#washing his back in the evening and tapping his freckles

[ch0llies]

ROCK ME | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

oneshot - sunshine!reader x goldenboy!chris

Your relationship with Chris Sturniolo is the epitome of a first teenage love. It’s late night drives with the music too loud, whispered secrets under the covers, and sneaking into each other's houses just to fall asleep wrapped up in each other. It’s the kind of love that feels like summer. It’s warm, wild, and infinite. But with him, it’s not just a season. It’s all year round.

story warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), p in v, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial (if you squint), fluff, established relationship, etc. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 10k (sorry)

The wind rushes through your beach-waved hair, the summer heat warming your body as laughter bubbles past your lips. The bass from the speakers vibrates through your chest. You’re weightless, golden, and free, just like the setting sun in the sky.

Chris lighty grips the steering wheel with one hand, the other draped lazily over the console between you. His black Ray-Bans sit low on his nose, and he tilts his head slightly, peeking over the frames to catch a glimpse of you.

That signature smirk tugs at his lips- the one that got you hooked in the first place, the one that still makes your stomach flip, the one you could never say no to.

The warm glow of the sun catches on his skin, highlighting the freckles scattered across his nose. He looks so effortlessly beautiful. The kind of boy you’d write songs about. You have no idea how he’s yours.

You’re wearing nothing but an orange string bikini top and a pair of light-wash denim shorts, the fabric rough against your sunburnt skin. Chris isn’t wearing much more. Just pink swim trunks and a backward Somerville High cap, a reminder of your life beyond these summer nights.

But you don’t want to think about that.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift onto your knees, climbing onto the center console. Chris barely has a second to react before you’re pushing yourself up and out through the open sunroof, arms spreading wide as the night swallows you whole.

The second your head breaches the top, you scream- loud and free, the sound ripping through the air and blending with the music. The wind hits you harder than you thought, stealing the breath from your lungs, pushing the extra skin on your face back. The sky stretches out above you, painted in deep pinks and oranges.

Chris’s laughter rumbles beneath you, but his grip is firm when he slides a hand up your waist, fingers pressing against the bare skin just above your shorts. “Be careful, baby,” he yells, his voice barely carrying over the wind, but you hear it. You feel it. The warmth of his palm spreads across your skin, grounding you even as you chase the high of the moment.

You tip your head back, hair tangling messily in the wind, letting out another breathless laugh. The music is deafening, the bass pounding through your body, but all you can focus on is the feeling- the reckless, intoxicating freedom of being here, with him, like this. In love.

Chris’s fingers trace slow circles against your side, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there. He’s always there. “You’re gonna get yourself killed,” he mutters, but there’s no real frustration in his voice.

You dip your head forward, glancing down at him through strands of hair, your chest rising and falling with the adrenaline still buzzing through you. “At least I’d die happy,” you tease, voice breathless, full of laughter.

Chris shakes his head, lips tugging into a smirk. “Not happening,” he says, his fingers grazing up your ribs, sending a shiver through you despite the summer heat. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The world feels endless up here, with the wind in your hair, the night sky stretching out forever. But nothing compares to the way Chris’s hands feel against your skin- warm, steady, always there.

You don’t have to look down to know he’s watching you, the way he always does. Like he can’t believe you’re real. He really should be looking at the road but you’re not even mad.

Chris is the golden boy of Somerville High. Captain of the lacrosse team, hometown hero, the kind of guy teachers brag about long after he’s left their classrooms. The guy everyone wants to be, wants to know, wants to love. He walks down the halls like he belongs to them, like Somerville itself is stitched into his skin, and maybe it is.

And you?

You’re the sunshine girl. The one who gets along with everyone, who turns strangers into friends with nothing but a smile. The girl who gets good grades without trying too hard, who sings too loud at parties, who dances barefoot in the grass just because she can. You’re golden in a different way- soft and bright, light spilling into every room you walk into.

Maybe that’s why it never made sense. Why people still don’t get it. But you do. You know how it happened.

You know it started long before anyone else had noticed. Before the stolen glances, before the late-night drives, before he whispered your name like a secret he never wanted to share.

It started in eighth grade, when he caught you skipping class to sit in the empty stands of the football field, watching the sky instead of paying attention to anything else. He sat next to you without a word, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You get lost up there too?” he’d asked, nodding toward the clouds.

You’d just smiled, something soft, something easy. “Yeah,” you’d said. “Guess I do.”

It started freshman year, when he saw you crying behind the gym after another boy on the lacrosse team that you had a crush on asked a different girl to hoco. And instead of making some dumb joke, he just sat with you. Shoulder to shoulder, silence stretching between you, solid and safe.

It started sophomore year, at some house party, when the music was too loud and the air was too thick and his eyes…God, his eyes. They were locked on you like you were the only thing worth looking at. You don’t remember who kissed who first. Maybe it was both of you, leaning in at the same time, laughter turning into something else, something breathless.

You do remember the way he groaned against your lips, the way his hands tangled in your hair like he’d been waiting for this for years. The way he lifted you, effortlessly and careless, and pressed you against the wall like he was never going to let you go.

But that was nothing compared to the first time.

Junior year. The backseat of his Jeep, parked down by the beach, the moon high in the sky. Your body still damp from the water, his skin burning hot against yours. He looked at you like he was afraid to blink, like he needed to memorize everything. The curve of your lips, the tilt of your chin, the way your breath hitched when he traced lazy circles on your hip.

“I’ve never-” you’d started, but he kissed the words right out of your mouth, slow and deep and reverent.

“I know,” he murmured, forehead resting against yours. “Me neither.”

Then he was everywhere, hands and lips and warmth and the most intimate parts of him. And you were his, in a way that felt bigger than a single night. In a way that felt like forever.

Now, here you are. The summer before senior year.

You drop back down into your seat, breathless, the rush still buzzing through your veins. Chris doesn’t let go of you, doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed. Instead, he rubs slow circles into your sunburnt skin, his thumb brushing over the edge of your bikini top, something soft in his touch.

You turn your head, watching him as he drives, golden and effortless.

“What?” he asks, side-eyeing you.

You shrug, grinning. “Just thinking about how unfair it is that you’re so pretty.”

Chris snorts, but there’s a blush creeping up his neck. “You’re one to talk, baby.”

Your life is made up of moments like this. Soft, sweet, and beautiful. All because of him.

Like the time he helped you pick your dress for junior year prom.

You’d dragged him to the boutique, standing on the fitting room pedestal while he lounged in one of the chairs, arms crossed over his chest, looking entirely out of place among the frilly pink decor.

“You know I don’t care what you wear, baby,” he’d grumbled, watching as you stepped out in another dress. “You’d look good in anything.”

“You have to care,” you insisted, spinning around so the skirt flared out. “I need honest opinions.”

Chris rolled his eyes, but there was something soft in his gaze as he studied you. Then he stood, walked over, and reached out to tug at the orange fabric, his fingers brushing your exposed back.

“This one,” he said simply, eyes locked on yours in the mirror. “Wear this one.”

And when prom night came, when you stepped out of your house and into the golden glow of the streetlights, Chris just stood there, blinking like he forgot how to breathe.

“Damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, you’re gonna kill me.”

Or the time he came on vacation with your family.

You had spent weeks convincing your parents, listing all the reasons why bringing your boyfriend wouldn’t be an issue.

“He’s basically part of the family already,” you argued.

And maybe that was true, but you were still surprised when they agreed, letting Chris tag along to your beach house rental for a week in July.

It was like a dream. Waking up to the sound of the waves, sneaking out of the room your parents assigned Chris. And especially the mornings you’d both sneak out of the house just before sunrise, Chris pulling you into the water before the world was even awake.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, legs wrapped around his waist as the tide lapped against your skin.

Chris just grinned, his hands holding you tight, safe. “Yeah. insanely in love with you.”

And then, of course, there were the lacrosse games.

You went to every single one, always in the front row, always wearing his number on your cheek in red glitter paint.

Chris had his routine. Right before a game, right before he ran onto the field, he’d find you in the crowd. You’d blow him a kiss, and he’d pretend to catch it, pressing his fingers to his lips like it was some kind of good luck charm.

“You know I have to do that, right?” he’d told you once, breathless after a win, sweat dripping down his temples. “Superstition. Can’t play without it.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, reaching up to push his damp hair out of his eyes. “So you winning is all me, huh?”

Chris grinned, looping his arms around your waist. “Exactly.” Then, without warning, he picked you up, spinning you in circles until you were shrieking with laughter. “You’re my good luck charm, sunshine.”

And then there was that time. The time that haunts you to this day. The time his parents walked in on you.

Chris’s bedroom. His hands in your hair, your nails digging into his shoulders, both of you breathless, caught up in each other, making far too much noise, until the door opened.

You didn’t even have time to react before MaryLou gasped, spinning on her heel so fast she nearly fell over.

“Jesus Christ, Christopher,” was all she said before slamming the door.

Chris just groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “We’re so dead.”

The next day, he came home to a box of condoms sitting on his bed. No note. Nothing.

He held them up when you walked in, blinking like he was still in shock. “My parents hate me. I don’t know how I can ever look my mother in the eye again.”

You burst into laughter, doubling over on his bed. “I think they just don’t want grandkids yet.”

Chris groaned, tossing the box across the room. “Unbelievable.”

You had laughed then, breathless and teasing, throwing yourself back onto his bed. But that was months ago.

Chris was still driving with one hand on the wheel, the other now resting against your thigh. His fingers trace slow, lazy patterns over your skin, dipping just beneath the frayed edges of your denim shorts. It’s an innocent touch, but your body reacts like it always does. He has completely burned himself into you.

The warmth of his palm seeps into your skin, his thumb brushing back and forth, featherlight, like he’s not even thinking about it. But you know Chris, know the way his mind works, the way his hands move with purpose, even when he pretends they don’t.

You shift slightly in your seat, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to ignore the slow fire building under his touch. Chris notices, of course he notices, and his smirk deepens, barely visible in the dimming light.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asks, voice smooth, teasing.

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t carry much weight. Not when your pulse is hammering against your ribs, not when the song “Rock Me” playing through the speakers seems to fit too well, like fate decided to soundtrack this exact moment.

You glance at him, and God, he’s so mesmerizing. One hand gripping the wheel, muscles taut beneath sun-kissed skin, his jaw sharp in the golden light. His lips are parted slightly, tongue running over his bottom one like he’s deep in thought.

Like he’s remembering, too.

“Do you remember summer ’09? Wanna go back there every night…”

Chris exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Remember this song?”

Your heart flutters, something deep and wanting. You know what he’s thinking.

You remember that night. It was after a lacrosse game, after driving three hours to the playoff game that he scored the game winning goal in. Somehow, you ended up tangled in his backseat, hands desperate, mouths hungry.

Your voice had been breathless against his ear. “I want you to rock me, Chris.”

And he did. Again and again and again.

The memory makes heat curl in your stomach, makes your breath catch just slightly, and Chris knows. His fingers flex against your thigh, grip tightening just enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation.

You turn to face him fully, shifting so your knee brushes against the gearshift.

“You’re such a tease,” you murmur, eyes locked onto him.

Chris grins, slow and dangerous. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His hand slides just a little higher, not quite enough, but enough.

You suck in a sharp breath, and he laughs, that soft, lazy laugh that always makes your stomach flip.

The song builds, the chorus swelling, wrapping around you both.

“I want you to hit the pedal heavy metal, show me you care…”

Chris leans in slightly, voice dropping lower. “Sing it for me, baby.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to fight the smile threatening to break free. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

He just squeezes your thigh again, dragging his fingers in slow, torturous circles. “And yet, you’re still in love with me.”

And God, you are. Wildly, recklessly, endlessly in love with him.

Chris just grins, the kind that’s all mischief and golden-boy charm, the kind that makes your stomach flip even after all this time. His fingers linger on your thigh, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand off playfully, even though you already miss the warmth of his touch. “Pay attention to the road before we crash, golden boy.”

He snorts, but obliges, turning his focus back ahead as the Jeep glides down the quiet summer streets. The sun has nearly disappeared now, the sky shifting from honey-gold to deep navy, the kind of night that feels endless, the kind that makes you believe you’ll never have to grow up.

Then, as if reading your mind, Chris leans back, one hand lazily resting on the wheel, the other drumming against your thigh again. “You hungry?”

Your stomach growls at the mention, making him laugh, and you groan, slumping into the seat. “Shut up.”

Chris shakes his head, reaching for the console to turn down the music. “Nah, this is why I keep you around. You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

You swat at his arm, and he catches your wrist easily, pulling your knuckles to his lips for a quick, teasing kiss.

“McDonald’s?” he suggests, voice light, like he already knows the answer.

Your eyes narrow. “You just want an excuse to get a large fry and make me feed them to you while you drive.”

Chris shrugs, smirking. “And?”

And ten minutes later, you’re sitting in the McDonald’s drive-thru, Chris rattling off the usual order—two large fries, a ten-piece McNugget, a McDouble for him, and a vanilla milkshake for you. It’s routine by now, muscle memory. You don’t even have to ask for extra napkins, because Chris already grabs them, stuffing them in the glove box where he knows you’ll need them later.

The second he pulls out of the parking lot, he’s already reaching into the bag, shoving a fry into his mouth.

“Hey, those are mine,” you scold, reaching over to smack his hand away.

Chris just laughs, shoving another one in his mouth before holding a fry up to your lips, eyebrows raised expectantly. You huff but take a bite anyway.

The drive back is comfortable in the way only summer nights can be. You hum along to the song he had playing on aux, dipping fries into your milkshake, and Chris sneaks sips of it every time you aren’t looking even though you secretly know he does it.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the house is quiet, the lights off except for the faint glow from the kitchen window. His parents are asleep and his brothers probably are too.

Chris shifts into park, then turns to you, smirking. “Wanna come in?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Like you have to ask.”

He grins, pushing open his door before jogging around to yours, yanking it open with dramatic flair. “M’lady,” he teases, offering his hand.

You roll your eyes but take it anyway, letting him pull you out before he slams the door shut as quietly as possible. You both make your way to the side of the house, where Chris knows exactly which windows creak, which steps to avoid.

By the time you sneak upstairs and get to his bedroom, Chris is already kicking off his shoes and tossing his hat onto his desk before he goes to his closet and put on a random teeshirt.

You plop onto his bed, stealing a handful of fries from the bag. “You know,” you say between bites, “your parents definitely know we do this.”

Chris flops down beside you, pressing his head into your shoulder dramatically. “Yeah, well, after the whole condom thing, I think they’ve just accepted it.”

You laugh, turning your face into his hair, inhaling the faint scent of saltwater. “You’re never getting over that, huh?”

Chris groans. “I still can’t look my mother in the eye sometimes. It’s so awkward. She definitely saw my dick.”

“She birthed and raised you. She’s already seen you naked.” You laugh.

“Yeah but that’s different!” He exclaims in a whisper, digging his head even further into your shoulder.

You laugh, before setting the food aside and turning toward him fully. He lifts his head from you and his eyes flicker to yours, and for a moment, the teasing fades. The room is dimly lit, the only glow coming from his bedside lamp, casting everything in a soft, golden hue.

He reaches out, tucking a loose strand of your tangled beachy hair behind your ear. “You tired?”

You shake your head, voice softer now. “No.”

Chris nods, thumb grazing the curve of your cheek before he leans in, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your lips. It’s not hurried, not rushed like it so often is. It’s sweet, gentle- like he’s savoring it, savoring you.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much, my beautiful girl,” he murmurs.

You smile, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt. “I love you too, baby.”

Chris exhales softly, his breath warm against your lips, his hands never leaving your skin.

His thumb strokes gently over your cheekbone, tracing invisible patterns like he’s memorizing you all over again.

You lean in first this time, tilting your chin just enough to capture his lips again. It’s slow. So slow, like neither of you are in any rush, like you have forever to get lost in each other. His mouth moves with yours effortlessly, no desperation, no urgency. Just warmth. Just love.

Chris sighs into the kiss, pulling you closer, his hands sliding down to your waist, fingers pressing into the soft skin below your bikini.

You shift, pressing yourself closer, and he groans softly in response, deep in his throat. The sound sends a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his t-shirt.

He feels so good, smells so good, and you could stay here forever, tangled in him.

Chris tilts his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. His hand spreads even further across the warm expanse of your back, his touch setting fire to your skin.

You sigh against his lips, melting into him as his other hand skims up your thigh. His fingertips brush along the frayed hem of your shorts, not pushing, just feeling, just reveling in the warmth of you.

When you pull back for air, his lips chase yours, barely letting you breathe before he’s pressing soft, lazy kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.

“Chris,” you whisper, and he hums against your skin, his breath sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You don’t answer, just tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans again, a sound that always makes your stomach tighten, makes your thighs squeeze around his hips.

His hands slide to your waist, gripping gently as he guides you into his lap, settling you over him like you belong there- like he’s been waiting for this, for you, all night.

You both pause, foreheads pressed together, chests rising and falling in sync.

His hands are steady on you, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your skin, and when he looks up at you, his eyes are heavy, dark with something deeper than just desire.

Love.

“I jus’ wanna take my time with you,” he murmurs, voice thick, fingers tracing along your spine. “Wanna kiss you slow. Wanna make you feel good.”

Your heart stutters, your body burning with something softer than lust, something heavier than need.

You press another kiss to his lips. Slow and deep and meaningful.

“Then do it.” you whisper against his mouth.

Chris doesn’t need to be told twice.

The moment the words leave your lips, he groans deep and low, something that rumbles through his chest and straight into your core. His hands tighten on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he tilts his head and devours you.

The softness melts into something new, something desperate and raw as he kisses you harder, mouth parting against yours, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping inside. It’s slow, but there’s an edge now- a hunger, a need.

His hands slide up your back, slipping beneath your bikini top, his thumbs grazing over your ribs and to the front, right over the softest parts of you. You shudder, pressing closer, gasping when he bites your lip, tugging just enough to make your stomach clench.

“Chris,” you breathe, and he hums before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.

His body is heavy over yours, deliciously warm, his hips pressing into you as his lips move down your jaw, down your neck, sucking and kissing until your skin is marked with his touch.

You arch into him, hands gripping at his back, before pulling at the hem of teeshirt. He gets the hint pretty quickly and rips it off before diving right back into you.

“You make me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, lips ghosting over your collarbone before he’s tugging at the strings of your bikini top, undoing them with agonizing slowness.

You shiver, anticipation burning through you as his hands slide beneath the fabric, pushing it aside, palms gliding over your bare skin.

Chris exhales harshly, pulling back just enough to look at you. To really look at you. His pupils are blown, lips swollen from kissing you, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to keep himself under control.

“Goddamn,” he breathes, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

You don’t get the chance to respond before his mouth is on you again, his head trailing lower, lower, leaving a path of heat down your torso.

Your back arches when his lips brush against your nipples, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly.

“Chris,” you gasp, breathless, already wrecked from just his mouth, his hands, the way he touches you.

He grins against your skin, his hands gripping your hips as he presses a kiss just above the waistband of your shorts.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, grinning with mischief. “I wanna hear you say it.”

You bite your lip, hips shifting beneath him, your body begging for more, but Chris is waiting, his eyes locked onto yours, watching every reaction, every little movement you make.

So you give him what he wants.

“I want you to rock me,” you whisper.

Chris groans, dropping his forehead against your stomach for half a second, like your words just wrecked him.

Then, he looks up at you, and his expression is nothing but pure, unfiltered lust.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “Anything you want.”

Chris’s lips trail lower, leaving a path of heat down your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. His hands are everywhere but they’re so fucking slow and deliberate. His fingers tracing over your hips, brushing the frayed hem of your shorts. His eyes flick up to meet yours, dark and wanting.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. “Can I take these off?” he murmurs, voice low, rough with restraint.

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

“Need you to say it, baby.”

“Yes,” you whisper, voice barely audible, but it’s all he needs.

Chris groans softly, dragging the denim down your legs, the slow feeling of fabric moving against your heated skin making your core wetter. When he finally tosses them aside, his eyes roam over you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he can’t believe you’re real.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them slightly as he presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then higher, higher.

Your fingers dig into the sheets, breath coming in uneven pants as he moves closer, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Baby,” you breathe, and he hums in response, lips brushing against the last piece of fabric between you.

You lift your hips instinctively, silently begging, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “So impatient,” he teases, but his voice is thick, strained and you can tell he’s just as desperate as you.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your bikini bottoms, dragging them down with the same agonizing slowness, his lips following the path they leave behind. When they’re finally gone, when there’s nothing left between you, he just looks at you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for him.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he murmurs, completely wrecked and full of nothing but love.

A gasp rips from your throat as his mouth moves against you, soft and slow and perfect.

His tongue slides up and down your folds, separating them and pushing his face even deeper into you if possible.

His hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as his tongue finds flicks against the most sensitive part of you, drawing a moan from your lips that makes him groan in response.

He loves this. Loves the way you tremble beneath him, the way you say his name like it’s the only thing you know.

“Chris- fuck.” Your fingers find his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against you, the vibration sending sparks down your spine.

He takes his time, savoring every reaction, every shaky breath, every whisper of his name. It’s slow and unhurried, like he wants to memorize you, like he needs to.

His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes at first, teasing, tasting, savoring every inch of you. He groans into you, the vibrations shooting straight through your core, and the sound alone is almost enough to make you fall apart.

But you don’t want it to end yet. And neither does he.

His nose presses against your clit at such a delicious angle as his tongue moves in and out of you, setting a ruthless pace- the pace he knows you need, the one that drives you crazy, the one that has your thighs shaking against his shoulders.

Chris moans against you, gripping your hips harder, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough. Like he needs you more than air.

And God, he’s so deep, his face buried between your thighs, the heat of his mouth sending sparks all through your body. You’re gasping, your fingers tugging at his hair, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t let up.

You whimper, arching against his tongue, and the cocky bastard grins against you before diving back in, licking into you like it’s his last meal.

“Chris,” you gasp, voice wrecked, breathless.

His grip on you tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you. “Mmm?” he hums, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

You whimper again, unable to form words, unable to do anything but take what he’s giving you.

Chris pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips glistening, pupils blown. He smirks, dragging two fingers through your slick folds before slipping them inside, curling them just right, making you cry out.

“There we go,” he murmurs, watching your face twist in pleasure. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

You can barely breathe, barely think, as he starts moving his fingers in slow, deliberate strokes, his mouth returning to your clit, wrapping around it and sucking softly before licking over again and again.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging hard, and he moans into you.

“Baby,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out.

Chris just grins against you, his tongue flicking faster, his fingers thrusting deeper.

And fuck, you’re so close but he knows your body too well. Knows exactly when to stop, exactly when to pull back, leaving you on the edge, aching for more.

You whine in protest, hips bucking up to chase his mouth, but Chris just smirks, pressing a teasing kiss to your inner thigh.

“Not yet, ma,” he murmurs, voice dark, wrecked. “I wanna take my time with you.”

Moments later he dives right back in. His tongue is everywhere, working in you with slow, teasing flicks one second and deep, dragging strokes the next. His fingers pump into you at a perfect pace, curling just right, pressing into that spongy spot that has you moaning his name like a prayer.

He loves it when you moan his name. Loves the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs twitch around his head, the way you can’t stop moving and arching into his touch, chasing his mouth, desperate for more.

Your fingers are buried in his hair, tugging, pulling, and he groans against you, pushing you further into the mattress at the same time without even thinking about it.

The vibrations shoot through your core, send a spark of electricity down your spine, and suddenly, you’re right there. Right on the edge, breath coming in broken gasps, body trembling.

Chris feels it, knows it, and he doubles down, fingers fucking into you harder, his tongue relentless, determined to push you over that final edge.

“That’s it, mama,” he murmurs, words muffled against your soaked skin. “Give it to me. Wanna hear you.”

His voice is practically a moan that’s full of pure need, and that’s what does it. His voice, his mouth, his hands- everything.

Your body seizes up, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as the orgasm crashes over you, hard. Pleasure pulses through you in waves, your back arching off the bed, your thighs tightening around his head, but Chris doesn’t stop.

He groans as he licks you through it, his hands gripping your shaking thighs, his tongue still working you over, dragging every last bit of pleasure from your body until you’re whimpering, too sensitive, too overstimulated to take any more.

You tug at his hair, trying to pull him away, but he presses one last kiss against your soaked skin before finally, finally lifting his head.

Chris looks like he just fell from heaven. His lips are swollen, glistening, his pupils blown wide, his breath coming in ragged pants.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning as he moves up your body, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses against your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone.

When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You sigh against his mouth, fingers still tangled in his hair, your body boneless beneath him.

Chris chuckles, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Goddamn, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “You’re so fucking hot when you come on my mouth.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch your breath, and Chris just kisses you again.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your hip.

You were still feeling the after effects of your orgasm, chest rising and falling rapidly, skin burning from his touch, his mouth, him. But as the haze of pleasure started to clear, you noticed something else, something that made heat flood your stomach all over again.

Chris was rubbing himself against the mattress.

It was subtle, but once you saw it, you couldn’t not see it. The way his hips pressed into the bed, slow and desperate, his breathing just a little too uneven, his grip on you just a little too tight. His jaw was clenched, brows furrowed, his body tense like he was trying to hold himself back.

“Chris,” you whisper, realization hitting you all at once.

Chris huffs out a breathless laugh, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, like maybe he could hide from how completely fucking gone he is for you.

“Shut up,” he mutters, voice strained, like he’s embarrassed, like he can’t help it.

You feel another rush of heat pool between your legs, because fuck, he looks so good like this. Flushed and desperate, still clothed while you’re bare beneath him, his self-control hanging by a thread.

“You get off on eating me out?” you tease, running your nails lightly down his back, feeling the way he shudders at the touch.

Chris groans, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Ma-”

Your fingers dip lower, tracing the waistband of his swim trunks, and his whole body jerks, his hips pressing down harder into the bed.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut, but it does nothing to hide the way he ruts into the mattress again, like he needs it.

You grin, pressing a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re so hot when you’re needy.”

Chris groans, his hands gripping your hips harder, like he’s trying to keep himself from losing it. “I’m about two seconds away from ruining these fucking shorts,” he admits, voice whinny.

You shiver at his words, your own arousal sparking all over again. “Then take them off.”

Chris swears under his breath, kissing you hard, all tongue and teeth and desperation.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against yours as his fingers fumble with the waistband of his trunks. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You giggle breathlessly, helping him push them down, and the second he’s free, you feel just how much he had been holding back, how worked up he is.

And God, you want him so bad.

Chris presses his lips to your jaw, your neck, everywhere, his body hovering over yours, his hand wrapping around himself as he exhales a shuddering breath.

Then, he looks down at you, pupils blown, expression full of nothing but pure, unfiltered hunger as you wrap a hand around his girthy length.

Chris groans, deep and guttural, his forehead pressing against yours as your words sink into his skin like fire. His fingers twitch against your waist, gripping just a little harder, like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice wrecked, desperate. “Don’t do that. I’ll finish way too fast.”

You simply laugh but oblige, taking your hand off him. “You always say that but then last all goddamn night.”

He simply smiles down at you. And then he’s kissing you, messy and deep, his body pressing into yours, his hands roaming everywhere and gripping your thighs, your hips, your ribs, like he can’t get enough.

You whimper against his lips, still sensitive, still pulsing from the high he just pulled from your body, but it’s not enough. Not even close.

Chris must feel the way you shift beneath him, the way your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, because he grins against your mouth, his hips pressing down just enough to make you gasp.

“You want more, baby?” he teases, voice rough, laced with something dark and needy.

You nod, breathless, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Chris chuckles, low and knowing, his lips trailing down your jaw, sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“You’re so greedy,” he murmurs, nipping at your throat, making you shiver. “So fucking sweet.”

His hands skim down your body, fingertips dancing over your waist before settling on your hips. His touch is warm, steady, as he spreads your legs further, settling between them like he belongs there. He knows he does.

Your heart is pounding, anticipation burning through your veins as he shifts, pressing his length against you, dragging his tip through your slick folds, teasing you, making you ache.

You whimper, tilting your hips up, desperate for more, and Chris moans, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“God, baby,” he rasps, rolling his hips just right, making your head tip back against the pillows. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

You whine, fingers clutching at his back, nails digging in just enough to make him shudder.

“Chris,” you breathe, voice wrecked, full of want.

He exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours again, his hips rolling into yours at a slow, torturous pace.

“I got you, mama,” he murmurs, voice softer now, full of something deeper, something more.

And then he pushes inside you, slow and steady, stretching you perfectly, filling you inch by inch, until he’s buried deep, his chest heaving, his body trembling against yours.

Your breath catches, pleasure coiling through you at the sheer feeling of him.

Chris groans, his hands gripping your hips tight, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, voice muffled against your skin. “You feel so good. So tight.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, pressing your lips to his temple.

“Move,” you whisper, your voice barely a breath.

Chris lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours. And then he rocks into you. Slow, deep, intentional.

His lips find yours again, swallowing your moans, his hands sliding under your thighs, pulling you closer, pushing in deeper, making you feel everything.

You sigh into his mouth, body melting into his, completely lost in him, in this, in everything you are together.

Chris groans, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged, his movements slow and torturous.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs, hips rolling faster, voice thick with emotion, with need. “So fucking much.”

You gasp, clinging to him, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice shaking.

Chris moans at that, his pace picking up just slightly, just enough to make your toes curl, just enough to make you feel the depth of his love, his devotion, his everything.

The world outside ceases to exist but Chris doesn’t stop.

Not after you moan his name like it’s the only word you know. Not after your nails rake down his back, leaving behind marks that will be there for days. Not after he kisses you, slow and deep, like he wants to drown in you.

Not after he pulls another orgasm from you, his name spilling from your lips in a broken, desperate cry as your body clenches around him in a way that was almost painful.

If anything, it only makes him hungrier.

His lips never leave yours, even as he rides you through it, even as he groans into your mouth, hips stuttering, body trembling. But he doesn’t stop. He won’t stop.

He won’t stop until he’s given you everything.

Until the summer heat isn’t the only thing making you sweat. Until the only thing you can think about is him. The way he fills you, the way he ruins you, the way he worships you like you’re the only thing he’s ever believed in.

Chris exhales a ragged breath against your lips, slowing his thrusts just enough to make you shiver. His forehead presses against yours, his body heavy against you, but not in a way that suffocates. In a way that makes you feel safe. In a way that makes you feel like his.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs, voice rough, wrecked.

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

Chris pulls back slightly, searching your face, brushing a stray strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Talk to me,” he whispers.

You swallow hard, your fingers tracing down his spine, reveling in the way he shudders beneath your touch. “I want more.”

Chris groans, low and needy, like your words just broke him completely. “Fuck,” he breathes, his grip tightening on your hips. Then he flips you over.

You gasp, a surprised giggle slipping from your lips before Chris cuts it off with a kiss, pressing you into the mattress, his body covering yours. His hand slides up your spine, trailing goosebumps in its wake, before tangling in your hair, tilting your head to the side as his lips move to your neck.

“You sure you can handle another round?” he teases, dragging his teeth along your pulse point, making you whimper.

“Yes please,” you breathe.

Chris chuckles darkly against your skin, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the base of your neck before rolling his hips forward, sliding back inside you with ease.

You both moan at the feeling, the delicious stretch, the way your bodies mold together perfectly.

Chris grips your waist, holding you steady as he starts moving again, slow but deep, drawing out every sound he can.

“You feel so good, baby,” he mutters, voice husky, full of reverence. “So fucking tight and wet.”

Your head falls forward, pleasure sparking through every inch of you, your thighs trembling as Chris pounds into you, his name slipping from your lips like a mantra.

His pace picks up, hips snapping against yours, the headboard knocking softly against the wall with each thrust, the room filled with nothing but the sounds of your moans and his ragged breaths despite the fact his entire family lay sleeping behind the walls.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You were made for me.”

You whimper, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

Chris’s hand drifts lower, fingers slipping between your legs, rubbing tight circles against your clit, his other arm wrapping around your waist, holding you in place as he ruins you.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with want. “Give me one more.”

And you do. Your body tightens around him, your head falling back onto his shoulder as another orgasm crashes through you, sending sparks down your spine, making you tremble in his arms.

Chris groans, his grip tightening as he follows, spilling into you with a deep, shuddering moan, his body stiffening, then relaxing against you.

Silence settles between you for a moment, the only sound being the heavy rise and fall of your breaths.

Then Chris laughs, his lips pressing against the side of your neck, arms still wrapped around you.

“You’re actually gonna kill me,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, spent.

You smile, turning your head slightly to catch his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Guess I’ll have to bring you back to life,” you whisper against his mouth and within seconds he has you flipped on your back and has slipped inside you, cock already hard again.

His skin warm and slick with sweat. His breath is heavy against your cheek, his lips barely ghosting over your jaw as he tries to steady himself, tries to regain control.

But there’s no control here.

Not when you’re beneath him, body still trembling from the pleasure he just wrung out of you, looking at him with those wide, needy eyes, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like you need him just as badly as he needs you.

Chris groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin lazily, but keeping himself buried inside you because he can’t pull away.

“I can’t stop,” he admits, voice low, desperate. His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider, tilting your hips up just enough to make you whimper. “I don’t want to stop.”

You tilt his chin up, forcing him to meet your gaze, your fingers tangling in his messy, sweat-damp hair.

“Then don’t,” you whisper, lips brushing against his.

And fuck, that’s all it takes.

Chris kisses you hard, stealing the breath from your lungs as he starts moving again. He sets a deep, steady rhythm, pushing into you, filling you completely, making you feel every inch of him.

Your back arches, hands clutching at his shoulders, nails raking down his back, and Chris groans, rutting into you harder, deeper.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters against your lips, hands gripping your thighs, keeping them spread as he rocks into you, slow and deep, like he needs you to feel this, to know how much he wants you.

Your head tips back against the pillow, a whimper slipping from your lips, and Chris takes the opportunity to drag his tongue down your neck, sucking and kissing, leaving marks he knows you’ll complain about tomorrow.

His hands slide up your body, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks, making you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist.

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You’re so fucking sensitive, ma,” he teases, voice wrecked. “Still not over the first one, huh?”

You shake, legs trembling, body overstimulated but still aching for more.

“Chris,” you breathe, tugging him closer.

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts, dragging out every ounce of pleasure.

“Say it,” he mutters, voice dark, demanding. His hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow circles. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitches, your nails digging into his arms as he keeps going, his pace slow but ruinous, building you up again, bringing you to that edge.

“More,” you gasp.

Chris smirks, but there’s nothing cocky about it this time. It’s adoration, it’s pure fucking need.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “Then take it, baby.”

Chris snaps his hips forward, thrusting into you harder, his fingers pressing against your clit, pushing you higher, closer, and you can feel it. You can practically taste the pleasure you were so fucking close.

“Cum for me, ma,” Chris whispers, his voice wrecked, full of love, full of you.

You cum hard, your body clenching around him, your back arching off the bed, your head falling back as you cry out, his name tumbling from your lips for what felt like the billionth time today.

Chris groans, his pace faltering, his grip on your body tightening as he watches you fall apart beneath him, as he feels you squeeze around him, pulling him deeper, dragging him with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- mama” he mutters, his movements growing sloppy, desperate. He thrusts into you one last time, burying himself deep before he shatters, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged pants as he spills inside you again, pressing his forehead to yours, his lips brushing your cheek.

You both stay like that for a moment, tangled together, skin slick, hearts pounding, chests heaving.

Then, Chris chuckles breathlessly, pressing a slow, lazy kiss to your lips and pulling out.

“Round three?” he teases, smirking against your mouth.

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Chris doesn’t hesitate.

The second the words leave your mouth, he kisses you. Deep, slow, filthy. Like he’s already planning on making good on his round three comment. His hands slide up your sides, warm and steady, fingers brushing over your ribs before cupping your face, holding you there like you’re his entire world.

And you knew you were.

Your body still burns from everything he’s already done to you, but you want more. You need more. You can feel him pressed against you, still hard, still ready, and it sends another pulse of heat straight to your core.

Chris groans as your nails scrape down his back, his hips shifting against yours, already chasing that friction. His breath is ragged when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead pressed to yours, his pupils blown even wider, his lips swollen and wet from kissing you.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he mutters, voice wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing his length against your slick heat that’s covered in two rounds of both yours and his cum.

You grin, breathless. “And you love it.”

Chris lets out a dark chuckle, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw, down your neck, sucking another mark into your skin just because he can.

“Damn right, I do,” he murmurs, shifting above you, lining himself up, dragging the tip of his cock through your cum covered folds, making you whimper.

Your body shakes, overstimulated but aching for him again, and Chris feels it. He feels how sensitive you are, how badly you need him.

“I love fucking my cum back into you,” he groans, his voice full of something dark, something possessive. “God, and you’re still so tight.”

You whimper, tilting your hips up, and Chris chuckles, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips.

“Still so desperate, too” he murmurs. You roll your eyes, tugging him down, biting at his bottom lip, making him groan.

“Just fuck me already.”

Chris laughs, but it’s rough, strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“Whatever my girl wants,” he mutters but sinks into you nonetheless. It was slow and deep, stretching you all over again, making your eyes roll back and having your nails dig into his shoulders as he fills you completely.

Chris groans, his head dropping to your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes. “I’ll never get tired of that feeling.”

You whimper, still sensitive, still ruined from him, but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

Chris lifts his head, tilting your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Look at me, ma,” he murmurs. “I wanna see your pretty face.”

And fuck, the way he watches you as he starts moving, the way his eyes burn into yours as his hips roll in deep, deliberate thrusts- it’s enough to destroy you.

He drags it out, keeping his pace slow, making sure you feel everything, making sure you need him as much as he needs you.

“Chris,” you gasp, legs tightening around his waist, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, and he moans, his hips stuttering just slightly.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters, his lips pressing against your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “So beautiful. So fucking mine.”

You shiver, the possessiveness in his voice making another wave of heat crash over you, making your stomach tighten with pleasure.

Chris feels it, knows it, and he speeds up just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath hot against your lips.

“Gonna cum for me again, baby?” he murmurs, his fingers slipping between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles. “Gonna let me feel you?”

You nod frantically, barely able to speak, barely able to breathe, the pleasure building so fast.

“Say it,” Chris demands, voice dark, hungry. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“You,” you gasp, barely able to get the words out. “You, Chris- fuck, I-”

You shatter before you could even finish your sentence. It’s intense, your entire body shaking, pleasure ripping through you harder than it ever has, your hands clinging to him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Chris groans as you tighten around him with such power, his movements growing sloppy and desperate. And then he’s there too, his hips stuttering, his body tensing before he lets go, burying himself deep, moaning your name way too loudly as he spills inside you.

Chris collapses beside you, breath still ragged, body still warm and sticky from everything you just did. His arm immediately wraps around your waist, pulling you into him, like he physically can’t be apart from you yet. His nose nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your damp skin.

For a long moment, neither of you speak, just basking in the quiet, in the aftermath, in the absolute mess you’ve made of each other.

Then Chris shifts slightly, adjusting his body when he suddenly feels it.

His lips twitch, his fingers gripping your thigh as he slowly drags them up, grazing over the sticky mess between your legs.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement.

You hum sleepily against his chest, barely registering the shift in his tone. “Hmm?”

Chris grins, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you, his fingertips brushing against the inside of your thigh again, feeling the both of your cum still leaking out of you.

“You’re dripping,” he murmurs, his tone smug as hell, his fingers teasing as he lightly traces over the mess he left inside you.

Your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as you immediately squeeze your legs together, heat flooding your cheeks.

“Chris!” you shove at his chest, your voice shrill with embarrassment, but he’s grinning now, the tiredness in his eyes replaced with something cocky, something full of pure male satisfaction.

“Shit,” he mutters, dragging his fingers up your thigh again, spreading the wetness slightly just to watch you squirm. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Your face burns, and you slap at his arm, kicking at the sheets. “Chris, get something to clean it before I kill you!”

Chris just laughs, looking absolutely pleased with himself, shaking his head as he presses a slow, teasing kiss to your forehead.

“Relax, mama,” he murmurs, but he’s already moving, slipping out of bed, stretching his arms above his head before sauntering off to the bathroom completely naked, because of course he is.

You bury your face in your hands, groaning as you hear him rummaging through the cabinets. “I hate you so much.”

Chris’s laugh echoes from the bathroom. “You love me.”

You roll your eyes, still burning with embarrassment, but when he returns with a warm washcloth, his expression softens. He kneels on the bed beside you, gently running the cloth over your thighs, taking his time, making sure he’s thorough.

His fingers brush over your skin, slow and warm, and suddenly, you’re not embarrassed anymore. Suddenly, it’s just Chris. Your golden boy, your love, the boy who takes care of you even when he’s teasing the hell out of you.

When he’s done, he tosses the washcloth into the laundry bin, slipping back into bed, pulling you against his chest once more.

“Better?” he murmurs, pressing a lazy kiss to your hair.

You sigh, melting into his warmth. “Better.”

Chris chuckles. “Good. ‘Cause I’m still gonna remind you of this in the morning.”

Before you could reply, Chris inhales a panicked breath and mutters, “Shit, I’m gonna need to buy you like seven Plan B’s tomorrow.”

You snort, laughter bubbling past your lips as you roll onto your side, draping an arm over his chest. “Seven? You planning on going another few rounds in your sleep?”

Chris grins, brushing his fingers up and down your spine. “I mean, if you’re up for it…”

You swat at his chest, making him chuckle, but then your grin turns wicked, teasing. “Your mom is definitely gonna be disappointed that we didn’t use the condoms she bought for you.”

Chris groans, covering his face with his hands. “Jesus Christ, don’t remind me.”

You giggle, propping yourself up on one elbow. “She literally walked in on us once, Chris. She knows you’re not a virgin.”

Chris peeks at you from between his fingers, giving you a deadpan look. “Yeah, and I still can’t look her in the eye.”

You smirk, resting your chin on his chest. “I think she was just trying to be supportive. Making sure her son’s being safe and all.”

Chris grumbles, shaking his head. “She left them on my bed, Y/N. With no note. Just a silent here, please stop traumatizing me moment.”

You burst into laughter, curling into his side as he groans dramatically. “Aw, baby, your mom just wants what’s best for you.”

Chris scoffs. “She probably heard all that too and is currently regretting every decision she’s ever made.”

You giggle, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before whispering, “I think she’s just proud her son has stamina.”

Chris lets out a strangled noise before flipping you onto your back, pinning you beneath him, tickling your sides until you’re screeching with laughter.

“Oh, you’re funny, huh?” he teases, grinning down at you as you squirm beneath him. “You think you’re so fucking hilarious.”

“Chris- stop!” you wheeze between laughs, kicking your legs as he keeps going.

Eventually, he relents, rolling off of you with a satisfied smirk. You’re still giggling, breathless, and Chris watches you with this soft look, like he’s completely and utterly gone for you. And you know he is.

Then he sighs, stretching his arms above his head. “Alright, c’mere, baby,” he murmurs, sitting up and reaching for the hem of the t-shirt he tossed onto the floor earlier. “Let’s get you fully cleaned up.”

You hum in contentment as he helps you sit up, grabbing another rag from his nightstand and running it gently between your thighs, collecting more of your release that spilled out. The whole time, his eyes stay locked on yours, full of something deep, something warm.

When he’s done, he grabs one of his t-shirts from his drawer that was soft, oversized, and smelling exactly like him and slips it over your head, his fingers brushing over your skin as he helps you adjust it.

“There,” he murmurs, voice low, fond. “My girl in my shirt. Fucking perfect.”

You smile, curling into his chest as he tugs the covers over both of you. His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your back.

You sigh, completely melted into him, your body still humming with the remnants of everything he’s given you tonight. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady, grounding.

Chris presses a slow, lingering kiss to your hair, his fingers continuing their soft path over your spine, tracing lazy, absentminded patterns like he never wants to stop touching you.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs against your forehead, his voice thick with exhaustion but still full of that quiet, unwavering care.

You nod, nuzzling closer, your legs tangling with his beneath the sheets. “Mhm. Perfect.”

Chris exhales softly, tucking you even closer somehow, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.

“Good,” he whispers, his lips brushing over your temple. “Gotta take care of my girl.”

Your chest tightens, warmth blooming inside you at how soft he is now, how different this moment is from the desperate, hungry way he had fucked you just minutes ago.

This is what you love about Chris.

That he’s wild and reckless and cocky, but then he’s this, too. He’s gentle, protective, utterly devoted in a way that makes you feel so unbelievably safe.

Your fingers rub absentmindedly against his chest, your eyes growing heavy, exhaustion slowly pulling you under.

Chris hums, his breath slowing, his hold on you never faltering.

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead again, soft and lingering. “I got you.”

And with that, wrapped up in his warmth, in his love, in him, you finally let sleep take you, safe in the arms of the boy who always has you and always will have you.

MASTERLIST

[hotwritergf]

I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best. 🌤️

"You know, when we first met, I never figured you for this much of a cuddler." You murmured into his hair, the scent of his coconut hair products filling your nostrils and you sigh in the smell of home. Spencer was the embodiment of home for you. Be it the coffee cup that was practically super-glued into his hand, the bookshelf full of fantasy novels that he'd read to you in the early days of your relationship or the way his fingers fit over your curves and slot in place like puzzle pieces. He made you feel right, he made you feel at home.

"I'm typically not. But you're so warm, and soft." Spencer whispers, nestling his face further into your sternum. "And when I lay here, like this, I can see your freckles." He chuckles, tracing his index finger over the melanin constellations that are scattered across your nose and cheeks. "Plus your eyes are so pretty up close." He adds, rubbing his thumb lovingly over your cheek. You take a deep breath and smile as you exhale; a smile pinning the corners of your lips up.

"You don't have to say that, you know?" You whisper into his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. Spencer frowns; a look of disappointment flooding over him as you make your insecurities known discreetly. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes." Spencer mimics taking his eyes out of his head and locking them in place on your face. Playfully making sound effects as he acts. "But don't you worry little-lady. I can love you enough for the both of us. I'd do anything to wake up to that face every day. Even if you do snore and dribble onto the pillow." He lets out a squeaky giggle, tracing his thumb over your bottom lip as if he was mopping up saliva. "What did I ever do to deserve you, Spencer Reid? My very own genius." You offer him a smile in return, your acrylic nails trailing up his wrist softly as he giggles under the much-too-light, ticklish touch; pulling his arm away from the sensations.

Spence wriggles in his seat; sitting up against the headboard, frantically tapping the bedside table to find his glasses. Once he does, he tips them onto his nose, his pupils dilate under the sight of you as his eyes meet yours with an eye-wide grin. "We're gonna be late. Gotta get up now sweetheart." He speaks in-between yawns, stretching his arms in the air and clicking his head from left to right. You groan, still a victim of the sandman. Climbing over his lap and slotting yourself over his legs, you glance up at him. Leaning your face only millimeters from his, admiring all of his features. His slight wrinkles by his eyes that you can only see when he's laughing harder than usual, his dimples that make each smile so much more personal. You wish you could climb right into that dimple crevice and live there forever under the heat of his smile. Resting your foreheads together, your eyelashes flutter on tops of his cheeks, giving him a delicate butterfly kiss. His lips smooth and delicate as they push into your own, each open mouth embrace ricocheting against your body both physically and mentally. Kissing Spencer feels like your being is traveling to a higher place, like you're evolving into another being; dancing in front the gates of heaven.

You tap on his shoulders; lifting your weight from his thighs. "No rest for the wicked." You smirk as he whines at the loss of your touch, rolling his eyes. Spencer stands at the side of the bed, offering his hand to help you up and draping his dressing gown over you. He leans over, his height still dominating you before he plants a peck on the tip of your nose. You're not sure what sunshine feels like in a person, but the human humidity that washes over you when Spencer touches you is as close to sunlight as you have ever known.

[yuzuvrse]

softly, sweetly

daisuke's there for you when you can't sleep.

daisuke (mouthwashing) x fem!reader, comfort/fluff, not exactly canon-compliant

“Daisuke…” You murmur, tapping his shoulder gently, “You awake?” “Hmm…? What is it?” His voice is hoarse, tinged with sleep as he wakes up. “Sorry…” You press your face into his back, his familiar scent washing over you and calming your nerves, but it clearly doesn’t work well enough, because barely a second passes before you’re sniffling. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” The man rolls over to face you, his brown eyes flooding with concern. “I…” You look up at him and you don’t even know how to string your jumbled thoughts together into coherent sentences – are you all stuck here forever? Will you ever see your family again? Is this where you're going to die?

You finally settle on a broken “I want to go home…”, your eyes filling with a fresh wave of tears. Now you’re crying freely, desperately burying your face in his chest to muffle your sobs lest you wake the others. “Oh, baby…” The pet name slips past his lips accidentally as he cradles your face in his large hands, thumbs calloused from working under Swansea swiping away at your tears, “Shh… it’s okay, let it out.”

Finally, your sniffles turn to hiccups, and then you fall silent. “We’re going to get home, okay? Swansea’s working on getting the cryopods free, remember? By the time 20 years pass, we’ll be back home!” Daisuke does his best to comfort you, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer and ground you with his warmth. His lips crack into a playful smile, “By then, you’ll be a granny~” That pulls a laugh out of you, “Shut up, you’re older than me. You’ll be a great-grandpa!” The two of you snicker quietly, shattering the tense silence in the room. The walls are awash in orange and red hues, painting a brilliant sunset on his features – he really is your sun.

Daisuke cups your cheek with one hand, and your eyes flutter shut as you nuzzle into his touch. It makes his breath catch in his throat, the absolute trust you place in him to be this vulnerable even as your life is up in the air – does he even deserve this? His free hand traces the contours of your face, learning every curve and dip and freckle, staring at you as if to commit your visage to memory. “Don’t stare,” you giggle softly as you open your eyes again. “I can’t help it…” His voice is almost breathless, “You’re so pretty.” A soft gasp escapes you, your cheeks heating up at his simple yet genuine compliment. He smiles, and his eyes are filled with adoration as his gaze sweeps over your features; you really are so beautiful. The gentle intimacy makes warmth blossom in your chest, and you envelope his hand with yours, turning your face ever so slightly to press a gentle kiss to his palm. 

“A-ah?!” Daisuke's eyes widen, almost bugging out of his head, but then his expression softens into one so incredibly tender it feels criminal to witness this moment while the ship hangs frozen in space. Can it be right to love someone under such circumstances? Or is it love precisely because it persists despite the circumstances? He presses his lips to the top of your head, resting his chin there as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neck. “I’m glad you’re here, Daisuke,” you whisper, savouring the feeling of your body slotted against his, two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly as the world falls apart around them. “I’m so glad you’re here too,” He kisses the crown of your head once more, drawing circles on your lower back with his free hand, “Now go to sleep, okay? I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“You’ll always be there, won’t you?” 

“I will, baby.”

( He lied. )

kira's notes ; first post on this acc yippee! and also first contribution to the mouthwashing fandom... i am so deeply obsessed w this man and this game it is Insane. my writing skills are vv rusty so plz bear with me while i get back into the swing of things,,, anyways i hope u liked this hehe <3

[wh1sp3rr]

belated bday kisses with eiji + [2.4k wc]

ೀ masterlist ೀ requests ೀ

you had gotten up extra early today. wanted to surprise your sleepy boyfriend with breakfast in bed since he'd practically spoil you every other day. you gently slither out of his grasp, his arm slung loosley by your waist, belting you in his embrace. slowly, ever so slowly, you move out of the cozy warmth.

his mouth is slightly agape, you can hear his light breathing and you steal one last glance at him, adoring the way the sun's glow curves and bends around his tan face. his summer freckles fading now in the october air.

you smile to yourself, watch him unconciously shift and tap at your abscence. you slip away before your lack of prescence rouses him.

your suck your teeth at the cold kitchen floor your bare feet meet, shiny and cool.

you were going to make him heart-shaped pancakes. warm and fluffy. you begin by searching the cabinets for the ingredients, careful not to be too loud. eggs, milk, butter, sugar, strawberries you'll be sure to wash and slice into lovehearts too—the obvious. then tap and feel around for the maple syrup.

it was in the back in the top cabinet where everything was too high for you. on your tip-toes, you reach up, stretch your arm to its full length. fingers taut as they touch at nothing.

"need some help?" a familiar voice sounds behind you. deep and groggy—morning voice.

you almost flinch at the voice, so focused on the task at hand that you didn't even hear his heavy footsteps. your hands drop and your caught face shifts into a grin as you walk hurriedly towards him, arms wide as you hug him, chest flush against his bare one.

"happy birthday, baby!" you glee, voice excited and loving. his cheek is warm against your lips as you smack a loud kiss there. his sleepy eyes crease when he returns your soft smile.

his toned arms belt around your waist again like his sleepy self did and he speaks into your messy bedhead, "thank you, pretty."

you playfully push his chest, "go back to bed! i'll be done in fifteen minutes.”

"why? what are you making?" he teases.

"nope! back to bed! off you go!" and push him back to your cool bedroom, now bathed in the morning light with the blinds pulled high. he complies and lets you move his body, crawls back into bed without you, arm now propped up on his knee.

"fifteen minutes." you tap at his nose, and leave without another word.

you decide to clamber and climb atop the countertop to reach the maple syrup. halfway consumed, mostly by kirishima.

soon the kitchen island is decorated with all the equipment you need, the baby pink ones kiri bought for you after you showed him some really cute stuff nara smith had on your phone.

your hands become sticky with the strawberry juice trailing down your wrists as you carefully cut them into deliberate shapes. kirishima hums to himself as the familiar smell of the fruit layered with the pancakes hits his nose.

you plate everything and are sure to pour him and yourself each some jasmine tea, both of your favourite.

a little over fifteen minutes passes before kiri puts his phone down and away when you walk in, hands slightly shaky by each side of the breakfast tray from the collective weight as you place it gently on the duvet.

"voila," you say, proud of your efforts.

"oh wow, baby. is this for me?" he says, almost coy.

"of course," you sit down next to him, the strap of your tank top slipping off your shoulder, he picks it up for you, a gentleman after all. you smile at the gesture as you continue talking, "who else would it be for?"

the smile he offers you is deep and genuine, his dimple appearing.

"and the hearts?" he cups your face, "you're so cute."

you scrunch your nose and lean into his brief touch. he picks up the heart engraved cutlery you put on either side of the cream plate before you cut his action off, "wait! i almost forgot," you giggle sneakily.

you leave the room, and kiri's eyebrows crease in curiosity. he can hear you rustling around, scrounging the place for whatever it was that you were retrieving before the noise stops and you come back within a short minute.

your hands are behind your back before you surprise him suddenly, "ta da!" you sing.

clutched between your slender fingers is a yellow baggie with furry green nugs that kirishima's all too familiar with, "hanta?" he asks, light chuckle breaking up his question.

"hanta and denki! they said it was their birthday present for you." you pounce up on him, bag rustling in your grasp. "well, yeah. you're right, it was originally hanta's present. denki asked me to say it was from him too." you say defeatedly, "don't tell him i told you that."

"roger that," he salutes.

you lean over to the bedside table to grab your grinder and kirishima watches your movements, reaps the way your shorts ride up on your ass, is already excited for the sex today.

you catch him staring at you and feel the way his hand curves around your upper thigh, you blush and put your hand over his, point towards his plate with your other hand holding the bag and and grinder, "come on, eat up. it's gonna get cold!"

"alright, alright," he says calmly, removes his hand from your body.

he moans when he takes a bite, chews it slowly, savouring its flavour. "holy shit, this is delicious, baby! thank you."

"you're welcome," you say sincerely, happy with his enjoyment.

he takes another bite and through his mouthful speaks, "how much is that? he tell you?" he piques.

"um, i think he said it was a half a zip or something?"

he continues with his food, chuckling softly, "my guy," he says thoughtfully.

you fiddle with the papers and try to roll the joint tightly—unconfident. kiri glances at your struggling motion before he takes another bite, "want me to roll it?"

"no, i can do it!" you protest. try again, but watch it fall apart over your tray. "ughhh," you look up at the ceiling annoyed.

he smoothly moves his half eaten plate of food away near his hips and you let him take over, the manoeuvre easy for him.

you sigh as you watch him neatly roll the thing with little effort, like he was almost doing it thoughtlessly. you eye and grab the fork and knife on the table, cut the bottom of the second heart pancake off before feeding the triangle to eijiro. he smiles as he chews, eyes focused on the joint before he swallows and licks the adhesive.

you feel warm watching the action, pink muscle slicking the paper before he lifts his head and twists the top.

"another one?"

"up to you, birthday boy," you sigh contently.

he nods and puts the j behind his ear. rolls another. god, he looked so good like this. when his eyes were still small with sleep and voice deep from the same.

he taps and feels around the drawer for a lighter, succeeds and sparks up. your head lulls at the sound he makes when he sucks his teeth and exhales. he tokes again, doesn't inhale all the way and brings his hand behind your neck, your face already hot from what's about to happen.

his lips meet yours and he breathes out into you, it already hitting you—strong shit.

you exhale through your nose, not letting him pull back as you grab and rake your fingers through his hair, tongue deep in his mouth. he smiles and sucks on your bottom lip, bites it softly before placing the burning joint between your lips. hears you suck and pulls it away.

you eskimo kiss him and playfully breathe out in his face. he shuts his eyes, feels the smoke tickle his face before coolly handing you the jay.

"you still have to finish your breakfast..." you say softly, gently bite the fork, "open wide," you’re aware of the innuendo. and he complies, has you feed him another mouthful, his eyes don't move from yours.

you chew at your bottom lip slightly, cut another piece then slowly bring the glossy strawberry and sweet pancake to eijirou’s lips.

he grabs your hand before you can feed him, and he pushes the fork into your own mouth. you let the juices tingle on your tongue, stretch your jaw to chew your bite.

his hand is still clasped around yours, and the fork’s throngs hang on your lips. he watches your mouth move as you enjoy your creation, eyes honed in on the plumpness of your lips.

“how’s it taste, baby?” he asks, voice warm. pulsating. sexy.

you nod, then swallow. “so good.” you widen your eyes, make them look all glassy and doe-like. innocent even.

his teeth show in the smirk he gives you. hand unclasps your own then lets his thumb brush your bottom lip. pull it down a little bit. then smoothly slide under your ear so his fingers reach your nape and his face is pressed into yours in a kiss.

you moan softly. desire boiling inside you. love the feeling of his large hands supporting your head, massage your roots. you speak between kisses, “touch me later.” you breathe, “i wanna put on this lingerie i bought for you.”

“but i wanna fuck you now…” he whispers wantonly

you giggle, feel his tongue in your mouth. pull away and watch his eyes stay staring at your lips, begging to be drawn in.

“i know you do.” his lips reach for your jaw. then your neck, “but it’ll be so much more fun later…” your smaller hand rests atop his that cradles your face.

you feel him suck, then bite. nibble at your skin and kiss the bruise he leaves. his voices prickles your ear, hot and wanton like before.

his lips graze the outer shell as he speaks, “let me at least eat you out,” he gently reaches for your throat, “sit on my face,” he says before kissing your jaw and slipping the jay between your lips again. watches you suck then blow.

you feel his hand drop from your face and reach down for your pussy, already slick with your arousal. he fingers your over the thin cloth of your thong. slow and patient.

you let your jaw go slack at the feeling, feel eijirou’s words echo again, “come on. it’s my birthday, right?”

you laugh, all breathy and flustered, “shut up.”

“make me. tongue will be all up in you, baby.”

you withdraw from his grasp on your throat, smile at him and look into his wet eyes, pupils blown wide so there’s only a thin ring of red.

he scratches and massages the hair by your ear and you hum lightly. pleasant feeling buzzing around you.

soon, eijiro slides the breakfast tray off the bed and onto the bedside table, tokes the joint a last time before letting it burn out, then dips down and kisses your stomach.

then lower. and lower, till finally his lips meet where he’s been begging for them to.

you lift your hips and he kisses you through the fabric, easily slides you on top of him, breathing cut off but he doesn’t care.

he laps at the soft cotton. feels it getting wetter by the second and you bite your lip and rock your hips forward, letting his noise brush up where you need it to.

he hooks a finger under the thin lacy straps and pulls down, you adjust yourself and help him take off your underwear. when you sink back on him he instantly goes full speed. no slow movement at the start like he usually does but a rapid moment with his pink muscle reaching inside you.

your head is woozy and your body feels funny, the weed definitely not helping (or maybe it was?) and you let your voice sing. moan out everything.

you feel him so close to your core. warmth pooling in your stomach in such a way it has you calling his name in that way that he goes crazy over.

he swears there isn’t anything more sexy than hearing you say his name like that. it’s similar to the way you do when you touch yourself on facetime with him. but nothing could comes close to the way it sounded in real life and not some buzzy speaker.

he’s so passionate with the way he eats you up. passionate and on a frenzy. strokes your thighs up down. scraps your skin with his nails when your knuckles are desperately grabbing at his red locks.

you feel yourself getting closer. that mean tightness coming undone. slowly start to grind yourself on top of him rhythmically.

he suckles at your clit, doesn’t let go and leans in when it’s almost too much for you and you try to lift yourself completely off from him. but it’s no use. he’s completely latched onto you.

he would stay like this forever if he could. airflow barely existing. hands all over you. mouth sucking on nectar. his idea of heaven: you.

it was ironic how good he was treating you on his birthday but that’s what made him so perfect. always so thoughtful and doting on you in a way that’s almost fantastical. something you’d only read in fairytales.

“eijirou…” you desperately moan in that way he loves. voice all high and sexy.

he wraps his arms over your thighs, gluing you to him. he could feel you twitching. getting all wet and feeling you running down his chin.

till finally, your whole body gets hot and buzzes. lip caught between you teeth as you pull at his tufts.

you look down at him with an open mouth that breaks into a smile. you feel insanely good, and have to let out that cutesy little giggle you always did whenever he made you finish.

you move yourself off of him, him giving your pussy own final kiss before you plant yourself over his pelvis and straddle him like this.

your smile is wide when you reach down to his face, his hand is behind you neck and already caressing you, “i’m gonna fuck you so good later.” his lips are barely a few inches away from yours before he pulls you down and kisses you.

your lips stay interlocked when he lifts his back from the bed and has it flush with the headboard, hands planted on your hips. you taste yourself and the strawberries on him. sweet and fervent, tongues partnered.

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[loveshotzz]

Favorite Part

steve harrington x fem!reader

🎵I’m tangled in his arms, this is my favorite part, suddenly there’s no worries anymore. 🎵

summary: In the middle of the night, you and steve miss each other.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: 18 + soft semi desperate spooning smut with no plot besides that you and steve had a long week apart, mentions of ass play (fem receiving), dirty talk, cream pie.

author’s note: adjusting to new meds has made writing not come easy, this little blurb is to help me get back into the swing of this. I hope you enjoy 🥹

Your bedroom was dark when you opened your eyes, nothing but the deep purple haze of the late night and the soft glow of street lights in the distance illuminating your four walls. The big tree outside your window dances shadows across your blinds, the low hum of wind carrying what’s left of the storm with it. You loved it best like this, surrounded by him, he’s warm like the sun that was somewhere shining on the other side of the planet, soft with sleep and the smell of spearmint fresh on his breath. The rich pine of his body wash still lingers on his skin from the shower you shared before climbing in bed too tired for anything but sleep. The rain tapping against your window in just the right rhythm to send you both into your dreams.

Your naked limbs lay tangled under the sheets, the dark patch of hair on his chest tickles against the dip of your back with every deep breath your boyfriend takes. The blunt edges of his nails digging into the soft flesh of your hips when he stirs like something exciting is happening to him in whatever place he’s lost in behind his shifting lids. A low puff of air exhales through his parted lips, fanning hot across the nape of your neck, goosebumps rising in its wake while his nose nudges against the shell of your ear. A tight grip by his big hands pulls you closer, strong arms caging you in. You wonder if he’s awake now, like you.

It’s only when you feel the softest press of his lips against your hairline that you know he is. Pushing deeper into his chest, he hums low in approval, wrapping himself even tighter around you, muscles flexing under a sea of freckles. His skin was tanner than usual from the beginnings of the summer sun and you swear you can still feel the heat it left behind while your fingertips trace invisible lines. Lulling your head back to rest against his shoulder, you open your neck up for more, enticing a path for his lips to go. You feel him smile, the stubble on his jaw a little more noticeable as he lights a fire inside of you with each kiss, the sweetness from before becoming a little more hungry when you grind against his hard length pressed between your ass.

“Sweet girl.” His voice is low with a warning he doesn’t mean, the hand on your hip working its way down to grab at the soft meat of your thigh, squeezing, encouraging.

Rolling your hips again, he palms the side of your ass cheek, his own hips meeting yours, his tip catches the entrance you’d only let him explore with his tongue or sometimes a thumb while he’d make you come undone. He taunts you with it, pushing just enough to have you whine, wiggling against him for more.

“That feels good, baby?” His lips brush against your ear with every word, nodding dumbly, the sleep is still so thick in his voice makes your eyes roll in the back of your head. “Is this where you want me?”

“Steve.” You huff already tired of his teasing, he chuckles in between sucking purple bruises where the one’s he’d left before had faded.

His palm curves under your knee to hook your leg over his hip and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed when your thighs pull apart sticky, a disbelieving groan leaving his throat when his cock slides heavy between your slick lips. He can feel how wet you are from just a little bit of his teasing.

“Honey,” He sounds wrecked when he talks again, pulling your leg even farther back so his tip can catch your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. “Were you dreamin’ about me or somethin’?”

Maybe you were, you couldn’t remember, not when he starts circling your entrance, your walls fluttering around his head with anticipation.

“Please,” your voice sounds small, pleading, as the week of not seeing your boyfriend starts to all hit you at once. “Missed you so much, please, I need it.” It sounds like you're throwing a fit as all of it starts to feel like too much and he’s not even giving you enough.

“Shhh, I got you, I got you. I’ll always give you what you want, so sweet for me. Asking so nice baby.” He coos in your ear, his words dripping with honey as he lines himself up, your back arching against him as he inches in slow enough for you to adjust to the big stretch.

It’s like warm silk the way you wrap around him, your walls giving into him no matter how impossible it always seemed at first. Whispered words of I missed you’s, and I love you’s flow freely from his wet lips while you take him to the hilt. The thick patch of hair that frames his base rubbing against your clit in a way that has you keening.

“Fuuuuck.” He huffs, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his cock twitching against your muscles that flutter and constrict around him. Stilling your hips with a firm hold you can tell he’s trying hard not to cum.

He leaves lazy kisses along your back when he finally starts to move, he’s slow, taking his time so you can feel all of him. Every ridge and curve takes up space, stealing your breath with each punch to the spot only he can find. The tip of his nose runs along the back of your neck while his palm finds a new home on the swell of your breast, your nipples peaking instantly just for him.

“Takin’ me so well, look at you. Always so good to me baby.” His praise only adds to the lewd noises filling the room, sliding in and out of you with the kind of ease he usually only gets after he’s made you cum a few times. Steve feels like he might lose his mind.

You whine a little when he pinches your nipple, your own hand reaching behind to sink your fingers into his hair. You needed to kiss him. He obliges, always picking up on exactly what you want. What you need. His bottom lip connects with your top one in a messy way, the power of his thrusts making it hard for anything more than this. Panting into each other’s mouths, your tongues find each other, licking dirty in the middle. The animalistic need for each other finally comes to a head, when two of his fingers find your puffy ignored clit.

“Babbbyyy.” You're so loud and he loves the way you sound like you’re gonna cry, tightening around him like a vice.

His lips tug up in a smirk when he nods against your open mouth, silently telling you he knows. You make a mess of his fingers that circle the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure to make your toes curl and your eyebrows pinch together.

“You wanna cum for me?” He sounds strained, teetering the edge like you despite the confidence of his words, his hips stuttering to prove it.

“P- please.” Your response makes him groan, his fingers picking up their pace as you meet each thrust with just as much vigor desperate to reach your high. White hot heat fills your insides as your body starts to come apart, the sound of your sweat slick skin smacking together bouncing off your walls.

“Saying please like that is gonna me cum too, you want that? You want it baby?” He eggs you on as your head falls back, your jaw going slack when he circles his hips hitting the deepest spot inside of you. “Say please one more time for me, come on.”

He’s practically growling for you to give him what he wants. A fucked out “please!” falling from your trembling lips before your body goes limp in his arms overwhelmed by all of him as your orgasm starts to rip through you like a tidal wave.

Your vision blurs from the intensity of it, mouth open in a silent scream as tears prick the corners of your eyes. He stills to paint your insides, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he bites down on your pulse point to keep from crying out. His whole body trembling against yours as he pulls you impossibly close. You’ve never felt so full, as he slowly starts to leak out.

An aftershock causes you to flutter, making him hiss against your bruised skin overstimulated by the intensity of it all before he’s finally soft enough to slip out of you. The sleepiness from after the shower returns to both of your spent bodies as he nuzzles his face back into you making no moves to untangle himself.

“I really missed you.” He mumbles, pressing a tender kiss to his favorite spot behind your ear.

“I really missed you too Stevie.” You hum content, the sound of the storm returning filling the quiet again.

[justporo]

By candlelight

A/N: Ah yes, you know the drill by now. I play barbies with @velnna's Staeve. And quite often so lately. If you followed me for Astarion, guys, I'm so sorry - but at least he's always in here as well! So this was inspired by something @reijenhere said, namely something along the lines of: what if Astarion notices Staeve has grown first grey hairs. So here we are, thanks again @velnna for letting me play with your son and @reijenhere for the inspo, mwa!

~~~

Astarion woke up in the middle of the night - shaken by nightmares like he sometimes still was. No matter how many years had passed.

The candle on the nightstand hadn’t fully burned down to its butt yet. So warm light still spilled from it, drawing long shadows on the pale elf as he slowly sat up with a silent moan leaving his lips, trying to not wake his partner beside him.

Staeve was sleeping peacefully on his stomach, one arm absentmindedly wrapped around Astarion’s waist, even in his dreams. As if he had felt that his love might need an anchor tonight.

The vampire felt the comforting weight of it as he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes, leaning his head back against the wooden headboard. With deep breaths, he tried to let the unsettling memories and fear be washed away - piece by piece with every wave of air. Unknowingly adjusting to the calm rhythm of Staeve’s body rising and falling beside him.

And when his tension had eased enough to feel rooted in the present once more, he lifted his hands from his eyes and let them rest gently on Staeve’s arms. One wandered up over it, fingers tapping over the hairs and freckles softly before they wandered further over his shoulder and neck, then his jawline and one pointy ear before they lightly curled in dark green hair.

Astarion observed how the softly flickering light from the candle painted his lover’s skin and added a warm orange sheen to his hair. How it reflected on their matching pair of silver bands on their fingers.

He kept caressing his unaware lover, counted some freckles on his arm while feeling the fine hairs there beneath his fingertips, with his other hand curling strands of silky moss green around his fingers. Astarion’s shoulders slowly relaxed, the steep wrinkle between his drawn together brows flattened as crimson eyes kept wandering over the form of the resting half-drow, along with pale, light fingers.

Then all at once his eyes and hands came to a stop.

The vampire’s eyes were suddenly trained on a single strand of Staeve’s hair twirled around his fingers.

Something there wasn’t catching the light quite like the rest.

In fact, now that he had spotted it, it was blatantly obvious: a single hair that shone brightly in a sea of green. Silver, like the wedding rings on their hands.

Astarion stared at it, eyes wide, his whole body right back to being as tense as it had been moments ago, the wrinkle between his brows deeper than before.

It was hard to spot, even for a vampire and his heightened senses, barely more than a needle in a haystack. Staeve probably hadn’t even noticed.

But once noticed it was impossible for Astarion to overlook.

When he finally dared to let his eyes move further he quickly spotted more: single, painfully light hairs peeking through; on his arm too.

As another kind of dread than before slowly rose up within him, Astarion’s gaze jumped to his lover’s face. And he saw it there too, now that he was aware of it: how the lines around those lips and eyes had become a little deeper, more threatening to be drawn soon.

Staeve was inevitably growing older. While Astarion was doomed to never change.

Thankfully, at this moment the candle died out as it reached its end. It left the room in merciful darkness, forcing the vampire to lose sight of this harsh truth.

He sat there in darkness for a few more moments longer with his mind racing.

Then, void of anything else to do, Astarion softly took Staeve’s arm as he laid down beside him again. Unconsciously in his sleep, Staeve groaned lightly, turned to his side and drew his partner in closer with his arm looped around him until they were neatly cuddled up on their sides.

Astarion was left with his thoughts running through his head.

But he felt the steady rhythm of Staeve’s heartbeat and his warmth slowly sleeping in, his smell and the reassuring weight of the arm wrapped around his waist. 

Despite himself Astarion noticed how he was softly pulled back to hopefully more pleasant dreams, his body slowly falling victim to his lover’s calming presence.

Something that, despite anything else, hadn’t changed yet.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Your hands.”

William smiles, tiredly, glancing down at the chapped fingers crooked around the tarnished silverware.

“Yes,” he says. “I know.”

“Don’t they hurt?”

“I’m used to it.”

He smiles again, after he says it; I’m used to it, don’t worry. He eats fine, does not wince as he moves and flexes the cracking skin, but it does not take long for them to bleed; sluggishly, slowly, pearling along tectonic lines, pooling in creases and knuckle dips.

Niccolò returns to his dinner, and watches him. The tap of his foot is at odds with the clink clink clink of his knife, the scrape of his fork along his chipped front tooth. His shoulders droop but his face does not, hair still pinned back, eyes sleepy and far away. His freckles seem to twinkle under the flickering of the candlelight, making those blue eyes into something sparkling.

“You should sleep,” Niccolò says, swallowing. “You’re tired.”

William finishes the last of his plate, and smiles, again, small and pretty and tired, still, but the gentle kind.

“It is my turn with the washing.”

“Yes,” Niccolò agrees, “but you are sleepy. And your hands are chapped.”

William says nothing more, only hums, but he kisses Niccolò’s forehead as he passes, gentle, squeezing his shoulder, and sets his dishes on the counter by the sink, untouched.

“Goodnight,” he calls from the bedroom, as Niccolò’s hands are slippery from the soap, and warm.

“Goodnight,” Niccolò responds, and turns back to the sink. He can hear the bed springs creak, and William sigh, and he smiles, waiting on the snores. They do not take long. He hums along to them as he finishes, washing up the pots, too, and the oven, and the counters. Soon the kitchen is sparkling and the sun sits low on the horizon, and he dusts, too, having noticed the griminess floating among the golden rays.

At the end of it his hands are smarting. The soap clings to his skin, even as he rinses them, and he tries to avoid picking at his knuckles, rubbing the skin; reddening them further.

He tries to imagine this, day in and day out; bedpans and food trays and cutlery and surgical knives, all dirtied, all reused. Stinging lye soap and coppery bleach. Aching, chapping hands, curled to bleeding, stretched to tearing; worn through elastic.

He retreats to his study, frowning.

———

based on “he loved her to the point of invention” (7th slide)

[j0kers-light]

Just imagine that once you have a little more confidence with J you start denying him doing things with his grease paint on, yeah he gets it, no sleeping, thats fine, you don't want him to stain your sheets.

But no kissing? Not eating you out? Not nuzzling his cheek against yours? Oh, god, the man is MAD.

FERAL you hear me anon?! 😤🖤✨

Ever since Joker revealed his face to you, it’s rare that he wears his clown makeup around the house. But sometimes he forgets to wash it off. Let’s discuss!

If you see his makeup on while at home, it’s an automatic no.

*taps sign* You know the rules J.

No kissing

No touching

No sex

No oral

Until all makeup is removed !!

You refuse to acknowledge this man until you can see his bare face, freckles and all. No substitutions whatsoever and he knows that. Still Joker resorts to begging.

“I stopped by just to check on ya. C’mon doll… just a lit-tle sugar? I’ll be leaving in 10, I don’t have time to wash off and re-app-ly… don’t be so stubborn Bunny!”

You sit on the couch ignoring J. You flip a page and briefly glance up, “No.”

This man is on his knees you hear me? Big green eyes blinking back dramatic tears as he hugs your legs.

“My Light, I’m beggin ya! Just one, one little smooch n’ I’ll be on my way..”

You roll your eyes like you haven’t heard that excuse before. One smooch ended up being four intense orgasms back to back and a follow up phone call to an upholstery shop to deep clean your couch.

Joker fails to understand how messy his greasepaint really is. You won’t tell him you secretly like the white and red smudged on your thighs… MOVING ON!

Joker pretends to faint. “Denied by my Goddess! What-everrrr shall I do?”

“Quit being so dramatic J. You can kiss me—AHT! Wait!! After you remove your makeup and that’s final.”

He clutches his heart and falls into the floor. He’s actually pretty good at playing dead. He doesn’t move even when Frost calls his cell, twice.

You continue to read, unbothered. “Don’t you have a big heist tonight? Go annoy people there.”

Joker sees he’s getting nowhere with you. He stands up and adjusts himself since you’re now eye level with his cock. Oh now look who’s being cruel..

He leans down, careful not to graze your skin with his. “When I come back? Mm.. you’re gonna get. iT.”

[twst-drabbles]

Azul 27

Summary: Azul finally decided to let you see his sea form. You've been wanting to touch him in this form like this for a while.

(This turned out longer than I thought. Was going to keep this short but oh well, I like spoiling him occasionally.)

"What if, one day in the very very far off future, I decided to show you my other form? Of course, it's not as if I'm ever going to show you… but, if I do, what will you do?"

Usually questions like that are accompanied by that usual, irritating smug look on Azul's face, like he had the clairvoyance needed to see all the little things that go on in your head, but it wasn't there that day. Well, it was there, it was just a different variety of smug. A fake smug. Like his attempt to toy with you ended up exposing a part of himself, to himself, that even he wasn't aware of.

Azul is horribly easy to read once one gets to truly know him.

So, on that day, you responded with, "Hmm, probably cherish every part of you."

He choked and you laughed as you set his hat straight, and then Azul never brought up that question, or that day up again.

Until now, that is.

You have seen Azul in his sea form, but it was under circumstances too dangerous for you get a good look at. Or properly enjoy. That and when someone is under overblot, all their colors just get more ashy, like they were dunked in a pool of ink and not properly washed out.

Azul is still gray, but there's this purple, almost indigo undertone to it that gives him more life compared to back then. His tentacles writhed uncomfortably on the floor, and Azul looked ready to curl up somewhere and hide from the world.

"Well?" Azul pouted, "Are you going to just stand there with the door wide open?"

It's weird to think that all people under the sea are usually naked, and that they're comfortable with it. You can't help but wonder how long it took to adjust to full clothing. It couldn't have been a comfortable adjustment. And yet here Azul is, trying to cover himself like a human would, in a form that works best naked.

You closed the door and brushed your fingers against the tentacle that was ready to lock the room for you.

"Wait--" Azul shivered, hand slapping over his face to hide the blood rushing to his cheeks. "Don't just touch me out of nowhere!"

You put your hands up, smiling. "Sorry, sorry."

It felt… just about what you expected to be honest. Fleshy, but there's a firmness to it that felt nice.

Azul retreated his tentacles back to himself, but he didn't turn away from you. His arms were stiff at his sides as his eyes look at anywhere but you.

So, as per usual, you took the first step. "Mind if I touch your face?"

Best to start off with something easy, something familiar.

"…You… you may."

Besides, you can never waste an opportunity to make his face go soft like this.

Azul's head practically brushed against the ceiling. He had to both sit and bend down just to have your hands reach his face.

"It really is weird how magic can hide so much of your mass," you said after a quick peck on his lips.

Azul didn't give a verbal reply. He just made a noise under his throat.

You gave another kiss, on his left cheek. "Mind if I can feel your extra limbs?"

Azul made the same noise, louder, behind a clenched jaw.

"Is that a no?" You soothed a palm over the back of his neck, playing with the little hairs on them. You're fine with just seeing. At least now you know how his colors actually looked.

"You… may." He sighed into your neck, clutching at your shirt. His tentacles rose from the ground and lazily brushed against your legs.

You caressed a thumb over the glittery freckles of his hips. "You can stop me at any time, alright?"

Azul hummed.

You tapped against one of his lilac suction cups, liking their almost swollen appearance. Almost reminded you of bubbles. Your every touch made Azul twitch, but he didn't say or do anything about it as you continued to touch.

Azul's breath transformed into a shivering sigh when you trailed from the thin end of his tentacle, to the plump base, and to the gills flaring below his torso.

"Was that too much?" You asked, amused as you continued to touch his waist.

Azul slid his palms over your waist, turned his head, and kissed your neck.

"No," you lightly chuckled, carding through Azul's hair, "I guess not."

You guided his head and laid your lips on his.

[robiinurheart33]

I’m SUCH a sucker for drunk calls/texts confessing their love and y’all know I gotta project it onto ghoap (buckle up guys its a long one I had to break it into two parts SORRY) pt. 2 (clicks for Palestine)

Soap’s blood is pumping. He can feel it heat up in his cheeks in the form of a blush, giggles bubbling up in his throat and his mind loose enough to just sew together a semblance of a bad idea.

Deployment had been boring at first. Stuck at home with unending nervous energy, fingers twitching and aching for the solid feel of a gun, the rough texture of his vest, the adrenaline clapping him on the shoulder before shooting through his veins like a drug. It was so unendingly dull. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him at his apartment in Glasgow, and their break time was too short to visit his Ma.

So why not invite a few buddies out to drink? No harm, no foul.

Well, that’s what he initially thought. A couple hours later of wheezing and pounding of the table, shoes sticking to the ground and the smell of booze wafting though the air, Soap could confidently say that he was wasted. He’s leaning heavily on his buddy, chum, pal, that he for the life of him cannot remember right now. He’s swaying from side to side, feeling unusually breathless as he mumbles what could be the song that’s playing right now. He’s not sure. He combs his fingers through his hair, scratching a bit anxiously at the nape of his neck. Soap’s not sure if he wants to cry or laugh or vomit right about now. Pretty sure that’s a sign to fuck off, pass out on his bed and deal with the rest tomorrow.

Soap pushes off his… friend? Wait, did he even come with him? And heads towards the general direction where the toilet is. Might as well not look like a homeless person before heading home, wouldn’t wanna scare anyone. His head is spinning, pounding, loud, loud, loud, and nowhere near done with its madness. Soap slams his hand on the wall beside the toilet door, squinting and hoping the door he’s reaching for is the actual door, not it’s double. He does, in fact, get the right door (small miracles), and pushes it open.

He fumbles with his zipper and exhales heavily as he relieves himself. The man beside him in the toilet exits with a sniffle and stumbles out, the music getting louder for a second before the door closes again. Soap leans heavily against the sink counter and washes his hands, placing his fingers together and splashing water onto his face. Soap drags his hands down before greyish-blue eyes look back at him with a piercing stare. He blinks, and re-evaluates again. His hair is flopping to one side, weighed down by sweat. His face is flushed and his skin glows slightly with a thin sheen of sweat, his freckles just shy of being seen under his rosy cheeks, eyebags evident through the haze. He looks down and- oh. It appears his attempt at splashing his face with water wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped, half of his shirt drenched in water. Soap tugs loosely at the corner of his sleeves, releasing the bundled up fabric at his pits. He frowns in discomfort as the sticky heat of his arms lay back down against his skin. He sighs once more, not really feeling like his lungs are filling with oxygen, turning around and laying his hip against the counter lazily before pulling out his phone. 0237. He swipes down on his home screen and pouts at the “no new notifications” tab. He unlocks his phone and swipes through his contacts, unsure of who to drunk text at this hour. Gaz is probably asleep by now, if anyone has a spotless sleeping schedule, it’d be him. Price would have his head on a platter if he texted him about anything non-military business. Laswell, no. Ghost?

Huh.

Ghost…could be someone he could text. Soap isn’t quite sure if he would be awake right now. Do ghosts even need sleep? He huffs at his little comment, tapping on their chat together. Do they have the kind of relationship where soap can dramatically drunk text Ghost at 2am right now? Soap lets out a little bemused huff when he sees that he reached a dead end to their chat after one swipe of his thumb. Of course. Right bastard doesn’t text anyone. He tilts his head up to meet the flickering white light of the bathroom ceiling, watching water damage and mold streak across the concrete. Ghost… how is he during deployment? Does he still wear that mask around the relative safety of his own apartment? Does he have any hobbies? Does he go to the gym as well? Does he long to be back on base? Does he long to be back in the chaos of the war zone, alongside soap? Does he think of soap? Does he ever think to- before Soap knows what he’s even doing, his fingers clumsily type out a greeting.

Hwlli

That’s not quite right.

Gellp

Nope.

Hellu

Oh my god.

Hello

There we go! Soap smiles giddily at his screen, bringing it closer to his face before very carefully writing a much more sophisticated and brilliant follow up.

U up?

He’s the smartest person in the entire world. He supposes a part of himself preens at the thought of even just being able to text someone like Ghost. Big, bad, Ghost. He decidedly does not giggle like a schoolgirl. Just as his mind starts to wander back to the world outside the sickly bathroom, his phone vibrates, and looks down in confusion.

Drunk?

Soap frowns.

Who

You.

Wanna try anf gues, Lt?

You are drunk.

He says it like it’s a fact, like he knows everything. It annoys Soap, much more than it should. He supposes that it could maybe be something to do with the massive amounts of alcohol thrumming through his bloodstream at the moment, but he knows for a fact that it slices through his brain, presses against his throat and contracts his chest.

Yiu think so?

I know so.

Soap thinks Ghost is being a real dick right now.

Ittle know iy all

You’re drunk, Johnny. What do you want me to do about it?

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny. His head spins. If he closes his eyes and imagines hard enough, he can hear the raspy gravel of Ghost’s solid, thick British accent murmuring commanders into his ear. Speaking of noises, his brain starts to register more of the music from outside, the start of a song that Soap can vaguely remember, but he can’t quite put his finger on it right now. The electric guitar, drums and bass all purr in his subconciousness, his lips parting over the words, moving silently as he tries to pinpoint exactly where in the song he is right now. There’s this tune… think of you.. repeat, until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…do I wanna know? Soap whispers, his mind curling and his ribs creaking. He feels like he’s truly, deeply losing it now, fingers slowly loosening over his phone. His head feels too big and his cheeks are burning, his shirt too tight against his chest and arms and his toes too restricted under his shoes. Everything was funny and everything was too bright and shiny and yearning and blurring and he wishes Ghost was here and he wishes everything was different and he wishes life could just be a little bit easier and-

His phone is vibrating.

Crawling back to you.

[applescorner]

rare love (jason todd × y/n) - angst one shot !-

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

summary : after your bf jayson comes back from the dead, he's not quite the same jay you feel in love with, and you don't know what to do anymore ?

warning : talk of death, mental health, not really any heavy topics or issues, just kinda sad overall :(

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

he had eyes that could drown any naive sailor who thought they were brave enough to whether the furious storms of the sea. as wide and as endless as my love was for him, i was ship wrecked the moment he called me babydoll.

he rarely ever said my name, maybe when he got mad or disappointed, but he doesn't say it now regardless of his feelings, it's baby doll this, and baby doll that, but.... my name has value. it means something. I mean something

perhaps it did, too, once to the man i loved beyond every evil thing that could kill hope in this cruel city. he was my anchor, the wind in my sails.

the eyes i yearn to find love and life once again in is gone and that is far more terrifying than actually not having him. somedays he's here not present, other days....

"jay" i softly whisper tapping his shoulder. broken from his trance, impossibly fast he snatches my wrist, his blue eyes bore into my fearful gaze, searching for something

malice, deciet, ulterior motive to hurt him ?

whatever it is he doesn't find it. instead of apologizing, he kisses my inner wrist, with all of his weight and muscle ontop of me he leans back now and sighs.

I do the best I can to comfort him and just begin to run my hands through his soft raven black hair. even touching his hairs a rare treat.

ever since's he's come back everyone and everything around us, around him, he observes, analyzes, and stews over.

hot showers we used to use as an excuse for more time together is another wall for me to break through.

I used to be able to stand behind and wash his muscles, trace the freckles down his face and back , kiss him while keeping eye contact. Whisper to him how beautiful the stars on his body were. nothing gets to stand behind him, back up against the wall, he washes me firmly with no care insteading of leaving hickies or handprint like how we used to. he just leaves scratches from how harshly he scrubs at my skin.

cautiously wrapping his hair around my fingers, I hum to myself. After a moment I test the waters.

"j"

resting his nose in the crook of my neck, he sniffs the area where i put lotion, and his breath slows almost to a full stop. after my shower, i grabbed any bottle in front of me. absentmindedly, i put on his favorite. he liked things that reminded him of me. vanilla, warm sweaters, rainy days, the movie footloose.

staying over at bruce's sometimes on holiday breaks i would round him and the boys up to the theather room, put on footloose, and teach them the cherogrophy. eventually they got the hang of it. jay, bruce, tim and i had no shame, we would place two long coffee tables together, put on socks we could glide in and dance like no tomorrow.

"yeah doll"

" say my name." I nudge him playfully

under his messy hair he tips his head up, through it I can see in his eyes there's a hint of humor "B A B Y D O L L ...babydoll"

I stare at him as intensely as I can, but under his 'equally' intense one, I cave, mustering a small smile " what's my n a m e... mr. j a y s o n t o d d "

I wait with baited breathe, studying every inch of his face for a giveaway of something. annyonce, ire, anger even ?. i've been begging, pleading and pushing him in just about every way known to man for a semblance of my name.

an uneasy air passes by

squaring his shoulders, and grabbing my chin softly in his hands, he pulls me down to him ; inches away from his lips.

"y/n. y/n m/n l/n "

a thousands feelings shoot off in my brain, my blood feels hot and the ceilings feels heavy but he was all I could see all I could focus on.

the truth may not be pretty, it may not be laid out perfectly for you to easily digest but when it's presented in front of you : you have two choices you can either dig in and hope for the best, or you can discard it and order something different. I chose the former.

"do you have any idea what it's been like to chase after the person you love's affection. I don't ask for you to be perfect, I don't expect for you to be okay all the time. I just want for you to say my name. Not just for my own mental sake. For yours as well, my love. I need to know that you know that there is just more than you here present in this relationship. In your life. I exist to and if you won't remember, then I don't know how to help you nor us"

"the only thing that kept me going was the thought that if you were still alive then we both were still alive y/n. It's not an apology. So many people have given me them, I don't know where to put their empathy and compassion. It's maddening. I love you I've never wanted to suffocate you. I just figure that instead of apologizing for all my mistakes I would treat you better show you that I'm trying ".

I cup his face bringing him closer, our lips brush "I see you, I appreciate. I'm not going anywhere. Apologies are a good things to have. Like love and grace they cover lots of things"

"Even sin ? "

"Even death, love brought you back did it not".

"No," he states firmly "your once in a lifetime, rare, wonderful, crazy, grounding love brought me back.

wrapping his tree branch arms around my waist he pulls me in for an earth-shattering kiss.

Author's Note : If you liked it please consider liking & following for more (kinda in a jason todd phase right now ;*. Let me know in the comments any feedback or improvement I can work for the next peice.

[skzdedgf]

" And you are ? " pt. 1

Next

𝙨𝙠𝙯𝙙𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙛 ©

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: nonidol!Lee know , Suggestive? so mdni! , Lee know x fem!reader , They are in college , Lee know is mean (other members as well).

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ! : Cursing , Name calling (bitch, asshole, dumbass, etc.) Drinking, Crying , Mentions of oral (m receiving), Mentions of drug use, Bullying?. Let me know if I missed anything!! Not proof read!

WC: 1k

A.N Undercut.

this is my very first fic ! please enjoy and let me know anything I can improve !

'Ughhh' You let out a groan as you realize you forgot your textbook for english, you had spent all night studying in it that you overslept and here you are, mid class with no way to keep up with the lesson.

"Hey" whispered a sweet voice behind you, your lecture room is big almost like a cinema room so when you groaned it echoed

"Can you be quiet.. I'm trying to focus." You were too frustrated to notice the boy until *𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱* A pencil taps your head, you turn your head to be met with a sweet freckled boy with soft blond hair.

"Oh hi.." You say awkwardly.

"Yea hey can you shut up? you echo out and its kinda annoying.."

You clench your jaw and slowly turn back around, pink flushing your ears from embarrassment. You zone out a bit..

gosh are people in this class always mean..?,, he looks very familiar though.. but what was that name,, it was something with lee god what was it,,, you thought

"Felix! Yes what do you believe happened to Edgar Allen Poe to create such horror filled stories?"

You snapped back to reality. 'Hm.. Felix' you mumbled as the Blondie now known as Felix stands behind you. *RINGGGG

"What the fuck I was just gonna answer..!" Felix said dramatically with a hint of annoyance in his voice, The professor chuckles as he packs up and gets to heading out as everyone else does. You start packing up and heading out back to your dorm to collect more textbooks and your laptop for your next class.

*ding

your phone goes off, it's your older sister Genesis

-Genni ! : Hey I heard there's gonna be a frat party at 10pm, y/n please go out with me this once, you haven't since your highschool years please y/nnie ~ :-*

-y/n : Genni.. You know I hate frats.. It's just a bunch of guys looking for a blow and or some molly, girls with 2 string as a shirt, I don't even have anything for a frat!!

-Genni ! : y/n, your actually killing me. You fit in my clothes, you don't have to go all out, no one is gonna make you give a guy head, no one is gonna let you have molly, your fine with me! Cmonnn you will let losseeee

'sigh' you read that text and start to wonder ,, hm.. I haven't been to a frat actually,, maybe one with my sister will be fine,,

-y/n : fine.

-Genni ! : YESS TYTYTYTYY I LOVE YOU SM COME TO MY DORM! ITS 8:30 WE HAVE TO GET READY ASAP

You smile at the text while walking to your own dorm then you get a whiff of something and hear.. coughing? Finally looking up from your phone you see a group of guys standing in front of your dorm room smoking some strong weed.. , luckily you have an outdoor campus so they weren't killing people with the stench.

"Oh look guys it's that chick I was saying was fucking loud all the time always making some time of noise knowing how much the class echoes" Felix says annoyed. A black haired guy with a beanie and chrome hearts hoodie steps forward and says "No way your Genni's sister! You look just like her!" He says in a thick Aussie accent "I'm Chris, Genni's good friend, Are you a bitch like her too ??" He says poking is tongue into his cheek with a small grin

"Hey you know not-" You we're cut off by another guy with a slim figure with daring eyes and washed out purple hair "Wait,, and you are?" You clenched your teeth and took a deep breath in smelling the reek of weed "First off back up you smell like shit.." a scattered 'ouu' comes out the other 5 boys you don't know "Second off let me get to my dorm" pointing to your door that's being leaned on by a chubby cheeked boy with fluffy hair "And lastly I'm y/n."

You heard a couple scoffs come out and the boy in front of your door says "C'mon lee know this bitch IS annoying.. Felix wasn't lying." Lee know scoffs and flicks ash from his blunt down at your shoes making you jump back. He lets out a small giggle while walking towards the rest of the group. "Let's go then Han" Lee know says, all the boys walk down the hall.

You storm into your dorm room slaming the door feeling embarrassed and you look down at your freshly bought shoes.. ,,fuck theres a burn mark,, you lean down to try to wipe it off the ash but realize they are burned bad, so much so that there's a small hole at the top. You let out a frustrated groan, you had been holding in all your frustration that you broke into a quiet sob.

*ding

you took a small breather and check your phone [9:05] was the time you see your sister texted you again

-Genni ! : baby sisss, come over

-y/n : okay omw.

10 minutes later

"Y/NNNN" your sister hugs you tightly. "Hi Gen-" she covers your mouth "shhh, get ready. Now." You let out a small giggle and start getting ready

[10:25pm] you and your sister put your small heels on, you can a black star shaped top with a black denim washed out skirt and strappy heels letting your spider hip tattoo show. You and your sister headed out.

"Let's fuck it up y/n" she lets out a small squeal when pulling up to the frat party, it was a huge party with a shit ton of freshman college students you included. "Yea let's fuck it up Genni" you let out a loud laugh and quickly get out the car with her, walking in you can tell people were hotboxing already and definitely not sober, a guy with bright red hair yells towards you and Genni as everyone was pretty loud "WELCOME TO THE FRAT BABES!!" you cringed at the name and at the fact his shirt said "hotter than your ex, better than your next"

The red head boy stepped closer towards you almost making you bump into other people while reeking of alcohol, weed, and sweat. You lose sight of your sister. "Your.. Y/N! The girl that said lee know smelled like shit!!" He clapped his hands while laughing hysterically, he pulls you closer "Your kinda.. Hot.. I'm Hyunjin" You move away quickly "And I'm not interested." Your so anxious you bump into someone making Hyunjin laugh again, you turn and saw a familiar figure..

"What the fuck Dumbass?!" Lee know says obviously not sober and now very pissed. You spilled some type of dark liquid on his shirt which was a white button down tucked into dark mudwash jeans with small stars at the bottom and a star buckle on his belt. "Who the fuck invited you." Lee know said sternly. You try to muster up the words but are unsuccessful. He grabs your wrist tightly making you wince he pulled you through the party basically dragging you to a bathroom.

You freeze when he starts to stare at you, his pupils were blown out and his eyes were very red. "What the fuck are you looking at ?? Are you gonna help clean me up by the mess you caused??" You quickly nodded almost pathetically making lee know scoff. "You really are a dumbass. Helping a random guy out who you don't even know what is capable of in a frat party's bathroom, really.?" You thought ,,fuck he's right,, "I-I don't know.." You look down somewhat embarrassed and slightly annoyed

"whatever bro.." Lee know starts running water in the sink trying to wash the drink out obviously not doing it right, you think ,,damn maybe he's the dumbass,, you lean over and turn the water hot to help actually wash it out making Lee know give you an upset, confused yet thankful look.

"Your the dumbass actually.." You let out a small giggle

A.N : Yes I know weird pt.1 I was thinking this can be a small 3-5 PT series! Lee know is rude but it's okay guys TT Please do not upload my works anywhere else this is my only acc and only app I will share my works on.

Like, repost and comment will be greatly appreciated! Thank you !

Taglist: @kissesmellow21

cmmt to be added to taglist!

[afyrian]

ch. 7 - january 25 masterlist

    rintarō taps his finger against his steering wheel, smiling to himself, "thanks again guys, honestly it was a great birthday."

  he turns off the car, holding his key in the palm of his hand. rin looks up at the apartment building and notices a light on in the front window. he shakes his head as the two brothers argue over who made his birthday the best. "well the food made the evening, right, suna?"

  "you know what would make my evening, us getting off the phone so i could go see y/n as she texted me earlier about a surprise," rin opens his car door, turning the phone off of speaker and bringing it up to his ear.

  "oh right, how's the whole married to your crush-since-childhood thing?" atsumu taunts him, his voice sarcastic and filled with a sense of humor.

  rintarō rolls his eyes, grabbing his wallet and locking the driver side door. truthfully, it's difficult. knowing that this marriage is only lasting because of some technicality, that it's not the emotion. he takes in a deep breath, "i've tried to tell her, i have. it's just hard. i mean, like what if it ruins the friendship."

  both of the twins stop their laughing and joking, hearing the truth in his voice. "the problem is is that if you don't, it may just make it more awkward. plus it's pretty easy to tell she's hardcore in love with you. when you guys came to check out the restaurant, she like couldn't keep her eyes off of you," osamu pipes in, his voice overpowering the embarrassment rin is already feeling.

  "you're right- you're right, it's just too daunting," he starts, walking up the stairs to the second floor, your door just a few steps away, "well, i'll talk to you guys later, i'm heading into the apartment."

  he turns off the phone, shoving it into his pocket before unlocking the front door. rintarō enters the front room and notices a mini cake sitting on the table. it has frosting covering it haphazardly, 'happy birthday honey' written in sloppy cursive. he smiles to himself, giving a short laugh as he looks around the room for you. 

  however, all he can see is your head peeking over the edge of the couch. it's tilted onto a cushion as the rest of your body sits limp in a deep sleep. he looks at you for a moment, noticing every freckle and spot that makes you unique. he smiles once more, juggling whether he should help you to bed or simply covering you up.

  rin purses his lips, turning to put away the cake first before deciding anything. he washes a few dishes, making sure that whatever flour and sugar dropped from the mixing bowl was wiped up. despite him cleaning everything up on his birthday evening, he can't help but feel happy. happy knowing you put in the effort to make his birthday amazing. 

  he puts the cake in a container, turning back to where you are, sprawled across a couch. your hair sits wildly and one of your socks are practically falling off of your foot. honestly, it's hard to say when you've looked more attractive than in this moment. the simplicity of it all, it's something rin has fallen in love with.

  instinctively, he brings one arm under the crook of your knees and the other behind your back, letting your arm rest over your shoulder. you mumble something under your breath along the lines of 'happy birthday rin'. 

  your quiet voice makes him scream internally until he sets you on your bed, pulling the sheets up over you. you take in a deep breath, stretching a little. he bites his lip, about to tip toe out of your room before you say something quietly. it's barely audible, but due to the quiet of the house, it echoes wildly through your ears.

  "birthday sleepover?" 

  he remembers the times the two of you would spend your whole birthdays together. from early in the morning til the following day. it hasn't happened since the two of you were in middle school, but hearing it sends a blush to his face. rintarō shakes his head a little, "you're just tired, we can eat the cake for breakfast."

  "please," your hand reaches out for him, wrapping your fingers around his. 

  rin can feel himself slipping from his common sense. the feeling of your fingers gripping onto his makes your heart beat quickly. "alright.. yeah, birthday sleepover," he walks over to the door, "just give me one moment."

  knowing that the smell of the bar likely is all over him, he quickly changes into a set of comfortable pajamas (making sure to not sleep shirtless). rintarō walks back into your room and lays on the opposite side of the bed. he lays over the sheets, turning his back to you so that he doesn't end up wrapping his arms around you in the middle of the night.

  he waits until he can hear you snoring lightly, you scooting a little closer to him until he quietly whispers, "i love you."

  rintarō knows that he doesn't have the courage to tell you when you're awake. watch every micro expression you show, waiting for a return or a rejection. he takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the darkness of night overtake him. sure it's not the most insane birthday he's ever had, but laying next to you, feeling you breathing. it's like nothing he could've asked for. 

  and throughout the night, somehow, the two of you find yourselves tangled together. your leg is crossed over his, his arm laying under your head. and whoever wakes up first won't say anything about it. they'll simply sit there for a moment and look down at the other with a smile ridden on their face. and maybe it isn't the most conventional, but it's the two of you, and you don't have to be conventional.

a/n: idk i kind of love this chapter

[eds6ngel]

what about Steve and readers first time? They’ve been talking about it for a while and they find a night where Alena can go over to robins and it’s super sweet. He planned a whole lil date with candles and they have super sweet lovey sex🥺

hi my loves!! you both requested similar ideas, so i've combined them both. hope you enjoy!! ♡

warnings: SMUT. afab!reader. fem!reader. dad!steve. 90s!au. swearing. unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it kiddos!!). fingering. oral (f receiving). lil bit of nipple play. tons of kissing. creampie. love bombs. pet names. they go to pound town, but it's sweet and lovey really :') [2.5k].

full 'when i kissed the teacher' masterlist.

You had just walked inside Steve’s small apartment from an amazing evening meal. Hand in hand, Steve stops you in the middle of the kitchen, pressing a kiss to your temple and whispering to you, “Wait here.”

He zooms off to his bedroom, the thought of the reason why lingering in your mind. The both of you hadn’t had sex with each other yet, your schedules simply too busy to tackle the task. Through joint decision, you agreed you wanted to make it special. You could’ve easily sneakily fucked after Alena went to bed one night, or attempted when she was outside playing with her neighbourhood friends.

But you didn’t just want to fuck, you wanted to make love.

He rushes back, panting a little, seemingly clamouring around his bedroom as he takes your hands, putting them over your eyes as he holds onto your arms from behind. “I’ll guide you. Just follow me.”

You seem to be taking steps forward, assumingly towards the secluded corner of the house, his own private space, a place he got to decorate to his heart’s content. A spot which wasn’t covered in a child-friendly book, toy, or painting.

He pulls you back by the arms, whispering out, “Okay, now open your eyes.” As your eyelids flutter open, you had never seen Steve’s room so… homely. Candles were laid out across various surfaces, including his closet, beside table and window ledge, flickering in the moonlight. But, the main attraction was the trail of rose petals, leading from the bedroom door to the bed, decorated in a pattern in the centre of the sheets, spelling out, “I love you.”

You gasp in shock, a smile creeping onto your face, “Steve, I—” You feel the warm palms of his hands lay on your hips, arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles your neck, pressing a trail of soft kisses over your freckled skin. You hum at the gesture, reaching your hand back to rake through his freshly-washed hair, the silkiness soon to be disheveled. “I don’t know what to say.”

“In a good way?” he asks, continuing to litter kisses, causing you to whimper when he slightly bites down on your skin, him already knowing what the answer would be.

“Of course in a good way, baby,” you sigh out, closing your eyes as your brain reels in on the feeling of his lips tugging on your skin. “Love it so much.”

A few, small bruises had already formed by the time he had parted from your neck, the proof of your boyfriend’s pleasure marked onto you. “Good. Now…” he begins, grabbing your hands, twirling you so that you face him. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, left hand remaining on your waist, “Let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

You nod, a little too eagerly perhaps, but nonetheless true. The kisses start off sweet, passionate, full of love. The feeling of Steve’s smooth lips upon your own send the same chills up your spine as the first time you kissed. No matter how long you’d been together, it always felt special.

Before long, the kisses became more heated. Steve guides you back towards the bed, lips never leaving your own as he lays you down onto the soft mattress, tongue entering your mouth as he basks in the taste. The linger of grape from your red wine invades his senses, the sweetness fitting the atmosphere of the situation, a perfect descriptor for your caring personality.

You pull his face away from yours, cupping his left cheek as you nip at his jaw, leaving love bites of your own, knowing Steve would have a hard time covering them up for his eleven o’clock shift tomorrow morning. You hear the sounds of soft whines escaping his mouth, the noise suddenly becoming your favourite thing in the world. Nothing else could compare to the moans of pleasure escaping his throat.

From your focus on his jaw, his hands slip under the fabric of your dress, the warmness of his palms brushing over the coolness of your bare skin. Parting from his jaw, you immediately wiggle out of your dress, the action seeming the least sexy thing in your mind, but the utmost in Steve’s.

Once your dress is discarded onto the floor, Steve ravels in the gorgeousness of your two-piece lingerie. A black lace, perfectly cupping your breasts, hugging in all the right places, accentuating your waist and hips. “Jesus doll, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he exhales, his eyes fluttering up and down your body.

You hide your face in your hands, the nickname sending butterflies straight to your stomach. “Y’like it?”

He gently removes your hands, placing a few kisses over your face. One on your forehead, one on your nose, and finally capturing your lips in his. “Very pretty, baby. Sexy, even. Beautiful. You just… You look amazing.”

Giggling, you tug that the ends of his shirt, slightly frailed from each wash it went through, as he un-buttons the first few, enough for him to easily slide the material over his head. Your eyes glisten as they take in his body. Slight faint ab-lines decorate his stomach, a section of dark, brown hair littering across his chest, broad shoulders to complete his beauty.

Your lips naturally gravitate towards his chest, placing tender pecks across the centre, trailing down to his stomach, your mouth never leaving his body. His hand glides through your hair, scrunching it as he softly moans, basking in the tenderness of your actions. And when you look up, it might’ve been the most gorgeous sight he had ever seen. The golden hue of the candles burns against the gradient of your face, eyes flickering in the honey dew light. You were perfection.

You grab at his belt, Steve too caught up in the pleasures of your kisses to notice. The sound of his belt clinking open makes him pull your hair back, leaning down and kissing you passionately, tongue entering your mouth. “I’ll do that, sweet girl. Just sit back and relax for me, ‘kay?”

Without a word, you fall back against the bedsheets, Steve reaching around to un-clasp your lace bra, tossing it into the growing pile consisting of his shirt and your dress. He delicately brushes his thumb over your hardened nipple, the tenderness making you shiver in sensitivity. Leaning down, he places small kisses to each of your boobs, swirling his tongue around your nipple before letting go with a pop. “Fuck, Steve.”

“Those pretty sounds f’me, angel?” he teases you, continuing his trail down your stomach, before wrapping his fingers underneath the sides of your panties. You nod in response, softly sighing out, “All for you, Steve. Always for you.”

“Legs up for me,” he soothingly says, you complying as he pulls your panties off, your glistening cunt now on full display.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters, pulling you slightly down towards him as he wraps his arms around your thighs. He takes one finger, sliding it through soaked folds, lifting it to his mouth and sucking off the juices he collected. He hums in content, staring you dead in the eye and seductively saying, “Think I need a better taste.”

Although, through the sexual desire, you can see he’s audibly waiting for a confirmation, to which you whine out, “Please, Steve. Put your mouth on me.”

“Good girl,” he replies, gripping your thighs tightly, as if you were to escape him. He licks a stripe directly up your cunt, your hands immediately grabbing his hair, head held back and eyes squeezed shut as you bask in the pleasures of his mouth.

If you had to compare Steve to your previous boyfriends, he definitely came out on top. From the feeling of his mouth sucking and licking on your clit, to the way he was purposely squeezing your thighs, desperate to leave a mark, you could easily decipher that he was an expert at eating pussy.

“Holy fuck,” you whine out, Steve beginning to shake his head from side to side, the wet sounds coming from your cunt sounding so incredibly lewd. You were heading towards the edge, the peak of your pleasure, Steve knowing exactly how to maximise your enjoyment, as if you had been having sex for years. He pushes his middle finger directly into your hole, curling it in just the perfect way to send you to heaven.

You loudly moan, your vision going white, legs shaking in Steve’s arms as you hear him murmur quietly in the distance, his voice seeming so far away, “That’s it, baby. So pretty for me.”

You slowly come back down to reality, your eyes opening to the sight of Steve’s face glistening in your juices, dripping down his chin as he climbs back up to you, joining you in a heartfelt kiss, the taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Steve lets out a giggle as he leans his head down into the crook of your shoulder, placing a delicate kiss as he mumbles, “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You join his giggling, soft sighing out with a smile, “Felt the most beautiful too.”

He leans up, his body too desperate to take the restraints any longer as he discards of his pants and boxers, his lengthy cock dripping with pre-cum, aching to be used. You’re about to sit up, reaching out as Steve places his hand on your chest, silencing you with yet another kiss. “My pretty girl. Just rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

Complying, he glides his cock up and down your folds, collecting your slick, before sliding in, both of you basking in pleasure through groans and moans. His eyebrows draw together as he hisses, gripping onto your waist as his mouth opens wide, “Fuck, y’feel so fucking good.”

From your end, there’s a slight ache, as there always is, but it soon fades into pleasure. You mewl over the feeling of his cock gliding against your walls, creating a delightful throbbing inside of you. Steve leans over you, pushing himself even deeper as he fills you to the brim, pressing his forehead against yours, whispering out, “You ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you eagerly nod, Steve pulling all the way out, before slamming back in, not worrying about the harshness of his thrust. He quickly builds up a fast and hard steady pace, the room warming up from the heated energy of your pleasure. Between kisses, Steve is grunting into your ear, his toned arms wrapped around the back of your head, cradling you towards his chest. You can’t help but dig your fingertips down his back, leaving light scratches that only you would know about.

Your arms move to his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible, Steve mumbling out, “Love you. Love you so— shit — so fucking much, baby. You were fucking made for me.”

As he sucks more hickeys into your neck, biting and nipping at your already bruised skin, you whine out between pants, “Made for you, Steve. Never letting you go. You’re all mine, ah fuck—”

And although his pace was deep and hard, there was so much love in every thrust he made. After spending so long pining after you for almost a year, here you were, in his arms, becoming intertwined with his body. The sound of your bodies slapping together juxtaposed the absolute tenderness of love he was giving to you.

Changing the angle of his hips, you feel a pleasure like no other, something your body had never experienced before. You wrap your legs around his back, somehow pulling him even deeper into you, Steve feeling the warm fanning of your breath delicately against his shoulder. The new angle allowed for his pubic hair to harshly graze across your clit, the intensity increasing by the second.

Steve can tell you are close, from the vice grip of your cunt around his cock, to your high-pitched moaning, whines becoming more light and delicate as you floated higher and higher to the peak. Babbling between sighs, you say, “Need to cum. Please let me cum, Stevie. Love you so much, please.”

The use of the nickname ‘Stevie’ makes him falter for a few seconds, his hips stuttering, trying his hardest not to cum before you would. “Yeah, let go for me, honey. Need to feel it. M’close too. C’mon, baby.”

You let out a whine into his shoulder, tears beginning to stream your cheeks as your hair sticks to your forehead. You wraps your arms tightly around his neck, fists scrunched up in a ball as you let go, your orgasm crashing over you in waves, legs shaking against the back of his waist. Steve continues to plow into you through your release, your cunt gripping him securely as his pace begins to falter.

You can’t say a word, even after your orgasm has ended, your pussy becoming sensitive as Steve blabbers out “I love you” over and over again. Your eyes remained closed, body slumped against his shoulder as you hear him groan into your ear, his cock lightly throbbing within you as you remain above the clouds. Ropes of cum stick to your inner walls, filling you to the brim as Steve cradles your head, his body shaking on top of you.

As he comes down from his high, he all but falls on top of you, body spent from absolute pleasure. He pulls your head out of his shoulder, gently caressing your cheek as your eyes remain shut. “Wakey wakey,” he jokes, a lop-sided grin spreading on your face as you sigh. You were truly spent, Steve slowly pulling out of you, a pool of cum following as he heads to the bathroom, grabbing a soft flannel and gently cleaning you up.

He adds it into the clothes pile, laying beside you as he places tender kisses along your shoulder, turning your body so that you face him. “Can I see those pretty eyes?”

You hum, fluttering open your heavy lids, your body trying its hardest to resist the action. “Hi,” you say with a giggle.

“Hi,” he replies, moving your hair from out of your face, strands sticking to your forehead, “Think I wore you out there.”

You scoot closer to him, closing your eyes once more as you bury your head into his hairy chest, mumbling out, “Need a nap now.”

He chuckles in response, pressing a kiss to your forehead, stroking the back of your head, “Okay honey, you rest up. I love you.”

And as you fade off into the unknown, you murmur out an “I love you too,” before slipping into the depths of sleepiness.

Steve hugs you tightly against his chest, feeling the absolute love, warmth and radiance emitting from you. The moonlight bathes in through the blinds, settling perfectly across your face, creating a luminous glow that reflected your emotional state. He felt lucky. Lucky that he got to spend tonight with you, treating you to the luxury of a meal, the luxury of pleasure, and the utmost luxury of making you his. You were now one, and that was the most beautiful thing he could ever have.

hope you enjoyed!! i will be closing requests for this series soon (as i want to focus on other characters for a little while) so get them in before the end of the week!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @starkeylover @frostandflamesfanfic @tlclick73 @steveshairspray (if you aren't tagged like you normally are, it's because there's no specification if you are over 18 on your blog. if you are a minor, please do not interact with this spinoff in the series!!)

taglist if anyone wants to add themselves (for all characters!!)

[viburnt]

Midoriya I.|| Childhood promises

Type: Headcanons+Snippet

Genre: Fluff

Characters involved: Midoriya Izuku (main)/Uraraka Ochaco (secondary on the reading bite)

Prompt: As kids, Izuku gifted you a plastic ring and told you he'd marry you in the future. Now it's a recurrent joke to call each other fiancé.

• It happened when Izuku was 7; the street fair was nearby and his mom had given him some money to spend with you on treats and games. He was so excited, his hand timidly holding yours as the hanging lights guided your way

• One of the stands had caught his attention: it was a lucky duck pond, one of those games where you need to catch two different rubber duckies with the same number to win. 3 chances, no skills involved.

• “Do you think if we get our lucky charms together, we could win a prize?” The lucky charms in question were an All Might collectible card and a snail shell you found at the park.

• The freckled boy was enthusiastic about it, confidently paying the old man running the game a couple of silver coins to play. His hands gently lowered the small fishnet provided to play. First number: 3.

• Izuku could hear you rooting for him by his side. All he had to do was get another one like that. Sticking his tongue out, praying to his All Might card, he sank the net once more. Second number: 9.

• He felt like crying.

• You patted his hand in a comforting way, threatening the nearby kids who mocked him. “Hey, let me try!”

• The result was the same, sadly. However, the old man was touched by you two that he gave out a consolation prize to lift your spirits. It was a plastic jewelry set: a silver crown, a magic wand and a couple of rings.

• The path back home didn't feel so bad after that.

• “At least the rings are pretty, do you think we could wear them at school?” You said, making Midoriya think. “But aren't matching rings for marriage? My mom says so.”

• After a brief silence, Izuku's green eyes lit up, feeling a slight wave of nervousness as the words rolled out of his mouth. “Then I'll marry you! W-we can wear them until we grow up and then get m-married!”

• Your face felt warm as you heard him speak, feeling his hand eagerly placing the silver ring on your left hand.

• Ever since, neither of you take the plastic piece off, even if it's old and the colors washed out. Not to mention that the whenever you see each other, the word “Fiancé/Fiancée” rolls out of your mouths.

—Hi! If you have a moment, I'm looking for a person. Do you think you can help me?

Ochako heard with attention as you spoke, tilting his head at the style you sported. Compared to the gray uniform and green tie U.A students wore, your clothes were more of an Eastern streetwear.

—Uh, sure thing! Who are you looking for?— The brunette said with a sympathetic smile. —Are they from 1st year or 2nd?

—Izuku Midoriya, 1st year!— The name popped out of your mouth, catching Uraraka's interest.

—Really? He is from my class! I'll take you there.— She offered, making you feel relieved. —Are you from his family or something? I don't think he mentioned any siblings or cousins.

You snorted a little, deciding to play a little with the round-faced girl.

—He is my fiancé! I came to visit him.

The way Ochako's jaw dropped almost had you rolling on the floor laughing, but for the sake of your little joke, you kept a straight face.

—Fiancé?— Her voice stuttered. You nodded, showing off the little plastic ring you always carried. —Since when? How did that happen?

You tapped on your chin as if thinking.

—Since kids, we promised each other. We'll be hitting it off as soon as he graduates.

Uraraka couldn't hide her shock.

—Oh, there you are! I see you've met one of my classmates already.— Izuku's voice popped in, joining the conversation as he walked towards you. —Did you have trouble finding the classroom building?

Ochako's finger pointed at him and then to you. It didn't take much for Midoriya to connect the dots.

—You just had to tell her, didn't you?— He muttered, eyeing you with an embarrassed face. — Uraraka, let me explain…

—Wanna come to the wedding?

Like my content? Comment and follow! The feedback encourages me.

[sharkie-writes0]

Remember me?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Eddie is a metal star living in New York and needed a bite to eat. It doesn’t get awkward until he runs into his past

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The streets of New York City were busy. Even at night. Of course the thousands of people taking pictures weren’t helping.

Eddie had just gotten done with his gig at Webster hall and decided to take a late night walk to get fresh air after being stuck, sweaty and gross on a stage for three hours. He was still wearing his outfit from the show, a pair of baggy cargo pants with his bandana tucked into his back pocket and his cuffs hanging off one of his belt loops, a cropped re designed version of the hellfire logo, a fishnet shirt under that and his hair up in a bun to get the sweat off his neck.

Even if the streets were busy he didn’t mind. Walking past shop after shop he’d look through the windows to see what kind of stuff they were selling. A sports memorabilia store selling sport cards and merch like hats and jerseys. A little yarn shop filled with different textures and colors. A subway shop that he desperately wanted to stop into and he would if he hadn’t forgotten his wallet.

Staring through the subway window he saw the cashier making their customer the desired sandwich. He watched as he, somewhat, skillfully put the cheese and meat onto the bread, taking some bacon and putting it in their weird microwave. Eddie’s stomach growled and as it did he remembered about Apple Pay. He had about $73 dollars left on there so he walked in and hoped they took tap.

Waiting in line he heard the door ring signaling someone had entered. Hearing their footsteps stomp behind him and a sharp breath was taken. As the line slowly moved forward, Eddie could hear the aforementioned guy behind him put his phone up to his ear as the ringing became muffled.

He heard the guy start to whisper to the recipient on the phone, curious but not enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. The few people in front of him had came and left and it was soon his turn. He wrapped up his order with a foot long, a cookie, chips and a drink. The took his phone out and got Apple Pay ready when the man that was behind him, now next to him, spoke.

“I’ll pay for it man” a deep voice had spoken up beside him.

The sound of gravelly morning voice made Eddie jolt. Taking him back to Hawkins. Laying in bed with…

“Steve” he said softly, his heart beating ten times faster than it was.

He turned his head to meet Steve’s eyes. Still brown like firewood after the flames have been put out. His hair had changed. What was once tall and fluffy, helped by Farrah fawcet spray, was now laying beside his cheeks with the tips dyed blue. He had gotten more freckles since the last time he saw him.

The last time Eddie had seen anyone really. He had left in the middle of the night to go with his band mates to start his dream job. No one knew he was gonna leave, he knew they’d make a big fuss about it and a part of him couldn’t stand the look that would have been on Steve’s face when he said he’d be leaving.

The cashier broke the long silence between them “so, which one of you is going to pay? There’s a line forming”

Steve walked up to the register and handed the man his card, not taking his eyes off Eddie.

“Been a bit hasn’t it” Steve said. Finally tearing his eyes away from Eddie to look literally anywhere else.

“Yeah. A bit” Eddie replied, a wave of guilt washing over him

“Seven years is a long time” Steve whispered, taking his card back from the cashier “and you never called” he said before walking out.

Eddie chased after him and caught his arm. Pulling him back

“I wanted to call! I really did but I knew you’d be mad at me. Just like you are now! I’m so so sorry Stevie.” He said feeling tears well in his eyes.

“Don’t call me that” Steve snapped “you lost that privilege when you left and didn’t say anything. Not even a note Eddie! You have no clue how hurt and worried I was about you. It wasn’t until rob had said she saw you on television that I knew you had left us. That you had left me” tears had started to slip from Steve’s eyes and Eddie desperately wanted to place his hand on steves cheek like he used to and kiss them away.

“I know stevi- Steve. I know. And I’m so incredibly sorry. I wish there was some way I could make it up to you.” Eddie had sighed and let go of Steve’s arm “but unless you let me, there’s no way I can fix what I did”

There was a silence. The sound of cars rushing by was the only thing that was heard between the two.

Steve broke the silence and said “you can start by coming home with me”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

WELL that took such a long time. I want to start making longer stories and maybe continuous parts. Should I make a second part

And please any advice on writing or tips are appreciated as I’m still new to this.

Hope you liked it!