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theycallmemisterbutterfingers · 5 months

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Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places. Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone.

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry.

Well.

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God.

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment.

Guilt.

Horrible, horrible guilt.

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good.

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel.

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light.

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth.

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard.

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him.

His angel. His Az—hm.

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale.

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel.

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped.

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely,

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again.

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly.

And Crowley broke.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body.

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face.

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

112 notes · View notes

unlikelynutperson · 2 years

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|| there is a distinct lack of Steve fanfiction and I need to change that || this was way longer than I ever anticipated

if there's a spelling/grammar mistake, no there isn't - ignore it.

Stress Toy

Sub!Steve (The Owl House) x Dom!GN!Reader || smut, non-specific hole penetration, gentle and a little bit sleepy, Dom!Reader, Sub!Steve, pet names, thigh humping(?), established relationship, reader can be witch or human, a sprinkling of my Steve hcs, grinding, hj, fingering, praise, hair pulling, Gus x Mattholomule (MENTIONED), begging, does this count as cuddle fucking?, slight breeding kink (Steve), cockwarming(?)

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

It had been a long day...

A VERY long day.

Steve's muscles ached and his head pounded and he was almost certain he could feel his bones. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to but it hurt none-the-less!

It must have been the early hours of the morning when he finally got home but all he cared about was stripping out of his uniform and crawling into bed for a few hours of sleep, at least.

The moment he opened the front door of the small house, Steve autopiloted to his bedroom. Stripping down to his briefs, the coven scout flopped into his bed and--

"Ow."

Huh?

Steve peeked his eyes open to look at where the noise came from: beside him.

Did he accidentally go to Matt's room? No, Steve could traverse the house in his sleep (and he had!). Was he hearing things? Likely, but the voice was too clear and sounded an awful lot like--

"Welcome home, Stevie," a figure sits up and just before he can panic-cast a spell, a warm hand touches his bare back.

Steve hisses a little as a small ball of light shines in his tired eyes. Adjusting to the light, he can see who cast it (and who's lying in his bed with him).

"(Y/N)?"

"Morning, baby."

"Hhnnggg," Steve snuggles his face into his lover's lap, arms wrapping around their waist, "turn the light off pleeeeaaaase"

Steve's head jostled with the movement of (Y/N)'s light chuckles.

"Don't worry, Stevie, I got you," the room goes dark once more and the tired witch digs his head further into the warm lap beneath him. "Ah- mmff-- Stevie, baby- Horn."

"Huh?" Steve lifts his head from where it was lying, very comfortably might he add. "Oh. Right. 'M sorry, baby." Steve mumbles before adjusting himself so his face presses into the side of (Y/N)'s stomach.

(Y/N) lies back down and adjusts themselves to drape their arms over his shoulders, rubbing meaningless patterns into his sore back muscles, smoothing over the scar-covered skin (from both battle and acne).

In the process of moving themselves, (Y/N) ""accidentally"" brushed their knee over Steve's crotch. With his sensitive everywhere and little more than the thin fabric of his boxer briefs separating them from skin on skin contact, the scout found his hips seeking slow and gentle stimulation against his lover's thigh.

"Steve, sweetie, you need to sleep while you can" (Y/N) giggles lightly at their boyfriend's desperation.

"I know but you're so warm and soft and I haven't seen you in ages," Steve slowly lifts his head to look (Y/N) in the eyes, choosing to ignore the fact his are half-lidded and feel heavy. "Who even let you in the house? It wasn't Mattie, was it? He'll give me shit about that later."

"Hehehe, no, baby. Your mom let me in. Matt's gone to a friend's place. Gus, I think?"

"Ah, his boyfriend. Good. Means more time with you." Steve starts to grind his hips harder into the thigh between his legs.

Lifting a hand to stroke the back of Steve's neck, right on his nape where short hairs blend out to skin, (Y/N) giggles.

"Stevie--"

"Mmm~"

"Steve-"

"Ah-- Oh... fffu~~ ck."

"Babe--"

"Fuck! please--"

A hand firmly grasps at the longer strands of Steve's hair and pulls, forcing his face upwards.

"Mmmmmh~ please. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease," Steve's hips grind faster as his pleas get more desperate, "please. I'll be good, I swear. I-"

"I know you'll be good for me, baby, but you're tired. You have scout duties later today, you need the sleep."

Stroking his hair, (Y/N) coaxes Steve to lay his head back down atop of them. A large, rough hand comes to grip (Y/N)'s hip as the scout switches up the position - bringing (Y/N)'s legs over his thighs so he can grind on them properly.

"Steve, baby." And the scout just knows he's about to be scolded and so just lets as many believable half-truths out as he can manage with his overtired, overworked and lust addled brain.

"Please! Ah-- I've got the- hnng~ I've got late patrol. My-- My shift won't start till 12.30. Please, baby. I need you--"

"You promise you'll sleep afterwards?"

"Yes! Yes. Yes. Yes. Any-- oh~ anything. Anything for you~~"

"Do you think you can hold on while I prep us, baby?"

"Mmhmm~~~" Steve nods his head into (Y/N)'s stomach.

"Can you use your words, Stevie?"

The scout lifts his head to look his lover in the eyes as he nods enthusiastically, hands gripping at (Y/N)'s hips tighter.

"Yes. I can wait. Just please--"

"Take your briefs off for me, baby. Can you do that?"

Steve sits up on to his knees as quickly as his sore back muscles allow, reaching for the elastic hem of his boxer briefs and pulling them down as far as he could get them.

Cock flopping upwards, smearing precum just below his bellybutton - Steve's hands flex as he resists the urge to start stroking it and looks back up at (Y/N).

The view he's met with makes all previous attempts to not touch his dick completely invalid. On their knees reaching over the edge of the single bed, ass framed in cute little shorts that hug the skin as they bend at the waist, thighs on full display.

...Steve is but a man...

Grabbing the head of his cock, Steve uses the precum he's leaked (and is still leaking) to lube himself while staring at (Y/N)'s gorgeous frame.

Tossing his head back, the witch closes his eyes, imagining what he'd do to his lover. If only he weren't so tired! Or sore! He could just reach over, finger them open and listen to their heavenly moans before he replaces his fingers with---

"Ah ah ah, Stevie. Hand. Off your dick. Now."

A frustrated groan escapes the back of his throat as he complies.

A hand touches the side of his face, running their fingers along the bumpy, acne-scarred surface and Steve leans into the touch. Slowly opening his eyes, the scout is met with (Y/N) staring lovingly at him.

They run their fingers up to his horn, rubbing the base of it. Steve's hips buck forward as his eyes close in pleasure. It's not like his horn is an erogenous zone - it's just pleasant.

Steve hums in the back of his throat as (Y/N)'s other hand runs through his hair gently.

"Ah~♡!" The hand in his hair is suddenly not gentle and instead grabs the brown locks, pulling his head back.

"You told me you could wait." (Y/N) is scolding him.

"I- Hnnnnnn~ I'm- I'm- I'm so-- Oh~♡! I'm sorry!"

"Ssshhh, shshshshsh. Quiet, baby," Their lips come to his neck, kissing up and down the length, teasing the spot just below his ear where he likes it most, "I'll give you what you want but I'm gonna punish you a little bit, is that okay?"

Steve nods as best he can with the hand still in his hair. (Y/N) pulls away from his neck, moving their hand back to resting on his jaw, fingers pressing on the bruise just below his ear.

"Words, sweetie. You gotta tell me what you want with your words."

"I- I can take it. You can punish me. Just- Touch-- Touch me. Please."

"I'm already touching you. Where do you want me to touch?"

Oh fuck. This was so embarrassing. Steve whined, facing his head down so he wouldn't have to look his lover in the face asked for this.

"Come on, Stevie~ I'm not gonna know what you want if you don't tell me."

Was this his punishment for being impatient? It felt like it was.

"My--- Can you please touch my-- Nnnnnngggh~ Do I have to say it? You already know what I want!" Looking back up at (Y/N), he could see now that they wore a smug little smile on their face.

"I can only guess what you want, baby. You have to tell me so I know I'm right. So, yes. You do have to tell me."

Steve flops his head onto their shoulder with a groan.

Maybe if I can't see them it'll be easier

"My... My cock. Want you to touch my cock. Please."

(Y/N)'s hand leaves where it's teasing his jaw and wraps it around the base of Steve's dick. The pleasant feel of a hand rubbing the sensitive skin at the base of his horn and dick has the scout reaching for (Y/N)'s waist, squeezing them.

When Steve goes to thrust into the warm tight feel around his penis, it leaves.

"Huh? Wh--Why? I told you what I wanted. I was good-"

"Yes, such a good boy for me," a kiss is placed to his temple, "but I don't want you doing any of the work. You're tired and your muscles are so tense, surely it hurts. You just tell me want and I'll give it to you."

"Mmmnnn~~~♡"

"How do you want me to touch your cock, Stevie?"

"Rub it. Please~♡"

"Do want my hand or my mouth to rub it?"

"Fuuuuuuuck. Don't give me options!"

"Okaaaaay~~ Do you want me to talk to you while I touch you?"

A beat passes. If (Y/N) gave him a hand job, they could call him a good boy again. But if they use their mouth, they could touch him more. Of course, the ideal solution to this problem would be to actually fuck them and then he could hear them moa---

"You'll get to fuck me, don't worry. I just wanna know if i should use lube on you or not."

...

"If- If you," Steve lifts his head from where he was hiding in (Y/N)'s shoulder, "If you give me a handjob... Can- Can I-- finger you? Please?"

The blue of Steve's eyes seems to glow in the darkness as he asks... It could also be how immensely horny he is but that's beside the point.

(Y/N) gets a smug look back on their face after getting over the surprise how bold their boyfriend just was. Leaning in to whisper in his ear, they pop they cap open on the lube they had pulled out of the bedside drawer.

"You wanna finger me open while I play with your cock, baby? Want me to moan in your ear how good you make me feel?"

"Ooooooh fffuuuuuuck~~~~♡!" A cool, lubed hand wraps around the tip of Steve's dick as he melts into a pleasure puddle underneath his partner.

A few strokes up and down his penis and Steve is gone, completely forgetting that he had asked (Y/N) if he could touch them.

"Baby," the strokes slow to a near stop, "thought you were gonna get me ready for you? I already lubed your hand for you. Does it feel that good?"

"Huh?" Looking at his hand, it is, in fact, wet with lube.

When did they do that?

"'M sorry. Feels so good~~ Aah~♡," Steve slides a wet finger into (Y/N), "Nngh~ Can't wait to be inside you~♡"

"Patience, baby. Gotta get more than one finger in me first."

Steve opens his eyes (when did they close?) and lifts his head to look at (Y/N), leaning in just enough that his lips brush theirs, silently asking permission.

(Y/N) leans the rest of the way in, licking at Steve's bottom lip. Steve let's his tongue meet his lover's and in a short moment, (Y/N) has him pinned to the matress - their tongues dancing in each other's mouths.

A second finger slides into (Y/N) and they speed up the strokes on his cock as Steve starts to pump his fingers.

"Ah--Aaaah~~♡! (Y--Y/N)! Please!"

(Y/N) moves to kiss Steve's neck again, their fingers rubbing harder at his horn as they play with his cock.

"Mmmmmh~♡ Good boy. So--So good for me~~"

With a final kiss to the scout's lips, (Y/N) pulls back to sit up, straddling Steve's thighs.

"You think I'm ready for you, Stevie?"

"Titan, I hope so~~~ Need you~"

(Y/N) gently guides Steve's fingers out of themselves and holds his hand, intertwining their fingers with their boyfriend's wet ones.

They back off slowly, coaxing Steve to sit up, before laying down against the nest of pillows, draping their legs over Steve's thighs. The coven scout follows and connects his lips with (Y/N)'s.

"Go on, Stevie. You've waited so long. You deserve it."

The coven scout presses kisses along (Y/N)'s neck as he guides his cock to their entrance.

"Thank you~ Thank you, baby. So wonderful. So gorgeous. Thank you~"

Steve mumbles sweet words and praises into their shoulder, lightly nibbling at the skin as the head of his dick slides in their hole.

Taking a moment to regain his composure so he doesn't immediately bust a nut, Steve slowly pushes himself into (Y/N), tiny moans and whimpers shared between them, hands holding each other tightly as they lay against the pillows.

The lovers lay there for a minute or two once Steve bottoms out, simply taking in the feel of the other's body against their own.

"You okay, Stevie?"

"Mmhm~ Trying to not bust my load immediately."

"Ah. I had to make you didn't fall asleep on me."

"How could I ever fall asleep with you constantly squeezing my cock." For emphasis, Steve gives a little thrust.

"Aaah~ Hehehe~~♡ You like how I make your dick feel that much?"

"Mhm~~~~♡ Fuck, baby♡!" Another little thrust.

And another.

And at this point, Steve is just desperately rutting into (Y/N). He doesn't dare pull out too far, not wanting to leave the warm, wet hole he's fucking into.

Both lovers lie in an entanglement of limbs, humping and moaning against each other. Steve let's go of (Y/N)'s hands in favour of grabbing their waist to pull them back down onto his dick.

(Y/N) hands grab at Steve's head, pulling his face into their chest - one hand grabbing his horn, the other running through his hair and gripping at the tousled locks when Steve hits a particular spot within them.

"Oooh~~♡! Fuck, baby! Touch me. Touch me, Stevie. Please~♡!"

Steve reaches down and follows through with his lover's demands.

"AaahAahAh~~~♡! Please! Oh fuck~♡ Feel so good~~~ 'm gonna cum. (Y/N). Please ♡! Needa cummmmm~"

"Sa-AaahAh~~♡ Same, baby! Come here. Cum with with me, okay ♡?"

The hand caressing his horn moves to his jaw, pulling his head up and into a kiss.

"Mph! Mm~~Mmh♡ Mmmmm~~~♡!"

It only takes one, two, three more well placed thrusts in (Y/N)'s hole to have Steve cumming, hips rutting as his seed fills his lover.

But he keeps moving his hand and even continues his thrusts after he's cum, pushing himself into overstimulation, just to have (Y/N) cum while his cock is inside so he can feel every throb of raw pleasure that pulsates through their body.

"Mmmmm~~~~♡"

The two part lips, a string of thick saliva still connecting their tongues.

"Thank you, (Y/N). I needed that. I love you so so much." The scout kisses along (Y/N)'s jawline and down their neck.

"I love you too, Stevie. Wanna go get cleaned up?"

Steve pushes his dick seemingly deeper in retaliation to thought of having to leave the comfortable warmth of his partner.

"Nngh~~ Steve, we're gonna be all sticky and gross when wake up."

A sleepy mumble passes the scout's lips as he let's tiredness weigh down his eyelids.

"Don' care. Wanna stay... inside you. Keep you full."

(Y/N) feels their entire body warm in a flush of embarrassment and pure love for the dumb himbo that is their boyfriend.

Closing their eyes, (Y/N) wraps their arms over Steve's shoulders, patting his hair as they both fall into a deep sleep.

A gentle snoring fills the room.

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