#I *hope* I never have more expensive eggs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lionizingheathen · 1 year

Text

Agreement - R.L.

Flatmate!Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Giving your flatmate, Remus Lupin a blowjob to help him relax

Warnings: Smut, Oral sex male recieving, face fucking, pet names, cum swallowing

"Y/N." Remus asked from your doorway, and you raised an eyebrow. What was he doing in your room? He didn't often just come in, normally he was invited.

"Yeah, what's up?" You glanced over at him, brows furrowing. He had bags under his eyes and his cheeks looked sallow... he hadn't been taking care of himself and he probably had forgotten to take his potion. Which he needed to do. Soon. "You look like hell, did you take your potion?" You asked, and he shook his head, rubbing his eyes. He needed to, you knew that.

"Not yet, no." He glanced around your room, as if he was worried that someone was going to be in there, listening to your conversation. "Are you willing to do something for me?" He asked, and you nodded, putting your bookmark into your book.

"Uh... Sure, what's up?" You asked, setting your book down as you sat more attentively. He was quiet, chewing on his lip thoughtfully, as if he was trying to figure out how to ask what he wanted to ask.

"Give me a blowjob." He said, and you nearly dropped your book as you looked over at him, hoping that your face didn't betray your shock at him saying that. You'd happily do that... Remus seemed like he'd be fun in bed.

"Okay... I really thought you were going to say like 'go to the store and buy me eggs' or something along that line..." You said, and he shrugged.

"I think it would help the aggression." God...

"Are you feeling agressive?" You asked and he scoffed, giving you an annoyed look. Fair, that was self explanatory and you knew it.

"Of course I am. You know I am." Remus snapped, and you rolled your eyes. Werewolves. So dramatic... probably. Remus was the only one that you'd met.

"Normally you just... handle it, I don't know." You said flippently, and he was quiet.

"How did you know that?" He asked, and you chewed on your lip. Caught.

"The walls are thin, Remus. I know a lot of what you get up to." You murmured, giving him a half smile. He grimaced, picking at the ends of his sleeves as he spoke, clearly not appreciating how easily you had said that to him.

"That's incredibly disconcerning, I don't like that at all." He mumbled, and you shrugged, kicking your feet up on your desk once again. Clearly this would probably just end in a conversation, nothing more, so there was no need to be sitting at attention.

"Move out, then. Get a more expensive apartment." You sighed, and he was silent for a moment, leaning against your wall, fiddling with his fingers.

"Are you listening to me on purpose?" He asked, and you felt your face get hot. Yes. But only sometimes, only when you needed to get off... only when you wanted to fantasize.

"No."

"You're lying." He said, and you shook your head. Yeah, you were lying but he didn;'t need to know that.

"I'm not lying, I have never intentionally tuned into you while you're wanking, Remus." You said, and he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stretch up, the hem of his sweater coming up as he did.

"I have." He sighed, and your head snapped away from the strip of skin and back to his face. What?

"Hm?" You asked, and he shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets as he kicked his foot at the ground.

"Intentionally tuned into you while you're wanking... or while you're being fucked." He said, and you felt like you were going to fall out of your chair. What the fuck?

"Why?" He asked, and he shrugged, taking a step closer to you as he spoke. God, this energy looked fucking good on him.

"Becuase I know I could do it better than any of them. I'd have you trembling and screaming within moments and they can't even last long enough to make you cum. You've got horrible taste in guys." He said, and you rolled your eyes. Most of them were scared off by Remus, it wasn't as if you had a long line of suitors.

"Shut up." He flicked his eyebrow up at you.

"Come suck my cock and I will." He said, and you tried to ignore the pang between your thighs. This was all about making him feel better.

"Demanding."

"Tie your hair up and get the fuck over here." He said, and you did just that, standing up to walk over to him.

"Sit on the edge of my bed." You sighed, and he nodded, sitting down with his hands splayed behind him, a small smirk on his face. The way that the deep scar on his cheek distorted it slightly... God.

"Okay..." He said and you walked over, falling to your knees beside him. You didn't miss the way that he inhaled sharply at that, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. You unbuttoned his pants, tapping his hip lightly so he would lift his hips. You dragged his pants down his thighs, his boxers quickly following, making his cock spring up against his stomach. It was thick and long, intimidating. You brought a hand up to wrap around it, unable to meet your fingers on either side. He was bigger than moast people you'd been with... and he probably knew how to use it.

"Holy fuck." You murmured, brushing your thumb over the tip, making him jump as he hissed out a breath. So sensitive.

"What? What's wrong?" He asked, and you smiled up at him, jerking your hand up and down his cock, making him let out a low and throaty groan.

"Nothing... You're just really big." You said, and you kissed up the side of his cock, flicking your tongue over the veins. "And your cock is really pretty." You murmured, and he let out a nervous sort of chuckle, clearly trying to keep from thrusting into your face.

"I don't know if I agree with that..." His voice jumped up as you brought the tip of his cock into your mouth, licking over the slit, tasting the precum that was leaking from it. It made your cunt throb.

"You taste good." You murmured, pulling back for a moment to lick up the side before sucking on the tip again, enjoying his movements, the way he was quickly becoming desperate. There was a reason people finished so fast when they were with you.

"Please get on with it." He groaned, and you opened your mouth wider, taking him further into your mouth, choking when he hit the back of your throat. He pulled away from you. "You don't have to take it all, I understand-." You shook your head, looking up at him with a wide smile.

"I want you to fuck my throat until it's raw, Remus. Stop being polite when you were just being demanding." You said, and he nodded, taking a deep breath.

"... Okay." You swallowed him down quickly, forcing yourself to take him all the way down your throat, making him let out a loud shout of your name. Your neighbors were gonna hate this... not that you cared. "Merlin's... fuck... your mouth is so warm..." He moaned, and you bobbed your head up and down, trying to take more of him. You wanted all of him down your throat.

"Mmmph." You groaned, and he pressed his hand into your hair, lifting his hips to fuck into your throat, making him hiss.

"Tight... your throat is so tight." He sighed. "Holy shit, you look even prettier than I could've imagined." You blushed, but pulled back. He was being too gentle, too sweet... he needed release, he didn't need sweet.

"Fuck, Remus. I'm doing this so you can take out your aggression. So use me." You instructed, and you watched as he shivered, throwing his head back for a moment. He was beautiful, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat, his stomach rising and falling quickly, knuckles white as he gripped your comforter. He looked nearly feral when he glanced back down at you, shaking his head.

"You can't talk like that." He said, and you shrugged, smirking at him as you leaned back in, flicking your tongue out across his tip.

"Then shut me up, or I'll continue." He pulled you back down, letting out a laugh that almost came off as bitter.

"You're so fucking cocky." He fucked your face faster, making you choke around him. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you thought of him taking you like this, fucking your cunt until it was ruined for anyone else. "It'd be annoying if you weren't fit." He grunted, and your eyes rolled back as he forced himself deeper. You breathed out of your nose, wanting to let him use your throat for as long as you could.

"You were made for this. Made to be my cocksleeve, weren't you?" He groaned, and you blushed. You would've nodded had he not chosen to increase his pace. Fuck.

"Mhm."

"I bet your cunt is even better... I'll be taking that soon as well. Maybe I should just do this every time I get angry... come in here and fuck you until I'm relaxed, would you like that?" He pulled you up by your hair, glaring down at you as you gasped for air. "I asked you a fucking question." He said, and you nodded. God, that sounded good.

"Yes... Open door policy." You coughed, and he nodded, giving you a large grin as he tugged your hair, making you swallow his cock once again

"Good girl. That's what I was thinking." He murmured. He held your head down, making your eyes water as your nose pressed agianst his pelvis. You dug your nails into his thighs, choking around him as he let you go, let you get a breath in before he began again, fucking your throat in earnest. God, this was hot.

"Fuck, you're so good at this baby, so good..." You brought your hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit, whimpering at how swollen it was. God, you wanted to cum. Above you, Remus growled, yanking hard on your hair. "Don't touch yourself, I want you to be horny for me... in case I need more. Gotta have you ready." He groaned, and you pulled your hand away, whimpering at the loss as you chose instead to scratch at his legs, making him let out a high moan. Fuck, he sounded so pretty.

"I'm getting close baby. So close." He groaned, chewing on his lips as he continued fucking your throat, his pace getting sloppy. This was perfect... Remus Lupin using your throat, you could cross something off your bucket list.

"I'm cumming..." He held your hair, making sure you wouldn't pull off... not that you were planning on it. "Fuck... Y/N! Swallow it... Take it all, baby." He gasped as he came down your throat. You swallowed around him frantically, moaning at the taste... God, everything about him was utterly intoxicating. You sat back on your kness, giving him a wide smile before you let yourself drop onto his lap.

"Jesus, that was..." You sighed, shaking your head.

"Was it too much?" He asked, and you shook your head, easing him back onto the bed.

"Remus, that was the hottest thing I've ever experienced." You promised, him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as you settled down beside him.

"Really?" He asked, and you nodded, lunging forward to press a kiss to his lips. He looked shocked when you pulled back, and for a moment you were worried that you'd misread the situation, before he pulled you back in, kissing you deeply. You moaned into his mouth, grinding your slick cunt onto his skin blindly, needing any friction you could get... God, you needed to feel him inside you.

"Yeah." You rolled on top of him, straddling his waist. "I need you to fuck me." You said, and he let out a long sigh, chuckling at the end of it as he shook his head, resting his hands on your hips.

"I need to recover for a moment... Can't... I need to rest. But we will. I promise." He said, and you nodded, looking away from him as you slid to the side, feeling embarrassed as you sat on the edge of the bed.

"Right, sorry." You said, and a moment later you felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back down beside him.

"S'okay." You laid like that for a moment, silent, existing in each other's space. "You know? We actually do need some eggs and some bread... milk too..." He mumbled into your hair, and you chuckled.

"I'll go get them." You sighed, and he let out a groan as you stood up, taking yourself out of his arms. You watched as he burrowed into the blankets, giving you an almost-glare.

"Hurry back. I'll be waiting." He mumbled, and you paused for a moment. He was going to fuck you when you were back... there were steps that should be taken.

"Should I get condoms too?" You asked, and he shook his head, giving you a large, lazy grin as he rolled over, laying on his stomach. He looked good, tangled up in your sheets.

"Oh, we're not using them, just take a potion..." He paused for a moment, looking worried. "Is that okay?" His question was soft and gentle, a far cry from the first one he'd asked this evening. You gave him a smile as you shrugged on your sweater and nodded. There was nothing more okay than that.

"Fuck yes. I'll be back." You said, shutting the door behind you with a large grin growing on your face, replacing the tentative one from moments earlier.

4K notes · View notes

citruslullabies · 1 month

Text

Something to tide you guys over until my break is done

Dogday headcannons: if he was your husband

Not that he can get LEGALLY married to you

Or choose out the ring he would propose to you with

But you guys had a little makeshift wedding in your backyard

You decided it'd be funny if Dogday wore the dress, which he only agreed to since he wanted to see you happy

Yeahhhhh... That white dress tore. Very quickly. Because it wasn't meant for someone of his size

Luckily it wasn't expensive, just an old white dress of yours

(man I hope it wasn't an expensive one-)

Poppy was kind of the priest, and Kissy was the flower girl

Yeah she uh... Couldn't find a whole lot of flowers so there was some poison ivy in the mix .

Very chaotic wedding day!

But Dogday is very happy to be your husband

He is a little more touchy now, but in a wholesome way

(ex. He will hold your waist in both hands while nuzzling his fat head against your neck)

Very happily refers to himself as your husband

"Oh there's some trash on the table I need to clea-" "your husband will get that for you"

He is absolutely amazed that you guys are married

He can't necessarily buy you gifts, but he does try to do stuff for you

Like cook you breakfast

Those eggs are somehow burnt on the outside and raw on the inside.....

He isn't as good at cooking as he was before the hour of joy. He kind of lost those skills after 10 years

Yes he was a good cook at one point

Shocking, I know

Maybe for you he'll try to get those skills back... Maybe

(do not trust this man with baking until you KNOW he's okay with cooking)

He absolutely adores you though

Snuggles up with you more, and is even more protective over you

Didn't even know that was possible

He is keeping his trusty weapon close.

Which by the way! Who was gonna tell me everyone was giving one to him?? I've seen axes and bricks and pipes-

I wanna jump on that band wagon!! I think it'd be really cool!

I feel like he'd use his old medallion

Sharpen the edges, and use it to slice

Or he'd have a home-crafted knife

I like to think he's very crafty due to his experience with children

But either way, sharp objects

(objects he'd keep close by at all times to make sure you and the others are safe)

You will wake up to him by your side every morning, and go to bed with him by your side every night.

He is absolutely smitten with you and will probably never leave the honeymoon phase

This doesn't mean he won't playfully bully you, vise versa too.

But you guys are in a good loving relationship

Shame that you can't live forever and neither can he.

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #dogday #dogday poppy playtime #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #poppy’s playtime x reader #poppys playtime #poppy playtime dogday #dogday x you

295 notes · View notes

kyleknight · 1 year

Text

bed bugs: something I hope you never have to see irl

Hello there. I just spent about $800 or more dealing with and getting rid of bed bugs (and my infestation was thankfully not bad at all) so Im making this post to hopefully help someone else out there.

What are they?

horrible tiny bugs that are masters of hiding that come out at night and suck human blood (although they can bite pets)

they are good at hiding but they can’t really burrow down into things, so they tend to hide in folds and creases of your mattress and box spring

they can only suck blood and inject anticoagulant to make you bleed. they dont have claws or pincer mouth parts, so their only defense is hiding when they’re not eating

they do lay eggs but they don’t lay a ton of them. if you catch them early enough, then there might not be too many bugs in your home

How do they get in my house?

it only takes one to start an infestation. they can be picked up just about anywhere, but the more likely places are associated with high volumes of travel: hotels, buses, trains, airports, and sometimes even hospitals, nursing homes, or day cares

they sometimes come in on luggage, personal bags, or shoes, hide until they feel comfortable, and then seek out people, which they can track by body heat and air exhalation

How do I know if I have them?

if you are getting insect bites on your arms, back, and legs which are not the little red spots of flea bites and also not the small swollen spots of mosquito bites. bed bug bites tend to swell up a lot across patches of skin, especially if you’re allergic to them (which most people are)

basically they look like rashes or welts and they can be VERY itchy

also, if you inspect your mattress and box spring and you notice tiny little spots of blood on the edges, it’s a fairly clear sign

the actual bugs are very small and hard to spot but sometimes you can find their eggs, which are also tiny and white in color, in your dryer lint

Can I get rid of them with sprays?

unfortunately no. any of the sprays you can buy at Walmart or any other store are useless unless you are spraying the bug directly. the only method of completely eradicating them for good is to contact an exterminator and have them handle it. the sooner the better

if you do see them, you can spray them, but doing so will only be scratching the surface of the actual infestation

Do I have to get a new mattress or new bedding?

as long as you thoroughly wash and dry all of your bedding, you don’t have to get rid of anything. make sure you dry on high heat to kill anything that might potentially be hiding in it

also a VERY important thing to get is a zipped mattress protector. put that on your mattress and your box spring and the bugs will never be able to get through it. you can sleep comfortably again. it HAS to be a zipped protector that completely encases the mattress

and vacuum your floor. vacuum it and empty the vacuum immediately. throw the contents away, tie it all up tight in a trash bag, and take it to the dumpster right away

I truly hope that nobody reading this ever has to go through what I went through. It’s frustrating not being able to sleep because you’re so worried you’re going to get bitten by tiny bugs you can’t even see. It’s not your fault if you get them; it only takes one to start a serious problem.

But if you do suspect them, act on it as quickly as possible. The worse it gets, the more expensive it is to treat your home to eliminate them.

Take care!

#Im going to blaze this because I would like for my experience to help someone out there #my experience was not great but its finally over and I feel happy in my home again #bugs #ok I fixed the typo so gonna try this again

1K notes · View notes

hookedonhuge · 6 months

Text

A Hard Challenger to Beat

Wednesday night was men-only at the small country town bar. Living in a remote area could get awfully boring at times, but boy’s night was a highlight for most of the men’s weeks. There was truly nothing like blowing off some steam with your pals after a hard day’s work. No hassles, no consequences, just dudes having fun.

One of the main attractions on Wednesday nights was the Beat Billy pool challenge. The challenge was simple: play Billy in a game of pool, if you lose you have to give him ten dollars, and if you win then you get a special reward.

What was the special reward? If you saw Billy in action, it wouldn’t take long to find out. Every Wednesday night you could find Billy bent over the pool table lining up for a shot, with his big butt sticking out and his jeans, stuffed with ten dollar notes, looking like they’re about to split.

Yep, the special reward was an all-expense paid trip down to pound town (also known as the last stall in the men’s bathroom) with the one and only, Bubble Butt Billy. It was a shame that Billy was the best darn pool player in that town and the next town over.

It was a lucrative business for Billy, who never once had to surrender his pride to another man. However, it was speculated that the Beat Billy challenge was more profitable for the bar than it was for Billy himself. The challenge drew large crowds of pent-up men, some, who in their lustful delusions, thought themselves skilled or lucky enough to earn themselves some quality time with Billy’s behind, and others, who were more financially conscious, would instead egg on their pals to give the challenge a go just for the chance to see Billy bend over the pool table a couple more times.

Without a fault, each Wednesday night would bring to the bar a rowdy crowd, despite how predictable the events of the night were. Billy would pocket a nice amount spending money at the expense of his hopeful challengers, and the patrons would get their fair share of Bubble Butt Billy action. Billy barely had to try against his challengers and was eager to play a game of pool against an actually formidable opponent, and on one Wednesday night he got exactly that.

It was a Wednesday night that seemed to be going the same as every other Wednesday before it. Billy had just defeated yet another challenger and was counting ten dollar bills with his signature cocky smirk painted across his face. “Anyone else want to challenge me?” he said, teasing his audience by leaning his upper body ever so slightly over the pool table.

“I will.” An unfamiliar voice boomed from the back of the room. Billy turned around to size up the stranger. Billy, who was never short of words to belittle his upcoming challengers, was silent. It wasn’t the stranger’s face that left Billy at a loss for words; his eyes hadn’t even gotten up that far. Billy’s gaze was stuck on the bulging mass that was tenting the stranger’s tight jeans. For the first time in a long while Billy remembered the consequences of losing the challenge, his mind trapped in thoughts of how his virgin hole would fare if he lost this one time.

“My eyes are up here buddy,” the stranger said in a playful tone, strutting towards Billy with an irresistible swagger. “Just teasin’ ya. The name’s Rick,” he said warmly, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “I’d like to challenge you to a game of pool. I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”

Billy snapped out of his daze and shook Rick’s hand. “You’re new around here, so I’ll have to warn you not to get your hopes up,” Billy said, building up his confident facade again. “I haven’t even been trying tonight.”

“I expect nothing but your best.” Rick was unfazed. “I’ll let you break.”

Billy picked up his cue stick and the white ball as Rick set up the rest of the balls to break. As he had done a hundred times before, Billy got ready to begin play, lining his cue stick up to hit the white ball as his butt pointed out towards the leering spectators. Usually, Billy was so quick in his play that his opponent’s wouldn’t have time to register that the match had started. That night, Billy wasn’t so fast to start.

The cause of Billy’s delay was his opponent, who was standing on the opposite side of the table with his crotch directly in Billy’s line of sight. Rick’s hands were on his waist and he leaned just a little bit back to accentuate his large package.

“All bark and no bite,” Billy muttered under his breath. Billy struck the white ball, which jetted in the group of remaining balls causing them to scatter. Not a single ball had been potted into one of the holes, which was unusual for Billy.

It was Rick’s turn and he grabbed one of the cue sticks from the rack. He stroked the long wooden stick with his powerful hand lewdly under the guise of surveying its quality. “You know where I’m from, they call me Thick Stick Rick,” he said to Billy as he walked past him, meeting Billy’s gaze with a wink.

Rick quickly potted two balls in a row with ease, putting Billy on the back foot. Billy countered with his renowned precision. He potted three balls in quick succession and set himself up for an easy put away with a fourth.

The white ball had rolled to the centre of the large table meaning that Billy had to lean over extra far to reach it, causing his two large cheeks to stretch his jean fabric to its limit. Billy, who had been able to regain focus in the match, was about to sink his ball into one of the pockets when he felt something large and hard brush up against his crack. He turned around to see Rick towering over his lower half.

“Hey, you have to win first before you can have any of that,” Billy snapped, audibly annoyed.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Rick said, feigning sincerity. “I just forget how big I am sometimes.”

Billy tried his best to brush off Rick’s comment and struck the white ball, but it clearly affected him as the ball he was aiming for, which was set up so well, bounced off the rim of the pocket and back towards the centre of the pool table. Billy swore under his breath; he never missed a shot like that.

“Don’t stress about it,” Rick said, placing his middle and index finger into one of the pockets. “These holes are so tight,” he wriggled his two fingers, “that these balls only just fit in.”

Rick’s innuendos had a marked effect on Billy, allowing Rick to even the scoreboard in spite of the vast difference in their skill levels. Each player now had one ball each to put away before they could go for the win by potting the eight ball. It was Billy’s turn and he was once again bent over the table, ass in the air, and lining up for a shot.

“Looking good Billy boy.” Rick chimed in as Billy was doing some practice shots in front of the white ball to check he had the right alignment.

“I don’t need you to help me with my alignment, I’m the expert… '' Billy trailed off as he realised Rick wasn’t commenting on his shot preparation. Instead, Rick’s eyes were glued to Billy’s famous butt.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping my eyes on the prize,” Rick said, biting his bottom lip.

Billy tried to ignore Rick and went ahead with his shot. He managed to pot his final ball, but foolishly sunk the white ball as well. The crowd, who had fallen silent from the tension of the match, let out a gasp when Billy made this rare error.

Rick was able to sink his final ball as well, leaving the two in a race to pot the eight ball first for the win. Rick had no success on his first attempt as the eight ball was stuck in a tricky position. His comparative lack of experience showed as Rick was not careful enough to put the eight ball in a difficult position for his opponent to finish off.

All Billy needed to do was hit a straight shot from one end of the table to the other, which was easy for a player like himself. Rick, the schemer he was, was still not out of ideas. He moved himself behind the pocket Billy was planning to sink the eight ball into and started grinding his huge bulge against that corner pocket.

“How badly do you want to get into this hole, cause I want to get into this hole real bad,” Rick said with a slight grunt. Billy stayed silent. “It’s only a small hole Billy boy, it could be a real struggle to fit in.” Billy lined up his shot. “God Billy,” Rick’s voice turned low and rough as he took a step back from the table and squeezed his tightly wrapped manhood with his hand. “I’m a big boy, and I’m not even hard yet. You can’t even imagine the damage I could do to your bussy, or is that what you want? Have you been going easy on me on purpose Billy boy?”

Billy’s face was red from a mixture of anger and fear. He was sweating profusely and his hands were trembling. Billy drew his cue stick back then thrusted it forward with as much might as possible. The white ball rocketed into the eight ball which slammed into the pocket. In his desperation, Billy had struck the white ball far too hard and it followed the eight ball into the pocket.

Despair was the only thing that could describe Billy. Sinking the eight ball and fouling in the same shot was an automatic loss. The crowd knew this and roared with excitement. Thick Stick Rick was victorious.

Billy looked to the crowd, his eyes pleading for mercy. This was futile as the crowd, who had lost a lot of money over the years to Billy, were seeking retribution and Rick would deliver it.

“Rick! Rick! Thick Stick Rick!” the crowd chanted.

Rick approached the defeated Billy. “I ain’t gonna force you or nothin’ Billy boy, I ain’t like that,” Rick said, placing his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “But if you –”

“I’m a man of my word Rick. I couldn’t show my face in this town again if I didn’t go through with this.” Billy replied earnestly, not letting Rick finish.

“That’s the Bubble Butt Billy I’ve heard so much about. Now don’t you worry, Rick is gonna treat you real nice.” Rick gave Billy’s big butt a friendly smack.

The crowd’s chanting reached a climax as Billy and Rick walked into the men’s bathroom together. “Give ‘em hell Rick!” yelled a frenzied patron.

Soon, the bar fell into silence as the once raucous spectators listened suspensefully. At first there was no sound coming from the bathroom. After a little while a faint banging noise could be heard. It got louder and louder, until Billy’s moaning commenced. Billy reached a transcendent state, his shameless moans of pleasure filling up the bar and causing the pants of everyone in it to become a little more snug. Some opted to loosen their belts to relieve the pressure that was quickly building below.

“That son of a whore Billy is really enjoying this isn’t he?” commented one of the bargoers.

“Rick sure is a stallion!” remarked another.

“Billy won’t be able to walk properly for a week!”

“Don’t tell me Bubble Butt Billy lost on purpose!”

Rick and Billy’s erotic encounter culminated with a shared orgasmic roar that reverberated throughout the entire establishment. Rick, ever the gentlemen, offered to book a hotel room for the two of them for the night once he caught his breath back. All Billy could do was nod and collapse into Rick’s arms, his body completely exhausted.

“You’ve got a body that men like me dream about, Billy boy.” Rick kissed Billy on the forehand and proceeded to carry him out of the bar on his shoulders to a nearby hotel. There, Billy slept peacefully in Rick’s arms and Rick dozed off with his hands cupping Billy’s big cheeks.

#muscle butt #dump truck #gay fiction #gay story #gay bulge

156 notes · View notes

icequeenbae · 2 months

Text

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.3 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 5.3k (pt.3)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

Chapter Masterlist [ongoing]: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: Hiiii sweethearts!! I learned yesterday that my blog has earned 10k likes from you, so I decided that there was no better way to say thanks than to post part 3 of this story hehe Hope you like this little token of appreciation! 💕 And prepare thyselves, this is gonna be pretty intense 🔥🔥🔥

Tags: @bbh-net @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @lavnderluv @cupreoussyzygy @byunbaek-hyun-04

PART 3

‘I hate my life, Yu…’

‘Wow, haven’t heard that one before,’ your friend responded sarcastically.

‘I’m serious this time!’ You shrieked.

‘Stop yelling in my ear,’ she grumbled, shifting on the bed. ‘Your life sucks just ‘cause you’re too sensitive.’

You whined loudly, which couldn’t prevent her from continuing her lecture for the nth time.

‘I get that you were caught off guard. But who’s that chick to make such disgusting comments? I’m sure you looked hot as hell in his shirt, and she was jealous of you.’

‘Thanks, but you have no idea what she looked like…’

‘She probably isn’t even that pretty; you just thought she was in the spur of a moment. You get confused easily.’

‘No, I don’t! I can’t say her face is the prettiest I’ve seen, but she was dressed in expensive clothes, her hair seemed perfect, and she was skinny.’

‘Who cares? Is that why you’re not eating tteokbokki for the first time in your life??’

‘I’m not hungry,’ you groaned.

‘You’re always hungry! I’ve never seen you turn down street food! Can you at least eat the egg?’

‘Eat it yourself.’

Yuki gasped.

‘Are you sure you’re not terminally ill? Shall I call an ambulance?’ She asked and then shifted in place. ‘Or better yet… shall I call him?’

‘What? No!’ You almost pounced on your friend out of fear.

She was kidding, but you knew what she was capable of.

‘Y/N… It’s been a week. You can’t be avoiding him forever.’

‘I can. And I will.’

‘Come on! Why would you? It’s obvious from their convo that she isn’t his girlfriend, more like an annoying ex. If even that. Maybe she’s a stalker… So why are you retreating to your shell again?’

‘Because! What if she is his ex? I don’t think we’re exactly similar in any way, and if she is his type, then…’

‘Then what? Didn’t he mercilessly kick her out? So what exactly does she have on you?’

You sighed, turning away. It wasn’t that you were ugly or had low self-esteem. But people had their… preferences and beauty standards. And you imagined that guys like Baekhyun usually went for girls like her. Not the girls next door. It wasn’t as much about beauty as…

She just seemed more exciting. And you were anything but.

‘Just talk to him. Pretty sure the abundance of missed calls means that he wants to clear up the misunderstanding.’

‘Do you have soju?’

‘I’m not pouring you alcohol when you’ve been starving yourself for days! Besides, you have work tomorrow, don’t you?’

‘I thought I was the boring one,’ you grumbled, pouting at your friend.

Although you didn’t have a drop of anything, the next day at work was just as agonizing as the entire week prior. You were usually pretty happy about Fridays (with the whole weekend ahead), but you were in a sour mood this time. Going home meant getting anxious about running into your neighbor, and you hadn’t come up with what to tell him yet. So, the sooner the end of your working hours approached, the more uneasy you felt.

Baekhyun hadn’t tried calling or texting you today, and this was hardly a relief. Did he give up on you and your weird tantrums? Most likely. But then again, maybe it was for the best. This way, you wouldn’t have a chance to live in the world you’d imagined. At times, especially right before you went to sleep, you’d think back to the events of that day. And inevitably, the memories of the two of you making out on his couch would pop up in your head. Then the intruder barges in and looks down on you. Humiliating you with her comments in front of Baekhyun. Goosebumps marathoned across your body every time you recalled that. Especially your own pathetic reaction. Why didn’t you tell her off? Why did you suddenly feel so insecure?

Your desire to avoid going home was so strong that you ended up drinking with some of your colleagues at a bar. Secretly, you’d also hoped that alcohol would erase the unpleasant memories. And at least for a bit, you’d stop beating yourself up forever thinking you and Baekhyun could work. You were hurt many times when your exes left for someone, but the incident in his apartment was different. It was like a quick sneak peek into this situation, and you didn’t like how it made you feel. And it shouldn’t have affected you this way. You and Baekhyun weren’t even a thing.

But Yuki was definitely right about denying you access to alcohol. Too bad you were an adult with all the means to get as much of it as you desired.

‘Why is this button dancing around? It’s not supposed to move,’ you slurred out, unable to call the elevator. ‘Jinwoo-yah, it’s not working.’

‘Let me press it for you, Y/N-ssi.’

Your colleague leaned in, still holding you close to his side to prevent you from collapsing to the floor, and pressed the button. His ‘heroic’ action made you giggle.

‘Jinwoo-ya-ah, you’re the bestest!’

He snickered at your expressiveness and helped you inside the elevator.

‘Which floor?’

‘Thirteen.’ You giggled throughout the ride up, although you didn’t know what was funny about that number.

‘You’re in pretty bad shape, sunbae.’ He sighed, catching you when you almost tripped, walking out. ‘What’s your passcode?’

‘No-no-no!’ You shook your index finger in front of his nose. ‘I don’t tell all the pretty boys my passcode!’

Jinwoo looked at you helplessly, probably grasping that you were unable to actually press it in yourself.

And he was right. After about five minutes of you trying and failing, he suggested again.

‘Just tell me, and I’ll do it.’

‘Okay. It’s 3-2- no, 1-… 2-1-6… Wait. Was it?’ You were confused by your own thoughts now.

‘Y/N?’

You turned your head towards the voice.

‘Baekhyunie!’ You jumped on the spot and almost dropped yourself on the tile if not for your helpful colleague’s hands on your waist. ‘Do you remember my passcode? Jinwoo doesn’t know it…’

Baekhyun didn’t respond, scanning you and the man beside you.

‘What happened?’ He addressed the guy, earning a pout from you.

‘Our team was out, and she had too much soju on an empty stomach,’ he explained. ‘Tomorrow morning’s gonna be bad, so she should lie down ASAP. Do you know her passcode by any chance?’

‘No.’ Baekhyun answered. ‘But I’ll deal with her. You can go, thanks.’

Jinwoo was reluctant to let go of you.

‘Uh- wait. She’s really drunk. I don’t think I can just leave her-’

‘She’s been alone with me many times. Don’t worry about it.’ Baekhyun pierced your poor colleague with his eyes, gripping your waist.

‘Are you taking me home, oppa-yah? Can we make out on your couch again?’ You murmured, leaning into him.

‘Aish. You’re shameless.’ He chuckled, turning to Jinwoo, who was still by your side.

He was less sure that he needed to be there now.

‘I’ll… Uh- I’ll just go then. Take care!’ He blurted, nodding at Baekhyun before walking away.

‘Bye, Jin-jinwoo!’ You waved at him happily.

‘Come on in,’ Baekhyun shooed you into his apartment. ‘How did you even get this drunk…’

He crouched in front of you, helping you out of your shoes.

‘…and with a bunch of male colleagues, I’m sure. He can’t just leave you with me? Pfft!’ He kept grumbling as he almost carried you into the kitchen.

After making you drink some water, he brought you to the next destination – his bedroom.

‘Can you stand here while I change the sheets?’

‘No-ho!’ Your knees instantly grew weak, and you’d fall if not for Baekhyun’s hold.

‘Wow, your condition is worse than I thought. Let’s sit you down then.’

‘No! Don’t change them!’

He looked at you in bafflement.

‘You don’t want me to change the sheets?’

You closed your eyes, head too heavy to shake to indicate your answer.

‘I want… Baekhyunie’s sheets.’ You shoved him away, stumbling over nothing and falling onto his bed face first.

‘Y/N-ah…’ He sounded like he was about to scold you.

‘No. Baekhyunie’s sheets smell nice.’

‘The clean ones smell even nicer.’ He tried.

‘No. They don’t smell like oppa.’ You quipped, burying your nose in his pillow.

‘You like how oppa smells?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.

‘Yes. Comfy.’

‘Comfy?’

‘Yes. I like him. But he likes other type.’ You muttered in an injured tone.

‘Other type?’ He asked, sitting down on the bed next to you.

You ignored him at first, but he poked at your shoulder to get you to elaborate.

‘Mean skinny girls.’ You mumbled begrudgingly. ‘Not Y/N.’

‘You’re drunk. You should sleep,’ Baekhyun sighed, giving up on you.

He pulled the duvet from underneath your body to cover you with it. While he was busy tucking you in, you started sobbing.

‘Y/N? What is it, does anything hurt?’ He asked, voice growing alarmed from your sudden change of tune.

‘Why doesn’t oppa like me, though?’ You sniffled, hugging his pillow. ‘I know I’m not fun, but I like him so much…’

‘That’s just not true.’ He replied, stroking your hair gently. ‘Calm down. Sleep it off, and then we’ll talk, okay? Get comfortable, and I’ll take the couch.’

But you continued wetting his pillow with your drunken tears even more devotedly.

‘Are you gonna leave me alone? Is it because I’m not- You really don’t-’

‘Oh, Y/N…’

Baekhyun allowed you to tug him closer, basically lying down next to you. At once, you latched onto him, trading his pillow for his body without hesitation.

‘Don’t go,’ you bleated, holding onto him, head on his chest.

He sighed, arms slowly reciprocating your sudden embrace.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Y/N-ie. Oppa’s staying with you.’ He sounded reassuring, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

‘What if she comes again?’

‘No one will come.’

‘What if she does!’ You pressed.

‘Then I’ll tell her to go away. Because I like my Y/N-ie best,’ Baekhyun responded, and you could’ve only been more surprised if you were sober.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Now, go to sleep, or I’ll relocate to the couch.’

‘No!’ With how sleepy you’d become, you were protesting to the latter rather than the former.

‘Shall I count to three?’

‘I’m asleep,’ you whispered, before adding in a tiny mischievous voice. ‘Oppa-yah.’

‘Tsk. Silly.’ He hummed softly, hugging you tighter.

It was warm and secure in Baekhyun’s arms. Comfy. You’d never dozed off so quickly and so peacefully.

***

The next morning was rough. No, it was brutal.

Took you several hours to simply wake up. On the first go, you couldn’t bring yourself to even open your eyes. It was still early, and your head hurt so much… Yelping like a puppy, you sank deeper into the sheets, breathing in more of the calming scent. Somehow, it lulled you right back to sleep.

The second time around though, you did fully wake. Although not for long: only long enough to notice a cup of water and a single pill that Baekhyun had already left for you on top of the nightstand. Taking a few gulps to wash it down, you dropped back and blacked out again.

By the third time you opened your eyes, the sun was so high in the sky that you could tell even though the curtains were closed. Your head was heavy, and your mouth tasted awful, but the headache was gone. Taking your time, you looked around the room, recalling how you got into, what you realized was, Baekhyun’s bed.

You sat up cautiously, rubbing your eyes to wake fully before noticing that your fingers were turning black.

‘Ah damn, my makeup!’ You cursed, nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

It was decided on the spot that you needed to move your bones to the bathroom before Baekhyun saw you in your hungover glory.

‘You just had to end up at his house,’ you gritted at yourself, walking to the bathroom door shakily.

Locking yourself in, you evaluated your appearance in the mirror.

‘Jesus Christ. My face is enormous!’

You almost cried. Did you have to look this awful? Surely, Baekhyun took notice of your extreme swelling and panda-inspired ruined mascara and left the bed as soon as possible.

‘Don’t go.’ Yesterday’s events were gradually coming back to you, brick by brick.

Did you beg him to stay in bed with you? He must have found you laughable. How could you even look him in the eye ever again?

You washed up as thoroughly as possible. As if any amount of face rubbing could decrease its puffiness to a bearable extent. Well, at least you got the remnants of your makeup off.

Unwilling to risk running into Baekhyun like this, you decided to be an audacious guest and use the shower, too. After all, you were sure you wouldn’t leave the apartment unnoticed. This way, you’d at least postpone the inevitable.

However, your oblivion only lasted long enough for you to finish up. Because as soon as you opened the door, you were met with the person you wanted to avoid at all costs.

‘God!’ You were startled and caught off guard.

‘It’s just me,’ Baekhyun shrugged, trying to ease the tension with a joke.

‘I- I’m sorry. For the inconvenience…s. I’ll be out of your hair in a second.’

You hurried to gather your things, but his hand prevented you from taking another step.

‘Why are you always fussing around?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Unsure how to answer, you stayed silent. Baekhyun chuckled, thinking something to himself. Before you could ask what it was, he cleared his throat.

‘Let’s have breakfast. I made ramyeon; it’s great for hangovers.’

‘Uh- but-’

‘Do you have somewhere to be?’ He asked with an eye smile.

He was definitely amused. Probably because of your reprehensible performance yesterday.

‘Come on, you need to replenish your energy. Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?’

You muttered ‘no’ shyly, and he nodded.

‘Good. Let’s go then.’

While being dragged into the kitchen, you could only swear at yourself in your mind for your life choices.

‘I boiled a couple of eggs for you too. Do you want kimchi?’

You shook your head, frankly quite blown away by his forethought. He gave you a full bowl of noodles, placing the pot in the middle of the table.

‘Dig in.’

‘Thank you.’ Grabbing your chopsticks, you followed his suggestion.

Surprisingly, the ramyeon was spicy.

Slurping the noodles quickly, you realized how hungry you actually were. The bowl became empty in just a couple minutes.

‘Wow, I guess making four servings was the right choice,’ Baekhyun mused, removing the lid. ‘Have more.’

In the back of your mind, you still wondered why he made spicy ramyeon for you when he couldn’t eat spicy food that well himself.

Your second bowl went slower than the first, so you noticed how he observed you.

‘What?’ You asked, chewing on the egg.

‘Nothing,’ he smiled. ‘You’re eating well.’

You lowered your chopsticks, thinking about what he’d said. It was your first big and unhealthy meal this week, now that you were thinking of it. And maybe it was a good idea to slow down.

‘Why did you stop?’ Baekhyun asked, looking concerned.

Forcing out a small smile, you turned to him.

‘You’re right, I should cut down on it anyways.’

‘That’s not what I said,’ Baekhyun frowned, putting his chopsticks down. ‘But now I’ve come to think of it, that colleague of yours said something yesterday, too. That you drank on an empty stomach. Why?’

‘No reason,’ you mumbled, suddenly interested in the color of the broth.

He took his time inspecting your face, and you tried to ignore it.

‘Don’t tell me… Is it because of what she said?’

You dropped a chopstick you were still holding into your bowl with a loud clank, almost jumping out of your skin. How did he come to that conclusion? Were you that easy to figure out? Maybe you said something yesterday… What could that be?

‘I can literally read your thoughts on your face,’ Baekhyun sighed. ‘You really are silly, Y/N-ah…’

You pouted, saying nothing to this. Because you didn’t know what to say and also because you weren’t sure what he meant.

‘Hm. No one asked me, but… I like a girl with a healthy appetite,’ he said, tilting his head slightly to the side while his eyes kept watching you closely.

Meeting his gaze, you swallowed. The spicy ramyeon was making you sweat.

‘Makes me think she has a healthy appetite for everything. You know?’

Turning crimson, you bit down on your lower lip.

‘Now, you decide whose opinion resonates with you,’ Baekhyun added lightheartedly, returning to his meal as if nothing happened. ‘Wah, should’ve added cheese to it…’

Reluctantly, you picked up your chopsticks.

‘Can’t let it get soggy,’ you said unintelligibly.

Baekhyun gurgled out a laugh before slurping more of his noodles.

The day went by unfathomably fast since you had only finished your ‘breakfast’ in the late afternoon. Your neighbor’s hospitality made you feel at home (as usual), and you were already used to hanging out in his apartment for hours. And although you were too embarrassed to even think of looking Baekhyun in the eye, it had all cleared up somehow. He even managed to seduce you into staying for a few hours longer.

Most of that time you spent chilling on the couch, reducing his lemon ice-cream stock while he played video games. Which you enjoyed watching, actually. Despite having no clue about how to play them or what the goal was, you liked to be around when he played. He always seemed so focused and relaxed at the same time. You could tell that he was good at it, and he always made sure to win whenever you were watching.

However, by the time he was done, you noticed it was pretty late already.

‘Damn, I’m overstaying my welcome by far. You’re a perfect host,’ you chuckled sheepishly, scrambling off the couch to head to his bedroom to change back into your clothes and go home.

‘You can stay as long as you like. I don’t mind,’ Baekhyun murmured, following in your steps.

‘I can’t stay in your apartment forever, can I?’ You mused, turning to face him.

‘Can’t you?’ He deadpanned, approaching you steadily.

You searched his face in puzzlement, and he didn’t stop moving closer until there was less than half an arm’s length between your bodies.

‘What if you do?’ He asked softly, backing you into the wardrobe door. ‘You wanted oppa to stay with you yesterday. Aren’t you going to return the favor?’

He was referring to your drunken ravings, you were sure. Your cheeks heated up, and you swallowed to soothe your dry throat. Baekhyun was so close, and you had to hold yourself back to keep your hands off of him, his messy hair, broad shoulders, and loose sweats.

‘I wonder if you only said that because you were inebriated… Or…’ He trailed off, leaning on the door behind you.

‘Stop…’ You whispered, unable to withstand his slow seduction.

Baekhyun paused, a breath away from your face, and straightened up slightly, allowing more space between you.

‘… beating around the bush.’ You finished, firmer this time, and looked up at him.

There was no need to ask him to do anything. He pressed his lips to yours with zero hesitation, and you were ready to welcome his initiative. Sliding your palms up his arms, you squeezed and hugged his shoulders, using them for balance. Baekhyun’s hands pulled you closer until your body was flat against his, and you could feel the heat of his skin on yours through the fabric of your (actually, his) shirt.

He groaned into the kiss as you slipped one hand under his clothes to trace your fingers from his lower back. The muscles flexed under your touch, and you felt more pressure against your chest. He pushed you into his body firmly, and you couldn’t think of anything but how much you wanted this to be skin-to-skin contact.

Baekhyun, as if reading your mind, backed away just to allow you to roll his shirt up and get it off. Your eyes examined his bare waist greedily, memorizing each line and each mole. He interrupted you by occupying your mouth again, and you let him do as he pleased, trailing your palms down his chest. Happy to investigate, you allowed your fingers to wander around everywhere, exploring his beautiful body.

As your hands reached his lower abdomen, however, you were interrupted by the loud ringing of his phone in his pants pocket.

‘Damn it.’ He cursed under his breath, almost pissed off by the unnecessary pause. ‘Hold that thought.’

He looked at the screen and sighed, seeing that the number was unknown.

‘Yes, hello?’ He responded, voice mildly annoyed.

Someone spoke on the other end, and he frowned.

‘Who is this?’

Baekhyun fell silent for a couple seconds and then rolled his eyes.

‘How did you get my number?’

The caller’s voice was faint, but it seemed familiar… Was it that woman again?

Suddenly, you were straining your ears to hear what she was saying.

‘…couldn’t enter, and I brought dinner for us!’

She did what?!

You looked at Baekhyun, who stepped away and turned his back to you.

‘I’m not sure why you thought it was a good idea. But I did blacklist you in my apartment complex because you enjoy invading my privacy.’

At least your neighbor didn’t want her here; that was a relief. What bothered you was that he was still on the phone with her. In his bedroom, half-naked, and with you on hold. In your mind, this wasn’t at all an ideal scenario.

And tonight, you were in the mood to make it known.

So, you crawled into bed and took his shirt off, crumpling it into a ball of fabric and throwing it at his back. Baekhyun turned around, finding the item on the floor and staring at it momentarily. His eyes darted up to discover that you were in his bed, almost fully naked, with just the blanket held up to your chest covering you. His tense expression promptly changed into one of playful anticipation.

‘Um- I’m busy right now. Please go home and don’t bother me again. Bye.’

He said the last word with his knee on the bed, and you snatched his phone out of his hand as soon as he ended the call. Picking up exactly where you’d left off, you resumed kissing, only to be interrupted by the buzz of his phone on the pillow again. You growled in irritation.

‘Let me block her.’ Baekhyun said, kissing your neck while reaching for the device.

But you grabbed it first.

‘Are you desperate, or is your hearing impaired? Stop calling him.’

Ending it before she could say anything, you quickly blocked the number, switched the sound off, and got rid of his phone. Turning back, you noticed Baekhyun’s unyielding gaze.

‘What?’ You barked.

‘Nothing,’ he shook his head, seemingly holding back a smile. ‘I’m just surprised.’

‘By?’

‘How vicious you are when you’re jealous. In a sexy kind of way.’

You huffed, reasoning with him like a five-year-old would.

‘I’m not jealous! She can’t set foot in the area, and I freaking live next door.’

‘Right.’

His teasing tone made you even more determined, so you pushed him down to lie on his back, and got on top.

‘What do I need to be jealous of? I got you right here.’

‘Oh yeah, you got me good.’

Spurred on further, you narrowed your eyes at your mildly infuriating neighbor before finding his pants and ripping them off of him. Just to realize that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun wasn’t at all fazed by your brazen actions. In fact, he was noticeably aroused by them, which you could tell from the way he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Now what?’ He asked, still lying down comfortably and enjoying the show. ‘Gonna ride me raw?’

‘Yes.’ You shot out without thinking, earning an eyebrow raise from him, and settled on his thighs. ‘Gonna keep mocking me?’

‘Yes.’ He mirrored, long fingers traveling up your thighs to get a good hold of your hips and push you down slightly.

The friction between your bodies made him hiss, the thin and slightly damp fabric of your panties grazing over his bare cock.

‘Shit, Y/N.’

It was finally your turn to be smug.

‘I thought you didn’t swear in front of ladies?’

He let out a short laugh, letting you know he was onto you.

‘I actually swear a lot,’ he admitted, smirking at you as he continued. ‘When I’m angry, when I’m surprised… When I really wanna fuck Y/N.’

You dragged your hips over his in retaliation, causing him to grunt. His hands made your movements more confident and consistent, and you could feel the glide of his skin with your core as you moved back and forth. It was pleasant, but you knew it would be much better without that last layer between you.

While you were thinking it through, Baekhyun’s eyes were glued to your body. One of his hands reached for your breast to squeeze lightly, testing your sensitivity, and you put your palm on top of it to ensure he wouldn’t retract.

‘You’re so… soft,’ he stated, chest flailing. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No. My breasts aren’t overly sensitive to that type of touch. Ow!’ You instantly reacted when he pinched you.

‘Your nipples seem sensitive to me,’ he hummed, tugging you close enough to kiss your exposed nub quickly. ‘What type of touch, though… Maybe this?’

A quick lick made you whine, startled by the explosion of warmth in your lower belly. However, Baekhyun quickly caught on to your reactions, so he opted to suck your perky nipple into his mouth to fondle it gently. You shivered, fingers diving into his hair and pulling at the roots.

‘Mm, Baekhyun-n-’ He ignored your cry, tongue still swirling around the tiny area while his eyes studied your face. ‘God- damn you.’

He released it slowly, licking his sufficiently wet lips afterward.

‘Shall I move on to the other one?’ He inquired with a ghost of a smile on his face, noting how quickly he was making you disintegrate with simple petting.

‘Wait!’ You pressed on his chest to have him lie back.

The further delay seemed impossible. Reaching down, you quickly moved your panties out of the way and pressed the tip of his fully hard cock to your leaking entrance. Your fingers were instantly slick with your own arousal, and Baekhyun could only groan as he slipped inside you effortlessly. His hips jerked voluntarily, and you yelped at the intense yet welcomed sensation.

‘Sorry… Couldn’t help it.’ Your lover’s hand patted your thigh apologetically, and you shook your head.

‘Just- give me a second,’ you muttered, clenching down on him. ‘It’s been a while…’

He stroked your thigh up and down for a bit, probably reining his desires in. You could feel the twitch of his length in a tight lock of your walls.

Seeing something in your eyes, Baekhyun moved to sit up with you still in his lap. You met him halfway, finding his lips already waiting for yours. The kiss was deep and slow, accompanied by the caress of his hands on your back and waist. You were so consumed by it that you didn’t even notice when your hips started rocking.

But your hunger grew exponentially, and just minutes later the leisured pace couldn’t keep you satisfied anymore.

‘Baekhyun,’ you whined, too overwhelmed and loved-up in your chase after pleasure.

Holding on to his firm shoulders, you threw your head back. He continued pressing kisses into the damp skin of your chest, kneading your ass with one of his hands simultaneously. The position wasn’t the most convenient, but the affection you received was worth every strain on your muscles.

‘Baekhyun, please…’ You sobbed the anticipation building and slipping out of grasp again.

Somehow, he understood what your plea implied. It was time for him to take charge, and you were ready to give him the opportunity to do so.

And it seemed like he was only waiting for the opening.

Your partner was quick to fling you onto the bed. Before you knew it, your panties were on the floor, and he was between your legs, spreading them wider. His first thrust made you whimper with its steadiness and intensity, and so did the second and the third.

‘I got you, baby.’ His voice seemed lower, void of teasing now and laced with fondness and passion.

‘Mmh-’ You arched your back, thighs quivering in pleasure around his middle.

‘Fuck,’ he swore, enduring your tightness and going hard to bring you to your release as fast as possible. ‘Fuck, Y/N-ie…’

‘B-Baekhyun…’ You hiccupped while he reached the spots inside you that made your eyes roll backward. ‘I’m close…’

Your hand slipped down his sweaty back, and the pounding became so precise that you felt tears prick your eyes.

‘Mm-baby, you need to come,’ Baekhyun growled into your ear, breathing heavily. ‘You’re too fucking tight.’

Shrieking as if in pain, you clawed at his shoulder to keep him in place, still teetering on the edge of your release.

‘Ah- yes, yes,’ You cried out as he gave you his all, bottoming out each time, sweat running down his face. ‘Baekhyun!’

His hold on you became rigid while you writhed through your high. He slowed down and kept jerking his hips forward to allow you to milk every drop of your pleasure until you couldn’t take it anymore. Both of your breathing was loud and labored, and it took you some time to be fully reinstated in reality. Slowly, the sensory feedback deciphered, and you noticed how sweaty you were. It was also still slick and swollen between your legs. In fact, you seemed to all be covered in bodily fluids, but that couldn’t detract from your level of satisfaction.

‘Wow,’ you heard Baekhyun say from beside you. ‘I really risked it all for this. Hey, was it worth it?’

You blinked at him several times, brain too slow to catch his meaning.

‘Your orgasm,’ he added, snorting at your absentmindedness. ‘I barely managed to pull out on time.’

Smiling weakly at his statement, you licked your dry lips.

‘I’m glad you have so much more willpower than me…’ You flinched as he wiped his cum off your lower belly before pulling the covers over you.

‘What willpower? I’ve never had so little.’ Baekhyun hummed, moving closer to you and invading your pillow. ‘I don’t have sex without condoms. And I generally last longer, but you almost made me bust a nut before you.’

‘Oh damn, I feel special,’ you chuckled, loving how his fingers caressed your face while brushing your hair back.

‘You are, Y/N-ie,’ he murmured, leaning in and kissing you. ‘I assume round two is for later?’

‘Later??’

‘I’ll give you till morning,’ he suggested playfully.

‘I need to shower first. And rest.’

‘Why do all that when you can just come again?’

‘Stop talking like that, or I will marry you.’ You fired at him, squirming under the influence of his affectionate touching.

‘Great thinking. Then I won’t have to pull out.’

You gasped, causing him to laugh.

‘It’s alright. We’re only a bit too young to become parents. But you know, my hyung was younger than me when he became a father. That was by accident, though.’ He paused for a second. ‘Come to think of it, I’m not a big expert on pulling out, so who knows how it’s gonna-’

‘Baekhyun?’

‘Hm?’

‘Shut up.’

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, here goes!! Just another installment left to finish this mini-series, how are we feeling?? Hehe As usual, big thanks for your messages and comments, I appreciate all of the feedback from you my darlings💜💜💜

89 notes · View notes

sat0sugu-angst · 2 years

Text

Kiss & Make Up

pairing: bakugo x fem!reader

summary: you've fought with Katsuki before, but never like this.

wc: 2.2k

cw: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, katsuki calls y/n princess bc I like that shit sorry. idk yall are mean to each other and stuff but it's kinda cute at the end. not proofread so srry abt that

a/n: idk where this came from bc I normally don't like angst but i was thinking abt an ask I answered a while back that was kinda like this and I lowkey hated what I put out and needed to ~regain my honor~ plus I feel like with dating katsuki you kinda gotta prepare for fighting. I can't go full angst because that's not fun so here's what I came up with hehe. kinda hate the title but whatevs i hope yall like itttt <3

MDNI

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

The couple of tears falling down your cheeks only make you angrier as you glare at his ever present scowl. "I'm going to stay with a friend for a while. Don't even think about calling me or I'll block your ass." You grit out, lugging your two duffle bags full of random clothes and toiletries across the living room and to the front door.

He doesn’t reach out to you, like he had earlier, because that had earned him another tongue lashing. He was trying to contain his anger, but seeing you with all that crap in your arms ignited a fire in his chest. When you'd slammed the bedroom door in his face five minutes prior, he'd expected you to lock him out for an hour or two so you could cool off, not that you'd pack a bag to get away from him.

"Yeah, you fuckin' go right ahead!" He called at your retreating figure. Even though what he really wanted was to lock you in the house until you both could figured something out, he was just too fucking pissed that you were pulling away that he couldn't bring himself to cave. "Fuckin' child." He grunted under his breath.

You stop in your tracks, turn slowly, and settle an icy glare on him. He knows he shouldn't egg you on, that it would only make things worse, but he was pissed, and he wanted you to know that. "I'm the child? You haven't even been listening to anything I've said today, have you?" You seethed, and you had half a mind to drop your bags and have another screaming match, but you knew it would get you nowhere and you were too upset to be the bigger person. "Fuck you, Katsuki."

You expect more yelling, that he'd shout back at you, but you don't hear anything as you walk out of the house.

In his head, he's screaming at himself to follow you. To make you stay, because even fighting was better than you leaving. But the words die in his throat. A million things he could have said ran through his mind, but none ever made it to his lips. He wanted to go to you, to bring you home, and hold you close, and hash things out until you're not mad anymore. But by the time he was able to move, your car was long gone from the driveway.

Three days pass by in a haze. Katsuki is running through the motions, but he's barely present. And even when he is, he's at his worst. The agency is even more explosive than usual, and he knows he's being too hard on his sidekicks, that he's acting like a jackass and he hates it. Hates that he can't function without you, but even more than that, he hates that you're not gonna be there when he gets home.

The house is a complete mess. Dishes have piled up, and the bed's unmade even thought he's been falling asleep to the TV light on the living room instead of your bedroom. He can't sleep there without you, knowing you're probably crashing on someone's couch when you should be in that expensive ass bed you begged him for.

"But it's soooo comfy, Katsuki." You're pouting, looking up at him through your lashes because you know he can't resist it. "Come sit on it and see."

"It'll be an investment", "can't put a price on a good night's sleep", "just think how easy you'll fall asleep on a bed like this", all the things you'd cooed at him were ringing in his head. "Don't matter how comfy it is. S'too fuckin' pricey for a mattress, Princess." He said, trying to avoid looking at you even as he feels his resolve crumbling.

When he'd finally hung his chin and gave in, he knew it had been worth it to see your face light up, how excitedly you talked about a fuckin' mattress with your mom on the phone. It would have been idiotic if it hadn't been you, but it had been, and he felt like a million bucks taking that mattress home.

A wave of nausea hit him as he remembered the way you'd looked at him when you left him. He'd just finished dinner, a sorry excuse for one in his opinion, but all of the pans sat dirty in the sink, and he'd had few options. Now he stared at your contact in his phone, the cool light the only thing on in the living room as the natural light turned dark. He hadn't bothered to turn on the TV tonight.

He wants you back so bad his chest is tight. Fuck, he can't even think straight. But he wouldn't call, couldn't call. Even if you were bluffing about blocking him if he reached out, he was too proud to be the one to break the radio silence.

He thinks about your face again, how happy you'd been about something as mundane as a mattress. Something he couldn't care less about put that sweet, sexy, stupid fucking grin on your face. He sighed, finger hovering over the call button, but then he hears keys jingling in the lock.

He freezes, eyes shooting toward the door right when it opens. You walk in, wearing an old pair of shorts and one of your favorite t-shirts of his. You look like you're in a hurry, and then you let out a yell, jumping when seeing his hulking form on the couch. "Fuck, Katsuki, what the hell are you in the dark for?" You question, flipping the switch closest to you so the soft light from the kitchen could filter into the living room.

"You're—"

"I-I thought you'd still be at work." You said quietly.

He realizes why you'd been in a hurry, then. "They sent me home. Said I had to come back with a better attitude or something stupid." He spat, laying back and crossing his arms. "Sorry I ruined your little cat burglary." He added dryly.

He looked away from you, and you took the opportunity to study him. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, still in his hero uniform, even. You tried not to focus on the way his exposed arms showed off his rippling muscles as he crossed his arms.

"I'm just picking up more clothes. I won't be long." You said tightly. It took you a moment to realize you were waiting there for him to respond, but he didn't. You flushed, and turned on your heel to walk to your bedroom.

You were shocked to see the state it was in. In your rush to leave, you'd left a mess of clothes on the floor, and everything was still where you'd left it. Katsuki was a tidy person, and he hated nothing more than when you'd throw your clothes from the day onto the bedroom floor instead of in the bin. You couldn't imagine what he could be going through that he wouldn't at least move the clothes out of the way.

You felt embarrassed to see how you'd left the state of your room, and guilty because he was obviously not doing well. You almost wished you could go back to before the fight, even if you wouldn't be much better off. It was hard enough to talk to Katsuki; he was a commanding presence with unwavering confidence, and even well into his twenties still no volume control. But even when you worked up the balls to talk to him about things that bothered you, they had fallen on deaf ears. You felt insignificant, an afterthought, and then you couldn't take it anymore.

You exhaled, trying to steady your resolve before you went back to face him. "Could at least pick up your mess before you leave." He said, and you turned to find him watching you from the doorway.

There was something in his eyes that didn't match his words. Something softer. You briefly recalled moments when you'd be in bed and he'd come and lean against the doorframe, looking at you with that smirk that made you feel like you could rule the world.

"Whatever. Pick it up yourself if it bothers you so much." You grumbled, even though you knew it wasn't fair.

He took up the entire doorway, and you faced him, glaring up at him as if you could will him with your mind to move. Of course, he didn't budge. "Move, Katsuki."

He made a show of leaning against the doorframe, rubbing his shoulders into the wood as if it was the most comfortable thing in the world. "Nah, don't think I wanna."

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "And you say I'm the child." You mutter. He looked awfully relaxed leaning up against the door, and you were almost curious enough to see if he'd fall over if you pushed him.

"Yeah, 'cause children run from their problems." He said, though he wasn't looking at you, but the door.

You shook your head, your previous anger flaring. "Don't go there, okay? You made me leave."

He shot a glare at you. "Bullshit. I never once asked you to leave."

"What did you think would happen? You never listened to a damn thing I said, and when you did you couldn't have a serious discussion without turning it into a fight."

Now he was quiet. You thought you'd feel good about that, that you'd gotten a jab in, but it only made you feel worse.

"I didn't treat you the way I should've." He said finally. "I should've been more attentive to you. You were always there, encouraging me, giving me strength, and I didn't do enough to show you how much that meant to me. I know I could be better. I wanna be the one encouraging you, spoiling you, pushing you. I don't wanna hold you back or make you feel like you can't talk to me."

You were waiting for more, but he was quiet. You didn't know how to respond. You wanted all of that, wanted it with him, but pretty promises didn't mean anything if things just went back to the way they were. Your heart twisted in your chest, and your throat was tight. "It's a little late for that, Katsuki, don't you think?"

"I don't care. I don't want you to leave again. I want to work on this. Don't you?"

You felt tears threatening to spill over, cursing yourself for being so quick to cry all the time. "I do. I did. I..." You stopped, turning away so he couldn't read your emotions from your face. "I don't want to feel like I did again. Like I was invisible to you."

His heart was breaking looking at you. You were opinionated and mouthy when you'd met each other, sweet and giving but never afraid to tell someone off. He felt like such a prick looking at you turn from him, how your shoulders curled in on you. How had he let this happen? How could he have done this to you?

"You were never invisible to me, Y/n. Fuck, it's always been you." He reached out tentatively, hand at your elbow. You didn't pull away from him like you had last time, and he felt something like hope in his gut as he slowly turned you to face him. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel like that. I don't wanna do that anymore."

You looked up at him, and fuck you looked devastating, eyes big and shiny and he wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms and never let you go. He didn't even realize when he'd cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb softly into your skin.

"Katsuki, I just..." but you were out of all the excuses you'd prepared. You could barely think with him so close, the familiar scent of him, the soft callous on his hand, the way he looked at you like he couldn't breathe without you. And you were tired. Sleeping on your friend's couch was hard on your back, and it was always so hard to sleep without Katsuki's warmth, that you'd barely slept.

"Please, just stay home tonight. We can fight tomorrow." He breathed, finally giving in and pulling you against his chest, engulfing you in his arms.

You couldn't stop the couple of stray tears that trickled down your cheeks, but it felt good to be in his arms. No, not just good, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest.

"Fine." You said finally, trying to sound like you were doing him a favor even though you wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed in his arms. "But we're definitely fighting tomorrow."

His chest rumbled against your ear as he chuckled. "You got it, Princess."

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

a/n: tysm for reading! A little outta my comfort zone but I'm pretty pleased with what I got :) anyway lmk how you liked it! comments/rbs always appreciated

taglist: @animexholic @asmaechan

masterlist

2K notes · View notes

ofsappho · 1 year

Text

Heartless, Chapter 2

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT

Your wedding night. Tags under read more.

Tags: degradation kink, praise kink, size kink, consent negotiation, they egg each other on, gaslight gatekeep girlboss reader, pet names (whore, love, doll, good girl, pretty girl, bitch (yes this is used as a pet name I promise))

You watch the military chaplain sort through the prepared marriage license while the world’s largest butterflies do artistic gymnastics in your stomach.

Soap is the religious one out of the two of you, the Catholic one. You would’ve preferred a judge and a courthouse wedding more than this. But there was no time, and the headache of getting an American recognized by the multi-national special forces whatever-the-fuck just wasn’t worth it.

So a chaplain it is.

Soap has told you little about the soldier you’re set to marry. In his defense, he argued that there was very little to tell. Lt. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley’s personnel file is too classified for a mere civilian, and there are only two single-sided sheets of paper’s worth of information in there anyways.

The bare bones - he’s British. (Of course, he is.) He wears a mask that he never takes off. He’s served many tours, in many places. And while Johnny was remarkably diplomatic about the wording, he did caution you that Ghost’s reputation precedes him and terrifies almost everyone who hears it. With good, justified cause.

Lovely.

But the cold, crawling fingers of desperation and the memory of the times when you couldn’t afford to go to the doctor reminded you of your priorities. And so you have agreed to bind yourself to some dude with a ridiculous, overwrought moniker.

After more than a few years of dealing with medical bureaucracy, military bureaucracy is hardly a match for you. You’ve come prepared with the family accommodations application filled out. You have copies of your identifying documents, birth certificates. The basic background check completed.

Once this is done and solemnized, Soap has volunteered to run it personally to his commanding officer like a good little messenger boy. An early wedding gift, he called it.

You’ve asked him for a Keurig just to be an asshole. And whether or not he got one, for real, Soap won’t say.

All that’s left is to… well. Say the vows and hope no one looks close enough to demand ‘proof.’ Like you’re in some awful fucking medieval romance novel. It’s 2023. You refuse to relinquish any bedsheets. Gross. And they’re expensive.

Lt. Riley still has fifteen minutes before the ceremony is supposed to start.

You’re only early out of an abundance of caution and anxiety. There was only so much sitting around in your old apartment and waiting for the clock hands to move you could take, not after you spent all night packing your life into your car and then climbed out onto your roof to watch the sunrise.

The next one you see, you will be a wife.

Even though Soap refused to show you a picture of Lt. Riley, you did your best to look somewhat presentable. For the pictures. And maybe a little bit for him.

The nicest dress you own, the jewelry you always wear.

Shit. Jewelry. Ring.

“Soap. Soap. I don’t have a ring.” Oh, that’s just your fucking luck, isn’t it? You have remembered literally everything. Your potato masher, your books, and the last of your immunosuppressants are packed into a cooler filled with ice.

Other than the one thing you absolutely need.

Your friend stares at you from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean, you don’t got a ring?”

The chaplain’s going to turn and ask what’s wrong any second.

Before he notices, you grab Soap’s bicep and drag him into a corner as the last of your forced calm flees. “I don’t have a ring,” You hiss as your polished nails dig into his dress uniform.

That’s something you should thank him for after this calamity passes. At least your maid of honor is appropriately attired as if this were a real wedding. Or maybe Johnny is a matron of honor because he hasn’t been a virgin in years? Whatever.

His exasperation is less than reassuring. “Alright. Calm down. Calm down, lass. We’ll sort that out later-“ The chapel doors open, cutting him off.

Wow. You thought that Soap was kidding about the mask. That’s a mask.

A balaclava. With a skull on it. Edgy.

Oh, but he’s tall. Taller than you, taller by a couple of inches than Soap. That must really piss your friend off. He is… very tall. And heftily built.

No dress uniform. Just a black sweatshirt showing ripples of defined, bulky muscles underneath and dark wash jeans. And eye black obscures the skin around his eyes, everything his mask doesn’t cover.

It seems impractical, though you can’t deny the shiver of awe that flicks through your nerves when Lt. Ghost meets your inquisitive gaze. His irises are so dark that you can’t distinguish his pupils, leaving you with the impression of looking into twin black holes.

Do you shake his hand? Do you…

You wait for him to make the first move, and he makes no move at all.

“Hi, Lt. Riley,” You say softly, almost timidly. First impressions tend to go better when you make yourself smaller.

For a moment there, you almost think he didn’t hear you. You watch him narrow his eyes as if you’re more than what he was expecting. “License?” He asks after a painfully long awkward silence.

You shove the other papers at Soap, so you have a spare hand to find it. And if you conveniently remain deaf to his protests at being used as a shelf? That’s what maids of honor are for - whatever the bride need.

“License? Oh- uh, yeah, here.” The half-completed form crumples slightly in his hand. It’s from those bulky gloves, and you die a little inside at the sight.

When he hands it back to you with a messy, scrawled signature at all the highlighted blanks, you turn your body away to ensure he overlooks your vain efforts to smooth it out. “Just call me Ghost.”

Damn, this one wrinkle won’t come out. The chaplain will think you’re unprofessional. “Okay, Ghost,” You respond absentmindedly. He hovers in the corner of your eye like his namesake, which is annoying. It’s not as if you’re hiding a fucking bomb over here-

And you stop thinking that immediately. You know, in case they can read minds in this heavily guarded, highly secret special forces base or utilize some tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist's secret weapon. That’s mostly an inside joke you have with yourself. You leave a little room for healthy paranoia to offset the healthy humor.

The chaplain and his small glasses interrupt now that the groom has arrived, and you hand him the still-messed-up license with an embarrassed flush on your cheeks. Thankfully, he takes it without complaint. Maybe a little judgment - and then you remember you have that issue with the rings. There will be more judgment to come.

“Are you ready to begin?” The middle-aged man asks.

Ghost nods almost at the same time you do.

“We are gathered here in the presence of this witness for the purpose of uniting in matrimony Lt. Simon Riley and…”

You tune out the entirety of the cookie-cutter wedding ceremony. The chaplain goes on and on, all sorts of shit about love and forever that you know he has to say but is remarkably humorous in light of your circumstances.

Lt. Riley’s eyelashes are blonde. You couldn’t see it before, but now that you’re inches from him, you can’t look away. They’re a pale platinum blonde that stands out against his dark eyes like threads of ice, and you count each one. Fascinating.

The chaplain clears his throat, then gestures for Ghost to take your hand.

The glove stays on. But he is gentle about it, gentler than what seems natural for his movements. “Do you take Lt. Riley to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish as long as you both shall live?” That’s laying it on a bit thick, you think.”

“I do,” You say, voice low and confident.

“Do you, Lt. Riley, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish as long as you both shall live?”

Something shifts in his gaze. He tilts his head to the side and tracks the features of your face, your full mouth, and your cheekbones. “I do.” You wouldn’t even know where he was looking, had it not been for the stark whites of his eyes darting back and forth.

“The rings?” Your officiant asks.

You hear Johnny stifle a chuckle. Damn him for standing so far away; if he were closer, you’d step on his foot with your heel. “We- the rings are in the mail. They haven’t gotten here yet.” You smile winningly as you hold the chaplain’s bemused stare, practically daring him to call out your poorly-concealed lie.

Ghost hasn’t let go of your hand this whole time. Even he lets out a small huff after seeing your perfect poker face.

“I see. Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

You won't kiss him in front of everyone if he doesn’t lower his mask. As he obviously won’t, you stand on your very tippy-toes and kiss his cheek like you’re at a middle school dance.

Then it’s done, and you’re married.

Ghost pulls his hand back as if you’ve burned him, then steps away before you can ask him any questions.

Just as you try to chase him- “Congratulations, lass,” Soap exclaims, sweeping you into a hug that lifts you off the ground.

It’s got a hell of a lot more than excitement in it; you can feel his relief, and he goes as far as to kiss your forehead like a brother before letting you down.

There’s nothing on earth you can do to repay him. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.” For a moment, you’re children again—two kids against the world.

Johnny takes the license and the rest of your paperwork. “Gotta run this to Chief Laswell. But- you’ll be fine. Don’t be too scared.” You can tell he’s fucking around, but there’s an edge to his voice that you don’t love.

No person can be scarier than a hospital bill. “Worry about yourself, Johnny,” You tell him.

It takes a second for the steel in your eyes to reassure him. Eventually, he nods. “Good luck.” Then he makes his way to Ghost.

They speak in murmurs too quiet for you to hear, and you can see Soap grip his forearm tight enough to bruise. Then they come to some sort of silent consensus. Ghost’s mask gives away absolutely nothing, but your friend seems satisfied enough.

“Uh- pardon me, I’m sure Lt. Riley and yourself are eager to… celebrate the evening.” The chaplain’s acting like you and Ghost are about to start going at each other right here, right now.

That is a known stereotype for hastily-married couples, and he’s probably seen some traumatizing things in this very chapel. Either way, you coordinate a retreat into the hallway to give the poor man a break.

Ghost holds the door open for you, and you wonder what torture Soap promised to get him to do that. He doesn’t seem pleased. You’d tell him that he doesn’t need to bother, but you’re not so invested in Ghost’s immediate happiness, and that’s a lot of work.

Someone’s waiting for you in the corridor. A poor uniformed soldier has been conscripted into acting as envoy on behalf of the Special Forces, and he asks you both to follow him to your temporary quarters.

Right. Yes.

Ghost doesn’t say a word. He matches your steps with uncanny accuracy, and you’re beginning to understand why people sincerely call him by his preferred moniker. It’s fucking freaky, how quickly and efficiently he moves without any sound at all. You might even forget he was there if not for the heavy, uncomfortable weight on your back that reminds you he’s still watching.

Then the soldier rounds a corner and presents you with an open door. The lights are on, and a bouquet of fresh flowers is on the table inside with a little white card.

Your guide hightails it out as soon as you’re through the doorway.

And then Ghost closes the door behind him.

You and him. Alone. There’s no one in the other room or close enough to hear if something goes wrong.

You watch him keep himself busy, circling perimeters and learning exits and entrances, and you think… you wouldn’t mind it if something went wrong.

Reading people is something that can’t be taught, not really. You’re lucky to have come out of the womb with that ephemeral quality clutched tightly in one hand. While the mask makes it difficult, you are… learning. You are noting shifts in posture, inflections of voice, where those dark eyes linger.

You need to collect more data.

“Do I have to call you Ghost? I can’t just call you Simon?” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and the tension in the air tastes electric on your teeth. It will be a coin toss to see which way that tension goes, you think.

“Don’t say that name. ‘M not gonna repeat myself.”

You’ll do as he says because now he’s staring into your eyes without flinching. “Hm. Fine.” Which is what you wanted.

Ghost removes his gloves for a moment to fiddle with his phone, and you can’t help but stare.

He has beautiful hands. Long, thick fingers, knuckles marked with a lifetime’s worth of scar tissue, more scars wrapping themselves like cords across the backs of his hands. Beautiful.

There are tattoos blanketing his left forearm. You can’t see them from here, and you doubt you’ll get to examine them in detail sometime this century. Tattoos are so personal, and it would take words a lot tougher than a question to get through his shark skin persona.

Gloves go back on. And he’s caught you staring. You don’t give a fuck.

You relish the challenge.

Like a feral raccoon or a bored weasel, you’ll push and push and push until you’ve found something entertaining.

Does Ghost think that if he menaces you in silence long enough, you’ll scream when he says ‘boo’? How cute.

Out of nowhere, he slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You’re lookin’ at me.” You could make a snide comment about noticing the obvious, but that’s not the fight you want to pick. Yet.

You’re far more intrigued by the issue of his ghastly, ghoulish, fearsome camouflage. “Do you really, like, wear the mask all the time? Even to sleep? What about eating? You don’t care about getting crumbs all over it?” Your voice would sound genuine if you put a little more effort into it.

Silence. He knows you’re trying to pry him out into the open, and he thinks he can ignore you until you give up.

Your eyes narrow. “Oh, come on. I’m your wife now. I’m allowed to ask questions.” Those fucking icy eyelashes. Your feet move before you realize it, bringing you closer to him so you can repeatedly run the contrast in your mind.

Ghost crosses his burly arms over his chest. “Not if they’re fuckin’ annoying ones,” He snaps back.

That’s one hell of a British accent. Not a posh one; working class, probably not from London.

Like his eyes, hands, and stature, his low, raspy voice is beautiful, too. “Isn’t that what wives are for?” You bait.

You catch his eye roll and match it with a dirty glare. “Do you ever shut up?” Ghost asks, advancing so quickly that you find yourself trapped against the wall, some primal flight instinct activated by his sinuous, menacing stride.

And you’ve been asked that very same question many, many times in your life. “Um… not really,” You toss out. Smugly, like you’re winning whatever fucked-up game is brewing between you. You totally are.

Like this, you must tilt your head to meet his furious eyes. “Fuck. That’s tedious.” Obviously, this is not nearly as tedious as he complains. He’s still here.

Your eyes flick between the door and Ghost’s mask, indicating he’s free to walk away. “Oh, I’m being tedious? Look at me. Look at me. Say that again.” Under your dress, your skin feels warm. As if he’s already touching you.

Ghost takes another step forward. “You… are… being… tedious.” Close enough that his combat boots touch your fancy low heels.

Kissing someone through a mask is very stupid, both in theory and practice. Just as you thought earlier.

Somehow, some way, Ghost makes it work.

Gentleness seems to be a foreign language to him; he wraps one large hand around your jaw, pushing you against the wall, so roughly that pain radiates across your scalp, and digs his index finger and thumb in until he’s holding your mouth open.

And that’s how he kisses you. Forcing you to be exactly as still as he wants and pressing his mask over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut as if this were a real kiss. If this were a real kiss, you’d have your teeth halfway through his bottom lip by now.

Great idea. Just as Ghost moves back, you nip his mask with your teeth. Nothing serious, no real damage. Enough to teach him something about you, more important than words can say.

For only a moment, it lifts from his face. Not in any type of direction where you can see more, but the fabric stretches, and it reminds him that that’s all his mask is. Fabric. Not metal or bone.

“Nah, don’t do that,” Ghost warns before leaning in again.

Fine. This time, you dig your nails into the tiniest revealed sliver of his pale neck as you kiss him until he’s forced to pin your wrist above your head with one gloved hand.

He seeks to chastise you again, but you put a stop to that by arching into his chest instead of away.

This sets the beautiful, pristine line of your neck on display as you tilt your head just the right way. You know your angles, and you bet he probably enjoys holding fragile things in his palms before crushing them the next second.

The unmarked skin above your pulsing carotid artery sure looks fragile.

And, of course, it invites Ghost to dip his burning gaze lower.

You look good. You know you do; you know that your cleavage pops in this dress, you layer perfume to be the most memorable woman in the room, and this confidence has been insulating you all day.

He’s not immune to it. His other hand runs along your exposed collarbones before dipping between your breasts. He takes the fabric of your dress between his fingers, testing the strength of the cloth and construction.

Wait, hold on, this shit was expensive. And unless he’s going to replace it-

Ghost has been too busy staring at your boobs to notice that he’s let go of your wrist, and you pounce on the opening. You’re out of his grasp immediately before peeling the dress off. Shame is for the weak.

His appreciative groan goes straight to your nerves, to your nipples hardening under your sheer bralette and your panties beginning to stick to your skin.

All that newly exposed skin and soft curves turn the desire in his dark eyes into a ruthless hunger.

You watch him walk towards you, circle you. He checks your ass out in the most blatant way possible, so you feel the compliment more than you hear it.

You turn to look at him through lashes all dolled up with mascara and make your eyes round, doe-like - as saccharine as artificially-flavored taffy.

Even through the balaclava, Ghost grins.

“Can I help you with that?” He asks, gesturing to the flimsy metal clasp in the center of your back that holds the bra in place.

His gloved fingers trail down your spine when you sweep your hair from your shoulders. “What a gentleman.” There are dozens of other more productive things he could be doing right now to get you naked.

He coaxes a slight, involuntary shiver from your spine when he digs his fingertips into the curve of your breast, and you dread what will happen when Ghost finds all the other weak spots.

Just as you’re about to end his fun and get this bra off yourself, he undoes the clasp. “Don’t want to ruin your pretty clothes.” A harsh, jagged leather glove edge clips your skin as he does so. While it won’t make you bleed, not even close, you feel he wouldn’t care if something did.

Fuck.

Instead of dropping both arms out obediently so he can slip you out of it all at once, you have the genius idea of sticking out one arm after another.

This forces Ghost to face you as you let the bralette drop.

A flush crawls up your chest, blooming pink and flustered between your breasts. “You think I look pretty?” You ask, barely suppressing the whine from your tone. It’s a real whine, one that speaks to how badly you want this to escalate.

Someone wolf-whistling at your tits usually makes you angry enough to hit them, but Ghost’s whistle makes the blush in your skin burn brighter. “Christ,” He mutters. The bone-white teeth on his mask distort, then stretch, like he’s licking his lips.

You spent a little extra time this morning hunting down a nice pair of lace-trimmed underwear, and now you’re thrilled you bothered. “Gonna make me wait forever?”

The answer is no. He’s on you in the next second, palm flat between your collarbones as he practically shoves you towards the bare regulation mattress, the kind of thing you’d see in a college dorm.

When you land, the slight impact takes your breath away.

But then he sees your thighs pressing together, your hips shifting, and your eyelids flutter. You’re fucking melting from that force alone. “You like it mean?” He wonders, half-mocking, half-genuine.

You push yourself up on your elbows, making your tits bounce more than necessary. Just to watch him lose his train of thought again.

You’re dripping through your panties, you can feel slick arousal on your skin, and he’ll know as soon as you spread your legs. “I like it mean.” Your smile is wide and beckoning. And filled with your own intentionally-grating menace.

After all, he’s asking the wrong question.

The right question is whether he can be mean enough, whether he can touch you with enough cruelty to make you come. Already, your pussy twitches at the thought.

Something glints in his sin-dark eyes. “Good. That’s a good girl.” No, he promised you something else.

“That’s not very mean.”

You get no further warning.

He braces one muscled forearm across your chest to force you down before shoving that hand under your jaw, so your face is entirely in his control. He keeps you looking at the ceiling, and you realize it’s so he can pull his mask down.

Dammit. You try to fight it, dip your jaw to see his face, but his grip is tougher than iron and so tight that it will leave bruises on your chin.

Then you feel his teeth bite into your throat, mark after mark along the length of your neck, and it hurts. It fucking hurts, and your eyes roll back into your head, skin on fucking fire. “God, real eager, ain’t you?” Ghost hisses as you cough and struggle for breath against his hand. “Haven’t known me for twenty-four hours, and you’re already spreading your legs like a whore.”

There are lingering kisses that are just shy of gentle, long lathes of his tongue along your sweaty skin, and then there are savage bites into the side of your breast, in between them, his fingers plucking at the hardened bud of your nipple.

Your mind is empty, completely empty, as your hips grind up towards his and the thick, heavy erection you can feel through his jeans. “You do that for every man who looks at you twice?” You can hardly hear him over your squeaks of pain mixing with pleasure. Now he’s slotted a knee between your thighs, giving you something to rock your covered pussy on.

“Only for the ones who deserve it,” You get out between clenched teeth, holding back your moans, so he doesn’t get that satisfaction.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. “Fuckin’ hell.” When he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking, licking, sending jolts of pleasure through your nerves but hovering on the edge of real damage…

It takes an embarrassingly long time for you to put together a retort. “Jealous that you haven’t had a turn yet?”

“Naw, I ain’t jealous. Ain’t gotta be. I know you want me.” He punctuates his words by cruelly pressing his knee harder into your clit, wrenching a long, tortured sound from your throat.

If he keeps that up… already, something hot and vicious begins to simmer low in your stomach, a hollow ache.

Then he fucking lets up on covering you in marks to watch your face twist in rapture when he does it again. “Come on then, Lieutenant. Big, scary, mean Ghost,” You tell him breathlessly.

Again, his knee, your aching clit, you don’t wanna come all over his pants except you kind of do, and if he realizes that, he’ll make you.

His fingers pluck your nipple one last time. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ show you.” Then he shoves his mask on haphazardly, withdrawing his hands so he can pull his gloves off. “Take that shit off. Right now,” Ghost orders.

The fabric of your soaked panties rips a little in your enthusiasm to get them away from you, and you toss them in some corner without looking.

And as you hold his gaze, face flushed and dewy from his kisses, you part your legs.

Ghost is so taken by the sight of your glistening, aroused core that he has to sit back for a second and just… “Fuuuck,” He groans, eyes lidded with want.

You run a single teasing hand along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Still pretty?” Your smile is all teeth, hunger, and a promise that you don’t need him to have a good time.

He shakes his head. “I don’t fuck self-absorbed bitches,” Ghost warns. As if he isn’t literally rolling up his sleeves as he speaks. As if you can’t see his muscles strain and flex with the effort of not touching you.

His shoulders are so huge that he casts a shadow when he looks over you. “You will.” You pause to make a show out of sliding your wicked gaze down to his jeans. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to your…” Then Ghost grabs your hips before you can finish your sentence and drags you to the edge of the mattress.

You hear him sigh through his teeth. “Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. Prettiest tits, prettiest ass… Where have you been hiding?” It seems that he does, in fact, like you self-absorbed. You’ll drag more compliments from his mouth before the night is over, you swear it.

When you try to slip a leg over his shoulder before he’s ready, Ghost traps your soft thighs open and in place with his hands. “The United States of America.” Fuck. Fuck.

He strokes through your folds with two fingers, not deep enough to do anything but tease. Still, you jump as soon as you feel him brush your clit with a feather-light touch.

Ghost takes those two slick fingers and lazily holds them out in front of your mouth. “Look at me, and this is over. You hear me? I don’t give a fuck how much you whine or complain.” You take them in your mouth in a show of obedience that surprises him, eagerly lapping up your musk and the salt of his skin.

But not entirely obedient - you nip his fingertips before you pull away, and a string of saliva stretches between you. “I hear you.” Whatever. Avoiding peeking at his face is, like, the easiest thing someone could do to get eaten out.

He waits until your head is properly thrown back, and you rest a hand over your eyes, so there’s no chance you will look down.

As if remembering your reaction to his earlier mercy, Ghost takes his sweet fucking time doing everything but eat your needy, dripping cunt. Your stupid, annoying, evil husband covers the soft, plush flesh of your thighs in kisses, he licks up the arousal that’s leaked onto your skin throughout this game, he leaves more love bites in the crease of your thigh.

Asshole.

And it feels good. Of course, it feels good, and you’re already a squirming, pleading mess, holding back your sighs because you’ll be damned if he thinks you’ll fold with no effort.

When he finally licks a hot stripe through your folds, carefully sucking at your clit, your resulting moan fucking bursts out of your chest, drawn out and desperate.

You can feel him laugh against your sensitive flesh before he just…

Your hips can’t get closer if you tried, you’re caught between grinding on his face and trying to flinch away as he fucks you with his mouth, Ghost’s tongue moving with unerring precision to pour pleasure like lightning through your veins.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as he goes back and forth, licking, sucking, making your thighs tremble around his face. “Shit, shit, keep doing that, fuck-“ You beg, mouth open because it feels like you can’t breathe. The air tastes hot, like sex, like smoke and bourbon.

Ghost’s groans are barely audible over the sloppy, explicit sounds of his mouth coaxing more slick out of your core, all over his face. “You taste-“ He presses two thick fingers inside. “So fucking-“ It stings, it’s a stretch, he has to lap at your swollen clit with a delicate touch to get you to loosen up. “Good-“ Your muscles twist and spasm around his fingers, fluttering in time with each thrust.

Then he picks up the pace. “Ghost, Jesus, what the fuck are you-“ You sob, gasping as you try to get control over your body. He’s got every reaction, your vocal cords, your nerves, your needy, desperate cunt, entirely in hand.

His free hand digs into your leg, nails aimed to hurt. And like the whore you absolutely are, every time he does that, your stomach tightens further. “No need to say my name twice, love,” Ghost tells you in a voice as smooth as velvet, like he’s endlessly amused at your expense.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” You bitch before getting that knee over his muscled shoulder and dragging his hot, wet mouth towards your pussy again.

Your shriek fills the air when he bites, like really bites your thigh in revenge. “‘M busy fucking you. Come on, lemme in. Lemme find it.” His fingers-

They’re thrusting into you deeper, he slides his other hand under your hips to angle your pelvis up.

And then you feel him brush something deep inside your pussy that makes you clench as tight as a vice around his hand. “Um, fuck, I-“ Your back arches off the mattress, and you’ve got your eyes screwed shut in pleasure, your free hand flailing around as you try to just- just get everything under control…

You can’t think, can’t speak, he touches that patch of sensitive flesh inside of you, and it just wipes your brain clean, replacing everything with Ghost. “There we go. That’s it,” He coos at your helplessness, smug with the knowledge that all your bravado and rationality fail when his fingers fuck you harder, rougher.

Ghost helps you chase the orgasm gathering on the horizon, so powerful that you can feel it humming like power lines in your teeth. “Hn-“ Your moans rise and echo off the bare walls, and he drags his fingers inside you at the same time he places his mouth on your aching, swollen clit.

“Got 60 seconds to come, or I’ll stop.” It’s right there, just out of reach, like your skin is on fire and your body is so, so, so desperate for everything he can give.

Tears gather in your eyes. “No, please, don’t stop,” You beg, words garbled up with whimpers and cries, tears tracking down your sweaty cheeks.

Whenever your leg tries to hold him in place to fight off the pleasure or your core clamps down so he can’t withdraw his fingers, he fucks you harder. “Pretty girl.” Holy shit. You just need to breathe, to try and focus, but you can’t. It’s so- “Good fucking girl.”

You need to come. You need to come, you’re trying, you don’t want him to leave you like this, so much arousal pours out of your flushed, oversensitive core that it covers his wrist, and your hips begin to buck and shake. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1-“

“I- I’m coming, oh my fucking God-“ Your orgasm drags you down in a fury, pulsing hot and violent. Every muscle trembles and your whimpers reach a fever pitch. And Ghost pries at each scrap of your pleasure he can get, sucking and sucking at your flesh, and you can’t do anything. You have to let him swallow you whole.

You forget how to fucking breathe, and you’re sobbing under the hand over your face, trying to escape the sensation, but you can’t stop coming, clenching, chasing the high.

He lets you ride out the last of it on his hand, helping you through the aftershocks and gentling the pace of his tongue until you’re spent.

When that ringing sound clears from your ears, you sit up with sore stomach muscles and reach for him; mask be damned. Ghost gets the balaclava down over his nose, exposing his mouth shiny with your cum.

Your first real kiss is messy and slick, lips slipping against his and saliva going everywhere. His sticky hands tangle in your hair, and you gasp into his mouth from the sudden, sharp pain. It’s his turn to sigh when you nip at his full bottom lip, a deep, raspy sound that you could become addicted to very easily.

Your fingers slip under the edge of the mask - just where it covers his neck, and Ghost pauses for a moment, lips suspended over yours.

It takes three thundering heartbeats for him to return to kissing the air out of your lungs.

His hair feels short under your fingertips, bluntly cut to a regulation length. You’ve done it before for Soap when he first enlisted. You take your nails over the back of his neck once, then again, hard enough to make it sting.

“Bitch,” Ghost hums, and it’s the softest thing he’s said all evening. Like your teeth and claws are more impressive, more beautiful than your obedience.

Clearly, no one taught him how to behave toward a wife. “Manners.” This time, you draw a little blood from his mouth, and Ghost almost melts into a puddle in your hands.

“Let me fuck you.” He has one hand on your throat, not a chokehold so much as a loose necklace. A wedding ring on your finger couldn’t be more possessive than Ghost’s lingering, eager touch.

And when you press your forehead to his through the mask, he permits it. “I thought you just did.”

Something about his eye roll makes him seem younger. Lighter, more playful. “Let me fuck you again,” He tries. Yeah, no. You’re not a cheap date. “Turn around. Come on.” He has to do better than that.

The look on your face makes him sigh. “Don’t make me beg.”

Next time, he shouldn’t try and give you ideas. Definitely not for free. “What happened to ‘I don’t fuck self-absorbed bitches’?” You ask coyly. You could ask him for anything right now, you think, and Ghost would give it to you.

Pained, aching frustration blooms in his dark brown eyes.

“Jesus, you’re never going to drop that, are you?” Ghost is so cute like this, squirming in his own vaguely-repressed way. He answers you quickly, far more quickly than someone who’s only tolerating this would. “You were right.” The hand on your throat moves delicately across your shoulders, massaging your neck, all luxury and indulgence, a slow seduction.

His words are like music to your ears. “I usually am.” You’re a sucker for that specific compliment. And with Ghost determined to caress every inch of your skin, your arms, the dip of your waist, well…

You bat his wanting hands away and flip yourself over. It takes a little care not to tweak anything, but being on your hands and knees is better for your spine in the long run, anyway.

His large palm runs up and down the length of your back, leaving warmth wherever he goes—softening your muscles, getting you used to his presence when you can’t see him, until you’re relaxed and pliant on the bed.

Fabric rustles behind you. It’s the balaclava; he’s pulled it off and tossed it to the side. You can just see it out of the corner of your eye. “Spoilin’ me with this view, love.” Then Ghost kisses the small of your back as he kneels on the bed, covering your skin with appreciation as he makes his way up.

You can’t help your small, genuinely breathless laugh when he kisses the side of your neck. “Make this good, and you’ll see it a second time,” You promise. Then he palms one of your tits, and you grind your ass against his hard-on, so he doesn’t get too lost in the sauce.

He nips your earlobe. “I’m the best you’re gonna have.” When he withdraws, he takes all his warmth with him, leaving you cold and bereft. “Might be a tight fit, doll,” Ghost tells you as he unbuckles his jeans.

Ooh, doll. That’s a new one. You haven’t been called that before. You like it.

His fingers dip between your thighs, nudging at your clit until you’re gasping and writhing. When he works two, then three digits into your cunt, he stretches you out with brisk efficiency.

The slick sound of skin on skin - Ghost pulls his fingers from you to spread your arousal over his dick, pumping himself a few times.

“I can take you.”

One of his palms rests on your back as he carefully, so so, so carefully slips the blunt head of his cock inside. “Ohhhhh, oh fuck.” You go completely slack, cheek dropping to the mattress. He’s big. He’s fucking massive.

Ghost is hardly moving at all, and still, your pussy is trembling, desperately trying to clamp down on him, but you’re too stretched out-

He’s gasping, exhaling hard through his nose while he tries to re-adjust. The feeling of you squeezing him is unbearable.“God. My fuckin’ God. You’re-“ Ghost cuts himself off, and you hear him curse. He pulls himself out slightly, then pushes back in. “Loosen- loosen up a little. Please.” You can’t even make sense of his pleading, not when his dick is so big inside your belly that you don’t have room for thoughts.

When he plays with your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb, you feel the pleasure grow and churn and make you shake. “I- you’re so big, I can’t,” You barely succeed at getting out.

But- he rolls his hips again, and your body opens for him bit by bit. “Please. That’s it, that’s it, pretty girl. Doll. Good girl,” He chants.

And what can you do but let out an answering moan, a strung-out, needy, desperate sound for words your brain doesn’t know?

Your nails are seconds away from tearing the plastic mattress cover. God, if only- if only your cunt wasn’t stuffed so full. “Ghost… fuck, you’re splitting me in two.” He bottoms out, and he’s so deep, like he’s molding you around him. After a moment, Ghost starts fucking you in earnest.

“Holy shit, yes, right there-“ You gasp when his hard cock presses against your g-spot, your core shivering around him.

Ghost keeps at it with both hands on your hips to hold you steady. “I know. I know. I have you. I have you, love.” Your body trusts him to guide you through this - he’s sturdy and strong, and you feel every inch moving inside of you with his thrusts. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, Christ.” Sweat gathers at your hairline before tracking down your face to join the little pool of saliva below your slack, open mouth.

When he grinds into your hypersensitive, tender pussy, you shriek, his cock fucking the sounds out of your strained vocal cords. “Feels so good,” He groans in a shaken, undone voice.

Despite your fucked-out head, despite getting the best dick of your life, you find another ounce of spite you haven’t tapped into yet. “B-best you’ve ever, hngh, had?” You’re dripping around him, so soaked that the wet sounds of your cunt echo almost drown out your nonsensical, cock-drunk noises.

Ghost laughs before fucking you harder, determined to make you scream. “Yeah, best fuckin’ pussy. Best girl. Fuck. Fuck.” And just as he does that, you hear him lick his fingers before pressing them to your swollen clit.

Oh no. Oh no. Your pussy begins to tighten and twitch, and you didn’t plan for this, the pleasure sneaks up on you as you fight it, trying to keep your head above water and your body from… “I’m not gonna last, shit, you’re too good to me,” Ghost growls, relentlessly pounding into you.

Your stomach aches and screams with your orgasm, but you’re not ready yet, you need a second. You- he’s manipulating your body so keenly, you’ve never felt anything like it.

His hips snap into your ass, aiming viciously for your g-spot. “You’ll come again. Like this,” Ghost orders, then presses down on your back, so you drop your chest and cant your hips up.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can,” You confess, each sound chopped up and breathless as he fucks you harder and harder.

He keeps his fingers on your clit at the same pressure, same speed, and it feels so good that you’re going to start sobbing at any second. Your knees are about to give out, and Ghost’s thrusts get wilder, messier.

“Come. Come for me.”

You’re screeching, crying, wailing as you come. Cunt spasming on his dick, your lungs empty and howling for relief. Your hips keep pushing back towards him to chase the high. Each wave is more painful, more powerful than the next, leaving you a twitching, helpless mess.

You come so fucking hard around him that you think you were meant for this. It’s the sweetest relief, like hot fire licking through your veins. It’s all Ghost and the cock he’s breaking you open on. Your pleasure slices into your gut like a sharpened knife, and your slick covers his pants, your thighs, the bed below you.

He shoves himself into you one last, impossibly deep, painfully good time, and Ghost comes with a long, drawn-out moan as your muscles milk him. There’s a burst of warmth - except your spasming, still-orgasming pussy is packed to the brim with his cock, so you feel his come drip all over your trembling, weak legs.

When he pulls out, he slides an arm around your waist before gently lowering you to the bed. Then Ghost lays on his side so he can draw your bare, sweat-soaked back to his chest, tucking you into him. And while you’re insensible, he grabs the balaclava and shoves it over his face.

You come back to yourself in increments, your head hazy and filled with small snapshots of tenderness.

Ghost adjusts the open buckle of his belt, so it doesn’t hurt you or irritate your sensitive skin. Your hand seeks one of his blindly until he wraps his fingers around yours. He stops your shivering by unzipping his hoodie and draping it over your naked body.

Your heart rate slows to something more reasonable, and as your eyes open, you see his tattoos. He’s got your head cushioned on his shoulder, so your hair has draped itself all over his arm.

You can see monochrome shadows dancing on his muscled, scarred skin, skulls, bombs, and dog tags, all of it peeking out.

Beautiful. Edgy, scary, beautiful. “I like them,” You say as you outline a lovingly-detailed sniper’s scope with the tip of your finger.

He doesn’t laugh, he’s recovering too, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Not too shabby, eh?”

Barbed wire in that faded, blue-black color that tattoos turn with age, greyscale fire, and brimstone… “They suit you. And so does the mask.” Ghost exhales softly, air fanning out across your skin.

Then he shifts, tightens his arm around you, and brings you closer. “Thanks,” He murmurs after a long, substantial moment.

You try to banish the exhaustion creeping on you to the recesses of your mind. It makes your tongue slippery, makes the thoughts fall straight out of your head and into the world. “Yeah, no problem. Did you know that your eyelashes are blonde? I’ve been thinking about it since I first saw you.”

There are many other things you want to say, but you chew on the inside of your cheek and manage to stop them.

“Have you now?”

Aw, damn. So you did say that out loud, and he heard you. “Yeah. Yeah.” Each time you blink, you do it slower, like gravity is somehow increasing as time goes on, and you’re losing the power to resist it.

Where’d he go? “Gotta fuckin’… put some sheets on this bed. Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, love.” You poke your head up for a second and look around. No Ghost behind you, no arms cradling you.

Then you spot him by the door, shoving his keycard in his pocket. “Mmph.” You don’t lie down until he circles around and curls his palm around your cheek.

“I’ll be right back,” Ghost promises, and with his blessing, you roll over and close your eyes.

Tagging @abbiesxox @thedevillovesflowers @poohkie90 @averyyreads @lialacleaf @backupgal @kitty-satan1 @androgynoushellscape @555ilovecats @pinkwigonmytv @almightywdm @discowizard88 @castielsangelsx @jaymicrosoft @rengokulover96 @copiasratscheese @fluffysmiko @d3athtr4psworld @drugsaftersex @teenagegever2k22 @badame0224 @toilet-paper-headbands @itsrosebabe @bangirl134 @silverianni @nezukos-number1fan @deadpoetsandhoney

Idk how tag lists work so i guess just reply if u want to be added? and reply/shoot me a message if you want off!

Thank y'all so much for the support and love <3 <3 <3, the next chapter will be more smut, as well as the 141's reaction to your wedding!

One last thing - please do not ask a disabled author/person in general to disclose intimate details of their disability because you think their disability should limit them from doing something. that is very rude, and also very ableist. the only person entitled to my medical history is my doctor, and I've already had someone act entitled toward my medical history over this fic. i am super uncomfortable that i had to disclose anything at all, but i felt that if i didn't, they would pick a fight. my pinned post contains the comment i made on AO3 about this, including said details that I wish I didn't feel forced to tell people. I am not going to be responding to questions of that kind going forward. thank you.

(as always, dedicated to cuckoo <3)

602 notes · View notes

anipgarden · 11 months

Text

Supporting Your Plants for Cheap

This is my fifth post in a series I'll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps!

Once you start gardening, you’ll find a lot of things go into it, and it can be a bit daunting to think about--especially if you’re trying to keep things low-cost. Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be as hard--or as expensive--as it initially appears.

Composting

There’s several different ways to compost, any of which are helpful indirecting food waste and nutrients out of landfills and into your soil--which in and of itself can help increase biodiversity by making the space more livable for microorganisms and insects, which then cycles around to the rest of the habitat.

The classic one you see is hot composting. Most of the time, when I see hot composting set ups online, or hear people talking about them, it’s like listening to a wizard cast an intricate spell and prattle on about ratios and temperatures and special ingredients while standing over a detailed self-built setup made of the finest wood money can buy. Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be complicated. First off, there’s lots of ways to make compost bins--some can be more expensive than others, but there’s definitely options asides from buying pre-made tumblers or getting an engineering degree. I’ve seen people use metal trash cans dug into the ground, make compost pile setups out of old pallets, or just pile stuff up and leave it. While using different ratios of certain items can help them decompose faster, it’s ultimately not something you need to worry about a lot. If it can break down, it’ll break down--it just might take awhile. Composting this way can also help provide habitat--some insects like bumblebees have been known to make nests in compost heaps. In addition, it provides a robust ecosystem for decomposers like worms and other organisms, and bats and birds will be attracted to open-top piles to eat flying bugs that live off the compost. Amphibians enjoy them for humidity, warmth, and feasting on insects. Do note that sometimes snakes may also rest in and lay eggs in compost heaps, so be careful when turning them.

Do note, though, that if your compost pile looks like that you're getting roaches and rats and raccoons out of your goddamn mind. Bury the food scraps.

Personally, when I compost, I use a worm bin--they’re a fantastic option for limited space and limiting smells. I keep mine outside in a big rubbermaid tote with holes drilled into the bottom, sides, and lid. I put a layer or two of weed block on the inside, so it’s still able to drain but keeps the worms from trying to escape during rainy days. There is an initial cost of buying the worms, getting enough bedding materials, and getting a new bin if you don’t have an old one suitable for use. But with occasional feeding, it should sustain itself and provide valuable worm castings that can be used in the garden. Please do note, however, that earthworms are considered invasive in some places.

Look at that worm bin-y goodness. This is a pic of my bin, from earlier this month!

Though I’ve never done it, I’ve heard of people having good results with bokashi composting--a method that’s done in a bucket, and is relatively easy to do indoors.

Once you start a composting system, keeping it stockpiled with organic material can become pretty easy for cheap. In general, if it comes from a plant, it’s safe to use. It’s also a good idea to avoid putting already-cooked things in a pile, as salts and sauces can kill beneficial bacteria in the compost while also attracting animals. Adding meat is also generally avoided to not attract animals. But below are some things that I’ve put in my worm bin quick, easy, and cheaply; or things I’ve seen friends put in their compost piles.

Cooking scraps/snack leftovers--things like cut up bell peppers, the ends of tomatoes, strawberry tops, apple cores, watermelon rinds, coffee grounds, and orange peels are amassed somewhat quickly in my house--my dad likes to cook. Around holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas? Corn husks, potato peels, sweet potato fibers, leftover greens and other trimmings are a feast for compost piles and worm bins.

Vegetables and Stuff that went bad in the fridge/pantry--we’re constantly victims of the ‘forgot it was there’ conundrum. Fridge cleanouts are great times to decide what can be tossed to the compost--moldy bell peppers, spotty celery, questionable carrots, onion halves, old eggs, bagged salads, and stale/moldy bread have all been tossed into the pile before!

Grass clippings--though my worms don’t like grass clippings, they’re still great material for a classic hot compost set-up!

Fallen leaves--another classic addition to a hot compost pile. Some friends keep them stocked up and stored for later use.

Plant trimmings--what is plant clean up if not compost material? I’ve put cleaned-out sunflower heads and stalks in my worm bin, and they decomposed after about two months. If you get blossom end rot on your tomatoes or peppers, they’re still fair game for the bin as well!

Shredded mail--just make sure to not put in the thin plastic that covers the address section on some envelopes. Otherwise? As long as the paper isn’t glossy, it should be great for a bin or pile! Shredded paper or cardboard also makes great bedding for worm bins. Put those Amazon boxes to good use!

Pumpkins! Snag your neighbor’s halloween pumpkins in November and toss them in my compost! Last year my dad went around the cul-de-sac and nabbed all of the post-halloween pumpkins, the worms loved it.

Christmas tree needles--can’t confirm I’ve tried this, but it seems like it would work.

Mulch

Mulch is an excellent way to keep your soil moist, while also beginning and continuing to improve soil conditions as it breaks down into organic matter. You’ll have to water less, and it’ll prevent/slow down the growth of unwanted weeds (which is always the final straw to gardening for me, I get so overwhelmed I just stop going outside). Win-win situation, right? Except stepping into a Home Depot and finding mulch being sold for five dollars per square foot and knowing you have to cover a whole garden with it all can add up… pretty quickly, to say the least.

Fortunately, there are a few solutions to this, and likely from your own backyard!

Grass clippings are the first that come to mind. If you’re mowing your lawn, or have neighbors who are, collecting the clippings and spreading them over your soil is a cheap and easy option for some quick mulch. It’ll be very nitrogen-heavy, so keep that in mind, but it’ll still prevent weeds, retain moisture, and break down into organic material over the course of a few months. Do try to not use grass clippings you know are treated with pesticides, since the aim is to use this mulch to help increase your biodiversity, and having insects around plays a big role in that.

Fallen leaves are the next that comes to mind. If you’ve got a tree in your yard, or in your neighborhood, then you or someone around you knows the neverending avalanche of leaves or pine needles that drop come fall. As mentioned before, they can be used to make brush piles for creatures, or added into compost, but they have a fantastic third use as mulch. Add them on top of your beds!

Want free wood mulch? A program called Chip Drop might be the best solution for you! They team up with arborists to find cheap drop sites for shredded wood, logs, etc. that are produced as they maintain trees! If any local arborists tied to the program are operating in your area, instead of paying to dump the resulting mulch at a landfill or some other dumpside, they’ll simply dump it at your place! Now, you won’t be able to control when the mulch gets dropped--I’ve heard of people coming home from work one day to find a chip drop in their driveway. But… free mulch!

Want wood chips but not a whole truck load? If an arborist is working in your area, and you can muster the courage, its worth a shot to ask! One time someone in my neighborhood was getting a tree removed, so my Dad and I parked near their car with a tarp in the trunk, some shovels, and an old storage bin. We approached nicely and asked if we could have some chips, and they were totally cool with it! At that point, how much you get depends on how big your trunk space is, and how many times you’re willing to ferry mulch back and forth out of your car so you can go back for more. But it is an option! Alternatively, you can ask them to dump the whole load in front of your house, but at least you’ll know when and where it’s happening!

Trellises

Many plants need, or will appreciate, some kind of climbing structure. But trellises aren’t often cheap to find. To that, I say--we’ll create our own!

One popular option is to grow taller plants, and then plant climbing species are few weeks/years later so they’ll climb the taller plants! I’ve planted passion vine near a tree in my garden for it to climb, and I’ve seen people do similar concepts with sunflowers, corn, and other such plants! Sunflower stalks can provide support even after they’ve been cut back.

A combination of wood, some stakes, some nails, and some string can create a great frame trellis that can be used for beans, tomatoes, vines, etc--so I’m sure if could be put to good use for native climbers, especially since my dad’s used this structure for passion vines before. You may have to replace the string every year, but most of the time, the string is compostable anyways!

This may take a bit more setup and have a more upfront cost, but creating a trellis out of cattle panels makes a durable structure that can support all kinds of vining plants!

Of course, there’s always the easy alternative of simply letting plants climb along your fence! This is especially easy if you have a chain link fence, but wooden fences are plenty suitable for some species as well! I’ve seen passion vines do great growing along chain link fences as supports, and one of my favorite sights as a kid was always seeing bushels of trumpet vines growing up and over fences on the drive home.

Why are we worrying about trellises? Creatures are attracted to diverse landscapes with a variety of plants within them, so having a few climbers can be a great way to attract more wildlife! I know some plants in my area that pollinators are attracted to, or even rely on as host plants, are climbers that can get upwards of 15 feet tall, and will climb any surface you give them. A trellis provides you a great place to put extremely beneficial plants.

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about how different 'kinds' of plants can all be beneficial in a biodiversity standpoint. Until then, I hope this advice was helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, your success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

#biodiversity #solarpunk #gardening #outdoor gardening #composting #mulch #trellis #budget gardening #cheap gardening #ani rambles #out of queue #the biodiversity saga #i remember junior year of college me and my friends considered doing a cattle panel trellis #but then we couldn't figure out where to buy cattle panel #apparently the answer is 'tractor/farmer supply companies'#also so anyone reading these tags knows what took me 5+ years to learn #CATTLE PANEL DOESNT COME IN ROLLS IT COMES IN LENGTHS #all this time I was like 'man i wanna make a cattle panel trellis but it comes in like 40 foot lengths and i dont need that much'#and all my gardening homies were confused because theyve been getting it in lengths THIS WHOLE TIME #I WAS LOOKING AT FUCKIN ROLLED FENCING #i actually dont think any of the big box stores by me even fuckin sell cattle panel but thats beside the point #you can get it delivered though #(Delivered to the store for pickup i think)#someday i want a cattle panel trellis with like moonflowers or trumpet vine just a BURST of color and life

290 notes · View notes

zepskies · 4 months

Text

Being Human – Part 2

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Thank you for your lovely responses on Part 1!! I'm very excited to bring you the next chapter of Being Human.

Chapter Summary: You know that Alec is hiding something, and it’s more than the fact that he’s been dating another girl behind your back. [Set during 2.11]

Song Inspo: “Sailing” by Avant

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, two-timing (don’t worry), mentions of Manticore’s training (torture), hurt/comfort, mega feels, smuttishness.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: The Only Place

Alec showing up at your door unannounced isn’t anything new.

This time, however, he comes bearing a raw chicken in a plastic bag and a sack of potatoes. Your eyes go wide as you let him into your apartment.

“Where the hell did you find that,” you gesture at the chicken. In this economy, it might as well have been a five-pound lobster with a side of caviar.

Alec waggles his brows at you and flashes his familiar grin.

“Farmer’s market,” he says. “I fought some rich lady and her Pomeranian for this.”

You extend “gimme gimme” fingers at the bag as you lick your lips. You two are going to eat good tonight. You can even use the bones to make soup for the rest of the week.

Still, something niggles at the back of your mind.

“But this must’ve been so expensive. You didn’t have to do this,” you say, looking up from the bag of goods to your boyfriend’s face. He gives you an easy smile as his arm hooks around your waist.

“Don’t worry about it. I won a few pool game bets off Sketchy. Not to mention a couple of his paychecks,” Alec says.

His smirk makes you shake your head, but you wonder if he’s telling you the truth. He always seems to have cash to spare, despite the fact that he’s only been working at Jam Pony for a few months—barely making minimum wage.

Regardless, you start to prepare the chicken with what seasonings you have in your pantry while Alec peels the potatoes for you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Not for the first time, you wonder how he really lives. You’ve never been to his apartment before. Despite being friends with Max (there seems to be history there), he just got to Seattle a few months ago. And as for family, he claimed he had to leave home.

“It was what you’d call…an unstable environment,” he’d said.

That, you could understand. Your own father had died when you were fairly young. After the Pulse, a virus had swept through and ravaged your hometown in rural Massachusetts.

Unfortunately, a shortage of antibiotics at the local hospitals left your mom without much help to fight off what ailed her body. You’d spread her ashes in the Charles River, where she used to love to paddleboat with you when you were a kid.

Then, you’d packed up what little you had and left the East Coast to make a life for yourself out here, alone. The city had been a challenge for you at first, being a smalltown girl at heart, but the hustle and bustle distracted you in a way you’d needed.

Now, Seattle has become your home, for better or worse.

Alec knows all of this about you. He knows about your guilty pleasure of fried eggs, rice, and Vienna sausages: one of the ultimate struggle meals. He knows you love ice cream so much, you’d eat it for breakfast if you could.

He also knows you wanted to be a veterinarian, of all things, before the pulse. Now you have no hope or prayer of ever affording college, even if you tried.

But Alec…he still largely remains a mystery to you, no matter how deep he’s wedged himself under your skin.

“You’re really concentrating on that chicken,” Alec says, but his voice startles you, as it’s suddenly very close to your ear. You jump slightly as his arms wrap around your frame from behind.

You giggle a little, but you tilt your head to allow him access when his lips find your neck.

“Have I thanked you for this yet?” you ask. “I can’t remember the last time I had honest to God poultry…that also didn’thave a 50% chance of being radioactive.”

You feel the shape of Alec’s smile against your skin.

“No, as a matter of fact, but feel free to express your gratitude sexually,” he rejoins.

You have to laugh in earnest at that. You wash your hands in the sink before you turn in his arms and take his face gently in your hands. You bring him down to you for a sweeter kiss than he expected.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “It’s nice, having someone who thinks about me.”

His brows furrow a bit at that. He didn’t think bringing you an unexpected meal would be all that impressive, but…he also knows how long you’ve been alone.

For reasons he can’t tell you, it makes a twinge of guilt hit him behind the ribs.

All throughout dinner, and afterwards, Alec is hooked on the familiar soap opera playing on the TV in the living room. You both are sitting on the couch, but you’re half watching him, amused by his reactions. He’s absolutely glued to an episode you’ve already seen.

“You’re even more obsessed than I am,” you tease.

Alec spares you a wan look. “I just wanna know whose baby it is.”

A teasing smile forms across your face as you shift onto your knees and lean over to him, as if whispering a secret in his ear.

“And it’s actually twins,” you tease.

His expression of enrapture shifts with a wry edge.

“Twins, huh?”

That seems to take him out of his enjoyment, somehow.

You frown a little. “You okay?”

“Always,” he responds, glancing at you. He visibly lightens up, pulling you into his lap with a muttered, Come ‘ere.

You giggle at his manhandling and oblige him with a few stolen kisses.

You feel bold enough to push him back to lie on the couch, and he actually lets you. His hands find your hips while you move to straddle his. Your fingertips drift down his chest as you consider him with a tilt of your head.

“Why haven’t I ever been to your place?” you ask. You draw an imaginary pattern across his chest, grazing him with your nails. His skin prickles under his clothes, but he stares up at you and shrugs without giving into your distraction.

“What, do you live above a strip club or something?” you add, smirking.

Alec’s expression matches yours as he squeezes your hips. “I like coming to you.”

Letting out a breath through your nose, you lean down and try plying him with slow, nipping kisses down his jawline, then his neck.

“Hmm, I still think you’re evading,” you say between kisses. “Tell me. Why haven’t you invited me back to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you getting demanding,” he teases back, even though his breath hitches when you nip a bit harder, just under his ear. Your deft hands run over his chest, toying with his senses. Already the scent of the soap you use has invaded his nose, like it always does. Jasmine.

“You knew this about me,” you say against his skin. He feels the movements of your lips like an added tease.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. His smirk deepens. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like it.”

You smile. “So answer the question. Or do I have to punish you?”

Fuck, sweetheart, be my guest, Alec thinks. But he forces himself to focus on your words, reading between the lines of what you’re really fishing for.

“My place isn’t all that safe,” he says.

You snort. “Safe is relative in this city. Besides, I thought you said my apartment was questionable at best.”

“I said you needed better security.”

“You’re my security.”

Alec’s smirk returns at that. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Better than a doorman,” you joke, leaning down to him again. “You deliver right to my door.”

“You think you’re so clever,” Alec says. Your lips find his in a kiss, and they lure him back into the pull of you. How easy it would be, just to let you “catch” him. Every night. Every day.

Your arms cage his head as you finally lay down on top of him, slowly rolling your hips against his. Both of you feel his hardness twitch against your thigh. You smirk against his lips.

“And right on time,” you quip.

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You lower down and kiss him with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you mutter.

Your exasperation has reached an all-time high.

You’re really trying not to clock this bitch in the throat. When she grabs you by the hair, however, you have no choice.

Your punch lands squarely up the bridge of Marina’s nose with a crack that makes even Original Cindy wince.

You feel sick to your stomach.

Not just because your coworker and former friend Marina has stumbled to the floor, looking up at you with ire and a bloody nose. But because you just found out that you and Marina have somehow been dating the same man.

Alec had been standing off to the side with a semblance of concern behind his eyes (but mostly shock). You turn to him next, and he freezes. All the nearby Jam Pony employees watch the scene as you grasp Alec’s arm and warn him with only your eyes—it’s in his best interest to follow you to the lockers.

He acquiesces, even though his shifty eyes say he wants to bolt. Cindy’s shaking her head with a flat expression. Max is outright glaring at him. Sketchy is grinning, shoots him a thumbs up as the two of you pass by.

Alec heeds your unspoken demand, but he crosses his arms once you let go of him.

“Apparently, Marina claims you’re her boyfriend,” you accuse. You press two fingers into his chest. “Despite the fact that you’ve only been dating her for what, two weeks tops? A relief to me, since I thought we’d been dating for almost two months.”

Alec laughs nervously and rubs the back of his head. “Well, you know, we never did say that we were exclusive—”

“Did you sleep with her?” you ask.

He falters at the look on your face. So incredibly hurt, but still holding out a sliver of hope.

The longer he stays quiet, the more that too starts to dim.

You can’t help yourself. You slap him across the face.

Alec takes the hit, making it look like it actually hurt him in the way he snaps his face to the side. He’s more shocked than anything, though he knows he doesn’t have a right to be.

Your lower lip trembles, but you also gasp with a wince and hold your hand, because somehow his face felt like a slab of iron. Shit! Does he have a metal plate in his head or something?

Alec sighs. “You okay there?”

He reaches for your hand, but you back away from him.

“Don’t touch me. Never touch me again,” you say shakily, through tears.

You don’t want to admit that your heart is breaking. You fucking idiot. You should’ve known your instincts would be right about Alec McDowell.

You grab your clipboard and your forgotten backpack from the floor by your locker, and you walk away from him before your tears start to fall.

In the aftermath of the fight, Normal raises hell about the fact that Marina’s quitting. You can’t really give a shit, but you’re not about to follow suit. You’ve never, and will never let a man get between you and your money.

You take your deliveries for the morning and start on your route.

And if you have to park your bike in an alleyway to cry without the prying eyes of your coworkers, then that’s your right as a woman.

Alec hides it well, but inside, his chest aches the way his face should. He doesn’t altogether know or want to think about why.

So he worms his way into a delivery run with Max to distract himself (and to escape Jam Pony HQ). Max gives him hell, as expected, but he tries to ignore her and get this job over with so he can drink himself into a stupor at Crash tonight.

…Or try to. Getting drunk is a difficult feat with his genetics, not to mention a very expensive pastime.

Right now, he and Max are riding their bikes through the richey rich side of town, so at least it’s cleaner. Manicured hedges and tall gates surround every house here. It’s almost kind of familiar, though he’s too focused on following Max to care much.

“I mean, it’s not like I intended to date ‘em both at the same time,” he defends himself. “And then when it turned out I was dating them both at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t intend to tell both girls about the other one. …You know, eventually.”

It’s like the universe itself calls himself out on his lie when the front tire of his bike skids. He pulls to a sharp stop in front of an iron gate and falls over onto the asphalt, but his reflexes are quick, and he picks himself up with a forced spring in his step.

“But let’s be real for a moment, shall we?” he says. “I mean, suppose I did tell them. What would happen, huh? Same thing. Big fight. Lots of anger and resentment and recriminations, and then who wins? Nobody.”

Max continues to watch him with a deadpan frown. “Well, at least in this case, you won.”

“Exactly,” Alec smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His expression falls anyway. “Well, no. Seeing as though neither of them will be likely to speak to me, which makes any kind of sex a virtual impossibility…at least for a couple of days.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Clearly both of them lost their damn minds to even give you the time of day.”

Alec has a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s waylaid by a memory that used to make him smile. It now just settles heavily in his chest.

Two Months Ago...

Just then, the bartender slides you a beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you answer.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. You tense up and blush at his proximity, making his grin deepen.

Damn, she smells good, he thinks.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

He knows he’s making you nervous in a good way. He can sense it, though you eye him wryly. He means to go in for the kill, but he’s thwarted when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink, the way women do when they have their own unspoken language.

You then smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

He’s still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

He means it. Every time you turn him down, he’s genuinely disappointed.

But if you ever change your mind, he’ll be right here waiting.

That memory falters as Alec stares up at the familiar mansion. He just doesn’t remember that he’s been here before—not until he rings the doorbell. That sound dislodges a fragment in his mind.

One that makes him hide from the surveillance cameras on instinct. It has him throwing the package over the gate and grabbing Max to guide her away from the house before they’ve been able to get a signature.

And a name rings through all the clutter. A name that was once seared into his mind is wrenched open like a badly sewn wound.

Rachel.

You don’t see Alec for a few days. Which is good, because you’ve been avoiding him.

Until he finally shows up for work, and somehow, he looks off. He lacks the jovial, devil-may-care attitude he wears like a second skin.

He glances at you down the line at your locker, catching your gaze.

You still can’t bear it. You turn your head away, feeling like a coward. You hear his locker door slam loudly and he leaves without even getting his schedule from Normal.

You rest your head against the cool metal of your locker.

“Where the hell’re you going, mister!” Normal calls after his former favorite employee.

Despite your better judgment, you sigh and push away from your locker to face your boss.

“He’s got a stomach bug. Real nasty,” you call out.

Normal’s frown deepens, but his expression softens from his hardened edge.

“Oh. Well…that’s all he needed to say,” he sniffs. He hands what would’ve been Alec’s load of packages onto Sketchy, who gives him a flat look.

“Go, get to work. Bip, bip!” Normal points a finger at him, then dismissively at the door.

Sketchy rolls his eyes, but he makes sure to send you a “thankful” look before he heads out. You give him a sardonic smile. Serves him right for taking Alec’s side in this whole messy situation, like the man children they both are.

Original Cindy comes to your side and lightly bumps your hip. She’s a strong support as always, and you give her a small smile.

“Come on, boo. I’m buyin’ your drinks at Crash tonight,” she says. You loop your arm through hers.

“Thank God for you, OC,” you breathe, though with a smile that feels a little more like yourself.

“Ladies night, it is,” she snaps playfully.

And if that’s what tonight is, then you’re going to look good. No ratty jeans and boots meant for walking. After work, you dive into the depths of your closet and find an old favorite of yours: a black leather skirt and a lacey top, open-backed and a sweetheart neckline. You complete the look with a pair of heeled ankle boots and the only shade of red lipstick you own.

You just don’t count on Alec wanting a night out too.

He hangs out at Crash all the time. You can’t be surprised, you remind yourself, when you spot him at the bar. Except he doesn’t wear his usual suave confidence. No, he’s hunched over a glass of whiskey as he sits alone in front of the bartender. He doesn’t even notice you, Max, and Cindy as you guys claim your usual table in the back.

You can’t help it though. Your eyes keep drifting back to him.

Both Max and Cindy catch you, with something like sympathy on the latter’s face.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Cindy remarks. “Anguished, and all Heathcliff-like.”

She’s right, you think. He’s been like this for days.

Max seems to know him better than anyone. You turn to her in askance.

“This isn’t just because of…what happened, is it?” you say.

Max sighs and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

But she’s either unable, or unwilling to give you any more to go on.

…Goddamn it, you think, as you contemplate doing something stupid, like going over there to talk to him. You know you shouldn’t give him the time of day, but God help you, you still care about this asshole.

You heave a sigh. “I’ll be back in a few. And if not, I give you full permission to haul my ass out of this bar.”

“Don’t do it,” Cindy advises, with the tone of someone who knows you’re not going to listen.

You get up from the table and give your friends a placating hand. You roll your shoulders and force your feet to move—towards the bar.

The seat to Alec’s left is empty, and you take it. His gaze slides toward you, and he’s forced to do a double take. His familiar once-over has you almost smirking, but even that is missing something. It’s like something sucked the life right out of him.

He gives you a haphazard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me,” he says.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” you ask, gesturing at the third glass of whiskey in his hand. He glances down at it, then at nothing as his gaze travels away from you.

“Until I can’t feel the burn anymore,” he replies. Even his voice isn’t like him, dull and wry.

You hesitate, but you surprise even yourself by offering an olive branch.

“Look, if you want to talk about what happened…or anything else—” you try, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking at you again. “I should’ve made it clear from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Your heart plummets. Your mouth works past shock and fresh hurt. You fight the sting in your eyes as your mouth flattens.

“So, you and I were just casual,” you confirm. “None of it meant anything to you?”

He looks over at you and pins you there. There’s a glimmer of something behind the cool green of his eyes. Like maybe part of him wants to rebel and give you hope.

He stays quiet.

So with tears in your eyes, you close out your tab, and you leave the bar to go home. You can’t even bring yourself to look over at your friends. You’re too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Alec focuses on the contents of his glass, even though he knows nothing will ever be enough to numb him.

Now that Manticore’s psychological reprogramming has crumbled, now that he remembers what happened two years ago—and what he did—nothing will make his fractured, bloody insides feel like nothing ever again.

Max and Original Cindy see the entire scene play out from across the bar. Cindy shakes her head with a hum of disappointment that black women have perfected.

Max’s answer is to get up, with much the same reluctance as you had, albeit for different reasons.

“I know I’m gonna regret this,” she sighs.

“Take your time,” Cindy says. She already has her flirtatious eye on another woman by the pool table.

Max smiles in amusement and leaves her friend to her business. She goes to her fellow transgenic and slips into the same seat you occupied moments before. Alec barely looks up at her.

“Call me crazy but I get the feeling you’re in some kind of jam,” she says. “More than just about your messy ex situation, though that was a nice cold shoulder you gave her.”

“Okay, you’re crazy,” he replies, raising his glass back to his lips.

Max presses her luck, asking about the locket Alec has always kept. At Manticore, he’d kept it in his shoe. He’d pull it out at night and try to remember why it was important, but he never could. All he knew was that it made him feel better, and he’d go to sleep easier.

Max saw it on him days ago. And now they both know it had belonged to Rachel Barrister, daughter of Robert Barrister. The man Alec was once sent to kill.

He’d both failed and succeeded.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Max,” Alec says snidely. “Stay out of my business.”

“Fine,” she says, but part of her still worries about him. And she worries about you. “Look, I know we don’t always get along—”

“Nicely understated,” he cuts, and sets down his glass a bit too hard on the counter. The bottom of it fractures. “Barkeep!”

“But if you’re in some kind of trouble and you need my help, then you should ask now, and not when it’s too late and everything’s all messed up, like you usually do,” she says.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, Max. I really do,” he says dryly, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You know, I would, see, but…you wouldn’t understand,” Alec says. He points out that Max and the rest of her little X5 friends left Manticore (escaped) when they were kids. The truth is, she has no idea what he’s endured ever since.

Manticore cracked down on the next series of X5s like him, and every series afterwards—they all paid the price for what Manticore saw as the failure of Max’s unit. Lax training. Traitors. Deserters.

Alec didn’t see it at the time, not completely. He now knows just how deeply fucked up he was.

And is.

There’s no fixing it, like there’s no use trying to fix a broken toy.

So Max eventually walks away from him, just like you did. Just like he should have done for Rachel.

He knows he hurt you, but he also thinks it’s working out better this way. Better that you walk away from him, before he gets you hurt even worse.

It happens in stages, the way Alec’s memory unlocks.

It sorts through the psychological methods of torture and erasure Manticore used to try and scrape the Barrister assignment from his mind. Not only did it not work, but Manticore still won. No matter what he does, he can’t block out the pain or the rush of memories. He can’t not feel.

It’s a frustrating state of being for a soldier.

Alec’s laissez faire way of coasting through life after Manticore burned down was his version of stoicism, of surviving.

But if this is living, then he doesn’t want it.

That’s why he loses focus. He runs headlong into the trap his rational mind is warning him of—into that mansion, where Robert Barrister has led him with the torturous siren song of Rachel’s favorite piano sonata. The very same one he taught her, just two years ago.

Alec wants to rip the notes out of his head, but he still goes to the house.

Somehow, a fifty-five-year-old man gets the drop on Alec, a soldier. A transgenic.

Barrister knows who and what he is. He’s been in the game long enough against Manticore to know who he used to sell his products to, but he can’t quite pull the trigger on that gun, even though Alec goads him on. Shouting at him to do it. End his misery.

Rachel.

Max saves his ass again. It’s a frankly embarrassing number she’s racked up on that count, as she stuns Barrister and knocks him out before he can deliver the kill shot directly into Alec’s temporal lobe.

Alec doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care, until Robert tells him where she is, upstairs in her room. Alec travels down the familiar corridor, and he sees her again.

Rachel. Oh God…

She’s wrapped up in wires because of him; in a coma, slowly dying for the past two years. She pulled her father from the car that was meant to explode and end his life. Rachel fell.

Alec sinks down into a chair beside her bed. For a moment all he can do is stare at her pale face.

Because of him. His job. His mission, that he couldn’t complete, because he tried to save her. It was too late, she paid the price, and it was all because of him.

Because he couldn’t fight the training drilled deep into his mind. He couldn’t fight his captors, not hard enough.

She paid the price.

Alec sits at her bedside for as long as he can. He slips her locket back into her cold hand. He holds her as close as he dares, and begs for forgiveness through near-silent tears.

“I didn’t understand,” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t understand…how much I loved you.”

Alec attends Rachel’s funeral, a few weeks later. He stands almost a quarter of a mile away, but he can still hear the service. He goes to her grave, and he accepts the caustic words from her father.

“Never come back here,” Robert hisses. “I wanted to kill you. I hated you that much. But I’m still her father. I want her to be proud of me…and I don’t want to be like you.”

Alec silently accepts this. He knows what he is. Now, he knows what he’s done is unforgivable.

He also knows it’s time to let her go.

So he says a silent goodbye before he walks away from the grave and the cemetery. He intends to go home…

He doesn’t quite make it there.

Alec is forced to walk through a torrent of rain. He barely feels it beating down on his head, back, and shoulders.

Somehow, he ends up dripping wet at your apartment. His tall frame takes up your doorway when you open it to him.

This feels familiar, you think, as you take him in. Once again, you’re dressed in just your pajamas of choice: a loose shirt over a pair of shorts. Your hair is tossed into a bun.

You aren’t sure if it’s rain or tears dripping down his wet cheeks. His eyes are red enough to convince you of the latter.

“What’re you—”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is a hint unsteady.

Your mouth falls open the slightest bit, but eventually, you sigh.

“Alec,” is all you can say. Go away, are words you can’t force past your lips, even if you have every right to say them.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I uh…I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?” you repeat, your eyes widening incredulously.

He shakes his head, but he aims to leave. This was a mistake, he thinks.

You don’t know what to make of him right now. Hasn’t he hurt you enough?

He seems different though. He looks like he’s one step shy of falling apart, and you’ve never seen such rawness in his eyes.

Something inside you breaks, and you grab his wet hand before he can escape down the hall. You’re persistent in leading him inside your apartment, where it’s warm. You offer him some dry clothes he left behind last month.

After he gets changed, he sits on your couch with you. His silence is so confusing, you’re not sure what to do.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Me,” he says, chuckling humorlessly. “I’m what’s wrong. I uh…I should go.”

He gets to his feet, all twitching nervous energy, and again he tries to leave. You feel compelled to stand with him and follow him to the door.

“Wait,” you say, holding the door closed. Your hand lands on his arm, imploring with everything you have. “Alec, just tell me what the hell is going on. You’re scaring me.”

His eyes drag up your body, and slowly meet yours.

I didn’t understand…

Alec can’t help it; he raises a gentle hand to touch your cheek. You don’t deserve someone like him wrecking your life. He can’t be fixed, and he doesn’t want to break you too.

You hold his hand to your face. “Alec. Talk to me, please.”

In your face, he finds concern and the threat of tears, and his heart continues to hemorrhage.

There’s still room for you there. You’ve carved out a place in what’s left of it, without him realizing. He’s getting better at seeing the warning signs.

You let out a shaky breath. “Just tell me the truth. Are you in trouble? Are you here because you have nowhere else to go, or—”

“Honestly, yeah,” he finally admits.

You deflate in response. What the hell?!

Now you’re just about ready to push him out of your apartment and warn him that he better not come back. His grip on your arms stops you.

“This is the only place…” he continues, his jaw working. “Can’t seem to move my feet anywhere else.”

He means what he says, even if it’s not coming out right. After seeing Rachel’s prone body in her bed, coming back to face you is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And yet, there's nowhere else he could go that felt right. He meets your eyes and notices the way you’re holding your breath.

“Uh, I kinda lied to you before,” he confesses. Your brows raise at that.

“When?” you challenge.

He licks his dry lips. “At the bar. Last time we met.”

“So when you said,” you struggle to articulate it, because just the thought of it still hurts. “What you and I had…that it didn’t mean anything…”

His hands slide down from your arms, to hold your hands in his.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t know what it meant,” Alec says. “I do now.”

Your eyes flood with tears as you let go of a heavy breath. Alec releases your hands to hold your face with shaking hands. In turn, you hold his wrists steady.

"You really hurt me, you know," you say. Your voice is a near whisper, but your words cut into him all the same.

"I know," he replies, as his thumbs caress your skin. "I'm sorry about that. About everything...which is why we probably shouldn't do this."

He really says that, even as his hands drift down to your neck, where he can feel your pulse beating and picking up speed. Alive.

“What?” you ask, with genuine confusion. You pull away from him a little, frowning up at him. "Then what are we doing right now? Either you want to be with me, or you don't, Alec."

His eyes meet yours.

You’re so real, so honest. Alec starts to think, to understand that this is what lured him in. It had him coming back to you every time you turned him down. It kept him coming back to you when you were his.

She can still be yours, he thinks. It’s a selfish thought, but here he is.

So he draws you in and kisses you deeply.

He doesn’t know how this can still feel right, even though his chest pulses with pain. But maybe, being with you is a different kind of pain. Maybe it’s not pain at all.

You asked him for the truth though. He can’t give you everything, but he can give you one piece of the puzzle; perhaps the only one that matters. He parts from you, opening his eyes to find your face. Your eyes are still closed, and when you open them, you start to blush.

It almost makes him smile, but his brain is still warring with his heart.

“I’ve only ever cared about one person in my life…and I lost her,” he says. “I’m not good at this.”

“How,” you ask, a bit hesitantly. “How did you lose her?”

His throat is tight. It’s all so fresh, he doesn’t even know how he gets out the words.

“She died,” he admits.

Your expression falls, and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, holding onto his shirt. “I’ve lost people too.”

He thumbs at your cheek. He sees your sympathy so clearly across your face, though he doesn’t know how you can still give that to him. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught, and everything he’s learned in order to survive.

He can’t help but let you back in, just like you’re about to do for him.

“It’s really this simple. If you want me to forgive you, if you really want to be here, with me, exclusively…then all you have to do is stay,” you say at last. Your lips press together for a moment. “But if you play me again, Alec, I swear to God—”

“No. No swearing’s necessary,” he says, and kisses you again. He’s surprised he’s able to smile, just a little, and he does so against your lips.

You break from him to grip his shirt and glare up at him. “You understand me?”

Alec’s smile deepens a fraction. He brushes your hair away from your face.

“Indeed, I do, Miss Ma’am.”

It takes you a beat, but you roll your eyes, despite a lingering blush.

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he starts to tease. “You seem to like giving out orders, I just thought you’d like a title change to go with it.”

You slap his chest half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“See? More demands,” he quips. “I don’t know if I can work in this environment—”

You pull him down for a kiss to shut him up indefinitely.

And like it so often has, it leads into your room with the two of you falling haphazardly into your bed. He situates himself between your legs and traps you underneath him as he kisses a wet path up your neck. You arch against him and your hands dive under his shirt to help him wrench it off.

It’s all very fast, and a bit frantic until he has you naked underneath him.

His hand finds your cheek, touching softly, like he’s afraid to break you. There’s pain in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Your brows furrow, though you caress a hand up the back his neck. He shudders when you unintentionally brush his barcode.

“Alec, what happened?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He wishes he could tell you. He wants to tell you…everything. It scares him, because he also wants to run out of here, putting as much distance between himself and you as possible.

But again, he’s selfish. This time, he understands why his heart is pulsing with both pain and longing when he stares into your eyes for too long.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not tonight… Can we just focus on the good part here?”

Despite yourself, you smile with a small huff. You take his face in your hands and bring him down to meet your searing kiss.

The good part, indeed.

AN: And here's an angsty Part 2! lol Let me know what you think! 💜

You might want to buckle up for where we're going next...

Next Time:

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your face.

He smiles, taking down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease. He laughs against your skin.

“You’re about to find out.”

Keep Reading: Part 3

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions

#The Only Place #Being Human #Part 2 #alec mcdowell #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you #alec mcdowell x female reader #smuttish #max guevara #original cindy #DA 2.11 #the barrisford agenda #Dark Angel #Jensen Ackles characters #Jensen Ackles #zepskies writes

110 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 8 months

Text

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

We'll Call It Love Masterlist | song inspiration

7.1k words | 18+ NSFW

A/N: While this takes place in the middle of the series (a moment in time during Part 2: Cutie), I think it's actually kind of fun to read this after the first three chapters, little easter eggs and what not. I hope you enjoy this and thanks for your patience in waiting for this story! Part 4, 5 and the Epilogue are coming soon! 💛

Warnings: This story takes place in the middle of chapter two to my series "We'll Call It Love" linked above. | modern!steve | reader and steve drink wine | descriptions of wearing some of Steve's clothes, but size is not talked about | Reader likes sunsets, spiderman, and she never finished her college degree | SMUT (PIV unprotected intercourse) / public (on Steve's balcony - you are semi-caught)

The alarm didn’t go off on time, your shampoo got in your eyes, the toast was burnt, and your pantyhose and skirt were too tight - you don’t even want to start on the heels and the blister forming because of them. Not even the worst of it, because of course your boss yells at you in front of everyone, you spilt coffee on important documents, spent hours transcribing them, only for your boss to say she didn’t need them and watched as they landed inside the trash can as your soul left your body. Security lights and the glowing fish tank in the front room are your only company for the last two hours of your day as you fix mistakes and make calls, willing the bad day to just be over already.

Where you end up after a day like this doesn’t matter - it doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with reading the text from him asking if you’d like to come over and tell him more about it when you’ve already started driving there.

It’s not like you’re wanting the comfort this sort of gesture implies. No, it’s just a distraction, an attempt to salvage this horrible day with one thing - sex. Just ‘turn your brain off and let him help you forget the day’ sex. That’s all.

And it’s not like it’s a crime that the sight of Steve at the end of his hallway holding a very full glass of wine out for you makes your chest ache a little - you’ve had a bad fucking day, of course something like that makes you a little mushy. It doesn’t mean anything when your mouth splits into a grin to mirror his when he sees you.

Steve leans against his doorframe, his perfectly gelled and sprayed caramel locks set free from their styled position they’ve been trapped in all day. One hand scratches at his jaw, the dark scruff underneath at the length you won’t admit to him is your favorite. A navy dress shirt stretches across his shoulders, sleeves cuffed and rolled up his forearms. A few of the buttons are already undone, revealing a black undershirt, all tucked into his belt and gray slacks with perfect ironed creases. His feet cross as he leans back, the gold line across the black fabric reminding you that most likely, just his socks cost more than your whole outfit combined.

“So, rough day?” He extends the glass further towards you, the silver metal of his watch glinting in the soft hallway lighting. Taking the glass from him, you gulp down half of it far too quickly for what you’re sure is an expensive bottle of wine, brushing past him into the apartment.

“You have no idea,” swallowing another large gulp before answering. A sigh meeting a groan leaves you as your bag drops to the ground loudly. You kick off the heels you really should just throw out - well past their worn in phase and still giving you trouble.

“Actually,” Steve laughs as he locks the door behind him, “I do. You sort of texted me a live play-by-play all day.”

Your hand waves off the statement, ignoring the truth of it with a hum around another sip of wine. Steve starts to walk around you, his hand brushing your lower back. Blunt ends of his fingernails scratch softly through the thin fabric of your blouse as your senses tune into the altered state of his apartment. The lighting more dim than usual, overhead lights turned down to a muted glow, aided by the warmth of candles flickering on his island and in the living room. Music drifts quietly and lazily out of speakers and through the air - music you like - mingling with something that smells so good your mouth waters a little.

The glass of wine pauses before meeting your lips again as you watch Steve pick up a knife. He chops the last part of something green and leafy, brushing the food off the wood cutting board with the back of his knife into a pan that sizzles. Garlic and onion and something herby meet your nose, drawing your bottom lip to pull under your teeth. Or maybe it’s the way Steve stares at the pan with concentration, humming along to the music you only just introduced him to. He stirs the ingredients, forearm flexing as he turns the handle of the pan to the side, knocking the wooden spoon against the lip of metal a few times.

“You cook?” Questioning him quietly from your spot by the door.

Steve looks over his shoulder, a fake frown pulling his lips down that a smile tries to fight. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Not surprised,” you hedge, padding over towards him slowly, “Just…impressed. I don’t know if anyone has cooked for me before.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows bunching together, whatever thoughts swirling inside his brain cut off when you kiss his cheek. Steve blinks at the gesture as you wave your hand over his apartment and ask, “You did all this ‘cause I had a bad day, Harrington?”

Steve’s cheeks turn rosy despite his eye roll and laugh around a mumbled, “It’s just spaghetti.”

“Well,” you smile, noting the simple kiss and its effects for future use. Eager and curious to find out what else you can do and say to get him to blush so you can use it to your advantage, “Big fan of just spaghetti here. Thank you.”

Your wine glass hits the counter with a soft clink as your hand wraps around his bicep and squeezes, smirking as his cheeks turn a deeper pink.

When you face him fully, Steve is already watching you, eyes tracing over your face when his lips twitch up on one side - you pushed it too far and now he’s onto you. This sort of teasing and battle for who can make the other squirm more has been the fire that’s fueled your last few nights together.

Steve leans in slowly, his hand reaching up and cupping your jaw as he does. His thumb traces over the apple of your cheek, his warm breath hits your lips as your eyelashes flutter. Steve’s voice turns gruff and deeper because he knows it works you up as he asks, “You sleeping over tonight?”

Your head shakes despite wanting to nod as his other hand finds your waist. The smell of dinner and Steve’s spice and woodsy cologne making you dizzy as you try to stay steady in your response, “Can’t. Didn’t bring any clothes.”

Steve hums, the sound buzzing into your skin as his nose brushes up yours slowly. His hand on your waist pulls you in closer, wrapping around and pressing his palm to your lower back. His breath out mixes with yours in as your hands move on their own accord, climbing up his chest and to the collar of his shirt. His eyes a dark forest and liquid gold, smoldering as his gaze meets yours.

“I’ll order you clothes for tomorrow.”

The ease and confidence of his promise is enough to make your stomach flip with excitement, but your eyes roll from the absurdity. Your laugh, a mixture of disbelieving and amused, is cut off though when his top lip parts yours. A soft kiss pressed to them that he quickly deepens when he feels you sigh, giving in easily.

Sweet and tender kisses, his thumb and fingers tilt your jaw for him, making butterflies flutter alive inside of you. Steve and you haven’t kissed like this before, you can feel each shift of his fingers on your jaw and back, how his forehead furrows against yours. Mouths that mold to the others easily, slotted together like gears that work with each other instead of against now. You move with the other like second nature, almost lazy, not worried about the end goal for once, enjoying the taste of his whiskey hitting your wine with each pass of tongues and lips meeting. Until his bottom lip catches your top one in a different way, tongue rolling against yours a little dirty, making your thighs push together.

Steve’s breath through his nose hits your cheek and your fingers grip at his collar, tugging him closer to you while his hand on your back pushes you against him harder. Soft kisses no longer, now you’re just desperate. His tongue traces your bottom lip, nipping at it gently before sucking on it. Your hands push up his neck and into his hair, fingers combing through the strands and tugging lightly as he takes a breath. It’s all so easy, the push and pull with each other, learning and using what the other likes. A whimper escapes you as his hands move to cup your face, slowing you both down, until he’s pulling away completely.

Your eyes blink rapidly as you come back to the room, forgetting where you were for a brief moment. As his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, the sight of his eyes taken over by his pupils makes your spine radiate with heat. His fingers curl under your jaw with a firm grip on your chin as he gives you one more chaste peck.

“Stay.”

The word is one you can’t help but chase, turning towards his lips again in search for more. Your kiss meets the corner of his mouth that threatens to smile - you hate that he’s winning.

“Fine. But only because this wine is really good and I intend to drink the whole bottle.”

Steve’s smile kisses your skin, mouth brushing down your neck in a tantalizing graze, the scruff on his face tickling as he moves lower. “Of course. No other reason, I understand.”

He presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear and your eyes practically roll all the way back, toes scrunching against the tile of his kitchen floor as your breath gets caught in your chest. Steve clocks the spot and your reaction, a low rumble from deep in his own chest as he mouths at your neck, returning to his new toy he’s found when you gasp. Wet lips and warm breath pull goosebumps to the surface of your skin, and his nose nudging behind your ear has your entire body on fire.

Your hands push at his shoulders with a nervous laugh, forcing it all to slow down so you can regain some sort of composure and have a chance at beating him at this game.

“Okay, okay, I need a shower. How long till dinner is ready?”

Steve blinks at your words, hand in his hair roughing it up more as he clears his throat and stares down at your body still pressed to his, pretending not to be just as worked up as you are. “Uh, yeah, yes. Like twenty minutes.”

Pressing a quick teasing kiss to his mouth, you start to back away and he follows, hands wrapping around and clasping behind your back with a grin that says nice try.

“Steve,” his name a laugh on your lips as he dips down to your neck again, attacking it with frantic kisses.

“Hmm?” His teeth drag on your earlobe and he smiles against your jaw as you shiver.

“Just…” your words trail off as he starts to suck a bruise into the spot he just found, causing your eyelashes to flutter. His mouth presses another hot and wet kiss to your skin, tongue swirling and soothing the darkening mark. His hands roam up your back as you arch for him.

It’s your turn to blink again as he stops abruptly, giving you a kiss on your nose before spinning you towards his room. “Go shower already, you stink.” He gives your ass a light pat and nudge forward.

Your eye roll is hidden, but your hands press to your cheeks in an effort to calm down as you walk away. You did come here for sex, maybe you can let him win tonight.

Steve’s shower is far nicer than your own. The rain head allows the warm water to flow down your entire body smoothly, and as you let your head fall back into the stream, you wonder about the detachable nozzle and how easily you could convince him to come in here and try something. The steam and calming scent of Steve’s cedar and mint shampoo is enough to unfurl your muscles and soothe your frazzled nerves that his kissing had already started to ease. Because it was the kissing and this game you play that relieved the tension inside of you, not just the company.

The same music in his living room plays from small speakers in his bathroom too, your favorite song coming on not too long after you’ve started the shower, echoing off the dark blue tiles, the ping of water harmonizing with it. A smile twitches on your lips when you hear the added sound of the door creaking open.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Your palm swipes over the glass door, clearing condensation enough to see Steve. His back is to you as he sets a new glass of wine and a fluffy gray towel on his counter.

“Actually,” he spins, eyes roaming over your naked form he can still catch a glimpse of through the foggy glass. His eyes sparkle as his tongue licks over his top lip, “Just getting your clothes in the washing machine.”

Your shoulders lift to your ears, stomach doing some sort of seesaw thing at the domestic and far too intimate of an act. Your voice is soft and hesitant, almost drowned out by the water, “Steve, you don’t-”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” he backs out the open door, pulling it closed as he gestures around the air, “The music. So loud.”

Your eyes roll again, a smile teasing at your lips as the door shuts with a soft click. A furrow forms between your brows though, deepening as you finish your shower. Your lip gnawed between your teeth as you turn the handle off, worrying that maybe you’re getting too comfortable here.

When you step out of the shower and wrap the still warm from the dryer towel - a sweet touch from Steve - around yourself, the smile you were fighting earlier wins. The sight of Steve’s ‘Hi’ and smiley face in the fog on the mirror is too cute of a distraction to listen to any sort of logic.

Stepping out of the bathroom, wine in hand, the smell of garlic now mixes with tomato, slipping in through the cracked bedroom door. Steve’s voice trails in quietly with it, “Hi, mom.”

You freeze, eyes widening in horror as this doesn’t seem like the greatest way to meet a Harrington parent - not that you thought about that, or want to, but as a friend of Steve’s you should probably have more clothes on. Your shoulders relax when you don’t hear a new voice responding, but Steve’s sigh and his voice again, only far less enthusiastic, “Oh, hey dad.”

Evidence of your eavesdropping forms in water dripping down your body and darkening his carpet, so, you pad into Steve’s closet, flicking the light on as you go. It’s not the first time you’ve seen the walk-in, but the sight of it still manages to steal the air out of your lungs a little.

An overwhelming amount of the dark clothing Steve so often wears hangs meticulously in order of style and color. Blues and grays, a few deeper greens you wish he’d wear more, creams, browns, and white, then black. T-shirts then polos then button-downs - simple and nothing that would make anyone take a second glance, but you know from your own fingers that the quality of the material of each item is better than your sheets.

Your fingertips drift lazily over the garments as you take the opportunity to linger in the space a little longer. They meet the hard edge of a dark wood dresser, a suede, gray box sitting atop. It’s compartments holding ties that are perfectly rolled and tucked into their homes. A matching organizer that holds a high school class ring, two watches - one gold and one with a dark and worn, brown leather band - along with a missing spot for the one he’s wearing. You’re certain that if you opened the drawers of this dresser you’d find his underwear and socks of the softest thread count folded and organized just as nicely - not thrown in haphazardly like your own.

As you turn to head back for a plain t-shirt, the bright color tucked into the back corner catches your eye. It’s so different from anything in the room, from anything you’ve seen him wear. Your bare feet sink into the plush rug as you make your way to the part of the closet that looks like it doesn’t belong.

Another small dresser, almost a nightstand, sits over here. You check over your shoulder, Steve’s voice still drifting through the door quietly and you continue inspecting. On top of the dark wood, two CD’s with Robin’s familiar hand-writing listing the songs adorning each disk. A diploma and tassel hanging from the dark frame holding it. Next to that, another framed item, an image of Steve that makes your chest tighten. You don’t think he’s too much younger than he is now in it, a dark blue graduation gown open to reveal jeans and a white button down and black tie, his grad cap squishes down his hair. Steve is shrinking in the picture, cheeks pink and biting his mouth to hide a smile, as Robin and a curly haired boy are both exploding bottles of champagne on opposite sides of him.

Above the nightstand, the clothes are even more unfamiliar. Jeans that, though folded just as nicely as others in the closet, are a lighter wash and look well loved and worn, not like the dark denim with creases you’re used to seeing him in. Several t-shirts with various concert and event logos now fading and peeling, hang in color order again. A few sweatshirts, one with the same green and orange you know matches Robin’s band sweatshirt she says she’ll die in, sit folded next to the jeans. There’s several sweaters hung, but the culprit of your detour stands out the most. Your fingers rest on it, and as you remove it from the hanger, you’re sure something he must not wear anymore fits your needs tonight more than any of his nicer items.

It’s not until you walk back out to the kitchen in the bright yellow sweater and a pair of his sweatpants that you think you potentially overstepped.

Steve stands at the stove, phone pressed to his ear still, the other hovers over the pot, spoon dripping sauce as his mouth falls open. The tips of his ears turn red, matching his cheeks as you fiddle with the hem. His voice faltering into the phone, “Ye-yeah. Yes. I am dad, tonight just wasn’t gonna work.”

He smiles sadly at you, shrugging as he turns his back from the stove, maroon turning to pink on his cheeks. His hand reaches up and runs through his hair as he starts pacing.

“Uh-huh, yeah, but-” Steve’s mouth clamps shut when he’s obviously interrupted on the other end.

You begin stirring the sauce when you see it’s bubbling, Steve squeezes your shoulder as he passes, moving his pacing to the living room. He’s changed as well, down to just the black undershirt and dark gray sweats, the orange and yellow candle light flickers across his jaw as it tightens. He picks up a baseball from the wood buffet, fingers curling around it as his thumb spins it in his palm.

When you glance up, his eyes travel over your body until they meet yours, sighing into the phone as he switches ears again, “Dad, I have to go, can we talk about it a different night?”

His shoulders slump, the baseball returning to the console, rolling across the top until it hits a framed photo. This one of Robin on Steve’s shoulders, pushing his hat down over his face as she tries to climb higher for an apple in a tree.

Steve stares out the balcony glass doors, his voice strained, “I am, dad, I promise, okay? I just need a little time.” He nods once, “Mhm, bye.”

The phone lands on the counter harshly as he returns, his hand reaching for the wine glass you’re already offering to him. He gulps half of it down, not unsimilar to how you did when you first arrived.

“So, that was your dad?” Your eyebrows raise as your gaze remains on the sauce.

“Uh-huh,” he draws it out, sighing again as his forehead falls to your shoulder.

“Can I ask what all that was about?” You question softly.

Steve’s head lifts, suddenly focused on pouring a second glass of wine and refilling the other as he speaks, “You could,” he turns to one of the cabinets, searching for plates, “But it’s complicated and in my opinion, a waste of one of your questions.”

“Oh really?”

Steve spins, wincing as he faces you again and holds up two fingers, “Ooh, that’s two.” He pulls at his collar and raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

“Nice try,” you steal a plate from him and begin dishing up, “Not eating spaghetti topless for you tonight, Harrington.”

“Oh, but you will some other night?” He smirks, standing next to you.

“In your dreams,” you laugh, turning to the stove again.

He sighs, long and big, “Only every night,” your snort is cut off as he keeps going, “But actually, speaking of clothes,” he spoons his own pasta onto his plate, “Went into the depths of mine I see.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem again, recalling his face when you first came out, mood sobering. “The color caught my eye, I’ve never seen you wear this. I can take if off though, if-”

“No,” he says quickly, with a harsh swallow he adds on quietly, “Looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” dipping your head from the way he looks at you when he says it. Like he really means it and wants to see you in it more than tonight.

Steve leans in, his hands full, so he nudges your temple with his nose until you look up at him. He presses a slower kiss than earlier to your lips, lingering for a moment before clearing his throat and pulling away. He nods his head towards the glass doors “Wanna eat on the balcony? Sunset is soon, and I thought it might be a good ending to the bad day?”

Your chest floods with warmth, something sticky and heavy that makes your mouth unable to work, holding all of your words hostage so all you can do is nod. Steve smiles and heads outside.

“Mint chocolate chip,” he answers immediately, taking a sip of wine.

You’re done with dinner, tucked into his small balcony couch, the sunset has now faded from that early golden glow, tinges of orange and bursts of pink starting to break through the clouds and paint the buildings around you. Steve's legs extend to the small ottoman, yours against his thigh so you can really watch the sky. More than ten questions have been asked, but your clothes are still on, and part of you wants to admit that maybe this is actually what you needed tonight instead of sex. Maybe you just needed to have dinner, talk to a friend, enjoy the sunset. It doesn’t matter that it happened with Steve - the whole point of this was to be friends with benefits, right?

You laugh into your wine glass, “Wow, I so did not peg you as a mint chocolate chip ice cream guy.”

He grabs your ankle, tugging it lightly, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Your shoulders lift in an innocent shrug, “I dunno, you seem kind of vanilla, Steve.”

His eyes narrow and he scoffs, grumbling into his wine glass, “Vanilla. I’ll show you vanilla.”

“What was that?” You grin.

He rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing your empty plates. “I said, more wine?”

“Sure you did,” you nod, faux belief on your face as you hand up your glass as he passes.

After the door latches, you pull the sleeves of his sweater down over your palms, standing and moving closer to the ledge. You’ll always love sunsets, but this view has changed them forever for you. The orange and pinks bleed together now, like two tubes of paint exploded across the sky, a perfect summer sunset. Its shimmering reflections in the lake, river, and buildings around you try to steal your breath too - almost as beautiful as the real thing.

The city below you buzzes with summer nightlife, horns honking and bass thumping as people drive by. One of those Chicago tour boats drifts lazily by and you smirk, remembering the unfortunate yet hilarious story Robin told you about the Dave Matthews bus - so opposite of the moment you’re witnessing now. As the tour passes under the bridge you notice the couple standing in the middle, holding hands. One of them drops lower, and from the way they jump back up and spin around, holding each other, you’re certain you just witnessed a proposal.

Steve’s shoulder presses against yours and you jump, hand over your chest.

“Sorry,” he motions behind him, “Thought you heard the door.”

Your heartbeat rapidly pounding in your chest, you glance back to the bridge, but the happy couple is already gone. Shaking your head, you close your eyes, “No, uh, was distracted I guess.”

He eyes you curiously, fingers brushing down your arm, with a smile, “Alright, you asked me the ice cream question, so my turn.”

He spins, finger in the air when the question comes to him, “Favorite superhero?”

“Spiderman,” your answer just as confident and quick as his ice cream response.

“Interesting,” he rubs at his jaw, “Why?”

Your shoulders shrug as you watch another boat tour go by. The words on the tip of your tongue before your brain fully catches up to them. “Um, I’m not really sure. I guess I always loved that he was kind of alone, but not really. Spiderman was lonely, protecting people he loved who didn’t know he did, but Peter was almost the opposite? He wasn’t ever fully alone despite thinking he was. He was always loved, he was just the one who didn’t see it.”

You don’t realize the power of your answer until it leaves your lips. A small piece of weight you carry lifting easily for Steve like it’s nothing. It’s almost immediate that you wish you hadn’t answered.

Steve smiles sadly at you, his fingers pushing against the railing and bumping yours as he speaks softly, “That’s a good reason, sounds like you relate to it?”

Your cheek pulls in and you shrug again, clearing your throat and ignoring his prodding. “What about you? Got a favorite superhero?”

Lately, whatever question either of you had come up with ended up being answered by both of you, the conversation flowing that way naturally, so your sidestep of his followup questions isn’t completely out of the ordinary.

Steve’s hazel eyes bounce between yours, and you know he wants to push it further, to get you talking more, but he doesn’t. He stands up straighter and nods, “Definitely Batman.”

You groan and laugh, shaking your head as he puts his hands on his hips and asks, “What?”

“You would like Batman. He’s not even a real superhero, he’s just rich. He has no powers.”

He points his finger in the air, “First of all, you’re wrong. Second, pretty sure some of the Spiderman comics it’s like the exact same fucking thing, so. And third, I have a good reason why I like him so,” he sticks out his tongue at you.

Your hands fall out, palms facing upward expectantly and he rolls his eyes, ripping at the skin on thumb. “I, well. I think him being an orphan is interesting. I like that he’s seen as a guardian. I don’t know, a lot of reasons…” his voice trails off as a furrow forms between his brows.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You nudge his shoulder, grabbing the wine from him and taking a sip. Both of you touching a sensitive spot in each other with something as simple as superheroes.

He smiles and nods, eyes focused on the House of Blues lighting up below you.

Your own eyes watch the pink take over the orange in the sky as you drum your hands on the railing, risking a more serious question despite the mood. “I saw that picture, in your closet? Was that a college graduation? It seemed recent?”

Steve blows his breath out, sipping the wine he takes back from you, sharing the same glass as he nods. He clasps his hands together after you steal it back and stares out at the lake. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t get in, back when Robs went. But,” he licks his lips and squints, “I dunno, got this job from my dad’s connections and I just…wanted to see if I could do it alone? So I did. Sports management. Not a big deal.”

Your hand reaches out to his forearm and squeezes gently. “Steve, that is a big deal. That’s really great.”

He hums and shrugs and you press it even further, “So your parents don’t know? And your job now, that’s not-”

He laughs and drags his hands down his face, “Really, it’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t have even printed that photo. And, and the job, I don’t know. There’s this opportunity this one guy at work told me about, but my parents…” he sighs and his shoulders drop. “No, they don’t know. And my job is great. I don’t need to do anything else.”

You turn and set the wine down, your fingers wrap around his wrist. “Steve, you should have a job you love. Screw your parents or anyone who tells you differently. There’s always a way to figure it out if you want it badly enough. And, it is a big deal. I didn’t finish college. It’s a really cool and amazing thing, you should be really proud about it.”

Steve smiles, tapping the railing, speaking softly, “Thank you.” He turns to face you, hand brushing up your arm to your shoulder. “I didn’t know that about you. The college stuff I mean.��

Stepping closer to him, you shrug. “It’s not like I introduce myself and tell people that, Steve.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” He takes a step closer too, closing the distance completely so your bodies press together. He smiles, tone lightening the mood, “I’d take off my pants in honor of the information, but I don’t have underwear on and we’re sort of exposed out here.”

Your eyes roll again as your lips fight a smile. He leans in closer, nose bumping yours as you whisper, “Wow. What a slut.”

He smirks. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

Your breath catches in your chest at the quote, his lips pressing to yours softly before you ask, “Wh-what did you say?”

His cheeks turn pink like earlier and he clears his throat, “Uh, I meant like, takes one to know one. Like a slut.” His eyes close and he holds up his hands, “Not that you’re a slut, what I meant was that, see…like in a good way.”

Your heartbeat starts to return to normal and you shake your head, ignoring the connection the quote made inside of you. Interrupting his Robin-like rambling and hoping to get the original plan for the evening back on track with a kiss.

Steves reciprocates quickly, tongue licking at the seam of your lips as you open up for him. Something about the gestures he’s made to fix your bad day tonight, the conversation you just had, has you more desperate than you were originally when you came over tonight. It’s all too complicated and jumbled now, and you just need your brain to turn off, and sex is the way to do that.

His hand cups your jaw, opening you wider for him as he presses you back into the stone barrier between apartments. He rolls his hips against you, pushing harder when your hands wrap around his neck. Your clasped hands hold yourself up as his hand reaches for your thigh, pulling it up and around his waist, fingernails dragging back up and cupping your ass. Your hands move down his back as he slows his kissing again, teasing his tongue against your top lip. Nails scratch through his shirt as he moves his assault to your neck. Your body pulses around him as the sun sinks lower behind you. Steve holds your chin with his fingers as he says, “Turn around, pretty girl, you’re missing the sunset.”

Your eyes blink wide and slow at his words as he removes your leg from his waist, spinning you towards the railing. The rapid beat of your heart returns as his hands rest on either side of your body and he presses his easily felt erection into your backside.

Steve’s nose brushes up the back of your neck, his mouth kissing across your skin till he meets your ear. His fingers glide across the band of the sweats, curling around your hip until he pushes under the fabric.

He huffs into your skin, kissing that spot on your jaw again as two of his fingers push past your clit, slipping over it easily. “Who’s the slut for not wearing underwear, again?”

“Steve,” you whine, not patient for this sort of teasing anymore.

He kisses down your neck, fingers parting through your slick as he glides up then lower again, the faintest graze to your clit and barely a nudge to your entrance. He tuts into your shoulder, mocking pity in his tone, the cocky man returning easily when he knows you’re this turned on, “Oh, I know. You just had such a bad day. Really need this, yeah?”

You can’t argue with him, fingers curling on the lip of the ledge, stepping closer to it. You’re sure he can feel you gushing around his fingers from just his words, how much his kissing worked you up, but you don’t care. You don’t want to fight it anymore, maybe Steve is worth just giving into.

“Ye-yes,” you gasp out as he rewards you with figure eights pressed into your clit, your eyelashes fluttering as your knees start to buckle. “Oh, fuck.”

Steve’s breath hitches at your affirmation, kissing over your neck as he increases the strength of each press. A slow, generous circle with the pads of his fingers, rolling over the bead of vibrating nerves with an agonizing and precise pressure and pace.

“Tell me,” he kisses down your jaw, groaning at the roll of your hips back into him. Another press of his lips to your temple as his fingers circle your entrance, “Tell me what you want.”

Your head turns, chasing his kiss, catching his bottom lip with another gasp as he pushes one finger inside of you and curls, “Y-you. I need you. Please.”

Steve and your lips push and pull against each other in a battle now, harsh breaths shared as he nods, agreeing to give you what you want. He slides a second digit inside of you and curls to the spot he finds every time and you shake your head no against his mouth - that’s not what you meant.

He moans, pressing his body up behind yours harder, back to kissing over your jaw and neck before he’s breathing in your ear. Voice raspy - dirty and filthy and everything you want as he asks, “Oh, not good enough? Jus-Just need me to fuck the bad day out of you?”

“Please,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed at the loss of his fingers slipping out of you, “Fuck me.”

Steve’s forehead hits between your shoulder blades, wide hands pushing at fabric, and you stand on your toes, anticipation radiating throughout your body when you feel his bare length against your folds - sure you have your rules, but breaking them for one night is at the bottom of your list of thing to think about currently. He moves one of your hands to the front of your sweatpants in a silent command to hold them up. Steve nudges at your entrance, your lip tugged between your teeth unable to suppress another whine as he pushes inside slowly. His voice barely audible even in your ear, his breath too fast and too hard, overtaking his words, “Need you to be quiet, honey.”

Your head falls forward, mouth opening in a gasp as he thrusts into you. He stops, a shaky breath leaving him as you both adjust to him filling you up, relishing in the missed feeling of your bodies being connected like this. Patience wears thin though, and you push back against him, your hand gripping the balcony barrier as your eyelashes flutter when he twitches from the movement inside of you. Steve’s hands rest on your waist, holding you steady as he draws out of you, thrusting back up.

He sets a slow pace, a dirty roll of his hips every few thrusts in and your toes curl against the balcony floor, head falling forward as you struggle not to make a sound. Steve’s mouth drags on your skin, from under one ear to the other, one hand caressing over your curves, shirt rising slightly as he ventures higher. Wide palm cupping one breast as his other holds your hip in a bruising grip.

“Steve, harder.” Your hand reaches back behind you, yanking on his hair with a whine. Steve pushes you both into the ledge, a growl slipping past his lips.

Steve’s thrusts pick up their pace and he breathes into your ear, a desperate and primal sound that’s more intimate and better than any sort of moan a man has ever made for you before, your name mingling with quick and short gasps for air.

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his hand moves from your chest down your stomach, pushing his way past your hand roughly, sweatpants dropping and neither of you caring. Your cry is muffled into his sweat slicked neck as he goes even faster, feeling like he’s so deep you’ll feel it the rest of your life, his fingers press frantic circles to your swollen clit.

“Fu-fuck, fuck, fuck,” you bite at his shirt collar, both of your hands above you in his hair, stretching onto your toes again, chasing and running away from the feeling about to bubble over.

Every nerve ending inside of you is coiled, at its breaking point - ready to crack. Steve’s hand that’s on your waist lifts, grabbing at your chin, and pulling you towards his mouth as he snaps his hips faster, stuttering their movements as he keeps working at your clit.

Warmth floods your stomach, eyes pressed tight, oranges and pinks from the sunset bursting behind your closed lids as you bite down on his lip, everything inside of you exploding as you release around him.

“St-Steve!”

His lips press to yours harsher, trying to silent you as he doesn’t stop his movements. Steve grunts into your mouth, cursing under his breath as his hips go even faster before they falter. His teeth drag across your bottom lip as he finally lets go, his release sending another wave of your orgasm crashing over your body. Stars blink behind your eyelids, breathless as you come back to earth.

Both of you gasp around each other’s lips as your body tightens then relaxes around him, his hand finally stops its circles to your overwhelmed nerves when you push him away. Sounds of the city return to your ears as your head falls back against his shoulder. Steve’s hands on your waist squeeze as he breathes heavily against your shoulder before kissing it. Both of you wince as he slips out of you.

He clears his throat as each of you pull your sweats up, his cheeks pink and yours hot. Turning to face him, your back hits the ledge as his hands fall to your sides and cage you in again.

Steve’s face is lit up orange and gold, eyes shimmering. They’re the color of honey and brown sugar in this fading sunlight, looking at you with a gaze that’s just as gooey as he leans in with a smile. Whispering as he hovers above your lips, “Still having a bad day?”

That same sticky feeling coats your chest as you shake your head no, both of you still breathing heavily. His top lip just skims your bottom one when loudly, from a nearby balcony, the clip from ‘When Harry Met Sally’ plays:

“I’ll have what she’s having!”

Your hand slaps over your mouth and Steve snorts, both of you dissolving into laughter as you rush back inside.

Your body heats with embarrassment, hands on your cheeks, “Oh my god.”

Steve doesn’t seem as phased, walking further into the apartment. “Hey, that’s a good movie, wanna watch it?” He laughs, running his hand through his hair.

Any mortification forgotten at his suggestion. You spin, finger in his face, “Aha! Bad 90s romcom, told you I could smell it on you.”

He waves you off, heading toward his bedroom, “Yeah, yeah, go make some popcorn miss can’t keep her mouth shut!”

“Me!” You scoff, following him, “Um, what was all that grunting! And breathing and-”

He cuts you off with a slow and deep kiss. Tongue flicking over yours dirty and rough, pulling away with a sharp inhale. “Tell me you didn’t like it.”

His words freeze you, and you stand together in his apartment, lit only by candlelight and the sunset that’s dipped below your eye line. Breaths mixing, bodies pressed together and Steve kisses the spot below your ear - one slow, sweet kiss that lingers before he pulls away.

He smirks at your dazed expression, calling over his shoulder, “Your favorite movie snack is in the cupboard!” Disappearing into his bathroom.

It’s just sex, that’s all this is.

That’s what you tell yourself as your legs turn from jelly to some sort of working limb as you make the popcorn.

That’s what you tell yourself as he settles in next to you on his couch, tossing the yellow knit blanket from Robin over your laps.

That’s what you tell yourself in the morning, when he’s in the shower and a delivery comes with clothes that fit you perfectly.

It’s just sex. Fun. That’s all this is.

That’s what you tell yourself as you slip on a brand new pair of heels and he kisses your forehead, reminding you with a wink that his balcony is always open after a bad day.

WCIL taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

#steve harrington #modern!steve harrington #modern!steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

162 notes · View notes