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loveshotzz · 5 months

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We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut

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4izawas · 19 days

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╰─▸ ❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄! ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐋. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him with a raised eyebrow while your lips quirk up into a smile.

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: hazbin hotel | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: lucifer morningstar/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 2.57k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem reader, dom reader, dom fem reader, sub lucifer, bottom lucifer, manipulative reader ( i have awoken an obsession in writing them i’m afraid ), reader is longtime friends with alastor, mentions of alastor, reader is ‘the seamstress’ overlord, lucifer crawls across the floor like once? maybe twice, oral ( fem receiving ), begging, brief master kink, whining, some degradation, praise kink, lucifer is 100% being a Good Boy, leg humping, self-inflicted overstimulation, and he WHIMPERS, crying, lucifer’s just a needy lil guy tbh.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: i have fallen into a rabbit hole </3 | 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃!— @mrskreideprinz. @p-ersus. @herohibiscus. @vampcubus.

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Breathy whines and whimpers echo through the dimly lit room, the flickering flame of candles catching on the deep red wine in the glass you’re holding with your non-dominant hand. The other is currently being lavished with needy, borderline worshipful kisses, your wrist tightly gripped by the man you’d had wrapped around your pinkie finger for the last five or so years. After being abandoned by his beloved wife and his sweet little daughter, he had been a mess — a mess a long-standing overlord like yourself had been quick to clean up and turn into something else, something more. Playing the concerned friend with ‘hidden feelings’ had been more than easy ( whether or not those falsified feelings had festered into something real was for you to know, and for you to know only ), and you’d had him eating out of your hand faster than even you had expected. After only two years he’d removed Lilith’s ring, and a month after that he’d begged for yours, which of course you’d accepted. You’d helped run the kingdom in his name ever since while he lavished you with attention and tended to his silly little hobbies. Your empire had expanded from a simple series of shops in every Ring that clothed the upper class to a behind-the-scenes Queen of the nation; typically you’d have celebrated with your oldest friend, but he’d disappeared after a tie-up with the Media Demon, and you’d not heard from or of him since. Briefly you’d worried he’d succumbed to his injuries, but then waved them away; little could injure Alastor, and no mobilized television screen would be able to kill him. Once he needed your services as his only tailor again he’d return, and you could demand and receive answers from him then. Until that time, your time was split between all of Hell, the whims of Rosie, and of course the dim-witted desperate King you called your own.

Alastor would be proud, if not envious, of the web you’d weaved across Pride, if you did say so yourself.

With one leg you push Lucifer away, planting the ball of one of your feet against his bare chest and making him fall back onto his calves, kneeling before you just as he belonged. He whines at the loss of skin contact when you withdraw your foot, but you ignore him, pondering; honestly he’d been far too easy to shape, so much so that it was almost disappointing at first, but his resolve and desperation to please had been more than entertaining. Every moment he kept by your side made your power grow, and considering the abandonment issues that ran rampant like poison beneath his skin, eating away at his brain and filling him with anxiety, that meant you were never alone for more than a few hours. If you weren’t steadily growing stronger, you’d have questioned if the clinginess were at all worth it.

“Please — Please, let me… Please…” The soft whimpers from the floor in front of you catch your attention instantly, and you gaze down at the mess of a man before you. His hair — typically so well-managed — hangs messily over his eyes, and his wings flare out behind him, the massive feathered limbs twitching every now and then as he holds himself back from touching you without permission; the kissing had been reward enough for the necklace he’d surprised you with at breakfast, even if he wanted more. To get more, he had to earn it.

“Do you know any words other than ‘please’?” you ask, amused by the sight of the puddle of an angel before you as well as his vastly shrunken vocabulary. He’s on his knees before you, eyes wanting and voice thick as he begs, and it does nothing but feed the raging warmth in your lower abdomen. In control though you may be, the King of Hell would get what he wanted before the night was through; after all, how could you deny someone who was being such a good boy?

“I know whatever words you want me to say,” he promises in a whine, “What do you want me to say? To ask? I’ll do it, I promise.” You know he will; when has he ever not done what you ask? Never.

“You’ll be good?” You ask, raising an eyebrow as you sip your wine, and he whimpers and nods, hands fisting and unfisting around nothing as he continues fighting the urges to grip at you like a drowning man clings to a life preserver. You fight off the urge to laugh; he was just so pathetic, you couldn’t help but feel fond of him. There was just something about sorry men on their knees that did it for you every time, and the King of Hell was no exception.

“S-So good,” he moans shakily, his pupils dilating as you crook a finger in his direction as the smallest invitation. He crawls on all fours closer to you before leaning his head against the warm skin of the inside of your thigh, nuzzling against you before hiding his eyes against it. “I will, I — I…” Fuck, he couldn’t even think — exactly how you liked him. His breathing is picking up, getting heavier than before — he’s getting all worked up, and you haven’t even properly touched him yet.

You cross your legs tightly, displacing him, and a questioning noise falls from his lips. “Mmm… Ask me for permission,” you purr, and you watch his pupils slowly dilate and his eyes fill with a fresh surge of want.

“F-Fuck, okay — C-Can I? Please, can I?” he asks, a pleading tone in his voice that has you clenching around nothing.

“Can you what?” you ask, turning to study your fingernails lazily after taking your last drink of wine, putting the glass on the table next to where you were sitting. He lets out a noise of complaint, demanding your attention be put back on him, and you acquiesce easily; you could certainly give in to one or two of his requests, wordless or otherwise, considering he’d be begging to bury himself in your cunt before the night was out.

He trembles, barely holding himself back from descending upon you like a starved man would a meal. “Can I touch you? I want to taste you, wanna make you feel good, please—“

You narrow your eyes and fight off the smile making the corners of your lips twitch; you can’t smile yet, it would ruin all the fun. “Who are you asking, Lucifer?”

“Fuck. Fuck. Master, I’m-!” he whimpers, and you raise an eyebrow in silence, watching as he bites down hard on his bottom lip before asking, “Please, Master, can I lick your pussy?”

Your heartbeat quickens. “Hmmm…” you squint slowly at him, as if pondering the thought for the sole sake of teasing him, and he plants a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee before looking up at you, asking silently for the permission he felt he needed.

“Please?” he begs again, and you smile finally, watching the way his ruby eyes light up with barely-contained excitement.

“It’s alright with me,” you purr softly, uncrossing and spreading your legs for him. He lunges forward, curling his forearms under the backs of your thighs and burying his face in your cunt immediately. He’s sloppy as he eats you out, drooling from the taste and excitement, and you sigh happily as you relax into the couch cushions. The man was ever-so-talented with his tongue, you’d discovered years ago, and his favorite hobby was to lie between your legs as often and long as you would let him — and oh, would you let him. All he wanted to do was please you, to ensure your comfort and make sure you never wanted to leave him, and a while your pity for him turned into a soft fondness that urged you to acquiesce to some of his more romanticized fancies, which was why the two of you had had a lovely dinner tonight before you’d led him by his red tie to your shared bedroom.

“Fuck,” you groan, letting your head fall back at the same time as you close your eyes and bury your free hand in his feather-soft hair, drawing him deeper into your core and coaxing a moan from him at the sensation of his hair being pulled a little. “That’s it, sweet boy — more tongue, just a little more… What a good boy you are…”

Your hips roll up into his learned tongue at the same time that you catch your own bottom lip between your teeth and grab at one of your breasts lazily, kneading it in time with each swirl of his tongue against you. A shaky string of words into your cunt that you faintly recognize as whiny pleas for you to love him and stay with him forever only stimulate you more, the vibrations making your hips jump up. A small bump against your leg goes ignored the first time, as well as the second, but the third catches your attention and you open your eyes and look down to see him grinding against your leg like a dog. Bullying him crosses your mind, and you are nothing but a slave to your own whims in the bedroom, so you do.

“What a pathetic fucking man!” you laugh, startling him out of his focus on your cunt and cumming against your leg, and he blinks up at you with wide eyes. He never stops lapping at your cunt, and you scoff meanly. “Humping my leg like some mutt, how unfitting of a king. You’re so desperate to get off that you can’t even wait for the opportunity to use my cunt like a real man — but at least you’re good with your tongue, aren’t you?”

Lucifer whines out a moan into you as he nods an affirmative, and you laugh again, this time more breathily. “You like that, don’t you?” you ask mockingly, tugging at his messy hair just enough for it to sting a little. He whimpers into your core, looking up at you through tear-filled eyes. “The mockery, the harsh words, me being mean — and the praise. Can’t make up your mind on what you want more can you?” A shrill whine is your only response as he nips at your swollen clit, and your hips buck up into his face as you moan, “Mmm, you just want to get cunt-drunk, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh!” he agrees, thrusting hard against you and lapping up every drop of slick you had to offer him. He was talented when it came to slipping back and forth between focusing on smothering your clit with attention and dipping his tongue into your wanting hole, and it took all your inner strength not to lose face and wrap your thighs around his head.

“Please,” he says, voice slurred with desire, “Please, more — Love more, let me have more, I want more-!”

“More?” you ask mockingly, clenching around nothing as his long tongue circles your clit, and he moans into you desperately enough that the vibrations nearly force a whimper of your own from you lips. “G-Go ahead and ride my leg,” you say shakily, grinning down at him patronizingly as he immediately starts grinding down on you hard. “And cum whenever you want — after all, you’re just my dumb little pussy-whipped pretty boy~”

He lets out a shrill cry, thrusting against your leg hard as he bites and sucks at your cunt and cums all over your calf, moaning and crying with tears running down his face. Shrill cries fall from your lips as you stop bothering to hold them back; he was already getting sloppy in the ways you liked him best, him hearing you call out for him would only further your shared desire.

“What do we say?” you ask, keening as he sucks at you greedily, and he lets out a stilted cry of his own.

“Thank you!” he gasps, continuing to roll his cock against you and hiccuping through tears at the overstimulation he’s forcing upon himself as smaller spurts of cum rush from his cock and coat your skin. “Thank you, thank you, thank you..!”

“Good boy,” you murmur, moving your hand from his hair to gently caress his face, and he lets out a shaky sob as he nuzzles into your hand. You lay your head back, content to doze as he comes down from his own particular high while clinging to you.

“Love you,” he whispers quietly, and you hum softly back at him in response, wordlessly sharing the feeling. “So much. So, so much, more than anyone…” You let him babble mindlessly, knowing how fond he was of doing so, and listen in silence while watching him with a deep fondness sparkling in your eyes. After about a half hour or so he slows his chatter to a stop, beginning to play with your fingers and nibble at his lips, clearly wanting something.

“What is it, Lucifer?” you ask lazily, petting his head gently, and he lets out wordless whine that makes you raise an eyebrow. “Well?”

He’s quiet for a moment, for some reason unsure of himself, before he finally voices his desire. “More…?” he whispers quietly, clinging to you desperately, and you look down at him smugly while your lips quirk up into a smile.

“More?” you ask mockingly, then scoff and cross your legs, cutting him off from what he desired most, a surprised unintentional chirp falling from his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know if you deserve it…” And so begin the waterworks.

Lucifer bursts into tears, overstimulated and wanting and needy, all while being denied of the only thing he wants. He was a man lost in a vast desert and you were the small spring he stumbled upon after days — after tasting you the first time all those years ago, once in a night was never enough. You’re just being mean to bully him like you always do now, and he knows it.

Your cum glistens on his lips and chin, and his tongue darts out to lick it up without thinking, sending a surge of heat rushing through your core. “But — But I was good!” he argues shakily through his tears, “Please, I just want — want to make you feel good, ‘nd I wanna feel good too…”

You gaze down at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and biting down on it harshly to ground yourself; God, he’s fucking cute. So needy and desperate, his face coated in your cum…

You smile and spread your legs again, fighting off the urge to laugh at the way his feathers fluff up and he starts trembling in excitement. He’s always been an insatiable little thing, and you should have known better than to start to doze off after he’d achieved just his first orgasm — besides, you can handle him! This was your King after all, and you know him like you know your own mind. What’s a half dozen or more orgasms before the night is out? You could always sleep past noon if you really wanted, and it wasn’t as if he’d be leaving you anytime soon.

“Then go ahead, Your Majesty,” you purr softly, watching the way his pupils nearly swallow up his irises entirely at the rumble in your voice. “I’m all yours.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #sub!lucifer morningstar x reader #sub lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #sub!lucifer magne x reader #sub lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #sub!lucifer morningstar x you #sub lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer magne x you #sub!lucifer magne x you #sub lucifer magne x you #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you

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d10nyx · 5 months

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are you lonely?

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, incest, dad leon, 18+ reader(obviously), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon??(just to be safe), a lot of self-loathing and guilt on leon's part

a/n: i apologise wholeheartedly if i tagged anything incorrectly, this is my first time ever posting something i've written(and one of my first times finishing an idea), but i will try my hardest. THIS IS DARK CONTENT, so please be careful reading and scroll if you don't like it!! also genuinely please tell me if i missed any tags! hope you like it :)

word count: 2.4k words

It never gets easier. Every single mission manages to drain Leon more than the last. He almost just gave up on it all a long time ago - he would have if it wasn't for one thing.

You.

As he opens the door from another exhausting mission, he's hit with the smell of home cooked food that has his mouth watering. The house is spotless, as always. Floors completely polished, the sound of music coming from the kitchen has him dragging his feet there on autopilot, eyes settling on you.

His sweet daughter is at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You haven't even noticed he's home yet, humming along to the music coming from your phone softly as you cook. He leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, just gazing at you for a few moments.

God, he missed you.

“Hey, honey.” He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching in a close approximation of a smile, about all he can manage after the shit he's seen this past week. Your movements pause, and then you're tilting your head over your shoulder to look at him.

“Dad! You're home!” You exclaim, shooting him a smile that lights up your whole face. He barely has time to react before your arms are wrapped around his torso, giving him a tight hug. He never feels like he deserves your affection. He's barely even around, but you're always clinging to him like a needy puppy when he is.

“Mhm. Managed to finish up a little early.” He mumbles, a hand coming to your head to press it against his chest, giving your waist a little squeeze with his other one. Doesn't bother telling you about what he was doing. Doesn't want you worrying. “You miss me?”

“Course I did.” You reply without hesitation, giving him a squeeze in return before pulling away from him. “Gotta keep cooking before it burns, though. You hungry?” You ask softly, returning to the stove.

He hums softly, eyes lingering on you as he walks away. He finds himself looking at you for a little too long, blinking his eyes to snap himself out of it. “Yeah, I could eat.”

His gaze finds you again before long. His eyes flick over your form, hovering on your curves for a moment before he frowns. Jesus. Since when did he look at his daughter like that? Since when did his daughter look like that? Must of been a while, but he's only really noticing it now

He's only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime. You're always so happy to see him, always acting so domestic. You cook for him, clean for him and cuddle up to him after he's had a particularly tough day.

You'd make a good wife for someone one day.

His frown deepens as his brain supplies that thought to him. Is this what's happening to him now? He's so sick that he's attracted to his own damn daughter? Is that really how fucked up his life has got?

He gets a little weird after that, eating dinner with you in silence when it's done before rushing off to the bedroom. You ask him about 100 times what's wrong, but he always gives you the same ‘it's nothing, honey, just tired.’ You don't believe a word of it, naturally. You know your dad better than that, know when something’s bothering him

And you're a sweet girl. Too sweet for him, if he's being honest. So he shouldn't be surprised when you go to check on him after you clean up the dishes before you go to bed. But he wasn't thinking right, and you walk in on him right as he's pumping his dick to the thought of you.

“Shit…” He breathes out as he sees you in the doorway. He thinks he's going to be sick when the sight of your surprised face is what tips him over the edge, your pretty lips parted in shock as he cums harder than he has in years.

Post-nut clarity hits him like a train, guilt clawing its way up his chest, nausea setting in. “Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry.” He says quickly, too stunned to move. His hand is still gripping his cock, still hard and leaking, his hand coated in his release.

And you're just staring, unable to take your eyes away. Makes your stomach flip and your heart beat faster. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He quickly seems to snap out of his daze and yanks the cover over himself, his jaw tightening as he refuses to meet your eyes.

You find yourself disappointed that you can't see him like that anymore, a frown tugging at your face. “It's okay, dad.” You manage to say, voice a little strained. Heat pools in your stomach, and you fidget a little as you stand in the doorway, your common sense warring with what you wanted.

“I just wanted to check on you.” You say after a moment of silence, Leon still not looking at you. “You seemed… weird at dinner. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You continue to stand awkwardly in the doorway before you shift further into the room. Against your better judgement, you sit on the edge of his bed, trying to catch his eye.

“It's okay, dad. Really.” You tell him, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. He lets out a stifled groan, his eyes squeezing shut. You're too good for him. “My fault for not knocking.”

His eyes crack open to meet yours, and he slowly realises he's found you beautiful for a long time - more than what's considered acceptable as a father. Ever since you came back from college during one of your breaks, filling out your clothes in a way you never had before, looking up at him with those pretty eyes…

Fuck. He's sick. He deserves to rot in hell. He'd noticed long ago, pushed the thoughts away so he could be the father you deserved. And you're perfect. So goddamn beautiful, like you were made for him. Your hand is so warm and soft where it cups his cheek, your touch so gentle.

He's been so, so lonely. And you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, brows furrowed in concern as he refuses to answer you. Knows if he opens his mouth, he's gonna say some shit he regrets.

He ends up doing something he's gonna regret, anyway. Can't help himself when you're giving him those eyes. He's grabbing you by the cheeks, pulling you into a kiss without even thinking about it.

You pull away, and he whimpers. He tugs you back in again, kissing you with more fervour this time. Your body freezes up, then you find yourself kissing back, and he's not sure if that's worse or not. Guilt is eating him alive, but he can't help himself.

“I'm so sorry, baby.” He murmurs between kisses, desperately tugging you closer to him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and he moans softly as your own prods against his. “Can't help it. You're so pretty.”

This time, you're the one deepening the kiss. His hands find your waist, his grip tightening. He didn't realise how badly he needed this. Needed you. He can feel how badly you want him, the way you're pressing up against him as he kisses you.

It's so wrong. He wants to do so many things to you. You want him in a way no one has ever wanted him before, even more than your mom ever did. It's intoxicating, makes him dizzy. He feels so pathetic. What kind of sicko wants to fuck his own daughter? He's your dad. He should be protecting you from creeps like this, not making a move on you.

“Baby…” He breathes out, pulling away from your mouth, his heart hammering in his chest at the disappointed look that spreads across your face. “We can't do this. Y'know that, yeah?”

But his hands move to settle on your hips, tugging you into his lap, the duvet the only thing separating you from sitting on his bare cock that he never had a chance to shiver back into his pants after you caught him. He's not strong enough, needs you to be the one to bring him to his senses. You just needed to say no, and he'd be able to stop. But you don't, and he's too weak to do it himself. Far too weak.

“Daddy…” You breathe out, frown tugging at your lips. “Please? Just this once?”

How is he meant to say no to that? He buries the guilt, buries the self-loathing. He's good at that - pushing away his feelings and pretending that everything's okay. He can't deny his pretty girl of anything, especially not when she asks so sweetly.

So he kisses you again. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, one that has him groaning and rocking his hips up to get some kind of friction on his aching cock. It twitches, already leaking pre-cum. He can't even remember the last time he fucked someone. Can't believe he's about to fuck you. He's tempted to cut his dick off after this. Doesn't deserve it.

It's not long before his hands are pawing desperately at your pants, tugging them off along with your panties. He keeps your shirt on, pretends that makes him better, even if he wants to see how your tits bounce. Hey, he thinks, at least I had some self-control.

You moan so prettily when his thumb brushes your clit, rubbing slow circles into it. You're already so wet, his cock jumping with interest. Even Hell is too good for him.

Your hands slip down to tug at the fabric separating the two of you, your hips only hovering long enough to pull the duvet down and expose him, a low whine spilling from your lips.

“Want it, daddy. Please?” You murmur, dipping your head down to kiss his neck, making him suppress a groan.

“Yeah, baby. Anything you want.” He breathes out, his free hand reaching for the base to make his cock stand tall, offering it up like some kind of treat while his other hand still rubs lazy circles onto your clit.

You both moan in sync as you lower yourself onto his length. His hand slips to your hip, gripping it to guide your movements. His hips buck up into you, his tip brushing your cervix whenever you sink down fully onto him.

You're so wet, and you squeeze him just right. He's going to go insane. There's no way he can help himself now. He's never gonna stop thinking about how good you feel wrapped around him.

“Fuck, honey. Pussy's made just for me,” he groans, cringing as he says the words. He's never been a fan of dirty talk, feels awkward. Worse when he thinks about who he's fucking. But you feel so good, he really can't stop himself. His brain isn't working anymore.

“You're so big.” You whine, grinding your hips down against him more than actually riding him, like you don't want his dick to leave you for even a moment. Cute. He almost cums just at the way your face twists as he fucks up into you.

“S’all yours, baby. C'mon,” he coos, thumb slipping away from your clit and making you whimper, just so he can grab your waist with both hands. “Ride daddy.”

He lifts you up and down, helping you ride him. You rock your hips desperately, moaning as he presses up against your sweet spot with every thrust, picking up the pace as he fucks into you. He's able to manhandle you so easily, which only has you moaning louder, your eyes fluttering shut.

With his hands occupied with gripping your waist as he helps you fuck yourself on his dick, you bring your own hand down to rub at your clit, making the heat in your stomach build rapidly.

The bed creaks as he picks up the pace again, rutting deeper into you than before, your pussy making the most obscene squelching noises. It's downright sinful, Leon has to use all of his focus to stop himself from cumming right then and there. Fuck, if it wasn't for him jerking off right before you came in, he'd have cum as soon as he saw your pretty pussy.

You're close, biting your lip to sniffle your moans as they grow louder, fingers moving faster against your clit. Your dad notices, shifting his hips until he's pounding relentlessly into your sweet spot, making you see stars.

He feels his chest swell with pride when he feels you tense up, pussy clenching around his cock deliciously as your orgasm hits, juices gushing past his cock and coating his balls. He didn't even know he still had it in him, thought his dick game died in his 20s. This was a pleasant surprise.

His balls tighten, and he knows he's about to cum. He grunts and goes to pull you off of him, but you whine and shake your head, pushing yourself down. “S'okay, daddy. I'm on birth control. Wanna feel it, please.”

He frowns a little at that. He doesn't like thinking about other guys fucking you. You're his princess, a sweet girl. Your daddy will take care of you, not these other losers. God, he's fucked up.

“Yeah, baby? Want daddy to fill you up?” He grunts, flipping you over with ease so your back's pressed to the bed, him hovering over you. He pounds into you with renewed vigor, head hanging and bangs covering his eyes.

“Fuck.” He hisses as he buries himself balls deep in you, cock kicking inside your pussy as he cums. He pants a little as he fills you, he's not quite as young as he used to be. Takes it out of him sometimes.

He pulls out and slumps next to you. You cuddle up to him instantly, and that guilt and shame comes to the surface again. He pulls you close to him, pets your hair and kisses your forehead like he always does.

“Love you, baby girl.” He murmurs, his free hand pulling the covers up and over your body, his fingertips scratching your scalp lightly.

“I love you more, dad.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #dark content

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tasteracha · 1 year

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a/n: you didn’t think your first one night stand would turn out like this

you didn’t really know what to expect when you got the courage to approach the cute guy wearing a leather jacket at the bar you were at. you didn’t expect him to buy you a drink along with his own. you didn’t expect for him to fend off other guys approaching you with a warm hand on your back. and you certainly didn't expect your own mouth to open and ask him to take you home that night. it was only when he agreed that it hit you with a sobering thought; you’ve never done this before. you didn’t really know how it worked, and you had no idea what to expect.

what were you thinking, going home with a guy you just met? it shouldn’t matter that he was built like a greek god, or that his car smelled like new leather, or that the sight of his hands gripping the wheel made you press your legs together in the passenger seat. the nerves were setting in and it was too late to do anything about it.

but the night was amazing.

he fucks into you slowly, savoring every stroke even when you beg him to go faster. he brings you to your high again and again, holding himself at bay to give you pleasure. when he finally comes it’s with a breathless moan as he drapes himself over you, pressing his entire body to yours.

he cleans you both up, handling your limp body with utmost care. he holds you when you sleep, his hand resting over your heart, and you never could have asked for anything better than this.

or so you thought, until you woke up alone in bed with cooling sheets next to you and the sweet smell of coffee invading your senses. you’re disoriented as you stand, searching around for something to wear before landing on one of his oversized shirts on the floor and a pair of boxers in his drawer. you creep out of his bedroom, walking on bare feet until you reach the doorway to his kitchen. your lips curve up when you see him humming at the stove, two steaming mugs next to him as he stirs eggs in a pan. he turns and spots you and his face lights up, eyes crinkling into little moons that glint in the morning light.

“i made breakfast,” he says as he plates the eggs next to buttery toast, balancing both plates on his arms and grabbing the mugs to set them on the bar counter. he takes your hand, guiding you over to the stool and helping you sit like the gentleman you’ve always dreamed of.

did you fall into a fairytale somehow? it sure feels like it.

“i like seeing you in my clothes,” he smirks, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth as if he didn’t make you flush from your head to your toes with one sentence. he pushes a mug of coffee towards you, blinking widely until you take a sip and you almost moan at how good it tastes. the eggs are done perfectly to your liking, the toast is buttered evenly and toasted just right, and it’s almost too obvious of a choice when he asks you shyly about whether you’d like to see him again. of course, you said yes.

this may have been your first one night stand, but you’re hoping with him that it will be your last.

#skz smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz imagines #lee minho smut #lee know smut #lee know imagines #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts

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cambrinkisbae · 2 months

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.·:·.✧ Say No ✧.·:·.

NIka Muhl x Fem!Reader

"your probably having good times with a bad boy"

word count - 2.1k

themes:

-angst if u squint

-slight sexual content

-light fluff

A/N - this is gonna be a short series but I wrote this in honor of the weather getting warmer and so that I'm not so depressed about Nika leaving. sorry its so short..

Me and Nika Muhl started dating July 7th of 2022. It was a regular summer day in California. The entire team decided to go on a vacation together. It was hard leaving Connecticut to go hang out with the team I had just joined but oh whatever. The only downside to his trip was my shitty boyfriend.

Ex. Ex boyfriend sorry.

I had a mango smoothie in hand and watched as Paige and Azzi splashed each other with the bluest of waters. Every couple seconds I'd feel a breeze rush against my exposed collarbones. Even as the sun was beating down on me I felt so fresh and clean and free. My fingers felt around the sand I was sitting in. My eyes drifted from the ocean to the sky which was painted with oranges and yellows with pinky tones in-between. I took a sip from my smoothie before looking to my ride to find a creation brunette sitting down next to me. A soft smile was placed on her face as she made herself comfortable next to me.

Throughout the time that I was on this team, me and Nika barely talked outside of game days and team dinners. If I'm being honest, This summer was going to be my designated time to get closer with her. So her openly sitting next to me was a major step.

"Hey" her eyes flashed from the sand to me.

I quickly shaped my lips into a smile and looked into Nika's eyes.

"Hi theree"

I noticed her hands were wrapped around the handle of a beige tote bag. She let go of the bag to rest her hands against her chest as she laid herself down. Her sunglasses were black with a slightly lighter lens. She had on a bright blue bikini that the ends of her hair grazed ever so slightly. I felt her eyes linger towards mine as I admired her features.

"Sorry we haven't gotten to talk a lot in the past couple months" she said softly, accent thick.

"Your good. We have the whole summer to make up for it so don't worry" I kept my eyes locked on the ocean.

Up until now I thought Nika was the mean point guard who everyone was petrified by. And I was very convinced that they had a reason. But now talking to her face to face I felt myself grow confused on how this could've gotten around.

"Why aren't you out in the water huh?" The brunette said pointing to the ocean.

I shrugged my shoulders and turned my head to face Nika.

"I forgot my suit" an excuse quickly slipped out.

"Oh sure.." Nika said under her breath, clearly not believing me

Our conversation eventually died out so I decided to pull out a book from my beach bag. I flipped through the pages to find my last place and began reading. as I got lost in the words I didn't even realize that Nika had gotten up to go swim with the other girls. I peered through the top of my book to see Nika gently slipping her feet into the water. Ines quickly jumped onto Nika's back like a toddler on her mom. I couldn't help but giggle at the sight of Nika getting absolutely dunked into the water. Everyone but me and Qadence were in the water. I almost forgot I was even reading by the time Nika looked at me. I was caught staring at her. in a bikini. shit. I quickly darted my eyes down into my book and pretended that nothing happened.

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

Once the team got back to the hotel we were staying at the only thing I could focus on was trying to avoid Nika. Of course it was my luck that I happened to room with her. What a coincidence. I walked through the door of our room and set my flower printed bag on my bed and showered before doing anything else. I played my favorite summer playlist and left my clothes on the floor before stepping into the shower. My mind kept going back to the beach and seeing Nika in her bathing suit. Fuck. Doesn't she have a boyfriend or something? I cant be thinking this shit. But the way her hair was all wet and her laugh was so addicting to remember. The hot water running down my back along with the thought of Nika sent chills along my arms effortlessly.

I kept trying to focus on whatever SZA song was playing on my speaker but failed miserably. Soon enough I got out of the shower and slipped on a silk pajama set on. I braided my hair tightly and cleaned up the bathroom before turning the light off and leaving. When I got out of the bathroom the bedroom was still empty. Thank god. I flipped open my computer and turned on Outer Banks before pulling out my sketch book.

I came up with a rule before I came to UConn. The rule was that after everyday I have to draw anything that comes to mind until my mind is clear. Whether its cleared of happiness or anger. And I stuck to it.

Of course I had to draw the ocean and sand and all those beach like things. Before I knew it, I was drawing Nika. With her hair up with her hair down. In her bikini, in the outfit she wore yesterday and the day before. The was the first day that I had to shut my sketch book before my mind was clear because what the fuck was I doing. I couldn't be drawing Nika like a fucking psychopath. I stuffed my book into my suitcase and laid down on my bed. Time flew by as I watched more episodes of Outer Banks. So much time went by that when I was about to click 'next episode' to watch the last episode of season 3, Paige knocked on the door. Her head peeked through slowly. she had a devious smile on her lips and just like that her, Azzi, KK, Ice, and Nika busted through my door giggling and jumping around. Great they got high without me. I quickly protected my computer by closing it and putting it on my nightstand. Azzi crawled on top of my bed and sat next to me, placing her head on my shoulder.

While everyone laughed around hitting each other with pillows, I saw Nika standing in the corner on her phone. Her eyes seemed to get less and less dilated the more she tapped her thumbs aggressively on her screen. I stood up and walked up to her.

"You good?" I tried to not be nosey but gave up and looked down at her phone. She slowly handed it to me to show a text that her "boyfriend" sent. They broke up.

I quickly wrapped my arms around Nika and squeezed her tightly.

"He's going to be missing out on a lot love dont' worry"

Nika couldn't help but let a couple tears roll down her face. Just as I thought she was going to collapse and sob into my arms she pulled away and stared into my eyes menacingly. Her fingers quickly wrapped around my hand and began dragging me to the side. I looked up to see Nika leading me outside into the hallway. she led me all the way to Paige and Azzi's room. Without any hesitation she shut the door and locked it behind her.

"Nika what are you doi-" I began to say

"Shut up please."

Before even realizing what was happening I felt Nika press her lips against mine. A small gasp left my mouth but it wasn't a gasp that said I don't want to do this it was a gasp that said don't stop. My tongue quickly found its place against hers. Her hand lifted my thigh up against her hips and I quickly followed what she was doing by lifting my other leg up around her waist. She lifted my entire body up against hers and carried me to the other wall. She pressed my back against the wall and moved her lips down my neck, pausing in-between kisses to leave marks around each vein. My hands were wrapped around the back of her neck, my nails slightly dug into her skin the lower she got.

"Off." She said sternly once her lips reached the edge of my pajama top.

I didn't pause to think about anything and took off my top revealing my sports bra. Her fingers teased at the hem of my pants clearly wanting to take them off. Unfortunately for her it wasn't that easy.

"uh uh. you first"

I looked her dead in the eye and ran my hands across her tank top. Her hand released my waist, not changing the grip my legs had onto her waist. She slipped off her black tank top without breaking our eye contact. Her lips immediately gravitated back to my chest. I couldn't help but let out a soft whine as her lips made their way closer to my stomach.

"I can tell this is what you meant by getting to know each other" she spat before placing a kiss on my lips as she slipped off my pajama bottoms.

"Mind reader much?" I said in response

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

The morning after everything that happened that night was unbearable. My eyes slowly blinked open to see Nika laying on my chest. Calm breaths left her mouth followed by a couple snores. I gently slipped out from under her and got dressed. As I walked into the bathroom I realized that I was definitely not in my room. We were both still in Paige and Azzi's room. Fuck fuck fuck.

Before even thinking, I rushed out of the room leaving Nika and ran to my room. The first thing I saw was Paige, Azzi, KK, and Ice laying on me and Nika's beds. Limbs sprawled out and everything. I chose to ignore the girls and ran to he bathroom to brush my teeth and clean myself up before Nika woke up. Once my hair was brushed out I slicked it back into a ponytail and got changed into a light orange sweater and grey Nike shorts. My feet were thankfully covered with a pair of socks. After I got changed and fixed myself up, I rushed back to Paige and Azzi's room to find a still asleep Nika laying on Paige's bed. She was now cuddled up onto the pillow I previously was sleeping on. Her hair was clearly tangled and her mascara was smudged.

I decided to do the most cringey and kidney of weird thing ever but who cares. I grabbed makeup remover and a brush from my bag and started by taking off her mascara. This woke Nika up quickly but she didn't do anything about it but groan. Once her mascara was off, I completely woke her up and helped her sit up so that I could brush her hair. Gently teasing through the tangles, I brushed through her hair. Her eyes were still mainly closed but she still tried her best to loop up at me as I gave her a mini makeover. Not that she needed it.

Once we were both fixed up a word still wasn't exchanged. Just giggling every few minutes. The both of us chose to ignore whatever happened last night even though we were both VERY aware that what happened well. Happened.

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Not many people asked what we were doing in Paige and Azzi's room surprisingly. a few glances were shared throughout the day whether it was when we went out to go shopping or when we went to shoot free throws for fun.

The same thing happened almost every night for the next week. Nika would be in whatever mood she was in so she'd crawl into my arms and lay there until we got each other's clothes off. We stayed like that for what felt like forever until July hit. Things began to get more innocent if you could use that word. The girls began to notice how close we were and how it took us a while to get up out of bed every couple of days. We decided to clear up everything and you know. Date.

Of course not everyone agreed with this. When we made things official, two specific men had very strong opinions about this. Of course when things were officiated my mind was completely blank when it came to the fact that I still had a boyfriend. A shitty one but still.

Now I'm not saying that cheating was the right thing but I mean…it's Nika Muhl who could say no.

#nika muhl #lesbian #basketball #uconhuskies #uconn wbb #girlblogger #paige bueckers #Azzi fudd #say no #wlw #Nika Muhl x reader

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callsign-marlie · 2 years

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Hey Pretty Girl

The Five Times Jake calls you his favorite pet name + one bonus little baby taste of angst :3

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader genre: FLUFF warnings: unedited, light teasing and innuendos, mention of pregnancy and child birth, no y/n used a/n this is total fluff and it was just what I needed. very short in comparison to my normal things but i almost wanna do all of the young pilots with this prompt and a different quote each time, it was so wholesome ;^;

Please feel free to like, comment and reblog. Much appreciated and much love - marlie x

---

The First

“Hey pretty girl, slide me a bud, will ya?”

Blonde hair and blue eyes, a coy smile. Tanned skin pinched with a glaze sunned pink at the top of his cheeks and a clean pressed khaki uniform. The cap popped off of the glass with a fizz before you slid the bottle to him. “$5.50 for the boy in brown.”

“The boy,” he scoffed. Thick fingers gripped around the neck of the brew to coat his nails in condensation. The amber liquid swirled the enclosure of glass as he placed the rim to his lips. His eyes never left yours. “Not a boy. A man, darlin’. More of a man than any one you’ve had before tonight, I can assure you that.”

“And who said I wanted you, fly boy?” Your elbows were on the bar, leaning over the mahogany top. Even with the challenge of cleavage at your disposal, he never broke away from your gaze.

“Your eyes say enough. See ya soon, gorgeous.” He scribbled his name on the merchant copy of his receipt. A wink, the shine of a grin, and away he turned.

You grabbed at the soggy slip of paper to find chicken scratch handwriting with ‘Jake’ and a phone number written on the bottom. Jake, huh?

The Second

“Hey pretty girl, that spot’s perfect. Just like me, right?”

He had bought you a bundle of sunflowers on a whim. They were gorgeous and tall, standing bright against the navy of your entry way in the antique crystal vase your mom had given you. Jake had cleaned up nicely in a crisp button down and slacks for your date to the local brewery down on the coast and had bought the bouquet for you on the ride home from a local farm stand. “Now you can think of me every time you leave the house and smile to start your day.”

You rolled your eyes, an endeared grin on your face. “You’re an ass, Seresin.”

“Maybe, but I’m your ass and that makes me the best ass around,” he chimed, jokingly hitting the back of his rump. “And this ass ain’t leavin’ for quite some time doll.”

“Then tell me, baby, what happens if the flowers die? How would I ever remember you then?” You lovingly wrap your arms around the top of his shoulders, careening up on your tiptoes to touch his nose with yours.

His fingertips brushed a strand of hair that roguishly fell into your eyes. His eyes were the color of sea grass and his gaze was softly focused on your lips. “Guess we’re just gonna have to go on more dates so I can get you more, right?”

The Third

“Hey pretty girl, may I have this dance?”

The reception was over and your feet were on fire, but you were finally home in your little shared apartment on base. Your hand, now coveted by a new diamond wedding band, sparkled under the high hat lights as Jake helped you up from the couch to the smooth sounds of John Mayer echoing in the background. Your white gown sweeped against the floor as he pulled you to his chest.

Jake, your perfectly perfect Jake, dropped a soft kiss to your forehead, to the tip of your nose, to your lips. “Mrs. Seresin,” he whispered at each pass of his lips. You let your bare feet stand atop his, still encased in his military issued loafers and let his strong legs take you on a slow rock in your living room. It was the first time today that the two of you had been just alone: where the room wasn’t vibrating with clinking glasses or loud party music.

Jake swayed with you gently even as the song changed, his hands dropped to your waist to rest on the crest of your bejeweled bum. You raised an eyebrow at your cheeky husband, who simply rolled his eyes and gave a boyish grin. “Just let me enjoy this baby.”

The Fourth

“Hey pretty girl, lemme help you, hold on.”

Jake’s large hands snuck underneath your rounded belly, lifting just enough weight to let your spine relax under the constant pressure of pregnancy. The dishes you were washing were suddenly forgotten and slipped from your fingers. A blissful sigh. “Ohhh, that’s the stuff, don’t stop.”

“Damn, all of my talent in bed and I’ve never heard you sound like THAT before,” he huffed, slowly letting your belly back down. “All I had to do was lift up peanut here and you’re putty, huh?”

You pouted at the returning strain and snatched his hands back to place. You tilted your head to the side to leave a kiss and a teasing nip on his bicep. His fingers tickled over your skin in amusement.

“Uh-uh, don’t even think about it, Seresin. You stay right there.”

The Fifth

“Hey pretty girl, I’m your daddy.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes while he held the small pink bundle in his arms. She was so sleepy after making her grand entrance, kicking and yelling the entire birth. “Oh my god, I’m your daddy!”

“She looks just like you.” You were laying in your bed, completely spent, but glowing after all of your hard work pushing your new little love into the world. “You’re gonna be a great daddy, Jake.”

“And you’re gonna be a great mommy, honey girl.” He carefully made his way over to the bed and sat on the side to let your little girl close. Her eyes were closed and soft little breaths were leaving her mouth. Jake leaned over to plant a chaste kiss into your hair, your nose, your lips. He lingered longer than normal, touching his forehead to yours.

“My pretty girls. All mine, all mine, until the day I die. I’ll never want nothing more than this.”

Bonus: The Sixth

“Hey pretty girl, I’m alright.”

You launched yourself at your husband, tears streaming down your face. He winced under your arms, but did his best to wrap himself around you through all of the wires tubing he was attached to. Safe. His smooth hands rubbed up and down your back as you sobbed into his shoulder, leaving light taps on his back. “Don’t. You. EVER. Do. That. Again.”

“What, eject? It’s either that or die, and I’m too good to die while I’m still so young and handsome. You don’t want me to leave you a widow so soon, do you?” His megawatt smile showed reassurance, but you weren’t so sure it was real. You knew Jake better than he knew himself. His eyes, blackened from his impact, held something behind them that wasn’t there before: a fear. His façade was cracking at your worry.

“You won’t lose me, pretty girl. I’ll be here. I’m not leaving.”

“Promise me?” Your eyes just wouldn’t stop tearing up. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” His fingers made an ‘x’ over his heart. “And I really, really don’t wanna die. I have my whole life with you to look forward to.”

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick ff #jake seresin #jake seresin ff #hangman top gun #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #HANGMAN.#god i love this douche so much man

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dateko · 8 months

Text

˚｡⋆ GLITTER AND GIGGLES | GETO SUGURU

contents: domestic fluff brain rot, papa!geto with the twins, tatted!geto, reader and suguru are married, & suguru being the best dad even though it is written quite poorly

“I’m home!” You announce as you enter the house, feet screaming as you kick off your heels.

Surprisingly, no one greets you back. The absence of the familiar rumble of footsteps that usually storm toward you causes you to frown. There isn’t a pair of mischievous twins that wait for you at the top of the stairs, nor is there a handsome husband dressed in an apron telling you that he’s missed you all day. You deflate at this, but your ears pick up the lovable sound of hushed giggles coming from the living room.

You creep up the steps gingerly, careful not to disrupt whatever fun the girls seem to be having. And that’s when you see it. There, splayed all over your ridiculously expensive rug that is now littered with markers and glitter glue, is your husband. Your two girls occupy his sides, hovering over his bare back with busy hands.

“Girls?” You break their playful trance, and they turn to each other before you with wide eyes. “What are you two doing?”

Mimiko attempts to gather the markers into her arms as a stuttering Nanako waves her hands in your face, doing a very poor job at obscuring your view when her hands are so incredibly teeny. “Mommy! It’s nothing! We were just cleaning up.”

Your brow raises at this since you know well you didn’t raise a liar. Catching a glimpse of Suguru’s sleeping figure with his bare torso flat on the floor almost makes you think the two tired out their own father to death. But as you step closer, the sight almost makes you laugh out loud.

The tattoo of the rainbow dragon that trails down Suguru’s spine finally bears truth to its name. You’re not exactly sure where to look first. You follow the lines of pink and purple scribbled messily outside the inked lines, the loose glitter that sticks itself between the crevices of your husband’s back muscles, and the series of Sanrio stickers that wander down the side of his neck. It’s ridiculous, almost like a unicorn had vomited all over him, yet precious all at once.

Mimiko tugs at your sleeve. “Are you mad?”

Shaking your head with a smile, you pinch the little brunette’s cheek. “Hand me a marker.”

The girls giggle behind you as you kneel beside Suguru��s sleeping face. He’s gorgeous, always been, and always will be. Thought it was a shame you were about to ruin it. The marker in your hold draws an elaborate beard on his face, making sure to dance with a few swirls and twirls. You beam at how your canvas scrunches his nose, eyebrows furrowing at the feeling of your marker gliding across his skin.

Suguru scratches his face before opening his eyes, blinking repeatedly at the moment he realizes you’re home. “Morning, beautiful.” You grin, tucking a piece of his dark locks behind his ear.

“Sweetheart,” He sits up immediately, unaware of the glitter that falls from his skin behind him. “I missed you.”

You decide against scolding your husband for falling asleep instead of watching your children when he leans in to seal a kiss on your lips, and you turn away, stifling a giggle. “Come on, no kiss?” Suguru pouts. “What’s so funny?”

“Papa, you look so weird.” Mimiko pips from behind you, trying to hide her laughter.

“You have something on your face, Papa!” Nanako adds, squealing when Suguru grabs her to tickle her stomach. The house is filled with an abundance of happy laughter once more, and you can feel your heart swell with contentment. Your husband extends his arm to you and Mimiko, a soft glint in his golden eyes. The expression on his face is delicate, yet he is still completely unaware of the ridiculous lines that paint his features. “Come over here, you two.”

Suguru beams as his three favorite girls pile on top of him, bubbles of joy bouncing off the walls every which way. You can’t help but finally kiss him. You could never resist Suguru, especially when he’s always been such a good husband and an exceptional father for the three of you. The wet smack you place on his lips causes the girls to grimace, trying to wiggle their way out of strong arms.

The twins scramble out of the living room and scurry off immediately. You stay in Suguru’s lap, hand tracing his collarbone and down his shoulders as he hugs you tighter. “Don’t think I’m letting you go without a punishment.” He teases, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?"

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrow raises, unconvinced. “Well, I wouldn't be so sure. You look like Yaga right now.”

Your hands scramble to your chin as you gasp, noticing the black residue on your fingertips. Your husband watches you as you attempt to scrub off the black beard on your face with your sleeve. Rolling your eyes at his smirk, you give up. Grabbing both sides of his face, you kiss him once more. “Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

“Anything for you, Sweetheart.”

#i did not edit or proofread or put much thought or care i just hit POST!!!! because i love suguru #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #suguru x reader #jjk

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clusterbuck · 3 months

Text

melt your headaches (call it home)

what do you do when you might have a concussion? sleep in your best friend's bed about it, of course | T, 2k

read it on ao3

Well, Buck thinks, staring at his kitchen ceiling. This is an annoying way to die.

But the ceiling doesn’t go anywhere. He blinks, waiting for his vision to fade to black or maybe a bright light to appear and beckon him closer, but all he sees is the kitchen lamp, one bulb burnt out since before he can remember.

He blinks a couple more times for good measure, and when nothing continues to happen, he carefully eases himself up and takes stock.

His head hurts, but that’s unsurprising. He’s pretty sure he slammed it against the floor. His tailbone is a little sore, probably from being a step on his way down.

His shirt feels sticky against his skin. Buck’s hand flies to the back of his head, feeling for a wound, but his fingers find only hair.

Then he realises his shirt is cold.

He twists around, wincing at the movement, and finds a bright yellow sponge in the middle of a puddle of soapy water. The sponge’s carved face grins at him.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Buck mutters.

Now he’s really glad he didn’t die. Death by Scrub Daddy would be sure to make the headlines.

Slowly, carefully, Buck gets to his feet. He cleans up the mess first, drying the floor so he doesn’t end up flat on his back again, then sits down at the table. He probes his head again, more thoroughly now, but he can’t find anything other than soreness to the touch.

He’ll probably get a nice goose egg out of it.

Okay, concussion protocol, Buck thinks, running through the symptoms in his mind. Didn’t black out, my vision is fine, I’m not dizzy, not nauseous… Huh.

Briefly, he entertains the thought of going to the ER to get checked out, but he dismisses it almost immediately. He doesn’t have concussion symptoms, he just hit his head a little. He’s had way worse than this. It’s not worth taking up medical resources over, not when he knows the city’s been stretched thin recently.

He could call Chimney, or Hen, but—

They’d worry about him. And he’s fine. He just needs to rest, and he’ll be good to go for his shift tomorrow.

Buck settles in on his couch for a marathon of bad daytime TV.

—

He spends the rest of the day testing himself. He checks his pupils in the mirror every time he goes to the bathroom, making sure they’re equal and reactive. He closes one eye, then the other, checking for changes in his vision. He does the daily crossword, then looks up an archive of previous crosswords so he can make sure he’s still thinking clearly.

He gets the daily crossword done in less than five minutes. This is good, Buck thinks. Confusion is a concussion symptom. Couldn’t do a sub-five-minute crossword if I had a concussion.

He can barely get a foothold on the next one, and nearly freaks out and dials 9-1-1 until he realises he’d opened a Saturday puzzle.

It’s fine. Saturday puzzles are harder. Everything is fine.

Eventually, though, the day starts turning to night, and a voice in the back of Buck’s mind starts making itself known.

Nagging at him about sleeping and concussions.

It’s fine, Buck tells himself. Everything is fine. I probably don’t even have a concussion.

Probably.

But he’s been on far too many calls where someone hit their head, went to sleep, and never woke up again.

Before he’s fully decided to, Buck has his phone in his hand and open to his text thread with Eddie.

hypothetically, Buck types. if someone hit their head in the morning, they probably shouldn’t go to sleep alone, huh

The phone vibrates in his hand before he can even put it down, Eddie’s face flashing on the screen. Buck sighs and picks it up.

“What did you do?” Eddie asks immediately.

“Hi,” Buck says, pointed, but he can’t quite muster up actual annoyance.

“Hey,” Eddie says, softer. “What did you do?”

“Hypothetically, the Scrub Daddy tried to kill me.”

Eddie laughs. It’s muffled, like he’s trying to smother it, but he definitely laughs. “You slipped on your kitchen sponge?”

“Yeah,” Buck sighs. “I don’t think I have a concussion, but…”

“I’m assuming you didn’t go to the ER?”

“If I did I’d probably still be there, so no,” Buck says. “I didn’t black out, I don’t have any symptoms, but—”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Where’s Chris?”

“He’s here,” Eddie says. “He’ll be fine for half an hour. I’ll come pick you up.”

“I can drive—” Buck starts, and Eddie cuts him off.

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” he says again. “Meet you in the parking lot?”

“I—okay,” Buck says. “Okay.”

He tries not to think about how relieved he feels.

—

Eddie pulls into the parking lot twelve minutes later, and Buck tosses his work bag into the footwell and climbs in. They make it three whole blocks before Eddie turns to him, his face tinted orange in the glow of the streetlights, and frowns.

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Buck says. Eddie snorts, and Buck could have predicted his timing down to the microsecond.

“That why you texted?” he asks. “Because you’re fine?”

“I’m fine,” Buck says again. “Just… a little bonked.”

“Buck—”

“Eddie,” Buck says. “I’m like—ninety-nine percent sure it’s not a concussion and I’m just overreacting. It’s just—”

“Not something you want to risk,” Eddie says. “I know.” They drive in silence for a couple of blocks, and Eddie turns to look at him again. “I’m still going to check you over when we get home.”

Buck grins. “I’d expect nothing less.”

The house is dark when they pull up, and Buck turns to Eddie. “Thought you said Chris is home?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “He is. He’s just holed up in his room with the computer.”

“Kids these days,” Buck says, mock-disapproving, shaking his head like he hasn’t racked up more than his share of video game hours.

Eddie snorts. “Exactly.”

He leads the way into the house, and points to the sofa as soon as Buck closes the door behind them. “Okay, sit.”

“Yes, doctor,” Buck says, and sees Eddie’s eyebrows fly up in response.

Eddie gets them under control by the time he turns back to Buck, holding his first aid kit and a small penlight. “Okay, so what exactly happened?”

“Why do you need the first aid kit?” Buck asks, instead of answering.

“Seemed like the thing to do,” Eddie says. “What happened?”

“I told you,” Buck says. “The Scrub Daddy tried to kill me.”

Eddie laughs again, fond, and it sparks something deep in Buck’s chest. “Can you elaborate on that?”

“It fell. I slipped.”

“Slipped?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, you know, full cartoon, flat on my back, head hit the ground.”

“Ouch,” Eddie says. “Did you lose consciousness at any point?”

“No,” Buck says. “And I haven’t been dizzy, and I haven’t been sick, and my head doesn’t hurt. Or—the bit I bonked does, but not like concerning concussion symptom hurt.”

“Good,” Eddie says, sitting down on the coffee table in front of him. His knees slot between Buck’s, and he raises a hand in question. “Can I?”

Buck nods, and Eddie presses his fingers to the back of his skull. “Here?” he asks, the word barely a breath between them.

Buck nods again.

Eddie’s fingers move gently across Buck’s scalp, and the moment stretches out like taffy between them . Buck hardly realises he’s holding his breath until Eddie blinks, pulls his hands way, and leans back, and Buck exhales.

“Seems, uh—seems fine,” Eddie says, then takes a breath and reaches for the penlight. “I’m gonna check your pupils, okay?”

“They’ve been equal and reactive every time I’ve checked them,” Buck says, but Eddie rests his hand on his face, thumb carefully holding his eye open, and Buck leans into the touch.

“Just let me check,” Eddie says, holding up the light.

“Satisfied?” Buck asks when Eddie puts the light down.

“For now,” Eddie says. “What do you think, want to watch something, or—”

Buck yawns, cutting him off, and Eddie laughs. “Okay, that answers that. Come on.”

Buck gets off the sofa and reaches for the sheets he normally uses to make up a bed, and Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “If I’m gonna be waking you up on concussion watch, I’m not coming all the way out here every time. Just come to bed with me.”

Buck raises his eyebrows, and Eddie flushes, then laughs. “You know what I mean,” he says. “Let’s go.”

—

He expects it to be awkward, the two of them getting ready for bed together, but they move around each other like they’ve been doing it their entire lives. Buck shucks his sweatpants and slips under the covers, settling against the unfamiliar pillows.

Eddie slides in next to him, holding his phone up and squinting at the bright light. “Okay, you think twice will be enough?”

“Twice what?”

“Concussion checks,” Eddie says. “I’ll wake you up twice to check everything is okay.”

“You gonna tell me to count to ten and ask me who the president is?” Buck asks.

“God, no,” Eddie says. “It’s an election year, I don’t even want to think about it.”

Buck snorts. “Fair enough.”

He expects to have a hard time falling asleep, in an unfamiliar bed with Eddie stretched out next to him, but it feels like he’s barely blinked before Eddie’s shaking him awake.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, and Buck mumbles something unintelligible in return.

Eddie’s fingers find Buck’s side, just above his hipbone, and dig in.

“Hey!” Buck mutters, twitching away. “What was that for?”

“I need you awake to check if you’re coherent,” Eddie says. “Okay, what’s seven times nine?”

“You know I don’t have the lightning math superpower anymore, right?”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “It’s times tables.”

Buck groans. “Okay, what did you say?”

“Seven times nine.”

“Ugh,” Buck says. “Sixty-three.”

“What did we watch with Chris last week?”

Buck frowns. “I’m supposed to remember?”

“You remember the magnitude of every earthquake to ever hit Los Angeles, by year, but you can’t remember what we watched last week?”

“They’re different kinds of memory,” Buck says. “Was it Jaws?”

“Jaws was the week before,” Eddie says. “But that’s good enough.”

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Buck asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs. “See you in a couple of hours.”

Buck mumbles a response, but most of it is lost in his pillow.

The second time Eddie’s alarm goes off, Buck blinks his eyes open and finds his face pressed into Eddie’s arm. He’s more awake this time, awake enough to realise how much of his body is pressed against Eddie’s, how their legs are intertwined and Eddie’s arm is thrown over his waist.

“Eddie,” Buck murmurs, and Eddie shifts, groaning. “You need to ask me concussion questions.”

Eddie makes an uninterpretable noise that shifts into a yawn halfway through, then yawns again for good measure.

“Okay,” he mumbles, “Okay. What’s heavier, a pound of bricks or a pound of feathers?”

“They’re both a pound,” Buck says. “You’d need a hell of a lot of feathers, though.”

Eddie snorts. “We should test it. Tomorrow, when I’m more awake.”

“You’re on,” Buck says. “Come on, ask me something else.”

“I said I wouldn’t ask about the president,” Eddie says. “Uh, do you know what year it is?”

Under cover of darkness, Buck rolls his eyes. “It’s 2024,” he says. “Which doesn’t feel real, but I’m pretty sure that’s because it’s January, not because my brain is broken.”

“Pretty sure you’re right, unless my brain is broken, too,” Eddie says.

Buck doesn’t so much decide not to say anything else as they fall into silence, shrouded by the darkness of Eddie’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning. Beside him, Eddie’s breathing slows into the steady rhythm of sleep, and slowly, Buck too starts to drift off.

The last thing he’s aware of before falling asleep is that Eddie is still wrapped around him.

—

When dawn breaks, and Eddie’s alarm goes off for the third time, Buck opens his eyes with Eddie’s back tucked against his chest, his arm around Eddie’s waist and his forehead against the back of Eddie’s neck, Eddie’s leg tucked between his. Eddie’s skin is warm, and Buck can feel the steady thrum of his pulse.

Eddie silences the alarm, but he doesn’t move. Buck shifts, just enough so Eddie knows he’s awake, but neither of them move.

He’ll blame it on the concussion that wasn’t, Buck thinks, if Eddie questions it. He’ll say he wasn’t fully awake yet. He’ll say he dreamt he was wrestling a shark, and didn’t realise the warm mass in his arms was Eddie.

Sharks are cold-blooded, a voice in his head whispers, and Buck pushes it away. That isn’t the point.

The point is that he’ll find some way to explain it away if Eddie ever asks, but for now—

He’s awake, and Eddie’s awake, and neither of them moves.

#911fic #buddie #buddie fic #shush emma #emma writes

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

how are you even alive?

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘love is watching them do stupid things’

rated t | 1,351 words | cw: minor injury, suggestive language | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, the hurt is Steve being stubborn, the comfort is Eddie loving him even though he should accept help

♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️

Twice a year, Steve deep cleaned the house.

Eddie had never witnessed anything like it before.

It’s not that he and Wayne were slobs, but they just did what was necessary, never spending an entire week going over a checklist a mile long to cover every inch of their house.

Steve did.

He said that when he was young, his parents hired people to do it and he was always fascinated with the way the house smelled so fresh for weeks after. He loved watching something go from dusty to shiny, loved seeing the way the windows glistened without any fingerprints from him.

And as he got older, his parents stopped hiring people and just expected it to get done, so he did. And he loved it.

Eddie couldn’t understand it, but he did love the way Steve’s eyes lit up when they got to his cleaning weeks in March and September. He’d plan it all out on a notepad by room, made a list of cleaning supplies he needed, and put stars next to things Eddie would have to help him with.

There were few stars, thankfully.

Eddie didn’t really mind helping. It was his home, too, and any time spent with Steve was time well spent. But the bleach sometimes bothered his sinuses and he’d end up coughing and sneezing for two days after.

He checked the lists now and noticed his name was only on three things:

Flip mattresses

Gutter cleaning (hold ladder and refill pressure washer)

Bookshelves (remove all books, dust, put books back)

He fist pumped once at the realization that he got off easy this time, much easier than he’d been expecting.

Actually, he almost always was enlisted to help with holding the ladder when Steve dusted the-

A bang interrupted his thoughts and he ran without even thinking what it could be.

He walked into the kitchen to see Steve on their ladder, some kind of homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“What was that noise?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Steve reach as far as he could without falling off the ladder. He’d probably land on his feet from that height and be fine, but it wouldn’t exactly feel great.

“Dropped the other bottle I had hanging on my belt. It’s fine, just furniture polish. I can get it when I’m done dusting,” Steve was busy, barely even glanced back at Eddie as he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a supervisor?” Eddie found the furniture polish and set it on the counter, watching as Steve furiously rubbed at the top of the cabinets.

“I don’t. But gutter cleaning is tomorrow and I’ll need one then.”

“Steve…”

“Don’t Steve me. I’m fine! I’m already halfway done.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped away, not wanting to argue with Steve when he was at his happiest.

“Can you put the radio on please, baby? I forgot to before I climbed up here.”

Eddie went over to the radio on the kitchen table and turned it on, surprised to find it tuned to the rock station instead of the hits station.

“Well color me shocked! Were you listening to,” he gasped and held his chest. “Rock?”

“Yes, I was. But if you’re gonna make a big deal about it then change it to the hits,” Steves eye roll was almost audible.

“No, no. Let’s listen to Def Leppard, sweetheart. It’s been my dream for one whole minute to check out your ass while listening to Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

Steve snorted, but continued his work.

Eddie continued watching.

And then Steve wobbled a little. He caught himself, but Eddie stood up straighter.

He wobbles more and Eddie started to move towards the ladder to hold it steady.

But it was too late.

Steve was already falling.

He landed on his ass with a yelp and a groan, the washcloth and bottle flying across the floor.

“Shit, Stevie, you okay?” Eddie crouched down next to him, hands cupping his cheeks as he looked him over.

“Yeah. Just twisted my ankle a little when I tried to catch myself,” Steve gestured down at his ankle. “Might need to ice it before I clean more.”

“Maybe you should rest so it doesn’t swell.” Eddie rolled the sweatpants he was wearing up and saw the way it was already swelling. “Okay, you have no choice but to rest since it’s swelling.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that after we ice it,” Eddie said as he gently moved his ankle left and right to see if it was broken.

Steve snorted. “Of course this would happen the first day of my spring cleaning.”

“Maybe if you’d let me supervise earlier…”

“I never lose my balance on the ladder! I thought I’d be fine.”

“Steve, you remember how last year when you were cleaning the pool you insisted the water wouldn’t overfill because of the filters?” Eddie smirked. “And then 6 hours later we were trying to rescue your pool chairs from floating away?”

“That isn’t the same!”

“And then when we first moved in and you insisted you could paint the ceiling yourself and you insisted on handpainting instead of a roller because it wouldn't be even to you and then you dripped paint everywhere and we had to get new carpet? Remember how you ended up breaking your finger because you insisted on rolling the carpet yourself?"

"Okay, that was just bad luck."

"And when you put out the Christmas decorations last year while I was helping Wayne with his truck and I came home to you stuck on the roof?"

"Listen, I am almost 100% sure one of the neighbor kids knocked the ladder over. There was no other way!"

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure how you're even alive. You're asking for an accident to happen."

"Weren't you supposed to be getting me ice?" Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. "You want help getting to the couch first?"

"Nope. It's cleaning week. 20 minutes with an ice pack and then I'm back to dusting."

Eddie shook his head. "You're ridiculous. We'll ice it for 20 and then you're gonna rest for at least an hour so we know if we need to wrap it and keep weight off of it."

"I'm fine, Eds."

"Humor me, sweetheart."

It's a damn good thing Steve did because an hour and a half later, they were on their way to the emergency room for x-rays.

As the doctor told them both that Steve seemed to have fractured a small bone in his ankle, Eddie did his best not to look too smug.

"It won't require a cast or boot, but I do recommend ice every couple of hours and staying off of it as much as possible for the next week or so. If anything starts to hurt worse, come back for a boot."

"Thanks, doc." Eddie waited until the doctor left the room to turn to Steve. "How about next time you want to dust above the fridge and the top of the cabinets, you let me be there to catch you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine."

Eddie kissed his lips softly, barely brushed them just in case someone decided to walk in again. "You want me to stop on the way home to get some more pain meds?"

"Please."

"You hurtin'?"

"A little."

"You want me to take your mind off it?" Eddie wiggled his brows suggestively. "I can keep your ankle elevated, even."

"We'll see when we get home. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Someone has to do the cleaning, baby. Since I can't, looks like you've got a checklist to get to."

"Or we could just put off the cleaning until your ankle heals."

Steve shook his head. "No, I think you can handle it. I'll supervise."

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Eddie groaned.

"Don't forget I'm also very good at sucking your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's go before you get us discriminated against."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is watching them do stupid things #established relationship #cw: minor injury

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ceruleancattail · 22 days

Text

A Red Heart

Mystic Au

Ruggie x reader

Tw: yandere, gore. Lots of gore. Man’s insane but Y’know I love that so-

All you could see was red.

Spread across his lips, splattered out in a shocking mess of crimson and brown, flakes of blood peeling off like a badly-painted wall. Drops of scarlet drip off his chin, almost like a beast’s wild slobber. His shirt was scratched up, one sleeve ripped clean off, stray threads fluttering away with his every breath.

He kneeled in right before the door, fingers curved into crescents. There were claws, at the end of those fingers. Short, yet viciously sharp. You’ve seen him rip apart packets of chips and paper packaging like it was nothing. It somehow never occured to you what those claws could do to skin. They were coated with grime and blood, red and gummy under his nails.

Vaguely, you could see chunks of flesh strewn around on the ground, ripped into indescribable chunks of gore. Thrown around your floor, coated with the crimson of blood. Hesitantly, you nudge one with your finger.

Warm.

It was still fucking warm.

A chill raced down your spine, settling itself deep into its base. Ice ran rampant through your veins, freezing your bones ice cold. Your heart thumped, throwing itself against its cage of bone again and again, in a futile attempt to escape.

Rooted to the spot, you could feel the bile rise up your throat. Lapping at the back of your throat, acidity burning into the flesh of your mouth. Pressing its way into to your tongue, the vile liquid threatening to spill off your lips at any moment.

The man… no, the creature sitting kneeling right before you raised his head slowly, a wide toothy grin spreading across his lips. To your disgust, it was the same smile. The fanged, crooked grin that he smiled, eyes crinkling right alongside with it.

The same smile you’ve always found cute.

The familiar, warm smile of your Familiar.

Forcing the bile back, you manage to stutter:

“What… have you done, Ruggie?”

Ruggie tilts his head to the side, a somewhat endearing little gesture. Furry ears twitching ever so slightly, those bright cerulean eyes of his staring straight into your own.

You used to think they were beautiful. A clear blue, like the boundless vastness of the sky. Yet now, those same eyes unsettled you, with their clearness. With their calmness. No matter how hard you searched, you couldn’t even find a smidge of remorse within those irises.

“Aw, you came home earlier today, huh Master?”

Hands pushing against the ground, Ruggie leaps right back onto his feet, that sickening grin still plastered across his blood soaked lips. He takes a step closer, swaying ever so slightly. Unsteady, shivering from the excitement of a beast who’s just successfully sunk its teeth into its prey. You could just barely make out the gleam in his eyes, and the instability of it all.

“Who did you…”

your voice falters, trailing off into the silence. What word could you have used? What English word could ever describe the savageness of which Ruggie attacked his poor victim, tearing they apart with both claw and fang? How could you ever come up with a word that encompassed this dastardly act of primal rage?

You were answered with a husky laugh, before a hand lands on your shoulder. A reassuring pat from Ruggie, yet you still winced from the sheer force of his palm.

“What does it matter? They’re dead.”

Ruggie shrugs, shoulders moving up and down fluidly.

“Ain’t no point to having a name to haunt your nightmares, yeah? I know humans are screamish about stuff like this.

I tried to be considerate about ya, y’know? I can’t have my master hurling nilly willy all over the floor. But it ain’t my fault you came home early today.”

His lips twitch upwards ever so slightly, a sort of sadistic amusement leaking out of it.

“That’s on ya.”

Ruggie bends down, wiping off his hands the best he can with the cloth of his pants, before he reaches for your hand. Clutching it tightly, damn near squeezing the life out of your palm. With a sharp yank, you stumble forward. Forced to follow Ruggie’s pace, as he leads you further into the gory scene.

You stop in front of a mangled corpse, almost rendered unrecognisable by Ruggie. The fingers were all scorched, and gnawed at, removing every single fingerprint on it. Part of it had been burnt, disfigured into some monstrosity of raw, throbbing red.

Without any hesitation, Ruggie plunges his hand into the corpse’s chest, digging around for something or another. Every move he made was accompanied by a disgusting squelch, blood staining his arm like a glove.

Despite all of that, Ruggie was still smiling. Chattering on cheerfully, as he continued his search.

“I wanted this to be a surprise, but you’re already here, so might as well.”

Finally, he finished out something. Something the size of his palm, throbbing and squirming in his very hands. A heart. A fucking human heart. Ruggie cradled it softly within his bloodstained palms, the organ still trembling within his hands.

“Humans use hearts to express their love, right? Those little valentine cards, all red and lovely… I figured it’ll be much more romantic if i actually got ya’ a real one.

I put in all that extra effort just for ya, master. Aren’t you just so grateful?”

He slides the organ into your hands, gently closing his fingers around yours. Guiding you into cradling the heart tenderly, softly. Like something beautiful, precious. Like something valuable, forged out of life itself.

Forcing you to hold onto the weight of his sin,

making your hands just as stained as his was.

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missdaytonawrites · 8 months

Text

liar • a. anderson

summary - manny and abby find you alone one night and take you back to the stadium, abby does everything in her power to swallow her feelings about you. even if it means pushing boundaries and lying. (enemies 2 lovers w/ abby's mean ass.)

WC - 4k

cw/tw - 18+ MDNI, post!outbreak abby, mean!abby, afab!reader, talk of guns and infected, seriously abby's unreasonably bitchy, talk of alcohol, abby cannot tell the truth to save her life, dom/sub dynamics, hurt/comfort kinda??? fingering (r! receiving) getting caught (if u squint girl, not really) apologetic!abby. slightly, every-so-barely, for a literal split-second... sub!abs, (mainly sub!r tho..) spitting, tribbing ooooh, abby smokes cigarettes, so does r! apparently, little bit of fluff, i kinda hate the ending?? maybe a pt. II to this will happen idk don't ask lol.

A/N - ..heeey people... here it is!!! i recently (like two days ago recently) gained a pretty serious injury on my pinky toe and i've been literally bed-ridden so i had no choice but to get this out. i love this song, i've heard this song live, this song is so request-this-is-based-on coded so!!!! (*edit* nonnie if u see this i hope u love it mwah) i kid you not i started writing this on the two-hour drive home from the paramore concert and i've just now finished it. i'm super personally proud of this and i will say -- YOU 100% HAVE GOT TO, LISTEN TO THE SONG WHEN YOU READ. with most of my other fics, it's really optional but for this?/!:?):!; put headphones in, turn this song on loop, AND THEN READ!!! it will completely enhance the fic. thanks 4 readin as always, love you crazy bitches.

"love is not an easy thing to admit, but i'm not ashamed of it."

this was fucking gross, the dirt was cold and wet. bordering on mud status and now seeping into the cloth of your shorts & t-shirt as you lay into the earth. you were tired and just needed some rest before you continued on. the old abandoned house you had been using as shelter became over-ran with some infected while you were out one day. so it was back to the forest floor for now.

gross, cold, and wet. the way she had found you, curled up and fast asleep on the ground, she almost wished that she felt bad. she didn’t though, instead for a split second she forgot manny had been following behind her as she took the barrel of her gun to press into the side of your face. she pressed in a little harder and you shot awake at the feeling of something touching your teeth through your cheek. your eyes fly open and they’re met with two shadowy figures above you.

one is a lot larger than the other, the one who had been poking you with the gun crouched down to get a better look at you. through her inspection, manny could be heard behind her muttering something about “we can’t just leave her here, abs.” abby didn’t really care for what he was saying, instead she was silently cursing herself for the emotion that began to crowd her train of thought. abby had toughened herself up enough so these sorts of things wouldn’t happen. she, or the rest of the WLF couldn't afford any emotional attachments. abby didn't need to be going out and developing crushes on sleeping beauties in the woods. yet here she was…

maybe that's why she grew to detest you so severely. treating you so harshly so her mask didn't slip, it was the only way for her. especially the night they found you. she couldn’t even begin to fathom how badly she wanted to just grab you up, take you back to clean you off and keep you safe with the rest of them. instead, she shook you (and manny’s new found excitement, like they found a stray puppy) off, pulling her gun away from your face and stepping about eight feet far from you to speak with manny.

it was back and forth the entire time, manny weighing in all the pros while abby lays out all the cons. true childish banter begins to ensue and abby begrudgingly agrees to bring you back with manny, claiming he’ll “deal with any consequences.” they walk back over to where you lay, awake and pissed. you had just started to fall asleep for fucks sake, “look, you’re coming with us. don't argue and just be grateful that it's we who ran across your ass and not some raider." abby sighs then pinches the bridge of her nose, you would like to argue but the darker haired one looks rather excited for you to be coming, so you bite your tongue for now.

it had been six months since that night… six months of falling in love with your new life at the stadium, six months of manny becoming the closest friend you’ve ever known, six months of training.. six months of a total cold shoulder from abby. you didn't even know if you could call it that, lord knows she never spared her snarky comments towards you at dinner or when the two of you got paired together on runs. always saying something about how you never do anything right, then carrying on while she tells you all the reasons they should've just left you there in the forest to rot.

you take on each day with your head high, trying not to let abby bother you. even if you couldnt seem to crack her fucking issue with you, reminding yourself that everyone else enjoys you and is glad you joined them. especially manny, he was a great pal, always sitting with you at dinner and reading with you. one night he had pulled you out of your book and talked you into having a drink with him, so you did. the two of you passed the bottle back and forth all night, intoxicating yourself enough to blab about abby.

“i just don’t fuckin’ get it, i guess.” taking another swig, you chuckle and hand manny the bottle back. “maybe i just see myself differently than she does.” he looks like he’s thinking and before he can say anything you start again, “does she talk about me? i mean, have i done anything to her that i’m just oblivious to?” manny doesn't say anything, just throws back whatever is left in the whiskey bottle and looks at you sympathetically.

“she doesn't really talk to anyone about things like that, maybe you did.. nobody will ever know.” you sigh and cross your legs. you and manny enjoy the silence for awhile before there’s some shuffling to the side of you two and then just like magic, there’s abby. rearing her mean little head like she heard you twos conversation. much to your chagrin, she did and as she takes her seat next to manny she whacks his shoulder and grumbles something along the lines of “couldn't save any for me..?”

abby's presence captures all of manny's attention while she talks him into going to grab another bottle, you sit uncomfortably and slightly tipsy as she finally convinces him. he gives you a little salute before heading off, leaving you and abby alone. you feel the liquor drop like an anchor in your stomach and your eyelids become heavy, you suddenly aren't sure how much longer you wanna stay.. where did she come from? if she was listening, why? you could have sworn manny said everyone else was out for the night..?

you’re so deep in thought that you don't notice abby has moved closer to you, and has been slowly muttering in your ear this whole time. it isn’t until she is literally snapping her fingers in front of your face, that you pull yourself out of your trance. when you turn to look her in the eyes, you notice just how close she had gotten. taking a sharp breath she starts again, even slower this time, like you wouldn't understand if she were to say it any faster. “i don’t see you differently, i see you for what the fuck you are… n’ i can’t say i’m the biggest fan”

you swallow and feel as if you’ve shrunk beneath her very gaze, “keep my fucking name out of your mouth, got it?” subconsciously scooting away from her, you nod quickly and avert your gaze. she snaps again, and your eyes shoot back to hers. “say it. tell me that you got it through your goddamn head,” and she moves closer. “now!” you squeak out a shaky “got it!” before standing and making your exit. on your leave, you can hear abby laugh at the situation from down the hall.

she has never taken something that far before? you can’t even recall a time she’s been that close to you before. guilt starts to float around you like a cloud above your head. you cannot believe you let her bother you so much that you left without saying a “good night.” or “thank you!” to manny.

flopping face-down on your cot, you conjure an idea; you rummage through all of your belongings to find some pen and paper. you write manny an explanatory note and let him know a little about what happened.

finishing up your letter, you can faintly hear him and abby laughing from your room.

“ah, abs.. you’ll have to get over yourself and tell her eventually.” he sighs and you can hear abby hiss at the thought. “nah man, i’ve already-” and then you remember how shes made you feel before, you decide you’re done eavesdropping and suddenly decide to no longer give manny the piece of paper you had been writing him. crumpling the note, you throw it at the wall and lay down to read.

an entire two weeks pass, you can confidently say you’ve not once thought about abby. her lack of kindness fails to phase you as the days pass. you’ve stopped eating with the group, opting for meals in your room instead. you’ve only really talked with manny only enough to ensure you and abby aren't partnered up for anything. it was smooth sailing for another two weeks, a whole fucking month passes and you cannot believe she’s really left you alone. you honestly didn't think she was capable, but alas, she hadn't even barely looked your way. you can’t help but let your mind race before you sleep about why? was she respecting your request? had manny scolded her? you remembered what manny had told you and settled with the fact that you’d never know.

one night, as you make your bed and pack your bag for the week, there's a quick rasp of knuckles on your door. “heeeeey! i know you’re in here, let me in.” manny, and he sounded drunk. unlocking the door and rolling your eyes, he stumbles in and flops down on your freshly made cot. “we have got to taaaalk..” he hiccups and rolls over to face you, “i need to know, please-” burping and then bursting out in laughter he rubs his eyes and sits up. “what reeealllyy happened that ni-ght.” you didn't think you could roll your eyes back any further than they did at that very moment, practically dismissing him you say: “i don't know what you’re talking about, what night?” burping, he looks at you like you’ve lost it, “c’mon, don't do that. i just want to know if she's telling me the truth…”

in that moment, your head whips around and you’re sure your eyes bugged out of your head. “the truth? what did she say happened?” manny matches the shocked expression on your face for a split second and then erupts in laughter, you worry for what he’s about to say. “look, don’t let this- this, don't tell her i said this.” swallowing and moving closer to him, you sit on the cot with manny while he tells you this extravagant story all about what “happened” that night.

apparently, that night, you told abby to her face that you thought she had a problem with you. apparently, on that same night you also caught an attitude with abby and got in her face. apparently, you stormed off in a drunken rage after allegedly jumping all over her case.

furious, you were so fucking mad. there were simply no words in the goddamned english dictionary to fathom how angry you were with her. she lied! right through her teeth! to manny of all people! about you! there was no holding back anymore, returning to the moment, you spare no gory details as you tell manny what really happened. to say the least? he wasnt very happy, you told him you were scared of her and didnt say anything sooner because you swore to “keep her fucking name out of your mouth.”

the conversation sobered manny up enough for him to apologize on abby's behalf and then exit rather quickly, leaving you to go to bed. you just can’t justify falling asleep, though. not until you make a plan, to your knowledge abby has no reason to be treating you the way she is; the only thing to do now is talk to her. you can be civil, at this point you just need to know why. so in a futile attempt to sleep, you rehearse with yourself what you’re going to say to abby tomorrow.

you wake up to bright sun, bam, right there in your eyes. you practically hiss and you turn away from your window, regaining your vision when your senses are flooded with an overwhelming scent of pine… you thought you were having a stroke, so you sit up and take in your surroundings. upon further inspection, and the realization that you’re definitely not having a stroke, you look around your space and low and behold..

there’s abby. hair falling loosely about her shoulders, still in her pajamas, sitting there just as annoying as the sun. you see her and glare, the tone of your morning immediately shifts and you turn away from her the same way you did with the morning light. grumbling something at her about how she needs to leave and how you two would do this later. you thought your point had been made until she grabs your arm and stops you from laying back down.

“look, i seriously can’t do this anymore.” she pulls you hard enough that you’re sitting up again. “i feel so fucking guilty, i don’t think i could even put it into words.” you almost laugh in her face, actually. “can’t do what anymore, abby? walk around and spew nothing but hate for me?” you realize how close she is and you reach out to shove her. putting some distance between the two of you, she opens her mouth to speak again but you interrupt her. “is it the whole lying to manny thing that made the guilt finally kick in, anderson?”

she returns to her spot in the chair on the far side of your room and sits, she chews her cheek while you rub your eyes. “don’t got anything to say now, huh?” she looks at you like she wants you to finish.. so you do. “i told you to go away, abby. we could’ve handled this later.” she stands up and walks over, sitting and occupying the empty space on your mattress next to you.

“i can’t keep living like this. fuck, fuck!” she shouts and stands, wiping her hands on her forehead. “i don’t know how to do this, and you aren't making it any easier.” you are genuinely astonished, in utter disbelief that she’s the angry one and that you’re gonna have to spell this out for her. “how about sorry? maybe go tell manny yourself that you are a fucking liar?!”

in that very moment, smoke might as well of blown out of her ears like a damn cartoon, “yeah. a liar.” she huffs and sits again. “lied to manny, lied about wanting you to keep my name out of your mouth.. lied about hating you.”

your jaw dropped, mouth literally hanging open as she continues, “i don’t know why, there’s no excuse. i am so fucking sorry.” she moves closer to you and puts her hand on your arm, gentler this time. “i haven’t said this to anyone in years, but i think i love you.” gazing down to her hand on you, then back up to her eyes you swallow the lump sitting in your throat. you don’t know what to say.

“abby, i,” you sigh and chew your lip, “i wish i knew what to say, this is all-” and then her hand moves up, silencing you when her thumb swipes over the expanse of your lips and then rests at the corner of your mouth. she leans into you and offers you two more words, “don’t talk..” then closes the gap between you two.

your lips are like heaven, everything she could have ever wanted. every night when she would fall asleep dreaming of them, this is it and more. she feels like she is fucking floating. she doesn't know what to do with her hands; they tangle in your hair, slide and touch your arms and then come up to cup your cheeks while she pushes into you impossibly further.

she breaks the kiss every now and then to mutter an “i’m sorry.. m’so so sorry, baby.” pulling away completely to admire you. she’s panting so heavily as she goes to pull your tank top up and off, immediately ducking down to take a nipple into her mouth. the cool air of your room hits you, head rolling back and around when you peer down at her, she locks eyes with you. pulling off you with a pop, she comes back up to kiss you again. except this time, its not a makeout, just short desperate pecks all over your face while she hurries to get your shorts off of you.

you help her out and shimmy out of them, completely bare, you fall back on your elbows and spread your legs for her. she lets out a low whistle and shakes her head, chuckling as she whispers, “goddamn foolish to deny myself of this..” bringing her middle and ring finger to rub circles around you.

she moves them down and pushes the two into you, twisting and curling them against your walls. you gasp and drop your head again, hands balling up into fists. abby notices your open mouth and kisses you again, pushing her tounge into your mouth and really fucking kisses you. her free hand rolls your nipple and then wraps in your hair, exposing your neck for her to suck and bite. “pussy’s so good..” whispering against your neck, fingers still fucking you while crude sounds bounce and echo off your walls.

she pulls her fingers out and hovers them over your clit. she looks down at your dripping center, wets her lips, and then looks back at you. “may i?” she asks and brings her fingers to her mouth to taste. her eyes knock to the back of her head and she brings her fingers down to rub you some more, “god, please let me, baby”

while you barely manage to moan out a response abby has already wondrously found her way down to your core, latching herself to your clit. she groans into you while your hips instinctively buck into her mouth. as if the sensation of her devouring you wasn't enough, her fingers plunge into you. writhing beneath her, your hands find a home in abby’s hair; and if her head weren’t literally between your legs, you would have stopped to comment on how soft her blonde locks are.

abby continues to fuck you with her fingers when all of the sudden, her mouth is pulling off of your pussy and delving into your lips yet again. the contact has you whimpering and an unfamiliar heat sizzles in your lower belly. you pull away from the kiss in attempts to speak, but to no avail as she simply just follows you back and keeps kissing you. “don’t run from it, baby.. don’t run from me.” she pulls away from your face and drives her fingers into you, fast and mean and determined.

your breathing quickens and you’re suddenly so much more aware of the way she's leaning over you, the darkness in her eyes, the way she’s heaving as she watches your body react to her touch. you’re close, so, so indescribably close to the edge; just about to explode beneath her when.. knock knock knock!

“abs?! you guys in there?” manny, banging on your door to innocently check the status of you two’s “making up.” abby’s eyes flicker down to yours and her free hand flys to her own lips, pressing a single finger to them, hushing you. “i got this, stay quiet.” she whispers and gives you a peck then clears her throat. “yeah man! we’re all good, just talkin’!” she shouts at him, never once slowing her pace while your orgasm just bubbles within you.

manny laughs, “cool, cool. just wanted to make sure you aren't like.. murdering her or anything.” abby laughs this time, murdering something else for sure, and lets him know you two will be out soon enough. you hear his footsteps trail off, and without a second to think, abby’s kissing you again. you whine against her lips and she coos, practically begging you to cum on her fingers.

“let go, give it to me baby, please.” your legs spasm and she chuckles, bringing her thumb to your clit as you gush onto her fingers. hips circling and following the movements of her thumb while you ride it out, abby watches in amazement. she removes her fingers from you as you come down, and makes quick work of her own bottoms. discarding them on the floor, she grabs one of your legs for leverage and swings one of her own over your torso. positioning her pussy right over your own, she trails a line of kisses down your calf and to your knee. resting her forehead against your leg and huffing when she finally grinds down into you.

your mouth falls agape, and you reach to touch her; any of her. her arms, her hips, her chest. gasping while she bites the meaty part of your calf, you buck into her and she throws her head back at the increased friction.

“such a good girl, y’know that..? so fucking good..” her hips rut back and forth and sweat drips from her forehead and runs down your leg. looking down at where the two of you connect, abby spits on to the both of you and fucks you harder. she’s the one to whine this time, so fucking pent up from living with you for fucking months and not already doing this. guilt starts to grow heavy in her stomach again and she whimpers then kisses your ankle, folding your leg to rest against her shoulder. she looks down at you and cups you face, clit still rubbing against you. “m’sorry.. fuck.” she grips your face harder and her pace quickens, incoherently mumbling out apologies and you feel your second orgasm start to swirl.

you shush at her and move your own hips quicker to keep up, “no, no abby, please..” she throws her head back again and her hands move to grope at your tits, you look up at her with forgiving eyes. nodding, as if to telepathically tell her that it's okay. that you want this and that you forgive her, she nods back and groans as loud as you’ve ever heard. you lightly tap her bicep and bring her back to the moment. whimpering, “gonna cum again, abs, please..”

she breathes and nods her head again, “m’almost there baby, almost..” sniffling, she really pushes down into you and her hips falter just slightly. “want you to cum with me, ‘kay?” she keeps fucking herself against you and you tremble, trying to move with her but you’re too lost in pleasure.

she winces and bucks her hips criminally fast; ushering you, and herself, to finally let go. she pants and sweats above you, her own orgasm crashing into her while you cling to her for dear life. pathetically writhing into her as you begin to unravel yourself. melting back into the bed sheets as she rides the both of you through your highs. her hips begin to slow and she’s kissing up and down your leg again. nudging her nose against your thigh, with a finalizing and triumphant breath.

you slowly creep back into reality and feel abby's weight shift off and away from you, just barely noticing her shimmy her shorts back up. she wobbles out of the room and returns with a damp towel, wiping the two of you down. she lets you lay and rest while she digs in her shorts pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, she takes one out and lights it, and then crawls into bed with you.

she tucks you under her arm and wraps your blanket around you both, taking a long drag from her smoke and flicking the ash somewhere to her side. exhaling and turning the cigarette towards you, she slides the filter between your lips and lets you get a good pull.

it stays this way for a while, quiet and still. wrapped up in eachother, you two finish the smoke together and she puts it out right on your concrete floor. she pulls you in even closer and kisses your head. you sigh and close your eyes, saying it back for the first time, “i love you too, abby.”

jeeeeez, editing this was sooo headache-flavored. anyway! happy reading! wish me a decent recovery, and also?? lmk if you guys want a more in-depth story behind my fucked-up toe or pictures for that matter lol!!!

#abby anderson #the last of us fanfiction #sapphic #tlou fic #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson angst #tlou fandom #tlou 2 smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #abby the last of us #abby x you

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ofallthingsnasty · 1 year

Text

after hours

Pairing: Dog!Hybrid x F!Reader Tags: teratophilia, smut, slice of life, established relationship, knotting, creampie, slight domination loss, (unexpected) piss marking, smidge of possessive behavior, reader wears glasses, minors dni Word count: 2.7k Summary: Your hybrid knows how to make your evenings better, although he can get a little overeager sometimes.

Note: This was an attempt at writing a simple pwp in a short-ish amount of time. I managed to do just that and am really happy with that! It might not be the most polished, but it was still fun. I hope you enjoy and requests are open!

Coming home after a long day of work tastes sweet. There is nothing like slipping off your fancy shoes to feel the floor through the fabric of your socks with aching feet, nothing like turning on all the cozy lights in your apartment and taking a hot shower to wash away the sweat and dust of the day. It’s the thought that makes the way home bearable, that makes you hurry to catch the earliest train home, even. You rarely - if ever, really - come home without being utterly exhausted from fluorescent lights and endless phone calls, craving the comfort of your own home. But by far the sweetest of it all is the welcome your hybrid gives you every single day. Mind stretched thin like gossamer and eyes prickling with exhaustion, you heave yourself up the very last flight of stairs to your apartment, eager to spend the rest of the night on your couch, enjoying a home-cooked meal and the company of your handsome puppy. It’s all you crave at the moment.

Finally reaching your apartment, your key barely turns in the lock before the door flies open already and you almost fall into a pair of strong arms. “You’re home!”, Hunter bellows and swarms around you, busy hands plucking at your lunch bag and your coat, happy to help to get you into your shared home. He stands tall above you, shaggy hair (god, does he need a new haircut already?) disheveled and tail wagging itself into a frenzy. You watch it go left to right and left again, disappearing for a fraction of a section behind his back until it pops up on the other side, white-tipped and bushy. He isn’t the most delicate - your keys land on the floor with a distinct ‘clink’ as he almost rips the sleeve of your coat over your dominant hand, his thick fingers come on a little too strong while he peels you out of your scarf, leaving your blouse ruffled and almost knocking your glasses off your nose. He’s overexcited, as always - but behind his clumsy, rushed movements lies love and the desire to spend as much time as possible with you. He is your first and only hybrid - adopted after being given up due to the cost of his care by his previous owners. He can be needy at times, but he’s always sweet - you couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Cooking, cleaning, companionship - he offers all you’ve ever needed in exchange for a loving home and your heart. Hunter is the biggest, most adorable goof and you love him with every fiber of your being. “Did you have a good day at work? Got much done?”, he blabbers while hanging up your coat and plucking the keys off the floor, tail still showing his excitement. “Did you check out that bakery you wanted to go to for lunch?” You smile at his antics, at the way the words gush out of him while he busies himself with puttering about. “Today was good, I think”, you grin, fumbling to keep the lunch bag he is trying to take from you. “I even got you something!” His movements immediately stop and his ears perk up in wonder, dark eyes sparkling.

“Really? What is it?” Pulling a wrinkled little paper bag from the cotton, you swing it around, soaking in the joy that emanates from him. “Something for dessert.” The hug you’re promptly tackled into squeezes the air from your lungs. Swaying under his massive weight, you laugh, the exhaustion of the day swept away with the gesture. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”, he starts but the rest of his gratitude gets swallowed up by kisses pressed to your cheek. You let him hold you for a bit, savoring the feeling of his warm body against yours, his comforting scent. There is nothing purer than watching him get so pumped over something so small, how the littlest things amaze and charm him. You’re truly lucky to have him in your life, to be able to come home to him every single night. At this point you can’t quite remember what it was like without him - and you don’t wish to.

He only pulls away after you nudge him a little, promptly going back to busying himself with getting you settled, even whines when you don’t let him untie your shoes but goes back to his busy contentment when you scratch him behind his floppy ears, a smile on your face. “I can do that myself, puppy”, you say. And you do just that. With your feet in cozy slippers and your tired arms two bags lighter, you stretch and put your nose up into the air as a rich scent wafts into the hallway, hearty and warm. You inhale deeply, stomach growling in anticipation. “What are you cooking, puppy?” His whole face lights up at the acknowledgement and he beams at you. “Lasagna. After your recipe.” “Oh, wow. You spoil me. When’s dinner?” You swear he couldn’t look happier than he does right now, though his brows furrow just a second later. He clears his throat and his ears flatten with nervousness, the change almost jarring. You only shoot him a questioning look - clumsy as he is, he often breaks things around the apartment. And as docile as he is, he usually thinks you’ll be awfully mad at him, resulting in him beating around the bush until you grow impatient. “Can we- first, can we-”, he starts, voice almost whiny. Whatever he has planned on saying - he doesn’t finish it, instead interrupts himself with a desperate whimper and presses your hand to his crotch with big, pleading eyes. “Oh–”, you gasp softly at the rough feeling of taut jeans under your fingertips. He’s unmistakably hard through the fabric.

You can’t say you’re surprised at this outcome, either. It’s an almost daily occurrence with him, at this point - whether it’s because his libido is just that high or it’s his way of showing you how much he loves you and you him, most days end with you sore from his knot.

“Hunter!”, you laugh out in fake offense, his name on your tongue making him shudder. “Please, please, can we?”, he stutters out, cheeks slowly turning red under your cryptic smile.

You had been aware of hybrids and their particular needs when you first brought Hunter home - for some people, it was the main reason to get them, even - but you didn’t expect him to be that needy. Not that you mind - but never in a million years had you thought you’d be the type to go to work with bite marks and still leaking his cum from last night, barely able to sit. There is no shame in it, of course. You pride yourself in being a good caretaker. He takes your silence as an agreement and pulls you close, eyes already glassy with need. “I’m still sweaty from work- oh-”, you protest - or at least try to, as he’s already fiddling with the buttons on your outfit. “Don’t mind”, he mumbles and then bends down to bury his face in your neck to demonstrate just how much he doesn’t. “You smell better like this anyway” As if to prove himself to you, he sniffs your skin just below your jaw and the sudden flow of air tickles so much it makes the hair on your arms stand up. Humming against your neck, he begins to bite and tease your pulse point until you shiver under his ministrations, your very last bit of resolve melting away. Still, the faint smell of your dinner tickles at the back of your mind. “What about dinner? Isn’t it still in the oven?”, you breathe out. Your hybrid’s needs or not, you aren’t keen on burning your apartment down in a fit of carelessness. “No”, he hums into your skin, then licks it, his tongue rough and hard, pushing itself right into you. “Haven’t put it in yet.” You can’t help but chuckle at that - beneath the facade of a loyal, clumsy hybrid hides a little schemer. “Alright, alright.”

Now with your agreement he’s desperate to strip you down, almost rips the buttons off your shirt until gently push his hands away and open it yourself. The moment your bra is revealed to him he groans and grabs your breasts, kneading them through the fabric. You have no doubts that he’d fuck you right here on the floor until your knees ached if you were to let him, especially as his nipping at your neck turns into biting, teeth sharp enough to sting. When he starts to pull at your pants, you intervene. “C’mon, let’s get on the sofa at least, puppy”, you say, a sentence you’ve used more than two dozen times by now - it’s not your preferred spot by any means, but too many days has he gotten too excited and fucked you on the rug in the hallway, much to the chagrin of your knees.

He whines with impatience but is easily placated with a peck to his cheek and you pull him to the living room. You can barely let go of his hand and reach for a blanket - he all but pummels you onto the couch, back hitting the cushions with a dull thud.

“Puppy-!”, you gasp, a clear warning. “Careful.” Hunter nods eagerly but his gaze is still stupefied, his mind clearly somewhere else.

Grabbing you by your hips, he flips you over as if you weigh nothing, fingers threading themselves into the soft fat of your belly. You land, face down, in soft cotton.

Another shocked puppy, no! spills from your lips as your head gets pressed into the decorative pillows, your plastic flames creaking in protest under the pressure. “My glasses!” And this time, he listens. He’s off you in a second and you turn to your left, world now slightly smudged.

“Sorry, sorry”, he whines behind you, genuinely apologetic. “Forgot about them- ” Reaching for the frames, you pluck them off your nose and blindly throw them on the coffee table, a task severely hindered by the dozens of little kisses and licks he’s peppering all over your back as an apology, his touch almost tickling you.

To his credit, he waits for your nod to continue, his eyes sparkling when you smile at him over your shoulder. He eagerly goes back to making quick work of your pants, tearing them off your legs in a matter of seconds. One final snap and the elastic of your panties is pulled down to your knees, your cunt finally exposed to him. Hunter does little to prepare you - too desperate to fuck you, he just spreads you with both hands and licks one rough stripe over your pussy, whining when the sensation makes you tremble. The rustle of fabric is your only indicator for what is about to come: he hastily shoves his own pants down and rubs his cock against you in all of its entirety, slipping between your lips and making you tense with anticipation. Your cunt aches for him, just as much as it did the first time - and his desire and love for you makes quick of your arousal, as always. You both moan as when he finally enters you, the feeling unlike anything else. He reaches deep in this position and although not over average length, he’s so thick you almost feel impaled. Wasting no time, he immediately sets a pace so fast that it leaves you drooling. It’s uncoordinated and a little clumsy - his grip on your hips loosens and slips and he switches over to supporting himself on the couch instead, with his stomach touching your back. The feeling of his warm, sweaty skin on yours, his teeth in your shoulder and groans in your ear is enough to make you forget about the world around you. He almost moves you off the couch with the power of his thrusts, sheer instinct taking over. You’re only able to brace yourself against the impact by burrowing your face into the soft material, wailing just as loud as he does every time he slams into you. He’s eager like this, eager as always. Relentlessly chasing his own relief, he works you well - his cock moving in and out of you feels like some kind of sweet, almost stinging pain. The sensation builds with every push, with every nibble of his teeth on the delicate skin of your shoulder. You let yourself fall into it for a good while, nothing on your mind aside from the way your bodies connect with each other, how he fucks you silly. It doesn’t take him long to swell inside of you - as impatient as he is outside of the bedroom, he is in bed, after all - and his anatomy betrays him. “Careful with the knot”, you groan, trying to lower yourself onto the couch again. You’re all too familiar with it and know how to make it tolerable at this point.

He listens, even if only half-heartedly, and obediently follows your hips with his, trying to maintain his speed all the while. Not a heartbeat later Hunter moans and pushes himself as far as possible into you, reaching his peak with bared teeth and a growl. Shooting his load deep into you, the feeling of him filling you is enough to push you over the edge as well. You pant and gasp while he lets out an almost high-pitched moan in response, happy to have you fucked stupid on his cock. “I need to- I need to-”, he whines while his knot inflates - it stretches you beyond your capacity and you hiss in discomfort. The burn is almost unbearable but you breathe through it, wait until the pain turns into pleasure. “What do you need? Use your words-”, you can barely press the command out, too focused on the feeling of being unnaturally full of him. It comes out harsher than expected, but he doesn’t seem to mind, gasping at your guttural voice. “Please, I- I need to mark you-”, he grunts, running a sweaty hand over your back. “Need to show everyone that you’re mine.” Before you can ask him to elaborate, he chokes behind you as if overcome with something, then his muscles go slack. It’s hot and wet as it fills you - you can’t help the way your cunt flutters around his knot at the feeling. Still high on your own orgasm, the sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt - but even through your hazy mind you realize that he isn’t cumming a second time - he’s pissing inside of you. “Puppy, no!”, you cry out, genuinely shocked but too tired to scramble away from him - not that it would help you, knotted as you are. He ignores your words, simply continuing to relieve himself, his full weight on top of you.

You can only take it - and the initial surprise melts into a little sting of humiliation, a sudden realization that even though you are the one in charge he can easily hold you down and have his way with you. It’s weirdly intoxicating, to feel so powerless, so small when you should be anything but. He might not have done it to dominate you, but that’s what he’s doing with this gesture and your legs are trembling with another wave of sheer arousal - even as he stops pissing inside of you, you can’t help yourself from moaning at the feeling of liquid in you, the knowledge that he just did as he pleased. You stay intertwined like this for several more minutes, you basking in the afterglow of your orgasm and the embarrassing revelation and Hunter in utter bliss, instincts finally satisfied. His knot goes down with time and, just many times before, you wiggle beneath him, signaling for him to get off you. He complies. The sound is downright unholy as he pulls out, the splat of fluids on your sofa enough to make you cringe, the fabric now undeniably ruined. Hunter only shoots you an embarrassed smile over your shoulder and you frown, already calculating the ensuing costs of getting the stain out in your head. “Bad boy!”

#terato #oc x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #hybrid x reader #oc: hunter #tw.piss #tw.knotting

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gingiesworld · 9 months

Text

Sins of Pleasure

Nun Wanda Maximoff x Inmate GN! Reader (Drabble)

Warnings: Smut. Shameless Smut. Oral (W recieving)

18+ MINORS DNI

Since Y/N was placed in a high security prison for psychopaths and murderers, the cell block's Nun, Sister Maximoff had taken quite a liking to the newest inmate. She would enter their cell of a morning, telling the guards to clear the floor for prayer time.

So like clock work, she entered Y/N's cell, closing the door and sliding the peephole shut.

"Are you ready for prayer?" She asked them with a smirk. They just nodded as they rose to the feet as she hiked up her skirt. "On your knees." She ordered them. She loved how they complied to her every instruction. Making it impossible to feel guilt about going against the oath she took when she first joined the convent.

They licked their lips at the sight of her already soaked underwear. Watching as she pulled them down her silky smooth legs. They could smell her arousal like a rabid animal. Already getting aroused themselves at the sight of her dripping folds.

"Now, be a good little brat and use that pretty mouth of yours." She told them. They didn't need telling twice as they dove right in. Licking a strip through her folds, as she held on to the wall behind where Y/N knelt. "Oh Father forgive me." She moaned as they inserted a finger into her gaping hole. Thrusting at a steady pace. "For I have sinned." She almost screamed when they teeth grazed her sensitive bud as they inserted a second finger. "And I keep on sinning." She gasped when Y/N had hit her G-spot. "I crave for sins of the flesh." She held her breath as she felt herself nearing the edge. "Like the forbidden fruit of Eden."

Y/N continued to work as Wanda was a moaning mess, barely able to continue her prayers, holding in the screams that wanted to escape as she came, Y/N cleaned up every drop before Sister Maximoff stepped away, gripping their jaw.

"Next time, I may need more than that tongue and your fingers." She told them breathlessly as they helped her put her underwear back on, rising to their feet as Wanda still held their jaw. Kissing them roughly, forcing her tongue through their mouth before she sucked on their tongue. Pulling away harshly before leaving a horny Y/N behind to sort themselves out.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #nun wanda’s cross #sister maximoff #i am going to hell ;)

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader[2.7K] soft, desperate end of the world smut.

It didn’t happen like this often, there wasn’t always a need for it. That’s not to say that yours and Steve’s sex life wasn’t plentiful… it just wasn’t always like this.

More than needy, beyond desperate, frantic, wild, the kind of sex you have with someone who almost died in front of you. The kind of sex you have with someone to remind them and yourself that you’re both still fucking alive.

You barely make it inside, adrenaline pumping, blood rushing in your ears and the absolutely insatiable need to feel your boyfriend against you in every way you could because the world had gone to shit and when the Earth had opened up at your feet, it had almost swallowed Steve whole

“Steve,” you whimpered, almost cried, because the lock was stuck and you had your hands pressed underneath his shirt and suddenly, it wasn’t enough anymore.

Vecna was gone. Not dead, not defeated, but gone. Hiding, lurking, somewhere out of sight. The town had cracked into four, split into pieces, a jigsaw puzzle no one knew how to put back together. Not yet, anyway.

That’s why you were here, at Steve’s, under instruction from Hopper to grab what you both needed and meet back at the cabin, ready to leave town, to get somewhere far away — for now. Somewhere where everyone could sit and take a fucking breath. Where everyone could be safe, even just for a day.

But you needed more than clean clothes and a toothbrush, Steve knew that too. He felt it, felt the need, the absolute agony of needing to have you right now.

“Steve,” you said again, voice broken. Your fingers dug into his sides a little, skimming over his ribs as he groaned and swore at the lock. “I need—”

“Baby,” Steve soothed, “I know, I know. Just gimme a m—”

The lock finally clicked, the key turned and you both tumbled into the dark house. It was empty, as always, and you both were told to call each of your parents and explain to them what happened before they saw it on the news channels.

Murray had grabbed you both by the shoulders, the shock slowly wearing off and settling into tiredness, a slow ache in your hearts and your stomachs and your heads. He’d told you to go home, pack a bag, call your parents and tell them you were okay, you were alive and that everything was fine.

(It wasn’t. Nothing was fine.)

He told you to tell them to stay out of town, on their vacations, on their business trips out of state. He told you to tell them that you were going to go to a motel a few towns over, that you were both with the Byers, that chief Hopper was back home and alive and keeping you safe.

It was all too much to explain over one phone call and it was too much to possibly even think about. Because how were you supposed to even begin to do such a thing? How were you supposed to keep your voice from shaking and cracking? How were you supposed to call your mom and tell her that a man had risen from the dead and the office she worked at had sunk into a crack in the earth that looked like the literal gates to hell? How were you supposed to do any of that when Steve was looking at you like he needed you more than air?

That’s why you ignored everything Murray had said, letting Steve slam the door closed behind you as he tossed the keys to the console table at the door, the one with the plastic looking photo of him and his parents, the dead flowers that sat in a crystal vase because no one was ever fucking home.

You let the boy guide you, never rough, just insistent and when he got too impatient, when the clock in the kitchen seemed to tick louder and louder, Steve whined and ducked down to meet you, lips messily slanting over yours as you stumbled into the living room together.

Steve didn’t lift you, not quite, but he tugged you against his body, your toes just brushing the floor as you both crashed towards the sofa. Steve was quick to spin you both, making sure he landed first, pulling you down on top of him until you spread your legs and straddled his thighs, lips never leaving his.

Hawkins was burning but you could only think of the boy.

Your hands shook as they travelled over his sides, his arms, pulling at his jacket until he shrugged it off, eyes clenched shut as you kept kissing him, making the softest, greediest sounds.

“Fuck,” Steve sighed, breath stuttering, “shit, c’mere, let me—”

He leaned up to you, reaching you as you sat on your knees above him, letting the boy grab the hem of your dress and pull it off. It smelled like damp and smoke and gunpowder, like the sting of moonshine from makeshift bombs.

His eyes watered at the sight of your skin, dust covered and scratched and scraped, superficial wounds that looked red and angrier than they were but Steve shook his head at them, as if he could will them away. The boy had watched you from across the hall at Creel house, as helpless and as stuck as you were as you were both forced to stare at the other as vines tightened around your necks and chests.

Real life was a living, breathing nightmare and the only thing that seemed to help you escape it, was the touch that your boyfriend could give you.

Steve was alive.

He was okay, he was safe, he was right in front of you.

It still wasn’t enough.

You were back on him before your dress hit the floor, your hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt that had a torn collar and you were whimpering as you pulled it off, impatient beyond belief.

His hands soothed at you, curling around your ribs, thumbs running circles helped the band of your bra and Steve was making soft sounds that were meant to soothe you.

“S’okay, you’re alright,” he was murmuring, hands roaming without much thought, cupping your damp cheeks, petting over your hair, pulling you into him by the small of your back. “I’ve got you, tell me what you need.”

“You, Steve,” you were crying more openly now, the comedown hitting you harder than you had anticipated and without the rush of adrenaline, there was only upset and fear. “I just need you, Stevie, please.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond, your fingers working at his belt and Steve groaned, his own hands shaking as he tried to help you, both of you pushing his jeans down just enough to free his cock from his boxers. He was already half hard, the sight of you in just your underwear and the need to feel you making him twitch.

“Babybabybaby,” he murmured, “you’re good yeah? Look at me, sweetheart, lemme see your eyes.”

His hand tucked under your chin and lifted it, breathing out when your glassy eyes met his. You were panting, chest heaving, but you were still with him. Steve brushed his thumb under your lash line, swept away a stray tear and brought you back to him for a kiss, needier than before, urgent, a little messy as he licked into you, tongue pressing over yours.

You were almost sure you heard something snap, the ping of elastic as Steve unclasped your bra and dragged it down your arms, hasty and barely looking as he kept kissing you, all teeth and tongue and complete and utter fucking adoration.

He whined into your mouth when your hand wrapped around his cock, letting you swallow his sounds, kissing them from him as you dragged your palm over him, once, twice.

“Need you,” he told you and you tried not to mewl out when you nodded, pushing yourself closer into him, into his touch. “We need to be fast, sweetheart, we shouldn’t even be doing this. Not right now.”

Steve was right, of course. You knew that. You were supposed to be on the phone to your folks as you told them not to worry whilst Steve shoved clothes into a rucksack.

But despite his words, his logic, Steve was hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them to the side, breath stuttering out from his chest as he felt how wet you were. One finger, two fingers pumping in and out until you grabbed at his wrist and pushed your forehead against his.

Your eyes were closed, lips parted, stealing the breath from him as you leaned in, barely kissing.

“Just want you inside me,” you whispered and god, you sounded wrecked. “Please, baby.”

Steve’s head hit the back of the couch as he let it fall back, jaw slack and neck pulled taught. He stared up at you through hooded eyes, fingertips just pushed to your clit, moving slowly enough to make each touch feel like an electrical shock.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he whispered, but you were already pushing up onto your knees to line yourself up with him, the head of his cock brushing against your entrance. “Christ, sweetheart, heyheyhey, shit, go slow.”

You tried to do as you were told, Steve’s hands a strong grip on your hips as you took him in inch by inch, crying out at the stretch. It was the kind of burn you wanted, a slight pinch of pain as Steve bullied his cock into your cunt, gasping at the way you clenched around.

“Fucking hell,” Steve groaned, throwing his head back, eyes clenched shut as he left crescent moon shaped marks on your hips, panting as you took all of him. He whispered your name, the softest noise, the sweetest. “Baby, baby, y’alright?”

His palm coasted up the soft of your stomach, a slow, warm drag of calluses and scars over your tits until his fingers curled around your throat, a gentle hold, enough for your eyes to snap to his.

“Talk to me,” Steve murmured, bringing your forehead to rest against his own, noses bumping, lips brushing. “Let me hear you, pretty girl.”

It wasn’t a request for dirty talk, you knew that. Not when it was like this, no, that’s not what Steve was asking for. He just needed to hear your voice. To know that you were okay, you were here and alive and breathing and safe like he was.

Your breath hitched and hiccuped, lips parting as you whined out. “Steve… Steve, I need you closer.”

It seemed like an impossible ask because the boy was already throbbing inside of you and had every inch of him but Steve just nodded. He’d give you the world if you asked for it, he’d fix the broken one you lived in, he’d stitch it back together and wrap it in a pretty, scarlet bow, just for you.

He brought you in, chest to chest, arms wrapped around you as he helped you move, a rhythm hardly there, because honestly? Neither of you were necessarily chasing an orgasm, just the need to feel the other. But you rocked and started a messy grind over the boy as he held you, your hands tangled in his hair, thick and messy with dust and grime but you didn’t care.

You wondered if it would ease the burn, the ache, the need for the boy. You wondered if you both came, gasping and groaning into each other, you wouldn’t want to cling to him for the rest of the night.

(You doubted it.)

“Atta’ girl,” Steve cooed, voice rough and heavy with desperation, mouthing at your throat, ghosting his lips over your cheek, your chin as he thrust up, hips canting. “My girl; my gorgeous, sweet girl.”

You keened, hands pulling at Steve’s hair a little rougher, making his lashes flutter, his jaw hanging slack as he fucking growled for you. It all turned a little manic then, messy, dirty, desperate.

Nails across skin, grabbing and clawing, hair pulled, lips bitten, marked up throats and aching hips as Steve held you over him, always with a surprising strength. He kept you there, his hands grabbing at your ass as he fucked up into you harder than before and the pressure, the harsh snap of his hips into yours was enough to send you over the edge.

It caught you by surprise, your breath catching in your throat in a low, babbling moan, a squeal, a swear. You clung to him, pulling Steve back to you as you came hard, your cunt slick and clenching down on him, tighter and right until he was crying out and holding you to him.

He snapped his hips one more time, burying himself into you as he came too and you were moaning out loud at the feel of him, cock twitching.

“I love you I love you I love you,” you were chanting as you came down, as you rode out your high, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck as he cried out, mouth open and pressed to your collarbone.

“C’mere,” he huffed, rosy cheeked as he tore away to look up at you, hands wide and clasping at your cheeks. “Baby, I need—”

He cried out as he kissed you, cheeks as damp as yours, the sound wrecked and desperate. You couldn’t get closer, Jesus Christ, he was still inside you and yet it didn’t feel like enough.

“I love you,” the boy mumbled into your lips, the words kissed away and kept, tucked away into a space between your ribs, yours to keep forever. “Love you so fuckin’ much, you know that, don’t you?”

You nodded, sniffling as tears rolled down your cheeks and you both tasted salt, kissing away the fear that you both felt. The night felt impossible.

“Yeah, I know,” you soothed, voice quiet, hands petting over the mess of his hair, “we’re both okay, yeah? We’re all okay.”

And you were. For now, at least. ‘Cause you were still in Steve’s arms and his lips were on your neck, kissing a soft, warm line over your shoulder. And it was selfish the way you stayed there for too long, quiet and safe in the dark of the boy’s living room whilst the world outside the window fell apart.

Neither of you moved until the phone rang, a shrill reality check that echoed through the empty house. You gasped and Steve groaned when you moved off of him, his hands warm on your hips as he helped settle you onto the couch. He handed you your dress and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth before he headed for the phone.

He was buckling his belt as he answered, brows furrowed and bare chest cold at the loss of you. You could hear the buzz of Hopper’s voice through the receiver and it made Steve’s face fall, made his eyes pinch in the corners as he nodded and told the older man,“yeah, we’ll be there soon.”

You were by his side when he hung up, forehead pressed to his shoulder and his hand found yours, fingers tangling as he brought it to his lips, another kiss, another touch, still not close enough.

You knew what you had to do, what you both needed to do. So you took a quick shower whilst Steve packed, the water scalding and running grey and red at your feet. He had fresh clothes for you when you walked back to his room, bare feet soaking the floorboards, hair dripping.

You barely felt the cold, barely registered Steve’s hand on your arm as he brushed past you to shower off the dirt and dust and blood and sex.

Maybe this was shock. Maybe this was the comedown. Maybe this is what happened when you went too long without touching the boy.

But Steve let you hold his hand the whole drive over, his car protesting at the way the roads were pulled apart, potholes and ridges in the tarmac as Steve took the best route he could towards the Byers.

And that was enough, for now.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb

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