#are disco movies even a thing?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gogobootz1 · 4 months

Text

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time.

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him.

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year.

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end.

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate.

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating.

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault.

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back.

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?”

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you.

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow.

“Eat shit!” You call out after him.

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work.

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great.

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings.

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today.

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio.

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously.

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage.

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?”

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling.

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.”

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?”

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket.

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report.

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch.

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.”

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them.

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table.

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance.

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly.

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.”

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come.

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short.

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash.

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old.

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him.

“And when was that?”

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been.

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is.

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher.

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?”

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures.

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock.

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod.

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed.

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?”

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren��t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.”

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door.

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head.

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.”

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head.

“Agreed.”

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit.

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head.

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas.

“You actually embraced the sleepover?”

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits.

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.”

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods.

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment.

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.”

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to.

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

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

#luke castellan x reader #pjo fanfic #luke x reader #pjo series #luke castellan #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #charlie bushnell #luke castellan x you

785 notes · View notes

experimental-intellection · 7 months

Text

I havent thought about this much but you can tell how well Starfleet is doing by how often their crew is at the bar...

ENT: Exploratory military vessel, alien conflict left and right, people mostly do the communal meals thing and drink alone in their quarters. Sir yes sir.

DISCO: People dealing with ethics and universe ending shit way too fucking often. Things too heavy, usually drinking in their quarters or at a non-federation bar with green people.

SNW: Federation at peace again, just came out of the Klingon war, scanning quasars and shit and loving it. Everyone at the bar all the fucking time, amazing any science shit ever gets done at all. Fucking golden age.

TOS: Mother-fucking Trelane and Romulans and fucking Khan and world ending whale probes and shit all the god-damn time. A whole bottle of Saurian brandy in my fucking quarters like a real man.

TNG: On the one hand I got turned into a blacklight alien last week and didn't even get an apology, on the other we got Whoopie Goldberg making Risan Sunsets and dispensing wisdom down in ten forward... maybe a best of times/worst of times kinda deal?

TNG (Movies): Who's got time for drinking on this goddamn ship... fucking Borg.

DS9: HOLY SHIT THE COMMANDER JUST FUCKING PUNCHED Q AND WE ARE ALL STILL HERE AND NOT TURNED INSIDE OUT! QUARK!!! KEEP EM' COMING AND I'M GONNA NEED A HOLOSUITE CAUSE I NEED TO GET LAID LIKE RIGHT NOW!

VOY: We don't have any room on this ship for a bar, and we get in trouble when we get caught sniffing the organic gel packs running the ship, so we are gonna spend all our free time getting drunk on the holodeck till those mother-fucking programs start questioning their existence.

PIC: Guinan! My girl! You are looking fucking fit! Fuck the wine, pass me the Romulan ale!

LOWDeck: Things are chill again (thank fucking god!) Everyone is back at the bar all the fucking time again, amazing any science shit ever gets done, let's never get into it with dangerous dinosaur aliens from the delta quadrant ever again!

#star trek #star trek enterprise #star trek discovery #star trek the original series #star trek strange new worlds #star trek the next generation #star trek deep space nine #star trek voyager #star trek picard #star trek prodigy #star trek lower decks

883 notes · View notes

ruggiezz · 6 months

Text

— PLEASE, DATE MY BROTHER : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] ortho decides to do something about idia's crush on you, taking the role of matchmaker

[extra] ortho reminds me of a minecraft torch. apparently, there’s one called soul torch that's blue? i haven’t played in a while. ALSO, I STILL HAVEN’T FINISHED BOOK 6 HELP ME I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE

-`♡´- What do you mean Idia's social anxiety, awkwardness, and his extensive knowledge of internet slang haven't captivated you yet?Come on, give Idia a chance, please.

-`♡´- Maybe it's the fact he's a robot and he can catch onto things faster than regular humans, but there can be no way you haven't connected the dots yet. Idia invites you to play video games and watch some new anime episodes in his room after classes. He's always talking about you, his hair turning slightly pink when you compliment him for anything he did, and he pays attention to every single word that comes out of your mouth. How hasn't anyone but Ortho noticed that Idia clearly likes you? He's starting to wonder if humans can be that dense or if it’s just you (not to be mean). Ortho isn't taking any of it. If his brother won't do anything to get closer to you romantically, he may as well do it himself in his stead.

-`♡´- Something about Ortho is that he's stubborn. When he decides to do something, he's motivated to do anything to achieve it. The Shroud brothers care deeply about each other; they would do anything for the other to be happy, which means Ortho won't give up. The idea of having you as part of the family makes it worth it. He can already imagine the future you and his brother could have together. Can he be something like a flower girl at your wedding? He hopes he can. But for now, he will have to focus on making you like his brother back first.

-`♡´- His first method is simple. It’s better to start with something small; that’s what his intensive research said. He starts mentioning Idia in every conversation where you're involved: talking about what he did the other day, about something funny he did, complimenting him, and flaunting all of Idia's new works. Ortho can finally use one of the 1,000 random features Idia implemented (Idia himself gets surprised when Ortho uses one because he had forgotten they were even there).

"Oh this? Big brother implemented this cool feature yesterday. My hair can now turn different colors and play music at the same time. Look, it´s like a disco ball!" And then his hair starts switching colors and playing music from Idia’s very specific music taste. He looks like that one disco tree in the Lorax movie.

This method was working, but then something happened. More specifically, Ace and Grim happened. They both got tired of this happening for a week non-stop and told him to talk about something else that wasn't his brother, which didn’t make Ortho very happy. They both went back and forth over the topic, with Ortho defending Idia and Ace getting annoyed over it. It only stopped when Crewel scolded them for talking in class.

-`♡´- Since the first one didn’t work, he had to change plans. The second method was to drag you to Ignihyde to play some games with him in his room. And surprise, Idia is there. Wow, who would have thought? He didn't invite him; he was just there. He CLEARLY didn’t know he would be there. Then final exams season started, and you had to stop coming by so you could study. Also, Idia was starting to get suspicious over what his little brother was up to and how you were always there when he got out of his room.

-`♡´- His last resort was to make the both of you have a date. A date that you both didn’t know was supposed to be a date. Asking you both to hang out with the excuse of wanting to see this new movie that came out, only for him to leave the second the two of you aren’t watching him. He’s so proud of himself too, ignoring your calls as you try to ask him where he is. He leaves you both to have quality time and talk about whatever you guys want.

-`♡´- Now that he has tried all he could do and everything that popped up in his mind, Ortho will ask you to meet him somewhere, where he will ask you how you feel about Idia. He says he will keep it a secret, and he will, but please tell him already; he’s dying to know.

If you do like Idia back, Ortho will cheer and congratulate himself silently for doing such a good job. He’s so happy all his efforts worked, and you and his brother can finally be together! He will even throw confetti (another random feature Idia doesn’t remember implementing) and rub his victory in the face of all the first years, especially Ace and Grim.

Now, if you don't like Idia back, Ortho will short-circuit. It's even worse if you already like someone else, because that makes it harder for him to change your mind. It's not like he will resent you if you don't like his older brother; you’re still his best friend and he's happy for you, but he will mourn for at least a year the fact you could have been part of his family. At the end, he understands you can't force love and that you have the right to be with whoever you want to be, so he will drop it.

Maybe the real ‘you dating Idia’ was the friends he made along the way? Or at least that's what Ortho is going to tell himself while trying to figure out how to make Idia’s heartbreak not hurt that much. Curiosity did kill the cat, huh?

#twisted wonderland #twst #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #ortho shroud #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud #ignihyde

553 notes · View notes

rk-striker-jk-5 · 1 month

Text

You know, I like Hot Rod in the 1986 movie. I don't like the 1986 movie, but I like Hot Rod. He's a good kid overall. And it's kinda interesting/sad that he's one of the best damned deconstructions of the Chosen One archetype I've ever seen.

He beats Unicron! He's got the Matrix! He's the Chosen One even more than Optimus Prime! Great... except Hot Rod 1. has no training in government 1. has no willingness to really learn and 3. really, really chafes and dislikes being in charge.

And we see it in season three. I know some folks might point to individual episodes where he starts learning... but it never sticks. He never wanted the job, and he hates it. The Decepticons should be a nuisance at best after the movie and being led by someone certifiably insane, but they still remain a big threat to the Autobots. Relations with Earth got more than a bit tense in some episodes like Burden Hardest to Bear. He's gotta be overall miserable.

It's actually one of the things I hate about the Matrix. Optimus Prime didn't need some divinely-anointed disco ball to lead. He was the leader by being awesome at it.

#transformers g1 #optimus prime #rodimus prime #chosen one

288 notes · View notes

weepylucifer · 6 months

Text

Disco Elysium if it was a Hollywood Blockbuster

(inspired by the trailer by @brainrotdotorg)

Harry has to have a glowup arc where he regains his faith in his job and ability to be a good cop. The police isn't criticized here apart from maybe some handwaves at "a few bad apples" rhetoric. In the climactic moment, the phasmid appears and tells him it is his duty and his destiny... to reform the RCM

Because we don't have time for a nuanced take on addiction in this 90-minute movie, the narrative just turns on a dime halfway through to portraying Harry's alcoholism as rugged and badass instead of pathetic, or he suddenly stops drinking when he gets his groove back, with no withdrawal effects shown. The whole thing about speed helping him be better at his job doesn't factor in; Harry drinks and does drugs because he's sad about Dora and there's nothing more to it. All he needed was to buck up and focus on being the best cop in all of Revachol

Klaasje is portrayed as a one-dimensional scheming femme fatale. Her backstory doesn't really come up. She's dumbed down so that Harry can triumph over her, and is also genuinely attracted to him for some reason, "I am Sherlocked" style

Ruby is either cut entirely, or she's genuinely a predatory lesbian and that's it. If the latter, she shoots herself in the head in front of Harry and Kim and they make a MCU-style "Well that happened" quip about it

No political quests! We don't have time for that. Actually, both communism and fascism are only mentioned once in a backstory dump as stuff that happened in a bygone era. If anything, the film ends up really riding for moralism by complete accident

The film makers don't really know what to do with Kim, so he gets reduced to a guy that stands around and delivers snarky one-liners

The Hardie Boys are in one short interrogation scene, not quite enough to make casual moviegoers care when half of them are gunned down

Fan-favorite characters such as Cindy, Cuno or the Speedfreaks can be seen once in the background of a group scene, but have no lines (you KNOW hollywood couldn't handle the Cuno). It's announced on the director's insta as "a little easter egg for eagle-eyed fans"

Joyce has a way more active role, but also her character turns into an utterly flat "milf girlboss" type who gives Harry and Kim direct instructions on what to do, Madame Director style. The movie writers pat themselves on the backs for being more progressive and feminist than the source material. Also she has nothing to do with the mercs, they just sort of... appeared. Don't think about it too hard! It's stressed repeatedly that they're "rogue agents" and it's really nobody's fault that they're there

Evrart is a corrupt mob boss and that's it. He will be played by a skinny actor in a fatsuit. He also doesn't help find Harry's gun, Joyce has someone retrieve it offscreen so she can gravely and meaningfully hand it to him just in time for the mercenary tribunal

The Deserter just kinda being a shitty sad old man would be too anticlimactic for our summer blockbuster, so he is rewritten to be some kind of evil mastermind. Maybe he even directly communicates with Klaasje and tells her what to do, again "I am Sherlocked" style

The tribunal absolutely does end with RCM backup triumphantly arriving to save the day, led by Jean who underwent a mini-arc offscreen about putting his differences with Harry aside because at the end of the day, they're both cops, and goddamn it, cops help each other. He dramatically takes the wig off and chucks it on the ground to signal his character growth, and everything

No homo-sexual underground thought. The Smoker on the Balcony is allowed to show up in one scene, where he flirtily waves at Kim and Harry. Kim nods at him. Disney's first gay character--

There's a moment where Kim talks to Jean, expressing doubt about Harry. Cut to Harry doing something goofy across the room from them. Jean briefly glances at it, shakes his head, turns back to Kim and says gruffly: "He's a loose cannon... but he gets the job done." This is supposed to be a good thing

#posts by me #i have more i could do this all night #remember those blogs that were like ''[x series] if it was written by moffat''?? i guess this is DE if it was written by moffat #disco elysium

380 notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 8 months

Text

honey dove*

Harry has finally made Daisy his sunshine girl, but not everything is as sweet as can be.

70s!harry and virgin!fmc | Content warnings: outdated views on the LGBTQ+ community (including a coming out scene), drugs, a smidge of angst that's quickly resolved, smut! (losing virginity, dirty talk)

Word count: 6.3k

Part one | Part two | Series masterlist

Daisy is ready to lose her virginity.

It just so happens that everything around her went to shit last week, so the odds of it happening anytime soon are pretty much slim to none. And she's frustrated.

She knows she's being selfish, but can you blame her? She's officially going steady with the guy of her dreams, the one she's been drooling over for years, assuming she had zero chance with him since 1973.

She's so happy — she adores Harry and it seems like the feeling's mutual if his constant kisses and compliments are anything to go off of. Two days ago, on Daisy's day off from the record store, he popped by her apartment with a bouquet of sunflowers (her favorites) before he headed into work. She wanted to jump his bones right then and there, but she had to settle for a few dopey, lovesick kisses in an effort not to make him late.

And although it's been a week since Harry asked if she would be his girl (she's still swooning over it), it's also been a week since Willow spoke to either of them.

If Daisy hadn't seen what she did at the party, she would be more confused about why Willow seemed to be hiding out from them. She feels guilty that Harry is all but ripping his hair out every day, assuming she's giving them the cold shoulder because of their newfound relationship, but Daisy refuses to reveal such an impactful secret to him. She knows it's not her place so instead, every time her and Harry hang out, she tries her best to comfort or distract him.

On Monday night, they hit the drive-in movie theater to see A Star Is Born. It's usually the type of place that you go to makeout or having messy car sex, but Harry stayed slumped in the drivers seat the whole night, picking at the bag of popcorn he bought Daisy.

On Tuesday, Daisy made them dinner at her apartment and they watched a few episodes of Charlie's Angels. Harry curled up in her lap while she played with his hair, eventually falling asleep there. The following morning, she woke up to a kiss planted on her cheek and a promise to call her later tonight.

Daisy worked the closing shift on Thursday night so he met her at Sam's to walk her home. She offered for him to stay over, but he seemed eager to go home, giving a short explanation that he hadn't seen Willow in two days and was worried about her. Daisy understood that — how could she not? — but she also couldn't hide the disappointment on her face (hence Friday morning's flowers).

Daisy wakes up curled against Harry's back on Saturday morning. Rays of sunshine are streaming through his windows, basking the room is a warm glow. It's something she's always loved about San Diego after living in a near constant forecast of rain in Seattle for the first 18 years of her life.

She can feel Harry breathing, his back expanding in steady puffs of air. She wraps her form around him even tighter, wishing he could stay as peaceful as he is right now. The second he blinks his eyes open, though, she knows he'll feel Willow's absence in the apartment, and his chest will constrict with anxiety before 9 am.

Sighing, Daisy presses a chaste kiss to the shell of his ear. She contemplates slipping out to get them breakfast from Harry's favorite dinner two streets over — surely that'll be a nice thing to wake up to, and then maybe they can lounge around his room all day, ducking out onto the fire escape to share joints while they trade between disco and rock albums.

She thinks it's a nice way to spend a bright September day, and so she slowly begins to peel her body away from his, careful in ensuring she doesn't wake him up. After Harry's confession about loving when she wears his things, she chooses to keep his Fleetwood Mac shirt on and pulls on the pair of shorts she wore last night. Quietly, she tiptoes out of the bedroom, closing the door gently behind her. As she's sliding her Keds on, her head snaps up when she hears the familiar sound of the front door unlocking. At another point in time, Daisy loved hearing it, knowing that Willow was on the other side. Today, her stomach bubbles in anxiety for the very same reason.

Sure enough, an exhausted looking Willow appears, slamming the door shut once she's kicked her sandals off. She snorts when she sees Daisy standing there still as a statue and brushes past her in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hey," Daisy attempts to greet, following her. "What's up? I haven't seen you in ages."

Willow shrugs her shoulders as she grabs an apple from the fruit bowl, turning to rinse it off in the sink, "Not much. You?"

She tries not to cower at the aggressive tone Willow's using, instead pushing forward. She's determined to get things back to how they used to be — she wasn't willing to lose Willow or Harry, and it hurt her to see them both in pain.

"Nothing really," Daisy replies, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Um, Harry has been really worried about you, Will. We both have... where have you been?"

Willow rolls her eyes and bites the apple, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a bored expression on her face.

"You two are so far up each other's asses it's actually sick."

A pang of pain rushes through Daisy's body, her knees wobbling slightly at Willow's harsh words.

"That's not fair. I'm sorry if you're not happy we're dating, but we really like each other and we don't want things to change—"

"I don't give a hoot if you two are going steady, Daisy. What I care about is my brother thinking he's so much better than me because he's dating someone. He's always talking crap about no one wanting me and it's just not true, alright? Just butt out!"

"Willow, I saw you last weekend." Daisy says, her lips pressed together in a tight line. "With that girl. Reina, right? I saw you guys kissing."

Willow's eyes immediately widen but she backtracks nearly instantly, shaking her head. "You're out of your mind. You were probably too spaced out and thought you saw something you didn't."

"I wasn't. I got up at like 3 am to go get some water and I saw you two leaving your room. I watched her kiss you before she left," Daisy explains as she nervously wrings her hands out behind her, "Willow, I don't care what your sexuality is or who you're dating, I just want you to be happy—"

"You told Harry, then?" She asks with a stoic face.

"What?"

"You told him. He's your boyfriend and you told him and that's why he hasn't talked to me all week."

"Willow— I... no, of course not," Daisy shakes her head, "No, I didn't tell him. Honest. I kept it to myself... I don't think that's the kind of thing he should hear from me. He's been worried sick about you and hasn't been himself. He's desperate to talk to you."

With furrowed eyebrows, Willow chews slowly. "I've been... avoiding you both. I saw you that night. I knew you saw and I just assumed you went straight to him. I figured... it's kinda like you two against me now, y'know?"

Daisy immediately shakes her head, her heart cracking slightly at the thought that she would ever abandon Willow. She's been her rock since they met in the restaurant all those years ago, long before Harry came into the picture.

"It'll never be like that," Daisy says at she steps closer to the brunette, "He has no idea, but he's so worried, Will. He's still sleeping if you wanna talk to him one-on-one..."

Willow presses her lips into her mouth, a look of discomfort taking over her features.

"Or we can go get breakfast if you haven't eaten yet! There's no rush to tell him anything. I won't say anything. I promise."

She smiles gratefully and nods, straightening her posture. "I'll tell him today. Can we just get some flapjacks first?"

Aside from agreeing to be Harry's girl, it's the easiest yes Daisy has ever said.

. . .

When Harry wakes up, it's to the sound of giggling girls in the apartment.

He instantly recognizes the voices — they belong to his girlfriend and his sister, but he hasn't heard them chorused together in weeks. It's an immediate relief, like warm sunshine washing over his body. It means that Willow's home and maybe, just maybe, she's made up with Daisy, making him one step closer to having his little sister back in his life.

Harry fumbles as he climbs out of bed, eager to see Willow after days away from home. He pulls on a pair of pants over his briefs and ambles out of his room, past the kitchen and to the living room. Their conversation pauses and Daisy flashes him a small but hopeful smile.

"Hey," he greets, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his corduroy trousers, "You're home."

Willow nods, smiling tightly. "Yeah. Ran into Daisy this morning when I got back and we talked a little."

"Yeah?" Harry asks, eyes darting between the two girls.

"Yeah," Willow echoes, "Um, I actually... I want to talk to you too, if that's alright."

"For sure, anything you need, Will," Harry replies, a bit over-enthusiastically. Daisy nods in encouragement and stands from the couch, motioning for him to take her spot.

"Do you want me here?" Daisy asks, ever so polite. Harry smiles to himself at the question and Willow nods quickly, biting her lip. She takes a seat on the navy blue shag rug, tugging her legs underneath her body.

Willow takes a deep breath and Harry's quiet, prepared to hear whatever she wants to tell him.

"Before I say this... I just want you to know that I get it if you don't approve or if you don't want to be in my life anymore. It's been really hard for me to come to terms with and I don't think I would be telling you if Daisy hadn't caught on... not because I don't trust you, but it's just... difficult, y'know?"

"Okay," Harry nods, reaching out to gently squeeze her knee, "You know I'll never judge you, Will, you're my baby sister."

"You haven't heard what I have to say yet, though."

"Are you part of the Manson Family?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing you could say that will make me love you any less."

Willow lets out a forced chuckle and sighs, closing her eyes. "Harry, I'm gay."

"Okay."

Her eyes widen, darting between Harry and Daisy for context.

"Okay?" she repeats, a confused look on her face.

"Yeah, okay," he shrugs. "I told you, there's nothing you could tell me that will make me love you any less. I don't care who you're attracted to as long as you're happy, Will. If that's a chick, then that's far out."

"You... you're not mad?"

"Course not," Harry shakes his head. "How could I be?"

"I dunno... I just thought..."

"We love you no matter what." Daisy cuts in with a small smile.

"So you won't care if I jive with girls at the disco?"

Harry chuckles, "As long as you don't complain every time I kiss Daisy."

"I can't promise that."

. . .

Willow's ecstatic that things finally feel normal again so naturally, she suggests the only thing she ever wants to do when she's celebrating something: go to the disco.

It takes a ridiculous amount of time for them to decide on a place to go — Willow wants to hit Inferno, while Harry is pushing Studio 90 because, according to him, the music is better. (Daisy and Willow know that's just code for, "they don't play that disco.")

In between calling Warren and Reina up to invite them out, Studio 90 is vetoed and Inferno is officially decided as the place to go. Harry pretends to be annoyed by this, but in reality, he feels twinges of excitement bubble in his belly, knowing that this is his first night out with Daisy with her officially being his.

And, if he's being honest, the only thing he can think about is finally sinking into her pussy after weeks of grinding and oral.

If they weren't so set on going out, he'd suggest heading back to Daisy's so he can spend an obscene amount of time between her thighs and fuck her into her mattress. But he can see how happy she is, and he doesn't want to ditch Willow, so he stays quiet. He smiles to himself as the girls rush around the apartment getting ready; Daisy borrowing a pink metallic mini dress with bell sleeves and matching knee-high boots. She's swiping glitter over her lids, leaning over the sink in the bathroom when Harry walks in, shutting the door behind him. She jumps when his hands make contact with her hips, giving them a small squeeze.

"You scared me." She pouts, directing her attention towards him in the mirror. He smirks and moves her long hair to the side, pressing a light kiss to the crook of her neck.

"Sorry," he mumbles against her skin, "You just look so precious running around in this cute little outfit. It's killing me not to just take you back to yours."

"What d'ya mean?" Daisy mutters out, occupied with fixing the fallen glitter on her eyelashes.

"I mean," Harry nips at her neck, moving up to the shell of her ear, "I'm dying to fuck you, Daisy. And if we weren't going out tonight, you would already be getting my cock like you've been begging for for the past two weeks."

Daisy's lips part at his words, dropping the eyeshadow brush in the sink. It clatters against the porcelain and she lets out an oh, turning to face him. He presses her flush up against it, searching for any inkling of discomfort. There isn't any.

"You... you wanna do it?"

He nods, leaning down slightly so they're eye level. "Of course I do, sunshine."

"Tonight?"

"Well, we're kind of busy tonight," Harry chuckles at her eagerness, intertwining their fingers together at her side. "But... maybe if you have some self-control... don't get too drunk and avoid any of that powder you like... maybe tonight."

Daisy pouts. "How am I supposed to have fun, then? Everyone around me will be skiing the slopes and totally spaced out."

"Not me," Harry replies easily, "I'll stay sober, too. If this is what you want, that is."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You're not twisting my arm?"

"Why would I do that, sunshine?" Harry asks, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead, "I know we have fun together, but it's very important to me that we're fully present and sober for your first time. I want this to be special for you and I don't want anything to mess it up."

She nods her head, looking up at him with wide eyes. She looks nervous, but he can't blame her for that. Everyone puts so much pressure on losing your virginity. She knows she's been eager to do it for awhile now, but that doesn't erase the anxiety from it.

"Okay," Daisy says, breathing out, "Yeah, okay. We'll do it when we get back to my place tonight?"

"Sure, sunflower. You're allowed to change your mind at any point though, you dig?"

"Anytime?"

"Of course," Harry nods, his heart breaking slightly at her naivety, "Hasn't anyone taught you about consent, lovebug?"

Daisy shakes her head, nibbling on her bottom lip.

"Alright, I'll give you a quick crash course so you're not worrying yourself to death all night. Even if you've already agreed to have sex with someone, you can say 'no' at any point and they are supposed to stop what they're doing. It doesn't matter what you're doing, where, or who it's with — no means no, Daisy. It works both ways, not just for girls, alright? That means that we don't have to do anything tonight, or if we start and you get uncomfortable, you can say no and that's it. You understand, dove?"

"What about... if, like, you're already inside of me? Wouldn't it... hurt you not to cum?"

"No, sweetheart. If you're uncomfortable, that's the number one concern. It doesn't matter. Anyone that tells you that is lying, okay?"

She nods slowly, allowing the words to sink in. "Okay. I think I get it."

Harry smiles gently and reaches up to gently stroke her cheek. "Sweetest girl. I can't wait to have fun with you tonight."

. . .

"More than a woman! More than a woman to meeee!"

Daisy cackles as Willow spins Reina on the dance floor. The Bee Gees are blasting courtesy of the DJ, colorful lights are flashing, and reflective shimmers from the disco ball above strobe across Daisy's sparkly dress. She leans back against Harry, who has a protective hand on her hip. He sways them back and forth to the beat, twisting Daisy's body so they're chest to chest. He's met with a grin, Daisy's eyes crinkled as she ducks her head back in a laugh.

"Y'having a good time, sunflower?"

She nods and lifts her hand to play with the curls at the nape of Harry's neck. "Are you?"

"Always with you." He smiles, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

"You'll let me know when you're ready to cut out?" Daisy asks, leaning forward so he can hear her over the music.

"Sure. Are you in a hurry to leave?"

She rolls her eyes at his smirk, knowing that their planned end to the night has been on both of their minds since they arrived two hours ago. They're having a great time, enjoying the music and dancing with their friends, but Daisy would be lying if she said her panties weren't saturated with arousal already.

"Yeah, I am," Daisy bites, "I'm ready when you are, actually."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"Remember our little talk about consent?" He asks, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "You can change your mind at any time, sunshine."

"I know, H." She says, squeezing their hands together.

"Alright then. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

They share a grin as they bid quick goodbyes to their friends. Willow is too occupied with Reina to say anything, and Warren's likely in the bathroom snorting lines off someone's chest. They're giggly as they find their way out of the club, the cool night air immediately rushing over their skin and ridding them of the sticky sweat they shed. Tonight, there's an energy between them that's unlike anything they've ever felt before, electric and fragile, but so exciting.

They don't talk much on the walk. Harry keeps their hands tightly entwined, periodically squeezing to remind her that he's there with her, and he cares so much. He gives her hand squeezes in increments of three, a secret language of adoration. You are safe.

Finally, they approach Daisy's apartment and Harry reaches into the pocket of his dark denim bell bottoms to pull out her house keys. She smiles graciously and unlocks the door, flicking some lights on as she walks through. Harry follows, as comfortable as ever, locking back up and kicking his sneakers off in the process.

She plops down on the couch with a sigh, suddenly feeling how uncomfortable her heeled boots and sequined dress are. Normally, at this point in the night, she's drunk enough not to notice the ache in her feet from dancing all night. She reaches down to pull at the zipper of her borrowed go-go boots until Harry appears above her, a lopsided smile painted over his lips.

"Want them off?" he asks, lowering to his knees.

"Yes, please," Daisy answers, swallowing harshly at the sight. He nods, thumbing the zipper between his fingers, the material slowly peeling away from her calves. She has faint marks below her knees from where they dug into her legs.

"You look so cute in these," Harry mumbles, pulling one off her foot. He switches to the left leg, following the same process as before.

"Do you like them on me?" She peeps out, looking down at him between her eyelashes.

"Love them on you," he mutters, her legs now free from the confides of the leather. He places his hands on her knees and slowly slides them up to the tops of her thighs. "Think I may ask you to keep them on for me one night. Be my own personal dancer, hm?"

Daisy shutters at the image, nodding as his hands meet the creases of her thighs, just below where her panties end.

"Can I take this off you too, dove?" Harry asks softly, giving her thigh a small squeeze.

"Mhm."

He smiles gently and lifts her bum up slightly, just enough to move the metallic fabric up her body. She holds her arms up as he rids her of her dress, leaving her in her usual undergarments; a cotton white bra and matching underwear.

"I would've gone shopping and tried to find something sexier if I'd known..." she breathes out, feeling self-conscious of her appearance. Harry's quick to shake his head, taking her chin in his palm.

"You look so beautiful," he says, making her face warm. "I don't want you to ever feel like you have to be something you're not."

Daisy nods as her heart constricts at his words. She's never felt so taken care of before, and not just in the physical sense. There isn't a single doubt going through her brain, especially when his large hands take ahold of her sides, pressing small kisses along her neck and down to her chest.

"Just wanna worship you tonight," Harry mumbles against her skin, sliding her bra straps down her shoulders. "Make you feel so good you can't even remember your own fuckin' name."

She whimpers at his words, her hands finding their way into Harry's curls. His lips latch onto her nipple before she can even realize he's made his way to her breasts; sucking, licking, and lightly nipping until she arches her back, leaning into his touch. He switches between each one, leaving them each swollen and hard with his spit.

"What do you need, Dais?" he asks, never ending his assault on her skin. He kisses down her stomach and over the waistband of her underwear, leaning her back against the couch. He knows that she's already so overwhelmed by his touch and it seems like some kind of cruel joke to ask her questions she can't answer.

"Tell me or you get nothing." Harry mutters, cupping her pussy with his warm hand. She gasps at the sudden sensation, her hole clenching around nothing.

"You," Daisy whimpers out, fluttering her eyes to find him between her thighs, his gaze set on the modesty between her legs. "D-don't care— just need you, H, please."

"Do you want my fingers or my tongue?" he presses, squeezing the tender skin beneath his grasp. He can feel her warm arousal underneath the fabric, knowing that she's been steadily dripping since they left his place hours ago.

"I don't know!" Daisy whines, bucking her hips up. Harry clicks his tongue and looks up at her, pouting his lip out as he takes in the desperate expression on her face.

"Poor baby," he murmurs, pressing her cheek to his other palm, "You're just dying for it, yeah? Told you I was gonna fuck your sweet peach forever ago and it's all you've been able to think about. I'm sorry, sunshine."

She sniffs and nods, blinking away the glossy look in her eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about it at the disco. I was trying to focus on having a good time but I just wanted to go home with you all night."

"Okay, okay," Harry nods, hooking his fingers underneath her wet panties and pulling them down her legs, "I have to stretch you out before we do anything else, alright?"

"But—"

"But nothing, lovebug. Told you I was gonna take care of you and it'll hurt too much if I put my cock in this tight little pussy now."

Daisy nods and Harry smiles gently, pecking her lips. Wandering hands part her thighs, allowing him to comfortably fit between them as he slowly pushes his pointer finger inside, curling upwards to stroke the spongy spot that always makes her squirm. She's used to taking two of his fingers at most, but Harry plans to push her to three before he does anything. He knows he's relatively well-endowed and he's nervous about hurting her.

Her drippy hole welcomes his two fingers, wet and warm. He uses his thumb to rub right circles into her clit until she's rutting against him, grinding down onto his hand. He can tell that she's getting close by the way her moans have gotten louder and breathier.

"F-fuck, Harry," she whimpers, her muscles contracting at the orgasm rapidly approaching, "I'm gonna cum."

Harry nods and doubles down on his efforts. He wants at least one orgasm out of her so she's wet and swollen. When he glances down at the way her pussy is swallowing his fingers, he groans, suppressing the urge to lick up the arousal seeping from her hole.

"Cum for me, baby. Not gonna give you my cock until you cum all over my fingers," he instructs, her pussy squeezing him tight. She cums with a gasp, curses tumbling from her lips as he works her through it, until the only sound in the room is squelching fingers curling into her.

"Please," Daisy begs, moving her hands to her tits and squeezing them, "I want you. I'm ready."

Harry shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers from her messy hole. He's painfully hard in his jeans now, the rough fabric constricting his cock.

"Need you to take one more of my fingers, dove. Can you do that? Take three of them?"

"How many was that?" Daisy pants out, stilling in the afterglow of her orgasm.

"Two," he answers, unbuckling his pants for a semblance of relief. "Just one more, and then I'll give you my cock."

Daisy nods and reaches forward, cringing slightly at the wetness between her thighs. She tugs at his shirt and pulls it up and over his head, tossing it to the side.

"Greedy girl," Harry teases, making Daisy roll her eyes. "Gonna start again, alright? You don't have to cum if it's too much."

"Okay," she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip.

"Still comfortable? Still okay with all of this?"

"Mhm. Are you?"

He smiles and nods, pressing a chaste kiss to her sweaty forehead. "Course. It's a dream come true, Daisy."

She's occupied by his closeness when he pushes two of his fingers back in, working her open just a little bit more. It's not uncomfortable by any means, but this is usually the point where Harry stops — if he's keen on giving her multiple orgasms, he'll switch between his fingers and mouth or having her grind on his thigh. He's never fingered her this much before and she can already feel the soreness seeping in. She chooses not to mention it though, knowing that if she says anything he'll want to stop.

When two fingers aren't as much of a squeeze anymore, he removes his hand and glances up to gauge Daisy's reaction. Her eyes are glazed over and fucked out with messy hair and sweaty skin.

"I'm gonna put a third in now," Harry murmurs, massaging the insides of her thighs, "Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"Okay," Daisy breathes, nodding her head and leaning back against the couch cushion, as if she's bracing herself. He encourages her to relax her muscles by continuing his gentle massaging over her legs and up to her pussy, pressing circles into her swollen clit. Slowly, he uses his other hand and curls three fingers into her, watching her intently. It's a tight fit — he knows that without looking at her, and he can barely move with such limited space.

"Relax, baby," he mumbles, continuing to form loops around her sensitive pearl.

"I'm trying," Daisy says softly, her eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"I'm gonna try to work them in a bit but tell me if it's too much."

She nods her head and he begins to move just the tiniest bit, pumping in and out. Gradually, her pussy starts to accommodate the space of his fingers and her body relaxes ever so slightly.

"Does it feel alright, sunshine?" Harry asks as he presses light kisses to the inside of her leg.

"Yeah," Daisy sighs, swallowing harshly, "F-feels full."

"Good full?"

"Mhm," she answers, bucking her hips to meet his movements, "Really good."

"Atta girl," Harry smirks, kissing up to the crease of her thigh, "Knew you could take it."

"Wanna take you, H." Daisy whines, biting down on her bottom lip.

"You feel ready, dovie?"

If Harry's being honest, he's nearly ready to burst in his underwear from this visual alone. Watching Daisy's pussy slowly open and swallow up his fingers was something he could only dream of. The thought of finally sinking his cock into her warm, wet hole has him trembling, constantly reminding himself that he has to take it slow with his sunshine girl.

Harry removes his fingers from her pussy, leaning down to press fluttering licks over her clit. She squeals out from the sensitivity and he chuckles at her reaction.

"Lemme just grab a rubber." He mutters, standing from his knees and digging into the pocket of his jeans, retrieving his wallet. He pulls a condom from the inside pocket and tugs his briefs down, his cock slapping up against his lower stomach. He pumps it a few times, resisting the urge to groan out loud as pre-cum blurts from the tip.

"Lay down for me," Harry instructs gently, rolling the condom on. Daisy nods and leans back against the length of the couch, fixing a pillow to support her neck. Slowly, he climbs over her body, pressing haphazard kisses along her soft skin. "Remember what I taught you about consent?"

"I know, honey," Daisy giggles. The pet name makes his heart jump, smirking as he finally makes his journey up to her lips, kissing them firmly.

With Daisy's legs parted and bent, Harry wiggles between them, steadily stroking himself.

"You're so wet," he mutters, trailing a fingertip down her center and collecting some of her wetness. He rubs it onto his condom-covered cock, groaning at the feel of lubricated passes.

"Yeah, 'cos I want you," Daisy grumbles half heartedly, making Harry chuckle.

"Impatient, greedy girl," he murmurs, nudging his knees up so they're flesh against the backs of her thighs, "Gonna start pushing in, baby."

She rolls her lips into her mouth and nods. Double-checking to ensure she's ready, Harry grabs one of her hands and intertwines their fingers together, giving it a small squeeze. Slowly, he guides his tip to her entrance, breathing out a heavy sigh at the warmth radiating her pussy. He pushes in ever so lightly, popping through her walls, eliciting a gasp from Daisy.

"Y'alright?" He asks, stilling his hips.

"Feels different than your fingers." She immediately admits and he nods understandingly.

"I know. That was just the tip. Do you need to stop?"

Daisy shakes her head, "No. Keep going, I can do it."

He inches himself forward, biting his lip harshly at her tightness. It's taking everything in him to maintain his slow pace, knowing he needs to be gentle with Daisy, but god, she was just so wet and warm.

Harry eventually gets about halfway through when Daisy simply nods, her eyes watery.

"It hurts but I can do it," she says, "Just go all the way, please."

"Don't rush it, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you. Just keep breathing and try to relax your muscles as best you can."

It's difficult for Daisy to follow his advice when her body is trying to reject the intrusion. She swears it's been at least 30 minutes of him pushing forward inch by inch, though she knows it's realistically probably only been around 10. Finally, she does start to get accustomed to the feeling, her tense body beginning to relax enough for him to continue pushing.

"This is the last bit," Harry murmurs, a wave of relief coming over Daisy. It's... weird and uncomfortable, a dull pain throbbing as her muscles stretch to accommodate Harry's endowment. She knows it has to get better than this, though — otherwise, why were people so obsessed with having sex?

With his balls flush against her bum, Harry groans, his cock pulsing inside of her. "You feel... s-so fuckin' good, Dais," he nearly slurs out, making her blush. She can't say the exact same about him right now, but she's glad that he's at least receiving pleasure.

"Let me know when it's okay to move?"

Daisy nods and Harry notices the tense tick in her jaw. He swallows and trails his fingertips along her cheek, leaning forward to smear their lips together. It's messy but that's mainly his own fault — he's trying his best to distract Daisy from the discomfort, but it's a selfish act, too, so he doesn't accidentally buck up into her when she's not ready.

With their foreheads pressed against each other and quiet pants filling the air, Harry brings two of his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, and lowers them down to her clit. She moans softly at the sensation of tight circles pressed into the skin.

"T-that's good," she stutters, nodding her head, "Y'can move, just keep playing with me like that."

Harry mentally thanks his lucky stars and nods, continuing his assault on her clit as he slowly begins to move his hips. She's squeezing him so tightly and she's not even aware of how good she feels, which only makes him even more turned on. His sweet dove laying underneath him, eyes hazy as she takes his cock for the first time.

He keeps his strokes shallow, not yet wanting to overwhelm her with the pressure of hitting her g-spot. It's taking every inch of self-control he has to keep it slow, but it's worth it for her.

"You look so sweet like this," he mumbles out, spit-swollen lips parted as he watches her, "Just laying here, letting me fuck you and play with your pretty little clit. Is this what you wanted, sunshine? My cock inside of you?"

Daisy nods, biting down on her lip as a moan escapes her throat. "Yes," she whimpers with fluttering eyes. "Feels... so full and good. Love being filled with you."

She isn't lying — she knows girls her age sometimes lay there during sex and zone out because it isn't any good, but Harry worked her up and stretched her out. With his cock steadily pumping inside of her and his fingers looping around her swollen clit, she feels the familiar tightening in her core.

"Can I go a little deeper, baby?"

"Uh-huh— please, deeper, H."

Daisy's not quite sure what that entails until Harry scooches up, grinding their hips together. She gasps when she feels it — he always strokes at that spot all the way at the back of her walls when he's fingering her, but to feel his cock pressing against it in steady pumps is near enough to make her finish on the spot.

Her jaw drops open and they lock eyes; Daisy unable to verbalize how good it feels and Harry simply in awe of how beautiful and blissed out she looks.

"There you go," he encourages, tapping his fingers against her pearly clit, "Gonna cum on my cock? Been dreaming of it, I need to feel you squeeze me."

"S-shit— 'm gonna cum, Harry, please—"

"Not gonna stop, dovie, just give me what I want, yeah? Cum for me, honey."

It hits her like a train, unlike any orgasm Harry's ever given her before. She's a moaning mess as she squirms beneath his body, his fingers and hips never stopping as she clenches down on his cock, her walls contracting in the most delicious way.

"Fuck, there's my girl," Harry groans, feeling her arousal drip from her hole and create a mess between their thighs. "So pretty, sunshine."

As soon as Daisy cums, Harry gives himself permission to do the same. Her full body orgasm is the sexiest sight and it's not long before his hips, flush against her bum, still inside of her, filling up the condom with ropes of warm cum. She's still whimpering at the intensity of her own peak but manages to take in the sight of Harry in complete pleasure with scrunched up eyes and curses falling from his swollen lips.

A few moments later, when they've both come down, Harry swallows and looks down at the girl below him.

"Was that alright?"

"It was amazing," she smiles, her soft features offering an immediate sense of relief, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I feel honored that you let me be your first."

Daisy's stomach flips as he lets out a shallow breath. "Gonna pull out now, 'kay? Might feel a little weird."

It's not the most uncomfortable feeling she's felt tonight, but even if it was, she doesn't think she'd care. She's on cloud nine from finally losing her virginity, but not to just anyone — to Harry, the guy that she still can't believe is her actual boyfriend.

"What are you smiling at?" Harry asks with a smirk as he walks back into the living room after disposing the condom. He pulls his briefs on and leans over Daisy's form, pressing a few kisses to her lips.

"Just happy, honey."

"Yeah?" He chuckles, his body lighting up at glowing grin on her face.

"Mhm."

"Me too. I'm so happy."

#writing #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #fanfic #harry #harry styles smut #70s!harry #harrys house #love on tour

296 notes · View notes

divine-donna · 11 months

Text

pink ensembles

pairing: miguel o’hara x gender neutral! reader

word count: 994 words

ao3 link: 💗💗💗

summary: the spider society is holding a very special barbie disco party!! miguel doesn’t have an appropriate outfit. thankfully, you have the perfect solution for your partner. and you’re awesome at dressing people!

for vibes: “dance the night” by dua lipa

notes: there are no detailed descriptions about the ensemble reader is wearing. it’s just something that’s all pink! anyways who’s excited for the barbie movie? i’m seeing it over oppenheimer.

“Wait, you’re not coming?”

“Well I didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t dress up.”

“That’s as bad as saying you’re not coming! If you’re not going to dress up, why come at all!”

“(Y/N), that’s literally not what I meant.” The man was trying to enjoy his lunch in peace. “If I don’t come, it looks pretty bad. Especially as the person who founded the Spider Society.”

“And I just believe you should look the part.”

Miguel sets his arepa down. “I don’t think you get it. I’m not dressing up because my wardrobe...” He sighs. “You’ve literally been in my wardrobe. You steal my clothes all the time.”

It finally hit you. “Oh. I see. It’s because you lack color in your wardrobe. That’s not a problem!”

“What...What do you mean? I literally don’t have the clothes for it.”

“And I do! I think I have the perfect outfit too. Come on! We’re going back to my place!”

Miguel rushed to finish his lunch and even took the last remaining arepa with him. He’d rather die than let a good arepa go to waste (also because wasting food was something he was taught not to do). The two of you made it back to your place where you revealed your closet. It was definitely a closet from a Barbie dreamhouse playset. Your closet was even color coded and was very satisfying to look at. There were even shades of colors he didn’t think existed. You were going through your pink section, putting different shades of pink against his arm and even looking at the veins of his hand. “Perfect! The ensemble I have in mind is the right pink!” You were giddy about this and pulled out the set.

He wasn’t phased by the outfit but rather that you seemed to have it in his size. “How long have you had this?” He asks.

“For a while. I bought it in hopes of us doing matching outfits one day.”

“How did you get my size?”

“Lyla helped.”

He’s not the slightest bit annoyed. Instead, a small smile crosses his face and he walks over to you, giving you a gentle kiss on your lips. You kiss back and take in his presence. It was always nice to just be with him. “I’ll put this on.”

When Miguel comes out, you almost fell over. Because your partner was just...hot. So, so, so, so hot. The sleeveless top allowed you to see every single fiber of muscle as he moved his arms. His pecs were popping out from the neckline. The flared pants hugged his waist nicely, rising quite high, and framing his butt better than his Spider-suit. The white cowboy hat really topped everything off. But despite the beauty that was your partner in this outfit, you still felt he was missing something. Maybe something around his neck? That would be quite hot. “I look like a vaquero. Except without the equipment.” He says.

“I mean, it is Western inspired. And it was vaqueros that were the base for the Western cowboy.”

“We definitely did it better.” He takes a spin, watching the way the bottom of his pants flared out.

“You have white boots?”

“They’re the most colorful thing in my closet.”

“Great! They’ll go with the outfit. Now, you’re missing something.”

“Am I? I think it looks great.”

“You just need one more bit of pizzazz!” You rub your chin for a bit. “Lyla!”

“Here!” The AI appears besides Miguel’s shoulder. “I knew he would look good.”

“Lyla, do you think you can find the star patterned pink bandana?”

“Oh.” She winces. “It’s not here on this Earth. But it is available in these Earths and at these storefronts, from what I can gather.” Lyla expands the map of the multiverse.

“Well, we can start there. I’ll be back soon Miguel.”

Miguel was...very surprised to see you come back with a ton of scratches and bruises. But you were beaming brightly and judging by the bag in your hand, you had succeeded in your mission. He should’ve figured that you were willing to fight tooth and nail for the last fashion accessory for your partner. After all, what was better than getting to dress him up? “Geez! What happened (Y/N)!” Lyla cleans her glasses to make sure it wasn’t dirt blocking her vision.

“I fought people for it. Turns out everywhere in the multiverse is looking for this? It’s the biggest multiversal fashion trend.” You pull the box out and toss the bag, before removing the top of the box. “It’s like fresh!” You approach your partner with the bandana and he lets you tie it around his neck. When you step back, you feel your eyes water. “It’s perfect!”

“Awww. Should let (Y/N) dress you up more. They know what they’re doing.” Lyla looks at her watch. “Got to go. I’ll catch you two at the party!” The AI disappears.

“Okay now I have to get ready!”

“Take your time cariño.” His voice just purred softly. And you needed to prevent yourself from just melting at the way he spoke to you.

When you came out, your scratches and bruises were gone (mostly). And you had dressed up in your cutest pink ensemble. You looked like a Barbie doll! And honestly, Miguel was feeling like he was just a Ken. He looked nowhere near as good. “I like what you did beneath your eyes.” You had put small stones to complete your makeup look.

“Thank you! I’m happy you like it.”

“I always like what you do.”

“You’re going to make me collapse from how cheesy you are.”

“I’ll just catch you.” Miguel pulls you close to him and presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. He’s careful not to ruin the makeup.

“Shall we get going?”

“I don’t know. How about we just stay here for a little longer? No one arrives to a party on time anyways.”

#spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spiderverse #fluff #spider-man 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

432 notes · View notes

decadentfantasy · 6 months

Note

Could you do MK11 Fujin, MK1 Earthrealmers (plus Syzoth and Lord Liu Kang) with a DJ/music producer reader?

𝑴𝑲1 𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑨 𝑫𝑱/𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: Syzoth, Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Raiden, Kung Lao

𝑻𝑾: brief mentions of alcohol

𝑨/𝑵: i'm sorry i took so long to answer, i've been so busy with school and it's completely drained me </3 i promise i'll be active again very soon

❥︎ 𝑺𝒀𝒁𝑶𝑻𝑯

❥︎ Being from Outworld, Syzoth is obviously unfamiliar with your line of work. But that doesn't mean he doesn't like it, quite the contrary in fact: as I've mentioned before dance in Outworld is considered a sacred art, and such appreciatetion is extended in regards of music as well. At every important celebration there are musicians and singers, in charge of entertaining the guests all evening. In Syzoth's eyes, what you do is very similar if not the same thing exactly, you just use different means.

❥︎ If you have one of those neon DJ consoles, Syzoth is going to be enamored by it. Reptiles have four color receptors in their eyes, one more than humans, so what he sees is far more vivid than what you see.

❥︎ Accessing the club you work in isn't a problem for him, after all he can turn invisible and walk right past the bouncers. He watches you from above, clinging to the ceiling, and sees the bustling sea of people surrounding the small stage you play on, colorful lights hitting the shimmering glitter on your face. It's the most beautiful and happy he ever saw you.

❥︎ 𝑳𝑰𝑼 𝑲𝑨𝑵𝑮

❥︎ I think it's important to mention Liu Kang lived in the '90s (his Friendship in MK11 is literally him dancing under a disco ball), he's a big fan of disco and pop music. And, despite that not exactly being your genre, he grows fond of it very quickly. After all it's your passion, it's only fair he interests himself in it at least a little.

❥︎ He likes to sit in on your recordings, especially if there are lyrics. Despite appreciating your music, he prefers the sound of your voice: he finds it sweet, caressing his ears softly. He could listen to you singing for days on end.

❥︎ Over the eons he's become increasingly good at sneaking around unnoticed, so he often goes to see you when he's not particularly busy and it's one of your quieter evenings (as quiet as a DJ can be). He doesn't want to disturb you so he just stands back, watching you from afar as you enjoy making people dance under the bright lights.

❥︎ 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑪𝑨𝑮𝑬

❥︎ As a person who works in cinematic productions, Johnny deals with music producers all the time, so it's suffice to say he's not easily impressed. But, from the first time he heard you, he was hooked to you and your music. He doesn't know what it is, it could be the basses or the echoey vibe it has, but he loves the atmosphere it sets.

❥︎ He hired you on the stop after he saw you perform for the first performance, in his mind there's no other producer that can compete with your work. He has you compose and play the soundtrack for all of his movies, and some of your songs become hits thanks to him! Not to mention he brings you to a lot of his interviews and other occasions, increasing your popularity tremendously.

❥︎ When you're not busy composing, you still perform at one of the most exclusive nightclubs in Hollywood. And you better believe Johnny will attend every time he can! If he has to black out drunk, he'll do it with your music on, slowly growing to become white noise as he passes out.

❥︎ 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑨𝑯𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑰

❥︎ He goes to nightclubs regularly, more out of habit than anything. He generally doesn't pay attention to the music that plays, huddled away in his VIP, but it's different when you play. He sees it in the way you move, the way you sing along to your own music: you pour so much passion into your job, he finds it contagious.

❥︎ Kenshi likes your more upbeat music, the fast-paced, bass-boosted kind. He's always been a fan of the more energetic genres, specifically synth-pop. He teaches you some Japanese words and phrases to use as lyrics, after a bit of coaxing he even relents and lets you record him for some of your pieces (much similarly to Lady Gaga's bodyguard in "Government Hooker").

❥︎ He doesn't tell you, but when you perform he takes it upon himself to look out for you. He knows how easily these events can escalate into violence, especially if there's alcohol available. He stands just behind you, watching over you from the shadows. And if nothing happens it's even better: he gets to just bask in the lovely atmosphere you create.

❥︎ 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵

❥︎ Raiden isn't that big on clubs and nightlife in general, he's a very calm person who enjoys calm places. Still, the only time Kung Lao manages to convince him he gets to see you perform and instantly feels more comfortable in what he otherwise would find to be a suffocating atmosphere.

❥︎ He asks you to play privately for him often, in the comfort of your bedroom or living room. Truthfully, he enjoys looking at you as you play more than listening to the music itself: you look so relaxed even as your hands move so quickly over your console, a sequence that seems to be engraved in your memory from how effortlessly and fluidly you carry it out.

❥︎ While he doesn't attend many of your performances, he uses the lo-fi compilation you composed for him to do basically everything when you're not around, namely cook and meditate. He makes him feel like you're right there at all times, it brings him great comfort.

❥︎ 𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑮 𝑳𝑨𝑶

❥︎ While he can't exactly be described as a party animal, Kung Lao is still much more socially active than Raiden. Before your relationship developed to this point he was your biggest fan, doing his best to attend each and every one of your performances. He even got his t-shirt signed once, and it's the one he insists you wear when you sleep over at his place. Call him cheesy, but for him that was the fateful moment your lives crossed.

❥︎ If you were up to teach him, he'd love to learn how to play your console. It looks so complicated and cool with all its buttons, switches and levers, he has so much fun messing with them! Though he gets the worst jumpscares sometimes, making you laugh until your belly hurts. He almost doesn't mind.

❥︎ Even after you start dating he's still your biggest fan, maybe even more so than before. He's the type of boyfriend to brag about you to all of his friends, he's just so proud of you he can't keep it to himself! He especially enjoys helping you with your make-up before you go up on stage, it's an excuse to smother your face in kisses.

172 notes · View notes

earthstellar · 7 months

Text

Earth Music on the Lost Light: Human Music That Cybertronians Like

we know for a fact that the Lost Light has access to human media, primarily movies, TV shows, and music-- and we know they generally seem to fucking love most of it, or at least find it interesting

but what would everyone's tastes be, in regards to Earth music?

time to talk about music for a long time!!! strap in, enjoy some tunes

we already know Cyclonus has impeccable taste and enjoys some of the best jams the 80s had to offer.

I can't help but imagine Rodimus being given a media archive of Earth tunes to approve for the Earth Dance would only result in chaos

(it's not like he would say no to anything, he absolutely blanket signed it all, it's just an obligatory thing-- or Ultra Magnus tells him it is, solely to keep him away from Important Captain Things that he would rather handle himself or hand off to Megatron, lmao. the shit that really needs to get done)

and this is how Rodimus discovers the somewhat questionable yet amazing genre of "mid-90s underground techno rave mix tapes"

(somewhat related, I still think Testarossa might as well be Rodimus' theme song, although it's not a 90s track and has more of an 80s synth vibe)

Rodimus would love that "computers are the future, fuck yeah let's make Digital Cool Future Music" mid-90s shit, there is no way he would not. it has the exact energy level that appeals to him and is also cheesy and weird and chaotic. and has like 500 different sub-genres, so his selection is endless, lmao.

he would probably find it cute that this is what humans imagined to be the peak of "digital sound" at the time. like lmao this was the best humans could do when asked to create music that sounds like it was made by robots or other mechanical space future cyber lifeforms--high concept!!! he would probably find it interesting and endearing. this is what organics think non-organic music is like!!

anyone acting as DJ at Swerve's on any given night would be so, so mad that Rodimus keeps requesting shit like "DJ MASSIMO ITALO DISCO BEST RAVE TUNES LIVE FROM LONDON 1995" or "DJ ARMPIT SLUDGE FEST HOUSE-RAVE-DRUMS N BASS SET 1996" for them to play, lmao

not individual tracks. the whole album. entire mix tapes of random, somewhat questionable mid-90s techno house rave bullshit.

that having been said, that good ass early 90s trance techno might send him into a spiral depending on his mood at the time, lmao (it's been known to happen)

but at the same time I can imagine him sharing tracks like Solar Quest - Space Pirates with Drift and they'd both just sit there and jam out, but quietly, thinking about shit while sitting in a port window next to each other (this was peak sleepover party techno, Back in My Day-- many deep conversations were had while listening to stuff like this, lol)

Drift would probably find some of Rodmus' recommended stuff to be pretty good for meditation-- although once he finds out about the human drug culture involved and certain concepts of experimental consciousness etc. that surrounded techno/rave and other related genres, it might cause him to pull back a little bit

(until he finds out about kandi culture, in which case, Drift would love the idea of hand-made unique bracelets and sentimental trinkets being made and exchanged at warehouse shows purely out of Good Vibes and Love for Fellow Beings and it turns out actually he fucking loves this shit, a chill vibes based "expand your mind" kind of music subculture appeals to his Spectralist sensibilities and he likes sharing tunes with Rodimus in return)

Drift picking tracks on his own would likely lead him down more of a classic rock road, but more of the chill side of things, more of the folksy type of classic rock -- I can see Drift really enjoying Spirit in the Sky - Norman Greenbaum or California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas. or like, Incense and Peppermints - Strawberry Alarm Clock.

I mean, Drift might even go Full Earth Hippie and end up liking Green Tambourine - Lemon Pipers, lmao. in fact I am fairly certain of this.

I can see Drift loving Aquarius/Let The Sunshine In - The 5th Dimension. the whole vibe would probably appeal to him.

he'd quite possibly also like I Need a Dollar - Aloe Blacc, but it hits him in a place that still hurts to think about. so it's in rare rotation.

meanwhile Ratchet would probably be fine with classic rock too, like the good Dad Rock shit, just a lot of tracks from the 70s/80s -- a couple tracks he and Drift could probably agree on would likely lean more into the experimental/psychedelic rock side of things, like White Room - Cream or something like Wheel in the Sky - Journey

Rodimus tries to troll Ratchet by recommending Old Time Rock n Roll - Bob Seger, but joke's on him because it turns out Ratchet loves it, lmao

Swerve would go all out on classic bar jams for the evening playlist. Chill, good shit like Do It Again - Steely Dan.

Megatron would love Sinnerman - Nina Simone; He'd send it to Drift in a command crew level secured data packet, and they would both feel the hell out of this song. They don't need to talk about why. They never mention it to each other.

Megs would also probably love These Old Bones by Dolly Parton (mostly due to the lyrics, rather than the upbeat tune, but he would find it relatively relaxing), as well as 9 to 5 (of course), and similar music. Country from back in the day when country music was more about the struggle of poverty and the working life of rural people. Country music from back when songs told all the untold stories. He can respect that.

He'd listen to You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive by Patty Loveless and it would get him right in the fucking spark. Megatron is the Cybertronian equivalent of an Appalachian miner, god dammit. He understands.

Megatron would also like Johnny Cash; He would overthink Ghost Riders in the Sky and it would depress him, partly because it reminds him of Seekers... sigh.

I think he'd also like Cold War - Janelle Monae. He'd be way into good lyrics; What's being said in a song matters most to him. "This is a cold war, you better know what you're fighting for..." Indeed.

anyway I like thinking about what jams Cybertronians might like from their available selection of Earth tunes

#long post #transformers #maccadam #maccadams #idw drift #idw 1 #idw transformers #mtmte #lost light #idw ratchet #idw rodimus #idw swerve #idw megatron

315 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby) CH2.

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [6.8K] 18+ the two night stand au no one asked for, or, the fic where you meet steve on a dating app and then a snowstorm ensures you can’t sneak out the next morning.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

“Hey, wanna get high?”

It was an easy question to say yes to, to be able to do something other than sit around and watch the snow fall, something to break the tension, ease the silence that was still a little uncomfortable. It was even easier when Steve looked at you like that, the same way he had the night before when you first answered the call from him, all messy hair and flushed cheeks, soft eyes and a smile that told you that you made him as nervous as he made you.

So you nodded and felt a little giddy when he sparked up a joint, trying not to think about how it had been slotted between his lips when you placed it between yours. Besides, his mouth had been in more intimate places the night before… but you weren’t supposed to talk about that.

So you shared the smoke until the joint burned down to the end, a stubbed out roach on a makeshift ashtray and when the sky outside dulled to an inky violet, you found yourself on Steve's living room floor. The boy had made quick work of gathering up every blanket and sheet he could find, the coffee table moved in favour of a fort that stood proud in the middle of the room. The weed had hit hard when he turned off the lights, letting the old nineties style disco ball illuminate the space instead. It twisted slowly, pink and purple and peach and green, each coloured sphere dancing off the white sheets and walls, making Steve’s skin turn shades of cotton candy and apricot.

You’d found a frozen pizza in the bottom of his freezer, grimaced and brushed off most of the ice before shoving it in the oven as Steve threw all the snacks he could find into the fort, chips and cookies and some sour patch kids lost amongst the pillows. You ate slices of pepperoni in agreeable silence, The Goonies playing faintly in the background and when dinner was done and the high started to settle, you found yourself laying closer to the boy, shoulder to shoulder on the floor.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked, looking at you from the side of his eyes, curious and careful. “If you promise not to yell at me.”

“I don’t make promises with boys,” you said airily, grinning when Steve snorted. “But I won’t resort to violence, if that makes you feel better.”

“Barely,” he shot back but he rolled onto his stomach anyway, bit the head off of a red sour patch and kept his gaze on you. “But I’ll risk it. Why were you looking for a hookup? Last night. Like, why were you on that stupid site.”

“Why were you?”

Steve grinned. “I asked you first.”

Did you tell him? Did you tell him the truth? Would you sound pathetic, would you sound sad? Would you tell this boy, this stranger, that you’d once been happy and with your own place, another boy to share it with, that white picket fence kinda dream. Would you tell him you had a man, who wore a suit and tie to work, who promised you a ring and a baby and anything else you wanted, would you tell him that you found him with another girl when you came home too early one day, that he was less than sorry and told you that he just didn’t feel the same, that he was going to confess to you eventually.

How could you tell him that? How could you tell that story without crying?

So you hoped your eyes didn’t turn glassy as you kept Steve’s gaze and shrugged, fingers playing nervously with the tassels on the end of a blanket. “What’s that thing they say? ‘You gotta get back on the horse’ or something?” You swallowed, throat too tight. “I had to get back on the horse.”

Steve stared, eyes widening slightly in realisation and he nodded, slow, thoughtful. Silence crept in, the movie long over and the credits rolling silently, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. And then Steve knocked a hand against yours and said, “for what it’s worth, the guy sounds like an idiot. His loss, y’know?”

You grinned despite your confusion, nose scrunched and you stole a piece of candy from the bowl the boy had monopolised. “You don’t even know what he did.”

Steve hummed and shook his head, not wanting to hear your counter argument. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve got this look in your eye and— and, well, I can just tell, okay? He’s probably the world's biggest douche and he doesn’t deserve you.”

You were speechless, lips parted, tongue fizzing with leftover sugar and still staring at Steve. This guy you met online, a stranger. Except not really.

“You didn’t deserve that.” Steve finished, he was staring at the popcorn, cheeks a little pink. “Whatever it was… that he did. You didn’t.”

Your socked foot met his, toes pushed to his, the closest you’d been since the night before. He stared at where you touched him, throat bobbing and you sniffed before whispering a small, ‘thanks.’

Steve shrugged again, embarrassed and brushing it off but his words clung to you in a way that was more important than you realised. When you’d told your mom about your ex, she’d been sympathetic but she seemed more concerned about you moving back in with a friend, having a roommate instead of a mortgage and still no ring on your finger.

‘Maybe you weren’t giving him what he needed, hon,” she’d tried to justify. ‘You’re always so busy at work, you know. Men need cared for, they like to come home and have their dinner on the table and—’

You’d hung up the call without listening to it anymore.

“Even though I’m a raging dragon?” You asked Steve, your knowing smile lightening the mood.

You laughed when the boy’s cheeks burned, the tips of his ears just as red and he sat up in defence, hands held out placatingly. “Hey, c’mon now. You weren’t supposed to hear that—”

“So that makes it okay?” You squealed, laughing whilst trying to act offended. You batted at Steve’s hands when he tried to steal back the sour patch kids. “No, they’re mine now. Penance for your awful honesty.”

“—if you let me talk,” Steve grumbled but he was smiling too and god, it was a pretty sight. “You’ll know that I didn’t mean it. Well I did, a little. You were scary.”

You snorted.

“But hot,” Steve added on, looking at you from under his lashes, gaze lowered and he took a second to see how you’d take such a compliment. You raised your brows, hiding a smile with twisted lips. “Y’know, in that ‘she’s yelling but I’m turned on’ kinda way?”

You laughed, a bright burst of sound that made Steve grin and you shook your head, “god, boy’s are easy, huh?”

“We’re mere creatures, honestly,” Steve smiled and he didn’t seem to care about his admittance. Or the fact you’d both promised not to talk about the fact you had slept with each other, ‘cause then he said: “M’sorry I couldn’t you know, be a… good horse to get back onto.”

Were you burning? You felt like you were burning. You felt like you were on fire. You squirmed, chugging down the rest of your sofa before answering. “Steve, no, don’t, it wasn’t— I was being dramatic— and a bitch—”

“Did you come?”

You choked, face flushed and you wanted to placate him, ‘cause he’d fed you all day and you were in a pair of his too big socks ‘cause you’d complained about having cold feet but god, you couldn’t lie.

“Jesus, blunt much?” You tried to stall but Steve narrowed his eyes at you.

“Like you were aiming for soft and sweet this morning? C’mon, tell me the truth. Was I that bad? I can handle it.”

You chewed at your bottom lip, thinking carefully and you couldn’t help the breath of laughter that left you. “You can’t handle it,” you shrugged. “It’s okay though, no boy could. Your egos are too precious.”

“That’s not true,” Steve replied, and he nudged at your side, his hand grazing over the sort of your hip and you wanted to squirm. “Look at it this way, once the weather stops being so fucking dramatic, you’re gone, right?”

“Like the wind,” you nodded sagely.

“So the chance of us seeing each other again, is like what, slim to none?”

“A zero,” you confirmed.

Steve smiled and it was nice, pretty, a slow stretch that made him look like he was up to know good and it reminded you of the night before, after you’d shed your coat and clinked your beer against his, right before he’d kissed you against the kitchen counter.

“So we’ve been given a rare opportunity here, sweetheart,” he sat up, gesturing between the two of you, his candy forgotten about. “Let’s get brutal. You tell me what I need to do to improve, you know, sexually, and I’ll hand out some pointers too.”

“Oh, I need pointers?” You laughed, humourless, eyebrows raised as you say up too, your head brushing the peak of the fort. Mirth glittered in the boy’s eyes and he shrugged, too causal.

“You think you’re some sort of sex god?” Steve grinned and you burned, embarrassed at his accusation.

“What? No! At least you got off!”

Steve sprang to his knees, victorious, a finger pointed accusingly at you. “Ha! See! You didn’t come, you totally faked it. You lying… liar.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mature.”

“Listen,” he took your hand, hesitant at first, but once you didn’t pull away, he tugged you a little closer, fingers tangling. “Hear me out. Don’t you wanna know? Like, a full Amazon style review of your sexual prowess. Cons, star rating, would I recommend you to a friend?”

You scoffed, unable to hold in your laughter, but you used your free hand to bat at his shoulder anyway. “You’re a pig,” you told him.

“I know, you told me already,” Steve reminded you and he grinned, all boyish and teasing. Steve tan his thumb over your knuckles, fingertips scratching nicely against your palm. He was flirting. He was fucking flirting. “C’mon, tell me how to find some truffles.”

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of him as he sat on his sofa, gaze focused on you as you paced in front of the TV. The snow was still falling outside, mounds of it climbing up the window as it settled on the sill, the whole world outside turning white.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together. “This would be so much easier if I had, like, a PowerPoint.”

Steve stared at you, deadpan. “You want ten minutes with my laptop?”

He was joking, but you hesitated. He said your name through a laugh, shaking his head. “No. You do not need a PowerPoint presentation, c’mon, lay it on me.”

You took a deep breath and started.

“Right. So I didn’t actually have an orgasm last night and I know that hurts your male ego, but trust me, no one is more disappointed than me, okay?” You paused as Steve opened his mouth to retort but you interrupted with a sharp, “ah! Questions and comments at the end, please.”

Steve sunk back into the couch.

“And it’s not because you were bad, alright? You were good! Like really good and it was pretty hot and honestly, I was close, like several times.” You stopped pacing to face him, head tilted to the side. “You remember what I said? What I might have told you that could have possibly helped you know that I was close?”

Steve sucked his teeth, bashful. “You might have said, ‘I’m close.’”

“Right! I did, didn’t I? And then you completely changed up what you were doing even though I very specifically said ‘don’t stop,’ so please, Steven, talk me through your thought process there.”

Steve gestured wildly to the air, at a loss. He shrugged, “ I dunno, I thought if I like, sped it up, or you know, did that little twisty thing with my fingers… kinda like a finishing move or something. WWE style, Tony Hawk Pro Skater, Mortal Kombat? You know— never mind. And don’t call me Steven, Jesus.”

“If a girl tells you she’s close, it’s because of what you’re currently doing. Like, exactly that,” you told him softly. “Don’t change it up, got it?”

Steve blinked as you stared at him, expression intense and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah. Yes ma’am.”

“Oh! And if a girl is trying to help herself out with some hand action?” You gestured vaguely at your crotch, cheeks on fire. “It’s not a personal attack, okay? Sex is a… sex is a team effort, yeah? We’re simply trying to make everyone feel good.”

Steve nodded again, lips pursed. “Noted. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” you said primly, ignoring the way Steve smirked. “I don’t know which freshman dweeb managed to convince every male that spelling the alphabet with their tongue is a good idea, but it’s not, okay? It kinda makes me feel like you’re learning braille, and that’s not sexy. Apart from that, sex with you is perfectly nice.”

“You done?” Steve asked again but he was still smiling, his hands tapping at the back of the couch.

You nodded, gaze lowered ‘cause you weren’t sure how you managed to say such things to a boy you barely knew but fuck, if it didn’t feel good.

“Good, my turn. Take a seat, sweetheart, and get out your notepad.”

You scowled, shoulder brushing Steve’s as you swapped places, throwing yourself down into the sofa. He grinned as he took centre stage, immediately launching into a speech that honestly wasn’t as scathing as you were scared it was going to be.

“Lights,” he announced. “What is it with girls and wanting to do it with the lights off? I’ve already seen you, I think you’re hot, I wanna see more.” Steve’s eyes lit up in excitement, enthusiasm evident. “Now I know, you had some real cute underwear under those jeans, okay? Something lacy, real sexy, I’m sure of it, but I didn’t get to see them!”

You laughed at his crestfallen expression, his pout.

“And that whole thing,” the boy gestured to his clothes. “You switched off the light and stripped yourself like Houdini, zero appreciation for the art.”

“The art?” You snorted, eyes on Steve’s and suddenly the air shifted. You watched him shrug and swallow hard, throat bobbing and he didn’t bother hiding the way his gaze travelled down your body and back up again. “What art?”

“Y’know,” he shuffled a little nervously, cheeks pink again. He gestured towards the sofa. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at how you sounded so shocked. “C’mon, don’t act like you don’t know. You’re hot, sweetheart. Real pretty. Guys are nothin’ but visual creatures, right? You gotta give us something to work with. A little somethin’ like this—” Steve shimmied his hips, miming pulling his sweats down all slow, ass popped and knees bent. “— a little ass action, yeah?”

He grinned when you laughed loudly, eyes shining and your hand covering your mouth but it only encouraged him. “Right? You get it. A little over the shoulder look, bat those eyes. Did you drop something? Oh, yeah you did,” he smirked, smug and pleased with himself. “It was your panties.”

“You’re in the wrong job, Harrington. That was quite the show.”

Steve hummed, “yeah, but I can’t walk in heels, so,” he tsked and grinned.

“Anything else to add?” You asked him.

But the boy was already making his way back to the couch so he could settle next to you, a casual arm slung on the back cushions, his hand barely grazing your neck. “Nah, honestly, guys are pretty simple.”

You grinned, nodding. “Well,” you slapped softly at his thigh. “Thanks for your honesty.”

Steve cleared his throat and tried not to act like your hand on his leg was doing what it was doing for him. “Yeah, yeah, same. I, uh, I wish you’d told me last night, though.”

You gazed at him questioningly.

“You know, that you didn’t finish.” Steve suddenly seemed shy, licking at his bottom lip and looking anywhere but your eyes. “I would’ve tried to, uh, make that happen for you.”

“Oh.” You were warmer than you had been all day. “I know. I should’ve said. That wasn’t fair.” It was hard to speak, your throat too tight, your voice breathy and losing that bossy tone it had had before.

Steve finally lifted his gaze back to yours and suddenly, he seemed so much closer than before. He shifted, his hand touching your neck just briefly and you wondered if it was an accident. The forgotten TV timed out, blinked and settled back to black and Steve was multicoloured. The disco bowl still spun, lights shifting slowly over the boy’s skin, your hands in your lap, the cracks in the old walls.

You watched him lick at his lips, mouth pinker than ever with the lights, lashes blinking as he seemed to mull something over in his head. Did he lean in? Or was that you? A shift, a pull, something that someone did that cause your shoulders to bump, your thigh to brush his.

“I could try again,” he whispered. “If you want. For science.”

The disco light spun, colours changed and Steve’s eyes went from honey to amber to gold. He waited, patient, nervous.

“Science?” You whispered and Steve nodded, gaze on your lips.

“Yeah, we could test out those pointers, y’know? See if we actually did need a presentation, might’ve been better off with a diagram or something but hey, you never kn— mmph—”

Steve was cut off, your lips pressed to his, your hands on his cheeks. It was a little messy at first, off kilter and desperate, but you moved closer and let your lips brush over his, your breath a heavy fan over his mouth and chin. You let him chase you, silently checking that this is what he wanted to and your heart was ready to break out of your chest when his hand clutched at your hip and pulled you back. Fingertips travelled up your side, delicate, hesitant, but when they raked through your hair and grabbed at the back of your neck, Steve didn’t waste anymore time.

He kissed you back, lips parting against yours, tongue sliding your own, nose pressed to your cheek. He took it slow, less ramped up and needy than the night before, ‘cause suddenly you were both gifted with all the time in the world. It was a push and pull, all soft presses of your lips on Steve’s, a slow tease, deep and languid. It was bone melting, a simmering heat, a new neediness that you hadn’t felt since the night before.

You pulled back, lips already kiss swollen and pink, eyes a little glazed and you were pleased to see that Steve looked the same. You pressed a hand to his chest and sucked in the breath he’d stolen. “You’re good at that,” you told him, voice a little wrecked. “Mhmm, good kisser, zero complaints.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, pleased with himself. “Five out of five? You’d recommend me to a friend?”

You rolled your eyes and left his side, hauling yourself to your feet. “God, shut up, don’t make me change my mind.”

Steve raised his brows, watching as you backed away, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. “Change your mind?” He asked a little hoarsely. “Change your mind about what?”

You shrugged, waiting until you were at his bedroom door before looking back, your chin pressed to your shoulder and your eyes on him. “Come find out.”

You heard him swear softly under his breath, the scramble from the couch, the way his socks slid against the wooden floorboards. Steve was behind you in an instant, eyes heavy and pupils blown. You grinned as he backed himself clumsily to the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the mattress before he sat with a thump, never once letting his eyes leave you.

“Take your shirt off,” you told him softly. “You kinda waited for me to undress you last night, which, I get the idea behind it but you’re a big boy, Steve, you can do it yourself.”

He merely nodded, stripping himself of his shirt before flinging it somewhere in his room, leaning back on his elbows as you grinned at him. You leaned over to the light switch, the harsh ceiling light clicking off and bathing you both in semi darkness, but before the boy could comment, you switched the bedside lamp on, a softer, warmer light illuminating the space and you.

Steve smiled, nodding. “Compromise, I like it.”

“Right?” You said, “we listened, we took notes, we can do this.”

“We can totally do this,” Steve agreed, “it’s gonna— oh…”

The boy trailed off as you lifted your shirt from your body, slow, enticing, movements measured and you tried not to let your breath shudder with nerves. But as more skin was revealed, the darker Steve’s gaze grew and you were urged on. The shirt hit the floor and your hands found your jeans, fingers toying with the button, the zip and imitating the move Steve had done in the living room, you smiled shyly and turned to the side, bending at the waist so you could slide the denim down over your thighs and knees. You stepped out of them and pulled off your socks too - Steve’s socks - finally showing off the pretty lace set that you had indeed picked out to wear for him.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, watching Steve from under your lashes, enjoying the way he had fisted the sheets in his hands, how his eyes were flickering from your chest to your stomach to your ass to your legs, like he didn’t know where to look first. So you turned again, your back to him, grinning at the wall when he groaned lowly, and brought your hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it and letting the lace fall to the floor too. It took a lot for you to bring your arms down from where they’d naturally crossed in front of your chest, but you let your hands soothe down your stomach until your thumbs hooked into the sides of your underwear and you let them drop down your legs too, a crush of black lace on his bedroom floor.

Completely bare for him, you turned and met his gaze, releasing your bottom lip from where your teeth had pinched at it. “Did you mean something like that?” You asked quietly.

Steve swallowed audibly, his breath coming out in a shaky huff as he nodded, his eyes glazed over as he stared. He kept nodding, eager, his messy hair falling into his face. “Yeah, yeah something like that,” he agreed.

Your knees pressed into the bed as you joined him, squeaking when his hands spanned the side of your waist and pulled you to him. He kissed you like he did on his sofa, all encompassing, his tongue sliding perfectly over yours and you revelled in the way your body lit up for him, a live wire under his touch.

“Wanna make you come,” Steve whispered between kisses and his words made you bite back a groan, “wanna make up for it.”

So you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak until Steve kissed his way down your neck, latching on to a particular spot that made you grab at his hair a little meanly. His lips took their time brushing across your chest, mouthing hotly at your skin, tongue sliding over a nipple, hands gliding over the parts of you he wasn’t kissing. And when he pressed his mouth to your navel, he looked up at you with an earnest expression, all boyish and with his hair falling into his eyes.

“Can I use my mouth?” Steve asked, his lips already brushing over your hip bones, the soft pudge of your stomach.

You whined, nodding, thankful you’d had the courage to ask the boy if you could use his shower after you’d eaten that morning and Steve revelled in the fact your skin smelled like him, his body wash, his shampoo.

“Say it, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, already moving down to spread your legs, hands pushing at each thigh to make room for him to lie between. There was nothing to stop him from seeing every part of you, the soft light casting honey coloured shadows over your skin and it made you squirm. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Please,” you gasped out, blindly grasping for his hair to hold onto, keening when Steve brushed the tip of his nose against your folds, bumping clumsy over your clit. “Please, Steve.”

“How’d you want it?” He asked you quietly and you heard the nervousness there, the need to please you. Steve kissed at your inner thigh, sucked a small bruise there and smiled when your hips lifted from the bed. “You gotta tell me, sweetheart, I wanna do good. How’d you like it, huh?”

Dirty talk wasn’t your forte, never really had been. But Steve was looking at you so sincerely that you couldn’t say no. So you let your head fall back into his pillows and let your lashes flutter closed. “I— I like it soft, at first. Teasing. Like… like little kisses. Just to— oh, god.”

Steve had started doing as you asked, warm hands holding your thighs apart for him, spreading you open so he could press butterfly soft kisses over your cunt. He didn’t focus on one particular part, ghosting over your clit to warm you up, leaving you wanting more. He hummed when you cried out, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. His tongue stroked softly over you, kitten licks over your skin, dipping only once into your entrance, grazing over your clit and making you arch up.

“Like that? Is that better?” Steve murmured.

You nodded, still clutching at strands of his hair. “Yeah, like that,” you agreed and god, you didn’t sound like yourself.

“Keep talkin,” he told you, chin ducking back down so he could taste you again, tongue a slow drag over you.

“More,” you asked, voice high and needy, “please.”

“More what, sweetheart?” Steve was teasing now, he had to be, ‘cause his hands were holding down your hips so you would stop chasing his mouth and your chest was flushed, the same pretty heat crawling across your cheeks. “Told you, you gotta tell me.”

“Your tongue,” you managed to choke out, “keep it— keep it flat and just— oh, shit, Steve.”

The boy was a fast learner, doing exactly what you said as he kept his tongue soft and flat, dragging it slowly over your cunt, licking from your entrance to your clit. He brought his fingers to you, circled them teasingly until you whined and nodded, begging and babbling nonsense. Steve swore into you when you shuddered, two fingers sliding into you easily and he focused his tongue on your clit, keeping up that soft slide against it that you seemed to like best.

“Oh, fuck,” you were panting, thighs hooked over his shoulders and Steve’s face pressed into you, groaning at the way you were grinding against him, fingers slipping deeper, hips lifting and pushing against his tongue. “Fuck, SteveSteveSteve, m’gonna come.”

He didn’t do anything differently, he didn’t dare. Steve just moaned against you, hooked his fingers until you keened and let you ride his face, his tongue staying where it was until you were crying out, pulling on his hair, your thighs shuddering by his ears. He felt you clench down on his fingers, cunt a vice around them and he swore he almost came, his own hips rutting mindlessly against the mattress as you moaned out his name as you settled down.

You were panting, eyes unfocused as Steve crawled back up your body, his lips shiny with you, his gaze looking just as fucked out as you felt and Jesus, he was painfully hard beneath his jeans. You scrambled for him, more keyed up than ever, ‘cause you’d never come like that before, not with someone else. One hand grabbed at his jaw, bringing him down for a kiss as you wrestled with his jeans, fumbling with the button until he broke away to strip them off for you. He looked elated when you chased after him, hands pushing and grabbing at his shoulders until you got him back on the bed, his head hitting the pillows with an ooof, before he pushed himself up on his elbows to watch.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Steve chanted, eyes fluttering and head rolling back when you wrapped a hand around his cock. You watched the way his jaw tensed, how his neck went taught. “I can’t believe m’sayin’ this but - oh Christ, fuck - I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You smiled and then pouted, crawling between the boy’s legs so you could pepper kisses across his stomach, the line of muscle leading to his hips, the dusting of light hair down his navel.

“That’s no fun,” you commented mildly. “C’mon, Steve, have some self control, huh?”

And then you licked a stripe up the length of his cock, catching the underside of his tip with your tongue, unable to stop the grin on your lips when his hips bucked and he cried out. Your name hung in the air with some choice curse words, and you’d have been offended if he didn’t look the way he did. Wrecked, ruined, all messy haired and glossy lips, pupils blown wide for you.

“Want me to stop?” You asked, slowly pumping him.He shook his head, lips parted, chest heaving. You smiled, saccharine sweet and you wondered when you’d last had this much fun in bed with someone. “Tell me when you do, ‘kay?”

Steve groaned his agreement, letting his head fall back and his fingers twist in your hair as you sunk your mouth back down on him, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You hadn’t done this last night, both of you too eager to get to the main event, but you took your time now, doing your best to take as much of him as you could, tongue sliding up and down his cock as you moved him to the back of your throat.

Steve whined when he felt himself nudge there, his cock heavy on your tongue, his hand skimming over your cheek in a surprisingly intimate gesture, but then his thumb tugged at your bottom lip, ran itself across the way it was stretched out around him and it was dirty, it was sheer filth and you moaned around him at the feel of it.

“Oh god, fucking— Jesus Christ, sweetheart, I can’t…” Steve tapped at your head, babbling, eyes panicked as he tried his best to keep his hips from lifting off of the bed and chasing your mouth. “M’gonna fuckin’ explode, you can’t—”

You pulled away, lips swollen and red, eyes a little wide at how affected he seemed to be but before you could ask if he was okay, Steve was pulling you onto his lap, arms wrapped tight around you. He kissed you harder than before, a desperate bite to it that you didn’t mind at all and you keened high when your cunt slid slick over his cock, nudging up against your still sensitive clit.

“Good?” You asked, breathless between kisses, Steve’s face dipping so he could mouth along your jaw, the line of your throat. “Any— god, any notes?”

“None, fuck, no, no, none,” Steve rambled, losing all sense of restraint as he started to guide your hips over his, the length of his cock tucked hard between your slick folds, both of your crying out at the friction. “Ten out of ten, five stars,” he choked out.

You huffed out a soft laugh, lashes fluttering as he nipped and sucked at your collarbone, your hands reaching to twist into his hair, holding him to your. “Would you… shit, Steve… would you recommend me to a friend?”

Steve wanted to growl. Mine mine mine mine mine.

Instead, he laughed too, shaking his head as he moved his lips back to your neck, nosing over the soft skin, grazing the line of your jaw until he found your mouth again. He kissed you too sweetly, too lazily, for the way you were rocking over him, desperate to chase some sort of release again.

“Nah,” he managed to answer, “they couldn’t handle you.”

You grinned, pleased with his answer, even if it was a lie. You kissed the boy, too wrapped up in the way he felt under you to call him out on it. Instead you let him run his hands down your back, fingers tripping up over the curves there, the arch of your back, the line of your waist.

“And you can?”

Steve pulled back, still so close, nose grazing your own and he hid his smile with a twist of his lips. He smirked instead, gaze lowered to look at your lips. He shrugged, too casual and said, “I’ll give it a good try.”

You knew from last night where Steve kept the condoms, leaning over him to rummage in his bedside drawer until you could rip open the foil packet and throw it somewhere for one of you to find later. The boy hissed when you rolled it on him, over sensitive already and god, your hands were shaking. He kneaded your hips with rough fingers, leaned back into the pillows and he was cast in the warm light, skin looking tanned and apricot under the glow.

“Like this?” Steve murmured and everything turned a little softer, the air taught with something that hadn’t been there the night before, no cheap beer to dull the senses, the weed long worn off. “Or do you want something else? Just tell me,” Steve was gazing up at you, his words sticky in his throat and god, was he as nervous as you were? “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Like this,” you agreed, nodding and suddenly you were desperate to feel him.

You knelt up, dipping the mattress on either side of him and Steve helped you move over him, fisting his cock and letting you sink down onto it, eyes clenching shut as you lowered. He was a tight fit, almost too big and Steve groaned as he slipped in, hands rubbing soothing at your hips until you’d taken him to the base.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out, chest heaving, jaw slack. “You feel so good, just— just gimme a minute.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, agreeing with everything Steve said, hands clutching at his wrists as he held you, ready to explode from the inside out, ‘cause you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. “Shit, s’good, I can’t—”

“Take your time,” Steve told you, gasping out when you rolled your hips, barely lifting yourself off of him but the way he nudged up against your walls had you crying out. “Fucking hell, that’s it, shit, baby, there you go.”

Baby.

Different than sweetheart, better, warmer, holding less sarcasm, making you feel sticky sweet with it, his words cloying, his hands on your skin even more so.

You were panting, skin slick, too warm despite the snow piling up higher and higher outside and the noises that fell from the back of your throat only seemed to spur Steve on. He was greedy with it, hyper focused on making you come again, ‘cause he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go on without seeing you fall apart for him again. He liked the way his name sounded on your tongue, how you grabbed and scratched at him when you wanted more.

He wanted it again and again and again—

“What d’you need?” Steve asked, voice cracking in the middle when he lifted his hips to meet yours.

You cried out, eyes glassy, falling into him so you could wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest to his. “More,” you murmured back, “more of you.”

You didn’t know what that meant, and neither did Steve, not really but it made him smile because you were so past gone on him it wasn’t even funny. So you let him manhandle you, rolling you both until he had you pinned to the mattress and he hitched one leg over a forearm, holding you open so he could drive into you deeper.

“Like that?” Steve asked and you nodded, fingers tripping down your skin until they landed in your clit and you rubbed circles there, clenching down on him when you hit that right spot. “Oh shit, oh shitshitshit, please tell me you’re close.”

Steve’s thrust started to stutter, his rhythm picking up as he slammed into you a little harder, a little deeper and your eyes shuttered closed as you got what you wanted. More of Steve. You nodded, mouth falling open, jaw slack and Steve used his free hand to run his palm up your body, pinching at a nipple before letting his fingers rest at the base of your throat as he fucked up into you.

“Steve,” you gasped and he moaned back, a strangled sound that might’ve been your name too and he could feel you tightening around him again, just like you did around his fingers and then you were cursing into the dim of his bedroom, clutching tightly at the boy when he came too, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself over you until he buried his face into the crook of your neck and swore.

“That— that was—”

You nodded, skin still tingling. “Yeah,” you croaked, “that was, yeah.”

“—so fuckin’ good.”

“So much better.”

“Holy shit, we’re good at that.”

“Insane.”

“There’s a lot to be said for listening in class, huh?”

...

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

983 notes · View notes