pinkretty

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 (?) 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒  ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 & 𝑫𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒔: 𝑨𝒘𝒌𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑴𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑫𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒆𝒙

──  mdni sexual content. inclusive of: vaginal sex, slight pet name usage, shower sex, getting caught, sex as a stress reliever. but overall this is a lot of fun LMAO

the truth, is that caleb would always be willing to experiment.

he's had so much pent up for you, that you'll frequently find he has something in new in mind to try out with you—or, in short, he liked to find new ways to have his way with you. so it wouldn't surprise you that eventually, you'd have your hands pressed against the glass, your head tilting back to meet his kisses. of course, it would feel good, like it always did. his cock would fill you so well, and taking it from behind made you feel everything so much more deeply. it would be oh so asy for both of you to get lost in the pleasure, droplets from the shower, running down your back, the rush of water doing nothing to drown out your moans.

... but shower sex is never just rainbows and butterflies, and sometimes, being fucked silly allows all sense of rationality to go down the drain.

it's quick, when it happens—caleb accidentally knocks down the bar of soap, and the already-running water makes things progressively worse. you gasp, wide-eyed, as you slip, and caleb seems just as surprised as you. perhaps, his reflexes did him no favors in the moment, as his attempts to catch you only have him slipping on the very same trail of soap you'd also slipped on.

the both of you remain on the shower floor with agonizing pain, and perhaps you look more like a drenched, unsatisfied cat than anything else.

"shit—fuck—m'sorry, pipsqueak..."

"...we should just stick to the bedroom next time."

sex with rafayel is always so intoxicating.

he'd have himself buried inside of you in a way that just feels so right, so perfect, that you would always find yourself lost in the moment. whether he goes slow, or fast, or even if he lets you take charge, the result is the same—you could only ever focus on him, him, him. perhaps, it was intentional on his part, but you liked it that way. he made you feel good.

except sometimes, rafayel was too much of an airhead that your distraction wouldn't always end well... such as one particular morning, where he had you pressed against his couch, fucking you as well as he always did, and the sound of footsteps barely registered in either of your ears.

"rafayel, why aren't you answering my calls? i told you, this is an important deal, and—holy fucking shit! are you insane?!!"

rafayel never quite bothered to lock the door, and though you knew this and tried often to get him to do it, there were still times that he would... forget.

such as right then.

in that moment, you would yelp, hitting at his chest, barely having the strength to push him off of you as he hastily throws a nearby blanket over the two of you instead.

and thomas would storm away, eyes shut tightly.

"god! lock the door, rafayel, seriously! just—just finish whatever you're doing and call me back!"

"yeah, yeah. bye, now!"

"...rafa?! never let that happen again!"

in the years you've spent together, you had come to the conclusion that xavier liked to relieve his tension in very specific ways.

you didn't mind it, of course; in fact, you enjoyed it. it's become an established part of your week, him pressing you against the door in as soon as you get home from a particularly tiring mission, soft kisses gradually turning more heated and passionate as he leads you into the bedroom. these moments were some of the only times he'd allow himself to be more selfish with his desires for you, and with no surprise, you'd find yourself looking forward to it—expecting it.

but on one particular night, you find him to be less... dominant, than he usually would be with you in these moments, almost passive. but his hands still roam your body, brushing against all the sensitive spots he's memorized like the back of his hand, still kissing you in a way that would make you melt—so you don't question it immediately. perhaps, you think, he wanted you to take the lead this time.

except, you reach down, and he's...

...not hard at all.

even as you rub against him, as his lips place soft kisses on your neck—

there's no reaction.

he looks up feebly and then you find the telltale traces of exhaustion on his face, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. his eyes are nearly drooping closed.

"sorry, angel, i'm too.... i think... i think i just really want to sleep right now, after all..."

"...oh..."

over the course of the past couple of weeks, you'd found that zayne's adorable affection for cats had gotten the better of him.

the calico cat you'd often see roaming his street would now prance happily around his house, feeling almost more at home than zayne himself—surely, at least, that it was certainly home more often than him. you found it adorable, and sweet, and you loved it, you really did!

but...

your more passionate nights with zayne would be rare enough as it is considering his busy schedule, and it was unfortunate that you now hard a rather... entitled audience.

he would by thrusting into you so nicely, so deeply, your legs hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. often, your eyes would be closed as you took in every bit of pleasure he would give to you, fully focused on the feeling of his cock stretching your walls the way you so desperately needed.

...only now, when you open your eyes, you find that a certain ball of fluff had casually walked over to lay on zayne's back.

your eyes lock, and it's almost as if the moment is completely lost.

zayne would stop thrusting, noticing your change in mood, and then he'd recognize the weight on his back.

"...sorry, sweetheart... should i—"

"....it's staring."

"..."

"zayne, maybe... we should do this at my place next time..."

⁺₊ / an: light moments to start the day!!! 💖 it was super hard to choose what exactly to write because there's a lot of awkwardness that goes into sex, but i hope this was a fun little read~

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[handful0fteeth]

i was made for lovin' you, baby

chapter 2 of my Funny How Love Is series. read chapter 1 here summary: following the success of your first date, you and Steve catch a movie together. or, at least, that's the plan - before Steve discovers you've shown up to the date with no panties.

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, minors DNI, (light) exhibitionism, dirty talk (a lot of it), steve harrington has a big ole monsterc*ck, tooth rotting fluff, multiple orgasms

words: 16.3k

Miraculously, you survive.

Not without a thorough verbal lashing, but that was to be expected. The moment you walk through your front door, you’re bombarded with questions, and your outfit is fussed with – you don’t think you’ve ever experienced more blind panic in your life than when you have to snatch your skirt out of your mother’s prying hands before you accidentally flash her. 

She yells. A lot. You endure it only because the fearful tremor of her voice makes your stomach churn with guilt. You're silent when she demands to know what was so goddamned important you couldn’t bother to pick up a phone to call home, because you can’t very well tell her the actual reason, that you were pretty preoccupied with your longtime crush sucking your soul out of your pussy and so time just sort of…slipped away.

After forty-five minutes, your mother finally quiets and slumps into her recliner, exhausted. You are sent upstairs with a, “If you ever scare me like that again, I will chain you to the foundation of this house. Do you understand me?” You promise you’ll never be out this late without a courtesy call back home explaining your absence, and she waves you away, satisfied for the moment. 

You jump in the shower, not because you’re eager to wash Steve’s lingering scent off your skin, but because you’re uncomfortably sticky from the slick smeared between your thighs and the sweat cooling beneath your clothes. Your body is pleasantly warm, even without the water cascading over it, and remnants of that dreamlike serenity you experienced while straddling Steve’s lap swirls around your brain like mist. It enables your thoughts to wander as you scrub shampoo into your scalp.

You imagine Steve in here with you, hair slicked out of his face and soap lingering on his skin, bending down to kiss you while his hands roam the expanse of your body. You didn’t see him naked tonight, but God, you want to. It’s so easy to picture droplets of water clinging to the thatch of dark hair between his hips, and easier still to envision yourself following the thin trail above it with your tongue as you sink to your knees. 

 After a while, you aren’t even focused on getting clean anymore. You’re just tilted against the slippery tile wall, hands dancing idly over your wet skin as you lose yourself in your fantasies. You forget the amount of attention your pussy’s been shown tonight until you absently reach down to massage your clit, and the ache that bounces up into your stomach makes you hiss through your clenched teeth. Okay, you think, twisting the faucet off and peeling back the shower curtain. Definitely no more of that tonight.

Exhaustion hits the moment you cross the threshold into your bedroom. You toss your towel over the back of a chair and dive beneath your covers, resolving to call Kelsey in the morning and rub in her face just how proficient Steve Harrington is at eating pussy. 

It seems like you’ve just shut your eyes when your mother’s voice rouses you from slumber. You can barely make out the vague syllables of your name as you pry one open and holler back, “Yeah?”

“You have a phone call!”

“Tell Kelsey I’ll be there in a second!” You sit up slowly, scrubbing your eyes and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. There’s no helping the low groan that slips past your lips as you stand. You’re sore – your thighs burn with every step you take to grab a robe off the back of your door, and your jaw clicks as you loose a yawn.

“It’s not Kelsey!” Mom shouts. “It’s that Harrington boy you went out with last night!”

That was fast. Delicious memories from the night before flood your brain, and your cheeks burn as you knot the belt on your robe and burst into the hallway. You descend the steps two at a time, and in your haste, you nearly tackle your mother as you rip the phone from her.

“Ow, Jesus! Bent my goddamn fingers back, Y/N!” she snaps, shaking out her hand and retreating to the living room with a sour look on her face.

You mouth a silent apology at her back before inhaling deeply through your nose and rolling your shoulders. There isn’t time to practice your best “nonchalant” voice, so you hope for the best as you bring the phone’s receiver to your lips.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks. Of course it does. 

Steve doesn’t seem to notice, thank God. “Good morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?” 

You tangle your fingers within the curls of the phone cord and lean against the wall, butterflies fluttering their wings against the inside of your ribcage. That smooth, carefree confidence drips from his voice like honey, and you can’t even see him, but you know he’s smiling, so the corners of your mouth twitch upward in return.

“Wonderfully. You?”

“Like a baby. I was just about to head off to work, but I wanted to call to check in about last night, make sure you were…yanno, still okay with everything.”

“I’m still very, very okay, Steve,” you promise. You scan the kitchen and poke your head around the wall to peer into the living room, ensuring your mother isn’t secretly eavesdropping. She’s taking sips of coffee between glances at her magazine and the morning news, but you still lower your voice and turn your face tighter toward the phone when you respond.

“I think the evidence of how okay I am is staining your backseat.”

Steve chuckles, and you bite your bottom lip as your face flushes. 

“Good point,” he says. “I also was wondering if, maybe, possibly…you were free again tonight?”

You’re sure you'd spit your heart onto the floor if it bounced harder into your throat. Is he asking you out again? Two days in a row? You knot the phone cord so tightly around your fist that the flesh starts to go white.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely, I’m free,” you say, forcing yourself to sound normal and not like an overexcited middle schooler. “Did you, uh, have something in mind?”

“Well, I get off work early tonight, so if you’re interested…I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. You catch your mother giving you an odd look over the lip of her mug before you turn your back to her. “Y-Yeah, absolutely, I’d love to catch a movie.”

“Sweet. I’ll be done at five. I can pick you up after?”

“I’ll just meet you,” you counter, “Family Video’s not that far from my house.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

It’s not that you don’t want Steve to pick you up – it’s moreso that you know your mother will want to talk to him, and you aren’t ready to subject him to her well-intentioned interrogations just yet, not when she’s likely still a little hot about your late arrival last night. 

“Alright, you’ll meet me at five, then,” Steve concedes.

“Sounds like a plan. Mind telling me what we’re seeing?”

“Back to the Future.”

You furrow your brow a bit. You thought everyone in Hawkins had seen that movie by now since it came out three months ago, and had assumed it’d already trickled out of the theaters in favor of being burned onto DVDs.

“I didn’t peg you as a sci-fi nerd,” you admonish playfully, and Steve huffs in amusement.

“I tried to watch it when it first came out but, uh…well, I had stuff going on that night, and then Starcourt burnt down….” He trails off, but you nod and suck your teeth in acknowledgment. 

You remember the news about the mall burning down the morning after it happened – the police surmised a couple of dumb kids snuck into the building after it had closed and decided it would be a good idea to set off fireworks on the Fourth. Your mother shook her head at the newspaper that day, steaming mug abandoned on the table in front of her and hand pressed mournfully to her mouth. You’d snuck a peek over her shoulder, and Detective Jim Hopper had stared reproachfully back at you, beneath a headline announcing his untimely demise as a hero. His and Heather Holloway’s names were the only ones you’d really recognized in the expansive list of casualties, and you weren’t even close to Heather. You’d had one meaningless conversation with her during one of her shifts at the pool because Kelsey mentioned a band she was traveling to see, and Heather overheard and announced her plans to go to that very same concert – one in Indianapolis, in August. Needless to say, Kelsey was the only one who made that trip.

The second-only movie theater in Hawkins burned with Starcourt, and now all that’s left is The Hawk downtown, in all its crumbling, dusty glory.

“Yeah, I guess scooping ice cream waits for no man, huh?” you ask slyly. You’d never gone to Scoops Ahoy when it existed, mainly because you didn’t trust yourself to not sound like a stuttering idiot if you tried to order from Steve, but you’d never deny yourself the indulgent glances you’d steal from across the food court at him. He was the only man you’d ever seen make sailor shorts and a dixie-cup hat look sexy.

“Hey, I was doin’ much more than scooping ice cream.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Just, yanno…helping some friends with some…stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff.”

You snort.

“Important stuff,” he adds, and you nod.

“Is there any other kind?”

“None that I know of. See you in a few hours?”

“Definitely,” you say.

“Awesome. I gotta go, I have to pick up my friend so we can carpool. I’ll see you later, baby.”

The line clicks dead, and you’re left standing against the wall, wrapped up in the phone cord and blushing bright scarlet as the dial tone groans at you. 

Baby. 

If Steve never uses your real name again and exclusively calls you “baby” forever, you’ll die a happy woman. You spin around to disentangle yourself and slam the receiver back down on the hook, clasping the front of your robe shut as you hurry back up the stairs.

“I’m going out again tonight!” you call over your shoulder. “With Steve!”

“And what will happen if you’re out past curfew again without calling home?” your mother yells back. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, chain me to the foundation, I heard you!”

“Just checking! Oh, and Y/N?”

You pause in your bedroom doorway, robe already halfway shucked off. “Yes?”

“When do I get to meet this Harrington boy?”

“Oh, uh, you know…!” You shut your door quickly.

~~~

You have too many clothes.

You come to this conclusion as you’re standing naked in front of your closet, half of its contents belched out into a pile on the floor, hair and makeup already over an hour old. You’ve never thought so hard about what to put on your body in your entire life. The cold air dribbling through your cracked window suggests that you wear pants. But you hate all the clean options in your drawers, so maybe a skirt with some leggings? But then what do you wear on top – something dressy, casual, or a little bit of both? 

You blow out a harsh puff of air and flop unceremoniously to the floor, landing on your ass with a thud. Maybe you’ll just go naked. That’ll go off without a hitch, right?

Ultimately, you build your outfit around a plaid skirt you haven’t worn since the previous year's winter. It’s snug on your hips, almost too snug, and as you bend to slip some plain white Keds on, you feel the waistline dig into the soft skin of your belly. The feeling isn’t unbearable, and the skirt makes your ass look stellar, so you decide it’ll be worth the discomfort and the slight waddle you must walk with. Only after you’ve shrugged a denim jacket over a well-loved Heart t-shirt and have your hand on the doorknob to leave do you consider something: your panties.

They’re cute and simple, and you’re sure Steve would praise your choice of undergarment even if they were beige granny panties, but…wouldn’t he be far more surprised if he hiked your skirt up and found no panties at all? You bite your lip.

Well…if last night is anything to go by, he’d just steal these panties, too, right? And then you’d be down two pairs, and you aren’t made of money. You can’t just replace the pairs he tucks away as memorabilia continuously, can you? It’s a smarter, more fiscally responsible decision to go commando, you reason.

Stomach flipping and cheeks burning red hot, you shimmy your underwear down your legs and kick them toward the hamper in the corner of the room. 

~~~

You can’t pry your thoughts away from the breeze tickling between your thighs the entire walk to Family Video. 

You’d intended to drive the family car here, but your mother was already clutching the keys and shrugging her jacket on as you plodded down the stairs, citing that she’d had plans to meet some girlfriends for a drink, so you’d have to figure out different transportation. You were only sort of pouty about it, but mostly very brave – if you consider loudly complaining at your mother’s back that she must hate you and want you to get kidnapped as she scurried out the front door as “brave,” that is. Luckily, Family Video is a relatively brief walk if you navigate the forest behind your neighborhood as opposed to trying to follow the main road through town.

Before last night, you had never even considered going anywhere without panties – it seemed like a thing women only did in pornos. But now, here you are, out and about in the middle of the woods, pussy completely exposed beneath a skirt that’s barely long enough to cover the swell of your ass. It’s…oddly invigorating. And far more arousing than you would’ve imagined. 

The autumnal chill of October seeps through your jacket, sending chills up and down your bare legs, and you wrap the sides tighter around your waist to preserve what little warmth you still have. A few older couples, folks out for an evening walk, you gather, eye you up and down in confusion – or pity – as you shiver past them, and you can’t help but be a little envious of their thick woolen coats and long knitted pants. But the thought of Steve realizing you’ve shown up for your date without panties, and his eyes darkening with arousal as he hitches your legs up to your chest, hot breath ghosting over your exposed flesh as he gazes at you in the way that makes you feel like the single most desirable thing on the planet…

It’s more than worth being a little chilly.

The dark green exterior of the Family Video is almost entirely blocked by a swarm of patrons when you reach the parking lot. You should’ve expected this, seeing as the weekend has just begun, but the sight makes you swallow hard and self-consciously smooth a hand over the front of your skirt. A majority of the clientele for the evening seems to be rowdy teenage boys who raucously mill about the parking lot, some smoking cigarettes, others performing tricks on their skateboards. Shit.

You take a deep, steadying breath and lift your chin as you cut through the drifting crowds filtering in and out of the store. You tuck your hands behind your back as you walk, trying to appear casual as you slide them down over your butt and pin the fabric of your skirt in place. A giggling teenage girl blows a pink bubble with her gum as she holds the door open for you, and you flash her a thankful smile. 

The air in the store is warm and a little stuffy, the smell of dust, candy, and stale popcorn hanging like fog between the doorway and the checkout counter. People amble around, most chattering with friends as they bemusedly pick up DVDs and scan the front and back covers for something that piques their interest. An unsupervised little girl shrieks as she darts past you, clenching The Care Bears Movie against her chest as she begs her mom to buy it. 

A lithe, busy-looking girl paces behind the counter, wearing a green vest with Family Video emblazoned in bright orange lettering on the lapel. Her hair is a dirty, warm blonde and curls softly just beneath her chin, and her angular features are pinched together in apparent dismay as she worries a chipped blue thumbnail between her teeth. You progress toward her slowly, tapping on the counter’s surface to gain her attention. Despite what you thought was a markedly careful and delicate approach, the girl almost flings herself over the counter’s edge, gasping and exclaiming in surprise.

“Sorry! Sorry, um, hi, I’m Y/N, I’m supposed to be meeting Steve here?” you say hurriedly, and the girl blinks her round blue eyes at you. Silence falls gracelessly between the two of you, and you’re sure it only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity lapses in the seconds the girl’s unblinking gaze is fixed on your face. 

It’s…a little unnerving, you’ll admit. 

She squints, like she’s trying to glean more information from the nervous smile you’ve pasted on your lips, then snaps her fingers and points in your direction as a sudden realization dawns on her.

“I sat on your underwear!” she announces, loud enough for a father and young child to turn their heads and stare at you both in confusion. If you weren’t trying to conceal your ass from what feels like the entirety of Hawkins right now, you’d bury your face in your hands. The girl, to her credit, instantly realizes her mistake (and her volume) and claps a hand over her mouth.

“I am so sorry,” she says, voice muffled from behind her multi-ringed fingers. “That was…I meant…”

She sticks a hand out before her, offering you an apologetic smile along with the handshake. “I’m Robin. Steve’s told me a lot about you.”

Ohhhh. Robin. She was a key character in many of the stories Steve told you last night, and from the way he described her, her frenetic energy suddenly makes a lot more sense. You return her smile and shake her hand, but Robin doesn’t let go immediately. Instead, she grips you tight while waving your interlocked arms up and down repeatedly as she talks, almost like she’s unaware she’s doing it.

“I wasn’t, like, seeking out your underwear or anything, by the way. I just, like – well, Steve and I drove to work together this morning, and when I sat down, I felt something weird bunched up under me, and I was like, ‘Huh, wonder what that is,’ so I pulled it out and lo and behold,” she mouths the word “panties” silently, laughing a bit awkwardly around it, “and I was like ‘Woah! What the hell!’ and then Steve told me to put them down, and I was like, ‘Whose are these?’ and then he told me about your date and….” She trails off and lets go of your hand once she recognizes she’s been flapping it for about thirty seconds. 

“Sorry. I…talk a lot,” she says sheepishly, but you just laugh and shake your head. 

“It’s alright. It’s nice to meet you, too, by the way.”

She grins so wide you worry it’ll split her slim face right down the middle. “So, Steve told me you guys have a second date tonight?” she asks.

You nod. “Yep! We’re gonna go see Back to the Future.”

“Ohh, I remember that movie! Michael J. Fox wants to, like, bang his mom, right?”

You giggle and shrug. “Something like that, yeah. Do you know where Steve is, by the way?”

Robin nods and slides out from behind the counter. “Yep, I’ll go grab him. Be right back!”

She flits off, disappearing behind rows of DVDs and throngs of idle customers. You turn, keeping your back pointed at the counter for safety, and lean against it. Oddly, you feel compelled to greet people when they walk in since you’re standing right at the front; you get a few curious looks thrown your way as you wave and welcome people inside the store, clearly not in uniform and rather done up for a supposed Family Video employee.

A minute passes, and while you don’t see Steve emerge with Robin, you certainly hear him.

A display of chocolate bars flies off the counter behind you, clattering to the floor with a loud, metallic clang that makes everyone stop what they’re doing and look. Candy spills across the floor, and Steve stoops to the ground to collect the fallen sweets and discarded metal rack, mumbling apologies at startled customers all the while. He cradles the chocolate in his arms and lets the rack dangle off one crooked finger as he straightens and smiles at you.

“Smooth move, dingus,” Robin teases, patting Steve’s shoulder and resuming her post behind the counter. He shoots her a look and swings the display rack back on the counter. He sloppily dumps the bars next to it before wiping his palms on his jeans and stepping closer to you. 

He’s sporting the same Family Video vest as Robin, a slightly baggy yellow sweatshirt, and blue jeans. The yellow makes the greenish flecks in his eyes pop, and the moles along his cheeks stand out even brighter. Once again, Steve Harrington is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, and he doesn’t even have to try.

“You look gorgeous,” he murmurs. A hand slides around your waist and rests on the small of your back, pressing you close enough that he can stamp a chaste kiss on your cheek. His lips are warm against your chilled skin, and after a moment, he pulls back with a concerned look.

“Jesus, you’re freezing. Did you walk here?”

“Oh, yeah, uh. Mom had to take the car to a thing, so….” You shrug, trying to appear apathetic, but a shiver slithers up your spine as the front door swings open and a gust of frigid air nips at your heels. Steve hugs you closer, fingers squeezing and sliding up your hip and waist to warm you up.

“Next time, just call me. I’ll gladly pick you up so you don’t have to freeze your cute little ass off,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear. Before you can reply – not that you had anything remotely intelligent to say anyway – he turns both of your bodies so they’re angled at Robin.

“You two have been introduced, right?”

“Yep. I told her all of your embarrassing secrets before I went and got you,” Robin says flatly, shuffling candy bars in her hands like playing cards and slotting them into their original spaces on the display.

“Awesome, that means I’ll have plenty of time to tell her all of yours in the car,” Steve retorts. Robin rolls her eyes and holds a chocolate bar above her head threateningly.

“I am not afraid to use this.”

“You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

Steve yanks you to the right as the bar soars past your head, pinwheeling onto the floor and almost knocking against the ankles of two teenage girls by the front door. They both look up sourly, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, and Robin squeaks out an apology before they strut away.

“Good one,” Steve taunts, slipping his work vest off and dropping it on the counter behind him in a heap. Robin swipes it away with narrowed eyes, chastising Steve about not being his mother as she folds the fabric into a neat, green square. He slings an arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you out of the store, calling out to Robin over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget to lock the front door when you leave!”

“One time, Steve. It was one time!”

~~~

The drive to the theater is a pleasant blur of conversation. 

The smell of Steve’s cologne envelops you the second the passenger-side door shuts, woody and sweet and perfectly him. As you toss your purse into the backseat, you find yourself staring intently at the upholstery. It doesn’t appear that your previous escapades have actually maimed the leather.

At one point, as Steve talks about a particularly belligerent customer he had to deal with earlier in the day, he reaches over and rests his hand on your thigh. It’s not an insinuation or expectation – he hardly even applies pressure, just idly rubs his pinky back and forth over your skin while he continues his story. His ministrations do slightly disturb the hem of your skirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

You entertain the idea of just guiding his fingers between your legs, allowing him to feel you entirely, letting him play with your cunt while he drives, but just as you’ve built up the necessary courage, the car is pulling into the parking lot behind The Hawk. 

He squeezes your leg before hopping out of the car, and you’ve barely gathered your purse strings in your fist before he swings your door open for you and extends a hand down to help you out.

“Madame,” he says, bowing his head slightly. You giggle and take his hand.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, and as you step onto the cracked asphalt below, Steve shuts the door and crowds you up against the side of his car. 

His lips are instantly on yours, warm, soft, and hungry, and you can’t help but sigh against his mouth. You didn’t know how addictive kissing Steve Harrington would be until you went without it; now that you’re here, you’re tempted to forego the movie entirely so you don’t have to stop making out with him. He nudges his knee between your legs, and you tense up involuntarily, inhaling sharply through your nose. You feel him start to pull away, having noticed your apparent hesitance, but you remedy that quickly by bringing a hand up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck and locking your right ankle around his calf. You lick at his lips, and he parts them readily, excitedly. He tastes minty, something you weren’t expecting but aren’t displeased with.

“You smell good,” Steve mumbles, kissing a trail down your neck and tugging the collar of your shirt to one side so he can better access the skin beneath. He hums approvingly before latching onto a pre-existing hickey, suckling and nipping at his handiwork. 

“If you do that, they’re never gonna go away,” you breathe. He chuckles.

“Good. They look so pretty on you.” His hands glide down your waist and settle on your hips, kneading circles into your flesh and pulling you flush against his body. You notice how comfortably you fit together, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place for the first time. When he straightens, you find yourself tilting your head to meet his eyes.

“You have the softest mouth,” he says quietly, raising his hand and ghosting it along your jaw. His curled pointer finger settles beneath your chin, and his thumb presses into the center of your lower lip. “I could kiss you all day.”

“We’d miss the movie,” you warn, words slurred slightly by the presence of his thumb. You have to admit, though, that spending an entire day holed up with Steve, doing nothing but making out and allowing his hands to roam wherever they pleased on your body sounds like heaven on earth. He smiles at you, that perfect crooked smile, and gives you one last peck on the lips before stepping back.

“Better get a move on, then,” he says, sweeping his arm out and moving to the side. Cold air rushes to fill the space his body occupied a moment ago, and you shiver. You smooth the front of your skirt with one hand and slot the other inside his, keeping in step as you both navigate the alleyway next to the theater.

Empty cardboard boxes loom above your head, stacked haphazardly and tilted into the walkway. Puddles of opaque liquid splash beneath your shoes as you walk through them. A rumor Kelsey whispered to you ages ago floats to the forefront of your mind.

“Hey…didn’t Jonathan Byers kick your ass back here a few years ago?” you ask. The corner of Steve’s mouth twitches. Then, he smacks his lips and walks ahead, tugging on your arm and dragging you through the alley.

“So, what size popcorn did you want? I was thinking we’d get a large to share!”

~~~

Your sneakers stick noisily to the floor as you and Steve slither through the narrow rows of the mostly empty theater. You’re clutching the large Coke you’re going to share and the box of Sour Patch Kids Steve insisted upon while he’s balancing the unnecessarily massive bucket of popcorn on the tips of his fingers. You eye it cautiously, ready to leap to catch it if it pitches forward.

The seats you’ve picked in the top middle row, away from what little crowd is scattered about the theater, creak as you sit down, and the decrepit padding sags under your weight. You’ve missed the previews but are just in time to watch Marty McFly hitching a ride on the back of a truck to get to school. You pass Steve his candy and take a sip of your drink as he settles in and sticks the popcorn bucket between his knees.

“So, what’s happening?” Steve whispers, leaning down to your ear.

“Hardly anything yet. He’s on his way to school from Doc Brown’s house.”

“He who? And who’s Doc Brown?”

“He is Michael J. Fox,” you murmur, pointing at Marty as Principal Strickland berates him. “Doc Brown is Christopher Lloyd, the crazy scientist.”

“Ohh. Wait, isn’t he the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest guy?”

You lean back in your seat enough to give Steve an incredulous look.

“You’ve seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?”

He shrugs, ripping the cardboard lip of the Sour Patch box open and spilling a few multi-colored gummies into his palm. “Robin and I have movie nights every Sunday. She chooses artsy shit on her turns. My last pick was Gremlins. You should come this weekend, but I can’t promise she’ll give up her turn for you. She’s suuuuper anal about that stuff.”

You smile and relax into his side. “As long as she’s cool with me bringing hot chips, she can pick whatever she wants.” This date isn’t over yet, and he’s already talking about seeing you again. If it weren’t the least cool thing you could do right now, you’d squeal over it.

Steve silently holds a blue Sour Patch beneath your nose as an offer, pinched between thumb and forefinger. You take it, gently pulling with your front teeth, and before he can retract his hand, you surge forward. Your tongue laps at the sticky sugar left over on the pads of his fingers, and in the flickering light of the film, you catch Steve staring at you, surprised. 

He bites the inside of his cheek when you draw his thumb inside your mouth and give a tentative suck. His gaze darkens as you blink up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence. As you start to pull away, he presses a finger beneath your chin and hooks his thumb downward against the backs of your bottom teeth, locking you in place. He leans toward you, mouth so close to your cheek that you feel the rumble of his voice across your heating skin.

“Do you really think it’s smart to tease me like that in public, baby?”

It is by the grace of God you don’t moan in the middle of the theater. 

You shift in your seat, trying to discreetly cross one leg over the other to squeeze your thighs together. His tone, the unrelenting grip on your jaw, and the change in his body language make you want to challenge him. You want to nod in agreement, to meet his gaze defiantly, do something that’ll make his eyes flash. But someone a few rows down from you loudly clears their throat, and Steve’s eyes dart toward the noise. 

You bite back the disappointed whine that builds in your throat as Steve slowly pulls his thumb from your mouth, eyeing the thin string of glittering saliva that keeps it briefly connected to your bottom lip before snapping. A beat passes where you both stare at each other, your lips barely parted, ready to welcome anything Steve deigns to slide past them again, but he rests that hand in his lap instead. 

“Watch the movie,” he murmurs, smirking at your open-mouthed and dazed expression.

Yeah, like that’s possible.

You swallow hard, uncrossing your legs and squirming. He hasn’t even done anything, not really, but your pussy is throbbing right now, and you’re genuinely concerned you’re going to start leaking all over the cushion below your ass. The potential embarrassment of standing up and discovering the shiny wet spot, a definitive indication of your arousal, thrills as much as it fills you with dread.

Steve seems to get absorbed into the movie rather quickly, mindlessly alternating between popping gummies and kernels of popcorn in his mouth, but your brain is buzzing, making it impossible to focus. When Steve places the popcorn bucket in the empty seat next to him, you can’t help yourself ��� you glance down at his empty lap, staring at his dick through his jeans like a fucking pervert. You gnaw the edges of your fingers, which doesn’t come close to sating the desire to have anything of Steve’s back inside your mouth..

The 1950s version of Marty’s father has just knocked Biff Tannen unconscious when Steve leans over the armrest between you again, and his voice is light with amusement when he asks, “What’s got you squirming so much?”

You breathe out sharply through your nose.

“I thought you wanted us to watch the movie,” you snark. Steve’s smile widens.

“I told you to watch the movie,” he corrects. His elbow nudges into your side slightly as he bends toward you. “But it seems like you’re havin’ a hard time with that. I’m just curious as to why.”

“You know why.”

“Mmm, no, I don’t.” Smug motherfucker.

Your hands rest on your thighs, clenching and unclenching as you contemplate your next move. He watches you intently, eyes roaming from your undoubtedly flushed face to where your hands are fidgeting in your lap. 

You won’t tell him why you can’t sit still – you’ll show him.

Wordlessly, you slide your fingers down the sleeve of his sweatshirt until you’re grasping his hand and guiding it toward your skirt. His fingers are cold as they brush against the soft, warm flesh of your inner thighs, and you grin as a gasp flutters past his lips.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pulls his hand back, and before you can whine at the loss, he adjusts himself in his seat so he’s angled toward you and reaches between your legs with his other hand, the one that offers better leverage. You duck your face into the crook of his neck as his two fingers slide up the length of your slit, collecting the slick that’s puddled near your hole and smearing it up your lips. You can’t part your legs any further, or you’ll rip your skirt right up the seam, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You whimper softly as Steve crowds you up against the back of your seat. 

“I can’t believe you went out with no panties on,” he breathes raggedly. That same fervent, desperate arousal he displayed last night while nose-deep in your pussy bleeds into his voice, making it husky as it washes over your ear, and you shiver. 

Steve dips the tips of his fingers inside you, a groan stifled against the back of his teeth, and you suck in a breath. Is he really going to finger you here, in the theater? You’re not exactly sure what you were expecting, but knowing that anyone could turn around and see you both right now makes you simultaneously nervous and stupidly horny.

“God, you’re already so wet,” Steve rasps, fingers nudging deeper inside of you. “Have you been thinking about this the whole movie? Teasing me ‘til I played with your pussy?”

“M-Maybe,” you whimper. “I didn’t…have a concrete plan…oh, fuck–”

Steve claps his free hand over your mouth before you can loose the moan bubbling up your throat, snickering as his two fingers slide inside you. They curl as he drags them almost entirely out of your hole, leaving only the tips inside before slowly stuffing you full again. He keeps this devastatingly slow pace, fucking his fingers in so deep you ache, only to leave you mostly empty, again and again. You pant and whine against his palm, hips bucking off the seat to try and make him go faster, God, you need him to fuck you properly, but he won’t be swayed.

“You should see yourself right now,” he says against your ear. His fingers still inside you, the tips rubbing against your g-spot so that despite the people around you, you’re confident you’ll scream in frustration if he doesn’t start fucking you the way you want, the way you need. “Your cunt is drooling all over the seat, baby.”

He removes his hand from between your thighs, smirking at how you fuss and strain in an attempt to coax him back inside you. He frees your mouth, but only briefly, as his slick-soaked digits push past your lips the second you open them to protest. They don’t stop, either, sliding across your tongue and toward the back of your throat. He presses down, nearly activating your gag reflex. 

Steve watches hungrily as you hollow your cheeks and suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue over and between them to clean what remains of your slick off. The subtle way he shifts his weight catches your attention, and your gaze drifts down to his lap again.

He’s hard, you can tell, even with the inconsistent light the movie affords you. 

Embarrassingly, your mouth floods with saliva at the thought of kneeling on the sticky theater floor and swallowing Steve Harrington’s cock while the people around you innocently watch Back to the Future.

“Please,” you mewl once Steve pulls his fingers from your mouth. He hums inquisitively, tracing your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

You straighten and push yourself into Steve’s space, crushing your mouths together as you reach into his lap and stroke the bulge in his jeans. A shudder ripples through his body as your fingers squeeze and rub insistently, and it only spurs you on. You deftly unhook the button on his pants and drag the zipper down as Steve explores your mouth with his tongue, hands curling around your jaw and holding you in place.

“You gonna stroke my cock in front of all these people, baby?” Steve chides playfully, nipping your bottom lip. 

“If you’ll let me.” 

He seems a bit taken aback by your answer, enough to where his mouth hovers above yours, and his dark eyes blink open. Steve examines your face, almost as if he’s trying to discern if you’re serious or just so mind-bogglingly horny that you’ll agree to anything.

You sink your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and grasp his cock, too eager to let the cogs finish turning in his head. His flesh is burning hot to the touch, and as you swipe your thumb over the swollen, thick head, you smear a pearl of precum down his shaft. 

The sound he makes once he captures your lips in a kiss again is sinful.

If it weren’t for the armrest, you’re sure he’d be pulling you into his lap right about now. Steve’s breath comes in shallow bursts as you stroke him, slow and deliberate, mimicking the pace at which he fingered you. He reaches for you, wrenching your shirt from where it’s tucked into your skirt and sliding a hand up your stomach. When he cups that hand around your breast, you gasp, and he swallows the sound greedily before pushing your bra down and out of the way.

Two things happen just as Steve brings his other hand down between your legs again: lightning crashes into the clocktower on the screen, and someone unleashes a sustained, phlegmy round of coughing. 

Steve jerks back from you, panting, pink high on his cheeks and his hair dangling in his face. He looks around, tongue darting out to wet his red, swollen lips. After a moment, he laughs and leans back, closing a hand over the one you still have jammed down his pants.

“Why’d you stop?” you ask.

“'Cause if I don’t, I’m gonna fuck your brains out in front of all these people,” he admits, eyes shining mischievously. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you purr, squeezing the base of his cock. He twitches but gently wraps his fingers around your wrist, guiding it out of his underwear. 

“You say that until Chief Powell locks us both up for public indecency,” he laughs. “Do you wanna come back to my place, baby? It’s a lot more comfortable and…private.”

You start nodding before he’s even got the whole sentence out. He smiles, popping a quick kiss on the tip of your nose before reclining in his seat to tuck his dick away and do his pants back up. You have to do a bit of awkward twisting and shuffling to get your bra back into place without accidentally flashing the whole room, and Steve grabs your hand before carefully leading you down the steps and toward the theater door.

“So, uh, just in case I don’t get to see it ‘til it comes out on DVD,” he whispers over his shoulder, “how’s the movie end?”

“Uh, Marty hooks his mom and dad back up, and they all end up better off in the future. His dad’s some hotshot author and makes Biff chauffeur him everywhere.”

“Good for George!”

“Oh, and Doc lives.”

Steve stops cold, holding the door halfway open before turning to face you with a puzzled expression.

“Wait, what, how’d he-”

“Steve, do you wanna stand here talking about it, or do you wanna go have sex?” you ask, patting his chest and urging him out the door.

“Right, right, sorry, just – tell me later!”

~~~

Steve’s mouth finds yours the moment his front door shuts behind the both of you.

His hand slides behind your head, partially to tangle in your hair and keep you where he wants, but also so you don’t smack it against the wall as he pins you there. A few picture frames dotted along the entryway rattle from the force, and the sound stirs a thought.

“Wait, Steve, your parents…” Your protest is weak and breathless, swallowed by a gasp as Steve kisses a trail down your neck and laves his tongue over a healing hickey. 

“Not home,” he breathes.

“Are you sure?”

“They never are,” he murmurs into your skin. 

Paranoia still flickers dimly in the back of your mind, so you crack your eyes open to look around. The oak floors beneath you gleam as if freshly polished, and the cream walls you’re pressed against are stippled with a few small pieces of geometric art. There’s a side table just beyond Steve’s back, shiny and black and dimly illuminated by a single lamp, and while you don’t spot the glint of anyone’s keys on it right away, you still aren’t convinced that means no one’s home. Stairs are crushed against the furthest wall, thick ivory fabric carpeting each step, flowing upstairs into a rectangle of darkness on the top landing.

Steve sinks his teeth into the flesh above your pulse point, ripping your attention away from the decor. You moan louder than you intended and tip your head further to the side to give him better access.

“Such a little fuckin’ tease,” Steve growls against your throat. His fingers clench, tugging your hair by the root. The pain stings sweetly across your scalp, and you suck in a breath. “You have no fucking idea how much self-control it took to not bend you over in that theater, Y/N, Jesus Christ.”

You whimper, snaking your hands up under the back of his sweatshirt. He radiates heat, and the sensation of his smooth, unblemished skin beneath your fingers makes you want to scratch grooves into it. You won’t, not yet – you don’t have a read quite yet on how much pain Steve likes intermingled with his pleasure, if any. 

His free hand glides down your thigh before hitching itself behind your knee, and you gasp as Steve hikes your leg up and over his hip, leaving you suddenly exposed. Steve’s warm, solid body swiftly replaces the cool air that tickles between your thighs as he presses himself flush against you, his bulge straining against your bare pussy in a way that makes you shiver.

“God, I could fuck you right here,” he breathes, and you’re grateful for his iron grip because, without it, your buckling knees would’ve sent you straight to the floor. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, baby. Y’know how bad I wanted to drag you back inside my car last night? Keep you all to myself?”

“Fuck, Steve,” you whine, voice muffled against his soft, sweet-smelling hair. Arousal sinks itself between your hips like lead, hot and insistent, and you grind against Steve’s denim-clad cock desperately. You’ll let him fuck you anywhere he likes – against the wall, on the floor, bent over the railing of the stairs. A perverse thrill rushes through you at the thought, and you’re about to open your mouth to beg Steve for just that when he releases his grip on your hair and leg. 

By the time you realize what’s happening, Steve’s knees have already hit the dark blue rug below you, and his fingers are squeezing your skirt over your hips. He tilts your lower half away from the wall, toward his face, by grabbing a greedy handful of your ass and pulling; you stumble a little and have to tangle both hands in his hair to keep from falling over his shoulder. He peppers kisses along your inner thigh, turning his face into the soft, malleable flesh, and you see the flash of his teeth before you feel them, nipping the juncture where your pelvis and leg meet. 

“Let’s see if I still remember our lesson,” he murmurs, a sound that vibrates up into your core and shakes a moan from your lips. His voice, though faint between your legs, is dark and strained, as if he’s barely holding himself back from ravaging you right where you stand. You don’t know how to verbalize quite yet that you want, more than anything, for Steve to just fucking take you already. You worry the wicked thoughts swirling around in your head right now, tapping their claws against your skull and whispering encouragement to you, will freak him out if you dump all of them on him at once.

Steve’s tongue flattens against your cunt, and the noise he makes as he licks up to your clit makes you shudder. He crushes you closer to him, so close you can feel the tip of his nose bumping between your folds as he gets right to work eating your pussy with the fervor of a starving man. 

“Still so fucking wet,” he mumbles. He pulls away, just far enough to spread you open with two fingers, and teases the tips around the rim of your hole. You whimper, hips bucking involuntarily, your grip tightening in Steve’s hair to keep yourself steady. His dark eyes flicker to your face; his swollen pupils eclipse the color in his irises, leaving them almost black in the dim light of the entryway. 

“You want my fingers, baby?” he asks. You nod, breathless.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, what?” He traces around your twitching entrance, gaze unwaveringly intense. You swallow hard and swear you see the corner of his mouth tic amusedly when he catches how your throat bobs with the effort.

“Yes, please, Steve,” you offer, and he sucks his teeth in admonishment. 

“C’mon, pretty girl, I thought you learned how to beg for me properly last night,” he chastises, and your stomach flips. The high, squeaky sound that ekes out of your mouth is wholly unintentional, but how the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he’s talking like that, looking at you like that, touching you like that?

“P-Please, please, Steve, I need your fingers inside me, please,” you mewl, and Steve makes a satisfied noise low in his throat. He places an approving kiss right above your clit, and if the thought of falling directly on top of him wasn’t mortifying, you’re sure you’d collapse.

“Do you wanna take my cock tonight baby?” he asks. He pushes his two fingers inside you just as your mouth drops open to answer, and you suck in a breath sharply as they curl and brush over that spot inside you. 

“God, fuck, yes, I do, please. I want your cock,” you babble.

“Are you sure? You’re not too sore?” It’s a sincere question. Truthfully, you are still sore – not terribly, not the way you were in the shower last night, but the ache pulsing in your muscles as Steve slowly, so fucking slowly, draws his fingers in and out of your pussy, is inescapable. Admittedly, though, it doesn’t discourage your arousal even one bit – you want him to fuck you until you can’t walk, to have that dull pain twinge throughout your body for days as a reminder. 

And considering how big he is, you don’t think that’ll be hard to accomplish.

“No, I’m okay, not too sore,” you assure him. 

“Yeah? You’ll let me know if it hurts too much, won’t you, pretty girl?” 

You nod, breath hitching as the pads of his fingers rub gentle circles over your g-spot. “I can take it, Steve.”

He smiles, sweet and innocent, his sunshine yellow sweatshirt rumpled and perfect hair ruffled across his forehead. He kisses your thigh again and pulls his fingers almost all the way out.

“You’ll need to take more than two fingers if you wanna fit my cock inside you,” he says simply, and plunges three fingers inside you up to the knuckle while latching his mouth over your clit.

The only reason you don’t scream is because all the oxygen has been sucked from your lungs. 

Steve drives his fingers home again and again, spreading them apart inside you while his tongue swirls over your throbbing clit. Your fingers claw at the smooth wall behind you, desperate for anything that might aid you in remaining upright, and when you can’t find it and the tremoring in your thighs threatens to overtake you, you thrust your hands into Steve’s hair, pushing it away from his face. It gives you an unencumbered view of his dark, thick eyelashes fluttering over his cheekbones as he focuses on your slit and the faint flush hueing his tanned skin. 

When your head falls back against the wall, and you moan, high and desperate, you unthinkingly ball your hands into fists. The strands of Steve’s hair go taut in your grip, and just as you’re about to whisper an apology, he groans into you. 

“Harder,” he says, breathless, a gleaming string of saliva tenuously connecting his bottom lip to your cunt. 

“Wha…” You’re borderline delirious from pleasure, which makes forming an intelligible sentence very difficult. Sensing this, Steve lifts the hand not buried knuckles deep inside you and rests it over yours, squeezing gently.

“Pull harder, baby.” 

You swallow hard. His eyes are wide open now, staring directly at your face, bright and blazing. When you oblige him, clench your fingers and tug at the root of Steve’s hair with both hands, hard enough to make his head tip back, his lids flicker, and a smirk sprawls across his reddened lips. The gasp that passes through them clenches your stomach, and his approval inspires you to pull his head back further.

“Fuck,” he growls. 

“That feel nice?” you ask, and Steve nods as best he can. He looks fucking divine like this; slick lips parted to allow shallow breaths, gazing up at you like you’re the only person in the universe who matters. You wonder if he’ll ever let you take the reins, if he’d let you pluck him apart, piece by piece, just as he’s done to you, only to paste him back together at your leisure.

The thought makes you shiver, and you gush a bit around his fingers.

He’s broken free of your grasp just as quickly as he invited it, however, and when he dives back into your cunt, he’s abandoned all pretense. He laps at your clit with long, flat strokes of his tongue and purposefully thrusts his three fingers against your g-spot, curling them tight and pumping so fast you can see the veins twitching in his bicep. Your pussy makes wet, obscene sounds as he fucks into it, and the embarrassment that tinges the edge of your arousal at that fact brings you closer to orgasm than you were expecting.

“S-Steve, Steve, God, fuck, I’m gonna cum, please, I wanna cum,” you blurt out, and he hums affirmatively. Without warning, you feel the tip of his pinky finger nudging against your hole.

“Cum for me,” he says – rather, he demands it of you. “Cum on my fingers if you wanna earn my cock, baby.”

Earn it. That thought, and the sweet, burning stretch of his four fingers inside your spasming pussy send you tumbling over the edge. You scream so loud you worry any neighbor Steve has will think he’s trying to kill you. In all fairness, he may be – you cum so hard that once your scream fizzles out, it’s impossible to draw in an adequate breath, so you’re just left paralyzed, choking on your own tongue, trembling on Steve’s deft fingers and mouth.

He milks it for as long as he can, chuckling against your folds when you finally gather the wherewithal to whine and push weakly at his forehead after your pleasure ripens into pain. When he pulls his fingers out, all four shimmer with slick, and it takes you a beat to realize your thighs are warm and wet from your orgasm, all the way down to your knees. The small puddle of your own cum that’s collected between your shoes glistens mockingly up at you. 

“Okay…you have to at least let me clean that up,” you pant, jutting your chin toward your mess. Steve laughs and sucks a kiss into one of the few unblemished areas of your inner thigh you have left.

“It’ll dry, don’t worry about it. You can clean this for me, though.”

Steve reaches up and presses all four fingers into your mouth. You moan, a wholly compulsory sound, but obediently twirl your tongue over the digits, doing precisely as he asked and cleaning your cum from his skin. As you do, Steve murmurs praise into your flesh between featherlight kisses, trailing them across both thighs and either side of your hips as he raises himself higher on his knees. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, retrieving his fingers from your mouth. You’re about to thank him when he presses you flush against the wall again. You find yourself upside down before you can ask what he’s doing.

Steve has hoisted you up and over his shoulder, not unlike a literal sack of potatoes, and you’re now completely inverted, blood rushing to your head but enjoying an eyeful of Steve’s ass in his jeans. The fabric of your skirt is still bunched up around your hips, leaving your bare ass fully exposed, and you reflexively reach back to cover it as Steve darts up the staircase. Your body bounces on the rounded edge of his shoulder, which digs a bit unpleasantly into the soft pouch of your stomach, but you find yourself giggling uncontrollably all the same. His strength impresses and arouses you all over again.

“Sorry, baby, I just don’t fully trust you to walk all the way to my room on those shaky legs,” Steve says, mirth belying his apology. You’d like to argue, but he isn’t wrong. Even as they dangle uselessly across Steve’s torso, your thighs tremble. At this rate, you would’ve been lucky if they cooperated enough to let you crawl after Steve to his bedroom.

Although…

Before you can entertain that thought, you’re flying through the air. The springs of Steve’s bed shriek as you land atop it in a heap, making you wonder if they always squeak like that. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Steve says, arms crossed over his torso and hands gripping the hem of his sweatshirt. You look around – aside from a few crumpled pieces of paper on a desk and a moderate pile of rumpled clothes in one corner, the room is spotless. The walls and curtains are matching shades of plaid, and more oak furniture crowds the corners. You take a deep breath, expecting Steve’s cologne to waft sweetly up your nose, but instead, you inhale the scent of dust. There isn’t much here to denote that the room belongs to a college-aged man, let alone that he spends any meaningful amount of time in it. It looks more like a well-used guest room, aside from the forest green sleeve of Steve’s varsity jacket peeking out from the cracked closet door and a singular framed picture on his desk. The features of the two figures are bathed in shadow, but you can tell by the exaggerated swoop of hair on the taller one that it’s Steve with…someone.

It makes you sad, Steve’s room.

You sit on your knees and shuffle toward him as he peels off his shirt, laying your hands over his to stop him.

“Let me,” you whisper. 

He pauses, a sliver of smooth skin visible through the gap he’s made in his clothes, and you catch a glimpse of his happy trail just above his belt buckle. One hand drifts downward, and your fingers press tentatively into that thatch of hair. Steve’s stomach is a hard wall of muscle protected by soft flesh that pudges out around your fingertips slightly, and the way he tenses beneath your touch doesn’t escape your notice. His eyes glitter in the room's dim light, flickering over your face, searching. 

“Please?” you add, and he smiles.

He drops both arms to his sides, allowing you to slide your palms along his waist and lift the sweatshirt from his body. Dark, coarse hair swirls across his chest, dipping between his pectorals in a thin line before reappearing above the waistband of his jeans; beneath the sparse edges of his body hair, you’re able to pick out dozens of freckles and beauty marks dappled along the lean, tan expanse of his torso. The sleeves of his sweatshirt flip inside out and cling to his wrists as you tug the last of it off, and you both giggle when the neckline snags on the tip of his nose before snapping over his forehead. 

You sit back on your haunches, hands hovering above his body, unsure of where to settle first. He’s so fucking pretty, you want to touch everywhere at once, from the broad line of his shoulders to the divots along his pelvis.

You don’t have long to think about it. Steve slips both hands behind your knees and pulls; your back hits the bed in a squeal of springs and a whoosh of air, and as your thighs spread instinctively, the riiiiip of your skirt splitting clean up the seams catches his attention.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” Steve chuckles, pinching a jagged flap of fabric between his fingers. It’s unsalvageable, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You squeeze what remains of the waistband down your hips and drop the scraps off the edge of his bed, giggling.

“You’re gonna owe me a whole new wardrobe at this rate,” you say, and Steve presses an apologetic kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll get you the best a Family Video salary can buy,” he promises. Then, two fingers are buried inside of you to the knuckles, and any witty retort you had loaded up for him dissipates on the breath that hisses out through your teeth.

“Fucking – oh, my God,” you groan, stretching out the last word as Steve plunges his fingers in and out of your cunt. He tilts his hand slightly so that he’s brushing up against your g-spot every time, and you would be embarrassed about the pathetic little whimpers tumbling from your lips if you had the wherewithal for shame at this juncture. Your back arches, driving your head into the pillow, but Steve’s free hand tangles itself in your hair and forces you into a semi-sitting position.

“I want you to watch, baby,” he murmurs. “Watch how you take me.” 

“Please, Steve, more, please, I can take it,” you pant, eyelashes fluttering as you watch Steve’s glistening fingers vanish and reappear rhythmically. He laughs against the shell of your ear before kissing your temple.

“I know you can take more of my fingers, pretty girl. I watched you do that,” he coos, voice rife with singsongy condescension. “Unless that’s not what you mean.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you whine, and you don’t think you’ve ever sounded so petulant in your entire life. Steve’s fingers still, and he makes a quizzical Hm? sound high in his throat before deliberately dragging tight, fast circles around your g-spot. The veins in his forearm pulse and bulge with the effort, and he’s gone and sucked all the air out of your lungs, so you can’t even answer him when he says, “Then use your words and tell me what you need.”

For a few seconds, your brain goes blank. Pleasure thrums through every nerve in your body until your skin is prickling with heat, gooseflesh rising on your thighs despite the sweat beading at your hairline, and the realization that you’re already close again cracks through your skull like lightning. You grab Steve’s wrist, though you’re torn on if you want to push him away or pull him in deeper. It’s too much, it’s far too much and yet it’s not nearly enough at the same time because it’s not his cock, and you need his cock, so finally, you draw in a shallow breath, swallow what little saliva remains in your mouth, and you tell him.

“I need your cock, please, Steve. I need your fucking cock so badly, please just give it to me.”

“That’s my girl.”

Steve crawls between your legs, aptly slipping his belt out of his jeans and whipping it to the other end of the room. As he strips his pants off – you bite back a laugh, watching him struggle to rip his foot out of one of the legs – you sit forward slightly and peel off your Heart T-shirt. Fresh air cools your flushed skin while you reach behind yourself, awkwardly attempting to unclasp your bra and still look sexy, a feat you don’t think has ever been accomplished.

“I got it,” Steve says, and as he presses himself against you, head hanging over your shoulder and fingers adeptly unhooking the tiny metal hoops, something hot and hard rubs between your legs. You look down and realize he’s already stripped himself of his briefs, and once your bra falls away, discarded alongside your shirt, you see the flushed length of his cock bobbing slightly between his hips. 

Your mouth fills with saliva. It’s like you can still taste him, heady and salty and perfect, on the back of your tongue, and for a moment, you want to beg him to fill your throat over and over again. 

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Steve murmurs, lips trailing down the side of your neck, then your collarbone, before both hands rise to cup your now bare tits, and his mouth glides along your heated flesh. When he closes it around a nipple and laves his tongue around it in slow circles, you arch your back, moaning with abandon; Steve inches closer, the head of his cock nudging more insistently against your cunt. He repeats his ministrations on the other nipple, hands kneading and squeezing the pliant skin of your chest gently until you’re whining and bucking against him.

“You ready, baby?” he purrs. He lifts his eyes to yours, pupils blown so wide and black within his dark irises that it’s like staring into twin pools of ink. You open your mouth to respond just as Steve grips himself by the base of his cock and grinds the shaft against your soaked slit, up and down, up and down, grazing your clit with every stroke. If you weren’t so smitten by him, you’d fucking kill him.

Growling, you plunge both hands into his hair, tugging hard at the locks by his temples as you did before, and Steve’s shocked gasp skitters across your face. 

“Fuck me before I lose my goddamned mind,” you pant, voice much less authoritative than you’d like it to be. You compensate by jerking Steve’s head back, punctuating your demand, and he laughs. 

“If you insist.”

Both of your wrists are swept up in one of his hands and pinned above your head so fast you don’t have time to react. The head of his cock presses against your hole, thick and hot. Despite his thorough prep work, you can tell this will still be quite the stretch. You hitch your legs up over his hips as he prods further, keening and squirming as your pussy struggles to accommodate the sheer girth of him – it fucking burns, but the pain doesn’t discourage you in the slightest. Still, you can’t help the pitiful mewls that fall from your lips, nor the way your body thrashes against Steve’s iron grip.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, voice rough with arousal. “You can take it. I know you can. Just relax. Does it hurt?”

“K-Kinda.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“Fuck no, please don’t stop,” you plead, and Steve huffs out a laugh. 

When the head finally pops inside you, you reflexively bear down on it and release a broken moan through gritted teeth, and Steve’s low groan reverberates through your body. “So fucking tight, fuck baby,” he moans, and just as your lips part to beg him to keep going, he thrusts in another inch. Steve pushes inside of you slowly and steadily, sucking air through his teeth and screwing his eyes shut so tight you wonder if he’s consciously keeping himself from cumming already.

Then – he pulls out.

Fuck it. You’re gonna kill him and kill him slowly.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he wheezes, scrambling off the bed and leaving you with a spasming, achingly empty hole and questions on your tongue. The low lighting doesn’t afford you much clarity on what Steve is doing. Under normal circumstances, you’d probably find the way he’s frenziedly flitting about the room, naked as the day he was born, funny, but you are legs akimbo on his bed, alone, with nary an explanation as to why he pulled his dick out of you in the first place.

It dawns on you when he finds what he’s looking for and kneels on the bed again, and the slim plastic wrapper in his hand gleams in the lamplight.

Duh.

“I completely forgot,” he says, smiling bashfully as he frees the condom from its wrapper and rolls it down over his flushed cock. You can’t help it – you’re disappointed he’s not gonna be fucking you raw tonight. You understand why he can’t, why you can’t let him, of course, and if you’d had your wits about you, you’d have reminded him about it yourself. But still. 

Steve kisses your forehead as he lines himself up with your cunt again, and this time, he doesn’t make you beg at all – he thrusts almost half his length inside of you in one go, and you forget all about the condom for the moment.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, Steve!” You twist his sheets up into your fists, shocked you don’t tear a hole clean through the fabric, and your mouth hangs open as Steve bullies his cock deeper inside you. Pleasure rumbles through him, something you feel rather than hear at first because he leans over you, one hand supporting the small of your back, lifting you partially off the bed, and presses your bodies together. He plants wet kisses along the side of your neck and down your chest, breath washing over your skin as he pants raggedly. 

“You have no idea how hard it was to not just fuck you raw, baby,” he murmurs. A shiver ripples down your back and you moan, the sound swinging high and cracking in your throat because that is maybe the hottest thing he could have said in this moment. 

“I would’ve let you,” you admit, the words slipping from your mouth without much thought given to them, and perhaps you’d be embarrassed at your stark honesty, or how desperate you sound if Steve didn’t groan so deliciously in your ear afterward and start snapping his hips forward faster.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, breathless. With every thrust, he buries himself just a bit deeper inside you, and the ever-increasing fullness makes it hard to think, let alone maintain any sort of filter on your words. It still burns just that little bit, enough to remind you that you’ve never had anything – or anyone – this big inside of you before, and it just makes this sweeter. 

“God, yes, absolutely,” you huff, because it’s true – you’d never admit it to him, would never tell a single soul or even pen it in the margins of your diary, but you have spent more than one sleepless night in your life with your hand jammed down the front of your underwear, fantasizing about Steve Harrington filling your pussy with load after load until his cum dribbled steadily out of your thoroughly used hole. You’d always flush with embarrassment afterward, when the warm glow of your orgasm had faded and you had to deal with your soaked sheets before they went cold under your ass, mostly because, at that point, you’d hardly said five words to the guy. 

Steve adjusts his grip, hands sliding from your back to behind both knees before he pushes them toward your chest. When he bucks against you next, it’s all you can do not to scream. He can get so fucking deep at this angle, with your hips tilted up and Steve looming over you, and you’re positively flabbergasted when you look down between your bodies and realize he hasn’t even pushed his entire length inside of you yet. You’re brimming with him, entirely full, you don’t think you could take another inch, but still you whine and look up at him through your lashes.

“Deeper,” you plead, weakly gripping his elbows for purchase. “P-Please, deeper…more…”

 He chuckles, a low sound that rolls like thunder through your body and makes gooseflesh prickle across your skin, and when he pushes a sweat-damp clump of hair from his eyes, you realize just how bright they are. The way they flash at you, coupled with the sheen of sweat glistening off his pinked cheeks and the parting of his red, swollen lips to allow passage for his heaving breaths makes you wish you had a camera. You’d live in this moment forever if you could, Steve pounding you into the mattress and gazing at you like this, like you’re the only thing in the world he cares about.

“You’re fuckin’ twitching around me, baby, are you gonna cum already?” he asks, and the question drops you back into your body at once, though you weren’t aware you’d been floating out of it in the first place. He’s right – without having even acknowledged your clit the entire time Steve’s had his cock inside of you, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, your cunt fluttering sporadically around his length. You open your mouth to reply, but no sound beyond gasping breath comes out, and this is apparently greatly amusing to Steve.

“Oh, you are, aren’t you? My pretty girl’s gonna cum all over my cock and I’ve barely even started, huh?” 

His words are like a crank winding an invisible cord that stretches from your core to your clit, one that has already been pulled so taut that you don’t think it’ll withstand his mouth much longer. You want to cum so fucking badly, but you also don’t want to be finished yet, and before you can verbalize any of that to Steve, he’s bearing down on you and pushing your thighs even further back. You’re not sure how you manage it, because you could’ve sworn you were not this flexible before tonight, but Steve forces your legs almost flush against your shoulders and slots both arms behind your knees, so you can’t close them even if you wanted to; he crowds against you, the full weight of his body now accompanying each thrust as he obliges your earlier request and sinks deeper into your drooling pussy than you thought possible.

Your mind goes blissfully blank. The tether in your belly snaps, and you start cumming so hard on Steve’s cock that you can’t even manage a scream – your mouth opens, a perfectly rounded O as your eyes screw themselves shut, and your back arches off his bed, your orgasm igniting every nerve in your body until you’re little more than a writhing live wire. It’s intense – that’s the only word you have for it, understatement of the century though it may be. You clench so tight around Steve that you’re shocked you don’t force him out of you, and he just keeps fucking you through it.

“That’s it, baby,” he croons, swiping the hair from your face with one hand and holding you in place. “That’s it, good girl, keep cumming for me, fuck, I can feel you soaking my cock–” 

“Steve, fuck, fuck, God, don’t stop, please,” you wheeze, your pleasure ebbing just enough for you to draw a small breath and find your voice again. You reach up, fingers shaking before settling in his hair, and tug the locks at the nape of his neck as your body trembles uncontrollably. Though he does moan in that way you’re rapidly becoming addicted to as you pull his hair, he slows his pace to a devastatingly slow grind and releases your legs. They flop uselessly down onto the bed, tingling with pins and needles, and you whimper pitifully as Steve takes this moment to sit up on his heels.

“Steve–”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, it’s okay,” he assures you, resting both hands on your aching hips and kneading small circles into the soft flesh with his thumbs. “I’m here.”

“Did you…?” You glance down at where your bodies are still joined, and Steve snorts.

“Almost. That’s why I had to stop for a sec. You just feel too fucking good.”

You can’t help the smug grin that creeps across your lips. You’re tempted to rock against him anyway, or perhaps even knock him backward and ride him until he can’t take it anymore, but your leaden limbs forbid you from making any significant strides toward either option. Steve pants above you, hands slowly migrating up the squishy expanse of your stomach, past your breasts, and finally landing on either side of your jaw before he licks his lips and bends toward you. He kisses you, chaste and gentle, a featherlight brush of his mouth against yours, and his thumbs press somewhat insistently at your temples.

“You’re crying,” he informs you, and again, it’s Steve’s observation that brings you back to your body – the sides of your face are wet, and if you turn your head at all, you can feel your damp hair sliding around on the pillow. “Are you okay?”

“Mmhmm…very, very okay,” you purr. “Jus’ felt good, that’s all…”

If your orgasm was like a firework shooting off and exploding inside of you, the afterglow you’re nestled in is like a warm bath, with every inch of you buzzing pleasantly in sluggish pleasure. Steve kisses you again, trailing his lips up past your cheekbone so he can plant them square in the middle of your sweaty forehead. The juxtaposition of this tenderness, the capacity he has to be so gentle with you after he just had you bent in half and seemed hellbent on fucking you through the bed, makes your stomach flutter with the kind of girlish giddiness only Steve can bring out of you. 

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asks. His cock throbs inside of you, but when he pulls back far enough to flash you that sweet, lopsided smile of his you know he’d roll off in a heartbeat if you asked him to. But you do not want him to do that, not even slightly, so you find the strength to lift your thighs and wrap them around his hips before you nod, grinning dopily, and say, “Please keep fucking me, Steve.”

His mouth is on yours before you’re finished saying his name. His movements have slowed, from the glide of his tongue past your lips to the roll of his hips, and he greedily swallows the keening whines that bubble up from your throat as his cock drags along your oversensitive walls. Your breath hitches every time he pushes himself as deep as he can go, something he makes a note of with a laugh and a playful nip to your bottom lip.

“You like being full of my cock, huh, beautiful?” he murmurs, ducking his head. He’s seemingly decided you need more hickeys, as evidenced by the way he starts sucking on a patch of flesh just beneath your ear like he’s trying to draw blood from the thumping veins below. 

“S-So much, yeah.”

“Yeah? That’s not even all of it, baby.”

“It’s not?” you whine, incredulous, and Steve snickers against your skin, shaking his head. 

“No, but I think it’d hurt if I tried to fit it all inside of you,” he says, and there’s something sharp in his voice – something mocking. 

“You don’t know that,” you huff, and Steve hums against your throat. 

He takes one of your hands in his, guiding it toward where he’s buried inside you, and says, “Feel that? Feel how nice and full you are now?”

You nod. Steve drops your hand. “Now feel how much of me is still left,” he says.

You do, fingers twitching along the length that remains outside of you, and you’re shocked. There must be at least two inches that Steve has yet to stuff you with, or perhaps that he physically can’t stuff you with, and while you want so badly for him to just shove the rest of it inside, you consider he may be right. His thick cockhead pulses where it’s resting inside your pussy, nestled against the very back of you; any deeper, he’d certainly hit your cervix, something you’ve experienced before with other (clumsy, inconsiderate, douchey) partners and would very much so like to never experience again. Still, your pride weathers this slight blow, and you compensate by wrapping your fingers around the bit of Steve’s cock that you can’t accommodate.

“Fuck,” he moans, drawing the word out nice and long as you start to jerk him off. He lifts his head from your throat, mouth curling into a shocked smile as he rocks his hips into your fist and, consequently, your cunt. “That’s…fuck, that’s really hot, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is breathy, and pleasure sparks anew throughout your core. You have to twist your wrist at a slightly odd angle to get a grip on him with both of your bodies in the way, and your fingers keep slipping in the ample lubrication your pussy supplies, so it’s perhaps the clumsiest handjob you’ve ever given, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. He thrusts into you messily, brows pinched and swollen mouth dropped open as he chases his peak inside you, and your free hand raises to cup the side of his face.

“Cum in me,” you whisper, and the broken sound that tumbles from Steve’s lips spurs you on. You push back against him and bear down on his cock at the same time you squeeze your fist, the rubber rim of the condom skidding beneath your fingers. He slumps forward, pressing his cheek into your palm, hands shooting out to catch himself before he falls headlong into your chest. Sweat beads at his hairline and trickles down the long column of his throat before pooling in the hollow at the base, and the sight is so tempting you sit up and lave your tongue over his salty skin. 

“Cum in me,” you say again, “please, Steve. I need it, please, please.” 

“God-fucking-dammit,” he growls, his hips stuttering, chest heaving, and not a second later, he’s cumming. You can’t feel his load inside you – a fact that inspires a non-zero amount of disappointment that hasn’t abated since the second he slid the condom on – but watching him cum is enough to make that disappointment vanish. He goes silent for a beat as his peak overwhelms him, but when his cock starts to pulse inside your cunt and within your loose fist, fresh moans rip themselves from his throat, and you are so fucking thankful that Steve Harrington is not afraid to be loud for you. His body tenses and shudders as he pumps into you erratically. 

Just as you think he’s finished, and you’ve begun to take your cramping hand back, Steve stops you. He’s panting, gasping for air like he’s just finished a marathon, and his eyes are positively sparkling. He places your hand back on your pussy, and when you don’t move, he nods his head.

“Make yourself cum for me again,” he says simply, and it’s all you can do not to balk at him.

“But you just–”

“Don’t care. You can give me one more, baby.” 

Of all the things you’ve done tonight – in the last 48 hours, really – touching yourself in full view of Steve is the thing that makes you blush the deepest. You swallow thickly, fingers hesitating over your admittedly swollen clit, and Steve chuckles. He’s not as hard as he was moments ago, and you can feel him softening the longer he remains inside you, but that doesn’t stop him from jerking his hips forward harder in encouragement.

“C’mon, you’re gonna give me one more,” he insists. “Touch that pretty pussy for me, show me how you do it when you’re all by yourself.”

Well, when he says it like that.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and make quick work of your clit, rubbing circles around the throbbing bud as Steve fucks you fast and sloppy. You really didn’t think you had it in you at first, but once again, your body seems to have an endless capacity for orgasms when you’re around Steve – the coil in your belly winds itself quickly this time, burning blood-hot between your hips and readying itself to snap faster than you’ve ever experienced before. A wicked thought crosses your mind then, one that involves Steve testing just how quickly he can make you cum, and how many times he can replicate that speed, and you resolve to bring it up to him at a later date as your pussy spasms and Steve moans above you.

“Fuck yes, I can feel you getting close, that’s it,” he babbles, breathy laughter carrying his reassurance, and with one last well-placed thrust, you’re cumming on his cock again. God help you, there’s a splash, and wet heat soaks between your fingers as Steve fucks you through your orgasm, audibly impressed with how much you cum this time.

“Good fucking girl, I knew you had it in you. Shoulda put a towel down.”

You’d shush him if you had any air in your lungs. 

He pulls out and delicately unwinds your trembling thighs from his hips, beaming at you the whole time he peels the condom off his dick and disposes of it in a small wastebasket. When he returns to the bed, he scoops you up and rolls you over, placing himself in the wet spot you’ve created and dragging you on top of him so all you can feel is his solid warmth. He peppers kisses along your dampened hairline and gently strokes both hands up and down the length of your spine, pausing above the swell of your ass to knead his fingers into your heated flesh a few times. Your hearts are pounding, and for a moment, you swear they beat in sync. You tell yourself it must be the post-orgasm endorphin drop making the world a little rosier than it truly is.

“I’m so proud of you, pretty girl,” Steve murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead and tilting your face toward his. His cheeks still have an adorable flush to them, and his hair is slicked away from his face with sweat. You note the twin moles stamped on the left side of his face, right on the apple of his cheek, and surge forward on your elbow to capture them in a kiss. 

“You feel okay?” he asks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I kinda wanted you to, but–”

“Oh?”

Motherfuck. You and your big mouth. 

“Uh…” Steve stares at you, eyes bright and curious, and the corner of his mouth flirts with a grin. He looks…intrigued? You don’t know why that’s so shocking, considering you’ve yanked on his hair like they were a horse’s reins multiple times tonight and he nearly melted in your hands, but you blush all the same under his gaze and chew your bottom lip.

“We can definitely talk about that,” he says, and his voice is surprisingly soft given the mischievous look on his handsome face. 

“Really?”

“Well, I mean, kinda depends on what you mean by “hurt” you,” he adds, raising two fingers to twitch around the word “hurt.” “D’you mean, like, get a lil’ rough with you, or…like, stick you with a cattle prod?”

“Cattle prod,” you deadpan, and in the beat of silence that follows, genuine fear flashes across Steve’s face. You snort, smacking him lightly in the center of his chest, and his abdominal muscles relax noticeably beneath you. 

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t thoroughly enjoy everything that you just did, by the way,” you clarify, flattening your palm between his pecs and idly mussing his chest hair. “‘Cause I did. I just…like it a little rougher, sometimes, too.”

“I can do rougher,” Steve asserts, pinching a lock of your hair between thumb and forefinger and delicately tucking it behind your ear. Your belly flutters at the prospect, and though you already have suggestions bubbling up your throat, your tongue feels too thick in your mouth to adequately communicate any of them. In fact, the more Steve caresses your body, the heavier you feel, and it’s only after his face begins to blur that you realize that your eyelids are drooping.

“Tired?” he laughs as you blink a few times.

“Mmm,” you mumble, noncommittal, even as your head comes down to nuzzle into his neck and your thoughts go fuzzy at the edges. “Can’t sleep…curfew…”

“I’ll wake you up,” he promises. “Just nap, baby, it’s okay. I got you.”

You grumble again, a piss-poor argument that Steve does not heed. Instead, he drags his fingers through the hair on the side of your head, careful not to snag on any tangles, his touch so light it makes you shiver. It is impossible to ignore the pull of unconsciousness when someone is playing with your hair, that’s just an objective fact, and so you sigh, limbs loosening and body going slack on top of Steve’s as he lulls you deeper into darkness.

~~~

Turns out, Steve’s sweatpants fit you.

Well, maybe “fit” is being generous – you had to knot the drawstrings as tight as they would go to keep the waistband above your hips, and it still slings well below the curve of your pelvis if you don’t bunch the front up in your fist and manually hold it up. They’re also comically long, and you’ve had to cuff the legs three times over just to make sure you don’t trip over the fabric that otherwise puddles around your feet.

The heater purrs as it drools warmth into the interior of Steve’s car, a welcome reprieve from the freezing October air that presses against the windows. They’re fogged, and you absently draw little doodles on the misty glass with one finger. Queen’s second self-titled album plays faintly, a throbbing bassline and Freddie Mercury’s crooning vocals filling the narrow space between you and Steve.

“I didn’t peg you as a Queen guy,” you say, gesturing in the direction of his cassette deck, your hand interlocked with his and beside the gear shift. He scoffs.

“You kidding? I love Queen,” he says emphatically and takes his hand off the steering wheel for a moment to spin the volume dial. As he does, the song changes, bleeding seamlessly into the next one; Freddie’s voice reaches its peak just as a few bright notes are plunked on a piano, and a beat is thudded out on the drums. Steve sings along, loudly, and though you can tell he’s not being serious about it, his voice is smooth and clear. You’re so enamored by the sight of him that the lyrics don’t register right away, not until he leans into your space, eyes pinned fastidiously to the darkened road ahead, and sings at you.

“Funny how love is everywhere, just look and see.”

They’re just words, not even Steve’s words, but your cheeks color nonetheless.

“Funny how love is anywhere you’re bound to be.” His gaze flickers from the road for a moment, one singular moment, and he looks right at you. Your belly flips, and the heat in your face burns all the way down your neck. If it were anyone else, literally any other human being on the planet, you’d be tucking and rolling out of the car the moment they started serenading you, even as a joke – but this is Steve, and he’s smiling so wide, and he’s fucking harmonizing with Freddie Mercury, and he shakes your intertwined hands to the beat as he does it, so you’re content to sit here and let him give you a rendition of the entire rest of the album if he wants to. 

You definitely don’t get hung up on the fact that he looked you in the eye while he sang about love. Nope. Not at all.

The song peters out just as Steve pulls up to your house, and he checks his watch as he puts the car in park, nodding at the glowing numbers proudly.

“Back, and with five minutes to spare this time,” he announces.

“I’ll have to tip you for the excellent service,” you tease.

“I accept cash, credit, or a kiss on the lips,” Steve shoots back, already dragging you toward him and leaning his body over the gear shift. You giggle, and he swallows the sound, pressing his warm mouth against yours so tenderly you’d hardly believe the filth it’s capable of if you weren’t a firsthand witness.

He helps you shrug your jacket on before you step out of the car, and the chill of the night gusts against you so intently you can’t help but shudder. You stoop down as he rolls the passenger side window down for you, just as you had the night before.

“You comin’ to movie night on Sunday?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t miss it. D’you think Robin will let me pick if it’s my first time? And I ask her so nicely?”

“I think you’d have a better shot at winning the lottery and getting struck by lightning on the same day,” Steve estimates, “but I can check. Who knows, maybe she’ll be feeling generous.”

“Tell her I’ll bring extra hot chips if she is.”

Steve laughs, and both hands come up to cup the sides of your face. He kisses you again, and this time it’s slower, languid, a purposeful prolonging of your departure. You gladly accept it, and again, there’s a pang in your stomach, a desperate want to hop back in the car with him and not let the night end. When he pulls away from you, playfully nipping your bottom lip, Steve murmurs something against your lips that makes you feel like Earth has stopped spinning.

“D’you wanna be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

The innocence, the painful earnestness of the question strikes you, makes the breath catch in your throat, and Steve’s eyes glitter with starlight as he looks up at you. “It’s probably kinda silly, considering…well, considering, but, I mean, I wanted to…yanno, ask, formally…I know it’s only been two dates, but, I just, I really like you, and I wanna keep doing this, seeing you, and I wanna be the only one seeing you –”

“Like there could be anyone else,” you breathe, and this time it’s your own words that shock you. You could see the whirlwind beginning in his head, the anxious avalanche of words to defend himself from potential humiliation, so you just blurted that out because, well, duh, of course there isn’t anyone else you’d want to be with. You knew that from the second he picked you up with flowers in his hand last night.

He perks visibly. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes.” 

You hear the door whoosh open, slam shut, and gravel crunching underfoot before you register that Steve has gotten out of the car and is rounding on you. When he grabs you, one hand supporting the small of your back, the other plunging into your hair, and dips you backward to plant a kiss on your mouth, you try your damndest not to focus on the fact that not only is he not wearing shoes, but his socks are mismatched – one white tube sock, one black with green swirls. You mostly succeed, and you think the giggle that tickles against his lips passes as one of shock. 

As he tips you upright, something out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. A light is flickering from your house, and as you squint against it, you realize it’s not the flicker of an old bulb fizzling out. It’s measured, a steady pattern, and the reason for this is quickly made apparent as the dark shape of your mother floats in front of the curtains. She’s flicking the porch light on and off, signaling for you to hurry it up, and you’re torn on whether you wanna die right on the spot, or march up the driveway and throttle her.

“That’s my cue,” you sigh, but when you turn to look at Steve, there’s something odd about his expression. He’s fixated on the light, which casts scattered shadows across the angles of his face, and his eyes are sort of…glazed. There’s a faraway look to them, as though he’s gone somewhere in his head that you can’t reach.

“Steve?” You thump his chest once, not too hard, and he inhales sharply through his nose. He blinks a few times before shaking his head, like he’s physically shucking whatever unpleasantness was burdening him off, and just like that, he’s himself again.

“I’ll pick you up Sunday afternoon,” he says, kissing you one last time on the forehead before allowing you to step out of his embrace. You want to ask what that was, where he went just now, why his eyes keep flitting almost nervously between you and your porch light – perhaps the threat of your mother scares him that much? – but you don’t have time. You both part from each other slowly, him walking backward toward his car, you retreating up your driveway.

“I’ll pick something good!” you holler, and Steve nods.

“See you then, baby.” 

You’re backing up against the front steps of your house as Steve disappears into his front seat, and the sound of your front door opening is muted by the revv of his engine.

“Right on time,” your mother says from behind you, shadow obstructing the yellowy light that spills onto the porch. You look over your shoulder at her, eyes narrowed.

“You know, I’m legally an adult,” you point out, “I shouldn’t have a curfew.”

“He’s got a nice car,” Mom says, craning her neck to look around you and tucking the fuzzy blue halves of her robe tighter against her body. “Does he drive like a maniac?”

“Yes, he’s like Dale Earnhardt but worse,” you snark, eyes glued to the glittering shell of Steve’s BMW as it curves down the street and into the yawning mouth of the night.

He does have a nice car…your boyfriend has a nice car. The word is like helium, lifting you off the ground and floating you inside the house.

“Wait…weren’t you wearing a skirt when you left?” Mom asks as you glide past her. “Where did you get those sweats from?”

Oops.

taglist: @celestialwaavelength , @bornslippys , @silky-luxe , @pettydonuts , @littlered000 . interact with this post if you'd like to be added to my taglist!

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Please # 51 “I’m your husband. It’s my job.”   ☁️For Quinn Thank you !

ooo this is very Quinn Hughes - eldest daughter, protector of everyone coded for sure!

Drabble Masterlist.

"I'm your husband. It's my job."

You were sick, sicker than you have ever been. It was some type of stomach bug that was going around and for some reason your body just couldn't shake it. This was one of the first times in your entire life that you truly had relay on someone fully to help take care of you.

Quinn was amazing throughout the entire experinece. He brought you soap and made sure you ate things that you could actually keep down. Since you felt so sick he kept a bucket next to your side of the bed for you to throw up in if needed, he never complained when he had to clean it out even though if roles were reversed you defintely would. Your body was so fatigued that you even had to get Quinn to help you to the bathroom. He helped you shower, he made sure even though you felt like crap you still showered everyday because he knows that's important.

He made sure you took all your medicine on time and listened to all the doctors instructions. Even though you told him not too because he would get sick, he never left your side almost always cuddling you as you watched whatever you wanted on T.V. You were so out of it you didn't even realize at one point you were watching a Canucks game and Quinn was cuddling up next to you instead of on the ice in Seattle. But once your mind realized you gasped in shock.

Quinn tore his eyes from the t.v. quickly, "what's wrong?" he asked frantically ready to jump up to help in anyway he could.

"Quinny! That's your team!" you tried to raise your voice but it came out more dry and raspy then you would of liked. A smile slowly creeped on his face.

"Yeah that's why I'm watching it gotta make sure Brock and Petty are doing a good job for me." he chuckles still looking down at you.

"No. Your suppose to be there not here. It's your job to be there! People are counting on you. If you leave now you'll make the Kings game for tomorrow." you argue, you try to push him so he leaves the bed but even if you weren't weak from being sick you wouldn't be able to move Quinn unless he wanted you to.

"Yes it's my job. But I'm your husband. It's my job to take care of you. Remember, sickness and health, they'll be okay for a few games without me." grabbing your and pulling you so you were pracatically laying on top of me. "Both are my job, but your my most important job. Okay?" he asks making sure your paying attention even in your delirious state due to the stomach flu.

"okay." you whisper, turning your head trying to focus on the game on the t.v. but you fall asleep before the current shift was even over.

[garbinge]

HARMONY AFTER THE STORM

Tyler Owens x F!Reader // Word Count: 2.7k Summary: After a long day, you wind down back at the motel and share a sweet moment at the parking lot bonfire with Tyler Owens. Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Fluff. Established relationship. Light angst (based on details of the heaviness of storm chasing). No use of y/n. A/N: Trying out somethin a liiiil new layout wise for my fics! Tyler Owens brain rot is in full effect and this fluffy little number makes my heart warm.

Your phone speaker hummed as music vibrated against the bathroom sink while you washed the day off in the shower. The motel’s water pressure wasn’t the best, but you weren’t complaining, you were happy there was hot water and soap left. You were always the last of the crew to shower, while that ran the risk of running out of hot water, it also awarded you the most peaceful shower. Everyone was gone, outside gathered around bonfires, maybe fixing up equipment. Point was, it left you alone to decompress with your music and sometimes you’d sneak a shower beer in as well, you were a southern girl after all. 

After a day of chasing storms, getting dirt practically embedded into your skin, the chaos of all the voices, the engines, the winds, this was your peace, your grounding. The soft music buzzing as you swayed back and forth as the water fell down your body. Washing down the drain along with the dirty water was all your anxiety from the day. While you loved chasing tornadoes, you also fully were aware of the effect it had on your psyche. You weren’t as easy as the others in the crew. Boone loved the thrill, he was crazy in the best way possible. Lilly was a free-spirit, she would go wherever the winds blew her and thrive effortlessly. Dani and Dexter, they were too smart for their own good, every equation, every problem, they’d smile through finding the solution. And Tyler, well, he was a good combination of it all while also just plainly and simply loving it. The clouds, the storms, he found beauty in them. For him it was passion.  For you, you did enjoy it, the thrill of it all, the problem solving, the fact that it kept you on your toes moving.  And you couldn’t lie, the storms were fucking beautiful when you really looked at them. But for you the reasoning was more difficult. You wanted to help. But that came with a heavy burden, but for you helping outweighed all those bad moments. That’s how it was for everyone in the crew, you just felt like the mental images of wreckage stayed with you a little longer than everyone else. Which is why these showers were your favorite, it helped you process it all. 

“Hey baby, it’s just me!” Tyler called out as he entered the motel room. “Just lookin’ for Lilly’s drone repair case!” His eyes were looking around the room, there were tons of bags and things scattered across the floor, the beds, and anything resembling a table. His announcement out to you was just so he didn’t startle you with his presence, but he knew very well how important that end of the day shower was to you which is why he wasn’t paying much attention to the open door of the bathroom. 

Between the music on your phone and the shower you didn’t hear him come in. Just continued your swaying, letting the water bounce off your face. As the song changed, you began to mumble along, your voice echoing against the bathroom acoustics despite you only lowly singing with the speaker. 

As Tyler bent down to grab the case, his eyebrows furrowed, the left side of his lips twitched up in a smile, his mouth open as he let out a whispered chuckle. There was a lot crossing his mind at the moment. It was obvious you hadn’t heard him come in, not because you were singing but because you were singing and hadn’t acknowledged him. As he heard you mumbling the country music from damn near a decade ago he couldn’t help but grin. It was music you’d both listen to when you first started dating. The song was one he hadn’t heard in ages but when it filled his ears now, and your voice joined along with it, he couldn’t wipe the grin from his face. His head turned towards the bathroom door that was wide open as he stood up straight, the drone case now in his hand resting at his side. The frosted shower curtain tried its best to censor out what was behind it, but your blurred silhouette could still be seen as you moved your hips back and forth to the beat. That grin on Tyler's grin didn’t fade, if anything it grew bigger. Dropping the case on the bed before walking over to the bathroom, he leaned his shoulder on the open door frame as his arms crossed, and his right foot crossed over the left. Seeing you like this made his heart happy, he was no stranger to the weight your storm chasing days had on you. His mind couldn’t help but jump back to those first few years of your relationship, ones that were littered with memories of late night drives, line dancing and stepping on eachother’s feet, camping out in the bed of his truck in the middle of the Arkansas farmland plains. It was crazy that all this time had passed and you hadn’t done any of the things that made you fall in love with each other for what now he realized felt like a really long time. Your lives were consumed with this and while he knew you didn’t mind, it didn’t stop his own from wandering. His head fell down with one more smile, opting to not say anything to you and ruin your post-chase ritual. Pushing off the door frame, he grabbed the case and left the motel room to rejoin the group outside. 

Your hair was still damp from the shower, but you had fresh clothes on and felt like a new person. Quickly you tossed your shoes on, grabbed your phone from the bathroom sink and made your way down the stairs to join the crew. At this point, they had all gathered around the bonfire, leaving the rest of the repairs and work for tomorrow. Guitars of some of the chasers from other groups were playing as the groups gathered with their beers and mingled. It was one of your favorite things about being on the road like this, just random people joining together all in the common interest of storms. But these moments weren't always about twisters, they were about comradery, they were about friendship, laughs. It was memories in the making.

As you reached into the cooler, you pulled out two cans of beer. The condensation and melted ice falling off them in drops as you made your way closer to the bonfire circle. While there weren't many empty seats left around the fire, you knew you always had one reserved for you. You spotted Tyler before you even trekked down the stairs of the motel, his laugh was loud and could be heard from miles away. Your eyes had found him in the crowd almost immediately so once you were on the ground level, all you needed to do was make your way over to him. 

“Hey.” It came out as a whisper in his ear while leaning over the back of the chair he was reclined slightly back on. Your hands fell down against his chest, the cold beers you got for both of you were resting against him now. He stopped talking and looked up at you, his hand instinctively reaching up your arms and guiding you to sit down in his lap which you did without hesitation.

“Hey country girl.” His left hand caught your back as you moved down onto his legs, his other hand resting over your legs that dangled off the side of him as well as the chair. 

As your face scrunched up in a humorous and unclear look, you adjusted yourself in his lap, Tyler providing you support as you did so. 

“Country girl?” You questioned him, still confused as to what he meant. You were a lot of things, nickname wise, to him. He’d come up with something for everything over the years but this was one you hadn’t heard. 

He didn’t answer you, just smiled and placed a quick kiss on your arm before taking one of the beers from your hands to crack open before continuing his conversation from before you arrived.

And if that wasn’t enough, Lilly’s voice was taking you away from even thinking about what Tyler had said. “We fixed the drone!”

Tyler's head was resting on the side of your arm, chatting with the person to his left, although to you it was behind. Your time was being occupied by leaning forward a bit to talk with Lilly who was in the seat to Tyler’s right. She was catching up on the details with Cairo, the drone that had been just as much a part of your crew as each human member. You were so invested in the conversation that you almost missed the familiar strumming in the faint distance. It took you a few seconds but your head turned and took in the guitar players nodding and tapping their feet to the song you were just singing to while you showered. 

Your lips began to curve up, you felt Tyler’s hand move up your back, rubbing it over your shirt. As you looked down at him, your smile still only slightly curved and your eyes knowingly doing all the talking for you, his own grin widened and he looked down away from your gaze with a laugh. 

“Tyler Owens, were you spying on me?” You whispered it, only wanting this to be a moment between the two of you. 

“It’s possible.” He cheesed even harder as he looked back up into your gaze again. 

With a shake of your head, you looked away so you could roll your eyes before nestling in closer to him. Your side was falling against his chest, but your head found its comfortable position rested on his shoulder as you sunk down a bit more. “You told them to play this?” 

“I did.” He said it so matter of fact while looking over at the guitar players, his hands coming around you tighter as he held you as close to him as possible. “I came in to grab somethin’ for Lilly. Called out to you and everythin’.” His shoulders moved your face up and down as he shrugged. “Just as I was about to leave I heard this song start, and some pretty little voice joinin’ along with it.” You felt yourself get a little warm as he said it, a mix of fluster and a little embarrassment. “Got me thinkin’ about when we first started hangin’ out.” 

“S’why I listen to it. It reminds me of you.” You knew Tyler felt a little warm in the cheeks too. 

Both of you closed your eyes and just let the music consume you. His head relaxing slightly on yours as you both slightly moved to the beat. You felt his lips against your temple a couple times as the song went on. Each one saying how much you meant to him. 

As the song began to wind down, Tyler hummed. “We should do some of the old stuff we used to do again.” 

You let out a slight snort, one that made Tyler laugh as well as he waited for some explanation. “Tornado wranglers by day and country line dancers by night?” 

“Was talkin’ more about the truck bed camping and late night drives.” While both of you had done the line dancing thing, it by far wasn’t your favorite event. Thinking about it, you both might have gotten more injured there than you did chasing tornadoes. 

“We could do that.” Agreeing, you still kept your eyes closed shut, enjoying the last bits of the song, reimagining the old memories you shared while now thinking of how you could make them new. “Would be a nice change of pace.” 

“I could join you next time in the shower, too. If you’re just looking for a change of pace.” His eyebrows raised as he opened his one eye to peek over at you for your reaction. 

“Could work.” A smirk played at your lips in response. It was then that you realized the song was starting over and you opened your eyes to look at Tyler as your brows grew closer together. “How many times did you ask them to play it?” You were sitting up now, trying to figure out what Tyler was up to.

His arms were still wrapped around your body despite you moving up. “Told ‘em to play until you danced with me.” 

With a similar eye roll as before, you stood up now, your hands filling the space where his just were on your hips in a slight show of attitude. Those damn blue green eyes were looking up at you with the most tender and sweet look attached to them. One that you couldn’t bear to let down so you extended your hand out for him to take it. “Let’s go, Owens.” 

His hand gripped around yours in seconds and when he stood up, he raised his arm with yours to twirl you around until you spun against his chest. Your free hand raising up to brace for impact on his pecks. “We gotta work on your balance if we’re gonna be going line dancing.” He teased you before starting to walk with you practically connected to his chest to a more open area of the lot. After a couple steps, he was turning his body away from you to lead you through the crowd, his hand still connected with yours as you trailed behind him. Once the more open area was in your midst, he turned towards you and you wrapped your arm over his own so your hand was resting on his shoulder but you were leaning more into him than a more traditional slow dance hand placement. Your other hand still hadn’t let go of his own even as the swaying began, but you did feel his other arm caress your lower back to the beat, not only in a romantic way but one that kept you both moving on rhythm. This wasn’t where you expected your night going, but you were damn enjoying it, that was for sure. 

“I know this is hard on you.” His words weren’t the ones you were expecting, so as your fingers moved from his shoulders to get tangled in his blonde hair, you frowned despite knowing exactly what he was saying and looked down to make a joke out of it.

“Pretty sure I haven’t stepped on your foot once yet.” 

“No,” he laughed before getting serious again, “I just meant, I know the chase, it can wear you down.” 

You nodded in agreement but shrugged up at him, your fingers moving from his hair to lightly trace his cheek. “Stuff like this makes it easier.” 

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of your words before letting the music take over for a bit, but you weren’t going to leave it there. You wanted him to really understand that you meant what you said. 

“You know you still keep me on my toes, Owens.” You spoke to him, still shocked by how the night had progressed. 

“Good, because I don’t need you stepping on mine.” He looked down when you accidentally misstepped causing both of you to come closer together in laughs. He drew you closer, the embrace was one that spoke so much with such a small gesture. It was reassurance, the feeling of never wanting to let you go or let go of the memories you two shared over the years either. 

And that’s when you rested your head on him, now with your bodies completely against each other, your arms wrapped around his neck, realizing this moment would be added to that list. To seal its impression you lifted your head to look up at Tyler, your eyes moving from his to his lips and then brought your interlocked fingers to the nape of his neck to bring his face closer to yours. The soft, intimate kiss was your souvenir from this moment, your way of embedding this memory right along with your other cherished ones.

Dividers by @realitycanbewhateveridesire ♥️ 🌪️ Twisters Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @cinderellasmissingshoes (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[thatgirlie-diaries]

My weekly reset routine

Hello girlies! After some days offline I come back with this blog, I will be telling you quickly my every Sunday "Weekly reset routine" which is popular among girlies like us, isn't it? For me, this is the first day of my weeks and probably the most important one, since I get relaxed, taken care of and I reflect on what to focus next. I hope it inspires you in case that you don't have a routine like this, and if you do I hope that it's working well for you!

My routine

Tidy up and clean all my space: Includes the kicthen (that's my assigned section between my family), my bedroom and my bathroom. While cleaning downstairs I listen to a podcast and in my room I listen lo-fi playlist.

Begin the laundry: Every week I do my laundry, every two weeks I also add my bedsheets.

Do my full shower routine: I use shampoo, hair mask and conditioner. After, I use my cleanser and face exfoliant. To finish I use my soap, body exfoliant and shave my legs and armpits. I listen to new albums every time while showering.

Post-shower routine: I do the rest of my skincare routine, dry my hair, apply cream on my body, get comfy clothes and check my nail polish.

Tidy up my clothes

Plan and reflect: 1.How was last week? 2. I plan next week goals and tasks 3.Add calendar events 4. Revise my routines and schedule 5. Check my budget

Digital detox: Eliminate any unnecessary data on my laptop and cellphone, mostly.

My post-routine

Light a candle and listen to frequency music: I listen mostly to heal my feminine energy and positive vibes

Practice journaling: I look out for prompts or I express my feelings, I have a new journal book and I prefer now to do it by hand.

Say positive affirmations in the mirror: I get them from pinterest! I have cried twice by now, it has helped me with my inner dialoge, concept and steem.

Practice meditation and yoga: I normally practice between 20-30 minutes, for me is more than enough and actually helps me relax and maintain my mental health. I recommend you Jessica Richburg in Youtube.

Watch a movie: I really love to watch movies! So now every Sunday I make some popcorn and get cozy in my sofa to watch one. Right now I'm into chick films, they are really funny and inspire me alot.

See you girlies, time to enjoy my sunday! 𑄽𑄺ྀ

[rizsu]

fuck my life; hold me tight. model!gojo satoru ⭒ fem-reader.

satoru came back after his two-week long trip for his modeling gigs. he's the same, but who's this ‘saori’ lady with a thorny stick up her ass? wc : 6.2k · usage of y/n.

+ love ‘su: thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat! 😝 i left this without the small font bc it's lowkey a lot tbh

one › who's this?

undoubtedly, today’s the most important. you’ve been impatiently crossing off the days on the calendar until satoru returns. familiar with your excitement, he called you prior to hold you back from coming to the airport. it was strange, but nevertheless you thought less of it.

with your day now free, you spent it preparing for satoru. his favorite dishes were made, charcuterie board prepared, and the series you both watched together can be resumed. every time the thought of seeing satoru with your eyes again comes about, you get goosebumps. it’s almost sickening how he’s plagued your mind, becoming the balance-shifting object for your moods.

your eyes shift to the clock, realizing that there’s only an hour until he walks through the door. 4:00 p.m it reads, you’ve yet to shower — let alone choose an outfit. some may say your actions are too much, but nothing is ever “too much” when it comes to satoru. have you lost your marbles? not all, but perhaps you’ve become slightly boy crazy (with justifying reasons!)

4:58 p.m: you’re anxiously switching between apps on your phone, trying your best to not stare at the clock on the top of the screen. it’s insanely tempting, but you won’t give in. there’s no better distraction than window shopping on websites for items you’ll never set free with your credit card.

the door slams open, and soon a cheerful voice follows. they both jerk you out of your trance, leaving you with the pair of a palpitating heart and widened eyes.

“BABY!” a disheveled satoru shouts, recklessly dropping his luggage at the front of the door.

he walk-runs past the furniture, dodging the table corners until he’s nearing the sofa you’re situated on.

“sa-SATORU?!” you’re shocked even though you expected his arrival.

you unconsciously stood up, abandoning your phone as you moved to him. satoru mirrors you, being the first of the two to engulf you into a heartfelt hug. he squeezes you hard, burying his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder. his hand cups the back of your head, pressing softly into your hair.

“i missed you,” he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. “it took an entire week to sleep properly without you.”

“you’re addicted,” you joked, lifting a hand to ruffle his already-ruffled hair.

“not funny.”

“okay, okay, sorry. i missed you too.” you pull away from satoru, smiling at his pouting expression.

your hands move to his shoulders, gripping his puffed jacket to pull them down. he helps you by moving his arms out of it. once it’s off, he rolls his shoulders back, rolling his neck around to stretch his muscles. he’s been cooped up in a sitting position for twelve hours; the last thing he needs are stiff muscles and a sore body.

content with the new, relaxed feeling, satoru looks around. everything’s the same, as expected. nothing changed other than the charcuterie board on the coffee table and the dishes on the dining table. immediately, he recognizes the food. how could he not? it’s the food he labeled as his favorite even when it wasn’t.

in multiple attempts to please your mother on the first meeting, he went along with her words.

the soap opera she’s caught up in? oh, he’s been watching it too!

short videos she found on social media that are painfully unfunny? actually, it’s hilarious!

the lunch she cooked? it’s now something he’s been craving for weeks.

the salad? to you, he hates greens since they’re ‘flavorless’. to your mother? golly! put more on his plate!

he spent the week at your parents’ gaslighting himself until it became the truth. he became a new man after the meeting. lemon water was his new go-to (influenced by your mother) and card games are his forte (influenced by your father).

ever since then the main dish your mother cooked up became his true favorite. maybe it’s because of the warmth that came with it, or maybe it’s because he’s still gaslighting himself. nonetheless, he’ll always eat it.

“did you make all this yourself?” he questions, stealing a bite before you could’ve plated his food.

“hands off,” you slapped his hand, “i didn’t, though. i asked my mother.”

“ah, my mother-in-law. i miss your parents, too. we should visit,” he suggests, rubbing his hand that you heartlessly slapped.

“mhm, soon,” you agreed, sliding his plate to him. “let’s sit and eat.”

──

the plates are cleared, the charcuterie board’s three-quarters finished, and you’re on the final episode of season one of the show. satoru’s head is on your lap, busying his hands by poking at your thigh’s skin. your hand’s following suit, busying itself by playing with his hair strands.

the show was long forgotten, being demoted to background noise the moment you asked satoru to tell you all about the trip. you’ve heard the details beforehand during your calls, but it’s different to hear it face-to-face.

you intently listened as he talked, giving him mhms and yeahs to let him know you’re listening.

“oh, and i met a new co-worker? friend? i dunno but we’re acquainted now,” he speaks, looking up to you.

“really? i’m glad. is he a model too?”

“yeah, but it’s a she.”

you paused for a second. a she? that’s new. you’re not the type to anger yourself over your boyfriend befriending the opposite gender, but you’d still like to see her.

“i’d like to meet her,” you said, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“are you free in two days? i have a meeting that day. she’ll probably be there — no chances though, i never asked about her schedule...” his voice trails off as he ponders, trying to remember if she mentioned anything about being in a meeting after the trip.

“of course i’m free. i took a sick leave on purpose for this week.”

satoru laughs at the new information. you took a sick leave just for him? at your position of head assistant? he’ll never find someone who loves him like you do.

— two days after : the meeting.

you’re walking hand-in-hand with satoru through the hallway. you’re a little — no, incredibly nervous. it’s your first time officially meeting satoru’s business buddies. they know of you, you know of them, but that’s about it.

you dressed yourself up professionally, trying to match the classy rich vibes. it’s times like these you appreciate satoru’s over-the-top, multiple-zeros gifts. you’ll have to remember to give him special thanks for this.

“okay, we’re here,” he says, knocking you out of the nervousness.

“if you start feeling uncomfortable, squeeze my hand, okay? i’ll take you out of there,” reassuring you, he gifts you a peck on your forehead, topping it off with his genuine smile that’s only for you.

his hand turns the door knob, walking in with his model smile as he greets the members. you’re tailing behind him, trying to hide. the sudden energy shift didn’t match yours, so your instinct to hide behind satoru kicked in. unluckily for you, your boyfriend was set to formally introduce you. he uses a hand to hold your wrist, pulling you to the side of him.

“you brought a plus one with you i see,” a guy notes the obvious, smiling at your shyness. he already has an idea of who you are.

his words catch the attention of others. within seconds every pair of eyes landed on you. unfamiliar with the amount of attention, you squeezed satoru’s hand, placing a fake smile to mask your uncomfort.

“nuh uh, get your own. that’s too much staring,” satoru complains, squeezing back your hand. he steps in front of you, leading you both to two reserved seats at the table.

“i’m assuming that lady must be the one you talked everyone’s ears off about,” a lady suggests this time, stretching out her arm to you as she’s on the opposite side, but directly in front of you.

you stretched your arm out to her, accepting her handshake.

“i’m (y/n), pleasure to meet you.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you too. call me mia,” she introduces herself, ignoring the heated glare of a man who doesn’t like sharing.

similarly, you’re ignoring the gut feeling of someone glaring through your soul. the situation feels similar to your teacher staring at you during an exam when you secretly have cheating materials with you.

the meeting continues on. you were introduced to everyone and met with questions. some complained about satoru to you, and others asked how you’re able to tolerate him. of course, satoru took offense. he flipped them off with the finger that has your matching rings on.

an hour later, you’re in the building’s cafeteria with satoru. it was okay; the atmosphere was friendly — minus that one person who glared at you. you don’t know who they are, nor what they look like as you avoided that corner. your social battery is drained, and you’re hungry for a light snack.

“baby, can you order for us? i gotta let it go. real bad,” satoru says, balling his fingers into a fist to hold back the feeling.

“uh, sure, but what do you mean let it go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“piss, baby. piss. love you, bye!”

with that, satoru speeds off, almost colliding with another worker in the process.

gathering your order, you looked around for an unoccupied table to sit at. unfortunately, they’re all unoccupied. it’s a little awkward, but you’re left with no other option than to ask someone if satoru has his own office.

“ah, mia!” you called out, spotting her outside the smoking room.

“(y/n)! need anything before i smoke?” she smiles, pointing at the door.

“um, do you know if satoru has his own office?” contrary to your nervousness, your voice came out perfectly.

“take the elevator and press number ten. turn left and stop until you’re at the third room; that’s his office.”

“thanks much, mia!” you gave her a bright smile, turning around to find your new destination.

“no problem, (y/n),” she waves you off, entering the smoking room.

you followed mia’s directions, taking the elevator to floor ten and entering the third room on the left. it’s no doubt that the office is satoru’s. the pineapple-framed mirror confirmed it all. that mirror is the same mirror satoru try to convince you that it’s “in style”.

settling down in his office, you can finally be at rest. placing the food his desk, you plopped yourself down on his chair.

‘it’s comfortable, but surely it doesn’t take that long to pee,’ you think, suspecting that satoru may have gotten caught up in a conversation.

the door clicks, opening to reveal someone. your mind thought of satoru, but it was indeed not. it wasn’t even the right gender. a beautiful girl entered; her aura was a cool, mysterious, “i’m better than you” feel. confusion poured down on you. who is she and why is she here?

you don’t strike a conversation. instead, you simply watch her walk into the office until she’s in front of the desk.

“do you need some—”

“you must be gojo satoru’s bitch.”

“excuse me?” not only were you cut off, you were called a bitch. clearly, she’s not on friendly terms, and who does she think she is?

she looks down at you, placing a taunting smile on her lips. you don’t care since you’re the one on his chair, but who is she calling a bitch?!

“compared to satoru, you’re… low, to put it kindly!”

“okay, but who asked you that?” you questioned her, rolling your eyes.

if you were in a fantasy novel, she’d be the main villainess who’s engaged to the male lead for political reasons. you’re the female lead who’ll become victim to the villainess’ antics as the male lead, satoru, fell for you.

flustered at your sentence, she scoffs. compared to the shy persona you displayed at the meeting, you’re all bitchy now.

“i don’t need someone to ask me something in order to speak my mind.”

“oh my god. i didn’t ask you that, nor do i want your input.” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink.

“i don’t like you. you’re not good enough for satoru,” she voices her (unwanted) opinions, scanning you up and down.

“it’s gojo to you, missy. who’s the girlfriend here?” you noted her mistakes while making your position obvious.

she rolls her eyes, offended at being called ‘missy.’

“and it’s saori, not missy. get it right.”

“why must you disturb my tranquility with your nonsense ? please exit, missy.”

“i said it’s—”

“saori? why are you here?” satoru enters, removing his coat in the process.

“that’s what i asked her,” you said, looking at her up and down with a raised eyebrow.

“i wanted to meet your girl-friend, satoru!” suddenly her tone changed. the space she put between the word girlfriend didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

this is ridiculous.

he slowly nods, thinking that the deliberate pause between girlfriend might’ve been his imagination.

“oh, i was gonna introduce you guys. you beat me to it,” he pouts, walking over next to you to give you another kiss.

you smiled at satoru but smirked at saori.

irritated, she huffs, “i’ve seen enough, call me when you’re free from that, satoru.”

both of you watch her walk out in silence. satoru’s now confused.

“what’s that about?” he asks, scratching his head.

“is she the friend you talked about?” you answered his question with your question.

“yeah, but i don’t know why she has such an attitude all of a sudden. did her boyfriend argue with her?”

“pfft— she has a boyfriend?” you scoffed, learning that she’s not only the bitch, but potentially unloyal. why else would she bother you, who’s satoru’s girlfriend, if it wasn’t because she likes him?

he nods, shrugging off the curiosity to know what’s with her shift in behavior.

“whatever, let’s eat, baby.”

──

it’s way past your bedtime, and you’ve just arrived home. the day was eventful, minus the missy encounter, but nonetheless you had fun.

although you’re glad to be acquainted with satoru’s peers, you couldn’t shake off the suspicion that sao-whatever-her-name-is has been making advances to satoru while your presence was absent.

you can tell that satoru holds no affection to her, but you’re still worried. satoru’s loyal, yes, but he’s an oblivious idiot. if he nor you isn’t the one flirting, he wouldn’t notice anything. that’s why her behavior change whenever he’s around is seen as “friendly” and not “i want you so bad” to him.

you sighed, shaking your head to rid it of her. what’s important is that satoru isn’t interested in her. you can sleep with that comforting image in mind.

now that satoru’s home, you’ve been attached to each other like the north and south pole of two magnets. inseparable. it’s been like this for a week, but something changed.

two › is it just you or…?

the sao-still-don’t-remember-her-name missy has been ringing satoru’s phone down whether it’s by messages, voice messages, or calls. at this point, it’s annoying. satoru himself was one call away from blocking her, but he couldn’t.

aside from satoru himself, she’s the other key member in the new project. if he suddenly draws a line between them it can become what kills the project. thankfully, the conversations have been limited to work-related topics… or so you believe.

you’re on the sofa, indulging in a new show as you peeled an apple. the show’s plot became so intense that your eyes are glued to the television instead of the apple.

satoru jugs down the stairs, grabbing his car keys and running over behind you. he bends over to place a kiss on your cheek, notifying you that he’ll be meeting up with saori. not paying any mind to him, you bid him goodbye without thinking.

it’s only after he exits the door you register what he said. ‘meeting up with saori? that bitch? ew,’ you shuddered at the thought of her. she’s not scary, definitely not ugly, but sure as hell is a bitch. at least you remember her name now.

──

after that day, satoru’s free time has been occupied with her. you’re now sure it’s not “just work” that’s been going on. you trust satoru, but you don’t trust her.

there’s no reason for someone to meet up with their co-worker every day for work. work is never that interesting. it’s not like they’re in charge of the project either; the project is within the authority of mia and some other guy.

everything about the situation at hand has been bothering you. was she attached to satoru like this during the trip? were they always within arms length of each other? not even you were that clingy to satoru.

the idea to raise alarm bells to satoru crossed you, but the potential argument that may follow is what has you hesitating. you don’t want to suspect satoru’s friend, but her behavior needs to be discussed.

you waited until satoru’s home, showered, and comfortable in bed to bring forth the question. your palms are sweating, but it needs to be done.

“say satoru, can i ask you something?” you hesitated, looking at him.

“yeah, why not?” he replies, eyes stuck on his phone.

“what do you think of that girl?”

“who’s that— do you mean saori?” he laughs, “she’s cool, if i were to be honest. she’s fun to hang around with.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that she likes you?” you cold sweat, worried that he’ll take offense.

“who wouldn’t like me? i’m sexy,” he jokes, winking at you.

you playfully slap his chest. “i’m being serious here!”

“i don’t think she does— or at least i hope she doesn’t. i don’t want to be her boyfriend’s archenemy,” satoru truthfully responds, feeling his pores raise at the thought of a taken man’s enemy.

if you were to like another man satoru would honestly write a will and erase himself from history. so, it’s only natural that he hopes saori doesn’t become her boyfriend’s pain.

you hum, satisfied with his answer. it’s clear as day now. satoru doesn’t view her in any romantic way, but you know she has a thing or two for him.

not wanting to push your luck, you end it there. pulling satoru’s phone away to throw your body on his.

three › wicked witch of the west.

it’s almost as if the conversation with satoru triggered a chain reaction. for whatever the reason may be, you’ve now seen this woman more than your own parents. she invites herself over almost every day.

every time you open the door it’s her snobby face. it sickens you. you ordered a package recently and whenever someone knocks on the door, you think it’s the delivery guy, but nope! it’s the wicked witch of the west!

today it happened again. someone knocked, you opened, missy appears, satoru unwillingly follows her for the sake of the project, you’re left with murderous intent.

it’s time you talk about this with someone. that’s right, you’ve kept your worries inside you but this is just too much! there’s no reason for a taken lady to follow another man like she’s his shadow — far less for a taken man!

frustrated, you phoned your friend.

“hey, utahime.”

“(y/n), my baby! how are you?”

“i’m okay-ish, how about you?”

“i’m good, but what’s up?”

“well… can i come over? i’ll tell you there. i just need to get out.”

“of course you can! you were always here before that thing of a man took you over.”

“all right, i’ll be there in ten!”

──

utahime’s home always brought you comfort; it’s where you go when you needed to escape. due to her dislike for people outside her circle, not everyone knows of her address— especially not satoru.

she engulfed you in a hug the moment she opened the door. you can’t hide anything from utahime, she knew you were out of it from your face.

“i’ll put ramen on the stove, go make yourself comfortable,” she ordered, closing the door behind you.

you followed her words, throwing yourself face first on her sofa. you loudly groaned, annoyed at the idea of saori getting all touchy-touchy with your satoru.

“let’s talk about it,” utahime speaks, pausing the television before she sits on the floor next to you.

you lift your head to look at her, open your mouth, and close it back. ‘let’s not question it,’ you think, knowing that utahime prefers the floor at home ever since you knew her.

“so… there’s this girl named saori—”

“i knew i should’ve ran over satoru yesterday.”

“and then— wait— HUH???” you sputtered, shocked at utahime’s words.

“i saw him crossing the street by himself yesterday. it took a lot of convincing to not floor the gas pedal,” she sighed, knowing she missed the jackpot. “anyway, continue.”

your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds before you regain yourself.

“right… anyway. she’s satoru’s new co-worker and i don’t like her. on our first meeting she called me ‘satoru’s bitch’ and after that she’s been occupying his free time every-fucking-day. she has a BOYFRIEND! like damn bitch! move away from my boyfriend,” you dumped the information on utahime, shoving your head back into the cushion.

“my baby, just said the word,” utahime faces you, moving her hand to pat your back.

“for what?” your voice comes out muffled.

“to put a bounty on their heads.”

a groan leaves you. there’s no hope.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. we can devise a plan, however.”

your head perks up. your attention has been successfully gained. utahime stands up, a bright smile adorns her face. you have a major feeling that something mischievous is going to play out real, real soon. utahime never smiles so brightly unless she’s plotting something despicable.

you squint your eyes at her, watching her back as she walks to the kitchen.

“‘hime…”

“don’t worry; just trust me.”

6:43 p.m: you’re now being a sack of potatoes on utahime’s bed. the day flew by and you haven’t heard from satoru ever since he left. no way it won’t leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t find the energy to care at this moment.

you're preoccupied on utahime’s laptop, carefully choosing the perfect inner-walls design for the house game you stumbled upon. interior design might just be your new job.

deep into the game, your phone rings. you groan in annoyance, picking your phone up to see who decided it’ll be a good time to bother you.

satoru is calling you.

clicking your tongue, you slid on the green button.

“satoru, what’s up?”

“babe, are you home?”

“i’m not, why?”

“whyyyyy? i brought food for you.”

“i’ll have it when i’m home. sorry i’m not there right now, satoru.”

“oh, i almost forgot. saori’s here too.”

“ew— i mean, okay. don’t let her near my stuff nor our room.”

“yeah, bye baby. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

“that’s so disgusting. get out of my house,” utahime voices her feelings, screwing her face up at the sight of you being lovey-dovey with satoru.

you laughed at her, returning your attention to the game. utahime walks to her closet, choosing an outfit for the night. she’s fresh out of the shower, wet hair wrapped up in a towel. you can hear her grumbling something along the lines of “i hate couples” as she threw clothes on the floor to look for “that one black pajama shorts.”

once successful, utahime threw herself onto the bed. she took over your phone, going into your messages for her chat to send herself photos you’ve long forgotten to send. never will she ever ask you for photos after the hangout.

“by the way,” she says, “what did that man call for?”

you sigh, looking at her with a blank expression, “saori’s gonna be there.”

“does she even have her own life? that saowhore or whatever you said her name is.” utahime rolls her eyes, her mood immediately soured.

shrugging, you click your tongue, “it is what it is. this game is more important.”

──

it took not one, not two, not three, but five attempts to convince utahime to let you go home. she was completely against the idea of letting you drive home alone when it’s 10 p.m.

you would’ve given in if it wasn’t for the dreadful feeling that you need to be home. you basically sped through the roads, and most definitely ran a red light accidentally. nevertheless, you arrived safely.

suddenly, your heartbeat races. a heat creeps up the back of your head; you can feel a headache in the making. something’s telling you that you’ll need to confront a certain someone.

opening the door as quietly as you can, you stepped in, removing your shoes and tiptoeing inside.

maybe you should’ve let utahime go through with her plans.

the sight before you disgusts you as much as satoru disgusts utahime. why, just why, is this woman still here? is she crazy? why are her legs on satoru, and why is he allowing it?

“goodness, if i didn’t know better i’d ask you if you’re homeless,” you sarcastically spoke, taking the remote to turn the television off.

“get,” you took hold of one of her legs, shoving it off satoru. “off my fucking boyfriend.”

satoru watches, shocked at the scene. his eyes are unfocused; it’s evident that he zoned out a long time ago.

saori scoffs, moving her leg back on satoru’s lap. “why should i?”

you tilt your head, smiling angelically. the smile lasted milliseconds before it dropped. you’ve had quite enough and she’ll be subjected to your anger.

grabbing her arm, you roughly dragged her off the sofa. saori wasn’t one to accept such treatment. she retaliated, shuffling her arm around until she’s off your grip.

“are you fucking crazy?!” saori yelled, eyes wide with heavy breaths.

“not quite!” you pointed towards the door. “get out before i drag you myself.”

satoru’s silent. afraid of angering you, he stays put and watches from a distance.

“fuck off,” saori speaks, “satoru, text me when you’re off your dog collar.”

your anger reached its peak. grabbing the closest thing, which happened to be a mug, you threw it in her direction, aiming to miss her but hit close enough to her.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?” saori’s stumbles to the side, clenching her jaw, looking down at the broken pieces of the ceramic mug.

the scene alarms satoru, he decides to do something. standing up, he reaches for your wrist, pulling you to him.

“i think it’s time you leave, saori. i didn’t even know you were still here,” satoru’s voice is calm, but filled with authority. his words hold truth to them, he zoned out a while ago, unaware that saori’s still around.

clicking her tongue, her eyes twitch. she couldn’t muster up anything to say. being left with no choice but to listen to satoru, she saw herself out.

the quietness settles in. you were right about the headache, it’s definitely coming in.

“baby—”

“save it,” you stopped him, “but who the fuck is she to think i have you on a dog collar? i’ll put her on a collar.”

guilt settles in satoru, he shouldn’t have brought her in.

“i don’t why she said that. you don’t have me ‘on a dog collar’ i swear,” he rambles, placing a hand on his chest.

your gaze settled on satoru. you’re tired, a headache is there, and you probably went overboard. you’re not in the mood to hear him.

“satoru, i trust you. but i don’t trust her.”

“i’ll make her apologize.”

“ew, no.” you shivered at the thought of her apologizing. “i don’t want you near her anymore. her intentions are too fucking obvious.”

satoru physically hesitates. swallowing a gulp, his words come out quietly, “i can’t ignore her just like that..”

just as you were about to walk away, your head whipped to satoru as if you were slapped in that direction.

“what?”

“the project’s still ongoing, baby. i can’t ignore her just because you want me too.”

“fucking hell. kiss my ass, satoru. kiss her ass too while you’re at it,” you spat, flipping him off as you walked away.

if he can’t ignore her “just because you said so” then he can be ignored by you. maybe he did said something to make her think he’s on a dog collar.

you hear satoru calling for you, but you gave him no attention. you’ll deal with it tomorrow.

four › satoru’s new piercing idea: a bullet through his head.

satoru fucked up. he knows he fucked up. he should’ve said that after you calmed down. it couldn’t have gotten worse than this. the night flew by with you facing your back to him, the morning came with you acting as if he’s invisible.

sure, he fucked up, but at least reply to his good morning?!

he doesn’t know what to do. this is the first time you were angered to this point. usually, he’d be the one to better your mood, but he’s apart of the reason you’re as mad as you are.

your behavior went on for three days. far longer than satoru had anticipated. he’s given you your space, but now he can’t focus on his job.

his co-workers knew something was off with satoru. he’s not his usual self. they knew something happened the moment he declined a free meal. secretly, they gathered around, holding a confidential meeting to discuss satoru’s behavior.

everyone gave their opinions until an agreement was made: a couple’s argument had occurred.

evidence to support? satoru refrained from mentioning you, gave awkward answers when someone asked about you, and sulked when he looked at his lockscreen which was you.

saori, however, advanced her advancements to satoru. today was another day of her throwing her cleavage at him.

the photoshoot theme included two persons, but they weren’t meant to touch. they needed to act like enemies, but saori’s touching satoru as if he’s an all-you-can-touch event.

her hands slid down his chest, stopping at his abs. satoru doesn’t react— his eyes are empty, it’s clear that he wants the photoshoot to be over.

mia observed the two ever since the business trip, and she came to the conclusion that saori’s craving a place she was never meant to have.

“well aren’t you a little handsy, miss saori,” mia calls out, stopping the cameraman. “had i not known your boyfriend, i would've thought you were single.”

“who asked?” saori gives an attitude, but she moves her hand from satoru. the mention of her boyfriend bothered her.

the staff goes silent. a tension forms in the atmosphere. the calm before the storm, as they call it.

mia walks towards the two, placing a hand on saori’s shoulder when she nears her.

squeezing her shoulder, she leans down to saori’s level, “who’s the boss here? you’re chatty for a little girl who wants others’ belongings.” mia taunts, her voice cold.

saori gulps, slapping mia’s hand off her.

the action doesn’t bother mia in the slightest. instead, she leans to saori’s ears, whispering the unfortunate truth to her, “satoru will never want you, saori. remember that.”

straightening her posture, mia turns around to walk back to her designated position.

“back to work, everyone!”

with her order, everyone returns back to their previous doings. the tension is still heavy, and satoru’s still holds his empty gaze.

──

a thirty-minute break was called. at this moment, to each their own. the staff scrambled around, but satoru stayed put.

“saori,” his voice drags, “let’s talk alone.”

her expression brightens, feeling the butterflies tingle in her stomach. but little does she know, satoru’s about to act out of the character she knows him to be.

“s-sure! let’s do it in your dressing room,” she suggests, pulling satoru there.

once they’re in, she locks the door behind them. satoru sighs at the sight, but he doesn’t say anything about it. there’s something else he came here for.

“saori, do you like me? romantically?” he asks, leaning on the wall with crossed arms.

“i do,” she boldly confirms.

“then stop. you’re getting in between my relationship with (y/n),” he glares at saori, deciding it’s time to draw the line.

“ha, you’re still on that leash i see,” she scoffs, walking towards satoru until they’re face-to-face. “i’m better, satoru. you should choose me.”

satoru unfolds his arms, using one to push her away.

“saori, i’ve thought of you as nothing but a co-worker, a friend. you cannot be (y/n). so please, stop.”

clenching her jaw, saori tugs at satoru’s shirt’s collar, “i don’t give a flying fuck! you should be mine.”

satoru feels disgusted, a chain of chills cover his body. has saori always been like this?

“you have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake!” he slaps her hand away, moving towards the door.

before he unlocks the door, he stops, turning around to clarify something before he forgets to, “oh, and if anything, the truth is that i’m the one who placed a dog collar on myself. so watch your mouth.”

with that, he leaves her alone, walking to where mia’s positioned.

“mia,” he calls for her.

mia turns to him, eyes wide for a second before she returns to her usual expression.

“need something, lovesick boy?” she teases, raising her eyebrows at him.

“if saori isn’t withdrawn from this project, then i’ll withdraw myself,” he threatens, running a hand through his hair exposing his forehead.

‘i’m not sure if this is unexpected or expected,’ mia thinks, not surprised at satoru’s request. it was only a matter of time.

“i’ll withdraw her. she pissed me off, too,” giving satoru her answer she pauses, and then continues, “but you really need to learn how to tell apart platonic actions from romantic.”

satoru cringes at her words, “ugh, leave me alone. i’m leaving.”

“you’ll be penalized for leaving during working hours!”

“blah blah blah.”

──

satoru’s destination was obvious. it’s your shared home. he would make his business to break the ice first.

messily unlocking the door, he kicks his shoes off, immediately looking for you. you’re not on the sofa, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, where the fuck are you?!

checking off your usual spots, he’s left with one: the bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he peeks in, observing the room for you. once he found you, he tiptoed in.

your back was turned to the door. whether you were sleeping or not was the least of his problems. he’ll wake you up if he has to.

“baby,” he carefully speaks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on your blanketed figure.

you don’t answer him, but you do turn around to face him.

“i talked to saori. we won’t be in contact any time soon.”

“oh wow,” you said.

he clears his throat at your sarcasm, “ahem— anyway, i told her off, and asked for her to be removed from the project.”

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

ignoring your snarky remarks, he continues, “i told her about the ‘dog collar’ comment. i even told her to watch her mouth. i’ll cut contact with her on my phone, too.”

“so she’s gone? completely?” you questioned, removing a hand from under the blanket.

“yeah, i received a divine revelation and came to my senses. really, i thought she saw me as platonic as i saw her. i swear!” he confirms his innocence, staring at you with sadden eyes.

“you’re still a bitch,” you said, “i almost allowed utahime to go through with her bounty plan.”

sitting up, you took one of satoru’s fingers in your hand, “i’m glad you did that, but i’m still mad. you made me want to tell you to go fuck her and done with it.”

satoru’s mouth hangs open at the newly gained information.

“i didn’t, as you can see. i still love you so such words would never be spoken.”

“‘still’ she said.”

“don’t push it.”

a laugh escapes him. not listening to your warning, he pulls you into a hug. this time, it was a hug of desperation and relief. his head’s buried in your neck, breathing in the body mist you always wear at home.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“dear god, fuck that bitch i hope she dies,” you comforted satoru, returning his hug and patting his back.

do you have an issue with satoru? no, but he did set you off when he refused to cut contact with her when you asked.

it took him quite some days to see the vision, and you’re glad he did.

hey guys 😣 if anyone’s confused about this part:

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

it simply means “what’s the difference?”

when (y/n) said she thought satoru was glued to saori, satoru responded with “she’s glued to me!”

(y/n) says “tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.” because it doesn’t matter how you pronounce it since it’s the same word. there’s no difference.

satoru was glued to saori and vice versa so what’s the difference fr

hope this helped 😜

[theycalledhimastar]

SIMON RILEY ICKS SIMON RILEY ICKS SIMON RILEY-

(Not really icks, just more weird stuff bcs this is funny)

☄. *.

Simon has like the worst acne ever around his eyebrows and nose you won't ever change my mind because I know for a fact he does little more than rinse his face with soap and water. Not even facial soap, man uses body wash or hand soap and thinks that's enough. Like he doesn't wear a nasty balaclava and eye black whenever he's out on mission.

Speaking of which, his mask stinks. Like really bad. Man is sweaty and dirty and gross and those things are not easy to clean when you're constantly busy, so they smell like sweat, dirt, and the worst kinds of bad breath. You have no clue how he wears these when they smell that rank.

Buys off-brand everything because he doesn't really care one way or another and that wouldn't be so bad, except it's literally everything. His toothpaste, shampoo, body wash, deodorant. Man literally doesn't consistently smell like any one thing because he just cannot be bothered.

Like he's loyal as hell to you, but not loyal to any kind of brand. So his smells clash and you swear that mask has made him scent blind.

Baby isn't lazy when it comes to hygiene, like he washes well, just with a new scent and brand literally every time he gets more shampoo.

He has more important things to worry about, okay? Like you.

He has really bad sense of privacy, and by that I mean he doesn't care. When it comes to you, he will literally piss with the door open and not care, even if you walk in. Or, you could be taking a shower and man will literally go in to use the toilet, brush his teeth, and then leave with the door wide open.

he doesn't see the problem, either. Like babes, we live together, may as well be comfortable, right? You're just showering, he's gonna see it all sooner or later.

not to say he doesn't respect your privacy if you tell him its important to you, he still has his private moments too, of course. Truth be told, he just likes being near you even when he's literally using the bathroom. The weirdo.

Looks like he isn't paying attention to the television when you put it on, but literally, he knows more about the show than you do and you don't even realize it. Like he doesn't miss a thing despite not even looking up at the screen.

silly goose, that's because his love language is learning absolutely everything about stuff you like so that he can talk about it with you. Except he accidentally becomes more fluent in it than you because he goes overkill. :3

*This isn't weird, but i know Simon gets grumpy when you call him cute lil nicknames (in moments that aren't serious, of course.). Like his face when you call him ridiculous nicknames (ironically), is so perfect. It's like he knows you love it. (He probably does.)

"Hey Pookie?"

... >:(

He's literally precious sometimes.

[s41l0rm00nz]

can u do a Miguel O’Hara fic where we peg n babygirl him and just spoil him 😩😩

Massage Therapy

miguel o’hara x reader

sypnosis: miguel is stressed from a long day of being spiderman and what better way to relieve that than by giving him a massage?

cw: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, pegging, miguel is babygirl (and stressed), soft dom!reader, beefy man getting a massage from his gf, afab reader, reader uses a strap, fingering (male receiving bc prep is important!!), miguel gets oiled up (i’d pay to see that irl), miguel has a praise kink that goes both ways, miguel calls reader mami bc thats hot idc., also u both speak spanish (miguel more than reader (had to use google translate 🙏 so pardon any mistakes.)), no specified looks for y/n, kinda short after care?? idk, big strong men r always submissive at heart, u guys were in the shower for a little bit, these r a lot of cw

jay i’ve been procrastinatin mb stink hope u like this xx

miguel sighed as he grabbed the spare key under his front doormat. He was sweating, his muscles ached and he couldn’t help but groan as he entered his apartment.

his mind was clouded with sleep and the intention of getting to his partner as his large frame walked towards the bathroom, already hearing running water from the shower he slipped in. the mirror was covered in steam and miguel quickly undressed.

he pulled the shower curtain back, a scream irrupted from the girl in the shower. “fuck, miguel!” she gasped, a hand was over her heart as miguel chuckled.

“lo siento, mi amor..” he grinned, cracking his back and stepping under the shower stream and sighing pleasantly. he grabbed her love handles, head handing low as the shower water rushed over him “te extrañé, mi vida.”

she hummed, giving him a soft kiss on the lips when he bent down. “i missed you too,” grabbing the soap she squirted some into her hand then took the time to rub it all over her body. “how was saving the universe?” she smiled

“día agotador. as usual. today was… more tame though.” he cracked his back before moving her under the stream and stepping back.

“jesus, miguel.” she cringed at his loud cracking. “when was the last time you had a massage?” she washed the soap off her diligently, brows furrowed as she tried to look at miguel through the water.

he sucked in his breath, the dates becoming to cluttered to remember. y/n huffed through her nose.

“you need to take better care of yourself if y’re going to be doing this spider-man stuff.” she reprimanded, clicking her tongue while her eyes narrowing at him, clearly upset from the way he was ‘taking care’ of himself.

“m’sorry.” he groaned quietly, snaking his hands around her waist. “let me help you, mi hermosa..” he soothed, washing off any left over soap on her to help get back in her good graces. his rough hands smoothed over her body with precision, gripping her ass when he was done.

y/n leaned into his touch, “one of these days i’m gunna give you a massage, hun. your knots have knots.” she could feel the stress and pain in his shoulders from where she was standing. “you deserve it,” she turned grabbed the soap and sprayed some in her hands. she roamed and mapped out his body, watching the way it glistens up his body with desire.

“i’ll keep your word for it.” he gave her a cheeky grin, fangs flashing.

you were always one to live up to your promises.

“okay, qué están haciendo?” miguel asked with a little chuckle. “i’m at your mercy, mi amor.” he was sat on the bed, no clothes on with a smirk on his face

“put your head here and relax for me, miguel.” y/n patted a singular pillow on the edge of the bed, trying not to stare at every bit of him. once he settled she grabbed the massage oil, rubbed it in her hands then began to spread it along miguel’s body.

in all his glory miguel layed in your shared bed, naked and lathered in oil. his face was smooshed into a pillow as y/n worked methodically on his back muscles. she gasped at the knots she felt under his skin.

“y’re so tense, miguel. you’ve been working so hard, hm?” every crack, push, and movement with y/n’s hands had miguel moaning with pleasure.

“joder, mami. you feel so good.” he sighed into the pillow, letting out a deep groan when she touched a specific spot. “fuck-“

“feels good doesn’t it?” her voice was sultry when she whispered in his ear, enjoying the way he shivered. “my big mans’ been working day and night. maybe i should’ve done this sooner.” she grinned, cracking a spot on his back that had him moaning loud.

“ah..-“ he moaned. “ay dios mío- yes that feels good so good, mi amor.” his voice was shaky, “that was the spot.”

“good, good..” she mumbled, her massages traveled down to his lower back to a spot she knew was sore. she pressed down and heard a good crack come out. every moan or noise he made was like singing praises to her. this was about miguel tonight.

“you know me so well, love. you’re like an angel right now-“ his voice and compliments became more broken the more he massage. “s-so good.” miguel could already feel himself becoming way less tense the more she worked. but there was still another tense spot he was starting to sport, and it was hard not to notice.

“jeez, miguel.” y/n snickered, feeling miguel up as she smoothed her hands over his back. “that good, huh?”

all miguel could do was grumble, “well-“ he sighed. “i do have an incredibly beautiful lady on top of me-“ he moaned when she massaged his shoulders. “so i’m just- responding to that.” he grinned.

“very responsive, indeed.” she teased, “want me to take care of that for you?” she smoothed her hand over his ass.

“i wouldn’t say no to that.” miguel chuckled, “love it when you take care of me like that..”

“i know you do.” she hummed.

…

“y’know..” she trailed off, grabbing the oil and dabbing some on her hand. “we haven’t filled this up in a while..” she traced and rimmed his hole, the smile on her face was almost contagious.

“you’re a tease.” miguel snorted. “but you’re right, we haven’t.” he relaxed deeply into the pillow. “makes me wonder what else will be joining us tonight..” he laugh was deep in his chest, grinning at the idea they shared.

“well, tonight is about you. wouldn’t be bad if i took care of other places then your back.” she pushed a finger in slightly before removing it.

“oh my,” he sucked in a breath. “well if the offers on the table, i would like the sound of that.” he chuckled.

“it is definitely on the table,” she peppered kissed along his back, staying in a few spots as she pushed her finger in slowly. “i need to prep you though first, okay?”

“soy todo tuyo, mami. do what you must.” his voice shook with a groan, relaxing more and more into the bed as she fingered him. he let out a deep whine as she curled one finger.

“m’gunna add another, okay?” she removed her finger and watched as his hole gaped slightly as she added oil to her middle and point. she slowly pushed into his hole again, his moans egging her on to go deeper.

she pulled out her fingers and right as they were about to escape she pushed them back in. “you’re so tight, miguel. ease up a little.” she massaged his thigh with his other hand, she fingered him slowly, moving her fingers in a beckoning motion.

“fuck- oh, cariño, te sientes tan bien.” miguel mumbled, his cock rutting slowly into the bed.

y/n snorted, pulling out slowly. she got up and went into their closet, shuffling around before finding a shoe box with plenty of things shuffling around in it. she opened it up and grabbed a particular item before stalking back towards miguel’s submissive figure. she fixed the strap-on to herself before settling back into her original position and spread his cheeks.

“this is going to hurt a little.” she mumbled into his ear, voicing soothing. “but you can take it, miguel. you always do.” she praised, rubbing oil on the strap-on then lining it up his hole. she placed soft kisses all along him as she pushed in, his breathing was heavy while his moans turned into soft whines of pain and pleasure from the depths of his throat.

once she was settled she pulled out slowly. going all the way to only the tip in then slamming in him at a medium pace in prone bone position.

he was slowly falling apart on her cock, fangs bared and claws clinging to the sheets and throaty groans unraveled from his mouth. each thrust was deep, prodding at his deepest parts. a hand was on his lower back to not only keep him in place but to hit farther, to that specific spot that had him screaming all those nights ago and it was y/n’s mission to get him to that point. she wanted to spear him on her cock like how he’s done for her. she sung praises in his ear, enjoying his pleads and fuss on how good it feels. how much he needed this. how much he loves you.

it was all sweet, y/n snaked her hand under him to toy with his cock, rubbing her thumb over the tip and using his precum to jerk him off. it was intimate, what miguel craved for.

“e-estoy cerca de correrme,” miguel stuttered out. “i’m close- so close, cariño.” his hips shook with fevor as y/n’s pace of thrust became faster.

“go ahead, mi amor.” she kissed him gently, slipping her tongue inside him as he started to come. “that’s it.” she whispered, finding joy in his moans as her thrust lackadaisically slowed. “doing so good for me, let all your stress leave.”

she let him catch his breath before pulling out. he whined at the feeling, bucking his hips deeper into the sheets. “roll over for me, love.” she kissed his shoulders gently, helping him roll over before taking off her strap-on. she made her way to the kitchen and filled a glass with water to give to him.

“that felt amazing, mi amor..” he stretched gently, sitting up against the headboard and drinking the water.

as he drunk the cooling liquid she used a warm rag to wipe wherever his cum sprayed along with the sheets, mumbling how she’ll wash them in the morning. she placed soft kisses along his back and chest, smoothing her hands over every battle scar and mumbling praises into his skin.

…

“did you enjoy yourself?” his words were soft as he pulled her close to him.

“of course i enjoyed myself, i was taking care of you.” she said in a light voice, kissing still trailing along his skin.

“mhmmm, you always know how to make me feel good.” his voice was hoarse and his hands were lazily trailing her body. “you’re simply the best.”

she grinned at his compliments. “are you trying to butter me up right now?”

“maybe, is my flattery working?”

“nope.” she chuckled. “are you aching anymore?”

“no, i feel a whole lot better actually.” he shuffled under the blankets with her, enjoying the warmth they shared. “gracias, amor mío.”

“for what?”

“por todo eso. i needed it.”

“of course, mi niño grande.”

…

“what?”

[daytaker]

The Gang Have Bath Time

Or;

Headcanons About Everybody's Bathing Routine (SFW)

Lucifer

He likes his showers either very hot or very cold. For Lucifer, bath time is efficient, precise, and quick; not a drop of water is wasted. His showers last exactly 4 minutes and 38 seconds. In that time he washes his face, shampoos, washes his body, and starts brushing his teeth. Teeth-brushing continues at the sink. There's no reason to waste the space or time between the shower and the sink.

Mammon

Mammon is the kind of guy who forgets he's in the shower because he's belting out the classics and the acoustics in the bathroom are amazing. He never takes less than ten minutes in the shower, and he usually takes over fifteen. He likes hot showers and sometimes just stands under the water enjoying himself for the first five minutes he's in there. He also takes his sweet time after showering to do other important things before he leaves the bathroom, like putting on that face cream Asmo gave him or making funny faces in the mirror.

Leviathan

Levi prefers baths to showers. He likes to get fully immersed in the water. How can you really feel clean otherwise? He isn't picky about the water temperature, though he prefers it not to be especially hot. He sometimes hums or has quiet, one-sided conversations while he's bathing. He often gets distracted daydreaming in the tub, but if anyone knocks and yells at him for taking too long, he'll step on the gas and be out in less than three minutes, glaring daggers at whoever was waiting.

Satan

Satan doesn't like showering, so he does it quickly and not always very thoroughly. Get in, get wet, something something soap, get out. He hates the feeling of having wet hair so much that he let Asmo blow dry it once. (Only once. He didn't make that mistake again.) If he thinks he can get away with skipping a shower, he will.

When he was newly created, he refused to bathe. He would not do it. That looks like it sucks. No thanks. So all of his brothers besides Lucifer and Asmo went on strike and stopped bathing until he couldn't stand it anymore and hopped in a shower. Now he understands why it's necessary.

Asmodeus

Asmo, obviously, spends the most time in the bathroom by a pretty huge margin. Since he has his own bathroom, this doesn't cause problems with his brothers, so he'll spend upwards of an hour luxuriating in a rosewater bath and applying a whole cabinet of skincare products. Not because his skin isn't flawless, but you know what they say: an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of Botox. He's extremely thorough in how he cleans himself, and if you're curious, you can ask him, and he'll give you a blow-by-blow description of the entire process, lingering lovingly on each body part.

Beelzebub

Beel thinks showers are fine, but if he was left to himself, he'd definitely forget to take them half the time. Belphie or Lucifer usually remind him when it's time he needs to shower, then he goes and does it without a complaint.

Beel likes relatively cool showers, and he doesn't spend any unnecessary time in the bathroom. Sometimes he'll forget to shampoo, but who cares, right?

Belphegor

Belphie is very ambivalent about bathing. He's annoyed when he has to do it, but when he does, he'll hole up in the bathroom for an hour and soak in the tub. About 4 out of 5 times, he'll fall asleep, which frustrates Beel because that's how people drown, Belphie. He likes nice, warm baths best, but sometimes he'll take a hot shower when he needs to feel more awake.

Diavolo

Diavolo sings in the shower, loudly and not particularly well. It's a few precious minutes he has to relax over the course of a very stressful day of putting everyone else's needs above his own. His showers would be unbearably hot even for most demons, but for him, they're the perfect temperature to unwind. He doesn't dawdle, but he doesn't force himself to move too quickly either. He appreciates how to most effectively use his time, and a few extra minutes in the bathroom each morning can keep him alive for an extra half hour of work in the evening.

Barbatos

Barbatos is always immaculately clean, but has never been seen to bathe. Scholars are not quite sure how he does it.

Solomon

Solomon forgets to shower fairly often, since he gets distracted by much more important things, like testing out a new incantation or experimenting in the kitchen. He prefers a quick cleanliness spell to a full shower if he thinks he can get away with it, but it's a little like skipping a shower and just applying deodorant; it helps, but how much, really? When he does take a conventional shower, he likes the water to be cool.

Simeon

Simeon showers at the same time every night. He likes the water to be nice and warm, but not hot, and he uses fruit-scented soap and shampoo. His showers take just about five minutes, and he spends the time humming to himself and planning the next day.

Luke

Luke would like you to know that he takes showers, not baths, thank you very much, because he is not a child, but a thousand-year-old celestial entity with enough dignity to clean himself without a rubber ducky by his side. (Doth he protest too much? Probably.)

[matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl]

Safe - John Wick x Fem!Reader

Summary: John comes home from work and he is wounded, and as his worried wife, you help him.

Warnings: swearing, oral m!receiving, blood/gore, talk of violence, mainly fluff.

Enjoy!

You sit alone in your large kitchen, biting your nails and shaking your leg as you anxiously wait for your husband to come home.

His profession was extremely dangerous. Every time he went out you didn’t know if he was alive. Whenever you heard a car pass by your house, you wondered if it were the police coming to inform you that your husband had passed.

You knew that you had to make certain sacrifices that came with being married to The John Wick, the Boogie Man, as they call him.

You hear the door unlock, and your breath hitched. Running to the door, you are met with John. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding back tears as you nuzzle your face into the crook of us neck. “Oh, John…”

His hands weakily wrap around your waist. “Y/N…” he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.

Your hand trails down the chest of his suit. You find the red substance of blood on his white shirt. “You were shot?”

“Stabbed,” he says. “Not too bad. I’ve been though worse,”

You sigh. “Yeah, just stabbed.” You say sarcastically. “What if next time you get stabbed even worse, or shot, and you don’t make it through?” You question.

John gives you a saddened look. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You have a right to be mad, and worried.”

You give him an angered gaze, but it slowly fades as you hear the sincerity in his voice. You lean up to kiss him. “You’re right,” you say.

You take him to the kitchen where you strip him of his suit jacket and button up shirt. “This is going to sting,” you say. “I know,” he replies.

The wound was shallow, but it was still gushing a fair amount of blood. Once you were able to slow down the bleeding, you begin to clean it. John lightly hisses as you disinfect his wound.

You quickly bandage it neatly, then reward him with a warm kiss on his lips. “You have to stop this, John,”

“I know,” he says again. “I- I can retire, if you want.”

“Will you really do that for me?”

“Of course, baby. You are more important than work.”

You smile softly. “If you think it’s the best, then you can. I will support whatever you do,” you say. “Will you be safe?” You ask.

“We are safe. We will always be safe.”

“No, will you be safe?”

John pauses for a concerning amount of time. “I will be safe.” He says. “And if anybody comes after you, or me, I will kill them.”

“John,” you say like a disappointed mother. But, you couldn’t help but smile. You loved your mass murderer husband.

“That’s the spirit, love,” he smiles and gives you a kiss.

“You should go wash up,” you tell him. His face was cut, as well as his hair slicked back with sweat.

“Join me?”

“Very funny,” you laugh before sending him up to the bathroom to clean off the sins of the night. “Be mindful of your bandages,”

“Yes, ma’am,” John chuckled.

John finds his way to the master bathroom. He strips the rest of his clothes and got into the shower. His bandage inevitably got wet.

He ran his hands through his hair, feeling as the heterogeneous mixture of sweat, styling gel and water ran down his back. It felt so releiving to wash himself of the stress and torment of his job.

He used a musky scented soap to wash off the sweat and grime he had accumulated through the night. He exited the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist before redressing his wound.

John left the bathroom, towel still lazily around his waist. You were in bed, reading a book as you awaited for your husband to join you.

You couldn’t help but look at his chiseled abs and cutting hip bones. Of course, you also couldn’t ignore his broad shoulders and tattoo covered back.

“Y/N. You’re starring,”

“Oh,” you say. “Sorry,” you laugh, and he smirks. “Is it such a crime to appreciate my husbands body?”

“No. Just funny to call you out on it,” he says. He grabs a pair of sweatpants and slipped them on.

“Come lay down, babe,” you pull back the comforter in the empty space for him to fill. He slowly lays down, and he groans as his aching back hits the bed.

“Are you really going to retire?” You ask as your hand gently rests on his chest. You slowly draw circles on his skin, avoiding any bruised areas.

“Anything for you,”

You smile, and he slowly leans in to connect your lips in a gently kiss. “I will love you forever…” he murmurs agaisnt your lips. “I will love you when I’m below the ground, and I will love you after the earth ceases to exist…”

You rest your forehead against his, shakily sighing. “I love you, too. Always and forever…”

John kisses you again, hungerly needing your touch and presence against his skin. He gently grips your hair as he hums against your soft, pillowy lips.

His hand reaches for your waist, pulling your laying body closer to his. He squeezes your flesh though your sleep shirt. You whine at the tight squeeze.

Johns lips trail off yours, adventuring down your jaw to suck hot sores on your neck. His hand on your waist moves up, dangerously close to your chest. He cups your breast with his sore and bruised hands through your shirt, gently massaging it in his palm. He knew just how to make you fold.

“John-“ you whisper.

“What, love?”

“Not tonight. You need to heal.” You tell him.

He rests his head on your shoulder, sighing softly. “You’re right,” he whispers. “It’s just so hard to keep my hands off you.” He glances down at his lap, seeing the tent growing in his sweatpants.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, baby?” You reply.

“I- um. I know you said I have to heal. But, what am I supposed to do about that?” He asks, moving away from the crook of your neck to show the erection in his pants.

You think for a moment, keeping your eyes fixated on his bulge. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t use my hands or my mouth on you,” you tell him, and he grins.

You reach for the waistband of his sweatpants, slowly pulling them off his thighs. Johns cock springs out from his pants. He was hard and throbbing just by touching your breasts.

You grasp his length. His breath hitched at the sight of your hand around his dick. You slowly begin stroking him. You hover above him, letting a string of spit slowly dripping down onto his tip.

“Oh-“ he mumbled as the warm liquid touches his pulsating crown.

You gently kiss the tip, your hand still stroking his shaft slowly.

“Y/N…”

You whimper against his cock at the sound of his voice. You knew you had to resist him. You couldn’t risk opening his wound and causing him any pain. Hopefully an orgasm would help his aching body in some way.

You slowly take in his length. You suck the tip, humming at the salty taste of his pre-cum. You knew he wasn’t going to last too long. He never lasted long when you sucked him off.

“Just like that, baby,” he praised, “don’t stop- fuck. Don’t stop-“

You didn’t stop, and you weren’t going to stop until you pleasured him to your full ability.

You take in more of his cock. John shivered at the sight of his erection engulfed in your mouth.

“I’m close- shit. I’m gonna cum. Fuck.” He moans.

You began sucking him faster. You felt as your lips glided over the thriving veins on his cock, but always focusing on the tip. He loved it when you toyed with his tip.

His hips shudder, causing you to gag. “Sorry, baby,” he quickly says. You don’t reply, gagging again. You didn’t care if you gagged on his cock. You loved it, because you knew that you were doing good.

His hips jerk up again. He grips your hair, moaning your name as you quickly and steadily suck his cock. He began chasing his release.

“Fuck!” He moans. His eyes roll back, head hitting the pillow as his cum shoots into your mouth. You always loved the taste of his cum.

You finish him off with your hand, swallowing all his arousal as you did. Cum continued to shoot out, going all over your hand as he bucked his hips into your palm.

You happily licked it off, humming at the salty, yet at the same time, sweet taste.

“Fuck. Thank you, baby…” he whispers. The pleasure helped ease some of his pain.

“Anything for you,” you smile. You kiss him, and he tastes his own cum off your lips.

“Can I return the favour?” He asks, toying with the elastic band of your sleep shorts.

You shake your head. “Not tonight. You can in the morning once you have some rest,” you tell him. He frowns, but obeys.

“Okay,” John says. He fixes his sweatpants, and you grab a tissue off the night stand to wipe the spit and cum off your hand, and a bit of the white fluid that got on his stomach. John reachs over to turn off the bedside lamp, groaning as his body was strained to make the reach.

“Goodnight, baby…” you lay your head on his chest, yet again mindful of the bruises and cuts.

“Goodnight. I love you…” John whispers

“I love you too…”

[sarawritestories]

Look Up at the Stars

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Your refusal to take care of yourself while Cassian is away has your friends worried that you're being too hard on yourself. And tell the General as much so he forces you to slow down and reminds you why self care is important.

Dedicated to @milswrites and @lady-of-tearshed who are always scolding me to take care of myself.

Content warning: overworking, not taking care of yourself,

Cassian landed on the balcony of your shared home where he was surprised to see your two dear friends, Milly and Eve, waiting for him. Brows furrowed as he noticed your evident absence.

"She's doing it again." Eve clipped, sipping her tea. "She won't listen." Cassian let out a sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Milly rose from her chair and gripped his arm, "She's been in the library at the House of Wind for days Rhysand, even when he has given her explicit orders have not gotten her out of there." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and Cassian instinctively placed his hand on top of hers.

"You two are good friends, you know that, right? She is lucky to have you both."

Eve smiled, "We're lucky to have her. Now go get her, bring her home."

Before the General moved, he smiled, "Will you two do something for me before you go?" The two females smirked deviously as Cassian began to tell him his idea.

✨️✨️✨️

Guilt laced your whole body. You had yet to turn in those reports you promised Rhys a week ago. What good were you in his court if you couldn't even reach the deadlines you placed for yourself. Worst than that when you saw him last, he only looked worried for you. Was livid when you ignored his direct order to go home. One look into your pleading eyes had him back off and leave with an exasperated sigh and you knew Cassian would hear about it.

The gold thread tying you to your mate was still blocked on his end, meaning that he was still away maybe you would be able to still fin-

"Someone has been busy while I was away." The low timbre of Cassian's voice elicited tears from your eyes. It had been a few months since you saw him last. Turning around, his hazel eyes were bright, and a beard had grown in since he left, and the sight of him alone caused heat to grow in your belly. "Hello, Sweetheart."

You dropped everything and leaped into his arms. He held you close, opening the bond to let his love flood your system. "I missed you." You held him tighter, "I thought you were still away."

"Rhysand wrote to me. He had concerns. Milly and Eve expressed those same concerns when I got home." You pulled away to meet his loving gaze only to find worry there.

"Work comes fir-

"You come first. Always." Cassian's tone was clipped. "In my life, you are my number one priority. You should be making time for yourself, too."

Heat rose to your cheeks. You knew he was right. You two had argued over this multiple times before. "But I-

Cassian interrupted you once more, only this time he sealed his lips to your own. You hummed, not remotely bothered by the beard scratching against your skin. He pulled away, and you pressed your forehead to his own, taking in his scent or the fact he still held you in his arms. "I'm not listening to you being stubborn. We can argue over your work habits another day. I missed my mate. So we're going home. Understand?" You nodded as your eyes fluttered close. "Good." He turned and you watched the stack of papers become smaller as he walked out of the library.

✨️✨️✨️

You walked out of the bathroom post shower and into the shared bedroom where Cassian was out of his leathers and into a black t-shirt and lounge pants. He looked so handsome you forgot these last few months how beautiful he truly was. "Feel better?" He asked, quirking a brow as he met your gaze.

You did feel better to be clean. Cassian had set out his favorite nightgown of yours; red silk and had a bath set up with your favorite soaps and salts. "I feel like me again."

Cassian walked over and kissed your lips. "Good." His wings blocked the view of the balcony, as they were splayed wide. "I have a surprise for you." He held up a blind fold, and you raised an eyebrow. "Not that," though he got low, your noses were touches, "You and I are off for the next two weeks. That's plenty of time to make sure my mate is properly fucked." He winked and your heart sputtered.

Cassian placed the blindfold over your eyes and led you to his desired destination. Your feet hit cold concrete, and the summer breeze of the night air tickled your skin. Cassian removed the blindfold, and you gasped. Your balcony had a mountain of blankets, pillows, and your favorite snacks. Movement in the sky caught your eye as a shooting star flew across the sky. Then another. "There are supposed to be a cluster of falling stars tonight. Watch them with me?"

You turned to the male, smile wide, and your hand cupped his cheek. "Of course! I don't know what to say except." You kissed him, "I fall deeper in love with you, with every day that passes."

"Me too, Sweetheart." He kissed your forehead, "My beautiful, stubborn, hardworking mate." He kissed your nose, and you giggled and Cassian's eyes lit up at the sound.

✨️✨️✨️

You spent the whole evening looking up at the Stars, your head on Cassian's chest as he rubbed circles on your back. He chuckled as you kept pointing to ever fallen star you saw. His smile grew when you moved to your own pillow, your hand finding his, as you looked to the sky in awe.

Cassian could care less about the stars in the sky. Your smile was what lit up Cassian's world.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Teaser ➤ You’re cute but so dumb <3

Word count › 1.4k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › dumbification, degradation

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

Yubin was obsessed to say the least. The volleyball continued to be spiked across the room by the over powerful and overachieving athletes of his school. It was only a practice game, he wasn’t sure why they tried so hard.

What mainly caught his attention was (Name).

(Name) was cute, to say the least. Pretty doe eyes and way more buff than the average senior should be but he didn’t care. It’s what he thought added to his charms.

“(Name)! Pay attention!” One of his teammates cried. (Name) flashed his signature puppy-like smile and muttered out an apology.

Yubin was sure his cock twitched. Yeah, he was a massive pervert but he’s gotten used to that. Even his friend, Bora had to get used to it.

“Uh, hide it, you pervert.” She groaned, subtly hiding him from anyone that paid them any mind.

No one usually did. They were outcasts and seen as none important but Yubin used that to his advantage. He could slink around whenever he wanted and no one, not even his teachers, noticed his absences.

A yelp caught his attention as he glanced back towards the ongoing game to see (Name) on his back, his shirt ridden up and showing a peek at his soft abs.

His nipples!!!

Yubin was sure he was blushing red. (Name)’s friend was quick to pull his shirt back down and help him up, asking if he was alright.

Bora rolled her eyes, “not sure how he’s a player if he’s so clumsy.”

“That’s just his charm….”

“Ew.”

𝄞

P.E. ended faster than Yubin wanted to. He and Bora stayed longer than the other kids to help clean up as school was over. It took longer than expected but when he was finished—he was ready to just go home.

But it seemed luck was on his side as the shower room was being used. And by the locker that was still open, it’s was (Name).

A smirk appeared on Yubin’s lips. A peak… A peak wouldn’t hurt. He slipped off his shoes and socks to make as little noise as possible, walking over to the shower room. The sound of water hitting skin confirmed that at least someone was in there.

He prayed it would be (Name) and not some ran-do. And to his luck once more, it was. (Name)’s tanned skin was drenched as he washed off any soap left from his body. His hair was drenched as well, sticking to his forehead as he held his head under the faucet.

This was better than any wet dream he had. Yubin glanced down to get a glance at (Name)’s snatched waist and….

Fucking bubble butt of an ass!!

He sighed in content, gasping once he realized he made a sound. (Name) shrieked and turned around to see who was it only to slip on… nothing? And fall to his ass.

Yubin cursed. Yeah, he was unabashedly a pervert but he didn’t want his soon-to-be lover know that!

“Sor—” he opened his mouth to say only to stop himself.

(Name) was sexy.

Too sexy.

(Name) covered his chest as if he was a girl in an anime, a pout on his plump lips. His doe eyes stared up at Yubin as if he was a big bad wolf coming to eat him. It was just the sound of the running water as Yubin gulped.

He was hard.

Yubin parted his lips to speak but only noticed that (Name) was desperately keeping his legs closed tightly. As if he didn’t want him to get any sort of glance at his cock.

Which, obviously, made sense but what was there to be self-conscious about? (Name) was one of the most sought out boys in their grade. If anything, Yubin expected him to flaunt his looks.

Seeing him like this, Yubin realized (Name) wasn’t a puppy.

He was a poor little sheep.

And he was a perverted wolf.

A bit cringy in his mind but hey, he’s very horny.

“Yubin….” He knew his name? “I thought you didn’t take showers at school…” (Name)’s voice sounded cuter than normal.

God, why didn’t he always sound like this?

Yubin pursed his lips. He might as well be honest. “I wanted to see you naked.”

(Name) meeped in shock, looking away in embarrassment. Yubin felt a sudden grow in confidence as he joined (Name) in the shower stall, not caring at that water drenching him.

He was a pervert through and through. And this was his one chance to see his crush in his full glory.

“You’re cuter than any wet dreams,” he whispered in (Name)’s ear, leaning down to get a proper look at his face. (Name) continued to cover his chest, boobs really, and jutted out his bottom lip.

Yubin reached over and pulled at his lower lip, smirking at the gasp he earned from the boy. He knew (Name) could leave. Use his strength to push off the twig that Yubin was and go call someone to arrest or expel him.

But he stayed there, watching Yubin’s every move as he trailed one finger down his warm skin, grasping one his arms that covered his chest. And he pulled.

And (Name) allowed him to move his arm. His nipples were perked up and with shallow breathing, he looked away. (Name) was confused with himself for allowing him to do this.

Was he touched starved? Was he just horny?

It was all so confusing but a tug at his nipple caused him to whimper. Yubin grinned, his long sticking to his skin as well as his clothes. He was a bit stupid for not just turning off the shower.

But this was hotter.

Yubin trailed his hand down (Name)’s body, a wide smile on his lips. Ah, this must be a dream.

Once he reached (Name)’s muscular thighs, he placed his other hand on them. He moved to open them but was stopped by (Name).

“What?”

“Don’t look….” (Name) muttered, a pout on his lips.

Mm, pouts must’ve been a permanent feature for his face. Yubin simply laughed and stood up, pulling down his gym shorts and boxers to reveal his cock.

“Is it fine if I show mines?” He asked, a bit shocked at himself at being so bold. Yeah, his horniness was getting the best of him.

(Name) looked shock to say the least. Despite being a guy on the smaller side, especially compared to him, Yubin had him out beat on his cock.

It was thick and long, hanging right in front of (Name). Yubin hummed, reaching over to grasp (Name)’s head and bringing it closer to his cock.

“If I can’t see yours, suck mines.”

(Name) was a bit of an idiot to say the least. He could leave. All he really had to do was stand up and he’d be out the door. But he also wanted it.

“You don’t really know to think, do you?”

(Name) frowned at that. Yubin gripped his cock and used it to trace (Name)’s lips. The feeling of pre cum touched his lips as he tried to look down at the cock.

“You’re all brawn but no brains. But that’s okay, I can make the decisions for you.” Yubin grinned, enjoying the dumbed look in (Name)’s eyes.

Yeah, he can teach his little puppy, sheep(?), to obey him.

“Suck.” First trick, obedience.

(Name) hesitated but opened his mouth, choking at the cock that shoved it’s way inside. Yubin wasn’t gentle, using (Name) as if he a toy to use for his pleasure.

Yubin reached over and turned off the shower, wanting to hear every little noise that escaped (Name)’s lips. But this was public, he couldn’t do this for as long as he wanted.

The sound of the locker room door opening told him so. With one quick motion, he harshly pulled at (Name)’s thick hair, a cruel smile on his lips as he signaled for him to not say a word.

“Hey, Yubin, (Name)! Hurry up and finish your shower! I have to close the gym in fifteen minutes!” A coach said, leaving as quick as he came.

Yubin waited until he was sure he was gone until he faced (Name) again. (Name)’s lips were slicked with saliva and pre cum as his chest heaved up and down.

“So cute. I’ll see you at my house this weekend, Hm?”

“Eh?” (Name) muttered, an adorable look of shock in his face.

“My house.” Yubin grinned, a look that made him appear far more beautiful than he scarier appearance. “I’ll text you the address. 2pm, sharp.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving a confused (Name) on the floor with a hard cock twitching to cum.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

        ╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Something new!!! Tell me how you guys think! This is like a preview of a character, Choi Yubin, obsessive band nerd x himbo reader!

I have a future request that has a prompt with this type of archetype but allowed me to choose the character…. So I’m just creating one!

You can now request stuff like that too if you can’t think of a character. Just give me a archetype and plot!

I also made sure you guys felt unsatisfied with the sex just like the himbo! Stay tuned for more Yubin!! (And hopefully others!!)

(Also if you caught my kpop reference, I love u <3)

And thank you for 400 followers!!

[the-fluff-piece]

Beauty routines - theirs (if you can call it that) and how they react to yours

Law, Sanji, Zoro and Smoker are fascinated by your daily habits and share their own

Fluffy relationship headcanons.

So sfw you can show them to your parents

Zoro

His beauty routine is bathing once a week

That's it. He cannot stand more.

He likes yours though! When your shared room is filled with the delicious scent of your shower gel or when your skin smells like vanilla

Is very invested in your moisturising regime after learning that it makes your skin super soft. He needs to feel your softness.

When no one's looking he tries your stuff. It was a great day for everyone but him when he took the glitter shower soap

Law

No one knows...but his skin is so sensitive, he only uses unscented products with natural ink. Anything else and he gets red pimples

He makes a lot of his products himself, he is a doctor after all

His beard is important to him, you can watch him shave and trim almost every day

He meticulously applies lotion to his Tattoos to keep them fresh and brilliant

He is very interested in the ingredients of your products- he points out any harmful substances with annoying persistence

He is very happy to help you moisturise your body. With lots of lotion and a massage

Is so thrilled that you wear sunscreen!

Sanji

He is the master of beauty routines. His face regime has 10 steps. You can try his stuff.

He has more utensils for his beard than you have make up. He is a perfectionist. And it shows!

He is ashamed of his body hair though. He cannot reign it in and his skin is not taking kindly to shaving all the time

He does your nails now, they look great! And your eyebrows, too! He is also proficient at styling your hair. He cannot keep himself from praising you whenever he gets to take care of your body

He loves lipstick. When you apply it he cannot wait to kiss it off your lips again

Smoker

A marine soldier should always look tidy - Smoker tries to stick to that. Every morning, he carefully styles his hair to look proper and shaves with precision

Openly adores your routines and habits. He likes the diligence with which you take care of your body

Especially when you brush your hair he's staring with open interest. Whenever you do your hair or make up, you see him in the mirror behind you

Is thrilled when he can help you, like zipping up your dress or applying lotion to your body

[zikadraws]

An actual question which is pretty popular in the Splatoon fandom, how do you think lings wash themselves? Keep themselves clean. Canonically it is stated that water affects them.

Well I actually think I got a pretty good idea of this one !

I've made a little illustrated guide which pretty much summarizes it all, but here is my thought process beneath it anyways. (Long post buckle up)

So, while it's true that in my mind their ink is already taking care of most of their dirt, one can only swim into their own body fluids before it starts to reek. Especially while being a(n ink)fish. Besides, enemy ink inevitably creates irritations if not properly cleaned off at least once or twice a day. (Off The Hook advises to clean your tentacles thoroughly after a match canonically.)

Now about the water issue, the main thing to keep in mind is that it's mentioned it dissolves Inkfish, sure, but only if they are submerged in it (because ink is less dense that water). So I think that they can take water drops, although it's also mentioned (in a game dev interview) that their skin actually breaks really easily.

But they CAN clean themselves nevertheless ; they just have to follow a few rules.

-----------

Absolutely NO BATHS.

Showers only, but put on the lightest drop setting, to the point the water feels more like drizzle (the type of rain they endure the best), just enough to get them moist and allow them to get themselves clean.

(There are specially designed shower heads on the marketplace for that, although it's the norm to have a shower with multiple options. It's recommended to always test the shower when looking for a new place, and use a portable spawner for the first times to be extra secure. Also, check your water pressure before going for a shower.)

Be gentle with your skin and tentacles while cleaning. Use foamy soaps, preferably, and soft sponges. If you're too rough, you might break the skin.

Only run the water to get yourself moisturized, then to wash the soaps. Not any more than needed.

At any time, if it starts to sting, or you feel weak, cut the water and take a break. Listen to your body.

If you don't have the time to take a shower, if you're not feeling like it or simply don't have a shower, there are always specialized body wipes available anywhere in stores. Fitting different kinds of skins & tentacles, with various perfumes, they are ideal to be used between Turf Wars or for a quick groom on the go. You can even clean yourself integraly this way if you wish, but please if you must do that in public, do so in Swim Form. Be decent.

(However, keep in mind the body wipes may be somewhat cheap and required to be at least recyclable, and also a huge market/job source, they still represent a budget, and important waste. Avoid resorting to these only. Water is in most places paid for by the community.)

In any way, do not neglect your hygiene. Else you may develop irritations, itching, dry & crusty tentacles (especially in choppy tentacuts), infections if nontreated injuries, and of course bad odor, which gets pretty bad as you count as a fish. All of these can get you mocked of and ostracized, as Freshness comes from having your turf and yourself figured out and taken well care of (we like to show that off), and unlike you may think- YOUR PEERS NOTICE.

And, of course, always brush your beak and scrub your tongue at least twice a day. Bad hygiene within the beak is the least tolerable, squiddos <3

-----------

And so yeah, those are their golden rules when it comes to hygiene. As you can see, I might have gotten a little overboard with it, but I wanted to make it feel like a legit cleaning guide, as I suspect that's something that is taught thoroughly to young Inkfish.

They have various illustrated child books/notices about cleaning safety, and probably have at least one mandatory class about that when they're in elementary school or younger. Being fresh 'n shiny is pretty important, and they are taught to take care of their turf/living space and of themselves, because they need that so they can then properly show off. So they are taught how to do it properly and safely early on, and they're not kidding about that.

I mean in a social system where the store managers can straight up refuse to serve you if you're deemed not fresh enough, you've got to be a little serious when it comes to your personal figure.

Alright, I hope you enjoyed my explanation ! I had a lot of with it~ :))

(Also before I go, I just wanna add a filter I made of this same guide, to make it look like a poorly taken scientific report picture like in a Sunken Scroll, 'cause I thought it was Sunken Scroll material. Enjoy.)

(Thanks for asking, bye 🎵 =:> =:> =:>)

[makeyoumine69]

I Would Be Lost Without You (commission)

— PAIRING: Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: During a rainy day you seek comfort in the arms of your beloved.

— CONTAINS: Fluff, flirting, teasing, Daddy kink, a lot of kisses and touches, pet names, grumpy but sweet Daddy!Patrick Bateman himself.

— WORDCOUNT: 1.5k

— A/N: This is commission for my sweet @crystalrage90. I'm glad to be allowed to post it. I hope you like it!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓 [COMISSIONS] Many thanks to @linusbenjamin for her amazing gifs!

It was a typical rainy day in New York, and people were rushing through the streets, hiding under their umbrellas or trying to find shelter in nearby buildings. Even though you knew the forecast, you decided to try your luck and managed to get to Patrick's place before the rain started. Now you stood in front of the door of his apartment and cursed yourself as your damp clothes stuck to your body like a second skin.  

You frowned and took a deep breath before finally daring to ring the doorbell. When he didn't open the door after almost five minutes, you let out a tired breath, thinking that you probably deserved it and turned around to leave, but as soon as you made a step, you heard the door click and then Bateman's arrogant voice hit your ears harder than a thunderclap from outside.

"Sorry (y/n), I had an important business call—" Patrick paused as soon as he noticed your completely soaked clothes, his perfect face immediately turning angry. "Don't you know how to use the umbrella?"

"I didn't have one."

Bateman let out a tired sigh before rubbing the bridge of his nose to calm himself. "Oh yeah, what am I even thinking? Such a pointless thing to have an umbrella when it's pouring outside!" 

His mocking tone caused your small frame to shiver even more, you were already cold and his attitude only made you feel worse. You shifted from foot to foot, hugging yourself and dropping your eyes so that at least now you wouldn't have to deal with his snotty little side glances.

"Get in." He blurted out suddenly, stepping aside for you to enter this fancy apartment. "Go straight to the bathroom."

Damn, you always loved his demanding voice, but now it made you nervous. You hurried into the bathroom, not wanting to ruin his expensive wooden floor with the water running down your trembling frame. 

"Strip off and take a hot shower," Patrick added as he followed you, now standing in the doorway with his hands crossed over his chest. "And don't waste that soap again! It's from limited collection and—"

"I know, I won't!" You cut him off, removing your soaked dress. "Maybe you should join me in the shower instead of giving me endless notations?"

After saying that, you turned to give him a challenging look, expecting his mood to change, as it usually did, but this time not a single emotion appeared on his beautiful face. Neither of you wanted to break the awkward silence, but when you finally decided to say something biting, Bateman smoothed his cashmere robe and proclaimed:

"No." His cheesy grin was the last thing you wanted to see, but it was fine. "Listen, (y/n)," Patrick suddenly came closer to you, so that you even had to step back. "Just be a good girl and listen to what Daddy wants you to do, okay?"

As soon as his big, warm palm touched the cold skin of your waist, you almost flinched, but he managed to hold you still, trapping your naked little form in his big arms. 

"Will you be a good girl for me?" He whispered, his hand still roaming over your back.

You gasped and dropped your head, unable to stand the way Bateman looked at you with his savage brown eyes. 

"Yes..." You wanted to add something, but he wouldn't let you, covering your mouth with his.

Maybe the kiss was too passionate, or maybe it was just the difference in temperature of your bodies, but when you felt his hot tongue sweep along your lower lip, you squealed and grabbed his strong biceps to pull him closer.

"Shh, babydoll." He pressed a thumb to your chin, forcing you to raise your head and look straight into his eyes. "I know what you want."

Jesus Christ, this man was so skillful at testing your limits - making you whine like a little girl who couldn't get what she wanted.

"We'll come back to this later, after you take a shower." His velvety voice was the only thing that mattered at that moment, but then Patrick decided that what he had already done was not enough, so he made you open your mouth so that he could tease your tongue by sucking it really hard. "I promise you."

Bateman couldn't help but grin with satisfaction as he saw you melting under his touch, his ego was about to fly to the moon, but there was nothing you could do about it, he was just irresistible.

When he finally left you alone, you stood near the shower door for a while, trying to pull yourself together. Shivering slightly, you finally stepped under the warm water, which brought you some relief, because you really were very cold. You washed yourself very quickly, because every moment without him felt like torture. Although you couldn't be sure if his words weren't just another game of his, he got what he wanted, and now you were clean and warm as you walked in front of the mirror, looking at your reflection and running your hands over the new robe he had bought just for you.

Later you came out of the bathroom and saw him sitting on his white couch, and it seemed like he noticed you before you could even think about it.

"C'mere, honey…" Patrick purred, tapping the spot next to him. "Did you miss me already?"

You smiled to yourself at how arrogant that bastard was, but you chose to play by his rules nonetheless. "Yeah, I thought about you the whole time I was in the shower."

"Oh yeah?" He asked flirtatiously, watching you take a seat next to him.

You nodded in reply, making yourself more comfortable on the couch as you felt his hand on your shoulders.

"I hope you haven't done anything Daddy wouldn't let you do, have you?"

"Uh, what do you mean?" You darted him your most innocent glance, and you could swear you saw a bright spark in his hazel eyes.

"Awww, don't try to pretend you don't know what I mean." He chuckled, stroking your shoulder before beginning to massage the back of your neck. "Have you dared to touch what is mine?"

God, his words coaxed a loud gasp that fell from your swollen lips. 

"N-no, Daddy…" you turned away from his attentive gaze, but he suddenly made you sit on his lap so that your faces were only inches apart. "I'm not lying."

Thrilled, Bateman examined your features for a moment before gently kissing your neck, your toes curling once his pouty lips found the most sensitive spot.

"You need to drink something warm." He urged abruptly, bouncing you onto his lap. "How about I make you a hot chocolate while you pick something to watch?"

"Oh God, Patrick..." You couldn't stop yourself from giggling at how cute he was.

With a sweet smile, Patrick grabbed your ankle to rub it, but then his sneaky hand skittered up to your hip. "Sounds like a good plan for my baby girl?"

"It's even better than you can imagine." You gasped at how shamelessly Bateman stroked your leg. "You know, when I first arrived, I was really afraid you were going to punish me for ruining your expensive floor with water… you looked so angry."

Patrick couldn't stop laughing as he nuzzled against your cheek. "Relax, silly.  I was just worried about you catching a cold, we have so many plans for the weekend. It actually made me upset." He explained to you as if you were a little kid. "You don't want to be in bed with the flu, do you?"

In addition to his words, Bateman decided to tickle your toe, so you had to answer back.

"Stop, stop, stop!" You almost yelped as you couldn't stop giggling. "I'm really sorry!" He paused, expecting you to say something else. "I'll be more careful next time."

"That's a good girl." Patrick gave you a light peck on the nose before standing up, and you let out a sad gasp as you lost physical contact with him. "Sweetheart, I'm only a few feet away from you." He teased when he heard your whimper.

"Okay, okay." You watched him walk away, but then you mumbled: "Patrick..."

"Yeah?" Bateman turned around, and it was only now that you noticed his bare chest as his robe was half undone.

"I love you so much." The way you said those words made your own heart beat so fast.

Patrick just smirked and tittered to himself. "I know, (y/n). To be honest... I would be very surprised if you didn't."

With that he continued on his way to the kitchen, leaving you both embarrassed and happy. That bastard knew what he was doing, every little thing he did always made you feel butterflies in your stomach, every damn time. You laid on your back and looked at the perfect white ceiling above you, thinking how fucking lucky you were to be with the man who managed to fill your life with emotions and sensations you never thought you would experience before.

[chin-chilla-7]

Feast on this Fantasy

Wow hi guys long time no post. But I'm back because I wrote a little fic for myself and wanted to share it! This isn't from any of the fandoms I have listed on this blog since I only just recently got into it: so hello Twilight fandom, I am down bad for Daddy Carlisle so much so that I have written a fic for it. I hope you enjoy!

Title: Feast on this Fantasy Word Count: 3.1k Summary: The reader started their period the day of a date you had planned with Carlisle. You call to reschedule, only for this sweet man to offer to come over anyway to comfort you. Though, things get heated when you reveal to him a fantasy you've had on your mind. Warnings: Period Sex, Being Eaten out on your Period, Reader's Gender Neutral, Carlisle loses a little bit of control.

~~~

Your morning could have gone better. You woke up to your underwear stained with red, your period coming sooner than you anticipated. At least it explained your mood the past few days, but that didn’t make your morning bearable. You had to pause while washing the dishes, doubling over to breathe through the cramps that rippled through your uterus. “Just breathe…” you reminded yourself, gripping onto the sink a little too tightly as you waited for the cramps to pass.

As you stood in the kitchen, you considered rescheduling the date you had planned for the night. Having started your period through the night, you were sure you’d be bleeding through a tampon every couple hours with how heavy your flow is the first day. You straightened up, letting out a sigh. The cramps were enough to not want to go out, it was another thing that your partner was a vampire. ‘Vegan’ or not, he always seemed to notice when it was that time of the month for you, without you having to say anything.

You managed to finish the dishes, letting them dry in the rack. With that chore done, you grabbed your phone, dialing the number and  holding it to your ear. The phone rang twice before the other side picked up.

“Good morning, my dear.”

His voice was enough to bring a smile to your face. “Morning, Carlisle,” you answered, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Did you- is your morning going well?”

“Better now that I get to hear your voice.”

That earned a small laugh from you. If it weren’t for how icky you felt, you probably would’ve been a little more enthusiastic with your response. Carlisle seemed to notice.

“Is everything all right, darling?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah- Well, I’m fine. I just started my period, is all, so I feel… bleaugh, y’know.” It was difficult to express exactly how you were feeling, so the noise would have to suffice. “It’s why I called. I don’t- Well, I want to go on our date tonight. But the thought of going out like this is… not tonight. Another night?”

“Absolutely. I understand, my love. It’s important to get good rest during this time of the month,” Carlisle answered, ever the doctor. “If you’d like, I can still come over. Make you feel a little less… ‘bleaugh’?”

Hearing Carlisle echo the noise you expressed caused you to let out a more earnest laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be over the time we originally decided, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, love.”

“Of course, my dear. Is there anything else you needed?”

You took a moment to consider. “No, I don’t think so. That was all.”

“All right, then. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too. See you.”

Once you hung up the phone, you felt your body relax. Carlisle had this way of calming you down, even just over the phone. And while you weren’t going on a date anymore, he was still coming over to see you tonight. The thought brought a smile to your face.

Though, you still had the rest of the day ahead of you before your partner would be here for the night. Not wanting to do much, you opted to take a shower, hoping you could wash some of the  icky off. The heat from the water certainly helped soothe your cramps, and your soap helped focus your senses on something sweeter.

You felt a little better as you stepped out of the shower, taking the opportunity to brush your teeth. You also grabbed the motrin from your medicine cabinet. “Nearly empty…” you said to yourself as you took the painkiller. You’d have to get more soon. But for now, this would tide you over.

Most of the day you spent laying or sitting: doctor’s orders, you told yourself. Rest was important, especially on the first day of your period. You had put on some comfortable clothing: sweatpants and a sweater. Not exactly datewear, but you weren’t going on a date tonight anymore. And you were sure Carlisle wouldn’t mind.

You had stopped paying attention to the time, drifting in and out of sleep. It wasn’t until the knock at your  door did you find yourself awake once again. You looked over to the clock, a smile spreading on your face: he was a little early, of course.

You made your way to the front entrance, opening the door to see your handsome vampire partner on the other side. You smiled at him before noticing the bag he held in his hand. “Oh, you didn’t…” you started, a fondness still in your gaze despite the slight protest you expressed.

Carlisle simply smiled, stepping his way inside. “Of course I did,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. Usually he would continue his way inside but this time he stopped beside you, taking a deep breath as if he were breathing you in. His eyes roamed over your features, an intensity in his gaze. It only lasted for a moment before he turned his head away, making his way to the living room. “What partner would I be to not care for my love when they’re feeling icky?”

You stood at the front door for a moment, processing his behaviour. The way he looked at you had you flushing. Though, you moved on for the moment, making your way to him to see exactly what he had brought you.

You stood beside Carlisle, and you noted the way he kept his gaze down on the bag. He was fishing through it, taking out some of the items.

“I got you chocolate,” he said, setting the couple bars on the coffee table. Then his hand was back in the bag, this time taking out a bottle of pills. “Oh, and I remember last month you were running low on motrin so I picked you up another bottle.”

“Oh what-” you said in surprise, sitting down on the couch and grabbing the motrin from his hand. “This is so sweet, what the fuck.”

Your surprise caused Carlisle to smile, finally glancing your way again. “Anything to help relieve your discomfort.” He reached into the bag again. “I also picked up some tampons - I don’t know how many you have left, but I figured it doesn’t hurt to have extra. And I brought your heating pad since you left it at my house last time. I know how much you like the warmth.”

Before he could grab the pad out of the bag, you reached over to grab his wrist. “Thank you,” you started, tugging him to the couch. “But what I think I want most is to cuddle with my partner.”

Carlisle naturally moved upon your request, a smile on his features. “Of course, the perfect medicine,” he said gently, sitting beside you on the couch. You scooted closer, throwing your legs over his lap and wrapping your arms around his torso so you could  nuzzle into him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You comfortable?” he asked and you simply nodded in response, allowing your head to tuck just under his.

While this was a common position the two of you found yourself in when cuddling, you couldn’t help but notice a slight tension in the way Carlisle sat. His grip on you was a little more rigid than usual, and he seemed reluctant to rest his head on yours as he usually did. You lifted your head to look at the other. “Are you comfortable?” you asked back. Carlisle feigned a look of confusion.

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you just seem tense, is all. Was today a particularly rough day at the clinic?”

There was such a softness in Carlisle’s gaze at your question. He brought his free hand up to brush your hair out of your face and cup your cheek. “No darling, my day was fine,” he said, though it seemed there was more he wanted to say. It took him a moment to find the words. “You’re just… it’s your first day, so your smell is more… potent than I’m used to. That’s all.”

Your head tilted slightly at his answer. It explained his reaction at the door. You managed a small chuckle, a playful glint in your eye. “Oh, so your urges are getting to you,” you teased.

Your words seemed to put Carlisle at ease as he let out a chuckle of his own. “No, they’re not ‘getting to me’,” he answered, shifting in his place, “You simply smell nice. Ah, I mean, I’m not bothered by it.”

“Depends your definition of bothered.”

Carlisle held your gaze for a moment after your comment. His eyes seemed to have darkened at your implication, and yet he simply looked away and let out a small huff in disbelief. “You’re quite the minx, you know.”

A proud grin grew on your features. You took Carlisle by the chin to turn him back to face you. “You love it, though,” you hummed, leaning forward to take him into a sensual kiss. He sighed into it, his hand grabbing onto your hip as he pushed for more. But you pulled away, the grin still playing on your lips.

A slight disgruntled noise escaped past Carlisle’s lips. “Is this your plan for the night? To tease me?”

You breathed out a quick laugh. “No,” you answered simply, looking over Carlisle’s face. You brought a hand up to trace along his jaw. “We don’t have to stop at teasing.”

There was something in Carlisle’s gaze for a moment: a wanting, a needing. He looked to you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate. The hungry look in his eye stirred some heat between your legs. His eyes glanced down, almost like he noticed: maybe he did. You found yourself pulled to continue your thought.

“I’ve thought about… it’s been a fantasy of mine to… for you to eat me out while I’m on my period…”

There was part of you nervous to admit that, unsure of  how the other would respond. And, at the moment, he simply stared at you. His jaw tense and his face unreadable. You were quick to clarify. “But I know you don’t really consume blood or anything so I don’t expect it if that’s not something you-”

You weren’t able to finish because Carlisle cut you off with a kiss. This one was hungrier than the previous, and you let out a surprised whimper in response. As Carlisle kissed you, he carefully maneuvered the two of your bodies so that you were laying back on the couch. Only then did he pull away.

“Being between your legs has been the only thing on my mind since I walked through your door today. I…” he paused, pulling away slightly in reaction to his own words. You reached a hand up to cup his face. He pressed his face against your touch.

“Then let me put your mind at ease,” you assured, giving him a nod.

Carlisle let out the air in his chest, leaning back down to take you in another kiss. This one only lasted a short moment as he moved to kiss along your neck. Your sweater provided little access to your skin, but that was no problem for Carlisle: he simply moved lower quickly.

Usually, your partner took his time in giving all parts of your body attention, but you felt that he was a little excited for this. That was okay: you were excited, too.

Even with his excitement, Carlisle was still careful in removing your pants and underwear. You noticed a slight twitch in his hand now that your legs were bare: the smell even more ‘potent’, as he would say.

Before doing anything more, he looked around, reaching over to grab a few tissues from the box on your coffee table. With the tissues in hand, he then went ahead and pulled your tampon out. You squirmed in anticipation, red flushing your face. Carlisle wrapped the tampon in the tissues and placed it on the table, not wanting to take the time to properly throw it out yet: that could wait for after.

After placing the tampon down, Carlisle noticed a few stains of red on his fingers. His eyes focused on the stain, bringing his fingers up to his nose. He took in a deep breath, eyes shutting closed for a moment as he breathed out a moan. “Fuck…” he murmured under his breath.

Suddenly he was grabbing your legs and spreading them open, moving back on the couch so he  could lean down. Usually he’d say something, talk you through it, praise you. Anything. But right now it seemed his focus was purely on tasting you. You felt his tongue press against your hole, causing you to shudder from the suddenness. “Oh-” you cried out, reaching down to thread your  hand through his hair.

Carlisle, meanwhile, let out a guttural moan quickly after dipping his tongue into you. He gripped onto your legs, keeping them open as he tongue fucked you. The noises he made were messy as he feasted on your blood. You could hear him groan despite your own moans. He usually wasn’t so vocal, but this seemed to be a fantasy you both had had on your minds.

Your grip on Carlisle’s hair did little to deter him. If anything, it encouraged him further. You cried out, legs naturally wanting to close, to wrap your legs around his head, but his strength kept you from being able to do nothing but take what he was giving. Your back arched off the couch as you felt yourself quickly approaching your orgasm. “Oh fuck, Carlisle- Car- Ohhh,” you moaned, bringing an arm up to cover your eyes as you felt your body crash with waves of pleasure. You could feel the way Carlisle used his tongue to work you through your orgasm, but despite your finishing, it seemed your partner was far from done.

You felt Carlisle continue, his tongue pushing in as far as it would allow, greedily eating anything and everything he could. Your body squirmed from the constant sensation, uncovering your eyes to look down at him. He met your gaze, staring up at you intently. You could feel your face heat up at the sight, and you let out a whimper.

“Carlisle, wait, I-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence when Carlisle cut you off with a deep growl. You hadn’t heard anything like that from him before, but it made your hips twitch against his mouth. Carlisle broke your gaze as he refocused his efforts on eating you out, so all you could do was let your head fall back against the couch and squirm. Whimpers and whines escaped you as you tried to move your hips away from the onslaught of pleasure. Of course, with Carlisle, there was no getting away easy with his strength.

You already felt a second orgasm boiling in your core. You grew short of breath, reaching down to find purchase on what you could. While one hand remained in Carlisle’s hair, he took your other hand in his own. You squeezed his hand, crying out in broken sentences to try to express just how good you felt and just how close you were. It seemed Carlisle got the message  as he doubled his efforts. It was all you needed. You screamed out, back arching off the couch once again as the orgasm ripped through you. “Carlisle!” you called for him, and it seemed that now he had gotten his fill as he sat up, pulling away from you.

You stared up at your partner, taking in the way he looked with blood - your blood - stained around his mouth. It wasn’t something he seemed to notice right away as he crawled over you, leaning down for a kiss. You could taste yourself, but that didn’t bother you. You moaned softly into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him.

When he  pulled away, Carlisle finally realized the state of his face by the way your lips were now covered in blood. He reached hand  up to touch around his mouth, seeing how there was blood. He looked between his fingers and you, suddenly realizing just how he was acting. He looked to  you, nearly embarrassed.

“I may have lost myself for a moment. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

It was your turn to cut him off with a kiss. You pulled him down, kissing him sweetly. When you pulled away, there was a smile on your face.

“Don’t be sorry. That was hot,” you said, and that pulled a small laugh out of your vampire  boyfriend.

“Oh, okay, good. I, uh… well, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, sitting up straight.

“And let’s get you cleaned up, too, yeah? Unless you want to go home looking like that,” you teased, slowly sitting up yourself. Carlisle stopped you, though, grabbing a new tampon from the pack he had brought you. He took a moment to insert it: an intimate gesture.

“Yes, yes. I’ll clean, too. I can only imagine the reaction if I were to come home like this,” Carlisle agreed, shaking his head at the thought. 

“I bet Jasper would love it.”

Carlisle simply shot you a look in response.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding,” you continued, now sitting up on the couch. You weren’t able to stand up yourself because Carlisle picked you up to carry you bridal style. You hummed happily at that, nuzzling up against him as he made his way to the bathroom. “There anything I can do for you?” you then asked, only for Carlisle to shake his head.

“No, my dear. I can assure you, you have left me absolutely satisfied.”

The way he phrased it made you giggle softly. “Maybe that’s something we should do more often?” you posed, and you could feel his hand twitch against you. He gazed down at you and you could see him swallow. When he answered, he spoke just above a whisper, as if almost afraid to admit just how much he liked it:

“Perhaps we should.”

You smiled, snuggling up against his chest, not caring too much for the mess at the moment: it would be cleaned up soon. “Perfect.”

While your morning could have gone better, it seemed your evening was one to remember.