrieves the hose and releases a cool stream into the pool, splashing Holly’s feet.

She squeals and scoots back. “Cold!”

Steve’s thumb eclipses the opening so the water bursts out in wide a fan. He trains it at Holly, spraying her until she’s soaked and screaming.

He’s giggling in a way you’ve never heard. Genuine, open-mouthed reels of laughter. You hate to admit it, but it’s really cute. So infectious you can’t help but join.

He glances back for your reaction, pleasantly satisfied. And your smile incites a great idea. He swings the hose around, aiming it straight at you.

“Steve!” Your arms shoot out to block the attack but it’s no use.

“What?” he says, the epitome of innocence.

Your eyes narrow but a smirk prevails. “Oh, you–”

Holly tackles the back of his thigh with a scream. Steve stumbles forward and the hose slips from his grasp.

You lunge for it before he even realizes what happened. And by the time he does, he’s already drenched. “Payback!” You laugh maniacally as he combs his hair out of his eyes.

He’s laughing too, bent at the waist, still shaking his surprise. But only until he catches your gaze– then comes the glint of something playful, almost daring.

Steve barrels straight through the spray like a bull. He chokes your fingers over the nozzle, bending and bending the line until the water pours straight down your head.

Holly dashes behind you to wrangle the wiggly tail of the hose, squealing at every layer of mist she catches.

You and Steve wrestle with it, his hand on your hip, yours pushing his shoulder. He’s gentle but still strong. And his touch sears through the cold water, your skin tingling in his wake.

The second he sticks the end down the back of your shirt you scream. “Okay, okay! I surrender!”

He crimps the hose with one hand, smirking deviously.

“I surrender,” you repeat, heaving through your laughter.

Holly drops her end of the hose, backing up one slow step at a time.

“Truce?”

“Truce,” you nod, stepping up cautiously to shake his hand.

He accepts your hand, using it to yank you closer and blast you again. You chase and dodge and tackle each other under the blazing sun until your legs feel like jelly. But the game eventually slows as exhaustion creeps in.

You and Steve collapse in the lawn chairs while Holly lays belly-down in the pool. Water sloshes over the rim onto your toes as she kicks, a brief reprieve from the sticky heat. You're relaxed, but your mind wanders. You keep hoping the Wheelers won’t notice the sudden increase in their water bill.

“Dustin talks about you all the time.”

You tear your eyes away from Holly, blinking back into reality as you face Steve. “What?”

“Dustin, he talks about you all the time. Kid loves you.”

“Oh. He’s a sweet kid. Talks about you too. Keeps telling me to come see you at Scoops.”

Steve chuckles, more of a half-hearted puff of amusement than a real one.

“Which, I’m sorry I haven’t, by the way,” you confess.

His eyebrows jump, lips parting in soft surprise. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. He’s just being Dustin.”

You press a blade of grass flat under your heel, as if the right words might sprout from the dirt. “I dunno. I mean, don’t you think it’s kinda weird that we don’t like talk? After everything?”

The words bounce around Steve’s head for a minute. He fixates on your choice of weird. Weird, like bad? Weird like you want to talk? He can’t decide. And he’s afraid if he opens his mouth, the wrong words will tumble out.

But he tries anyway, “Honestly, I thought you didn’t want to be friends. You were just so… distant after.”

You rub the length of your arm, lips creasing into a frown. “Sorry, I was just. I don’t even know. Rattled, I guess.”

“Yeah, rabid dogs with faces that split open and try to eat you tend to have that effect.”

Your frown melts, little by little.

“But we should’ve been there for you more. It was a hard time for everybody.”

His apology echoes in your mind, the ache like a weight on your chest.

“You could visit if you wanted to. At scoops. I could get you ice cream for free.”

But the ache doesn’t stand a chance against the way he makes you feel.

“Okay.” Your cheeks round with a sincere smile. “I’d like that.”

He turns his head, as if to hide, but you still catch an echo of your own expression. Your eyes flicker across the contours of his profile, following the graceful line from his ear to his collar, before drifting over the sculpted shape of his arms and the long expanse of his thighs. Steve Harrington is objectively attractive. This isn’t the first time you’ve thought so. But it is the first time that fact makes your head spin.

Maybe it’s the heat. The sun feels like it's roasting you alive, and Steve’s attractiveness certainly isn't helping. You’re feeling strange, thinking crazy things– the kind of thoughts that only come when you’re on the verge of heat stroke certainly.

You stand abruptly and the grass sways underneath your feet. But you get your bearings before anyone notices. “Holly, can I come sit in the pool?”

Her eyes pop up, grin distorted underneath the water. She props her elbow up and rests her cheek in the palm of her hand. “What’s the password?”

“Umm, can you give me a hint?”

A high-pitched hum. “Okay. She’s my favorite character.”

“Uhh, Barbie?”

“Nooo.”

“Strawberry Shortcake?”

“Nooo.”

“Hello Kitty?”

“You’re really bad at this,” she giggles. It would be really cute if you weren’t possibly dying right now.

“It’s Care Bears,” Steve interjects, snapping his fingers. “Uhh, the yellow one. Umm, Funshine!”

“Yes!” Holly glows like the sun on Funshine herself. “Stevie can come in.”

Steve stands but he doesn’t get in. “Come on, Holl. It’s hot.”

“There’s a new password.”

“Okay, okay. Can I have another hint?” you ask.

Her tongue curls out to lick the sweat off her lip. “My favorite color.”

“Purple?”

“Yes,” she nods and sits up. “But I really like yellow and blue and pink too.”

You sink into the water, unsure if there was ever a wrong answer. It’s shallow and lukewarm, barely grazing the tops of your thighs, but it’s enough to cool the sun off your skin. Steve follows, and the space tightens awkwardly— the inflatable wasn’t built for three. His knee brushes yours while Holly’s toes nudge your foot, but neither of them seems to mind.

You cup water up to your cheeks and pour it down your arms.

“Better?” Steve asks, a droll little pinch to his features.

He’s staring at you which is definitely not helping but you nod anyway.

“Why don’t we move to the shade?” He stands before you or Holly agrees, offering his hand to pull you up.

She races Steve to the nearest tree, though he doesn't stand much of a chance dragging the pool behind him. He refills it with fresh water and encourages Holly to splash you gently while he runs inside to make lunch. By the time he returns, you’re feeling much more yourself.

“Bon Appétit,” Steve announces, lowering himself slowly onto a towel. He carries three animal-shaped plates stocked with fruit and PB&Js, one in each hand, another balanced on his forearm.

Holly scrambles out of the water, plopping onto the other end of his towel. You get out too, shaking a second one out to lay beside theirs.

“Lion or hippo?” he asks Holly.

She hums for a long time, inspecting each plate meticulously before pointing to the lion.

“Good choice.” He sets the plate in front of her crossed legs and passes you the hippo. Steve takes the polar bear for himself, which notably only has half a sandwich.

“Where’s the other half?” you ask.

He takes a large bite, pressing his hand to his mouth to reply, “Ran out of bread.”

“Here.” You rip one of your halves in half.

“Thanks,” he says, syllables tangling as he chews.

Holly watches the interaction fondly before pulling apart her own sandwich. It splits in a jagged line, mostly crust on one half. But happily, she thrusts the bigger piece toward Steve, jelly dribbling down her little fist.

He tilts his head, a growing smile mirroring yours. “You eat it. I have enough now.”

She crinkles her nose. “You eat it!”

“No, you!” He squeezes her slim bicep. “You need to get big and strong.”

“What about you?”

“I’m already big and strong.”

She considers this, giving him an obvious once-over that makes you laugh. “Trade?”

“Okay, trade.” Steve chuckles, exchanging one of his halves for hers. He licks a stripe across his knuckle where her sticky fingers brushed his. It’s as innocent as the gesture can be but something about it has your cheeks burning in a way the sun couldn’t.

Conversation tapers off, replaced with an easy quiet. Your stomach is satisfied with the food, but it’s your heart that feels the most nourished, steeped in the comfort of good company. You hadn’t expected to enjoy hanging out with Steve or Holly this much.

Holly slouches into your arm, stretching her legs across the grass like a bridge between the towels. Her heels push into the pudge of Steve’s thigh, the faintest smirk crossing her lips.

He squeezes her ankle until it darts away.

Gradually, she presses again and in turn, he squeezes, but this time he doesn’t let go. She squeals as he drags her down your side. But all hell breaks loose when he starts tickling the bottom of her foot.

She shrieks, thrashing and squirming against his hold, giggling in between gasps. “Ste–vie!” she cries.

Her laugh is too pure of a sound to be real, Steve thinks. His resolve crumbles, grip faltering. And Holly’s heel slams smack into his jaw. Steve winces, bending away to cradle his cheek.

You straighten up. “You okay? Let me see.”

Holly’s legs go limp in the grass, her shoulders tense in your lap.

Steve’s hand slackens unveiling a red splotch not much darker than his sunburnt cheeks. He meets your eyes with a dismissive shake, “It’s okay.”

You believe him. It doesn’t look nearly awful enough to make your concern stick. And his face has been through worse. Billy Hargrove painting his fists red with Steve’s blood is one of the things you remember most about that night.

His attention dips down to Holly. She sniffles, eyes glistening in the sunlight with a frown nearly reaching her chin.

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Holl.”

Holly putters, whimpers drowning the edges of her words. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! I promise! It doesn’t even hurt,” he reassures, cupping her kneecap.

You tug her off the ground and she sinks into your arms naturally. Hot tears pave a path down your neck only to dissolve in the fabric of your shirt. You coax her sobs out, one back rub at a time.

Steve waits until she settles with this pitiful look on his face. “I know you didn’t mean to Hollybear. Just an accident. Hmm?”

She nods against your chin.

He strokes the back of her arm, fingers grazing yours where they work. “Please don’t cry.”

Holly sniffles.

“You know what might help me feel better?” She lifts a sweaty cheek off your chest as Steve opens his arms. “A hug.”

She pushes out of your hands into his. He holds her tight, providing one loving squeeze after another.

This is not how you pictured Steve to be under normal babysitting circumstances. A voice like sweet honey, eyes warm like the sun. He’s very soft, and so undeniably kind. And not just to Holly, but also you.

Steve hooks the spare towel closer, draping it across her back. “Lean back,” he tells her.

She avoids his gaze as she does, tears melting away under his touch.

“You know what I think?” He cinches the towel at her collar like a cloak.

She hums.

“I think we should have popsicles for dessert.”

Holly meets his eyes then, excitement glimmering underneath the droop of lingering guilt.

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” she admits meekly.

A smirk thins his lips. “I dunno though. What if we get a tummy ache?” He pokes her belly through the towel. “Maybe it’s not–”

“No– I want one!”

“I dunnooo,” he sings.

“Please, Stevie! You already said.”

“How bad do you want it? Like this much?” He pinches his fingers together, leaving the slightest gap between them.

“No, no!” She shakes her head, casting her arms out as far as they’ll go. “This much!”

He sighs loudly, shoulders sagging for the dramatic touch. “Okay.”

Holly’s arms curl around his neck as he stands. He’s more than happy to carry her, but the added weight makes him groan.

You trail behind automatically, half enjoying the show and just as excited for a treat. Steve pins the back door open with his foot, returning a smile you hadn’t realized you were sharing. Your cheeks are starting to protest, sore with overwhelming happiness.

“What color do you want?”

“Pink! Pink!” Holly shouts in his ear, loud enough to make you wince. But Steve doesn’t react in the slightest to her volume. You’d all taken a piece of the Upside Down with you after El sealed it up. And just when you seemed to forget it, you’d be reminded in the form of scars, nightmares, headaches, and in Steve’s case, hearing loss.

He opens the freezer, Holly propped on his hip. She’s far too big to be carried like that comfortably but he does it anyway.

“Pink for Holly. Red for Steve.” He leans back to find your face. “For you?”

You purse your lips, “Surprise me.”

Steve stows Holly on the countertop so he can snip the plastic tips. She receives her popsicle first, then you, and finally Steve.

“Matching,” Holly observes as you sit beside them on the couch.

Steve crosses his popsicle over your identically red one when you raise an eyebrow. “Look at that,” he says.

She hums, gnawing on the plastic wrapper. Steve pushes the ice up for her and thumbs away the dribble at the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t seem to notice, but it catches you off guard. Steve’s such a natural at this you almost can’t believe he’s an only child.

You turn the TV on to an episode of Care Bears as Holly slumps into Steve’s chest, slurping the last of her slush loudly.

“Sleepy?” you ask when she kneads her eyes.

“No.”

You chuckle, combing her frizz back. “Okay.”

“You know, it’s okay if you are sleepy,” Steve mentions, equally amused.

“I know. I’m not.” Her tone is casual, a portrait of nonchalance, despite the yawn that slips out afterward.

You and Steve exchange a look of mutual fondness.

“I’m pretty tired,” Steve declares, reclining into the cushions with a fake yawn. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

Holly twists against him to watch. It doesn’t take long for her little fingers to poke and prod his lashline.

He peels one eye open, playfully cocking an eyebrow.

She giggles and pinches the skin closed.

You’re trapped between nervously supervising she doesn’t poke his eye out and leaving to get a baby wipe for her hands which you imagine are very sticky with popsicle juice. Either way, you’ll be surprised if Steve doesn’t have pink eye by morning.

“I’m sleeping,” he whines and headbutts her palm gently.

“Nooo,” she whines back, wedging her hand across his mouth. Delirium is setting in, a nap is imminent.

Steve opens his eyes, giddy just the same. “Okay. You got me.”

Holly frees his mouth to swipe a streak of red from his chin. Her tongue pokes out in prime concentration.

A staggered laugh of disbelief is shaken from Steve’s chest. He hadn’t expected Holly to be difficult, but she’s been nothing short of delightful. She’s sweeter than Mike and Nancy combined and smarter than he thought kids her age could be. For a self-indulgent second, he hopes that his kids will turn out something like her.

Holly reels back around to lay on her side, eyelids sagging with an inevitable heaviness. Steve draws the towel up to her chin, fixing his palm to her back. You watch her drift off, eyes slipping up every so often.

When you’re positive she’s out, you cautiously dislodge the popsicle wrapper from her fingers. Steve passes his as you stand.

One of the many hard things about kids is all the cleaning. Holly’s as neat as a five-year-old gets, and still, every moment of peace is an opportunity spent putting things back where they belong. You head outside to tip the pool over and collect stray towels and toys that didn’t make it back in.

By the time you return, Steve’s passed out, mouth ajar, head craned back against the couch. It’s not a particularly attractive expression– he’d probably be embarrassed to wake to your staring– but you can’t find anything other than endearment in yourself.

You shower and change into fresh clothes and end up on the opposite couch to watch TV. But Care Bears isn’t all that entertaining anymore so you rest your eyes for just a second.

A second turns to several and when you reopen your eyes you discover the clock is two hours ahead of where it was before.

The silence is only comforting for a fleeting moment before anxiety creeps in. Your eyes flick from the TV, now powered off, to the other couch where Steve and Holly are not where you left them. Nor are they in the dining room, kitchen, basement, or backyard. You take the stairs two steps at a time and nearly trip over a blanket strewn across the banister when Holly screams.

You’d have kicked her door off the hinges if it came to it but are thankful it’s already open. Holly is perfectly safe, bent over the remnants of what you assume was a pillow fort.

You release a breath caught in your throat and sag against the doorframe. Steve offers an apologetic smile when he notices.

Holly glances over but quickly returns to their game. “You’ve destroyed my kingdom!” she shouts, drilling a finger into Steve’s chest. “Off with your head!”

You’re too stunned to laugh, but a noise of confusion skips out. Steve gawks at Holly in pretend despair, scrubbing any seeping amusement off his lips with the back of his hand. He’s dressed in sweats, Holly in a princess dress. But more importantly, his face has been caked in makeup and his hair twisted into two fluffy knots.

“You!” Holly yells with a scowl aimed at you. “Hold him down!”

Steve pleads at your ankles, pressing his forehead to the carpet in prayer. It takes every ounce of you not to break character and laugh. There’s something so surreal about Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in sparkly eyeshadow, kneeling before a little girl to beg for his life. It’s hilarious as it is heartwarming.

“If I may propose a suggestion!” You counter, equally dramatic. “A trade! For this silly man’s life, we will help rebuild your kingdom twice as big! Princess I–”

“Queen!”

Steve snorts but she must miss it.

“My apologies. Queen Holly, I can assure you this new Kingdom will have all of the finest luxuries that royalty like yourself might desire.”

She takes a second to process the big words. “Fine!” She sneers, diving onto her mattress which is absent of all its sheets and blankets. “Chop! Chop!”

You bite your lip, chasing the fervent smile away. Steve gets right to work, sorting pillows from most to least sturdy. You steal another chair from Nancy’s desk and help Steve double-knot the roof to it. It’s no mansion, but it is long enough for Steve to lie down in, which is a job well done in your book. Especially when you’re under strict supervision and listening to a thread of loud critiques.

You lift the door flap for Holly to crawl through. “Your quarters, Your Grace.”

She glances over her shoulder with a wicked, but mostly adorable, expression. “My name is not Grace! It’s Holly! Queen Holly to you!”

The explanation dies on your tongue because how can you possibly argue with that? You’re just grateful to still have your head.

After the grand tour, Queen Holly disappears into one of the tent’s offshoots with a handful of stuffed animals she's referring to as her royal guards.

Steve scoots closer, whispering behind his hand, “I think we need to stage a coup.”

You lean into his good ear, affection spilling off your tone, “I didn’t know she could be so mean.”

“Me neither! She must be hanging out with Mike.”

“Must be.” You grin for what feels like the millionth time today.

You’re sitting knee to knee, close enough to catch the heat of Steve’s breath on your cheek. You drag the pad of your finger across his cheekbone where teal eyeshadow has been caked on in several layers. “I like this,” you compliment.

I kinda forgot she put that on.” He ducks his head bashfully, peeking up through his eyelashes. “Do I look pretty?”

“The prettiest.”

He receives it as teasing, but it’s true, you do think Steve is pretty. A strong nose, kind eyes, and sure, maybe the hair. But now that you’re inches apart, you notice twin smile lines, a series of freckles down his cheek, and a faded scar across his forehead. You linger there more than anywhere else, under the guise of judging Holly’s makeup job, of course.

But the silence twists into something less comfortable with each passing second. A brief twitch of emotion flickers across Steve’s face, gone before you can name it. “So… pizza for dinner?” he blurts out.

Before you’ve processed what happened, Holly shouts, “Cheese please!”

Steve splinters from your gaze, calling back, “Yes, My Queen.”

Dinner is pleasantly easy. The pizza’s delivered and paper plates save you from the hassle of dishes after. You eat at the kitchen table, sharing stories and smiles, strangely like a family.

And after dinner, Holly has a bath; and after bath, Steve whisks her off to bed. You’re left to your own devices for once, a benevolent bout of peace, but still, you can’t seem to relax.

The spray of the bathroom light paves the hall leading to Holly’s room. You tiptoe up to the door and peek inside.

Steve’s on the floor, slouched against the side of the bed cradling Holly to his chest. He flinches as your shadow veers across the moonlit wall.

“Sorry,” you whisper, dropping onto your knees beside them.

Holly picks her head up, tear tracks shimmering as she turns. Her lip wobbles through a whimper.

You soften like wax near a flame, eyes flitting to Steve who looks equally at a loss.

She curls her knees into his tummy in a way that probably hurts. The poor thing dissolves into fresh tears, spilling out faster than Steve can chase away.

“Holls, it’s okay, honey. Me and Stevie are here, okay?”

She strains to speak through a chain of gasps, “I want my Mommy!”

“I know, I know. She’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” you steer sweat-slick hair behind her ear.

“I want her now.”

“We’ve got ya, Holl,” Steve chimes in.

“We’re right here.”

“No– Mommy!”

It goes like this for a while, soothing reassurances met with unyielding resolve. Holly’s not one to be stubborn for no reason. She’s so exhausted and upset it breaks your heart. You try reading and music and back rubs but there seems to be no end to her sobbing.

Steve strokes her ankle where it’s now tucked underneath her in your lap. He looks exhausted– hair draped over his forehead like a claw, extra weight embedded in each of his eyelids. You’re both at your breaking point. “You wanna sleep with me tonight Hollybear?” he says in a tone gentler than you’ve ever heard.

“No. Mommy,” she persists.

“You can sleep with her when she gets back. But tonight you get to have a sleepover with Steve. Or you can even sleep with me in Nancy’s bed, okay?”

Red-rimmed eyes flick between you and Steve. Neither option is as good as Mom.

“Both,” Holly whines.

“Wanna lay with both of us?”

She nods. “In the middle.”

“Okay,” you turn to Steve. “We can do that.” Your words are colored like a question but he’s already nodding his answer.

He shovels Holly from your lap, cheek pressing into hers in an unspoken exchange of relief. “Alright, munchkin. Let’s go steal Nancy’s big bed. Sound good?”

She hums her approval into his ear.

Steve pokes Nancy’s door open with his foot, swinging around to the tucked side of the bed. You crawl across your end as Holly slides off his chest. She molds herself against your shoulder, tugging Steve closer when he settles.

“Goodnight, Hollybear,” he says.

She steals your hand from underneath the comforter, then his where it lies on the sheet. Your knuckles brush Steve’s where they are stapled to her chest. “Goodnight,” she sighs.

Steve strokes up and down the back of her hand, his touch a quiet catalyst. She’s asleep in mere minutes, snoring softly, fingers limp against yours.

Steve nudges your hand where it’s already pressed to his, whispering when you turn, “Am I crazy that I find all of this kinda fun?”

You shake your head, a smile working its way across your lips. “Guess that would make me crazy too.”

“I know I always complain about driving those little shits around but Holly’s actually really fun to babysit.”

“Yeah, she is. At least it’s not the end of the world this time, right?”

“Yeah, that probably helps, huh?” Amusement ebbs into a sigh. “I’m kinda dreading going home, to be honest.”

“Why don’t we put Mike in a wig? Kidnap Holly for ourselves.”

He snorts into his pillow. “Oh, yeah. That’ll work. ‘Yeah, I dunno Mrs. Wheeler, she had a crazy growth spurt while you were gone.’”

“We’d take good care of her.”

“We would,” he nods. “You’re really good with her.”

“So are you. Kinda surprised me actually.”

“Really? Cause Dustin tells me weekly I’d make a good mother.”

“Yeah, but they’re different. Older. And don’t get me wrong, you’re great with them and they love hanging out with you. Holly’s just little. You’re so much gentler with her, and like, you always seem to know what to do.”

“For the record, I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Me neither. I don't know what Mrs. Wheeler was thinking asking us to do this.”

Intertwined laughter fades, but something else— something similar— lingers. An almost tangible buzz of energy, as if the silence itself is alive with unspoken words. You entertain the idea that the feeling’s not exclusive to just you. That Steve hears the same jitter in his pulse and feels the same flutter against his ribs. That you aren’t alone to be feeling such a way.

“Is it–”

“Are we–”

“Sorry, you go,” he jabbers out.

The words trickle back down your throat, too thick to cross your tongue again. “You can probably go now,” you decide.

His gaze jumps to Holly’s chest where his hand is still coupled with one of hers.

“If you want,” you amend. “You don’t have to.”

“You don't mind? If I stayed?”

You shake your head.

“Just worried she’ll wake up if I move.”

You try to flatten your excitement as you reply, “You can stay.”

His gaze swims with yours across Nancy's room, skimming over the cluttered dresser, the desk strewn with books and pens, to the shuttered closet doors.

“Sorry about– you know– I heard Nancy… dumped you,” you say, immediately regretting the awkward phrasing.

“Harsh,” he squints and casts you a bittersweet grin. “But true.”

“Is it… weird? To be in here?”

“A little. But not as much as I thought it would be. Hell of a lot better than Mike’s room.”

You hum, watching the gentle shift in his brows.

“Is it weird for you?”

“Me?” you ask. “In what way?”

“You and Nance. You don’t always see eye to eye.”

“I mean, yeah. When our decisions involve risking our lives– or the kids– she’s pretty damn impulsive. And she can be real stubborn and selfish sometimes too. But I dunno, I still love her. She’s been sort of like a sister since everything started. I think that’s why we argue.”

“What does that make me? Your brother?”

You roll your eyes. “No, you’re the stray dog we adopted.”

“Okay. That’s just mean.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Your laugh laps out louder than you intend, but Holly remains still. “I dunno who you’d be. The love interest?”

“I can work with that, sexy love interest–”

You scoff. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Harrington.”

“Okay, okay. But love interest because…”

“Cause you dated Nance.”

“Oh,” he exhales.

“You don’t agree? Should we go back to stray dog?”

“Oh, shut up. I’m going to bed.” Steve rolls onto his side with a sigh.

“Keep your snoring to a minimum, please.”

He grumbles, narrowing his eyes at your smirk. “I don’t snore.”

“You do. I could hear it from here last night.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you argue. “It definitely wasn’t Holly.”

“Whatever. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Only when your eyes are closed does his smile finally emerge. It’s silly how quickly you can pull it out of him. It throws him for a loop every time. But with you at his side, maybe he’ll dream of happier things for once. Either way, it’s easier to fall asleep, just knowing you’re there falling asleep too.

ᯓ★

“Shhhh!”

“No, you shhhh,” a lighter voice giggles.

“Holly,” Steve scolds, mirth buttering his tone. You know he’s smiling by the sound alone.

Holly’s laughter triples in volume but then is abruptly muffled.

“Ew– did you just lick me?”

And this all just sounds way too cute to miss out on. You pry your lashes apart, still sticky with sleep, and flip on your side to face them.

They freeze, eyes widening adorably in sync. Steve is reclined against the headboard, an arm bent behind his neck. Holly is sprawled halfway across his tummy, toes tickling your side.

“Sorry,” he offers like you’d be mad. But how could you possibly be anything but enamored waking up to their giggly little voices? If you could be woken up like this every day, you would.

You shake your head, scratching underneath your eyes. The walls are bathed in muted colors, waiting to be warmed by the sunrise. It’s still early.

Holly rolls off of Steve onto the floor and barrels out of the room.

“Where are you going?” he shouts.

“Potty!”

Steve turns to you, eyes roving across your bedhead for an embarrassingly long amount of time. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Did she kick you last night?”

You rake your fingers through your hair, quickly moving them to your lips to stifle a yawn. “Not that I remember.”

“Oh, you’d remember. Trust me. She was on top of me the whole night.” He’s smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t sound annoyed about it if he tried.

“Aww, she loves you,” you coo.

“Yeah,” he agrees, pink dusting his cheeks, “I can’t wait to do this.”

“Hmm?”

“Settle down. Have a family. I wasn’t, like, a hundred percent sure before, but I am now.”

“You’ll be a good dad.”

He beams at you like he’s just won the lottery. “You think?”

“For sure.” And he really would. You’re sure of it after last night.

He opens his mouth to speak but your stomach cuts him off with an obnoxious growl. “Hungry?” Steve chuckles.

“Shut up.” You swipe your pillow and smack him.

He smacks you back, pulling it to his chest before you can steal it. “Wanna go out for breakfast?”

Your brain short circuits. You forget you’re babysitting and not just laying in bed with Steve Harrington for fun. He is not asking you on a date like your heart assumes.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. For sure,” you sputter out, heat licking up the back of your neck.

“I’ll go see what she wants,” he slides onto the floor and shakes his legs awake.

Steve’s tall, even sluggishly slumped over. But even more so as he stretches– arms rising with his shirt, revealing a fraction of golden skin above his waistband. A long, lazy moan climbs out of his chest.

You push the comforter off before you burst into flames.

Holly determines she wants IHOP because they put chocolate chips and sprinkles on the pancakes. Steve supplies her with an outfit and wrestles her hair into pigtails with bows to match her skirt. It’s surprisingly coordinated and admittedly cute, but maybe you’re wrong to be so surprised– he knows his way around a comb and a closet.

“Can I get pancakes?” she asks Steve, perched on the bottom step of the stairs.

He’s cross-legged on the floor, hunched over to lace her sneakers. “I already told you yes, silly goose.”

“Can I get extra sprinkles?”

“Uhh, does your mom let you?”

She thinks about it before answering. “Yes, I think so.”

“Sure, then.” He grins, clapping her tied shoes together before standing.

You shoulder Holly’s bag, stuffed with books and toys and a jacket in case it rains, courtesy of Steve who insisted she might need it. “Ready?” you ask him.

Steve races Holly to the car while you lock up. Mrs. Wheeler installed Holly’s car seat in Steve’s beamer before she left but you’ve yet to use it.

“It’s too tight,” Holly whines from the car, loud enough to hear from the top of the driveway.

“I know, ‘m working on it,” Steve assures, working his fingers under the straps. “Just gotta figure it out.”

“Hurry!”

“I’m hurrying, Holl. Give me a sec’.”

You open the passenger door and peek around the headrest to view her. The belts are buckled but not tight enough to spark concern. “He’s going as fast as he can, Holly. Be patient.”

She squirms under his hands, exhaling sharply. And like her, Steve’s frustration mounts, jaw tightening, brow furrowing. His fingers keep slipping and he’s not totally sure which button or strap is for loosening.

You swing around to Holly’s door and cup Steve’s shoulder. “Let me try.”

He knocks his head on the roof as he pulls out.

You wince, “Okay?”

He softens as you reach for his neck, though your fingers never land. Still, the tender look you offer is enough to cure any bumps or bruises he might’ve gotten.

It’s an unfortunate amount of trial and error before Holly is fastened in properly. Steve cranks the AC on full blast when you finally settle into your seats and circles through radio stations after he backs out. He finds the kid’s station, playing a Muppet’s song that Steve apparently knows every word to. He sings unapologetically loud, a stupid grin sewn to his face.

When you arrive, Holly happily holds your hand through the parking lot, still clutching tightly as you wait to be seated. She climbs onto your lap to make room on the waiting bench for a woman looking ready to pop out a baby any minute. Steve stands at your other side, arm braced behind your neck.

“How old is she?” the woman asks you fondly.

“She’s five,” you return her smile, bouncing your knee. “Right, Holly?”

Holly twists to hide in your neck, nodding.

“She’s very cute,” she says with such love you already believe her baby is in good hands. “Your sister?” Her eyes flick from yours to Steve who is mostly oblivious to the conversation.

“No, just babysitting.”

“Oh, well, you’ll make good parents one day.”

The comment renders you speechless. It’s not that you hadn’t considered children before, but you hadn’t pictured them with Steve. With his smile, his eyes, his nose. It’s that this woman who doesn’t even know you imagined it before you had. You blink at her stupidly through a forced smile.

Steve squeezes your shoulder, ripping you from your thoughts. “You okay? Table’s ready.”

You get seated in a booth overlooking the parking lot.

Holly bends across Steve’s lap to point through the window. “I see our car!”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Holly’s face contorts with confusion. “Her? Your car’s a girl?”

“Yep–”

The waitress swings over with a handful of menus and a hasty introduction. Steve already knows what he wants and he places Holly’s order after his, making sure to clarify the extra sprinkles when she calls his name repeatedly to remind him. As soon as you decide, the waitress bustles off with the pair of menus to another table.

Holly slides her paper menu closer, examining each activity.

Steve picks open the box of crayons, revealing a stingy three– red, green, and blue. “You know, for a multi-million dollar company, you’d think they could afford more than three crayons.”

“And more staff,” you add, eyes tailing another waitress zipping from one table to another.

Holly points at herself, Steve, and then you, counting, “One, two three. Three crayons for three people.”

“Yeah, good point,” Steve pats her thigh. “Always the optimist.”

“Op-ta-nist?”

“Op-ta-mist,” he clarifies.

She snags the green crayon and presses it to the paper. “What’s that?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth. “Well, it’s like– it’s when you– you’re happy a lot. Grass is always greener on the other side, you know?”

Steve lost her at the metaphor but she’s too focused on staying inside the lines to care about the definition of optimist anymore.

“You got there eventually. Sort of,” you tease.

His foot stabs your ankle under the table. “Shut up.”

Steve lets Holly win every single round of tic-tac-toe while showering her with praise, convincing her she's a tactical mastermind. You can’t quite tell if she’s onto him, but she’s too busy grinning to say otherwise.

The waitress plants your and Steve’s plates on the table first, reaching behind to scoop Holly’s off her tray next. “And, chocolate chip pancakes with extra sprinkles for the little one.”

“Thank you,” you manage to say before she leaves to tend to another table flagging her down. “Holly, want syrup?”

“Yes, please.”

You pour a spiral of maple syrup over Holly’s pancakes. The amount of sugar on her plate might qualify it more as candy than breakfast. And she’s ogling the food like it’ll grow legs and run away.

“Steve, will you cut them up for her?”

He nods, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs and trading his fork for a knife. As soon as he slides her meal back over, Holly ravages the pancakes, spooning another bite in her mouth before she’s swallowed the last.

The waitress whisks by with drink refills, joy driving her to a smile at the sight of Holly and her half-empty plate.

“I swear we feed her at home,” Steve chuckles through his own joke. What a dad thing to say. “Can we get some more napkins?”

And it’s like he knows what’s going to happen. Holly stretches across the table for the syrup bottle, drawing back with an open-mouthed grimace.

“Uh-oh.” She presses her chin to her chest. There’s a patch of syrup turning the hem of her pink shirt brown.

“What?” Steve throws a pigtail behind her shoulder so he can see. “Oh. It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Holly explains.

“I know. It’s okay.”

“It’s sticky.”

“It’ll wash off.” Steve dunks a clean napkin in his cup of water and dabs it across the stain.

“It’s too cold,” she complains, pinching the fabric away from her skin.

“Sorry. It’ll dry. Have to get the syrup out, though.”

You deliver another wad of napkins to Steve’s hand. He pushes them against her belly, soaking up any excess water. His patience never frays.

Holly looks up, worry etched into her voice, “Will it stain?”

“I dunno,” you supply truthfully. “We’ll throw it in the wash when we get home.”

Steve pays the bill with the cash the Wheelers left and scrapes his wallet for change, stacking two quarters on the table when he finds them. “Since you’ve been such a good listener. There’s a sticker machine up front,” he tells Holly.

Steve might as well have slapped a ticket to Disney World on the table. Holly literally jumps for joy, right out of her seat. She buys a random Lisa Frank sticker and pockets the second coin for her piggy bank.

It’s Steve’s idea to go to the playground afterward. The park is teeming with life, the kind of chaos that only a weekend morning can bring. Swings creak under the weight of eager kids, and the monkey bars have their own traffic jam. Parents wrap the playground like a barricade, their chatter drowned out by laughter and shouts. But the heat presses down ruthlessly, making every step feel like you’re wading through a sauna.

Holly tears away from Steve’s hand as soon as her shoes hit the mulch, rejoicing in her newfound freedom with a little skip. She races up a set of stairs to wait for a turn on the tallest slide.

“Should’ve brought sunscreen,” Steve says, eyes following Holly down the slide. She flashes you both a prideful smile from the bottom.

“She’ll survive. We won’t stay long. It’s too hot.” You pull your shirt out to fan your chest, dabbing the sweat beading at your sternum.

“Careful!” he shouts as she hops from one platform to the next. She continues to bounce along the path, one wobbly leap at a time. A particularly long jump has Steve cringing. He’s trying really hard not to be overanxious and it’s as sweet as it is amusing.

He side-eyes your grin with an opposing frown. You don’t even have to say anything for him to know you’re teasing him. “What?”

You shrug, smile doubling. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You’re just funny.”

“My concern is funny to you?” he accuses.

“She’s fine, Steve.”

He makes a noise of disagreement, arms crossed and a hip popped out dramatically far. You see why Dustin teases him for being motherly.

Holly struggles with the monkey bars. She makes it halfway across before her arms start to shake and her hands slip. Steve lunges forward as he watches her plummet to the ground. But before he can swoop in, Holly pops up, dusts the dirt from her skirt with a nonchalant shrug, and marches on, completely unfazed.

“See. She’s fine,” you reassure.

“Whatever,” Steve grumbles, strolling away to sulk in private.

He makes a slow lap around the playground, hands planted firmly on his hips, casting a critical eye over the chaos. Meanwhile, you snag a spot on a bench, where most parents are engrossed in magazines or gossip, blissfully detached. You watch Steve get roped into playing a monster, though you can tell he secretly loves it.

It doesn’t take long for him to start stomping around, roaring and growling, chasing the kids as they shriek and scatter. And when they finally tire him out, he collapses beside you, his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and his breath coming in ragged bursts.

“I told her five more minutes,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the bench behind you. His curls shine honeycomb gold in the spray of sunlight and his skin echoes the warmth of desert sand, softened pink like the blush of sunset. He looks strikingly gorgeous sprawled out beside you.

Holly trots over not much later, alarmingly upset.

You sit up, urgently shaking Steve’s thigh to grab his attention. “What happened, honey?”

“I– I was,” she sucks in a staggered breath, “I was climbing the stairs and– and a boy, he pushed me.” Twin rivulets of tears are unleashed with a blink, converging at the curve of her chin.

You scan her from head to toe. Nothing looks broken or bloody. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she strains.

You drag her into your chest, pressing a loving cheek to her ear. “Did it scare you?”

She nods, hiccuping into your neck.

“I’m sorry, Holly. That wasn’t nice at all.”

Steve’s gaze shifts between Holly and the playground to search for guilty suspects. He finds none, thankfully, though he’s still itching to wring out whatever parent it is not watching their kid– which is unfortunately most of them.

“Let me see,” he coaxes Holly over for his own checkup. He picks a piece of mulch from her hair and flicks off another stamped into her calf. “Think you’ll make it? Should we call an ambulance?”

She doesn’t smile at his joke like you hope.

“Ready to go home?” you ask.

She sniffs into her sleeve. “Yeah.”

“Alright.” Steve hoists her up as he stands. Holly's long legs wrap around his waist, feet swaying against his thighs as he walks.

Holly naps on the way home, not by choice but by sheer exhaustion. She convinces herself she didn’t actually fall asleep when she wakes up in the driveway, swearing, “I just closed my eyes.”

But it’s quickly apparent that twenty minutes was not enough. She cries because her leftover pizza for lunch is cold in the middle and again when she rubs the sauce in her eye. You turn on a movie, hoping to induce another nap, but The Aristocats is just too good to sleep through. Thankfully, her grumpiness wanes into a more manageable pout, her arms uncrossing to snuggle closer to you on the couch.

When the movie ends, she slinks up, her departure leaving your lap cold. After a long-winded debate about what to do, you all finally agree on playing a board game. Steve steers Holly downstairs to pick one out and she returns with a rekindled excitement, dropping the game Twister at your feet.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with Twister, but you were expecting something easier. Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. So you let Steve and Holly go first. The round ends in a heap of tangled limbs and giggles, a winner unclear. But Holly wins the match against you, admittedly fair and square. And it’s all fun and games until she insists you and Steve must compete.

“Ehh, Holly. My arms are tired,” you reason.

“But I wanna be the referee too,” she whines. “Pleaseee!”

Steve shrugs at you, a playful little curve to his lips. If you say no, that makes only you the bad guy. And you just can’t bring yourself to break Holly’s heart over something so simple.

“Okay,” you sigh, ignoring the nervous tick in your chest.

Holly pushes you by the hips onto the mat to stand opposite Steve. She gets situated on the floor and excitedly flicks the spinner, calling, “Left foot. Blue!”

You each step toward a blue dot. Easy.

“Right foot on green.”

Right foot, green. You’re shoulder to shoulder now, hips angled toward his.

“Right hand… yellow!”

“Here we go,” you mumble, bending down to reach yellow. “Okay.”

Steve chuckles and follows suit, free hand hovering awkwardly behind your shoulder.

You twist your head until you can’t, just to see the stupid look on his face. “You know, your long legs really give you an unfair advantage here.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he chides, hot breath fanning the back of your already hot neck.

“Don’t speak so soon, Harrington. You’re the one who’s gonna lose.”

“Right hand, red,” Holly announces.

You lean back toward red, headbutting Steve’s side so you don’t fall. He curls into position next, swaying until his back pocket is inches from your nose.

“Oh my God, Steve. Get your butt out of my face!” You’d shove him if you had an extra hand.

Holly giggles in that contagious way kids laugh, automatically pulling one from Steve.

“Don’t make me laugh. If I go down, so are you,” he reminds you.

“Umm, left foot green,” Holly says.

Steve groans dramatically, whining. “What! Holly, that’s impossible. Spin again.”

She cackles, reminiscent of Queen Holly. “Nope, you have to! That’s the rules!”

And somehow, you both make it to green without knocking each other over. But you’re getting distracted– Steve’s hand has brushed your calf three times now and his shirt is loose, hanging off his chest in a way that gives you a clear view of his tummy. This might as well be sabotage. You tear your eyes away. You must focus. You didn’t care much for winning before, but something about Steve brings out your competitive side.

“Right hand, green.”

You bow your knee until it’s wedged uncomfortably into your ribcage so you can reach the green. Your thighs quickly begin to ache. You won’t last much longer in this position. Especially not when Steve arches over you like a human bridge, the zipper of his jeans tickling your back where your shirt has scrunched up.

He shakes his hair out of the way so he can see you, albeit upside down. His smile stretches wide, radiating pure, unfiltered joy. He’s having the time of his life, and admittedly, so are you.

Your elbow juts out, nearly giving under the weight of his gaze alone. But you snap it back in place and practically beg Holly, “Spin.”

“Left foot blue!”

You and Steve lunge for the same blue circle. His sock slides against the tarp, leg extending much farther than he’s prepared for. His arm buckles, chest slamming down against your back. Your elbows give out immediately under the force of his weight, jaw slamming into the floor.

“Shit, sorry! You okay?”

A burst of laughter tumbles out of your mouth before you can answer. But maybe it’s an answer in itself. Your chin stings but you're fine. Better than fine, even.

As soon as Steve scrambles off of you, you flip onto your back. His eyes trickle down you in assessment, eyebrows knitting together, mouth twitching like it can’t decide whether to frown or smile.

“I’m okay,” you manage, smiley and breathless.

“Did you hit your face?”

“Just my chin.”

He reaches for your face with hesitant fingers. “Sorry.”

You shake your head, bolstering his wrist as he cups your chin. “I definitely won.”

And just like that, all his worry washes away. He pries your hand from his wrist, wrenching you up to sit. “Technically, you hit the floor first.”

You glance over to Holly for her professional referee’s opinion but find she’s no longer there. “Where’s–”

“I found it!” she yells from the upstairs. What exactly she found, you’ve no idea. But she comes stomping down the stairs not a minute later with a little box in her hands. Bandaids, you realize, as she dumps the contents on the twister mat beside you. “They’re Hello Kitty,” she says, stripping the paper backing off of one.

You let her little fingers stamp it to the curve of your chin. It’s not bleeding, nor does it really hurt that bad, but the gesture is sweet enough to melt your heart. “Thank you, Holly. You’re so gentle. You should be a candy striper.”

“I don’t think I’m old enough.”

“When you’re older then.”

Steve decides Twister is far too dangerous to keep playing, but Holly demands a game of Mouse Trap so it works out. Steve wins, despite you and Holly’s strategic alliance halfway through. And by then, she’s asked about dinner twice so you shelve the rest of the games and head up to the kitchen to decide together.

Holly hums into the freezer, “Chicken nuggets… pizza rolls– oh! Eggos, can we have Eggos?”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, peering over her, “Why don’t we cook something? We could have a fancy dinner. Like a dinner party.”

“Can we dress up?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, flipping a pack of ground beef over.

“Pasta?” you call from the pantry.

“Ooh, yeah. Let’s do that.”

Holly sprints upstairs for a costume, much more interested in the party than the dinner. You pull a box of noodles and an unopened jar of sauce from the shelf while Steve grabs a pot from the cabinet and sticks it under the faucet.

“Careful. Stove’s on,” you announce, flicking the dial on high.

Steve backs up from the sink slowly, water sloshing over the side of the pot when he bumps the table.

“Steve,” you chuckle, pulling a dish towel from the oven handle, “It doesn’t need to be that full.”

“No?”

“No, dump like, half of that out.”

He nods, pouring some out and depositing the rest over the stove. “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never made pasta before.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed,” you quip, elbowing his side with the box of noodles in hand. “Pour these in?”

He takes the box and gives it a good shake. “How much?”

“Maybe half? Little more?”

He tips it over the water, snapping it back up when much more than half slides out. “Oops.”

“It’s okay.” You chuck a few stray pieces from the counter into the pot. “Everyone’s getting seconds tonight. What do you like in your pasta?”

“Sauce?”

The laugh fizzles out in your throat as you realize he’s not making a joke. “Besides sauce. Cheese? Meat? Spices?”

“Oh, uhh, I’m not sure.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, hand retracting to fidget with the hem of his shirt. He’s antsy, clearly nervous. Maybe embarrassed of his cooking knowledge, or rather, lack of it. Or perhaps afraid the pasta will end up something like the first set of grilled cheeses.

“We’ll keep it simple then. Holly probably won’t like it too fancy anyway.”

Steve nervously watches the water bubble, foam climbing up the sides. “Do you like garlic bread? Saw some in the freezer.”

You fish the box out and line a pan with three pieces. And with bread in the oven and the pasta starting to boil, you hop on the counter to wait.

“How long does it take?” Steve asks.

“Not long.”

You open the drawer beside your legs and find a big wooden spoon. Lucky guess. “Here. Stir.”

His eyes follow the ladle, stirring with steady hands. It’s a peaceful quiet, his focus unusually soft. Not the urgent, fate of his life kind of determination you’re used to seeing.

When it’s ready, you pinch the spoon’s neck, fingertips sweeping his for the half a second before he lets go. “Now we strain the water. Then we can add the sauce.”

You find a strainer and plant it in the sink while Steve carries the pot over and pours. He sets it back on the stove, per your orders, and offers a hand when you struggle with the sauce lid.

He pins the jar against his chest, knuckles straining white in several attempts to twist the cap. But it pops off after a good shake, spraying sauce across your cheek, and spinning to the floor like a frisbee.

Steve freezes, gawking at your face with a stupid smile.

“Steve!” You scoop up a dish towel and smack his arm.

He throws his hands up and turns a shoulder to you. “I didn’t mean to,” he snickers.

“Don’t laugh! I’ll pour that whole jar over your head.”

He doesn’t buy your threat one bit, still laughing as he sets the jar down and steals the towel from your hands. “I’ll get it. Sit still.”

You summon the most menacing glare you can manage while suppressing a smile. He presses the towel to your cheek, thumb gliding across your skin as he wipes the sauce in one languid motion. His eyes flick down to your lips and you’re positive you aren’t imagining it.

But you’re sweating and your stomach is churning and– “The pasta!” You ram into Steve’s shoulder trying to get by, rushing to turn the stove temperature down.

Steve whisks up behind you to see the food. “Is it burnt?”

“No, no. It should be fine.” You scrape the ladle under the bottom layer of noodles. “Pass me the sauce?”

You avoid his eyes as you take it. Was he going to kiss you? Maybe just thinking about it? Or perhaps there was just sauce near your mouth and you’re spiraling over absolutely nothing.

You toss the food in sauce and divide it into three plates silently.

“Holly! Food’s ready,” Steve shouts as he fixes the table with napkins and silverware.

She clambers down the steps in a tutu and a cardigan that you’re pretty sure is Nancy’s. Her smile drops. “Where are your clothes?”

Steve looks down at his sweats. “Holly, I think we’ll just–”

“Please, Stevie. It’s a dinner party, remember?”

His eyes dart to you, though you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “One sec.”

He swings back into the kitchen wearing a tweed suit jacket, a silky, black one draped over his arm. His is a few sizes too big, shoulder pads drooping down his biceps, and the sleeves swallowing his hands. He pushes the fabric up his elbows to hand you the other jacket. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you deadpan. It comes off less sarcastic than you aim for.

Holly and Steve adopt similar grins as you slip the jacket on. “You look dashing,” she compliments.

“Very,” Steve agrees, taking a seat beside you.

You spend the rest of dinner internally debating whether he’s flirting or just indulging in Holly’s playful antics. The uncertainty makes your stomach flip, and suddenly you aren’t so hungry anymore.

After the dinner party concludes, it’s Holly’s suggestion to go for a walk. She wheels her bike out of the garage, fitted with a set of training wheels and a handlebar bursting with tinsel. A yawn rolls off her tongue as she launches down the driveway. It raises your hopes for a smoother bedtime tonight.

Even as the horizon melts into the Earth, the summer heat clings like a heavy hand. Trees project long shadows along the road, eating what’s left of the sunlight. Bugs buzz and birds chirp, but a sleepy stillness is ubiquitous.

“What?” you ask suddenly, whipping your head to face Steve. He’s drenched in gold, pale wisps of hair riding the breeze as he strolls.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re staring at me. I feel it.”

“I wasn’t,” he assures.

You blink at him. You can’t decide whether to be annoyed at such an obvious lie or embarrassed by the truth.

He jogs ahead before you’ve come up with something to say. Halfway to Holly, he shouts, “Come on, slowpoke!”

It only takes one loop around the block for the heat to catch up. Holly complains incessantly about her helmet strap being too tight even after Steve fixes it and you’re itchy from sweat and mosquito bites. Steve’s, well, he might be the only content one. Happy even, guiding you home with a subtle bend to his lips and a soft glow tinting his cheeks.

Holly whines about having to take a bath, and while you might negotiate it another night, you can see the damp line down her back. But like you suspect, all grievances are forgotten the second she gets in. She likes playing in the bath, even if she forgets it. It’s where she keeps her mermaid Barbie and her collection of rubber ducks, coincidentally all named Bob.

And while bath time might tend to feel like more of a chore as a babysitter, tonight is different. It’s your last night at the Wheelers, and while that’s not new information, it is startlingly sad. You aren’t irritated when she splashes water in your eye or when she leaves a trail of it down the hall for you to clean. You can’t be, not when you know you’ll miss it.

Steve helps you tuck Holly into Nancy’s bed. After pinky swearing that you’ll both return at your own bedtime, she drifts off easily. You’re thankful, of course, but a piece of you secretly hoped to be needed longer.

“Must’ve been tired,” Steve whispers, pushing slowly off the bed. “You okay?”

You nod, tearing your eyes from Holly to meet Steve’s. “Kinda sad.” You shrug, murmuring, “Stupid.”

“It’s not.” He cups your shoulder and runs a warm hand up and down your arm. “Come on.”

You take his hand and let him lead you across the hall and down the stairs. He pulls you onto the couch so you land pressed into the same cushion he’s on. “Y’know, babysitting Holly’s a breeze compared to the usual shitheads. We don’t have to worry about her taking my car keys or fighting interdimensional monsters or summoning a gate to hell,” he says.

A soft laugh parts your lips. “Think Holly will put in a good word for us with her parents?”

“You kidding? She loves us. Especially me,” he jokes. “Hate to break it to you but I’m definitely her favorite.”

“No, you are not. Shut up.”

He catches your fist mid-punch, cradling your hand like it’s made of wet sand. His thumb crosses each divot between your fingers, stroking up and down your knuckle slowly. “I’m sure they’ll ask us to babysit her again at some point.”

You hum in agreement.

“Besides, we could expand our horizons. There’s like a million other children in Hawkins that need babysitting.”

Your smile spills into your cheeks. “We?”

“Yeah, I think we make a pretty damn good team. Don’t you?”

“I do, but… we don’t have to limit our interactions to just babysitting, you know?”

“What are you thinking? Dinner and a movie? Next weekend?” His eyes flick from your fingers to your face– to each eye, sweeping down the center of your nose, stopping right at your lips.

You turn away in an attempt to soothe your heart as it pounds up to your ears. “Smooth, Harrington.”

He reels you back in gently by the arm, confidence shining through his smile.“What? Did I read this wrong?” He knows he didn’t, he’s teasing you.

“No,” you mumble, “You didn’t.”

He leans in to whisper, “Can I kiss you then?”

You nod, pushing into the soft press of his lips with your own. He’s not hesitant, nor is he harsh. Steve knows how to kiss, that much is clear. He trades your hand for your cheek, gently tilting your face to the side as he pulls away.

Your eyes flutter open to a doting gaze. One that travels down the lines and slopes of your neck like they’re made of candy. Steve plants a second kiss on your lips, though fleeting in comparison to the first. But he plants several more to make up for it, working his way in a Z down your cheek, across your jaw, and back down your neck. They’re quick, ticklish little pecks of affection. A sweetness if you ever knew it.

“Steve,” you admonish, though giggles betray your tone. The hands that frame his face glide gently down to his throat, your thumbs meeting at his Adam's apple. “We’re babysitting.”

“I know,” he says, kissing your lips for a third time. “Just had to get a few extra in there. For all the times I thought about kissing you this weekend.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?” He laughs, bubbly like you’ve surprised him. “It’s true. I thought about it all weekend.”

You don’t know why you ask– why you even thought of it at a time like this– but you question him, “What about Nance?”

“What about her?”

“You don’t…” you trail off, afraid to even speak the possibility into existence.

“We’re done. We have been. For a lot longer than I was willing to admit,” he admits honestly.

“Yeah, but do you–”

“I don’t. Still have feelings for her. Not like that, anyway.”

You meet his eyes, feeling a strange blend of emotions you can’t quite name.

“If you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to let me prove it to you,” he holds your gaze, warm with a sincerity that makes it hard to doubt him.

“I believe you.”

You let Steve kiss you several more times on that couch. He’s patient, deliberate, and more kind than you ever imagined he’d be. It’s hard to understand why Nancy would ever let someone like that go.

ᯓ★

On Monday morning, you blink awake first, the comforting weight of a hand that’s not yours across your hip and another, much lighter one, at your belly. You turn over slowly, finding Steve and Holly wrapped around each other like ivy on trellis. You don’t imagine many people look this pretty asleep. The comb of long lashes kissing the soft flush in his cheeks. The golden lather of sunrise in each wild swoop of hair. The way his lips part for a sigh cuter than you knew one could be.

He mumbles something unintelligible, sleep talk perhaps.

You whisper back anyway, “What?”

Steve sighs, smearing his cheek against the pillow. “Being a creeper.”

“Me?”

“Mhmm.” One eye slowly unbinds itself from sleep. Steve adores the tight-lipped smile on your face, broad with an infatuation he forgot could be aimed at him. His hand twitches at your side.

“You just look so pretty when you sleep,” you admit. Is it too soon to say such things?

His eye closes as he smiles, nosing into Holly’s hair, selfishly keeping it to himself. You reach across her body to find it, swiping a loving finger across his lips when you do.

You stay in bed for as long as Holly will allow– which is not very long after she wakes up– but you don’t mind. You watch fondly as Steve helps her brush her teeth and as she helps Steve toast and butter the Eggos. Like Steve, Holly’s a good kid. They’re both helpers at heart.

And you’re sure to remind Mrs. Wheeler of that when she rings the house to let you know they’re almost home. Holly’s excitement quickly dwindles into sadness the moment she realizes you won’t be staying. But she uses it to bargain one final game of hide and seek before you go.

“Come on.” Steve drags you by the wrist, bustling upstairs to the bathroom. He throws the shower curtain aside and jumps in, offering his hand to help you after. You sit scrunched together, knee to knee on the porcelain floor, giggling like children.

“Shhh,” you squeeze his kneecap. “You’re gonna get us found.”

He jostles your shoulder, mouth agape. “You’re the one who’s laughing!”

“No,” you insist, though the light in your eyes suggests otherwise. Curiosity sparks and the irrepressible urge to act on it wins. You lean in for a kiss, confirming that’s all it takes to shut Steve up.

He tastes like maple syrup, loving with his lips as much as his hands. He pulls back for breath and returns for another peck, pressing into the corner of your mouth where your smile keeps drawing higher and higher.

“Hard to kiss you when you're smiling.”

“Can’t help it,” you defend. “Never been so happy.”

He softens like warm icing, a sweet and gooey mess in your arms. But the shake of the front door closing stiffens him.

“Mommy!” you hear quickly after.

Steve scrambles up and over the lip of the tub, tugging you out with him. You follow him downstairs where Mrs. Wheeler swings Holly in her arms like she’s much smaller than she really is. Mr. Wheeler steers a suitcase silently through the entryway.

“Did you have so much fun?” she asks Holly, peppering kisses across her temple. “Ohh, I missed you!”

Holly revels in the affection overload, bending backward to giggle at you and Steve.

Mrs. Wheeler grins. “How was she?”

“Great, as always,” Steve assures. His cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed— though you could chalk that up to bedhead, not the aftermath of your short-lived makeout session.

You nod, adding, “We went swimming and to the park and–”

“IHOP!” Holly yells. “I got pancakes with chocolate chips and extra sprinkles!”

“Did you? Sounds like you had a lot of fun.” Mrs. Wheeler plants Holly on her feet. “Can you give hugs? Say thank you for being such good babysitters?”

Holly launches herself at Steve. He sends you a smirk over her shoulder, rocking her side to side in his embrace. You can just hear him say, I told you so.

But she offers the same enthusiasm and more for you, dragging you onto the floor for a proper goodbye hug. “I don’t want you to go,” she pouts in your ear.

“We’ll come back. We can have playdates?”

“Can’t you just live in Nancy’s room? She’s never here anyway.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I wish I could,” you admit honestly.

She reluctantly loosens her grip on your shirt when you peel away.

Mrs. Wheeler sees you and Steve off with a warm smile. Holly darts through her mother’s legs for one final hug on the porch. You wave goodbye, the moment slipping into something bittersweet before Steve bumps his shoulder into yours, a playful grin softening the farewell.

You dawdle up to your car, wringing your hands together when you reach the door. “So.”

“So,” he parrots.

“This weekend, right?”

His smirk blooms into a full smile. “Friday? Pick you up at seven?”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay,” he chuckles, clipping a hand around your jaw and leaning in.

You turn away so the kiss skips across the softest stretch of your cheek. “Steve.”

His eyes never leave your face as he assures you, “They’re not looking.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Holly waves at you through the living room window, a smile as wide as her face. Steve’s hand falls down to his side and he takes a platonic step back. You both return her goodbye, but Holly stays, her little hand pressed to the glass.

“Think she’ll tell?” Steve asks, not an ounce of worry in his tone.

You shrug, tugging him back in by the waist for a proper kiss. “I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #holly wheeler #stranger things fic #stranger things #skeltnwrites #eotw

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