#reader is a resonator

[wuwaworld]

Mortefi x Reader (One-Shot)

— wishing to be in the front lines against the evil forces, you applied for submission to be a soldier. by some luck, you passed the test. now, how will you tell this to your co-worker.. whom you've found endearing despite the everyday banter? can you really leave the safety net of the Academy?

tw: Mortefi as a menace, idiots in love, prob ooc Mortefi, vague spoilers(?) (for those players who aren't that far into the quest/knowledge on wuwa yet, like me lol)

chaotically rewritten.

forgive the man's bluntness, but Mortefi doesn't really understand how you're fretting over something quite simple.

it started with fleeting glances throughout the whole Academy. Mortefi notices how you hold a thick envelope, flapping its seal but never actually pulling out what's inside.

“what are you doing?” Mortefi approaches you on a random afternoon, the Academy's activities were a bit mellow today. so he guesses he could take his free time to chat with you instead.

“ah-!” you fumbled with the envelope in your hands in a panic, “you can't just surprise me like that!”

“well,” Mortefi chuckles wryly, “someone is quite in a foul mood these days.”

“whatever.” you huffed, attempting to hide the envelope away from his prying eyes. your hands discreetly placing it beneath the stacks of paperwork–

but of course, it was the reason Mortefi approached you, wasn't it?

shamelessly, he picks up the envelope from your hands, flipping the smooth material around as he checks for something relevant on its cover. Mortefi swiftly leans away when you try to pry it away. his taller stature easily raising his hand out of your reach.

“hey! give that back-” you felt quite anxious as Mortefi continued to hold the envelope. “don't you have some manners?”

“weren't you the one who said I should drop the formalities, hm?” Mortefi retorts as he leans down to your height, the envelope in his hands still out of your reach.

“now, will you tell me what this is?”

“an.. application.” you sighed, attempting to cover it up as you reach out for the envelope once more.

“about what? you're oddly being secretive.” Mortefi prods, merely raising his arms out of your reach once more.

“if you give it to me, I'll tell you.” you bargained, crossing your arms as getting the envelope back seemed futile.

“I've seen children conjour a lie better than yours.”

“ugh, you-”

Mortefi merely chuckles, his fingers playing with the paper flap. an almost unnoticable teasing smile on his lips as he taunts further.

“fine,” you huffed, “it's a test result.”

Mortefi blinks once, processing the information.

as far as he knew, you didn't had any major work this past few days. the only things you had done were signing papers and fixing broken weapons that were dropped in the Academy's door.

besides, he's the one who gives you work. so this envelope must be something personal. something a mere co-worker shouldn't pry.

“it seems I've crossed the line,” Mortefi sighs, placing the envelope back in your hands, “I apologize if I came out rude-”

before he could finish his oddly sappy apology, you covered your mouth— laughing at his somewhat sheepish expression.

“you-” you laughed, looking at him as he stood confused, “you're taking it too seriously-”

Mortefi then deadpans, crossing his arms across his chest, “ha.. you're so eccentric.” he mutters. his eyes now looking at the way your lashes flutter as your eyes closed, or how your tense body seem to ease a bit as you laughed because of him. it was him, Mortefi, who had made you this happy—

but.. you didn't have to know that.

you didn't have to know the way he hids his expression as soon as you look up to him; the endearing look he once had replaced with nonchalance. he patiently waits for you to calm down from your peals of laughter, uncaring of the odd stares around the office.

“Mortefi?” he saw the way you tilted your head, a few strands of hair framing your face as you waved your hand in front of him. how rude, he thinks.

“I can feel you heating up.. even when I'm just in front of you. are you that embarrassed?” you asked curiously, a mix of concern and teasing on your tone.

“I'm upset that you seem to shrug of my genuine concern.” Mortefi scoffs, trying to quell his raging heart beat. he crosses his arms more tightly against him as an act of defiance. but really, he was trying to hide the way his chest rapidly falls up and down, his breath quickening on the way he feels at that moment. it almost felt as if the Tacet Mark on his chest was waving along to the frequencies of his heart.

he knows what he's been feeling for you the past weeks.. but a little more denial and study on his feelings wouldn't.. hurt.. right?

“ah, my bad.” you apologized, but Mortefi knew it was merely half-meant, if the way your shoulders just seem to shrug it off.

“now, since we've been in this conversation for a while,” he starts off as he ignored the flutters in his stomach, pushing up his glasses with his finger, “what really is in that envelope?”

if your laughter was any indication, Mortefi deduces that while it is personal, it wasn't something that truly concerns you to the point you'll shut people out. he began to scrutinize the way you bit your lip in nervousness, or the fact that you seem to hold the envelope even closer to your chest. (which he hadn't noticed that you already grabbed subtly when he places his arm down.)

“well?” Mortefi tilts his head, waiting for a reply.

“I..” you sighed, looking at him straight in the eye, “I'm going to the military.”

you notice the way Mortefi merely glances at you with a look of absurdness. it had made you realize that maybe your answer was quite vague.

“I'm leaving the Academy,” you made the announcement clear, and didn't miss the way Mortefi's eyes widens a tad bit, “I applied to be a soldier on the front lines.. I want a different kind of approach in helping Jinzhou.”

“.....”

for a while, you wonder if you had somehow.. broke the ever so suave Mortefi you did. if the way he seems to heat up more..? did he became upset on your sudden announcement of looming departure?

“Sir.. Mortefi..?” you called out unsure. at the end of the day, he was still your superior– no matter how much you banter like friends.

his eyes sharply turns to you, an inquisitive look on his face. “back on formalities again?” if anything, he sounded more and more upset.

“sorry,” you sighed, your hands tentatively pulling out the thick paper from the envelope. showing him the results of your test in applying in the military.

Mortefi looks down on the paper, he glances at the words etched on it. amidst the long words and paragraphs, his eyes zoned in on a sentence.

“we are pleased to have you with us as a fellow Midnight Ranger!”

not knowing his inner building turmoil, you looked down on your feet as you spoke, “I didn't know how to tell you.. the higher-ups already gave me an approval to leave the Academy within a week or two.”

the bustling sounds of the place were the only white noise. you watched as Mortefi stood in front of you, a thoughtful, yet unreadable expression on his face as he stares at the papers. flipping the page every now and then.

“Mortefi...?”

“is that all?” said man merely hums, as if his odd attitude previously was an illusion, “I should probably give you a newly made weapon to help you before you depart.”

“oh.. are you not upset?” you questioned, taking the papers back.

“should I be?” Mortefi smirks, a knowing look on his face, “should I not be proud that you're broadening your minisicule horizons?”

“you-!” you balked, watching as he continues to tease you relentlessly... before cutting him off with a, “gosh, Mortefi. at least take it seriously!”

“what's there to treat in such manner?”

“I.. uh..” you paused, gears slowly aligning in your head.

in a matter of seconds, you felt yourself heat up. a mad blush painting your cheeks as you hid your face behind the envelope. Mortefi was right, why should he treat it so seriously? in fact, he should be somewhat supportive as your co-worker, even amidst the bittersweet departing.

then why is it that you feel.. mad.. or upset.. at his lack of.. elaborative response?

“are you upset?” Mortefi taunts, giving you the taste of your own medicine from earlier as he leans his body to your height.

“nothing,” you tried to shrug off, your feet taking a few steps back as you looked away.

“if this is about your late announcent to me as your superior, then yes.” he teases, as he morphs his expression into a mocking anger.

“in the end of all this though,” Mortefi gestures to the envelope, “I commend your bravery on stepping in this hectic journey.”

“...thank you, Mortefi.” you feel the way your cheeks even grew more a deep red, and as you look up, you were surprised to see a soft look on his face. almost as if..

no, you can't assume something so serious like that.

..yet you can't ignore the tension, the way he continues to check on you at work even when he wasn't required to. the way Mortefi nags the mess on your office that you left previously on a chaotic overtime at work. yet you find your desk a tad bit cleaner than before as you went back after lunch. which he hasn't done with other colleagues, merely staring at another's messy office place in disgust.

you can't and won't ignore the whispers of the people in the Academy on how you two seem too close to be mere co-workers. on how he asks for your opinion regarding a prototype he has made, even if the both of you knew he already had the answer with how genious he is.

there was no movement from both sides. though Mortefi was a straightforward man, he can even hesitate on something as delicate as love.

while there were no clear answers, like a new problem that was put on hold to be solved— the both of you know the way you feel with each other without words. it's only up to time and fate as to when the answer would unravel.

until then, this distance seems enough for now.

“fine, since you've done this much for me,” Mortefi mutters, looking in your eyes with a somewhat fond look, “go ahead, tell me the wildest inventions you can think of, and watch me make them happen for you.”

the man took a step forward, and boldly places a hand on your shoulder. his thumb brushing against the fabric of your clothes leisurely,

“after all, I can't let my co-worker leave the Academy empty handed now, hm?”

[destiel-wings]

AO3 easy trick: sometimes when I want to leave a comment on a fic but I dont know what to say specifically I'll just paste my favorite line(s)/little paragraph and then write something like "I loved this so much/this fic is amazing" or even just a string of hearts.

writers love knowing what lines stuck the most and this way you don't need to elaborate too much of your own

[hungharrington]

i feel it coming, babe

technically the sequel to a little less conversation this is yet another piece for girlies (gn) with bad sex experiences <3 remember sometimes it takes more than once to get it right honeys :D 12k words, fem!reader, MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

Okay so, you’ll admit, you might be beginning to get it. 

A smidge. A pinch. 

It’s just— well, how are you not supposed to understand it? How can you not get the thrill and fervour over sex when it’s with Steve and he looks like that. All golden tan skin and hazel eyes that look at you like he might eat you whole and— and he treats you like… 

Like there was never anything wrong with you.

Even after that balmy afternoon spent in his sheets, with his mouth between your thighs, pulling noises out of you that you’d never even heard before, he’s been so perfectly so. Not pushy, yet still that lingering hunger you can see simmering beneath his skin, hidden in the flex of his fingers. 

Part of you almost worries, a little niggle burrowed in the back of your mind, that it was all a fluke.

That nothing had really changed all that much between you— that the next time things start getting heated, the chemistry won’t be there. Or it’ll be weird and off, or you will be, and really, you were probably lucky to have that first time with Steve so good but you can’t expect that again. 

But then… there is one difference at least, to combat all your swarming thoughts a fluke. The kisses. 

When you think of Steve Harrington and his playboy past, you can’t say, of the words tossed around in the high school corridor, that clingy is something that comes to mind. Not that he had been described as anything other than charming… but you don’t mind pleasant surprise of coming to learn this about Steve. 

It means kisses all the time. 

On your hands, scattered across your knuckles, when he’s dropping you home from a date. Kisses pressed to your hair and forehead, when he’s scooching past you, when he’s saying hello and his hands are busy, when you sit between his legs on the sofa. 

He kisses your shoulders, up along the curve of your neck just to see if it’ll still make you laugh a bit when he finds that ticklish spot beneath your ear. Adores sweeping back your hair to plant a kiss against your skin with the sweetest little ‘mwah!’ so quiet you don’t think you’re meant to hear it. 

And your lips… you don’t think they’ve ever been so kiss-bitten in your life.

One night with Steve can leave them blooming with colour, all the blood beneath them rushing with pleasure as he kisses your mouth soft — sometimes hard, sometimes sweet, always maddeningly. 

He greets you with a kiss always, one hand curled gently around your chin to tilt it up perfectly. And always after, a grin spreads across his face, brown eyes crinkling and pink lips barely restrained his joy. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He’ll always says, or some variation.

Which, yeah, that’s new too. Sweetheart. You haven’t quite figured out how to not melt to a gloopy gooey mess when he says it just yet. It’s a damn good thing that your boyfriend is a gentleman and he politely doesn’t comment when you fluster, only gets the smallest hint of a smirk. 

For all your past worries about not kissing him for fear of leading him on, you hadn’t realise quite how much you were depriving yourself of affection. Steve’s certainly turning you greedy— and he’s all too happy to sate your appetite for it. 

Today, it’s drizzly. The colour of the sky is a bright ashen grey, enough to warrant a headache and inspire a day inside. In the distance, you can see the thunder clouds rolling in and bringing a blanket of shadow with them. 

They reach overhead much quicker than you’re expecting and you’re barely a block out from Steve's house before the rain starts coming down. 

Try as you might, raincoat tucked tight around you, you’re still a bit drenched by the time you make it to Steve’s doorstep. One freezing finger presses the door bell. A chime sounds inside. 

You rub your hands together to try warm them as you wait, cringing at the whisk of wind that twirls your hair up and about. Your hands shoot up and you nervously flatten the wild strands back down— right as Steve opens the door.

He’s got a towel around his neck, one hand scrubbing it into his wet hair. Judging from his ruffled t-shirt — put on in a rush and exposing his tummy — he’s just got out the shower. He looks surprised but happy to see you.

“Sweetheart, hi-hoooooly shit,” He sticks his head out the door, eyes wide as he takes in the weather. His hair flicks as he turns back to you. “Did you walk the whole way from your house? In the rain?” 

Your shoulders form a meek shrug. Before you can speak, his hands are on your shoulders, tugging you inside, across the doorway. He kicks it shut behind you. 

“Christ, honey, what’d you do that for?” His hands fret a little bit, rubbing at your shoulders. He gently picks a piece of hair that’s stuck to your cheek, placing it behind your ear. 

“I mean,” You start, a little confused. Your hands tighten on your overnight bag, wringing the handle tightly. He knew you were coming over, right? “I thought we— on the phone, we made a plan?” 

Steve breathes a soft laugh. “Yeah, we’ve got plans. But I would’ve come got you instead of making you walk through the rain. C’mon, what  kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” 

His use of the word boyfriend still makes you glow. You smile, nope, you grin all cheesy — and it doesn’t help at all when Steve’s hands trail down your jacket to hold your own. He wiggles the handles of your bag out from your frozen fingers and drops it behind him gently. His hands dart back to cover yours.

“Dear god, I think you’re about two minutes from losing a finger.” His eyebrows have scrunched together in worry. He brings your hands up to his face, cupped in his own, and blows hot air on them. It tickles but you can’t stop smiling. 

He pulls them back, rubbing his thumbs over your icy fingers and peers down at them. Your heart coos at his concern. 

“What’s the verdict doctor?” You jest, making your voice all breathy and dramatic. “Am I gonna make it?” 

Steve frowns harder at your hands, his face serious when he tilts it back up to face you. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to amputate.” 

You gasp dramatically. 

Steve grins. He runs over your hands once more, one of his fingers creeping up your wrist, trying to find a ticklish spot. You squeal a little, trying to pull back but he holds your hands firm in his own. He continues his serious voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but it’s your whole arm. We’re gonna have to chop it right off.” 

His fingers are half way up your sleeve, making it bunch up and you’re laughing so much it’s warming you up much faster than him blowing on your hands. You push his hand away playfully and Steve relents, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, you got me.” He grins. “I’m not a real doctor.”

You laugh again, reaching up to tuck back your hair that’s fallen forward in your squirming. “Uh huh, a real doofus is what you are.” 

Steve rolls his eyes endearingly, his hands reaching out to snag your waist this time. He tugs you closer. Your feet stumble and when you press against his chest, you’re delighted to find he’s very, very warm. You're definitely soaking his shirt a bit with your coat but if Steve cares, he doesn't say.

“Just realised I didn’t properly say hello,” He murmurs, a little quieter than before. 

And when one of his hands moves up and curls beneath your jaw, holding your chin gently, you know what’s coming. If you weren’t already holding your breath in anticipation, he probably would’ve stolen it with his kiss.

His plush lips are soft and with a loving little hum, he kisses you.

All the lights around you look a little dewey and heart-shaped when Steve pulls back — though it may be just your own lovey-dovey eyes. You sigh without meaning to, all honeyed and sweet, and Steve softens immeasurably at the sound. 

“Okay,” He shifts his hands back down to your hands, rubbing them lightly. “I’m not kidding, even your lips feel frozen. D’ya wanna take a quick shower just to warm up?” 

Something about you flushes at his suggestion— a runaway thought about getting in his shower, it getting steamier and steamier, especially with Steve slipping in to join you halfway. You clear your throat to push away the thought and focus. 

Your hair is wetter than you’d expected, sticking to your neck in cold tendrils. A shiver zips down your spine. All your scandalous thoughts aside, it sounds like a pretty good idea. 

“Yeah,” you nod gingerly. “Yeah, okay, it wouldn’t mind the warm up.” 

Steve steps back, bending down to scoop up your bag deftly. He holds it for you as you unbutton your coat as quick as you can with your frozen fingers, shivering in relief as you shed the drenched layer. Droplets of rain spray in the rustle. Your coat finds a home on a peg beside the door.

It’s comforting how easy it is to follow Steve up the stairs, drinking in his cosy attire from behind— gone are his usual tight fitting jeans. Instead, he’s donned what you guess is his pyjamas; a plain ringer tee and red, plaid, and long flannelette pants. His feet are warmed by fluffy socks that have reindeer prancing about the fabric. A flash of his tan ankle makes you stumble for a moment.

Steve trades your overnight bag, with a smile and a promise to keep it safe, for a pillowy white towel, soft as ever. He leads you into the bathroom off his bedroom, depositing your bag on his bed along the way. 

His fingers find the switch for the heated towel rail and while you fold the towel over it neatly, heart humming in content at being taken care of, Steve starts the shower. He sticks one hand in, holding it under the spray and grimacing at the cold— until the chill slips away beneath the steamy hot water. 

“Alright,” Steve says, pulling his hand back. He gives it a little shake, droplets splattering on the tiles. “All ready for my best girl.“ 

He gives a cheesy and charismatic smile as he wipes his hand dry and if you were brave enough, you might give him a little thank you kiss for it. You aren’t just yet — but when he moves to slip by you, you halt him with a soft hand on his torso. 

“Thank you.” you say, quieter than you intend. You push on the balls of your feet and plant a quick peck onto his cheek. 

Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch. Steve looks like he melts a bit, lashes fluttering as he sucks in a sharp inhale. Turns out neither of you are getting any closer to getting used to the affection. It’s sweet to know it goes both ways. 

“I’m gonna—“ Steve breathes, his hand drifting up, his index finger pointed out to the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Or if you fall. Just like, uh, yell- or scream. Or— you know what, you’ve taken a shower before.” 

He stumbles out towards the exit, pulling two awkward thumbs-up over his shoulders. The door swings shut behind him, closing with a quiet click. 

Your clothes pool to the ground, a trail leading towards the shower as you move with haste. Though you’re sure the Harrington's won’t notice, you don’t want to waste the hot water. 

The heat soothes you— swathes of relief washing down your body, picking up every piece of ice in your skin and sending it swirling down the drain. It doesn’t take too long to get back to warm and toasty. 

Still, when your eye catches on it, you can’t resist. Steve has a body wash that smells heavenly. You pick it up, flick back the cap, and take a whiff — just to check it’s the one that’s been infiltrating your very dreams. Steve, even on a daily basis, manages to smell so good it drives you close to delirium. 

You’re more than happy to steal it for yourself today. You take another sniff of the bottle in your grasp, just to inhale it with a sigh. The sweater he let you borrow the other week has the exact same smell; a musky perfumed scent, with a hint of bergamot. 

You dollop some in your hand and lather it all over. Properly cleansed and throughly warmed up, you let the final suds whirlpool down the drain before shutting the tap off and stepping out. The fluffy porcelain coloured towel is toasty in your hands as you pluck it off the rail.  A sigh in appreciation comes out as you dry off, twisting it around yourself. 

It’s as you stand there, refreshed and smelling of Steve, in just a towel, do you realise you’ve forgotten to bring in clothes to change into. 

On his bed, Steve sits idle — because what else is Steve supposed to do when you’re in his shower? When you’re naked in his shower. Naked in his shower and probably using his soap and lathering it up down your body and on your boobs and— oh my god, soapy boobs and— 

Steve’s pulls himself from his thoughts with a rapid shake of his head, just in time for the bathroom door to rattle open and your shining face to peek through. 

You look a little flushed, maybe from the heat, or from the lack of clothing. Steve can see your bare shoulder, his eyes tracking a drop as it rolls down your collarbone. None of this helps his runaway thoughts. 

He stands up without thought. Then he realises how strange he might look, like a dog standing to attention. 

“Feeling boober?” Steve says, like an idiot. Heat floods his face as he realises his flub. “BETTER! Are you feeling better?” 

He’s thankful that you at least laugh, a pretty sound that you tuck behind your hand. You have the nerve to wiggle your eyebrows at him, a far cry from the confidence he’s come to expect from you in the past. Steve can’t deny— he adores it. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“God,” Steve groans. He shoves his face into his hands and turns around, his back to you. His words are muffled over his shoulder. “Don’t even ask me that right now.” 

Another laugh titters out of you. Steve can’t resist peering over his shoulder. The steam curls out through the gap of the door, leaving dew on your skin. You look ethereal, like a dewy angel from a dream.

“Alright,” you relent playfully. You’re fighting a smile and losing, badly. Steve yearns. “Can you please pass me my bag?” 

This next time the door opens again and you step out, there’s less tantalising skin to tease Steve and his wandering mind. There’s still a flash of wet skin, the curve between your shoulder and neck. Steve wants to lick it, kiss it, devour it til the skin beneath is riddled with the bruises of a lover. 

For a moment, you’re simply admired — Steve’s eyes on you, adoring and soft, as you creep out the bathroom like you don’t want to make too much noise. 

You notice in your absence Steve has cajoled a little tray table into his room, tucked up at the foot of his bed. Atop it sits a chunky television, antennae sticking up in perfectly straight lines. The ones at home on yours are slightly warped from all the readjusting. 

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s on the bed this time, and while he doesn’t get up this time, he sits up straighter as you emerge from the bathroom. You put your bag down, abandoning it by the door and try to quell your nerves. 

Steve, unless he’s somehow obtained x-ray vision and hadn’t told you, can’t see the nice matching set you’ve got beneath your comfy clothes. 

He won’t see it— unless this night goes where you think it might, where you hope it might, but even still, the thought manages to make you fluster. 

“Hi.” You say back, voice closer to a whisper. 

The bed sinks beneath your weight as you climb on to situate yourself beside Steve. He’s all soft corners and crinkled eyes, his arm raised up in an instant for you to tuck yourself under. Even warmer in his arms, your heart delights when he gives you a little squeeze.

“Alright, movie time!” The television at the foot of the bed pulls Steve away from you. He unwinds his arm enough to crawl down the bed. The grey ringer shirt he has one slips forward a bit and at your angle, you can catch more than a sliver of his tan tummy. 

Without thinking, your thighs press together tightly as heat flares between them. You can trace the alluring wiry trail of hair with your eyes until it disappears into his pyjama pants, continuing out of sight. A part of your wants. 

You want to see where it goes, want to curl your fingers into his waistband and work it downwards, you want find out if the moles go all the way down his thighs like you hope they do.

Hunger sinks its teeth into your skin; a hunger you’ve been getting more and more familiar with. 

“Okay, pervert,” Steve’s cheeky remark shakes you from your thoughts and you start to stammer. He’s clearly caught you staring. “Can’t say I blame you for ogling—“ 

“I was not—“  

“— because I have been told before that I have a very distracting and attractive behind.” 

You sputter and despite your best efforts, a little laugh splutters through as well because well, yeah, he’s not wrong — but your brain is stuck on repeat with something else entirely. 

Tummy, tummy, tummy, the hair on his tummy, the hair leading down into his pants.   

“Yeah, uh huh, okay, Harrington,” You slump back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh, clearly teasing. “If you say so.” 

The television flickers to life right as Steve lunges back towards you with all the energy of a labrador puppy. He squishes down onto you so quickly that you actually squeal in surprise. 

“Oh, I’m back to just Harrington now?” He pouts, squeezing even closer to you. You’re laughing, flattened beneath him in a way that you can’t even wiggle your arms out. He’s draped across you dramatically. You trust him completely. 

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“I thought my name was,” He leans closer and kisses your neck. “Boyfriend. Or baby. Orrrrrr,” 

He kisses up your neck and onto your cheek. His hazel eyes are bright, crinkled in his grin so much that his lashes kiss in the corner. He kisses your nose. “Handsome.” 

“Mmmhm,” you revel in the never-ending affection, glowing from the inside with happiness. You wiggle your arms to make Steve push himself up, just enough to free them from being smothered against your chest. Free to roam, your hands find the sides of his face. 

“What about…” You begin. Steve watches you closely, evidently gleeful from the touchiness of your hands. He pushes into your palm, turning to kiss it fast. “My snookums.” 

You exaggerate the word, your voice going all sugary to butter it up. You watch as emotions ripple across Steve’s face— the twitch in his nose as he tries not to outright frown at you. How polite he is. 

It’s only as he catches the grin spreading across your face, wicked and just loving watching him squirm at the terrible pet-name, does he catch on to your jest. A sigh of relief and a chuckle whooshes out of him at once. 

“Oh, thank God you’re joking.” He drops all his weight into your waiting hands, grinning when you let his face flops forward into your chest. His words are completely muffled as he speaks into your chest. “That could’ve been serious grounds for a breakup.”

You huff a laugh and nudge him up best you can. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. Your movie is starting.” 

Steve’s head pops up, his head twisting back towards the television like he had forgotten about its existence until you had mentioned it. 

“Oh true,” He says. He pushes up off you to sit himself up, shuffling back so instead you can lean on him. Re-situating his arms around you, Steve hums absentmindedly as he throws a leg over you, tangling it with yours. Thoroughly intertwined, you both sink back into the pillows. 

The credits roll up and off the screen, the first five minutes of the film whisked away while you and Steve were settling down. Now, the opening scene begins, the grainy picture on the screen buzzing as it plays the VHS. 

You get approximately two minutes of silence, your and Steve’s heads turned towards the television, until distraction kicks in.

You do your best to ignore it as his head turns towards you, your eyes still focused on the screen, but all your attention runs to Steve. He nudges a little closer to you, his nose pressing into your temple and right as you realise he’s smelling you, he says— 

“Did you use my body wash?” 

You freeze. 

“I— was I not supposed to?” Your voice comes out a bit weaker than intended. 

Steve lets out a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, only worrying you further. He starts to shift around a bit, retracting his leg back an inch, his nose no longer nudging close along your temple; all actions that contrast his assuring words. 

“No, no, no, it’s fine, you’re fine—“ Despite his words, he shifts again. His hips shuffle backward, one of his hands moving down subtlety as he can to fuss with his pyjama pants. 

It takes about two more seconds for you to get it — clued in by Steve’s suddenly scarlet cheeks and his embarrassed expression. 

Your mouth drops open a bit unwittingly. 

“Are you—“ 

“Yes.” Steve grates out. He abandons fixing the growing tent in his pants to cover his face with his hands, rolling slightly away from you. You can feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him. His words are slightly muffled from behind his palms. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean— I didn’t even realise that was something that got me going until, like, right this second.”  

It’s adorable that he’s so flustered and that he’s apologising. You’ve never had that happen before. You’ve never had someone so conscious of how it might seem— never someone like Steve who doesn’t seem to come with any expectations. 

A thread of relief jolts through you. It reaffirms what you already know; anything you want to do will be done on your terms. 

And with his eyes covered up, if you glance down at his pants for good hard look…. well, that’s between you and the universe.

“Steve,” your fingers curl around one of his wrists, tugging it gently. You try to coax his face out of hiding, your smile somewhere between giggly and endeared. “It’s— it’s okay, really, you don’t have to apologise. I— I mean, I’m honestly flattered.” 

Steve deflates a bit, torn between relief and his still persistent concern. He had made a committed plan that he wouldn’t make any moves until you initiated it first and yet, here he was, like every other male in Hawkins. Popping a boner the moment you settle down to innocently cuddle. God, he’s the worst!

A pout forms on his lips. He wishes he could rewind the last 2 minutes and spend the whole movie holding his breath. 

“What is it about the body wash?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, given the way his other hand drops off from covering his face. He blinks up at you, cheeks still with a hint of cherry red. 

“I- I dunno.” He admits. “Like I said I didn’t even realise that…” 

Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again. He clears his throat. “That would have that effect on me.” 

Something within you preens, a fire stoked by his honest admission; a zing shooting down your spine because you don’t think you will ever get used to hearing how Steve wants you.

“Well,” you begin, the word more timid than you hoped it would be. You clear your throat and cast a glance at the television, feigning casualness. “If I was the cause…” 

You let your hand come up, brushing across his warm tummy. Look up at him through your lashes, hoping, praying it looks sexier than you’re feeling— which is somewhere between flustered and foolish.

Still, Steve’s throat bobs. You watch his eyes dart down to your lingering hand, an inch or so above his waistband. 

“Maybe, I can be the remedy.” 

A tiny groan scrapes out of Steve’s throat, like he would love nothing more. Even so, he pins you with a sincere look, hazel eyes burning into yours. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He assures you. “I mean—“ He coughs awkwardly. “It will go away, uh, in time.” 

“I’m aware how it works, Steve.” 

“Oh, are you?” Steve jokes— laughing when you wallop him in the chest. He grabs your hand, stopping your assault mid-motion with a cheeky smile. “Okay! Okay, I deserved that.” 

He releases your hand and you let it fall onto his chest. Nerves prickle beneath your skin but with them is something new, something you’ve only gained since your time with Steve; anticipation. 

Steeling your anxiety, you let your hand trail down his chest slowly— enough time that he could halt you before you embarrassed yourself. But he doesn’t. Steve watches you closely, his chest rising and falling a bit harder as your hand nears his waistband. 

This time, you don’t stop. You let your fingers brush over the tented fabric hesitantly, torn between wanting to watch your hand or to see his face. As confidently as you can, you palm across his bulge— feeling the heat of his hard length thickening up under your hand. 

Steve groans lowly. 

You look up at him as you rub him softly, taking in his large pupils and pink lips. He’s watching you too, his eyes darting between your face and the hand on his cock. 

“Is this okay?” You check. The movie crackles on in the background, idle noise. Steve nods quickly, a curl of his hair falling down onto his forehead. 

“Yeah,” He says, voice breathier than it was a minute ago. You try out a harder rub, beginning to feel out the shape of his cock, and you curl your fingers around it. Steve groans again, a little bit louder, his eyelashes fluttering. 

Still, he composes himself enough to ask, “Is this okay for you?” 

“Hmmm,” you draw out the noise, the smile on your face giving away your faux-thinking. You squeeze him again, right as you murmur, “Maybe make that noise again and I’ll see.” 

But any noise he makes is captured in your mouth as he surges forward, one of his hands curling up under your jaw. His fingers slide into your hair and his lips are sweet and soft, hungry for more against your own. 

You can’t help but melt under his kisses, body relaxing into the sheets as you let yourself be kissed breathlessly. A warmth pools deep within your chest, drooling down into your stomach. Anticipations sinks in. Your thighs rub together. 

Losing the nerve and the focus, your hand slips up to cup at Steve’s hip— but if he cares, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes it as a cue to press forward, leaning his weight onto on his elbows to hold his weight as he shifts up, his lips never leaving yours. 

It’s one smooth motion, the way he slips a leg between your own, his body held up and hovering above yours. He kisses, slow and languid. You ache. Your lips haven’t ever been so kissed before. 

It isn’t until his thigh shifts up and presses just right do you notice it properly — unable to swallow your shallow gasp, lips halting against Steve’s as a bolt of pleasure blooms deep in your gut. Your eyelashes flutter, a shadow of embarrassment threatening your cheeks. 

“S’okay?” Steve whispers, not relenting any of his closeness. His lips brush yours. 

You nod gently, a quiet hum sounding in your throat. You’re not entirely sure you can form words right now. Not when it feels like your heartbeat is everywhere — when you can feel the heat between your legs, the tightness of your nipples as they peak, the undeniable thrum of lust building within you. 

And certainly not when you can feel Steve, his hardness pressed up against your thigh, his pupils bigger than usual. They’re ringed in that hazel you love— a colour that might be your new favourite ever. 

Fuck, you’re in deep. What an incredibly sappy thought to have while you’re getting hot and bothered. Did Steve think that way about you too? Think about the colour of your eyes while he kissed your mouth?

“I…” You finally find your voice and Steve pulls back a couple inches so he can see you properly. His eyes dart over your face adoringly, his lips rosy red from all the kisses and quirked into a smile. He looks at you as if you’re everything. 

“I want to…” You say, unable to find the words to finish your sentence. Embarrassment winds up inside you, ready to spring free but Steve seems uncaring at your hesitance. 

“You wanna what?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth with a hum. Endlessly patient. Somehow your stomach churns a little faster at that. Nerves stand up on their end, a thousand uneasy prickles over your body. 

“I want to.” You say this time, firmer. “Do more.” 

It still sounds too mousy coming out and you see a flicker of something on Steve’s face. 

“If you do, I mean.” You add on quickly. “I want to if you do.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, like the idea of checking in with him was a bit absurd. His gaze roams over your face slowly, taking his fine time just looking at you. He looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to say. 

He lands on, “You don’t seem sure.” 

Your heart flip-flops at the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his concern evident. He fixes you with a serious, sincere look.

You nod, your hair scrunching up against the pillow as you do. “I am. I just…” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and worry it, thinking of how to put this. You’ve said it before, you’ve told him how it was in the past, how you hadn’t enjoyed it and yet…

Feeling too squirmish under Steve’s intense stare, you avert your eyes to look at the ceiling and swallow the knot in your throat. 

Your voice comes out a whisper. “I want to try but I’m not sure— I just I can’t promise that I’ll- that y’know, I—” 

Eyes crushing closed, you try to seize your bubbling anxiety before it seizes you. This is Steve. You trust him wholly. Just a moment ago you were thinking about how much you like him and—

“Hey,” Steve murmurs lowly, nudging his nose into yours. Your eyes open. He smiles softly when he says, “I have no interest in doing something you don’t enjoy.” 

The protest flounders up inside you before you can stop it. “But—“ 

“So,” He cuts you off pointedly. “If we give it a go and you don’t like it, that’s okay. We can just figure out what you do enjoy, okay?“

For a long moment, you just stare up at him.  

“Yeah? So we can just try and if it… If I…” You flounder for words, sounding like you think it must be too good to be true. You stare up at the ceiling as you try to verbalise the biggest hurdle, the final niggling worry.

You peer back up at Steve’s face. “You… you wouldn’t be disappointed if we started but then I wanted to stop?” 

Some emotion shutters across Steve’s face, a flash of devastation. You mistake it for annoyance. 

An unwelcome hitch suddenly twists in your stomach. “I'm sorry, I know that you— we already- last time, we talked about this and I should know—“ 

“Stop it,” Steve interrupts with a soft shake of his head. “Stop doing that, it’s fine to feel unsure or- or to not know what you like. It takes time and experience to figure what you do like.” 

His hand shifts up, brushing the hair back from your forehead. He leaves it there, the warmth of his hand a comfort. His fingers curl lightly into your hair. 

“That’s all I wanna do,” He breathes softly, his lips tugging up at the corners. He looks unbearably earnest, his brown eyes shining. “Just wanna do what you like. Wanna figure out what you like.” 

He leans down and kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then that soft sensitive spot under your ear. You squirm but this time for all the right reasons. 

“Y’want me to do that?” He murmurs. 

You’re breathing a little heavier and when Steve nips at your earlobe sparingly, just a love bite and a flash of teeth, your breath catches loudly. Desire surges through you, hot and straight between your legs. 

It takes another moment to remember he’s asked you a question. 

“Yeah…” you breathe. You wanna nod but you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I wanna do that. Wanna— wanna learn what you like too.” 

Steve hums, a pleased sound, and he kisses languidly at your neck. His lips, soft and plush, scrape against your skin in a way that gathers heat low in your gut. Your hips tilt forward an inch, moving against his thigh almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah?” 

The way he says it, the way the word rolls out of his mouth, all husky and low, makes your nipples peak. 

“We get to learn together, hm?” He kisses your neck again. The soft press of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth have you gripping the sheets, almost white knuckled. 

Suddenly, you can’t stand to not be touching him. Your hands fly from the sheets, fingers curling around his midriff, feeling at the warm skin. His t-shirt is warmed by him. You slip your hands beneath it as he bites where your shoulder meets your neck, soft enough to make you sigh. 

Your hand finds skin. Finally, finally, you get your hands on that damned happy trail that’s been all but haunting your daydreams for the past months. 

As Steve kisses down your neck, you trace the line of hair with your finger slowly. Your thumb strokes the coarse hair all the way down to his waistband, gentle and hungry all at once— trying to commit it all to memory. Unwittingly, Steve shivers at the motion. 

“Fuck,” his breath shudders against your neck. He tucks his face in closer, fighting the urge to press his body up against yours and grind. You feel the twitch in his hips anyway. “You drive me crazy.” 

“Me too,” you gasp when he pulls off your neck, blowing cool air across the heated skin he’s been dedicating himself to. You wonder if a bruise will come up, beautiful and kiss-bitten. You clench a little at the thought, the heat between your thighs only increasing. 

A mark from him— a mark of a lover. 

You want to give one to him too. Managing to remember you can do things with your hands, other than just pawing at his back, you shift them up to curl into his hair. Tugging gently, you coax his face up enough so you can nose alone the length of his neck. 

Steve’s panting and you can hear his breath catch when you start planting kiss after kiss on his skin— dragging your bottom lip across those glorious moles you adore so much. 

Without meaning to, you press him back and Steve lets himself roll back onto the mattress, his hands tugging you closer. You take the invitation and struggle for a moment to get up over his hips, one leg too tangled in the blanket on the bed. 

“My leg,” you laugh weakly, having to retract a hand from his hair to free it. When you do, you settle down, straddling his hips, and try not to lose your confidence. Still, you can’t help apologising. “Sorry.” 

Steve peers up at you lovingly, frowning a little when you apologise. “What? No, it’s fine.” 

He shifts one hand and grabs the loose blanket beside you and then hefts it up, throwing it as far as he can off the bed with a grunt. It lands somewhere behind you with a soft noise. 

“Blanket’s fault.” He says, brown eyes back on you. “Freaking cockblock. I got rid of him, babe, don’t worry.” 

You snort a little, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips.

“My hero.” You murmur sarcastically against them. 

“Ooh, say that again, baby,” Steve moans exaggeratedly, throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatic, his eyes screwed shit.  

You laugh, unknowingly relaxing a little further into him. You swat at his chest. 

“Steve.” 

“Oh!” He moans again, all girlish and fake, and twists his head in the other direction. “I love it when you say my name like I’m an idiot!” 

You gasp, but it’s still hidden in your laughter as you hit his chest again, for a different reason this time. 

“Don’t say that!” You say genuinely. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

Steve drops the act, his eyes creasing open to shine up at you. He’s glowing beneath you, cheeks a bit flushed and grinning like he’s a little bit in love with you. You think he might be. 

“No, you don’t.” He agrees. He soothes his hands up and down your sides. “Only idiot is that idiot who let you think there was anything wrong with you.” 

“Ugh,” you scoff. “Please don’t bring him up ever again— least of all when we’re in bed.” 

Steve squeezes your sides gently and smiles up at you like he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said. “Noted.” 

And then you kiss him. 

For a couple of minutes it’s this easy, lazy making out that you love. Though, it’s like there’s a furnace turning up beneath you both, the intensity getting more feverish with every kiss. When Steve finally pulls back from you, panting, he looks as flustered as you feel. 

“Can I take these off?” 

His fingers are curled into the waistband of your pyjama pants. You nod before you can overthink it, letting him shimmy them down your thighs and settling yourself down on the comforter. Steve sits up a bit beside you, to tug them down your legs and off your ankles. 

Steve’s focus is on his hands but your gaze is stuck on his face— and you watch as he tosses your pants behind him carelessly. His eyes fix on your cunt, hidden away behind your lacy panties. 

“Woah,” he murmurs softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He leans down on his elbows, one arm on either side of your hips and pings the elastic on the cutest lingerie you own. “These are very pretty.” 

He sounds like he means it, his voice tinged with lust. It gives you a moment of confidence. 

“Yeah?” You ask. You slide your hands up, pushing your shirt up gingerly as you to reveal the matching bra to him.

Even from your distance, you can see how Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing way out. “You like them?” 

Steve let’s out a pained noise as his head flops over, his nose pressed into your hipbone. One of his hands reaches down between his legs, adjusting himself in his pants. 

He looks back up at you, hair a bit mussed, and pouts.

“That’s not fair! That’s so not fair. Did you plan this? Blindside me by wearing my body wash and then surprise me with matching lingerie?” 

The way he says it, all faux accusatory, makes you grin. He sits up long enough to tug his own shirt off, discarding it behind him, and crawls up the bed to kiss you. You catch a glint of the single chain he wears around his neck before he's kissing you.

“You—” Kiss. “look—” Kiss. “so—” Kiss. “fuckin’—” Kiss. “hot.” 

He pulls back, taking a moment to just gaze at you before he leans back further, scuttling down the sheets til he’s paused between above your legs. 

Something within you flares hotly at the memory of the last time he was in the position. You feel a warm pulse in your cunt, a trickle of slick coating your panties. Your hips shift an inch— half nerves, half anticipation.

Steve kisses you over your panties, like last time, the first chaste and on your clit. The next is a little lower, a little slower, his lips parting further and his tongue pressing languidly against your core. You squirm, breathing a little heavier. 

His hands grips gently at your hips, moving up to smooth over your thighs. He lets his fingers slip forward, the tips of them pressing lightly into your inner thighs. He pulls them further apart and ruins you a bit when he kisses sweet along the skin of your thigh. 

“I’m pretty sure we could just do this every time and I’d be happy,” Steve says, but it’s paired a chuckle fringed with nerves.

He looks up at you and you realise it is a bit of nervousness— like he’s worried you might find it embarrassing just how much he likes it. 

Your blood hums in response, warmer, all of it rushing down your body. You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you say, “Yeah?” 

Steve smiles, that flash of nervousness already gone or cleverly hidden. He gives your thighs a gentle squeeze with his large hands and rubs his cheek up against one of them. 

“Are you kidding me? I think I’d do anything you wanted just to hear those noises you made again.” 

Your lips part slightly in surprise. He’s always so startlingly honest and forward with his feelings but, somehow, it still manages takes you by surprise— that he’s not at all shy about how much he likes you. 

Scrambling for an appropriately sexy response, you come up blank and instead decide to press your thighs together. Between them, Steve’s cheeks squish forward, his lips forming an absurdly funny pout. 

“Hey!” He exclaims.

It comes out a little muffled with his face squidged up and the mixture of both his face and voice makes you laugh. You release him, legs falling apart, feeling the breath of his laugh again your skin. 

“Kidding, you can warm my ears anytime you want, honey,” He’s still grinning up at you when he says it. Part of you know he’s being completely serious. 

Your gut burns low. You resist the urge to squirm, feeling the heat chase down to your cunt. It’s hard to relax when he manages to make you feel so keyed up. 

“Stop getting distracted.” You jest. 

“You stop getting distracted,” He jibes back, but his focus drifts back down, his eyes darkening with a fiery lust. 

He rubs the skin of your thighs again, soothingly, and lets one hand creep forward til his knuckles are brushing up against the edge of your panties. His thumb presses forward, into the wet spot you’ve soaked through. 

Even so, he still asks, “How we doin’? Still feeling good?” 

You nod quickly, then think verbal confirmation is probably far better. “Yeah, still good.” 

Realising you’re staring up at the ceiling, hard, you flick your eyes down between your legs. Even if it doesn’t feel particularly sexy, you still have to say it. “Thank you for checking.” 

“Of course,” Steve says. He pinches the elastic of your panties lightly, his eyebrows raising in question. “Gonna take these off, yeah? Then you let me know if you don’t like anything I’m doing.” 

Despite your history, a huge part of you wants to say yeah, fat chance of that because yeah, you’re beginning to wonder if your boyfriend has some genuinely magical fingers. And a magical mouth. And wait, does that mean his co—

The thought gets ripped away as you feel your panties get tugged downwards and you quickly lift your hips to help. Though he’s seen you bare before, it’s impossible to stop the flush that rolls through your body, hot and tinged with embarrassment. You want to close your legs but Steve between them prevents that from happening. 

“Here,” Steve hums, reaching a hand up to scoop up your own from the bedsheets.

He gives it a quick kiss on the palm and then moves it up to land in his hair. “You let me know how m’doing, okay?” 

Your fingers curl into his brunette locks automatically and grip tightly when he leans in, his hot tongue dipping between your folds. Pleasure drips into your body as he begins to lick softly, his skilled tongue finding your bundle of nerves quickly and twisting around it. 

Heat builds. You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy it, soft pants escaping your lips as Steve kisses and suckles where you’re most sensitive, til there’s a moan lacing every breath. 

Fuck, he’s so good at this. How is he so good at this? 

One of his hands on your thighs starts to knead gently as the other one slides forward, til his thumb is rested at your slicked entrance. He hasn’t stopped sucking on your clit but your sudden sharp inhale catches his attention. 

“Sorry,” you say instinctively. 

“It’s fine,” Steve soothes, his thumb circling around your soaked hole, which clenches in response.

He kisses your thigh. Desire burns you up from within, your fingers twisting a little tighter in his hair, giving away your nerves. 

“We’re just figuring out what you like, yeah?” He muses, his words half comfort, half lust. 

You nod but don’t speak, trying to trust him enough to let his words calm you. Steve gives you a moment to breathe before he resumes the work with his mouth, his hot mouth suckling at your clit once again. 

He waits until you’re back to those quiet, shy lusty little noises before he tries again, prodding softly at your entrance in warning before he gently sinks his finger in. You gasp again, hands tightening in his hair — as something molten hot shoots right up your spine. 

“Steve,” you cry out his name. It feels... good, which feels like a fucking miracle in itself. He begins to fuck the finger in and out slowly, still lapping at your clit. A heat that you’ve only felt once before starts to nip at your skin, bleeding into each nerve. 

Your panting grows heavier and without meaning to, you clench down around him, desperate for a little more. 

“See, you like that one, huh?” Steve mumbles against you, his dark eyes flashing up to take in your face contorted in pleasure. His cock thickens unbearably in his pants, too confined. You nod, hair scrunching up against the pillow. 

“Yea—yes,” You say, feeling your hips rock down an inch. You want more of that. 

Steve obliges, more than willingly, adding another finger. It slides in with little resistance. It’s hotter than anything else to get to see you like this, pliant and horny, rocking your hips against his mouth. 

To get to make you like this— sucking on your cute little clit and fucking his fingers in, hearing the adorable squelch of your wetness. You’re so turned on it makes his brain melt a bit, the way you’re leaking all over his fingers. Steve’s cock throbs desperately— but he wants to make sure you’re stretched out enough to take him. If you want that, that is.

He eases one more finger in, keeping a careful watch on your face to see how you take it. You keen beautifully, back arching slightly as he curls his fingers and begins to stretch you out. 

You pant deliriously, these tiny whimpers beginning to slip out your throat. Steve wishes he could see your face, the cute scrunch of your brows as you moan— but happily settles for latching his lips back onto your cunt. 

Three fingers feel even better than two, you find, as you grip the sheets tightly— you’re throbbing but in this torturous way, balancing on the edge of too much and not enough. There’s a hint of pain lingering at the back, but not enough to distract you from the pleasure. 

It takes you by surprise then, when the pleasure suddenly tapers off, your eyes creasing up open and head popping up. You realise Steve is slowly stopping, his slick fingers slipping out of you as he sits back up a bit. 

“Why’d you stop?” You say without thinking.

Flushing, you quickly follow it up. “Every— everything okay?” 

God, you sound wiped. Your chest is still heaving and your clit twitches, missing the stimulation of your boyfriend’s mouth. The air smells honeyed and perfumed with sex. 

“You tell me,” Steve murmurs sweetly, his lips grazing the inside of your knee in an almost kiss. “You said you wanted to do more. Is this enough more?” 

Your heart nearly bursts in the pure consideration. God, he’s so fucking nice to you. So unbothered to take things your pace, so attuned to making you feel good. You know that you could happily do this more for the rest of the night. 

But it’s not what you had in mind — and the longer you wait, the more you’re beginning to crave getting Steve to a similar state you’re in. Moaning, flushed in the face, his hands buried in your hair. 

“We can do more,” You say, your voice dropping back into that shy whisper. 

Steve watches you closely, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh dotingly. 

You clear your throat and speak a little louder. “I wanna do more.” 

“Yeah?” Steve says, his grin growing. He huffs and shakes his head a little, dropping your gaze. 

“I mean, believe me, even if we just—“ He gestures vaguely between your thighs. “— did this all night? Night well spent.” 

You know he means it, especially with his hungry gaze that dips back down, his tongue slipping out to lick his bottom lip briefly.

You press up onto one elbow and reach out one hand, hooking your finger over the one single chain he wears. There’s a ring looped on it, the one you gave him as a promise, and just the sight of it makes you glow inside. 

You tug the chain forward lightly and him with it, Steve shifting up the bed til you’re nearly face to face, his frame hovering above you. The beds dips beneath his hands as they crawl up to either side of your waist, his intense eyes locking onto your face. He might be holding his breath. 

Swallowing, you move up and press your lips to his in a slow, soft kiss. It turns deeper, hotter, heavier. You swipe your tongue into his mouth and Steve lets out a pitiful noise in response, pressing his mouth against yours desperately. 

Drawing back with a little gasp, you open your eyes and repeat your earlier sentiment, “I want to do more.” 

Steve watches you, his exhale shaking slightly. You dot a kiss on his cheek quick, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“I want to do more with you.” 

A kiss on his other cheek, just as fast. Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch.

“I want to do more, right now.” 

Steve smiles splits into a grin, his eyes shining as he chuckles, the sound doused in fondness. “Okay, okay, I got the message,” He murmurs. 

Pushing back to sit on his heels, he turns and rummages around in his bedside table for a moment. You lay back on the pillows and try catch your breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it’s stolen once more. 

When Steve pulls back, there’s a row of condoms in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. He tears off one of the condoms and throws the rest of them behind him without thought.

You can’t help but tilt your head up, neck straining a bit, not wanting to look away for a moment as Steve raises onto his knees and pushes his boxers down. His cock kicks up, released from its confines with a soft slap against his happy trail. 

Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.

And look, you’ve seen a dick before, okay? It’s pretty hard to sleep with someone and not see one, unless you have your eyes closed the entire time. 

But Steve’s cock is… pretty. 

Pink and aching, the head of it slick with a bit of pre-cum— that you realise he’s gotten from being worked up whilst eating you out. You gush a little at the dizzying thought. 

You want to touch it — or put it in your mouth so you can drool over it, can suck on it, can feel the heady weight of it on your tongue. Or, as you realise what the ache of your cunt means, you really, really want him to fuck you with it. 

Instinct drives your thighs apart, beckoning him between them. Steve’s eyes darken as he notes the motion, moving a bit more hastily to tear the condom packet open. He rolls it down his length, quick and precise. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, reaching out for the lube and drizzling a generous amount into his palm. He keeps the bottle within reach as he slicks it over his heavy cock, a beautiful groan pushing out his throat as he does. 

“Okay,” He says again, a little breathier than before. Shuffling forward, Steve lines himself up with your core gently before halting. His eyes dart up to your face.

“You let me know if there’s anything you don’t like or you wanna stop.” 

You nod, his ardent care only serving to fuel your lust. You’ll coo over it in the afterglow— right now you want to be around him, want to feel him pulsing inside you, want to feel full where you’re suddenly feeling so, so empty. 

Steve shifts forward, beginning to sink into you with a low groan of pleasure. 

The first few seconds are bliss — Steve’s done his job well at warming you up and something hungry awakens with a burst of pleasure as you take the first few inches.

Then, something a little more uncomfortable joins the mix. 

You try not to squirm, disappointment inflating as your pleasure is robbed by the twinges of pain. It’s not unbearable but you’re enjoying yourself less. Steve moves in another inch and then discomfort abruptly becomes pain.

You inhale sharply, teeth gritted together, and Steve stops moving in an instant. 

“Woah, y’okay?” 

You nod, even as your eyes slip shut. Half of this is a mental game, you know that—you’ll never loosen up if you don’t try to relax. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly, voice a bit tight. “Just— just gimme a minute.” 

Steve murmurs a quiet sure but after a moment he says, “Wait, lemme—“ and moves forward so he’s hovering above you instead of sitting back, your faces much closer now. The jostling doesn’t help but having Steve closer does. 

He keeps his hips as still as he can and kisses your cheek. You don’t open your eyes just yet, willing yourself desperately to relax, to enjoy it. You take a deep breath.

“We can stop,” Steve whispers. 

You shake your head. Creasing your eyes open, you move your hands up so you can twine them around Steve’s neck in almost a hug. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek again, then steals a kiss from your lips. 

“I wanna—“ You gasp, frustration mounting at how the pain doesn’t seem to be subsiding. You sound miserable as you cling to him closer. “I want this to work.” 

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” Steve responds, his arm shifting up so he can trace his thumb over your cheekbone. 

The movement moves his hips forward another inch, pain spiking so severely that you wince aloud, your face pinched in discomfort. That’s all it takes for Steve to shift back, easing out of you gently. You’re devastated at the relief that follows. 

“Okay, I’m not doing that if it hurts you—“ 

“It wasn’t,” You lie fruitlessly. You know Steve heard your wince—but maybe if you lie, you can trick your body. 

Hands coming up to cover your face, you scrunch your eyes up, annoyed at how they sting with tears so quickly. Your voice is all wobbly when you say, “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, I really want this to work, Steve.” 

Steve aches at your words, moving in to tug at your hands. His voice is soft, sweet.

“Hey, hey, I know that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t let him in, hands still shielding your face. He kisses your knuckles instead, his thumbs swiping up and down your wrists comfortingly. 

He waits a moment before he continues, voice buttery soft, “I know you want this. It’s not your fault if your body only likes it some ways and not others. You can’t control that and I know that.”  

You take one deep breath and it shudders as you inhale, sounding far too teary for Steve’s liking. He tugs at your wrists again, relieved when you let him pull them away tentatively. You aren’t crying but you look damn near close. 

“What’s got you so upset, huh?” Steve coos, nuzzling in close, his nose brushing against yours.

He releases your wrists to cup your face, tender and soft, his brows knit together in his concern. “You know I don’t mind- I told you that I don’t care what we do, just that you’re enjoying it.” 

You take another shaky inhale, a little more stable than the last. Steve can feel how you move to press back against him, nuzzling him back. You take another moment before you reply. 

“I just-“ You start, voice still tight. “It’s so stupid. I wanted it— I wanted to enjoy it. And that doesn’t even seem to matter to my body. It doesn’t even change how it feels and that sucks. Like I can’t control this part of me.” 

Steve listens dutifully, waiting til you finish and your eyes find him.

“Well,” He starts, averting his eyes somewhat sheepishly. “Take everything I say with a grain of salt, okay? But… your body doesn’t hurt just to mess with you, right?” 

He waits a moment for your tentative nod. “Right. So, it’s not for nothing. It’s trying to tell you something and- and ignoring that isn’t having control. You have to listen and work with your body — it’s your partner in all this.” 

“I thought you were my partner,” you whisper, the small smile on your lips giving away your joke. Steve faux rolls his eyes and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I’m your other partner.” He smiles. Then sighs, casting his gaze above your head for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Am I making any sense?” 

Wiggling one hand up, you place it on his cheek tenderly and begin to whisper. “You’re making a lot of sense actually.” 

Steve sighs, leaning his face into the palm of your hand with a huff. “Well, that’s a relief.” 

For a minute, there’s only quiet. Your emotions come down from their swell and you take the time to admire the beautiful boy above you, who seems to be doing just the same to you. 

After a moment of time, you clear your throat and say, “Can we try again?” 

Steve seems to think on it for a moment before he nods, turning to kiss your palm. 

“This is gonna make me sound like a total guy,” He says, words muffled against your hand. His brown eyes flash up to yours, darting between them. “But maybe we should try from the back. Like, different angle and all.” 

You snort, unable to hold it in because it does sound like such a guy thing to say. Even so, you give a little nod, eager to try something else. You don’t even want to acknowledge the mounting dread around disappointing Steve — even with all his assurances, you can’t help but feel as though this has been one gigantic let down. 

As Steve shifts back, you become suddenly aware of the lubed up slick spot on your thigh where Steve's cock was resting and scrunch your nose with a laugh. Peering down, you drag a finger through the wetness left on it. 

“Ew,” you laugh. 

“Ew?” Steve echoes incredulously. “Alright, that’s it.” His sits up and back, his hands darting down lightning fast, manoeuvring you all of sudden. He hooks his hands under your hips and lifts, twisting so you’re suddenly splayed on your front. 

You’re giggling all the while, drunk on the feeling of your boyfriend’s hands as they trail up your sides. The hair of his tanned scrapes against your back as he leans in, mouthing along your shoulder towards your neck. 

You find your knees and prop yourself up on them, lifting your hips off the sheets of Steve’s bed. At the angle he’s draped himself over you, it’s a perfect line up of his cock with your cunt, the head of it teasing your entrance when you push back. 

You're relieved that your emotional moment hadn't killed the mood altogether. That same hot, pulsating want from before tears through you and Steve takes a stuttering breath, the slightest moan in his throat. You feel his forehead press against your shoulder blade, as though he’s trying to compose himself. 

“You-“ He says, the word catching in his throat. As if unable to help himself, his hips grind forward, pushing his aching cock between your slick folds. You make pitiful, keening noises in response, a thread of pleasure run through the two of you. 

“You ready?” Steve asks shakily. He relents some of his closeness to grab the lube, giving another generous drizzle into his palm to slather over himself. 

“Please,” you whisper, pushing yourself back an inch. 

This time when Steve pushes himself in, the bliss stretches out, lasting more than just the first couple seconds. You make a high, breathy sigh of a noise and your head drops forward. 

Steve pauses, his breathing on the ragged side, and checks in. “Still feeling okay?” 

You nod feverishly, a whine building up in your throat that threatens to escape if Steve doesn’t move. Or maybe if he does move. You can’t tell — can’t tell anything other than how good it feels to have him inside you, hot and throbbing. 

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “Yeah, keeping going, please,” 

Steve grunts, complying in an instant, sinking his cock further in. Something inside you tightens up again— but it’s not nearly as noticeable as last time. Still, Steve recognises it and he slows for a moment. 

“I’m okay,” you assure breathily, face nearly pressed into the bed. You need him to keep moving. 

And he does; his cock sinks in another inch right as his hand creeps around your hip, searching for something blindly. You barely get one moment of confusion before his calloused fingers drag through the slick on your cunt and move up, pushing against your clit purposefully. 

You moan, loud and high. The friction of your clit is enough to make your thighs spread a little wider and your hips move back before you even realise what you’re doing, almost the rest of Steve’s cock sinking inside you. It feels good but something else pinches up inside you.

Steve moans, muffling the sound into your skin as he hides his face in your neck. 

You pant, suddenly dreading how you can feel the prick of pain on the fringes of your pleasure if Steve stretches you too far. "Don't- n-not too much," You warn gently, the words all breathy, still swathed in your pleasure. "I—uh— fuck, I don't think I can take it all."

You feel Steve's nod against the back of your neck, accompanied by a low hum in his throat.

“Y-yeah, okay,” He stammers. His hips roll forward and he follows your word, not quite pushing all the way in. "F-Fuck."

His breath is hot on your neck and the sudden urge for his kiss is nearly overwhelming. Even not facing him, the way Steve drapes himself around you, gentle even with how he grinds his hips into yours, feels intimate. Your cunt gives a soft squelch. 

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, stilling completely — the feeling of you wrapped around him is enough to nearly push him to the edge. He screws his eyes closed and whimpers, trying to keep himself together. 

“Y’okay?” You whisper breathily after a couple of moments, forehead pressed into the sheets. Your hips move just a little bit, shifting in a little circle so his cock slides out an inch, his fingertips grazing across your clit again. 

“I—ngh-“ Another whine slips out from his throat at your movement and Steve’s hand slips back, gripping your hip tightly. “Jesus Christ. Y-Yeah I’m good, just trying not to— fuck- end this too quickly.” 

He moves a bit, readjusting him arms to hold weight up a little easier.

“But you’re really wet and, like, really warm,” He grunts, almost accusingly. “And I really like you, so,” 

You can’t help it — a little laugh titters out of you, one of pure delight because Steve is sincere about his feelings. The laugh only serves to make Steve groan louder. 

“Shit,” He gasps, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “You can’t laugh right now, it’s so not helping.” 

“Sorry,” you laugh again, a little more apologetic this time. 

Then, after a moment of gathered bravery, you say, “I don’t think I like this position. I can’t see your face.” 

Steve makes a pained noise from behind you, a breathy and sharp inhale, and suddenly his grip on your hip is twice as tight. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking. Please.” He grits out, voice sounding tight and barely restraining the moan in it. “I’m trying really hard here but you’re making this impossible.” 

Steve shifts on his elbow again, bicep bulging as he lowers himself to one side. His hips press into your backside, sinking himself further into your wet heat, as he settles his weight down onto the mattress. The springs make a noise in protest. 

You’re still closely intertwined, Steve pressed up against you, still throbbing within you, but now it’s more like… you’re spooning.

You settle down too, forcing out an exhale to let yourself melt back into Steve’s chest. 

He lets out a soft groan again but the new position means he can bury his face in your neck properly— and when you turn your head right, he seizes the chance for a kiss. 

He kisses sweet and slow to begin with, plush lips nipping at yours as if you’re not already in the throes of sex. Like he kisses you hello. His nose nudges against yours and he shimmies an arm beneath you on the bed. It curls itself around your stomach and Steve uses it to bring you even closer. 

“Is this better?” He whispers. He nudges his hips for a bit, giving a gentle thrust. Something warm flares at the pit of your belly, hungry for more. “Still okay?” 

You nod, a whimper escaping your throat as you steal another kiss from his lips. “Yes,” You whisper, lips scraping against his, hardly believing it. “Feels— feels good, baby,”

Steve finally gives in to his moan, a beautiful noise that sends heat rushing between your thighs. He begins to move more, building a gentle rhythm as he fucks into you, sensual and adoring all in one. 

Time drips away. You feel much warmer now, pressed up against Steve’s chest, with his kisses all around. One of his hands stays dutifully between your legs, pushing around your bundle of nerves and pulling weak, soft noises from you. The other, you cling to, your fingers twisted as best they can with his.

Pleasure wraps the pair of you up til a soft glow of sex and love settles over the both of you. Steve murmurs doting words, an endless stream of encouragement pouring from his mouth as he nibbles at the shell of your ear. 

Still feelin’ good? Yeah, you are. Just listen to you- sounding so pretty wrapped around my cock. 

Fuck, your pussy makes the cutest noises. So wet f’me, isn’t she? God, you drive me crazy. 

You’re taking me so well, yeah? Being so fuckin’ good f’me- letting me know how you feel. M’so lucky - fuckin’ love— love this with you.

You don’t even realise when every gasp out your mouth has turned into a moan, each breath building and mounting. Your chest heaves and Steve’s motions go from lazy to focused. His hips slow a little but his fingers over your clit speed up, dancing across the nerves perfectly. 

You clutch desperately at the arm he has wrapped around your waist, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulders with your eyes screwed shut. Your hole clenches wildly as you hurtle towards your orgasm— and go right over the edge without warning. 

You make this cute little gasping noise, high pitched and wrapped in a pretty sigh, and Steve doesn't think he's ever heard something so sensual, so pretty. His blood seems to thrum in response, pleasure turning the coil in his gut tighter and tighter.

Euphoria melts into your body and you sag into it with a drawn out soft moan, turning your face to search for Steve’s in an instant. One of your hands darts up, sloppily reaching for the back of his neck, suddenly starved of a kiss. 

You find his lips right as Steve finds his peak— his handsome face screwing up as he all but whines into your mouth. You capture it, some heavy, open mouthed kiss of desperation shared between you. 

Pleasure flows over you, hot and heavy, fuelled by the frantic grinds of Steve’s hips into yours as he whimpers into your mouth. Even though some part of you feels vulgar, another, louder, part of you feels like you've taken part in something sacred. Steve's fierce kiss certain feels akin to something holy.  

After a minute, the euphoria fades. You settle back into your body, feeling the scratch of the cotton sheets beneath you, the sweat of Steve’s chest on your back, the slightly discomfort in between your thighs. 

Steve can feel it, the moment you tense back up, some unwelcome twinge of pain in your gut. He’s shuffling back and pulling out before you even have to ask.

Without his chest to lean on, you roll backward naturally and flop onto your back, still panting lightly. Steve shifts up to hover above you. 

“You good?” He asks, that same breathlessness in his voice. He smiles handsomely, his hair a little limper than usual, flopping over his forehead. He looks gorgeous. “You did great.” 

That almost makes you laugh, the sincere praise so like one might give a child, but Steve seals it with a kiss to your forehead. Your laugh turns into a sheepish but giddy grin. “I’m gonna take the condom off, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears from your line of sight for a minute or two and you can hear him rustling around in his room.

Without any distractions, you suddenly remember the film you’d put on in the beginning, still running at the end of the bed— the final credits are just starting to roll. The streetlights glow a little brighter in the evening dark through the curtains. 

You huff out a breath and your smile comes without even trying. In fact, if Steve hadn’t come back when he did, you’re sure you would’ve started giggle to yourself madly, cocooned in your own contentedness. That same awed, gleeful smile just like the first time round.

“You look like a dope, smiling like that, you know that?”

Steve’s wearing a pair of boxers, green plaid, and he’s got a fresh, warm wash-cloth in his hands. 

"I didn't know that," You muse playfully.

“Hey,” He changes tone to less playful, kneeling on the bed. You notice the change of clothes in his other hand when he throws them onto the duvet beside him. “M’just gonna clean you up a bit, that okay?” 

You’re sure there’s a pinch of embarrassment in you somewhere but, still blissed from your orgasm, you can’t manage to find it. Steve is quick and precise, the warm cloth wiping up any excess sticky fluids. He kisses the inside of your knee when he’s done. 

“All done,” He murmurs, climbing back off the bed in the direction of the bathroom, switching off the television as he does. He gestures to the clothes at the foot of the bed as he walks. “Y’can wear these if you want.” 

Finally feeling less flattened, you shift up to lean on your elbows. He’s grabbed you a pair of his boxers, the matching blue pair to his green, and one of his old Hawkins swim-team shirts. You slip into both quickly, your heart going a bit fuzzy with how soft the shirt is. 

Then you crawl beneath the covers, blood still rushing far faster than usual and a satisfied tiredness beginning to sink into your body. You can't help but thinking it all over — Steve's mouth between your legs, the feel of him sinking into you, the ecstasy of falling apart in his arms.

Part of you hadn't wanted to acknowledge that, well, it fucking worked this time and you enjoyed it. A niggly fear about jinxing it. Like if you pointed it out, it would incite the likelihood of your body turning on you once more. Robbing you of pleasure and experience in equal measure.

But when Steve comes bounding back to the bed, dragging back the covers to join you beneath them, you speak first.

"So, that didn't suck." You say excitedly, biting back your grin as Steve settles down beside you.

Together, you share one pillow as he scooches in closer. His hands reach out, searching for you amongst the sheets. When he finds your hips, he uses them to drag you closer to him, a halfhearted cuddle.

He lets out a puff of air against the pillow, a light snort. "I mean, hopefully it didn't just not suck."

If you had more energy, you might give him a playful shove because you know he knows what you mean. He'd seen the whole display of nervous emotions attached to sex all the way leading up to it.

Instead, heart feeling awfully gooey in your chest, you seize the opportunity to press in closer to him. Your head tucks beneath his chin, your lips barely grazing his throat.

"It was really good." You whisper, lashes fluttering as your eyes fight to stay open. Steve's warm on a good day. He's hot as a furnace with all the blood that's pumping around still. Perfect for snuggling up with.

"Yeah?" He sounds delightfully pleased, but not the smug kind. He sounds happy that you enjoyed it.

Then he whispers, "Told you it wasn't you."

His big palm sweeps up your back soothingly.

He's right. You've never been so glad to be on the receiving end of an I told you so before. Not that Steve would say that (at least, not right now).

Cuddling in closer, you wriggle one hand out from beneath the covers, not bothering to pull back or open your eyes when you murmur, "Just had sex high-five?"

You can feel Steve's laugh as it rumbles through his throat. It's an inside joke now, it seems.

"Hell yeah." He wiggles one hand free and slaps it against yours, probably a little harder than necessary. You laugh too, the sound a mixture of joy and sleep.

And yeah, okay, you might get it now. The whole big fuss around sex that everyone seems to make—but maybe you don't entirely agree with them.

There was something more in the... trust. In knowing that Steve wouldn't have cared which way it happened, as long as you were both enjoying it. In the intimacy shared, even before you had ever slept together. In the waiting. In the wanting—for both yourself and for Steve.

There's some grandeur discovery you've uncovered, you're sure of it, about the mystery and craze around sex. You just keep losing the string of thoughts to your slumber which drifts ever closer.

Oh well. You can always put it all together in the morning when you're not so tempted by sleep and bundled up in the arms of a boy who you love. For now, you drift off, fulfilled and content.

tags below! (seven months later...)

@roanniom @madaboutjoe @huang-the-geek @pootcullen @superskittles

@hales-who-loves-to-reid @spear-bearing-bi-witch @daisiesandinvasives @season4steve @thelauraborealis

@mmmunson @everythinghasafacee @katethetank @sorry--for-the-mess @matterdontminduntildone

@blowing-mikey @astoryreader @mulletmcghee @sugarcoatedstarkey @pullhisteeth

(these are just the ppl in the tags that mentioned wanting to be tagged! if i know u follow me and are a regular, i didn't bother tagging u cos i know you'll see it hehehe <3)

[orphiclovers]

I too would read a 3000 chapter novel about this guy going through the horrors

[osamucide]

Babe, imagine Dazai, but like tied up with a collar and all, vibrator stuffed into him while he's whimpering and rubbing himself against you like the shameless slut he is

–🫧

he’s such a pathetic whore.

you can’t even cuddle innocently on the couch after work without him trying to jump you. it was a long day and you’re exhausted—you told him this, but he’s relentless. please, just let me fuck your thighs! please, just let me grind on your ass! he wants you that bad? fine, he can have you, but you’re going to use the last remaining bit of energy you have to lead him to bed by the neck of his shirt and sit him down before you slide the box out from beneath the mattress.

“quit squirming,” you tell him as you snap the collar around his throat—he doesn’t quit squirming, it only spurs him on—and move to bind his wrists behind him with the pretty black length of rope. you slip the remaining length through the d-ring at the back of his neck, bowing his back in a subtle arch before ordering him onto his knees with his face in the pillows.

it’s cute to watch him struggle, fall face-first a little bit as he positions himself where you want him—you’re coating your fingers with lube as his back falls into a more severe arch, his pretty ass wiggling in the air. he lets out a shameless, full-bodied moan when you yank his boxers down and circle the rim of his hole; another when you start to work him open on one finger, then two; he’s trying desperately to fuck back against you by the time you’re slipping the vibrating plug into him, whining about how he needs it, this is torture, it would’ve been easier if you would’ve just let him fuck you.

you tsk at him as you nestle the plug in his ass down to the base and fish the little remote out of the box.

“lay down,” you coo as you snap the waistband of his boxers back in place and slide the box back under the bed; again, it’s cute to watch him struggle. but he ends up on his stomach, elbows bent to accommodate the rope connected to his collar, and you get up to flick the light off before snuggling into bed next to him, satisfied with your work.

“baby,” he whines.

you shush him, nuzzling against him, wedging your thigh between his—god, he’s hard—and, with the remote in hand, slinging your arm across his waist. he scrambles against you, desperate for friction in the crook of your hip; with your other arm curled beneath his head, you settle in, sigh, and press a soft kiss to his trembling lips before closing your eyes and clicking the vibrator on to the lowest setting.

“ah!” he gasps, his pelvis hitching against yours.

“go ahead,” you mumble to him. “get yourself off. told you ‘m tired.”

so he ruts against you steadily as you drift off to sleep, sobbing quietly in a way that fades into white noise for you. you’re pretty sure he calls you cruel a couple times before you totally lose consciousness, but you just smile a little through your barely-awake state, not even gracing him with your usual praises of good boy, Osamu, doing so good for me. maybe you are cruel.

you’re totally asleep by the time he cums, whining and making a sticky mess against you in his boxers—as he twitches against the aftershocks of his climax he wonders if you’ll leave him like this all night, vibrator in his ass, arms bound behind him; how the hell is he supposed to sleep now? you are cruel.

he wakes up from an uncomfortable sleep in the early hours of the morning to you undoing his restraints, working the plug out of him—and he’s unbearably hard again.

“morning, good boy,” you whisper. “still wanna fuck me?”

you better believe he stretches his sore arms out, cracks his neck and rolls on top of you with fervor—whether or not you’ll regret what you did to him a mere few hours ago will be up to you. ⊹

[puckinghischier]

i come to you with a blurb thats been in my head because i desperately need it rn 😭

like,,, idk if its been said before BUT imagine nico helping you study!! youre taking your master's or maybe you're finishing up a long degree! regardless, he's ready to help you with your flashcards and notes and books and he gives you a lil smooch and a chocolate when you get one right! but he's very serious about it being just one kiss!! you have to study after all!! but.....maybeeee....sometimes...he'll add in another and another and another just because you look so cute when youre focused <3 and when he feels you getting tired or burnt out after it all, he obviously gives the best cuddles!

“baby, just one more question, and then you get 10 minutes of couch cuddles until we start the next unit,” nico would encourage you, knowing how frustrated and tired you’re becoming.

“nico i don’t want to do anymore tonight, we’ve been at it for three hours already. can’t we just called it quits after this last question?” you’d whine, ready to just drop out altogether, tired of spending every free moment you have doing homework.

he knows he shouldn’t have caved earlier, letting himself get too carried away when he decided to give you three kisses instead of one when you managed to get ten questions right in a row. the result was a thirty minute make out session that neither of you wanted to cut short, but he fought tooth and nail to get you back on track.

he mulls the thought over, knowing you’re getting antsy and ready to pack everything up for the night, but also knowing how much you’ve been stressing over this test and wanting to help you go into it as confident as you can.

“give me five more questions and we’ll call it a night, deal?” he tries to compromise with you, knowing you’ll complain all day tomorrow if you quit right now.

you roll your eyes and groan at him, throwing a silent fit with the look on your face.

“okay, five more questions then we put everything away and i’ll lay with you on the couch and rub your back while we watch dancing with the stars reruns,” he offers, using your current fixation show against you.

you perk up at the offer, always having to beg and plead for him to even watch one episode with you because ‘why would i want to watch a bunch of washed up celebrities do ballroom dances poorly?’

“deal,” you decide to agree to his terms, readying yourself for a night of cuddles and ripped men with no shirts on.

chuckling, nico picks your flash cards back up and goes through the next five questions with you, smiling proudly when you get all five right.

“eeek! okay, now hurry up and help me clean the couch off, we have a rumba to watch!!” you’d cheer, excited to finally relax with your study buddy.

once the materials are all out of sight and you’re pressed against nico on the couch, you find yourself drifting off to sleep sooner than you wanted, your brain tired after all of thinking you made it do.

“what if i wake up tomorrow and forget everything we just went over,” you mumble into nico’s chest, feeling the rumbles of laughter that erupt at your question.

“baby, i don’t think you’re gonna forget everything. you’ll remember why bruno only gave derek and his partner an 8 instead of a 10,” he jokes, upset that he’s actually managed to get partially invested in this show.

“maybe if they converted the material into judges speeches delivered by bruno tonioli, then i wouldn’t even have to study. the initial delivery would be enough to stick in my brain for forever,” you groggily replied, nuzzling your head further into nico’s chest.

he shook his head and rolled his eyes at you, even though you couldn’t see him because yours were already closed. he knows you’re the smartest person he’s ever met, and you’ll do fine on this test and all of the future ones you have to take.

but he won’t ever let you forget that he helped, claiming he should get his own form of rewards for doing half of the work with you.

[littleplantfreak]

Run my hands through - Umemiya Hajime

Made a post about how much i loved Ume with his hair down yesterday and ended up writing something entirely self indulgent //gestures at this official art too

-SFW (but almost wasn't I almost got super carried away but deleted it cause I leave smut to the professionals) so uhhh marking/hickeys, hair pulling, makin' out with Umemiya and slightly possessive behavior on readers part but in a silly way if that makes sense just in case anyone has problems with that stuff.

You're looking at him more than usual. Umemiya can feel your eyes boring into the back of his head while he's re-potting plants on the roof. He asked you about it before but all you do is hum and say you think you're staring a normal amount. Of course he doesn't mind, but it feels like he's under a microscope. When he asked Kotoha if she knew why you were acting weird, she shrugged and said you'd were looking at some old pictures at the children's home so maybe you'd just been noting how different he looked in his childhood pictures. She ended it with a look and tone that conveyed you'd already asked her to keep something secret.

-----

It's his hair again. The hair that's always gelled back in a slight wave keeping it out of his face completely. It's not hard to break it free from the glassy prison he molds it into though. There have been plenty of times strands fell forward from sweating, working or fighting, but you've never seen it fully down in person. That's why, when you saw a semi-recent picture of him with his siblings, long hair falling in his face, trimmed neatly with ends blunt, you started to feel a certain way about it. You innocently asked Kotoha if she had any more pictures of Ume like that.

"Like what?"

"Like with his hair down."

"Oho you have a thing for his hair now?" She teases and although you know she won't tell him if you ask her not to, you're still embarrassed at being found out so easily.

"He's my boyfriend! I have a thing for nearly everything about him."

"But anyone can tell you're kinda obsessed with it with how much you fix and touch it throughout the day. Just ask him to wear it down for you."

It's not that you hadn't thought about it, but the more you thought, the more you started getting frustrated. Why didn't he wear it down more often? It seems like he did in old pictures. If he hated it now you didn't wanna force him to change it

Your self control was pretty good, but once you'd started really looking it was impossible to stop. His most recent fight with Shishitoren had haphazard strands in his face dislodged by sweat and aggressive movement. Of course you were concerned with the wounds spanning across his face and body, but another part of you wanted to eat him alive with how good he looked. You're not quite sure you'd be able to stop yourself from jumping him if you saw him with his hair fully down. Sitting in a chair on the roof, you watch him and think about the feeling of running your fingers through his white locks unhindered by that damn tough gel he puts in.

"Pumpkin can you hand me the small pruning sheers to your left?" he calls over without looking over at you.

"Mhmmm," you barely reply still stuck in a daze.

Pruning sheers...

Right!

You snap out of the daydreams that'd been haunting you to stand and grab them. Just as you're about to hand them over, Umemiya grasps the wrist with the sheers and pulls gently but firmly to drag you down on the ground with him. He sets the sheers down before taking both your hands in his.

"Something on my face? You've been starin' an awful lot."

"Ahh dirt, if I had to guess," a halfhearted excuse while your brain continued to process things slower than usual.

"Sweetheart baby love of mine," he is all dramatics now stringing pet names together in a silly amalgamation. Once he starts making direct eye contact it's hard to look anywhere else, "you have got to tell me whats going on in that beautiful head of yours. I love the attention but if something's bothering you-"

"It's your hair!" You spit out in a panic, drawing your hands away to cover your face in embarrassment. You can tell he's a little worried and it makes you feel even worse for making a big deal about it.

"My hair bothers you?" He's confused. Of course he is. It isn't something you've brought up in the past after all. He thought you liked his hair since you were always fixing it for him and you do. Your voice is muffled by your hands but he can still understand to a point.

"It looks great and I love it, but I reaaallly wanna see it down," you can hear yourself whining the words instead of saying them normally. "You always have it up when you're at school," taking a deep breath as your hands come off your face to speak more clearly. "I was looking at pictures with Kotoha and they're pretty much all of you with your hair down." Taking a second you twirl one of his loose strands around your finger in lieu of staring again, sincerely embarrassed you let it get to you this bad. He finally puts the pieces together from his conversation with Kotoha earlier.

"Our date night's tomorrow right? I'll wear it down then," he says, letting you mess with his hair. He can see a jolt go through you at his words and you lock eyes with him immediately.

"Really? Really really?" You're just about vibrating in place, grabbing his face with both hands and squishing his cheeks.

"Rweawy rweawy rweawy!" His breath is coming out of his nose in amused puffs due to the quick shift in enthusiasm and your hold on his face.

"I'VE GOTTA GO PICK MY OUTFIT OUT OH MY GOD ILOVEYOUBYE!" A small peck on the nose and you're gone like the wind throwing open the door and running past Sugishita who was on his way up the stairs. The long haired boy looks back at Umemiya with wide, questioning eyes before letting the moment pass, his head dips in the usual greeting before he walks over to do the daily gardening tasks.

_____

“I changed my mind we can’t go out tonight.”

“Babe you’re all dressed up and you were so excited to check out that new restaurant near the park,” Hajime sighs exasperated. You’re in the foyer of his home, hands on both sides of the door frame blocking his escape.

“Not looking like that you aren’t! Do you want every girl in a 20 mile radius to fall for you? The men too? I’ll have to fight every single one of them and of course I’d win but imagine the casualties! The collateral damage!” you cry hanging your head in fake hysterics. Both Kotoha and their other siblings have been watching this two-part comedy special for about 10 minutes now, two minutes of which you just STARED at him. Then you began circling like a hawk looking at him from any and all angles as if to commit it to memory. Then you started laying on the compliments and pick up lines but he could tell you meant every one of them. “Who is this absolute knock out in front of me? Is my boyfriend a model now? Did it hurt when you fell because I’m staring at an angel.”

Which brought you both to the current scene and while you were (for the most part) joking, you also…weren’t. You could and probably are just extremely biased but GOD you think no one could pull off that hair quite so well. Usually it takes a lot to make Umemiya blush, but his face is currently stained red by how brazen you are at the moment. He’s smiling and trying to take it in stride but even Kotoha can tell he’s affected by your display and she's relishing it.

“No more arguing,” he picks you up by the waist and hoists you to him in a hug that leaves your face in his chest and feet off the floor. “We’re heading out now.” He sends a farewell back to your amused audience and the kids yell back a cacophony of teases and calls for their onee-san and onii-san to come back soon. You start muffling unrecognizable words into his shirt before he puts you down as he gets further down the street.

“It would’ve been one of the best ways to die if i’d stayed there a little longer,” you breathe and stumble back a bit.

“You are shameless today,” he laughs and goes to hold your hand. Anyone watching you both can tell you're grossly in love by the dreamy look on your face as you watch him while you walk down the street. You realize now that this is the first time in about two weeks you have him to yourself, which may be why you've been clingier than normal. Every time either of you tried to schedule date night with the other, someone or something came up and made you push date night back.

Going two weeks without any prolonged physical contact (save for hello and goodbye hugs or kisses) with your boyfriend has made you starved for him in every way your brain can fathom, which is why it isn't surprising that you end up dragging him through the park to an alcove you know isn't traveled to often. It also isn't surprising when you sit him down on the bench bracing a knee next to him, and pinning him loosely in place. He doesn't say a word, but tilts his head up slightly angled in favor of you closing the distance, daring you with those stormy grey eyes.

Your hands find their way easily to the soft ivory of his hair, delving deeper to twist and pull him in. Caught between a sigh and a moan, Umemiya Hajime is melting into you, lines blurring and nerves on fire. His hands fumble to grab the thigh closest to him as he moves you to straddle him. You haven't let up on your assault on his senses, fingers loosening their hold to rub small circles into his scalp.

Is this how you feel when he goes all out after stress starts to take it's toll on him? Now that he thinks about it he's always been the one to initiate this kind of thing, but god he would've asked you to take the lead sooner if he knew it felt this good. Heartbeat thrumming through his hands, he runs them in a soothing pattern from the top of your hip to you knee giving your legs the occasional extra squeeze.

A wave of calm shifts the clouds filling your head out as you have an idea. Parting from him briefly you start kissing and mouthing your way down to the collar of his shirt. He squeezes your thighs harder as your breath ghosts his neck and you give it a few experimental nips before cooling the spot with your tongue. He's trying to stifle a high pitched noise in the back his throat but once you hear it you latch on biting and sucking a single bright red mark. A soft breath over your work before you sit back to admire it. The mark peeks out just enough for you to see it right now but low enough that when he's wearing his furin jacket, he'll be able to hide it.

"That was-," you start, still breathless.

"Wow," he voice cracks at the same time. His eyes are a little wild but his hair is even wilder, sticking up in some directions and falling flat in others. Giving a small tap on his arm he releases the deathgrip he had on you before his eyes stick right to where he had been holding. Blue bruises are scattered over both legs where his fingers were, but they're just barely hidden once you fix your dress.

"Guess we're uh...even?" you're suddenly bashful at what was probably the same type of stare you've been giving him for a week straight now. Umemiya runs his own hands through his hair trying to catch his breath and make himself a little more presentable too.

"No way are we close to being even you little monster. After dinner I'm getting you back," and you can tell he's not bluffing.

"I'm shaking in my shoes Haji," you shot back feeling a bit more like yourself as you go to grab his hand. He moves towards you but you end up spun around and he picks you up for the second time that night, this time settled on carrying you bridal style.

"Put me down," you squeak in warning, the skirt of your dress no longer hiding the fresh bruises.

"This is part of your punishment sweetheart. Also, no one's coming after me if I carry you around like a princess right?" It was hard to argue with that logic and to be fair, despite your earlier boldness your legs ended up weak. He had probably seen the shaky steps you took towards him a second ago.

Both of you got to the restaurant in time despite the detour and the next day you were sporting a hoodie to hide the payback you took happily after.

[kaedeharakaori]

𝑹𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 || 𝘍. 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴

On the first day of October, 1984, forty-three women around the world simultaneously gave birth. Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and playboy adventurer, made it his personal mission to find and adopt as many of these children as possible.

He got eight of them, and one of them was a siren.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

UPDATED EVERY TUESDAY, THURSDAY, and SATURDAY.

Additional announcements will be posted on @kaedeharakaori to avoid spamming.

CROSS-POSTED ON WATTPAD

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟﾟ ⋆

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Note: Click the chapter titles to access.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝐒𝐈𝐗

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

[auuwmk]

"Kdj is so cool and awesome and smart!!!!" HAH! That's what he wants you to think. This was probably the intended effect he was going for as someone who is SO obsessed with the way he's perceived.

He wants to be perceived as someone who's tough and shouldn't be messed with. He definitely doesn't want people to know about his ugly flaws.

Surprise, surprise! The guy with the emotional intelligence of a cookie hates emotional vulnerability cuz that will reveal his more 'less likeable' and his embarrassing and childish side!

I bet 2 cents that if you ask him anything related to his personal goals or feelings, he will either give a really vague and selective answer or just outright dismiss it

[sadienita]

SKZ Reaction - When you’re not very cuddly or touchy

Chan

Okay he, like, kinda likes it. We already know he loves the members that run from his affection. How many times have we seen him capture Minho or Seungmin with the biggest grin on his face the whole time? If you don't mind a hug from time to time he’ll honestly have a lot of fun. He kinda loves that you don’t want his cuddles every second of the day but it will lead to him sneaking up on you for a surprise hug and kiss or else chasing you down the hall, giggling the whole way until he tackles you onto the bed. He will let you go quickly each time though, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. And he’ll always assess your mood before playing around too, if he sees you’re having a rough day he’ll ask how he can make it better, only ever touching you if you request physical comfort. He is a little sad that you aren’t up for bedtime cuddles most nights but more than once you’ve rolled over in your sleep and somehow ended up in his arms and it always melts his heart when it happens. Some part of you will always seek out some form of comfort from him no matter the situation.

Minho

He’s very okay with this. He doesn’t like being touchy all the time and honestly prefers small touches here and there to constantly being in contact. He will be a little sad if you don’t want to sit on his lap often, that’s maybe the one thing he would like but he respects your boundaries and he wouldn’t be happy knowing you were uncomfortable on his lap anyway. He loves the interactions you do have. He loves staring at you and giving you a soft smile and a slow blink when you catch him, a silent way to say “I love you.” He loves the light way you touch his arm to get his attention, like a feather. He likes the way you’ll absentmindedly link your pinkie with his if you’re both quietly taking in a beautiful view. He loves the gentle, soft way you touch his face to move his hair or remove the eyelash that’s fallen on his cheek. He likes your small, quiet way of loving each other.

Changbin

He doesn’t mind it too much. He likes a more casual touch with you so at first it’s not an issue but over time he has to find where the line is. He likes having an arm around you but knows you get uncomfortable if he does it for too long. It ends up getting reserved for when you’re out at a party together, a quiet reassurance that he’s right beside you. He does like holding your hand but he won’t initiate if it isn’t your thing. He will, however, giggle like a lovesick fool if you lace your fingers with his no matter the situation. He really adores it and cherishes those moments. He can be playful with it too. When he can tell you’re in a good mood he’ll suddenly try to scoop you up or if you’re very unlucky, he’ll run at you and grab you so he can use the momentum to spin you around; he is not always careful of your surroundings. He thinks it's fun to catch you off guard and make you squeal or yell, chuckling to himself every time.

Hyunjin

He’s honestly somewhat similar. He doesn’t need to be in contact with you 24/7 and he likes that you feel the same way. It takes so much pressure off that you don’t constantly expect hand-holding or cuddling. In fact, his favourite thing is being alone together with you. When you get to the point of comfortable silence he’ll start inviting you to come sit with him while he paints, or to come and hang out in the dance studio while he practices. Your presence makes him feel so calm and happy and he knows if he wants your attention it’ll be easy to get. When he’s painting he likes to reach over and touch you from time to time, just to remind you he’s right there. He’ll show you what he’s working on from time to time. He loves when you bring something to work on yourself and share your own progress with him. The fact that you value his opinion makes him feel so incredibly special. When he’s dancing he can be a bit silly, a grin drawing over his face before he flops his sweaty body on top of you simply to annoy. He does delight in that. When he does touch you it’s always so gentle, adjusting your clothes, fixing your hair or head covering, pressing a very soft kiss to your nose, forehead, or knuckles. He loves treating you with the utmost gentleness.

Jisung

It’s all fine at first. He’s nervous when you first get together, not wanting to screw it all up. And knowing that you’re not that into skinship means he can just avoid it. But as time goes on he wants to. He wants to hold your hand and hug you and kiss you and cuddle with you. For a long time he’ll just try to swallow those needs down, as if they aren’t filling him to the brim. But eventually, during a particularly hard week, he’s desperate to ask you for comfort. He still doesn’t call you over but when he misses plans with you you show up at his place and take no time at all to cradle him, wrapping him in your arms and slowly calming him down. He finally admits after that that he wants some contact sometimes. It takes negotiations and trial and error to find where the most comfortable boundaries are. He likes sitting next to you during movies, feeling your leg pressed against his, and he likes when you fall asleep on his shoulder. He likes when you doodle along his skin sometimes, absentmindedly. He likes when you play with his hair, it always makes him feel so cozy and sleepy. And he loves that when he’s struggling that he doesn’t even need to ask, you’re quick to wrap him in a warm hug and give him the comfort he craves, holding him together whenever he’s close to falling apart.

Felix

He has by far the most trouble with it. He wants contact with you all the time. He wants to put his arms around you. He wants to cuddle you. He wants to feel close to you. He does his best to respect your boundaries because the last thing he wants is for you to be uncomfortable with him. He stops himself every time he goes to touch you absentmindedly, bringing his hands back to himself. But he doesn’t consider his own desires much and over time it puts a strain on your relationship. He gets very needy for verbal affirmations of your love and constantly tries to do everything for you to prove that he cares. It’s when you get annoyed with how overbearing he can be about it and ask him to stop that he breaks down crying, admitting that he doesn’t know how to love you the right way. It devolves into both of you crying and sitting with each other, holding his hands the whole time. It takes more tears before he admits that he doesn’t feel loved, that he needs some form of contact and it makes you realize that he’s been so wrapped up in your needs and you’ve neglected his. From that point on you try to find where your comfort lies and what feels okay. You find that a quick hug and soft kiss feels alright. You find that holding hands for a little while feels alright. You find that small things like feeding each other food and letting him do small tasks for you makes him so happy. And you find that in cold weather, a little bit of cuddling for a short while is nice. You both pay attention both to your own levels of comfort and the other’s feelings much more.

Seungmin

He thought he would be fine with it but he realizes he touches you absentmindedly a lot more than he thought he would. A gentle hand on your back to let you know he’s passing behind you in the kitchen, reaching out to cup your cheek and run his thumb over it, grabbing your hand in crowded place, a back hug when he wakes up to find that despite you sleeping over, you’ve gone wandering off somewhere else in the apartment and he comes to find you. It definitely causes tension, feeling and seeing the way you tense up when his fingertips find your skin. It reminds him quickly but he seems to have a hard time not initiating in the first place. It takes you getting frustrated with him before you two agree to sit down and talk through where the boundaries actually are. In time he realizes that you certainly don’t like surprise touches and you realize that he feels a little unloved if you never touch him at all. You adopt little touches, petting or playing with his hair, pressing stray kisses to him as you pass, pulling his hand into your lap and gently playing with it while you watch dramas. He grows to tell you when he’s going to touch you, giving you a verbal indication that he’s nearby first and keeping his touches more brief when he does give them to you.

Jeongin

He ends up pretty comfortable with this. He likes to hug you or to hold your hand from time to time but it makes him shy to do it too much. And he doesn’t like doing it in public or around other people, feeling a bit embarrassed every time it happens. Instead, he loves other ways to show you he cares. He loves dressing you up. He will beg you to let him pick your outfits and gets so excited when you say yes. He’ll leave gentle touches on you when he helps you with any jewelry he’s picked out. He ends up touching you the most while posing for pics, both of you invested in getting a good picture. He does like to play with your rings if you’re wearing any but he lets you give him your hand before he does so. He also loves when you fix his outfit or hair; reaching out to straighten or adjust something. He’ll keep hugs brief and likes just to be near you more than anything. You bring him a sense of comfort whether touching him or not and relishes that.

[muffinlance]

I really do love your writing and Salvage gets me through when I am sad or depressed. However, I was wondering, how do you cope when someone who wrote a review didn’t like your writing? If you’ve had this before… I had one today and I am dejected. I’m working through my perfectionism and I keep telling myself, “my writing isn’t for everyone and it’s okay.” Any advice?

If it was unsolicited, especially on a fanfic? Delete it, block the person if you feel like, then go do your rage activity of choice before forgetting about it forever. That person is rude and doesn't deserve your time anymore than someone bumping into you on the street.

I've also found it useful to actively think of my fanfic as writing practice, and not even my brain expects perfection from writing practice. It also frees you do Try Cool Things.

Now take this digital blanket and cup of hot chocolate and go reread your nice comments.

[the-axe-and-flail]

Hashira- What they kiss like pt 1

Gyomei Himejima

(WARNING- NSFW topics, MDNI/18+ only)

Surely I'm not the only person who's spent far too much time thinking what it's like kissing every single Hashira, right? (minus Mui, he gets forehead kisses bc baby) Well then, let's go on an adventure, shall we?

Shinobu•Sanemi•Obanai•Tengen•Kyojuro•Giyuu•Mitsuri

Gyomei kisses you like you are the most delicate bone China he's ever held. He is reverent, worshiping at your lips as his fingers trace the sides of your face, your body humming with hymns he'd never dreamed of hearing. There is a deep and adoring connection when your lips meet, his busy hands begging to find rest as they intertwine into your hair. It almost hurts; the tug your heart gives when he lets a soft groan reverberate through your entire being as you pull away for air. His kisses are not greedy, nor are they lazy, but rather, they are admiring and awed. His lips quiver with emotion as they linger against yours, tarrying as if the answers to nirvana lay within them. He takes his time memorizing every curve of your lips, the touch of your tongue, and each and every gasp and sigh you give as he explores you. You are his most precious, his most important, and he makes sure you can feel that in the very depths of your heart each time he holds your face and leans in.

Gyomei's hands never leave you while you kiss, needing as many points of contact with you as he can get, but rest assured they are not idol. He loves to pull your entire body into him while he kisses you. Every inch of you touching him, as he is wrapped around you like a protective shield from all the terrible things in this world. His lips would part from yours only to find purchase on your neck, your collar bone, your jaw, but it would only last a moment before he longed to taste you again and find his way back to your kiss swollen lips.

Gyomei especially loves kissing you during sex. He craves to be as close to you, as unified with you as possible. If souls were not meant to touch, then why does his long for yours so fervently? Were he a seeing man, he'd relish in the love and desire he would read on your face while he was buried deep inside your welcomimg walls, but the connection of your lips make up for it 10 fold. He speaks words of exaltation against your jaw; his own sounds of pleasure signal the benediction to your lovemaking. At his climax, his hands so tenderly cup your face, a soft prayer, a declaration of love on the tip of his tongue as his mouth finds yours once again. This kiss is more needy, more passionate, filled with the longing to tell your spirit how profoundly he treasures you. He hopes with all his might that you understand a fraction of the depths of his love for you.

Gyomei kisses you only in private. He's not one for that kind of PDA, especially not something so wholly personal. A slayer has so few things that are truly private, he'd want to keep that part of your relationship just for you two. If you tease him a bit, letting your fingers linger on his forearms or circle his own fingertips, you can feel the shiver travel down his spine as he whispers about how very terrible you are to tempt him like that in public (not that he's serious mind you, but the ache in him doesn't stop until he can finally get you alone). He isn't the type to punish you for stirring him in inappropriate places, but the moment he gets you alone he will ask to feel you against him again.

[afurtivecake]

My hot take on AFTG? At first glance, the original series appears to be amateurishly written, but actually it's like that because it's in an autistic POV.

Ok look, anyone who has read AFTG will notice the language is fairly simple, the vocabulary not particularly varied, the phrasing is repetitive, there's a lot of detail about small, seemingly pointless actions, a ton of exposition and hardly any detail on many of the characters or their emotional states. I'm not denying that. I'm saying it's intentional because all of that is how Neil thinks.

Firstly, Neil isn't particularly well-educated. The longest he's stayed in one place is that one year in Millport. I don't know what kind of an education he's gotten on the road, but it surely could not have been consistent. He also doesn't have Andrew's memory so he's not going to be spouting big words and fanciful adjectives where simpler ones will suffice. (Also, Andrew is an intellectual and considers himself as such, which is why he talks the way he does, but that's a whole other tangent) It would be a wildly different character or a different style of POV altogether if it was written in a more literary style.

As for why it feels specifically autistic, it's hard to explain because for me, it's very intuitive and largely based on personal experience and exposure. But I can say that the books read like what some of my autistic friends (and I) have going through their heads. It's the methodical thought processes, the meticulous observation, the internal exposition, the logical reasoning that gets applied to every small thing, the conscious decisions that go into every action. It's also how there's an absence of descriptions of people and their personalities and how sometimes it seems like it suddenly shifts to a complete non sequitur. It reads like we're inside Neil's head and the inside of Neil's head feels really familiar.

Now, I'm not sure how much of it is the author herself and how much of it is just Neil, or if it's a case of Neil being exactly the sort of character Nora Sakavic's natural writing style (at the time) just happened to fit precisely. But my point is that having the kind of flaws English teachers would wag their fingers at doesn't make it a less effective piece of writing. Not all characters and not all humans are going to tell their stories in a way that sounds like what we think of as 'literature' but that doesn't make their story less meaningful or significant or less well told.

EDIT: I should say, there are literary authors who also have a very sparse, simple style, who nonetheless, manage to convey so much sentiment and emotion in simple, short sentences. AFTG has, by no means, the simplest or sparsest writing I've seen. You don't need complex words or sentences to tell a good story effectively!

[noirleo]

leo has spent his entire life curating an image for himself. the Leader with the plan, who always knows the right thing to do, who always has the exact words his brothers need to hear at just the right time. a firm hand to guide, an ear to listen, a voice to inspire hope.

even when he stumbles, it’s controlled. quiet in such a way that not even his brothers, who share a roof and food and clothes and blood, realize it. leo doesn’t fall apart, he can’t, because the foundation that crumbles brings down the entire house.

maybe it’s your outsider perspective that gives you insight. you see it in the way he doesn’t bother to wrap his still-bleeding knuckles after hours in the dojo, silently sliding over the last slice of pizza to his orange-clad baby brother, forgoing fun nighttime outings in exchange for more training, suddenly excusing himself from conversations of harrowing night patrols so that no one can see the hiccup in his breathing growing and growing until the memories threatens to engulf him.

the way he rejects himself over and over is so familiar, a mirror reflection that moves in time with your own movements, and oh, it hurts to see it. but you do it anyway because you have never met someone more worth looking at than him.

maybe he sees it in you too—or maybe he just needs something, someone, to notice him, even if he would rather die than admit it. but eventually, he allows you to silently bandage his bleeding knuckles and kiss the spaces between his fingers until their trembling ceases and the shudder of his breathing quiets. when you find him pacing at night, restlessly walking between his brothers bedrooms, he stops resisting you as you gently pull him back to bed and drown out his racing thoughts with the sound of your own rhythmic heartbeat.

you don’t fix him, you wouldn’t dream of it because you love him and loving isn’t the same as fixing—but you kiss his scars with as much tenderness as his lips, and something in him heals each time.

he confesses to you one sleepless night under a hazy new york sky that he doesn’t know the difference between being loved and being used.

i don’t either, you admit. but i would like to learn.

[markantonys]

reddit:

literally every other WOT viewer in the world:

[cursedvibes]

Okay, so if you're acknowledging that nothing is pointing towards Sukuna being able to read Yuuji's mind and hear everything he does, then why did you make such a big deal about keeping Yuuji away from all plans, Todo and what not.