#he is a very scared boy at the core who wants to be loved by his father

[spielzeugkaiser]

[MASTERPOST]

Milek has high expectations how that talk should go, but also many many fears. And he does talk shit about Jaskier all the time, but I think their relationship wouldn't recover for a long time (maybe never) if Geralt said something wrong or nasty about Jaskier, because Milek is a loyal boy.

#the witcher #geraskier lovechild #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #artists on tumblr #Milek and Ciri start to have a sibling relationship! #he starts to confine in her!! #he is a very scared boy at the core who wants to be loved by his father #he has high expectations but also high fears #he wants Geralt to be 100% happy and accepting immediately but he also knows that realistically it's a shock but he also #the worst case scenario also lives rent free in his head #but the most important thing is that they find Jaskier!!! so everything has to wait

[tojipure]

Suguru knew from a very early time he was infatuated. But now seeing how you interacted with his family just had him whipped. Maybe he might just put a ring on that finger sooner than he originally planned.

-creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex, pet names; 'baby' 'doll' 'princess', breeding.

Soft music was playing in the background as you sat and laughed with his parents. His sisters joining along the conversation as they sat closely next to you. His heart warmed up at the sight. You fit in like a puzzle piece; like you belonged here.

“What’s the plan after you two graduate this year?” His father says catching you off guard. You two never really talked about it. Not because you two never had time, but you were scared. What if he wanted to pursue something that was completely out of your zone. What if he wanted to leave Japan but you wanted to stay.

“We haven’t really figured that out yet.” You sighed softly as you fidget with your fingers. Where was Suguru when you needed him. You felt awkward as his mother glances at his father. “He’s going to be taking over the company for me.” You hear the sliding door from the house open. Just in time.

“You scaring her?” Suguru chuckles taking a close seat next to you. His mom rolled her eyes playfully. “We were just talking about what the future holds for you two.” Suguru smiled and looks over at you, “I’m gonna buy us a small house, close to where she’ll be working.” You snapped your head towards him unaware of the plan.

“What?” You whispered. “And you know work with dad for a while, maybe put a ring on that finger. Who knows.” He smiles wrapping his arm around your shoulder. Your whole body felt warm. He really loved you. “Atta boy!” His father smiled and winked at him.

“Omg when you guys get married, me and Mimiko have to be flower girls!” Namako says grabbing your hands. She was excited at the idea of you and Suguru getting married more than you were. Rambling about what she’d do to her hair and how she’d do her makeup. Mimiko just rolled her eyes as she listens to her sister.

“You like that?” He whispers while everyone was too busy on their own conversations. You felt your core heat up at the sound of just his voice alone. “I’d love that.” You smiled leaning in to give him a small peck.

-

He watched you brush your teeth in the small bathroom near his room. He would love sitting on the toilet just to see you complete your night routine. The small short pink nightgown wrapped around your curves. He got hard just thinking about the night you two last had sex. It’s been almost a week since you’ve been here with his parents for spring break and it’s driving him crazy. Not being able to fuck you so good that your screaming his name out.

“Suguru I said let’s go…” You say interrupting Suguru’s dirty thoughts. “Yeah—“ He couldn’t help but smack your ass before getting up from the toilet. The small wince leaving your mouth as you pout your lips. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you ever since we got here.” He whispered as you two walked back to his room. His body pressed against your back; his rock hard dick pressing against your ass.

“Well I said not here, we have two more days here anyway. You can survive.” You breathily chuckled while closing the door behind Suguru. The house was all quiet. The girls were in their rooms probably scrolling through social media and his parents were sound asleep.

“Baby, you know I mean what I say.” He rest his arms behind his head as he watched you applying some extra lip balm. You smiled and turned to him, “About what?” You walk toward Suguru. Plopping yourself on top of his lap, straddling him.

“I’m gonna marry you.” He whispered as his hands made its way to your hips. Slowly rocking you back and forth on his clothed shaft. “Yeah?” You say leaning in to plant wet kisses on his lips. The berry lip balm flavor overtaking the taste. Your lips were so plushy and soft. That was one of many things Suguru loved about you.

“Princess…if I could, I’d put a ring on that finger tonight.” He grunts as his dick filled every inch of your throat. You were already taking him so well. The explicit gurgling sound coming out of your mouth as you fondled his balls.

The breathy moans leaving your mouth as Suguru relentlessly pounded himself deeper and deeper into your burning core.”I love you…” you whine while you left those pretty scratch marks on his back. He would always make you take pictures after so he could admire your artwork. “How about you carry my kids too doll.” He grunts his mouth so close to your ear. His mouth making those little grunts and groans you would listen to repeat if you could.

“Yeah…” you whispered back. It was hard. Suguru had a big dick and he knew how to use it too. Constantly hitting the gushy spot inside your aching pussy drove you crazy. But the last thing you wanted to do was face his parents if they ever heard how you and their son spent the night at their house.

You push his hair back leaning in leaving passionate kisses. You were close and he knew it. Fastening his pace as your moans pitched higher and faster. “ ‘m close..” you lean your head back into the pillow as Suguru nibbled on your nipples.

“Let it all out princess.” And you did. The cream drenching his dick had him pussy drunk. His dick going crazy as he could let it all out any second. His pace got sloppier as he felt his high come close. “Just like that..” you moan, he loved it. And you knew he loved it because seconds later he was cumming inside you. And he sat there with his dick leaking inside your pussy.

“The day, you have that beautiful diamond ring wrapped around your finger as I caress that beautiful baby bump…is the day where I know I made it in life.” He whispered while massaging your scalp as you cuddled him. Everything he said just made you fall even harder.

And maybe he should’ve listened to you; Because here you were sitting with his sisters as they bullied you and Suguru.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #smut #jjk suguru #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #rosipuree

[lexsssu]

Treasure (Akira Kurusu | Ren Amamiya)

TAGS: Akira/F!reader, yandere, obsession, praise, breeding, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver.

“Thank you for the curry, Akira-kun. It’s delicious as always and the coffee is perfect…!”

“Nothing less for my favorite patron of course~”

“Oh stop it, you! Using your charms won’t make me order another serving of curry”

“Darn. Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time then~”

“Of course you will. But I hope you know that the reason I keep coming back here is because of the food and not because of some pretty-boy cafe owner…!”

“Mhmm, I know very well that it’s only the food and drinks that keep you coming back. So that means all I have to do is make everything on the menu irresistible so you’d have no choice~”

“....Smart-ass”

Akira chuckled at the adorable pout you sent him, feeling his heartbeat seemingly getting faster as you played along with him. How your innocent little smiles and colorful blushes sent his heart into overdrive, reminding him constantly that the thief had been the one stolen from instead. 

You stole his heart and you didn’t even realize it.

So it was only natural that he would steal yours in return, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isn't she an adorable little thing?

So small

So soft

So ripe for the taking

Don't you just want to sink your teeth into her pretty little neck?

Leave your mark on her

You know you want to

She's practically begging for it

All you have to do is take the first step 

You know full well that she wants to be moaning beneath you

She wants to choke on your cock

She wants you to stuff it inside her tight pussy 

Give her all your cum, make sure you fuck it all straight into her womb

Do it. You want it. She wants it. Stop pretending like you're a good man when we both know you're the farthest thing from one.

And none of that matters, because you'll have her anyway.

WE'LL have her.

Whether she wants to be ours or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It's too dangerous for you to go home in this weather. Why don’t you stay the night here instead? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if anything were to happen to you…”

Those were Akira’s words when he dissuaded you from traveling back to your own apartment as the thunderstorm raged outside of Leblanc. 

Yet...how did it turn out like this?

“Aren’t you my precious little treasure? Do you feel how tightly your pretty cunt is gripping my cock? It’s your first time and yet it’s swallowing up everything so happily...I just knew you were made for me~”

Arms wrapped around his strong neck, you hang onto Akira for dear life as he spears his girthy length into your sopping wet core, spreading your lower lips while the veins that pulsed along its length scraping against your previously untouched walls. He had your sinfully thick thighs wrapped around his narrow waist as he bucked up into you, basically carrying the entirety of your weight with his surprisingly strong arms.

For a man who supposedly worked full-time as the proprietor of a little cafe in Tokyo, Akira had both strength and a build beneath his unassuming clothes that clearly stated his physical prowess.

Not that you had any capacity to think about that when the man was flooding your insides with his thick, gooey cum. Your eyes are glazed as you panted, inhaling lungfuls of air as a heady mix of your clear love juice and his pearly essence dripped onto the wooden floors of his bedroom atop the shop.

Aside from the half-hard cock that plugged you up, you clearly felt the heat of his potent cum in your lower belly after the curly-haired male made sure to cum while he was balls-deep inside you. 

“Good girl. That’s my good girl. Taking my cum so eagerly...you’ll treasure my gift to you, won’t you? Because you’re my treasure and I want to leave my mark in you… ”

You should be scared at how things reached this point all of a sudden, but you find that you don’t care.

Not when you’d also long held a torch for the charming barista.

It was only your own insecurities that prevented you from ever saying a word. Why would you when Akira was so handsome, so charming, so smart as compared to your...mediocre self?

“Yours…♥” Smiling dazedly at him, you press a chaste kiss to his soft lips before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as a wave of drowsiness overtakes you.

There’s no need to ask questions. What matters is that he loves you as much as you loved him. So you don’t think about it anymore, simply relishing in the fact that the object of your affections returned your seemingly unrequited love.

“ I’ll protect you. No one will ever take you away from me. Don’t worry, my dear. You’ll be taken care of for life. Now that you’re mine...you’ll be treated like the priceless treasure you are~ ”

Eerie olden orbs glowed in the darkness, sometimes glinting with an unspeakable malice but they mostly shone with tenderness they were seemingly incapable of whenever they were trained on your sleeping figure.

#lexsssu writes #persona 5 #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader #persona 5 joker x reader #p5 joker x reader #p5 x reader #persona 5 x reader #crossposted on ao3

[cryptidclaw]

Bignose ref sheet!

As i have given myself and several other ppl brainrot for this sillie dog, I decided I must give him a ref sheet, the thing I do for all my ocs who i am obsessed with.... I just really like making ref sheets tbh.

I also added some bonus info on the boy to the sheet as well!

(Bignose Origin Post here!)

me rambling about bignose below v

impotent facts:

he is a Warrior of Singingclan (a clan within the Whisperingclan universe hehe)

he is mostly a hunter as well as a border guard, he mostly just scares of trespassers with his presence... he is also great at taking down foxes and badgers if they were on the territory!

His momma is Margoldheart the head perma-Queen of the clan (and the most stubborn woman alive), his brother is Littlehowl (someone suggested that suffix and omg its so cute i had to use it!) the extrovert of the two brothers, and his mate/boyfriend is Chicken- a Coydog who lives on the edge of the territory and gets away with trespassing bec everyone loved Bignose being happy.

Singingclan is probably the kindest clan ever? they are super welcoming to outsiders... and while hesitant about a dog in the clan, they quickly grew to love Bignose and view him as a core clan member.

bignose has general anxiety, though it's not extreme, it just makes him a bit more worried generally. he has big social anxiety tho and is especially awkward around people he doesn't know, which is why he dislikes meeting the other clans. he also dislikes meeting them because they are not as trusting and as kind to him as his clan, sometimes being openly hostile.

he can actually be very intimidating if he wants to, and is very practiced in his scary dog performance for border protection.

Bignose is banned from battle, by agreement of all the clans because he would murk all of them he was literally bred to hunt wolves.

i have absolutely no clue how a tiny borzoi puppy ended up in the woods... dont worry about it.

#bignose #bignose posting #bignose oc #my ocs #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #warrior cats #warriors #clangen #?kindof #borzoi #borzoi dog

[f1smutwriter]

Hi :) I really liked your poly!fic with Charles and Max, I was wondering if you could do something similar with Oscar and Logan where Logan and the Reader are subs and Oscar is the dom. If not that is totally okay, thank you so much, I really enjoy your writing ❤️

|𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐥𝐬𝟐, 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏)

Dom!Oscar piastri x Sub!Logan sargent x Sub!Reader

Summary: Oscar reminds you and Logan that your his and only his

Warnings:SMUT! Dom/subs situation, oral (fem and male rec), anal, unprotected sex (NO),) hair pulling, spitting, face riding, dirty talk, pet names (angel, my little sluts, pretty boy/girl etc), degrading mixed with praising, squirting, fluff, and more that I probably missed

Notes: for the person who requested, you did gods work. Don’t get me wrong I love sub Oscar but dom Oscar it’s just so unexpected like he does not look like a dom he looks like a full blown sub. But anyways here you go love. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Me, Oscar, and Logan were all at the club celebrating the beginning of the f1 season with all their friends. Right now I’m currently dancing with Logan we slowly grind on each other as Oscar stares at us with such lust in his eyes. Well all stared dating when they were both in f2. We’ve all three been together ever since.

“Is osc staring” Logan asked while grinding his hard cock against my clothed core making me whimper in his neck. “Yes he’s staring” I mumbled in his neck before feeling unfamiliar hands around my waist grinding against me. I gasp loudly before moving away from the random person. “Come on baby don’t be like that” the drunk guy slurred before trying to grab me again. Logan stepped in and pushed him off. “Don’t touch my girl” he threatened the guy, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him like this he’s normally a very quiet obedient person like I am.

“I’m pretty sure if she had a feel of me inside her she wouldn’t be your girl anymore” the guy grumbled trying to scare Logan. But before he could say anything Oscar threw a right hook to the guys face making the drunk man stumble down. “He said don’t touch our girl, before I fucking hurt you” Oscar threatened before making sure I was safe in Logan’s arms. “Oh so she’s fucking both of you. Never mind she’s probably worn out anyway” the guy mumbled making Oscar start beating the shit out of him. I just look at him scared never seeing him be this violent before.

“Oscar” Logan yelled making Oscar stop punching the bloody guy. “Your scaring her lets go” he shouted before grabbing Oscar and me and taking us to our car. Logan goes into the driver seat as I sit on Oscar’s lap in the passenger seat. “I’m sorry angel” Oscar whispered to me making me look at him with a bit of fear. “It’s okay I know you just wanted to protect me and lo” I whispered softly to him before hiding my face into his neck.

“Hated the way he touched you and Logan, you guys are mine and I’d be damned if anyone ever touched what is mine” He said possessively while rubbing my thigh. I whimpered softly in his neck feeling his grip on my thighs getting a bit tighter.

"Ozzy calm down my love, you're gonna bruise up her thigh" Logan says softly putting his hand over Oscars hand that was on my thigh. "I'm sorry princess, he just pisses me off. If Logan didn't stop him who knows what he would have touch next" He growled in my ear but still loud enough for Logan to hear. "These tits" He grumbled before squeezing both of my tits making me gasp lightly. “Or this pussy” he growled darker into my ear cupping my clothed pussy making me squeal from the sudden friction.

“Can you guys wait til we get home I can’t touch no one right now” Logan whined not being able to touch me or Oscar. So Oscar brings his hand to Logan’s semi-hard cock and takes it out of his pants stroking it as his other hand rubs my clit I’m tight circles. Me and Logan moan at the same time. I close my eyes feeling the pleasure take over my body, but Logan tries to keep his eyes on the road.

“B-babe you can’t, I-fuck I’m driving” Logan stuttered in pleasure and his grip on the wheel grows tighter. “Who’s the boss here” Oscar asked him while rubbing his tip with his thumb making Logan hips buck. “Y-y-you” Logan groans feeling Oscar’s pace go faster.

“Then why are you telling me what to do, huh” he mumbled in his ear squeezing Logan’s tip making him moan loudly. “Do you hear our boy, so desperate to be filled huh. Is that what you want want that pretty little pussy to be filled with me or him” Oscar whispered in my ear making whine as he continues to circle my clit with such tight firm circles. “Ozzy m’so close” I whimpered feeling my legs shake. All of a sudden I feel the pleasure stop making me cry out as Logan does the same thing.

“Gosh you both are such sluts, my little sluts. Only I get to touch this cock and pussy because you both belong to me and only me, Understand” he says demanding for our answers. “What’s your color darling” he whispered to me making me whine. “G-green” I babbled to him trying to get off on his knee but he stops me. “Angel what’s your color” he asked Logan, while Logan tries his hardest to get us home as fast as possible. “Green osc” he mumbled trying to get more friction from his hand.

A few minutes I feel the car stopping making me look out the window seeing that we were home. “So this is what we’re gonna do. You both are gonna go upstairs and strip, and if I find one piece of clothing on any of you. You’ll be over my lap got it” he warned us making me grab Logan’s hand. “Yes” we both say before we practically run upstairs. We start striping in front of each other making Logan look at my body, and making me look at him.

We hear Oscar’s heavy foot steps to we face towards the door naked and ready for him. “Wow I guess I trained you both right” Oscar grinned while looking at both of us. He comes over to Logan grabbing his cock stroking it softly. I watch them interact with each other while I squeeze my thighs together for friction. “Your so hard Logan who made you this hard baby” Oscar said playing coy like he wasn’t jerking him off on the car ride.

“Y-y-you fuck feels so good” Logan moaned throwing his head back from pure pleasure. Then he looks at me, seeing me clench my thighs to help me out. “Aww are you all wet princess, how about since he’s been such a good boy Logan tastes this pretty little pussy” Oscar teased while cupping my wet cunt. All I could do was nod wanting Logan to taste me.

“Go lay down for Logan and make sure your pretty little legs are spread so I can see” he whispered to me making me walk to the edge of the bed and spread my legs as far as they can go. “Look at that Logan, gonna eat her out good huh baby” he chuckled to Logan who was looking his lips. Logan comes over to me and goes on his knees spreading my lips to get a better view of my wet cunt.

He started to tease me and kiss up my thighs leaving soft marks on my inner thighs making me moaned softly. He then took a bold strap of my pussy from my hole to my throbbing clit, making me throw my head back in pleasure and moan. Oscar came up to me and started to suck on my nipple adding more to the pleasure of Logan eating me out. “F-feels so good Lo-” I moaned before getting cut off by my own scream from him sucking harshly on my clit. I tug on his hair feeling my orgasm coming, making my legs tremble from the intense pleasure.

“Need to cum please I want to cum” I cried out feeling my orgasm about to wash over me. “Cum baby, cum on our boys tongue” he whispered making me cry out feeling myself cum all over Logan’s tongue while pulling his hair making him groan against my cunt. But Logan doesn't stop he keeps eating me out like a starved man making my legs tremble with sensitively. “Lo-too much” I cried out tearing up trying to pull him away. He finally stops and kisses up my thighs before pulling away fully, licking his lips retasting my juices. “She taste so good osc” Logan whimpered softly before Oscar grabs his jaw and kisses him sharing my taste off of his tongue.

“Your right baby she does” Oscar said sucking on Logan’s tongue making him whimper as Oscar slowly goes on his knees in front of him. I just watch Oscar go on his knees and lip up Logan’s pre-cum from his angry red tip making Logan moan softly. I squeezed my legs watching my boyfriend suck off my other boyfriend. Oscar took Logan’s full member in his mouth making Logan moan loudly, while pulling his hair. Oscar slapped his thigh since he didn’t ask permission to touch him. “P-please” Logan begged making Oscar chuckle while nodding as he continued to suck him off. Moving his head up and down, wrapping his hand around the places he couldn’t fit.

I see Oscar trying to deep throat him but failing, I giggled softly making him take his mouth away from his throbbing cock. “Come here you want to laugh at me, you’re gonna take all of it” Oscar said grabbing me and putting Logan’s cock in my mouth as he guides my head on Logan’s cock. He starts making me go lower almost taking all of Logan’s member making me gag a bit. “Aww what happened had so much to say but now you can’t take it huh” Oscar taunts me making Logan moan loudly and making me suck him faster.

“O-osc so c-close baby” Logan moaned gripping my hair and tugging it. Oscar pulls me away from Logan’s cock making us both whine. “Go get the lube baby” Oscar says to Logan making him grab the lube from the side dresser on his side. “Bend over. Now” he demanded Logan making him bend over in front of him his chest on the bed but he was standing up. I watch the whole thing, watching Oscar put lube on his cock along with Logan’s hole. Without hesitation Oscar sinks his cock into Logan’s hole making Logan grab my hand and moan. “While I fuck you eat her pussy” Oscar stuttered trying not to think about how tight Logan was. “Don’t want to” I told Oscar as Logan grabs my thighs to eat me out again.

“Did I ask what you wanted, no I didn’t so you’re gonna cum as much as you can before he cums. Then I’m gonna fuck your tight pussy got it” He grunted to me before thrusting slowly into Logan. Before I could answer I get cut off by my own moan as Logan eat me out fast like he was thirsty for ages. I cried out loudly gripping his hair as he moans into my weeping cunt from Oscar’s cock bullying his hole. “Gosh you both are fucking pathetic” Oscar laughed pounding into Logan’s hole hitting his prostate perfectly with each thrust. I start tearing up as he starts fucking me with his tongue feeling so close to my orgasm.

“Os-oscar m’gonna cum” Logan moaned loudly against my cunt making my thighs twitch from the vibrations of his voice. “M-me too want to cum” I begged feeling tears rolling down my face as Logan keeps me in place and devours my cunt. “Aww does my sluts want to cum” he teased making us both cry out. I moaned the loudest when I feel Logan sucking on my clit harder than earlier. Oscar reaches between him and Logan and starts stroking his hard cock, making Logan let out a long moan.

“I’m gonna count down from three and you both cum at the same time got it” Oscar groaned while thrusting in faster Logan’s hole making him almost scream out from his tip brushing to prostate. “Three” he said staring to count and making Logans assault on my clit go even faster. I feel almost light headed and no moans were coming out of my mouth just silent ones. “Two” he continued pushing Logan’s head deeper into my pussy making tears come out of my eyes, my thighs tremble, and my breathing being uneven. “One cum for me” Oscar whispered making me and Logan both moan out loud at the same time. I cum all over Logan’s face as he cums on Oscar’s hand, making Oscar pump out as much as he can.

“Log s-stop” I cried out as he continued to suck on my clit with no mercy. Logan finally pulls away from my pussy making me sigh in relief. “T-taste so good” he whimpered extremely tired from getting fucked. He lays down next to me pulling me into his lap but I’m still off the edge. All of a sudden I feel Oscar slip his thick cock inside me making me scream out in pleasure, I never get used to how much he stretched me out perfectly. “O-ozzy so sensitive t-to m-much” I cried as Logan whispers sweet nothings in my ear like Oscar isn’t fucking my guts. “Come on princess if our boy can take it, you can too, so don’t start whining” he groaned feeling me clench around him, making him go even faster hitting my g-spot every single time.

“C-close” I screamed feeling my orgasm embarrassingly fast. He places his hand on my stomach making me feel all of him. “Feel that baby I’m so fucking deep” he growled going faster and deeper which is impossible deep. He moves his hand down and starts rubbing my clit in tight circles. “C-can I c-cum please need it so bad” I begged and screamed feeling so close that’s it’s making my legs shake like crazy. “Cum princess on daddy’s cock” he whispered making me squirt all over his cock without knowing. All he does is cum in me pulling out and rubbing my clit fast with his palm making me squirt out more. I cried out from overstimulation squeezing my legs together so he couldn’t touch me no more.

I feel the fuzzy feeling that I always go into after sex with them. I was always the one that falls into subspace since they make me cum more than once. “Aww is my little princess in her subspace” he says softly kissing my head before going to the bathroom to get a towel. Logan starts scratching my head to help me out of subspace. “Come back to us baby girl” Logan whispered making me whimper as he runs his fingers through his hair. Oscar cums back cleans me up, I whimpered from the feeling of the rough material on my sensitive cunt. “I know princess I know but I have to” he said while cleaning me up good before he cleans up Logan’s stomach of his own cum.

I slowly come back and automatically fall asleep on both of them making Logan and Oscar cuddle up to me and each other. “Where was I when that dickhead came” Oscar whispered to Logan making him chuckle a bit. “You were with Lando and Alex” Logan said in a groggy voice. “I hope he knows that you both belong to me” Oscar grumbled making Logan chuckle a bit more in his neck. “We love you to Oscar we love you to”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes: what to request in one day look at me yall look at me. Anyways this book, it’s tooo goood had me blushing the whole time it was crazy. Anyways to the person who requested.Thank you girl that you made me write a masterpiece and I love it. Also if you see mistakes I’m sorry I’m just a girl trying to write as best as she can.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #logan sargeant #logan sargeant smut #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant blurb #logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant fanfiction #logan sargeant fic #oscar piastri x reader

[lovebugism]

hi hello "love you on purpose" absolutely devasted me with it's cuteness and i cannot wait for part two!!!! 💗

✶ ┄ LOVE YOU, ON PURPOSE (ii)

part one | part two

summary: steve can't seem to stay away from the local freaks. he's more surprised to find himself falling for one of them. you have trouble believing that someone like him could want you in the first place. he wants to prove to you that he's not king steve anymore. (18k)

pairing: steve harrington / eddie's bff!reader

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, idiots in love, slight angst, hurt to comfort (sorta), fem!reader TW smut 18+, lots of intimacy and affection and awkwardness, p in v sex, talks of insecurities, reader has an allison reynolds-esque transformation but with a better ending (outfit inspo x, x), probable typos

a/n: welp. here it is. the final part of this 30k+ word fic. it was very fun and very painful to write and i'm very glad it's finally done and out in the world! thanks for all the love on the first part btw reading all the feedback has easily been my favorite part of writing this <3 with that being said, get comfy, get a snack, and enjoy! xoxo

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Falling over you is the news of the day.

If yearning had a shape, you’re pretty sure it’d look an awful lot like you. 

The clumsiest of humans, fresh into her adulthood but still feeling like a child most days. Soaking wet, born yesterday. A caterpillar weaving her cocoon and trying to figure out where she fits in the world. The girl who decides she belongs right next to this big, boisterous, multi-colored butterfly she couldn’t stand a year or more ago.

And Steve Harrington, he was… Well, he was the kind of poem people spend their entire lives trying to write. 

He was the perfect mixture of beauty and warmth, of mystery and obscurity — the line where the pink of a sunset meets the purple of a starry night. He was all of this rolled up into a twenty-something-year-old boy. A fumbling butterfly that’s getting used to his new wings.

Maybe if you were talented enough, you could write the thing yourself. There’s something powerful in knowing that you could compose some dainty requiem so much bigger than yourself. A beautiful thing that would stand the test of time because there would never be anything else like it. 

It wouldn’t be because of you, though. You passed Ms. O’Donnell’s English class by the skin of your teeth, so your writing leaves much to be desired. It would be your muse that would enamor the masses come the next several centuries, because there will never, ever be another Steve Harrington.

At the very core of this poem would read a universal truth: I have fallen in love with his enigmatic being, and now I’m dealing with the consequences.

Well, you’re trying to deal with them, at least. You’re not having a very easy go at it.

Most of the time, you feel like a thousand bricks have piled on top of you. The jagged edges scrape up your arms and press varying shades of purple into your skin. They crush you underneath their weight, but you don’t try too hard to climb out from under them. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

You feel a little stuck underneath all the feelings you have for Steve. 

You’re not quite sure what to do with them all. They’re too heavy to lift; there’s too much of them to crawl out. It all leaves you feeling a bit trapped. 

It’s a good kind of trapped, though. 

Once the hurt passes, the weight starts to feel like you’re being swaddled in a blanket. Or a cocoon. 

As scared as it makes you, as overwhelmed as you feel, you don’t want this puppy-like adoration to end.

But sometimes, the scrapes sting more than they usually do. The scabs split and start to weep. The faded bruises turn purple again, then to blue and black, and they ache all over. They remind you that girls like you don’t end up with guys like Steve, and the harsh realization turns the comforting weight of being in love into feeling like you’re being buried alive.

Steve is a pretty boy. He’s a rich, prettyboy who wears vintage jeans and drives a new Beemer and has never wanted for anything in his life.

And you’re… whatever the total opposite of that is.

You wear whatever’s cheapest at the thrift store or what Eddie lets you steal from his closet. You drive a rust bucket that belonged to your dad until he lost his license, so the thing practically rotted in the backyard until you got yours. And all you’ve ever done is want for things because you’ve never had anything.

And the one thing you want the most is something you’ve never been able to admit to anyone. Not even Eddie. Not even yourself. 

Screw new clothes or a car fresh off the lot. You don’t want popularity — you don’t even want money (though it certainly wouldn’t hurt). You want so desperately to be loved that it makes your bones ache.

All you want is someone to hold your wrists and kiss your palms, to cradle you when the thunder is too loud and the cracks of lightning make you shake, to be a hiding place where you can keep every secret and be certain it stays safe.

You want someone to smile at you the way Steve smiles at you. You want to feel held the way he makes you feel held — without ever touching you. You want to feel wanted the way he makes you feel wanted.

You want Steve. 

And you’re not sure how long silly love songs will substitute your yearning.

“What do you think about Steve?” you ask Eddie out of the blue.

He was in the middle of a rant about his latest campaign, but you hadn’t heard a single word of it if you’re honest. The butterflies in your stomach were too loud.

The boy sits across the room at his desk, back hunched, while he scribbles ideas into his tattered Dungeons and Dragons composition journal. You’re sprawled out in the middle of his bed like you have been for the past hour, making constellations of Steve’s face from the marks on his ceiling.

“I think he’s an asshole,” Eddie answers without missing a beat.

It makes you roll your eyes. You shouldn’t have expected anything less out of him, really. You toy with the frayed hem of your crop top and rephrase. “Okay, but do you think he likes me?”

“I know he likes you,” he scoffs. “That’s the problem.”

You smile widely to yourself, then purse your lips to the side to keep it hidden. There’s no one looking to see you grinning like an idiot, but it doesn’t make you feel any less like one.

“He wants to take me on a date tonight,” you confess out loud for the first time.

It wasn’t like you to keep something like that from Eddie. Or anything. At all. But you found yourself hiding it like some kind of dark secret. A distant part of you was terrified that it was all in your head, but it’s been three days since Steve asked you now. Which means you’ve spent three days pinching yourself.

You haven’t woken up yet.

“Like, a date date,” you clarify and rise on your elbows to study the boy across the room. 

You feel the need to explain yourself because movie nights and rides around town and hanging out in the break room after closing don’t feel nearly as serious as Steve wining and dining you. It feels much more official now, as though the line between liking someone and like-liking them has been drawn.

“And I’ve never been on a date date before—”

“What about the one time you went out with, uh…” Eddie trails off as he aggressively erases something on his paper. He stills and squints over his shoulder at you. “What was his name? Matt? Marcus?”

“Mason,” you correct and try not to shudder at the memory. “And I left him at the restaurant because he asked me how big my boobs were within the first ten minutes, so he doesn’t count.”

A grin pulls at the boy’s face. He chuckles to himself. “Oh, yeah.”

“And I know I shouldn’t be so nervous about it ‘cause it’s just a dumb date, like… We’ve been alone together a billion times now, you know? It’s just…” you ramble in one breath, then trail off with a huff. You flop back onto the mattress rather dramatically. “Steve Harrington doesn’t date girls like me. He dates girls like Nancy Wheeler. And, as far as I’m concerned, they were a matching made in fucking heaven— I mean, I didn’t know them back then or anything—”

“Obviously,” Eddie murmurs. “That was a train wreck.”

“—But they looked fucking perfect together, Eds!”

The image of them walking the hallways of Hawkins High isn’t hard to picture. You can still see Nancy in her pretty pleated skirt and pink manicured nails and Steve with his stupid hair and brand new Ray-Bans. They owned the school like their parents owned Hawkins — it was practically kismet. 

You try to picture him and you together, and it doesn’t come as effortlessly. 

It’s like trying to wedge pieces from opposites puzzles together; it just doesn’t work. 

And it’s different from anyone Steve’s ever dated. It’s different from anyone you’ve ever dated. People look at him and his pretty girlfriend and gush, “oh, wow, they look good together.” People look at you and a guy with smudged eyeliner and heeled boots and whisper in disgust, “oh god, they deserve each other.”

You won’t get any of the kindness that Steve is used to, only stares from strangers as they try hopelessly to figure out whether or not you’re dating — because surely, he wouldn’t stoop low enough to date someone like you.

“And I don’t wanna…” you waver, trying and failing to put your fears into words. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just scared.”

Eddie shakes his head to himself. “You don’t need to be scared, okay?” he mumbles, his attention still turned down to his notebook.

“Oh, thanks, Eds. I’m cured,” you monotone.

“I just mean that—” he cuts himself off with a deep sigh and swivels in his chair to face you completely. “Steve’s a douchebag, alright? But he’s a good douchebag.”

Your brows furrow. “…What?”

“He used to be an asshole and everything, but… I don’t know, I guess he turned out to be a pretty good guy— and if you tell him I told you that, I will kill you,” Eddie explains in one breath. The half-hearted threat spills from his mouth,and he goes suddenly soft. “He’s not gonna hurt you, okay? I promise. I mean, the guy’s practically a fucking teddy bear.”

A smile pulls slow at your lips. 

It’s the nicest thing you’ve ever heard him say about Steve, despite having been friends with him for nearly a year now. The foreign kindness comforts you well enough. If Eddie didn’t think Steve was every bit the good douchebag he says he is, there’s no way he’d let you go anywhere near him.

“Yeah?” you mutter.

“Yeah,” he echoes with a huff, obviously upset about having to admit such a truth. Then he shrugs. “And if he does hurt you, I’ll beat him up. Which, with his track record, I’m guessing it wouldn’t be too difficult.”

A laugh tumbles from your mouth. “Thanks for looking out, Eds.”

He only grumbles in response.

And even though he complains the entire time, he drops you back off at your place and helps you agonize over what to wear. He sits on your bathroom counter to keep you company while you shower, then holds your makeup bag in his lap while you get ready. He only comments once about how differently you’re doing it.

Then the boy lounges on your bed, legs crossed and back propped on the headboard while you rifle through your closet. In true Eddie Munson fashion, he’s got something to say about everything you pick out.

Your white sweater is too tight, he tells you, and the fuzzy texture feels too weird. The plaid skirt you pull from the depths of your closet is too “christmas-y” and “totally not your color.” He tells you he likes your boots better as he helps you with the finicky buckle of your Mary Janes, then snaps the band of your knee-highs when he stands again.

Eddie tells you all of this because it’s easier to tease you than to say what he really thinks — that it feels like you’re in high school again and trying out styles that don’t suit you.

He loved you the way you were, in black and leather and silver chains and fishnets, because he knew that’s what you felt good in. You found your identity in your unconventional style and you sparkled in it.

And you were still pretty like this, dressed in brighter colors and looking like the girls that used to bully you in high school, but it’s so obviously not you. More than anything, it irks him that you’re doing all of this for Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

But Eddie knows that you’re nervous — he can tell by the way you’re talking a thousand miles a minute and checking your appearance in the mirror every couple seconds like something might’ve changed. He also knows that you’re still skeptical about this whole thing. Because you have no idea that Steve looks at you like the whole world could crumble around him, and he wouldn’t even blink.

You don’t know that you have nothing to worry about.

So Eddie figures he’ll wait to make fun of you. Save all his teasing remarks for when you’re gushing about the date the next day.

But you’re already aware of all this — how different you look. You hardly recognize yourself when you look in the mirror. You’ve traded in your shades of black for something brighter. Your blowsy hair is clipped back out of your face. Your makeup is more conventional and modest than you’re used to.

You look less like the freak you usually are and more like a wild thing that’s been tamed.

You feel pretty. 

Or, at the very least, the idea that Steve will think you’re pretty makes you feel pretty.

It makes all the imposter syndrome worth it. 

You stand in front of the full-length mirror and tug the scratchy socks up and over your knee when they start to slip down. You rise once more, giving yourself another once over, then nod in approval — pleased with the costume you’ve put on.

A fleeting through with a mean, green, bleeding heart and a mind of its own scratches bitterly at the confines of your skull.

Eat your heart out, Nancy Wheeler.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The ghost in you, she don't fade.

Steve, riddled with chronic feelings of inadequacy, overcooks the chicken and spritzes too much cologne on himself.

He had always been the kind of boy that loved things a little harder than he should’ve. 

Ask any plant he’s ever owned that he accidentally killed with every leaf he overwatered, frightened that anything less would be neglectful. He was always so scared of them dying that he suffocated them until they wilted anyway.

He thought he might’ve grown out of all that until he realized he did the same thing with Nancy. 

He squeezed her too tight and she squirmed at his smothering, called him bullshit and pushed him away so she could breathe again, then stomped on his heart until she was certain it stopped beating for her.

And therein lies the state of limbo Steve Harrington has lived in all his life — between loving something too much and not enough. He hasn’t yet found that balance that stops plants from dying and people from running away.

He isn’t quite sure how to be anything other than the man he is now. 

His conscious clings to your every move. He thinks about when he’s awake, and when he isn’t, he hopes he’ll be lucky enough to dream about you. He bothers you at work all day, then asks if you want to go for a ride when you’re off because he hates being away from you. The nights get too cold when you stray too far. And even though he’s never been much of a chef, he offers to cook for you because he wants to show you he cares enough to try.

Steve’s the kind of guy that overcooks his chicken because he’s terrified that you’ll get sick if it’s not done enough. He’s the kind of guy that douses himself in cologne, then breaks the bottle because he’s terrified of not smelling good enough. He wants everything to be enough for you. 

Steve Harrington, for once in his life, wants to be enough for somebody. 

But now all he is, is a stupid boy that never learns, who smells like he’s trying to overcompensate for being a terrible, terrible chef. 

When Nancy broke his heart, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to be this person again. Steve was scared he’d become someone he didn’t recognize — someone who didn’t care enough to water plants because, hey, they’re gonna die anyway, right? Because he gave and gave and gave, and had nothing to show for it but a stupid wilting flower.

Steve made a dark room of his broken heart. A boogeyman lived there, too. It made him scared that he’d never be able to love someone like he loved Nancy.

But then you came out of nowhere — this beautiful, loud, and mysterious thing that exudes every color of the rainbow when she laughs, despite her blacker-than-black wardrobe. You smile at him like you’ve never been hurt, like a sun that’s never known the night. It makes him feel like he can be that too.

The two of you seek a similar solace in one another. You fill each other’s voids without effort and without trying, like puzzle pieces or halves of an orange.

Steve met you and he realized that he didn’t get his ability to love from Nancy. He had always been a lover, a boy who could love something deeply, and that didn’t go away when she broke his heart.

And sometimes it was awful. It was painful and frightening more than it was anything else — love. It was doubtful and envious and distant. 

Love makes you selfish and creepy and uncharacteristically overbearing. Love makes you worry about your hair and overcook your chicken and drench yourself in cologne. Love takes a hell of a lot of hope, and that’s what he feels like when he’s with you — hopeful. Like he’s never been hurt before.

A surge of optimism and apprehension hits him like a bolt of purple lightning just behind his ribcage when the doorbell rings. Mostly because he knows you’re waiting on the other side of it. His hands shake when he opens the door, but not because he’s scared. He’s just full of hope and buzzing with its foreign intensity.

Steve finds the rest of his life standing on his front porch, dressed in all the trappings of his past.

You’re smiling wide when you see him, the same whizzing ball of hope that he is now, and clutching a bottle of wine. You’ve traded your usual grocery store alcohol for something bottom shelf from an actual liquor store. The sunshine grin you’re wearing is about the only thing familiar about you now.

With your hair pulled back, brows combed neatly to match the pretty makeup you’ve spotted gingerly on your features, dressed in foreign colors with knee-high socks and kitten heels — you look nothing like yourself. It’s a costume you’ve got on, still so pretty but pretending in some way.

It has Steve startled for a moment, thinking Halloween came a whole six months earlier and he never got the memo. Then he realizes you must’ve gotten all dressed up for him, even though you never had to. Just like he didn’t have to try and play chef to impress you.

Both of you are just stupid idiots who care too much, making it painfully obvious despite your best efforts to keep it hidden.

“Hi,” you grin sheepishly through a foreign, pale pink, and glossy mouth.

Steve’s too busy gaping at you to respond in a timely fashion.

The wind billows through your hair and sends strands of it flying in your face. And even though he can’t remember a time when you’ve ever worried about the wild halo on your head, you’re quick to tuck them back into place again. 

With most of it pulled back and combed with obvious intent, your face is left unhidden. Your neck and shoulders and collarbones are too. And you’ve got on this tight sweater and pretty skirt and tall socks that make your legs look longer. All of your usually concealed features are heightened. 

The dainty swipes of mascara, eyeshadow, and blush only accentuate them further, though your spots are attentively covered with foundation that isn’t exactly your shade. It’s a bit lighter than your skin tone, like you’d gotten it some time ago when you were still a bit paler.

You look less like the loud, plucky girl he’s come to know and someone more timid, delicate, and polished.

You’re so pretty he damn near forgets how to speak. His tongue swells and every word he could use loses meaning at the sight of you. But it isn’t you, and that only confounds him further.

It’s like you’ve covered yourself in body paint. The real version of you is hidden somewhere underneath it all, glimmering somehow more golden than the flaxen you’re playing pretend in.

When Steve realizes he hasn’t yet answered you, it feels like it’s been ten minutes or more. In reality, no longer than five seconds have gone by.

“Hey,” he greets finally, in an exhale that gets caught in his throat halfway through. He clears it and smiles shakily. “Hi.”

He steps to the side of the doorway and ushers you inside. He wipes his sweaty palms on his slacks when he thinks you aren’t looking, but you catch him in the act when you turn to face him again. Your grin widens and you trap it between your teeth.

“Smells good in here,” you compliment, walking slowly backward with your hands clasped behind your back.

“Thanks,” he accepts your flattery with an awkward hand on his neck. “Yeah, uh— I kinda burnt the chicken a little bit, but everything else should be good. At least, I hope it’s good. It’s kinda hard to mess up a salad, right?”

He laughs under his breath, then starts to ramble without realizing it.

“I’m not the best cook, as it turns out. I mean, I thought I could at least fake it, you know? Fake it ’til you make it, or whatever that bullshit saying is — but there is no faking the tornado I just had in the kitchen. I don’t think I’ve made a bigger mess in my life. But, uh, yeah… And don’t worry! I didn’t put tomatoes in the pasta. Or the salad. Or the sauce. I know you don’t think them, so…”

You’re in the middle of beaming and trying very hard not to laugh when he hits you with that one. 

Steve, like you, is having a very hard time shutting up just now. He’s in the same web of nervousness that you’re spun up in too. He’s all tangled and trying to weave words that make sense, though everything things his mouth in half-thoughts.

But then he says something so strangely profound out of nowhere, and it makes your pounding heart stop without warning. He’s just talking about fucking tomatoes, but you understand that — in some weird, roundabout way — that it’s much deeper than that.

You’d told him the mundane little detail in passing some time ago. At the diner, when you picked the fruit from your burger with a grimace on your face. You said it tasted like battery acid and tainted everything it touched. He took it back to the counter when you weren’t brave enough to. 

“Here you go, Punchy. Your battery-acid-free burger,” he’d joked when he set the fresh plate in front of you.

And he remembered all that. He tucked that tiny piece of information about you into the very back of his mind so that he could use it to make you happy later on.

That’s adoration at its core, you figure. Somewhere in all those minuscule remember-ings.

“You remembered that?” you wonder aloud in a bemused sort of whisper.

Steve has already moved on. He’s rambling about the broken spout of his cologne bottle but stops the second he realizes he’s doing it.

Of course, I did, scoffs the little voice in his head. I’m sorta obsessed with you, as it turns out.

He doesn’t tell you that, though, for reasons he finds are quite obvious — the most significant of which would be running you off entirely. So instead, he just shrugs and tries to be cool, despite having already established how terribly uncool he is.

“Yeah. I remember everything.”

When the two of you settle at the dining table, Steve realizes he’s eaten most of his dinners alone until now.

His parents stopped caring sometime around middle school. His dad got too busy with work, started staying after-hours to catch up on paperwork or screw his secretary. And his mom didn’t care because she was too busy getting wine-drunk on the phone with whatever book club friend that was just as miserable as she was. 

Steve would fork at his cold pad thai while he listened to his mother’s muffled rant about who went where and who wore a hat.

He couldn’t find it in himself to eat in his room. The empty dinner table was the only sort of stable routine he had in the swirling uncertainty of being a teenage boy.

But now he’s got you. 

He hopes he never stops having you. He doesn’t want to go back to being alone like that again, not after he’s found someone that can fill an entire room with their laugh.

The cackle you let out at Steve’s terrible, terrible cheese pun — “yeah, I guess you could say I cooked this all on my provol-own — echoes through the dining room. Even though he knows you’re laughing at him and not exactly with him, he figures it’s a small price to pay to keep hearing such a heavenly sound.

It reminds him of the real you, the one underneath all the foreign regalia. 

The rays of your usual sunshine peek from the clouds you hide behind. You’re way too bright to stay hidden.

Steve can tell you’re watching his every move. You eye him from across the table with the intent of doing everything he’s doing, lest you might do something wrong. He puts his napkin in his lap, so you put your napkin your lap. He cuts his chicken with his fork and knife, so you cut your chicken with a fork and knife — though you quickly realize you’re not quite as dexterous as he is for all that.

It’s endearing. The kind of cute that makes his heart hurt just a little bit. He hides his smile and happily abandons the conventional things he’d been taught to do. He eats with his fingers and then licks the pads of them, grinning when you giggle and do the same. 

It’s not something he’s used to — grabbing pieces of cut chicken with bare fingers and slurping noodles without having cut them first — especially not when he’s trying to impress a girl. But he can tell the lack of etiquette makes you more comfortable, and that’s all he really cares about.

He offers you another serving once you’ve finished your first. You decline politely with the mutters of “oh, no, I couldn’t,” but he’s seen your appetite. You could down five burgers at the diner and not break a sweat if you’re feeling hungry enough.

It’s one of those little heart-wrenchingly adorable things you do that both shock and enamor him. But, for a reason he can’t name, you’ve decided that part of yourself was too deplorable to add to your costume.

Steve only scoffs at you in response. He scoops more chicken and pasta onto your scrapped-clean plate despite your refusal.

You’re grateful he doesn’t let you get away with your stubbornness. Truth be told, you were still sort of starving.

He’s just grateful you don’t think his mediocre cooking skills total a complete dealbreaker.

Steve tries to fight you when you offer to help him clean up the kitchen. He tells you to make yourself at home on the couch while he tidies up, ushers you to pour yourself a glass of wine and pick out a record while you wait for him. 

But you have issues with authority and take little fondness in being told what to do. So, in true Punchy fashion, you do the exact opposite of what he tells you to do.

You roll up the sleeves of your pretty sweater and stand next to him at the deeply set sink in his kitchen island. “You wash, I’ll dry?” you offer.

He doesn’t argue, only nods. 

He’ll let you take the blame for not wanting to be too far away from him. It’s easier than admitting his own guilt in the matter. ‘Cause sometimes his heart breaks when he blinks and he has to miss you for the faintest fraction of a second. 

“You seriously don’t have to, you know—”

“Stop saying that,” you scold and snatch the dripping plate from his hands. You swipe a towel over the ceramic with a meticulous ease. “I actually like doing dishes, okay? I do them at all time. I’m practically a professional at this point.”

“Yeah?” Steve laughs, shooting you a grin as he dunks his hand into the warm, sudsy water.

You love that stupid smile so much you’ve started to hate it. 

It’s soft and so sincere, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. The gentle grin drips with so much honey you can practically taste it. It’s so tender it makes you feel unworthy, so full of love it fills you with a distant rage that he might’ve looked at someone else with it.

You have to duck away from his gaze before he can catch you blushing. 

“Yeah. That’s, like, my one chore when I’m over at Eddie’s,” you respond with a shrug. “Because, you know, Wayne’s always working and Eddie’s… Eddie, and he really shouldn’t be trusted with anything remotely sharp or breakable, so…”

“What about when you’re home?” he wonders, simply for the sake of keeping the conversation going, but noting how the mention of home makes you tense.

“Uh, yeah. I mean, considering every time I go back, it looks like there’s been a tornado, doing dishes is just one part of the shit pile that I need to clean up, you know? My parents are usually on some bender — or still passed out from said bender — to take care of the place while I’m gone.”

Steve sees how distracted you’ve gotten as you keep wiping down a bone-dry plate.

“But, uh, anyway. Point is, I think I’m destined to have a career as a professional dishwasher.”

When your gaze flits back to Steve’s, he forces a smile at you.

He’s noticed how you always seem to talk about your best friend and his uncle without ever mentioning your parents. He understands now that it’s because they weren’t your family, not like Eddie and Wayne were. The small Munson clan was your home, it seems, and he fights to steer you back that way.

“So, you stay with them most of the time, then?” he redirects innocently as he hands you a freshly washed wine glass.

“Yeah. I think I’m pretty much Eddie’s personal caretaker these days.”

“Wow,” he marvels playfully, wide-eyed and grinning. “On top of being a professional dishwasher? You’re really doin’ it all, aren’t ya, Punchy?”

“Mm-hmm. I am a real jack of all trades, Harrington,” you joke back with a commendable finesse and flash a teasing smile up at him. The pastel-colored lipstick has mostly disappeared from your mouth now. You look more like yourself.

“And Eddie— he’s got this crazy scar on his hand from when he was a kid, and he was helping Wayne wash the dishes. He, like, blindly reached into the water or something and stabbed himself. Knife went straight through his palm.”

Steve winces.

“Yep. Now he says he’s too traumatized to help do the chores,” you reminisce with a distant laugh and set the glass upside down on the drying rack. “I don’t mind, though. I like doing them on my own. Gives me time to think, you know?”

“I’m standing right here,” the boy beside you scoffs, feigning offense.

“You can be the exception, Stevie,” you assure with a grin.

Maybe it’s the look you give him. Maybe it’s the nickname he used to hate, but now makes his heart skip a beat or two — or three. Maybe it’s all those things and the way your fingers brush his wrist when you move to take the pot from his hands. Either way, something shifts and he forgets how to use his fine motor skills.

The pan slips from his fumbling hands and yours and plops back into the water. The metal bangs loudly when it hits the bottom of the sink. Both of you jump back to avoid the splash.

“Shit. Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes scanning your form to make sure he didn’t make a total mess of you.

“It’s okay,” you promise with a gentle laugh and swipe the towel in your hand over your sweater to remove the droplets clinging there.

Steve scrunches his nose. “I feel like I might’ve just ruined my co-dishwashing privileges.”

“Just a little,” you quip.

You give him no warning before bringing the waffle-patterned nettle up to his cheek to dry him off, too. He flinches at the suddenness of the action but melts into your touch without thinking twice.

“You know, you have a pretty cool scar, too,” you tell him, mostly out of the blue, while you dab at the stubble on his jaw.

Steve’s gotten used to all your abrupt mannerisms and the way you flip-flop between topics with an expertise only you seem to possess. He likes that about you, though. There’s never a quiet or still moment when he’s with you.

“Yeah?” he hums back.

You nod and move down to his neck. “I felt it a while ago, during our Night of the Living Dead marathon—” of which Steve has no recollection. He can’t remember a damn thing from those movies, but can still feel the tingle of your mouth against his own. 

“—On the back of your head. Felt pretty gnarly.”

You switch the towel to your other hand and use your free one to swipe through his hair. Your fingers muss at his hour or more of hard work, but your touch is a far better reward than nearly quaffed hair. You weave through the chocolate strands until you reach a marred, barren line.

“Right… there.”

Steve, still buzzing with your touch, manages a breathy chuckle. “Uh, yeah. It’s a… It’s a really long, really stupid story.”

“Wanna give me the short version?”

The grin you give him is impossible to say no to.

“I’m a super klutz,” he summarizes with a shrug and a sloppy grin. 

He mourns the loss of your touch when your hand slips from his hair. “Well, now I have to hear the story.”

“It’s dumb. Like, seriously—”

“I like dumb,” you assure quickly to stop whatever self-loathing he was about to spew. “I’m best friends with Eddie Munson. I think I can take it.”

“Touché,” he chuckles under his breath. The remaining dishes are left forgotten in the depths of the soapy water when he turns his back to him. He leans his weight on the countertop and grips the edges of it in his hands. “You see, I did this really smart thing when I was a baby where I’d, you know, crawl backwards—”

“Crawl backwards?” you repeat with an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah. I’d push with my hands — beep, beep, beep,” he flattens his palms and presses them against thin air to demonstrate it for you. “Always in reverse. I mean, it makes sense, right? You gotta push to move.”

“Sure,” you shrug. A laugh tumbles from your mouth shortly after.

“Did that until I reversed my way down a flight of stairs and hit my head pretty damn good,” he concludes with a wince. It’s like he can still feel the pain sometimes.

“Wow,” you marvel. “So, like… When people ask if you were dropped on your head as a kid, the answer would be—”

“Yep…” he sighs, then laughs when it makes you laugh. He looks over at you with sparkling cinnamon eyes. “It explains a lot, doesn’t it? I think, like, right out of the gate, I’m super confident, you know? But I’m also a total idiot, which is just a brutal combination.”

“I have noticed that, actually,” you confess with a gentle sort of smile.

“Yeah?” he winces.

“Yeah. You do this thing sometimes where you get all… suave and cool,” you tell him, squinting and lowering your voice a few octaves for effect. “Like you’re trying to be King Steve all over again. And then you, like, trip over a stack of DVDs or something because the universe is trying to humble you.”

“That is a… really good way of putting it, actually,” Steve confesses with a laugh.

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Well, the good thing is, I get a big enough thump on my head, I can change, you know? I can learn. So, I guess I’m pretty glad somebody bumped my head before we met. ‘Cause things probably would’ve turned out… a whole lot differently.”

Steve watches your face contort from understanding to confusion. Your manicured brows pinch together and your doe eyes squint over at him. He watches you break down his words in real time. 

“Somebody…” you murmur under your breath. “You mean… Are you talking about Nancy?”

“Yeah, uh… She gave me a— a pretty big thump, you know? Worse than the one I got falling down those stupid stairs,” he tells you with a reminiscent smile. 

It makes you feel like a total idiot, standing in front of him like this — a carbon copy of the girl that tore his heart to shreds.

“I deserved it, though. I mean, you knew me back then, I was a… a total asshole. And sometimes, I think I still would be if she didn’t, you know… if she didn’t… totally rip my fucking heart out,” he concludes with a sad sort of laugh. “Now I’m kinda grateful she did. As bad as it hurt — as angry as it made me — I think, in a lotta ways, it made me better.”

“Better?” you echo quietly.

“Yeah… If she didn’t break up with me when she did — if I didn’t get that dumb thump on my head — I wouldn’t have changed. I wouldn’t be… here right now. With you,” he confesses, revealing more of himself than he ever has before, to a girl he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a couple of years ago.

He looks beside him at this costumed girl — at you — and he sees someone he probably would’ve given the time of day back in high school. The lack of dark, baggy clothing makes you look approachable — like you won’t actually bite him for coming near you like the rumors always said.

And Steve’s self-aware enough to know he probably would’ve treated you like shit back then. He would’ve fucked you just to fuck you, then only talk to you when he needed you to do his homework for him. And you wouldn’t have been the first girl he did that to either, and the thought makes him want to puke.

He’s glad he’s found you when he did. He’s even happier you met him where he was at, in that awkward in-between stage of growing up where you’re trying to be someone different while still finding comfort in staying the same. You never complained even once when he reverted back to his old ways.

And even though you’re standing right next to him, your chest nearly brushing his arm with every heavy breath you take, he finds himself missing you. 

You’re not you — not without the fun outfits and the crazy hair and all your rings that clink together every time you move. He misses how the metal felt against his skin and the way they’d get caught in his hair.

You’re still beautiful like this, but it’s a strange type of beauty. One that both of you know doesn’t belong to you. You fit into it like baggy jeans or a too tight shirt. You’ve squeezed yourself into a ball to try to fit into a world far too small for you, because you thought that’s what Steve wanted.

“I’d still be that King Steve douchebag… Partying every night, getting drunk out of my mind, never settling down like I…” The words get trapped in his throat. He clears it to force them out. “Like I always wanted to, you know?”

“Right,” you murmur, voice not strong enough to be any louder than that.

“So, yeah, I don’t know. I guess, in some weird, roundabout way, I’m just to tell you that I’m not that guy anymore. King Steve,” he admits and presses his hip into the counter to face you fully.

When you gather the strength to look up at him, you find his gaze already dripping with honey and staring down at you. He’s all soft and mushy and twinkling with the adoration he’s got for you. And when he smiles, it’s so terribly sincere and coated with a distant sadness that’s been playing on the edge of his voice this whole time.

“And I know you might still see me as that guy. I don’t blame you. Honestly, I don’t really deserve to be looked at any differently, not after how I acted towards you—”

“Steve,” you breathe out in a tender sigh. “It’s okay—”

He shakes his head to himself. His eyes squeeze shut when his chin falls to his chest.

“It’s not. It’s… It’s really not. I just—” he inhales sharply, chest deflating on the exhale when his gaze turns back to you. He looks sterner now, but still so tender. “I just want you to know that I’ve changed, okay? I am changing. And I don’t want you to think I’m the kinda guy you have to change yourself for.”

When the weight of his words finally hits you, it feels a bit like being punched in the stomach.

It knocks all the wind out of you and makes it hard to think about anything other than the sudden loss of breath. Like a kid who’s fallen off the monkey bars and flat onto their back, you can’t do anything but writhe through the ache and hope you’ll be back to normal soon.

You got dressed that evening thinking you were the master of deception. You perfected your subterfuge and awaited Steve’s inevitable swooning because you looked like all the other girls he’d fallen in love with. 

But he sees through every inch of your pretending with his secret x-ray powers, and now you’re just a stupid girl standing in front of him, soaking wet with embarrassment.

It’s a little like when he and Tommy and all his basketball goons would make fun of you. They’d talk about you like you weren’t there while they tossed tiny crumbled up pieces of paper into your hair so they could watch you struggle to get them out. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because now he’s apologizing, and telling you that he likes you, and that you never had to change a single damn thing for him at all.

You’re equally as self-conscious, though, and feeling like a total idiot for thinking you could even pretend to be halfway normal.

“Oh…” is the only thing that leaves your mouth in that moment. Your mind is still going a million miles a minute. You want to blurt out an apology and an explanation all at once, while simultaneously turning into a puddle at his feet and disappearing entirely.

But rather than break down, you stay standing. Too stuck in your head to feel all there.

Steve seems to notice your trepidation almost immediately. His eyes widen and his brows raise and his pretty mouth falls open to let all of his reassurances spill out. 

“And it’s not that I don’t think you’re pretty! You’re— You’re perfect like this too, but I just…” he inhales and takes the tiniest step closer to you, putting an unsure hand on your waist. “I like you the way you were before. And this isn’t… This isn’t you.”

You blink back stinging tears and turn your gaze to where you toe your Mary Jane’s into the kitchen tile. You go to twist your rings like you always did when you were nervous before realizing you’d left them all at home.

“I just wanted to be like the girls you like,” you confess quietly.

“You are like the girls I like,” Steve corrects with a gentle laugh. “‘Cause I like you.”

Your eyes are all glassy when they flit back up to his. 

Even though you don’t look quite like yourself, the way you look at him hasn’t changed. You still gaze at him like you can see right through the nice hair and the dumb smirks and the stupid persona he puts on when he doesn’t feel good enough the way he is. You look at him like you’re in love with the boy he tries like hell to keep hidden.

The exact same way he looks at you.

“I think I just got a little spooked. Girls like me aren’t supposed to end up with guys like you.”

“I stopped believing in that shit a long time ago,” he admits with the shake of his head. “The whole soulmates-love-at-first-sight thing, it’s all… bullshit. If I’m gonna love someone, I’m gonna do it on purpose.”

Steve watches the lingering sadness in your eyes ebb to something sunnier. Your gaze sparkles and suddenly you’re beaming at him, not bothering to conceal the effect his words have on you. You don’t think you could even if you wanted to.

“I like that,” you murmur in approval, then more loudly proclaim: “Screw soulmates! Let’s start loving people on purpose!”

The two of you laugh about this promise you’ve just made to each other without really saying it to each other. It sort of goes unsaid — if I’m gonna love you, I’m gonna do it on purpose and let’s love each other on purpose. That’s what you mean, and neither of you has to say it out loud because you get it. 

It’s that exact realization that makes Steve’s heart flutter something fierce. Suddenly, the urge to touch you becomes too great to bear. He wants to feel you like he did on the couch of his theater room, when a film he could barely recall crackled in the background because the feel of you was too loud for him to hear anything else.

He needs you like that again, on him and all over him. The ache is a palpable one.

The boy squeezes your waist again, as though to remind you he was still there. Or, perhaps, to remind himself that you were still there —the real thing and not something his brain conjured up.

“It’s not totally insane how bad I want to kiss you right now, is it?” he wonders quietly to you. The low, sultry nature of his voice is not at all forced like it usually is when he’s trying most desperately to flirt with you. His words are just naturally weighed down by his desire for you.

You shake your head in a silent promise, then command through a grin, “Kiss me stupid, Harrington.”

Steve doesn’t waste a second.

He’s been anxiously awaiting his chance to touch you all night. He does so now with a vigor that makes you feel all of that anticipation. With one hand on your waist and the other cupping your jaw, you can feel his buzzing skin as it presses against your own — like the static of a television screen. His fingers settle between the strands of your hair while his thumb absentmindedly rubs along your cheekbone. 

The softness of his touch makes you hum against his mouth.

His lips are familiar like home — more than, because sometimes you think you’ve never really had one. 

There’s never been a cozy, warm, and tender place where you could rest your tired bones. Eddie’s trailer, maybe, but it wasn’t yours. No matter how often you slept within the four walls of his bedroom, no matter how hard you pretended like you’d lived there all your life, it would never belong to you.

But Steve could. 

Steve could be yours.

And you wouldn’t even have to pretend either. It would be for real this time.

His mouth was welcoming and pleasant and gentle, far more than you’ve ever gotten out of four walls and a roof. The plush pink of his lips — the cushion of his bottom one you like to dig your teeth into and the rough pad of his tongue that explores your mouth like undiscovered territory — is perhaps the softest thing you’ve ever known.

Even when he kisses you harder and guides you until your back is pressed against the edge of the countertop, it’s still so, so tender.

Steve’s hands migrate to your hips. His fingers clutch the fabric of your skirt as he cages you against his weight and the counter, as though out of fear you might slip away.

Your touch mirrors his desperate one. You cling to him with a similar intensity, balling the fabric of his navy blue Henley in one hand while you waltz through the pretty strands of his neatly styled hair with the other. You let him kiss you the way he wants to kiss you, keeping your obedient mouth plaint for him while he opens your mouth wider with his tongue.

His touches turn bruising, and yours go soft like summer rain.

Steve holds desperately onto you, like any moment he could wake up and none of this could be real. He kisses you like he won’t ever get to kiss you again, having no idea that you’ve already started to build a home in him. 

Meanwhile, your fingers tips trail like drops of water down his chest and stomach. They settle at his waist, on the top of his belt, and linger along the leather edge of it. You’re not quite sure what to do next — if you should wait for Steve to say something or if you should go ahead and take the lead.

Your sudden hesitation makes him nervous.

Steve’s lips click wetly as they part from yours. He peers down at you through heavy lids, amber eyes swimming with honeyed desire. His lips are pinker now, and swollen from being kissed so ardently. His brows pinch in concern. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t w—”

You barely let him get the words out before you press your mouth to his again. Your hands twist at the collar of his shirt to bring him back down to you. You stand on the tips of your toes to meet him halfway. 

“I want to,” you mumble, practically slurring from being so drunk on his touch.

“I wanna treat you right—” he tries to tell you. Some of his words are muffled against your mouth because you find yourself totally unable to stop kissing him now. “—Take things slow with you.” 

You smack a final kiss to his lips. When his honey eyes flutter open again, he finds you wearing a mischievous sort of smirk. There’s an accompanying teasing glint in your glazed over eyes.

“You can do all that when you’re inside of me,” you promise lowly, bold in a way neither of you are used to. The brazen nature of your dirty words is foreign but no less exciting.

They make Steve’s head get all swimmy and his cock tightens as it stiffens in his slacks. His spine tingles with his borderline overwhelming desire for you.

“Have mercy…” he murmurs within a heavy breath, more to himself than to you.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

And love, is only heaven away...

Steve’s curtains match his wallpaper.

It’s a questionable blue and gray plaid that you doubt he picked out himself. The framed pictures of sports cars only add to the boyish flair of his bedroom. It doesn’t look like him, though. None of it does.

The only real trace of Steve The Hair Harrington is the poster of Christie Brinkley hanging beside his window, diligently placed right next to his bed. It’s a blown-up Sports Illustrated cover — a beautiful, soaking wet woman posing less than effortlessly against a palm tree in all her blonde-haired, blue-eyed, perfected-bodied glory. It’s the most King Steve you’ve ever seen.

All the minute details of his bedroom make you giggle.

“You have great taste, Steve Harrington.”

He grumbles in annoyance at your teasing as he clicks his door shut behind you.

“Well, you can thank my mom for my great taste, okay? She decorated the place when we moved in, like, forever ago. I just haven’t, you know, gotten around to changing it yet.”

“I can tell,” you laugh and turn to him with a smirk. “Really cool bedsheets, by the way. I mean, seriously. This is state-of-the-art design here, Stevie.”

It isn’t until he’s being pelted with your relentless teasing that he remembers he’s got dinosaur-patterned linens spread out on his mattress.

Steve typically likes to alternate bedsheets in between washing them. His plain gray ones would’ve perhaps been more appropriate for times like this, but they were in his hamper along with another set of plaid ones. His dino sheets may be immature, but they’re no less comfortable. It’s not his fault they just happened to fall on the week you were coming over.

“Alright, Punchy—” The boy rolls his eyes and splays two wide hands on your sides, pressing himself into you rather shamelessly. You wonder if the clothed stiffness against your lower stomach is just your imagination. Any other teasing remarks dissipate from the tip of your tongue as your eyes widen.

Steve notices your silence and smiles. “—You wanna keep making fun of me, or do you wanna make out some more?”

“I think we can do both,” you answer with a shrug, resting your hands along his waist. “I’m quite the multitasker, Harrington.”

“Yeah?”

You nod.

“Wanna show me?”

You nod again, smiling wider now.

He smashes his lips into yours again. You meet him halfway. It’s all too easy to fall back into the swings of things — the desperate mouths and longing touches. Maybe because you’re always desperate and longing for him. And, with the way he’s clinging to you now, you figure he must always be those things for you, too.

You relish in all of his little touches, in the duality of them. He cups your jaw so tenderly yet clutches your hip like he’s still trying to discern whether you’re real or not. Then his palms slide around your waist and up your back until he’s all but hugging you. It’s too sweet a gesture for how he’s prying your lips open with his mouth to slip his tongue inside. 

His hands settle, finally, at the very bottom of your sweater. They linger at them hem, not pressuring you to do anything, just waiting for you to make a move. 

You part from him to abide by his unspoken want. Your trembling hands work together to free you from your top. You’re more than grateful to pry the itchy thing off of you.

Steve doesn’t get the chance to admire the bra you wear. He catches a glimpse of frilly lace, but there’s little time to praise your topless form before you’re pulling him into another searing kiss. It’s full of tongue and teeth now, far more hungry that just moments ago. Your fingers slither through his hair and curl in the strands. You keep him firmly locked against you as his lips trail down your neck.

He finds your most sensitive spot in record time — the one just under your jaw, right beside your racing pulse. Your legs nearly give out when his tongue runs over it. A breathy moan exhales from your mouth before you can stop it and you feel him smile against your neck. He doesn’t comment on it, just keeps kissing you there in the hopes that you’ll do it for him again.

You do.

Steve sucks and nips at your delicate skin, and you revel in the feeling of his mouth. Head thrown back, you let him paint your neck in varying shades of red. Some will disappear come morning; others will darken into souvenirs for you to admire for the next few days.

The thought of him marking you drives you nearly as crazy as the feeling of his lips against you. 

You stopped trying to hold back your whines somewhere around ten of them ago. It was easier, you found, for him to kiss you and to let yourself enjoy it than be hyperaware of all the sounds you were or weren’t making. Steve seems to like it when you moan for him, anyway. Every time you do, he kisses you harder, holds you tighter, and hums out his own subtle moans against you.

He digs his teeth into your skin. It makes you whimper. The desperate, high-pitched noise fades into a lower moan when the rough pad of his tongue rushes out to soothe the bite. He moves on to kiss you elsewhere. You shiver when your spit-slicked skin meets the cool air.

You don’t notice that you’ve hitched your leg up his hip until you feel his warm hand on your thigh to hold it up for you. His fingers inch up until the tips of them rest beneath the hem of your skirt.

You don’t bother to hide how much you want him.

He doesn’t bother to hide how badly he needs you close.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he mumbles into your neck, smiling when his words make you whine. “Can I make you feel good?”

You nod when the words get stuck in your throat.

He parts from you for the first time in several minutes. His heavy gaze meets your own. “Can you say it for me?” he asks, not teasing you, just wanting to make sure you want this. Him.

“Want you to…” you start, then swallow when your voice is tighter than expected. You manage the rest through bated breaths. “…to make me feel good.”

Steve kisses you again, a long and thorough stamp on your lips, followed by several tinier pecks. Then his mouth starts its journey down, down, down your body, stopping only to admire your exposed chest. He’s more than pleased to find that what you’re wearing is hardly a bra at all.

It’s a sheer thing with dainty lace detailing. He figures it’s more for decoration than to push up your breasts. There’s no padding at all. Just a pretty tulle number that leaves very little to the imagination.

You watch him intently with a smile, enamored by how enamored he seems to be by a pair of boobs. You never thought yours were much to ogle over, but Steve presses tender, wet kisses to them anyway. He takes the plush between his teeth, sucking on the delicate skin to leave a blossoming bruise there. He only trails further down when he’s satisfied with the mark he’s branded you with.

Steve falls to his knees with a soft thud upon the carpeted floor. The faint sound is much more obvious in the quiet of his bedroom. He looks somehow prettier below you — soft and delicate and sweet like chocolate syrup or marshmallow fluff. But he’s still got this air about him, something stern and domineering, that tells you he’s still got all the power.

He presses a kiss to your thigh, just above the top of your sock, then several more further up. His fingers raise the fabric of your skirt the higher his lips travel. And, strangely, you’re not all that nervous about being half-naked in front of him. It’s hard to be when he’s kissing you like you’re a beautiful thing that deserves to be touched so tenderly.

Steve keeps pushing up your skirt and stills when he reaches the apex of your thigh, right where the top of it meets the joint of your hip.

Your underwear doesn’t match the bra you’re wearing, he finds. It’s orange all over and spotted with bats — the color has faded slightly, like you’d bought them some number of Halloweens ago.

It’s endearing. Everything about you is endearing. Even when you aren’t trying.

“Hold it up for me, yeah?” he asks you with your skirt in his hands.

It shouldn’t surprise him when you do the exact opposite. You step back from him to shove the thing down your legs, then leave it in a pool of forgotten fabric on his bedroom floor when you gravitate towards him all over again. 

His hands rise to your outer thigh and rub soothingly along the warmed skin. You wonder if he can feel the goosebumps pebbling there. The smirk he flashes up at you tells you that he does.

He’s got a twinkle in his eye when he teases you. “Really cute underwear, by the way.”

“I was obviously very prepared for this,” you retort with ease, making fun of yourself just as effortlessly as you can make fun of him.

“I like them,” the boy assures. “I really like them. Very on brand, Punchy.”

“Would you like me better out of them?”

Your arched brow and knowing smirk, kept caged between your teeth, is met with a bemused gaze. Steve’s eyes go wide at your forwardness.

“Uh, yeah— I mean… yeah,” he nods with a breathless chuckle. Then, more sincerely says, “Only if you still want to.”

You scoff at his timidity, though it’s more at yourself than him. “Look at me, Steve,” you answer plainly, motioning to your half-naked form and the damp spot forming in your underwear. “If I didn’t want this, you’d know by now.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, just before pressing a chaste kiss to the black bow of your panties. He noses at the softness of your stomach while his fingers curl around the hem. He tugs them slowly downward, giving you ample time to stop him if you wanted. 

A part of him is still convinced that none of this is real — you, namely. Truth be told, he’s waiting for a smack to the face and a rant about how all of this was just bullshit.

It never comes, though.

Instead, he gets a sheepish grin and a sparkling gaze as you hold onto his shoulder to step out of your underwear. The giggle that spills from your mouth when he tosses them over his shoulder makes him smile. 

Your pussy is as pretty as the rest of you. It’s more manicured than he imagined for a girl as wild as you. There’s a tuft of hair on your pubic bone, cut down and shaved around the edges. It leaves your lips bare and glistening with your accumulating slick.

Steve’s all but salivating at the sight of you.

“You wanna put that mouth to work, Harrington, or do you wanna ogle some m— oh,” you try to tease him, all amused at how he looks like he’s never seen a naked girl before, knowing full well he’s seen plenty. But your taunts evaporate from your tongue when he finally puts his mouth on you. They ebb into a breathy, high-pitched moan.

The tip of his chiseled nose smushes against you while he licks at the rest of your pussy with a practiced tongue. 

It’s more than obvious he’s done this before. Enough to have become a borderline professional at it. He finds your sensitive button within seconds and with minimal effort. Your legs are already buckling, practically turning to jelly, and he’s only just started. 

He latches onto your lips with a swollen pink mouth. His warm, wide hands wrap around the backs of your thighs to keep you steady and anchored against him.

Steve kisses your cunt like he’s making out with you. He opens and closes his mouth in slow, rhythmic motions, rutting his tongue along your glistening skin all the while. He’s sloppy with intention. Every touch is meticulous. He’s trying to figure you out, trying to learn what you like the most and what makes you moan the loudest for him.

Steve’s attentive. He’s ambitious and ardent. It’s like he enjoys kissing you down there, and not like he’s doing you a favor so he can get something in return. He moans against you like it’s every bit as pleasurable for him, as it is for you.

He alternates his efforts while he discovers you like unexplored territory.

You giggled like it tickled you when he stuck his tongue into your cunt the first time, then moaned when his nose nudged your clit. “Your mouth is so good,” you’d praised through bated breaths, but your whines had gotten too quiet for his liking. He opted to give his tongue a break and latch his slick lips to your swelling clit.

You liked it most when he sucked you there. At least, he figures you must, with the way your mouth parts in a silent cry and your hands dart to his hair to push him further into you.

“You like that?” Steve asks you, just to be sure. He pulls enough away so the words are intelligible, but still close for you to feel the vibrations of them against your skin.

“Yes,” you answer in a broken sigh.

Steve barely lets you answer before he’s licking a flat stripe up the length of your pussy. He slows methodically when the tip of his tongue catches your puffy clit, just so he can see your legs tremble. They do, rather intensely so, and he revels in the way your thighs quiver at his temples.

He wishes he’d laid you down before putting his mouth on you. He regrets not getting to spread you open, to part your soft folds with his thumbs, and admire you the way you deserve to be admired. 

But to be under you this way is a reward in itself. To get on his knees for you, to let you grind your hips against his face, it’s heaven. He never wants to stop feeling you this way.

“Please, Steve…” you moan breathlessly. “Please, please, please.”

You plea like it’s a mantra. Your voice grows tighter and tighter the closer you get to your peak. 

Steve’s not entirely what you’re begging for. You’re not either, really. You just know that the pleasure is swelling. The wringing knot in your stomach is close to snapping. The thought alone is borderline overwhelming. You want to run away from the crescendoing feeling and keep it locked against your pussy all at once.

“Steve… Steve, please. I’m— fuck.”

“You can take it,” he promises, speaking the words into your cunt. His lips smack when he pulls away from you, just for a moment to catch his breath. His chest heaves and his tongue darts to graze his bottom lip. “It’s yours, baby. Just take it—”

You’re a goner the second he wraps his lips around your clit again. He suckles there like his life depends on it. Your hips twitch and you tug at his hair when you come, perhaps a bit rougher than you realize. Steve delights in the burn at his scalp. He groans shamelessly into you, a hearty grumble that rolls over every inch of your body.

You make the mistake of looking down at him in the midst of your undoing. You bring your chin down to your chest and open your fluttering eyes to peer down at the boy below you. He’s already looking up at you, you find, with his own bleary gaze. His cinnamon eyes glitter up at you and you melt for him.

Something about the sight of Steve on his knees for you, face snug against your cunt, and gaze lidded with desire makes you keen. Your hips flex, then still against his mouth while you gush for him.

“There you go,” he murmurs against your cunt. “There you go, baby.”

A high moan gets hung in your throat at his praise. It escapes in a delicate cry when your orgasm pummels into you full throttle. You’re whining and terribly sensitive when the buzzing feeling starts to ebb.

Steve laps at your weeping cunt while you writhe. 

He knows to leave your throbbing clit alone now, but seeks to prolong your pleasure in other ways. He gathers the honey you leak from your pulsating hole with an eager tongue and doesn’t relent until you’re twitching away from him. Only when you’re tugging him off by his hair is he satisfied.

Then he goes effortlessly soft again.

He presses little kisses to the burning flesh of your thighs and runs his palms along the backs of them to coax you back to the earth again.

When your cries fade to more contented sighs and your eyes find his again, he smiles sweetly up at you. Too sweetly. He shouldn’t be grinning so tenderly, not when his lips and chin and nose glisten with your slick.

Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hands as he rises to his full height in front of you.

“Was that… Was that good for you?” he wonders, suddenly sheepish like he wasn’t lapping at your pussy a minute or more ago.

“Are you kidding?” you retort, trying to laugh at him. All that comes out is a fatigued scoff. Your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt and you lean heavily against him when his arms wrap around you again. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

That nearly does him in right then.

He leans to press a languid kiss to your mouth. There’s a foreign musk to his tongue now that wasn’t there before. You hum a moan against him when you realize it’s you that you’re tasting.

“Can I suck you off?” you blurt.

Steve freezes. 

There’s hardly a thing he wants more than to feel your warm mouth on his cock. He’s been hard and aching since the second he got you into his bedroom. And that’s exactly why he knows he won’t last.

He usually jerks off before dates for that exact reason. At least, King Steve did because King Steve knew wherever he was going, he was getting laid. He wouldn’t have the reputation he did if he only lasted eight seconds.

He would’ve gotten himself off before you came around, made sure he was able to last as long as you needed him to if he’d expected you to need him at all. But he wasn’t expecting any of this to happen — especially not for you to come against his mouth and ask to give him a blowjob minutes later. 

He didn’t invite you to dinner in the hopes you’d put out after. Call him old-fashioned, but he enjoys spending innocent time with you. He would’ve been more than happy to cook you dinner and kiss you on the cheek before you left.

But here you are, wanting more.

You never stop surprising him.

“I mean, it’s only fair, right?” you shrug at his silence. “You deserve to get off too.”

“You don’t have to. Not just because I did it for you—”

“I’ve been hearing about your dick since the tenth grade. I’m pretty sure I’m the only girl in the class of ’85 that hasn’t seen it. The least you can do is let me give you a measly blowjob,” you confess lowly.

Steve, knocked senseless at your words, starts working his belt off without a second thought. His hands fumble with the buckle while he smirks at you. “Yeah? What have you heard?”

“Oh, you know. The usual,” you answer vaguely and saunter the short distance to his bed. You plop down on the edge of it and lean your weight on your palms. “Just that you have a monster-sized dick and that Marianne from Soc nearly broke it when you took her virginity.”

“That was a rumor!” he defends as he steps out of his jeans. His shirt goes next. He pulls the thing up and over his head with an admirable sort of finesse, leaving his toned torso and hairy chest on display for you. 

“The monster-sized dick or the Marianne from Soc thing?”

He doesn’t entertain with an answer, just drops his boxers and lets you figure it out for yourself. 

His cock is already hard and glowing a faint strawberry color at the tip with neglect. It curves to his right hip and hangs there, weighed down by its own size. The hair upon his pubic bone rises to meet the happy trail on his lean stomach, trimmed slightly but still a bit wild. Tanned skin, heavy balls, and a singular vein that trails like a river from the base to the head — Steve Harrington’s got the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.

You don’t even realize you’re gawking at him because you’re too busy trying to figure out how either could be rumors. You’re looking at beast right now, a wild thing that tiny, little Marianne from Soc certainly couldn’t handle. You’re not even entirely sure if you can.

Steve blanches at your hesitation. He sees you retreat into your head and rushes to bring you back. “Hey, we don’t have to… We don’t have to do this if you do want to. We don’t have to do any of this if—”

“I want to,” you assure quickly, eyes widening when you realize how quiet you’d gone. You can imagine how mortifying it must’ve been, for him to get naked in front of you and be met with total silence. “You just… have the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.”

His concern ebbs to a relieved smile. “Well, thanks for stroking my ego, princess.”

“I would love to stroke something else,” you quip with a playful grin that’s far too proud of such a dumb joke.

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to hide his smile. 

He wants it on record, though, that he’s not grinning at your mindless innuendo. It wreaks too much of Eddie. You both seem to possess a similar sort of humor in that way, in how you can make anything into a joke — particularly a dirty one.

“Thanks for stroking my ego,” Steve would say and Munson would joke, “Well, we both know nothing else of yours is getting stroked, Harrington, so it’s the least I can do.” And Eddie would’ve been right. But Steve would never let him know that.

The boy settles in the middle of his bed and watches with a glittering gaze as Eddie’s best friend climbs between his legs. She spits into her palm and starts tugging at his hard cock with it. Steve isn’t sure of what to do — if he should rub it in this boy’s face or keep this piece of heaven to himself. He decides on that latter when your lips wrap around his leaking tip.

You’ll tell Eddie about all this tomorrow. He’s your best friend, after all — Steve will be doing the same with Robin, no doubt. And that alone is a reward in and of itself.

Getting him into your mouth was easy in theory, but you quickly find that it’s a harder feat than you realized. Steve’s not just long, he’s wide, and the combination makes it nearly impossible to take him fully. 

You pay extra attention to his strawberry pink tip to make up for what you can’t reach. He seems to like that more than anything else. Pearly pre-come leaks from there and you happily lap up his dribbling honey. Steve shudders every time your tongue meets his mushroom tip. His cock keeps drooling for you, so you keep doing it.

You work the rest of him with your palm, made slippery with your spit. Your free hand anchors around his thigh.

The combined effort isn’t something Steve’s particularly used to. 

Most girls choose one or the other. They either try to swallow him whole or opt to use their hands when they know that they can’t. That is, if they even want to suck him off at all. The foreign attention you give him drives him to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

“Hey, we should, uh— we should maybe stop,” he cautions tightly.

You detach from the head of his dick with a soft pop, but keep working him slowly with your palm. Your brows pinch together with concern. “You okay? Is it not… Is it not good?”

“What? No! It’s not— It’s not that. It’s great. That’s the… That’s sorta the problem,” Steve assures with an awkward laugh. “I’m not gonna… I probably won’t last much longer. And if you wanna… you know…”

“Fuck?” you finish for him with a teasing grin.

“Yeah. Then we should, you know, maybe stop now.”

Your hand stills at the base of his cock. Steve can finally breathe without the worry of bursting entirely.

“I mean, we can stop if you want to. You know, no pressure or anything, but… I don’t mind. I was sorta looking forward to you coming in my mouth.”

And how the hell was Steve ever going to say no to that — to you? He’s never denied you of anything before, and with that godawful track record, he wasn’t exactly equipped to start now.

Your mouth wraps around him again. You kitten lick at his tip and moan at the musky taste before sucking at his blushing head.

It feels good — it feels great — but he’s plagued with a lingering worry. 

He wants so desperately to fuck you, more than he needs to breathe, it feels like. But your mouth is too perfect a thing to deprive himself of. He’s scared it’ll take him too long to get hard again, or worse, that he won’t be able to at all. 

The thought of embarrassing himself in front of you, of not making you feel as good as he wants to make you feel, is an unbearable one.

There’s no way he’s stopping you, though. How can he when you’re sucking him off like your life depends on it? Your hand tugs and squeezes at the base of his cock while your tongue laps at his drooling tip. And on top of all that, you moan against him like making him feel good is making you feel good, too.

“Holy shit,” Steve forces through a tightening throat when your tongue dips just below his head to lick where the pale blue vein fades. His neck stretches as he digs the crown of his head into the pillow, revealing all of the pretty tendons you want to sink your teeth into.

“Your mouth is— fuck… Your mouth is fucking perfect, babe, shit.”

All of his little reactions spur you forward. 

You want him to keep praising you. You want to keep making his legs shudder and his hips twitch and his cock jerk in your mouth. So you double your efforts, just to hear more of his pretty whines that get stuck in his throat.

When you duck your head to pay the same amount of attention to his balls, Steve’s a total fucking goner.

His hands, both of which were obediently fisting the bedsheets, immediately dart to your hair when you suck his sack into your mouth. One warm palm cradles your jaw while the other clings to the back of your hand. He doesn’t push you or force you to take him further — he just holds you.

“I’m gonna come,” he grunts before a groan climbs out from his throat. His head falls back again, but he forces it upright a moment later so he can keep on watching you.

His hips stutter when you hum a moan against him.

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he manages through heavy pants. “You want my come?”

You nod with his balls still in your mouth, then pull off of them with a pop to put his cock back in your mouth. 

Steve gives you exactly what you want no more than ten seconds later, spitting several loads of his come onto your tongue. It tastes like what had been leaking from his tip, just a bit saltier and far more potent with so much of it in your mouth at one time.

Steve’s thighs tremble around you and hips buck wildly despite himself until he’s given you everything he can possibly give to you. 

He allows himself only a few moments to relish in the aftermath of his swirling pleasure before reaching for the box of tissues on his bedside table. He rises to his elbows to hand you the napkin when his dick slips from your mouth. 

“Here, you can—” he says, trying to offer you something to spit into. It’s a habit he’d developed after the tenth or so girl refused to swallow.

You’ve already wolfed down his come, though, and wiped the excess at the corners of your mouth with the tips of your fingers. You don’t let a single drop of him go to waste.

All this time, Steve assumed he just tasted bad. He figured that must’ve been why no girl ever swallowed for him — not even Nancy, the only other girl he was ever really serious about. And they were together for two years. On the off chance she ever actually wanted to give him a blowjob, he knew her swallowing his come was totally out of the question.

Steve never minded, though. He was a giver more than he was anything else and he preferred most to finish inside. But now, with you, he sees just how much he’d missed out on. It feels a bit strange and unearthly levels of gratifying.

The boy breathes out a laugh and falls back against the mattress. The tissue falls from his limp hand onto the carpeted floor as he revels in his post-orgasmic haze. With his head still swimming and his legs still tingling, his glassy eyes find the speckled ceiling above him but don’t focus on anything in particular.

“Was that—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he interjects softly. 

There’s no use in asking if you were good or not. Surely, you could answer the question just by looking at him. He’s a puddle of a man in the middle of his bed, pliant and at your mercy.

You giggle and slither in beside him, pressing your mostly bare body into his side. One leg wraps over his own. The warmth of your slick pussy lingers at his hip. You prop your head up with your fist while your other settles along his chest, busying itself with the tufts of hair there.

“That was, like, really good,” you praise with a sheepish beam. You wish you knew bigger words that might be able to describe it better. Really good doesn’t come close to explaining how heavenly it felt to come in his mouth, for him to come in yours. “You certainly lived up to all the rumors, Harrington.”

“You say that like we’re done,” he chuckles at your conclusive tone.

Your eyes flit from his face to his softening cock lying limb on his thigh, then back to his face again. You arch a skeptical brow. “No?”

“Not even close,” he shakes his head defiantly. His honey eyes flit between the both of yours. “I need to fuck you, babe, I just… I need a few minutes. If that, you know— If that’s okay with you…”

“You just give me life-changing head. So, yeah, I think I can give you a couple minutes,” you promise with a playful, but not insincere smile.

Even after having his mouth on you, and your mouth on him, you still like kissing him the most.

No amount of pleasure can sate the feeling of having him so close in this way. There’s nothing equally gratifying as sucking his bottom lip into your mouth or feeling the wet muscle of his tongue running itself over your own. You’d be more than happy to kiss him like this until sunrise.

Steve’s hands stay locked on either side of your head while he pries your mouth open with his own. He’ll occasionally pull back to admire your spit-slick, kiss-bitten lips for a moment or two. Then he’ll flash you a smile, like you’re a piece of finished artwork he’s happy with, before pulling you back down again.

You lean just over him, elbow digging into the pillow beside his head as you rest your weight on your arm. That hand twists itself within the strands of his hair, fingers lazing in the chestnut halo on his head. Your other migrates down his body, touching him with feather-light grazes to coax him hard again. 

His stomach tightens when your nails sweep over the thin trail of hair there. His stiffening cock twitches where it lazes along his inner thigh.

“Top or bottom?” the boy mumbles between languid kisses. His eyes flutter open long enough to catch the brief flash of confusion on your face. You don’t stop pressing your lips to his, even amid your uncertainty.

“Like bunks?”

Steve sputters a laugh against your mouth. He pulls away so he can look at you. “No, like— I meant, do you wanna ride me? Or would you rather lay down?”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry,” you stammer quickly. You figure the question must’ve puzzled you because no guy has ever asked before. This kindness is still a tad bit foreign. “I just— I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. It was cute,” Steve assures with a smile so soft it has to be sincere.

“Um… I don’t— I mean, I don’t know. Is that, like, something you want me to do?”

His right hand leaves your face to find his cock. He wraps his fist around himself, pumping slowly to keep himself hard for you. “It’s whatever you want, okay? Promise. I just thought it might be easier for you if you were on top. So you can take things at your own pace and everything.”

“Yeah,” you affirm within a heavy exhale. You feel yourself growing wetter at the mere thought of being on top of him like that. You nod until the words catch up with you. “Yeah. Okay.”

It isn’t your first time being in this position, but something about straddling Steve’s hips feels foreign. You’re starting to notice that most things you do with him feels that way — new and strange and alarming. Even the most innocent things, the mundane shit you’ve done a thousand times before, it’s all brand new with him.

You twist your hand behind your back to unclip your bra. Steve watches you with wide eyes like you’re doing some sort of magic trick. When you toss the piece of fabric somewhere on his bedroom floor, he spits into his palm to wet his cock.

His eyes flit from his hand, to your glistening pussy hovering just above his lap, to your face. “You can, uh— You can rub yourself on me, if you want. You know, to get it wetter. I don’t have lube or anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m…” you trail off. I’m more than wet, you’d almost said. That felt a little too overzealous, though, so you settle on telling him: “I’m okay.”

“You’re still on the, um, the pill, right?” he wonders, feeling a bit lame for remembering something you’d said in passing so long ago.

You complained once that birth control made you feel crazy. You said it affected your mood so drastically sometimes that it didn’t feel worth it to take. That was weeks ago. A brief conversation you’d left in the Family Video parking lot. 

You nod wordlessly in reply.

Steve holds the base of his cock to keep it steady for you as you pierce yourself with it. 

Taking his blushing head was the easiest part. The sensitive tip slips so effortlessly into you, just bulbous enough for you to feel it but not enough to stretch you out. It’s a Goldilocks just right sort of feeling that has low moans crawling from the depths of your throats.

Down, down, down a couple more inches and that’s when the ache starts to set in.

His girth stretches you in an unfamiliar, but no less satisfying way. As good as it feels, the burning sensation is a hard one to ignore. It’s like a fire, a distant one. It’s sort of like reaching your hand toward a flame while your brain screams at you to not get any closer.

It’s a lot like that, actually.

Your brain cautions you about taking him any deeper than you have now lest he might totally split you in half.

“Sorry— Sorry. I’m sorry,” you sputter suddenly, a little embarrassed that he’s only a couple of inches within you and you’re already having so much trouble. With your chin tilted towards your chest and your eyes squeezed shut, you refuse to meet Steve’s concerned gaze. “It’s just… It’s kind of a lot.”

“It’s okay,” he assures quickly. He rubs two soothing hands along your hips and fights back the urge to thrust further into you. You don’t see the gentle smile he looks at you with your eyes closed. “Take your time.”

A little over a minute and a pep talk later, you finally build up the courage to sit on him fully. Come, you can do it, your inner voice spits at you. Stop being a baby. It’s just a penis, don’t be such a bitch. 

Your face scrunches when you slide slowly down upon him. Steve expects you to stop and take a break for anothera moment like you’d done just before. He’s more than surprised when you try to take him completely.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You don’t have to— holy shit, babe— don’t hurt yourself— fuuuck.”

You breathe out a heavy sigh of relief when he’s finally sheathed within your pulsating pussy. A lazy, lopsided smile makes its way to your lips, delirious with pleasure and pride. 

Both of you exhale faraway moans at the new feeling, heads falling back on their own accord. You’re already more than gratified and you haven’t even moved yet. He’s reaching parts of you that most guys don’t on their best day, making you feel full without trying. Even without his thrusting, the minuscule twitches of his cock are already driving you toward an orgasm.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you ask him suddenly, smiling lazily at the ceiling. 

Steve’s adams apple bobs as he swallows. Then he nods.

“I’m already really fucking close,” you confess with a breathless laugh, face crumbling under the weight of your pleasure halfway through.

Steve chuckles, then groans quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am, too.”

You laugh together and your coinciding embarrassment fades like an ebbing tide. The intimate confessions affirm what you were already more than aware of — that the both of you are just a couple of lovesick idiots who are head over heels for each other and in so far over your heads that you can barely breathe.

You’re spurred on by the sight below you. Steve’s wild hair and amber eyes and swollen pink mouth make you ravenous. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, looking like the sight of you makes him hungry too, as you start to grind your hips over his lap.

He guides your rhythm with two wide hands on your hips. Your pace is slow, every roll of your hips is experimental, and he revels in every second of it.

You start by rocking back and forth over his lap, then by moving in small circles to add stimulation. When get more confident, you lift yourself up and down over his cock. He’s able to hit your most sensitive spot that way. Steve seems to like it too, because you feel the subtle jerks of his responsive cock.

He accommodates your every move — thrusting his hips in time with your bouncing, then flexing them to reach as deep as he can within you.

“That’s it…” Steve murmurs, mostly to himself. He’s not exactly trying to praise you, but his words send lightning strikes of pleasure to your pussy anyway. He keeps babbling to himself. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Just like that…”

You support yourself with your palms on his hairy chest when you double your efforts on top of him. Steve groans at the lewd sound of your slick thighs clapping over his lap every time you move down on his cock. Your cunt quickly drenches his lower stomach and the small thatch of pubic hair just below it.

You too easily forget that fucking is a marathon and not a sprint. 

You overexert yourself quickly in your attempt to rush toward an orgasm and the effects of your sudden fatigue make your legs feel numb.

“Sorry,” you apologize breathlessly when you’re bouncing slows to a stop. You collapse to your elbows, nose nearly grazing Steve’s, as you swivel your hips slowly over his lap. You try to laugh at yourself. “My legs are just getting a little tired… I haven’t done this in a while if you couldn’t tell.”

Steve smiles sympathetically up at you. His hands leave the plush of your hips to cradle your jaw. He gazes at you with a stern sort of gentleness. “Stop apologizing. You’re good,” he promises, then pulls you softly down to peck your mouth.

He rolls his hips up into you and grunts when it makes you whine. “So fucking good…”

Steve tells you to tuck your knees further up his torso and you obey without thinking. You tuck your face into his shoulder and let him cradle the back of your head with one hand while the other settles on your ass. 

He grips you there rather shamelessly, fingers digging into your plump skin, while he bends his knees behind you. He plants his feet on the mattress and thrusts up into you without warning. 

His pace is already a relentless one, having no need to work himself up to a rapid pass as you had. Being basketball team captain has done wonders for his stamina, it seems. He drills up into you and keeps drilling into you without tiring. 

He keeps you securely pressed against him all the while and you relax into his embrace, happily letting him fuck you in his own delicious rhythm as he’d done for you.

The new position stimulates you from all angles. Steve’s hard cock pounds into your weeping pussy. Your swollen clit catches the coarse hair on his taut stomach with each of his thrusts. Your pebbled nipples drag along his furry chest.

It leaves you a whining, writhing mess on top of him.

“You like this?” he murmurs in your ear through broken pants. 

He’s partly teasing you. He knows you mustlike what he’s doing to some degree because you’re moaning something fierce into his neck, peppering too sweet kisses in between your pretty whines. But he also wants to know that you like it. He wants to hear you say the words.

He feels you nod against his shoulder. “Yes...” You sigh, then whimper. “Yes, yes yes—”

“I knew you did,” he affirms. You can hear the smile on his face. You’re not sure if he’s mocking you or not. You’re not sure if you particularly care either. 

His stubbly jaw grazes your cheek when he turns his head to press a kiss to the burning skin. “Knew you’d like it… Takin’ my dick like a fuckin’ champ, babe.”

“Wanna be good for you,” you confess against his sweat-slicked skin, your voice high and wet like you’re close to crying.

Steve tugs at your hair, not enough to hurt you, just enough to pull you from the refuge you’d sought in the nook of his neck. He finds that your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, brows pinching and swollen lips softly agape. His amber eyes are just as wild, heavy with hunger.

“You are good for me, baby,” he promises and seals it with a searing kiss to your wet mouth. He means it in more ways than one and prays you understand. “You’re so good for me… Fucking perfect, babe— shit—”

His cock twitches in your snug slick when you clench around him. He tightens the grip he’s got on your ass and spreads you wider to pound harder into you. You hope his scorching touch will leave bruises come morning. You want to remember how it felt to have him touching you this way.

“Steve…” you sigh, helpless.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gonna…” you start, then whimper when you feel the familiar pleasure start to crescendo once more. It takes a moment for the words to return to you. “I’m about to come.”

“Touch yourself,” he blurts.

Your lidded gaze widens. You peer down at him, bemused by his sudden request. “Huh?”

“Touch yourself for me,” he repeats, groaning when the request makes you tighten around him. “Want this to be good for you, too.”

He says this like you’re not already in heaven. You listen to him anyway, though, and squeeze your hand between your slick bodies to find your sensitive button. You rub at your clit until your thighs tremble around his waist. You try your best to ride through every bolt of lightning the pleasure shoots down your spine, despite the distant fear that you won’t be able to weather them.

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises lowly. “Keep rubbing your clit for me…”

Your free hand stays locked in his hair. Your grip tightens within the chocolate strands as you near your peak. Steve revels in the ache, groaning into your shoulder when the burn at his scalp spreads. 

You’re already gut-wrenchingly close. You can feel the coil in your belly tightening, a struck chord crescendoing — and then Steve changes the angle of his hips. He flexes them suddenly and his thick cock probes something much deeper inside of you. Something that’s never been touched before — not by another guy or a toy or you.

It’s tender, and much more sensitive than your clit. Your vision strays for a brief moment as a white-hot flame of pleasure makes you jerk against him. You gasp sharply, then forget how to breathe when a moan gets caught in your throat. Your hand stills between your slick bodies as you freeze on top of him.

The wet cry finally spills from your mouth after several long seconds. It’s as long and delicate and wet as the orgasm you gush around Steve’s cock.

The flame burns red hot just before you come, then turns to simmering embers when your cunt numbs from the intense pleasure. You blink, and suddenly the fire is burning blue. The rest of your body becomes a casualty to the inferno.

“Yeah? Is that the spot, baby?” you hear Steve wonder. He murmurs the words in your ear, but you don’t hear them. They sound muffled and far away. 

You hope he doesn’t expect you to answer. You’re not entirely sure if you can form words anymore, or any actual conceivable thoughts. All you can do is suffer through every overwhelming wave of your orgasm that leaves you a crying and convulsing mess on Steve’s lap.

“Holy fuck—”

The boy slams his hips against you with a final, dense clap that sounds deafening in the quiet of his bedroom. Your gushing and fluttering cunt milks his cock. The feeling of your weeping pussy and the sound of your pretty whines throw him headfirst into his own orgasm. His thrusts still as he twitches within you. A moment later, you feel the subtle tingle at the base of your spine when he spits his come inside of you. 

His come paints your welcoming, rippling walls. It’s warm, like the first sip of coffee in the morning or fuzzy socks on cold feet. It blankets you in a sinful comfort.

Steve noses at your cheek while he rides the high of his climax. He rolls his hips slowly into you, much softer now that his cock has grown so sensitive. He clamps his mouth shut between his teeth to stifle his too loud moans and desperate whines. They’re forced to crawl from his throat as suffocated grunts.

You mourn the loss of not seeing his face while you’re tucked so securely into the nape of his neck. It’s a work of art you can imagine so clearly — his pinched brows and scrunched nose and parted lips. But you relish in the searing hold he has on you now, happy to hold and to be held.

The shuddering is slow to subside, especially from you. The aftershocks of your orgasm keep your hips spasming over his lap. Steve groans into your shoulder every time your pussy quivers around his softening cock.

And then the two of you just lay there. You hold onto each other and try to catch your breaths. With the both of you covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your skin sticks together with every tiny movement. The feeling of it makes you smile. You feel like the two of you really are melting together.

Steve’s fingers part from your wild strands of hair and take to tracing the expanse of your damp back. You hum in contentment at the feeling, nuzzling your nose up and down the right side of his neck. 

The moment is melted ice cream and early morning rain and marshmallow fluff. It’s spring mornings on the porch and warm breezes in the fall. It’s a soft and familiar thing that’s still so, so new.

You think you could spend forever here, if you had to. In Steve’s bed and in Steve’s lap and with all of Steve’s languid touches.

But sex is different when you’re an adult. 

When you’re a teenager, you get to be irresponsible. Carelessness sort of comes with the territory. You have sex in a dirty bathroom of a bar you snuck into and don’t think twice about the implications of any it. But as an adult with bills and a nine-to-five and groceries you’ve got to get once a week, all you can think about is how inconvenient a UTI would be.

“I should probably use the bathroom,” you murmur, already grieving the loss of his touch before you’ve even parted from him. 

You leave the safety of his neck to peer down at him. His heavy lids mirror your own. 

“I have this thing where if I don’t piss after sex, I feel like I’m gonna be, like, cursed or something. Kinda like when you break a mirror and you’re stuck with shit luck for seven year— or however that dumb superstition goes,” you ramble, voice heavy with fatigue and lingering pleasure. “Anyway. Yeah. Plus, I should probably clean up, too.”

Steve breathes out a laugh at your sudden prattling but humors you nonetheless.

Somehow you manage to pry yourselves off of each other — you, feeling significantly emptier without him inside you and Steve, already shivering with the lack of your warmth all over him. 

You separate just long enough for him to wet a washcloth in the sink while you piss just a couple feet away from him. The bathroom connected to his bedroom seems to be a foreign sight for you — a least, that’s what he assumes because you rave so enthusiastically about it the entire time. 

It’s all Steve’s ever known, though, so he finds it difficult to do anything but nod along with your rambling. More than anything, he’s glad you’re not as weighed down by the domesticity  of the moment as he is. Because he, for one, feels a little like he’s been hit by a freight train. 

Perhaps spending so many years all alone has made him sensitive to closeness.

You sit on the marble countertop and rest your forehead on his shoulder while he cleans you up. He runs the warm cloth along your delicate folds and wipes away traces of your slick and his come that glisten on your thighs. He pleats the rag and does the same to his softening cock and surrounding skin. 

It feels so strangely intimate, more than the sex somehow.

Steve tugs on a fresh pair of boxers and gives you a faded Hawkins Phys. Ed tee to change into. The loose fabric and baggy fit feels much more familiar than the costume you’d initially arrived in. He might be happier than you are, though, to finally get to see you in your most natural state — makeup sufficiently smudged away and ill-suited clothes forgotten on his floor. 

You crawl beneath the mussed navy comforter of his bed and smush your face into his pillow. “See? The dino sheets aren’t so bad, are they?” the boy teases when you hum in contentment. 

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he settles in beside you.

You smile but don’t open your eyes. “I’m just sleepy… Sue me.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock, grandma.”

“It’s your fault,” you argue, voice dripping with exhaustion. Your skin purrs as he reaches blindly beneath the covers to rub his palm along your forearm.

He grins softly to himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You wore me out, Harrington.”

“I’ll make it up to you in the morning, ‘kay?” he promises, then laughs when you smirk and raise your brows — eyes still shut. “Not like that, you perv. I was talking about breakfast. I make a mean scrambled egg.”

You tell him you’re looking forward to it, to breakfast in bed and breakfast in bed. He falls further for you somehow, despite his lingering disdain for your silly little innuendos. It’s the price you have to pay when you love someone, he figures, like when your crush gets a bad haircut or has shit music taste. 

It’s a quirk he welcomes along with your many others — your rambling and forgetfulness and social unawareness and inability to sit still. All your little idiosyncrasies weren’t obstacles he had to get over to love you, just more reasons for him to.

And it isn’t this one-sided thing, either. Most people would look at the two of you — at the dowager king and local freak — and they’d think he was doing charity work to love you. But Steve’s got peculiarities of his own. 

His best friends are a fourteen-year-old nerd and a closeted lesbian because they were the first two people in his life that didn’t judge him. He chews on the ends of pens and pencils, and his handwriting is shit because he never cared about school. He buys things without ever looking the price tag, then leaves them to collect dust in his room because he never really needed them anyway. He still feels the need to be the center of attention sometimes because the faintest hint of disregard makes him feel neglected.

These are all things you’re aware of. Most of them came with being the wealthy, popular kid from the right side of the tracks. And you liked him anyway — no, you liked him because of them. You adored him through all the heavy shit, and here he was, doing a shit job at pretending to like metal music and horror movies.

“Are you asleep?” Steve wonders after a few moments of velvet silence. He’s still looking at you, one arm propped beneath his hand and the other toying with your fingers splayed on the mattress between you. He hasn’t been able to stop looking at you.

“Almost,” you mumble in response.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Your heart stops at the innocent question, tired eyes flying immediately open and knocking you out of your fatigued stupor. 

All of a sudden, it’s 1984 again. You’re the weirdo who bites people and Steve’s royalty who’ll fuck anything that walks — and here you are, in bed with the asshole. For a moment, you expect Tommy Hagan to bust out of the closet with a tape recorder and for Steve to tell you this was all just some stupid bet.

It’s a pang of blue lightning, an ice pick to your abdomen, that lasts no more than a couple of seconds. 

Internally, you curse yourself for getting so worked up. You make a promise to yourself to work on all that — the regressing and the disbelief that comes with the not-feeling-good-enough bullshit.

“Yeah?” you finally answer.

“I don’t actually like Dio. Or Def Leppard,” he confesses, finding it hard to meet your gaze  like a child who’s been caught in a lie. He focuses on running his thumb over the irregular pattern of your chipped nailpolish. “And I don’t collect vinyls either, not really. I just… I kinda just said those things so you’d like me.”

And, compared to the web you were just spinning in your head, that’s nothing.

“Ooh,” you wince playfully. “Def Leppard I could take, but Dio? I don’t know… That might be a dealbreaker, Harrington.”

He only smiles because he can tell you’re making fun. “I could learn to like them, you know? If it means that much to you. That’s what we’re doing now, right? Loving things on purpose?”

You capture your smile with your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes sparkle at him when you nod. “Yeah… We are.”

“Which means you could learn to like football and Bruce Springsteen,” Steve jokes and shifts on the mattress so he’s closer to you. 

Your feet bump together, then entwine effortlessly. He plops his head on the same pillow you’re using. The proximity leaves your faces no more than a couple inches apart. 

You scrunch your nose, wondering if you should hide your disgust in his playful request or make a joke out of it. You don’t do either. “I could… If it means I get to keep you.”

“Keep me?” he scoffs. “Good luck, getting rid of me, Punchy.”

“Who said I wanted to, huh?”

“You will. When you get sick of me.”

He’s smiling like he’s kidding, but you can tell there’s an edge of self-loathing to his tone. 

Your hand crawls from beneath his own and settles on his stubbly jaw. You run your thumb over the cheek, effectively sealing your promise into the blushing apple of it. “I’m never gonna get sick of you, Steve Harrington.”

His brows raise. “No?”

You shake your head against the pillow, then shove the side of your face further into it when you get nervous. There’s a timid quirk to the corners of your lips and a more sheepish glint in your eye. “You don’t get sick of people you love,” you tell him.

Steve opens his mouth to retort. He wants to tell you that he gets sick of Dustin all the time, but that it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love the little shit. He gets sick of milkshakes and pizza and Cheers re-runs when he consumes too much of them in a single setting, but he loves all those things too. 

You get sick of things because you love them, he reasons, because you love them too hard and you hate how much you need them.

He doesn’t get the chance to argue any of this, though.

“Not when you love them on purpose,” you clarify with a sunshine-coated grin.

That shuts him up real quick.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stevie oneshot #st oneshots #punchy x steve

[sinsandsweetness]

okok how do you feel about rickyl, with subby daryl, but reader and rick just sit there and mock him and overstimulate him until he snaps and then suddenly who’s the one being mocked? not daryl.

at the end he’s like “yeahhhh you’re never topping me again.”

or you can do this however you want? subby daryl or not, your amazing writing abilities will bring this to life no matter what.

bby anon

I love subby Daryl so….

18+ under the cut

The two of you have been taking turns working him till it physically hurt. Toned muscles twitching in front of you, while hot, wet gasps leave his throat as he tries to push your head away. Way too sensitive after the second orgasm you’ve already pulled from him. And for some reason, you aren’t stopping. But you’re only following Rick’s orders. It’s not your fault. You’re just doing as daddy says. And daddy says to keep going. To make Daryl come again.

So you do what you’re told, despite the fingers curling in your hair and tugging hard enough to earn a pained squeak. Rick notices from behind you, and pauses mid thrust, grabbing Daryl’s hand and smacking it away.

“Hands to yourself, sweetheart.”

Ricks own hands resume their grip on your hips, drawing your ass back onto him as he fucks you. Hard and deep and starting to near your own orgasm.

But despite the fire burning in your belly, the boy in front of you remains a damn mess. Fisting the sheets as little whimpers leave his lips. Unable to control the sounds pouring out of him when you moan around his cock. And even though he’s had this whiny attitude since after first release, his hips still buck up into your throat, desperately chasing yet another, blissful orgasm.

“Thought you said it was too much, Daryl? What happened to that, huh?” Rick mocks the man squirming around in front of you. His words fuelling a death glare that would make anybody who wasn’t lucky enough to be in the same bad as him right now, scared for their freakin’ life. But fortunately for you, the only scary thing about your situation is what Daryl plans to do to you when he gains control again. When Rick’s not there to boss him around. And the very thought sends butterflies to your core.

“Gonna- ugh,” Daryl moans, hands going to your hair despite the previous orders to keep them to himself. Pulling you down to take the whole of his length as he shoots his load down your throat. Warm, salty cream oozinng out of the corner of your mouth as you struggle to take all of him. Swallowing as much as you can while feeling the man’s abs contract and twitch under your touch. The heavenly sound of both him and Rick groaning, echos in the room.

Finally, you come up for air, letting out the tiniest cough as your hand comes up to wipe your mouth. Immediately met by Daryl sitting up, his lips catch yours. An attempt to distract you from the fact that you hadn’t been told to stop yet. To momentarily end the torture that you and Rick were inflicting upon him as punishment for his uncalled for, grumpy attitude earlier that day. And though he probably wasn’t done yet, upon seeing Daryl’s completely fucked out state, Rick lets it slide.

The three of you fall back onto the bed, everyone breathing all heavy, catching your breaths. Daryl’s eyes are noticeably glossed over and hazy as you tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. Worried maybe the two of you took it a little too far. But Rick remains unfazed, turning to face you both with a shit eating grin on his face, “Think he learned his lesson yet?”

#rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #rickyl x reader smut #rick x daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #Daryl Dixon x reader #Daryl x reader #Rick x reader #Rick grimes x reader #Rick x y/n #rickyl daydream #rickyl imagine #rickyl Drabble #rickyl oneshot #T’s daydreams <3 #Rick x you

[mandomaterial]

I LOVE your Miguel x Reader fic so much! Can we please get another Miguel x Reader where they are complete opposites again, but she isn't use to seeing a scary/violent Miguel. So when she finally sees him like that she gets a little scared and Miguel has to reassure his little angel that he would never behave this way with her. Fluff please because i love your fluff fics!

OFC BBY! I changed it a little so that reader didn’t only see it but also experience it, yk? U’ll see :3 I hope you like it pookie!

Miguel scaring and accidentally hurting you

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✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You were on your way to visit your boyfriend of a few months at work, with a little Tupperware box of fresh cookies in hand, you knew that he was Spider-Man and you knew all about the spider-verse. You also knew that Miguel worked very hard to keep the society intact and that it put an immense strain on his mood and health.

He’d come home all grumpy and annoyed, just wanting to cuddle you to death, he wouldn’t even let you get up to make him some food or treats, so today you decided to bring him something to cheer him up. You’d made a variety of cookies, some frosted and others shaped like animals and stars, to some people it might seem like something from a kids birthday party where a trottle ran off with the sprinkles and went crazy with them but it was just how you liked to bake. You knew that some people thought you were weird for dressing in bright colours and having fun hairstyles, sometimes older people would whisper when you walked past them but you didn’t mind, to you the worst possible thing would be being called normal or plain. You didn’t let anyone stop you from buying or making the clothes you thought were cute and today you decided to show off the new skirt you made. You spent all of last week sitting at your desk with your sticker covered sewing machine, securing the fabric and hemming the edges.

It was truly adorable and you loved how it framed your butt and thighs! You matched it with the off white cashmere sweater that Miguel gifted you after only two moths of dating. He knew that you liked cute things so he had little bows added to the sleeves and it warmed your heart every time you thought of his attentiveness. You packed the cookies into a little shoulder bag and set off.

It didn’t take long for you to get to the main office and there you almost crashed into Jessica who you always enjoyed having a little chat with, you always asked how her baby was and if everything was going as planned at HQ, but today she decided to give you a little warning, Miguel had been a little agitated and stressed today, because Gwen got stuck in a mess and brought back a Teenage boy who was never supposed to know about the Spider-verse and how said boy was causing a bit of trouble. You thought nothing much of it and continued looking for him.

Your first stop was his main office, to be honest it looked like the bat cave, with a floating platform that was his favourite. It always made you giggle when you compared Miguel to batman, but he wasn’t there, so you decided to just walk around and see if you’d find him, when you suddenly heard a loud bang. Instinctively you whipped around, running to a large window and what you saw shook you to your core.

It was thousands of spider people chasing after what seemed to be a small figure in a black suit, it was a sight that you’d never seen before, was everything alright? Was that an anomaly? Why were so many chasing it? Millions of thoughts rushed through your head as you sprinted down the stairs to the ground floor to get a better look, but everything was moving so fast that you lost sight of them as that disappeared behind another building.

You rushed through the halls, trying to catch up with them and somehow you ended up in the room with the go-home machine, all while everyone was surrounding Miguel and the young boy who was in the midst of being “sent home” and Miguel had his talons dug into the electric walls of the capsule, almost tearing it apart while growling and yelling. You’d never seen him like this, as if he were a feral creature hunting its prey with cruel intent. Your body started shaking a little as you took a small step back, maybe this was a really bad time. In that moment the capsule fully closed itself, sending the teen home and leaving Miguel seething with rage, ready to demolish anything he got his hands on, when he suddenly noticed his wach showing signs of an anomaly or something that wasn’t supposed to be at headquarters standing only a couple meters behind him.

Without a second thought and with pure rage and will for distraction Miguel lunges backward, his vision blurry with fury as he sunk his claws into the floor, propelling himself closer and closer to his new victim. All the while you didn’t even have time to think, fear filled every fiber of your already tensed body, he made the decision in split-seconds, not even realizing that it was you, his partner, as he rushed closer to you. You started stumbling back, screaming his name, but nothing helped clear his mind. Miguel stretched out his right arm, talons out as far as they could go, ready to tear you to shreds.

His usually gentle fingers wrapped themselves tightly around your neck, nicking you and squeezing tight, you felt him almost crush your throat but that wasn’t the end of it. Miguel flexed his arm, lifting you up into the air and just as he was about slam you down with all his force, he had a moment of clarity, his heat almost stopped as he recognized your face, albeit it was contorted in ear and pain. He noticed how tight his grip on your neck was and how you were scratching at his hand for a single breath, as he cut off your air way. His eyes widernd, fear and regret washing over him. Instead of glamming you to the ground, he quickly let go of your neck and pressed you to his chest. He felt your tears wet his suit and he heard you cries. Your cries were pain filled and your voice hoarse as he tried to comfort you by rocking you back and forth gently. He knew that it was his fault. What had he done? What if you never wanted to see him again?

He did something he swore to never let happen. He hurt you. He made you fear him. Miguel commanded everyone to leave, so that the two of you could calm down and as soon as it was only the two of you, he collapsed to his knees. It was like your tears were never ending and your fingers weakly grabbed onto him, barely able to hold on as you hid your face in his chest.

“I’m sorry…” Miguel whispered, his voice cracking as he continued muttering “I’m so sorry.. please forgive me.. I didn’t mean t-to…” he whimpered, but it was like you didn’t hear it, way too caught up in the scenario that played out just minutes ago. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you were hyperventilating, not being able to calm your breathing. Minutes passed and Miguel was still rocking back and forth, as if comforting a crying child, the horrid scenes kept replaying in his mind and he didn’t know how to make it better.

Your cries slowly turned to whines and hiccups, you moved around in his lap, trying to find a comfortable position when he gently lifted your chin to look him in the eyes, he opened his mouth but said nothing for a few seconds until he finally whimpered “I love you, you know that, right?” He pulled you into a close hug, not even waiting for your response, he squeezed you as close to him as he could, his anger long gone. “P-please don’t leave me…” he continued, he sounded utterly broken and that only made you shed more tears, you didn’t want to be sad, you didn’t want him to be sad, this was just a stupid accident right? He didn’t mean it…

You nodded a little and tried to speak, but nothing audible came out, only whimpers and whines. Miguel pulled the two of you apart, gently placing his large hand onto the crown of your head, carefully lacing his fingers between your hair as he looked at your little form that was dwarfed by his own. “It was and accident… please forgive me…” he muttered as his eyebrows scrunched together in regret. You replied with a little nod, your lower lip still wobbling a little. Miguel caressed your hair a bit before moving lower to your neck, he pushed your hair back and revealed a couple red scratches going almost all the way around. He felt so ashamed that he’d hurt you, that he was the cause of your pain. Ge gently brushed his fingers over them and you let oust a little wince. He’d take you to the med bay right after this, he promised.

Only then did he notice what you were wearing, first he looked at the sweater. It was the one he had custom made for you, when he saw it in the store window he thought about how’d you look like a fluffy baby alpaca in it and he just had to get it for you. He touched the soft fabrics and slid his grand down your arm, intertwining his fingers with your slender ones. Next he noticed the skirt, ha hadn’t seen it in your closet or anywhere else?. Did you buy it? No it fits too well for that… you probably made it. He couldn’t help but let a soft smile cross his face. The room was almost silent so he tries to shift your attention to a different topic “Did you make this?” He gently rubbed the b fabric between two of his fingers.

You looked around quite confused for a moment until you found what he was talking about, you rubbed your eyes a little and gave him another nod “y-yea, i finished yesterday.” Your voice was barely audible and littered with hiccups.

“It’s cute” he replied, placing his hands on your hips and shifting your body so that you were sitting sideways on his lap with your head leaning on his pec. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled closer, almost purring. You liked sitting like this, on his lap and utterly surrounded by him, it made you feel small and soft, like a precious delicate possession of his.

You could feel how worried he was, it washed off him like waves and you wanted to make him feel better, so you cupped his jaw and whispered “I’m okay Miguel, you didn’t hurt me” as soon as he heard, you could almost physically hear the stones dropping from his heart and his spirit lifting. The two of you were definitely feeling better but there was still a bit left to talk about, so Miguel decided that it was time to leave. He rose to his feet but kept you in his arms, you rolled over a little and decided to play with his hair as he walked out of the now silent room. Your fingers wrapped themselves around the little short curls at the back of his neck, it was one of your favourite parts of his hair because it was so much more curly than the longer pieces.

Miguel felt your little fingers and could stop the lopsided smile that formed on his face, sure he still had work to do, but to be honest, for once in his life, he didn’t care. He’d do it tomorrow and surely get an ear full from Jessica.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Once Miguel stepped through the doorway a long sigh left his chapped lips, he still felt quite bad about what happened today, but he knew that you’d forgiven him and that you weren’t upset. You fell asleep in the car, so he decided to be the good boyfriend he was and carry you up to his penthouse. You often slept over at his place because you liked the big windows and loved his comfy king sized bed. Normally you fell asleep earlier than him and once he got to bed, he’d find you in your cute pink jammies, laying starfish with one of your legs over the blanket and the pillows long thrown off the sides. He couldn’t help but snap a little picture, you were just too adorable.

So now he careful layer you down on the side you preferred to sleep on. He took off your socks and reached under your shirt to unclasp your bra and pull it off you so you wouldn’t wake up in pain, before covering you with his blanket. Once you were tucked in, he strode over to one of his cupboards in the bathroom and pulled out one of the first aid kits (he has multiple stocked) and pulled out a salve. He rummaged around further until he found your favourite bandaids, the ones with the cute shapes on them and walked back to his bedroom.

You were sleeping soundly as he sat down right next to you, careful not to dip the mattress too much, he gently stroked your hair back so that he could tend to the little wounds on your neck. Guilt shot through him again once they were revealed, t be honest they weren’t even that bad, but he knew how sensitive to violence you were and he knew that the scare was probably worse than the pain. Nevertheless he dipped his fingers in the salve and started softly rubbing it over the red marks and covered them with the bandaids after. After a few minutes he was satisfied and snuggled up to you, making you the little spoon, he wrapped his arms around your wast to pull you close. And just like that, all cuddled up, the two of you fell asleep, meeting again in your dreams.

#Miguel #miguel x you #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader angst #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader fluff #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara #Miguel ohara fluff #Miguel O’hara fluff #Miguel x reader angst fluff #miguel x reader fluff #spiderman #atsv #x reader comfort #x hurt reader #Miguel hurting reader #Miguel scaring reader #reader scared of Miguel #how do i tag thisss? #Miguel O’hara chasing reader

[blacknidstang]

Bro the post about after school special and dean doing everything for sam to see him as a cool brother and eventually prefers to just hang out with Sam literally hurts me down to my core. There was rven this moment where the girl dumps him and she's like "the way you are your brother made me think you are very caring etc etc" like GOD. and like, dean IS a cool boy. He is really fun to hang out with. In later seasons he is the one having all the friends while sam's bonding with one weirdo who dies next. Dean is a genuine delight to be around and i really believe that, he could have any friend he wants, he could have any girl to spend time with and he STILL chose to be around his scrawny little nerdy brother. It fucking hurts how much of dean's world sam occupies. Even later on. Sam could tell dean "you are so scared of being alone so you do fucked up things to keep me alive" and like, is it insane that even with every other friend dean has he still would be left with unbearable amount of loneliness when sam is gone?? Even lisa couldnt fill that gap??? He lefit tried to replace sam with cas like two episodes pretending he doesnt even want to be around sam and both times he was eventually was like "ok back to being locked in a room with sammy"

Like i think it's wonderful that dean has all the other bonds and i think people genuinely deeply love dean and want to have him around (I'm one of those people) and still dean would ditch everyone and hang out with SAM. Crazy crazy crazy

#spn #sam&dean #it makes me sad and sick bc dean is so full of love for sam and its fucking ridiculous

[sweetnothingtm]

teachers pet// simon riley x reader

pairing simon riley x reader

word count 1200

content warnings none - entirely fluff and self-indulgence

authors note domestic simon. domestic simon. domestic simon. domestic si-

summary simon notices you leave your lunch at home, and what better way to meet your second-grade class than to surprise you?

truthfully, simon riley had never considered having children.

it’s a lot of time, commitment, and patience that he didn’t have. simon thought he’d live the rest of his life comfortably alone and worry-free.

until the day he met you.

you taught him how to smile. gentle, patient and kind, you became the home simon thought he’d never have. with a voice soft like honey, and eyes sparkling with adoration, simon fell head first and hopelessly in love with you.

he doted on you - spoiled you rotten to the core and did so without a moments hesitation. he never saw himself as the type to be so smitten, so pathetically entangled with the idea of you being his, but you clicked together like a puzzle piece.

you’re an elementary school teacher, with a class full of twenty-two little rascals who were too curious for their own good. you had a job at the same school johnny’s little boy attended, a second-grade teacher with a bubbly personality that attracted even the worst of people. like him.

he met you on an august afternoon, your hand intertwined with his best mates kid, arms swinging in unison as the little boy laughed excitedly. johnny had been tied up with work, neck deep in paperwork and drowning in meetings.

simon begrudgingly agreed to do pick-up, and had he known your smiling face would greet him for the very first time - he’d do it every damn day for the rest of his life.

the first thing you said to him, with a little coy smile plastered across your face, had him bleeding out and begging for mercy.

“simon, right? i’ve heard so much about you,”

“only the good things - i hope.”

“i’d like to think so - but you’re more then welcome to correct me if i’m wrong.”

you left your lunch at the apartment you shared - the one he invited you to stay at after only four months together. your jacket is hung up on his door, your shoes left underneath his bed and the paperwork with your curved handwriting sitting on the kitchen counter. remnants of you stick to him like glue, and simon just doesn’t have the heart to wash you off.

he stalks through the school corridors, eyes scanning for the familiar blushing face he’s come to adore. the mask is left in his center console - he didn’t want to scare anyone, as amusing as it may be. your classroom is down the hall, the door propped ajar as a silent invitation for him.

he’s never seen your class before - always preferring to meet you in the parking lot with a toothy grin spread across his face at the sight of you leading kids to their parents.

lately, simons been thinking of a life with you. a two story home, white picket fence and a ring around your finger with a smile that’s made just for him. there’s a backyard, a little hammock you can swing in as he cooks for you.

hell - maybe even a little one that clings to your side. his eyes. your hair. his stubborn nature. your curiosity. it’s a thought, one that he’s never considered until you.

simon wasn’t thinking straight when he drove to your work, your lunch bag sitting in his passenger seat as he grew giddy at the idea of seeing you. always the fool.

he heard your voice from across the hall, gentle and smooth alongside a symphony of energetic kids who shouted your name and gathered their things. simon felt the familiar quicken of his heartbeat, chest tightening with excitement as he knocked gently on the door and popped his head in.

you leaned against the white board, dragging your gaze away from the class and landing on simon. at the sight of him, you blushed crimson red and gnawed on your lower lip. he extended an arm outwards, your lunch dangling from his fingertips.

twenty-two pairs of eyes focused on him in an instant. their little heads snapped to him, voice shrill with curiosity as simon blinked in bewilderment. you parted your lips, voice falling silent in the background of the class going wild.

“who are you?” “you look old.” “do you know my dad? he’s big like you.” “i think that’s teachers friend-“ “teacher doesn’t have friends!”

“teacher said it’s rude to stare, mister.”

“sorry, kids - someone forgot their lunch,” he states, looking to you expectantly. god help him. simon’s never been the one to get along with children - much less an entire classroom full of them. but you were right there, with eyes sparkling full of happiness as you watched him.

those eyes - they tell him the same thing you’ve said every waking moment you spend with him. i love you.

“he’s a delivery driver!” someone shouted, causing a chorus of argument, your shoulders shaking as you held back laughter. simon entered the room, gently placing the bag on your desk and giving you a subtle wink.

clearing your throat, you grabbed the children’s attention with ease, a hand on your hip as you gestured to him. “this is my friend simon. class - say hello,” you state, voice slicing through the chatter as they quieted down to listen.

simon stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do as nearly two dozen shouts rang out to greet him. you look over to him, a smirk on your lips as he rubs a hand behind his neck.

“is he your best friend, teacher?”

you can’t help but laugh, the sound ringing like a sweet melody in his ears. simon adores you, heart slipping a beat at the way you nod your head innocently in agreement. “we’re the bestest of friends,” simon whispers loudly, a hand cupped around his mouth as those little eyes widen with excitement.

you think he’s the one, the very explanation of your existence. the pearly gates of heaven could greet you outside and you’d run straight to him. it’s got you thinking there’s a life worth living if it’s with him.

“thank you,” you say softly to him, opening the paper bag and rifling through it. “you’re off early today.”

he actually called out after he found your lunch left behind. he spent the morning looking over shiny rings at the jeweler, brows furrowed as he thought only of you. he got the pretty one, swiping his card without hesitation and keeping the velvet box in his pocket. it sits there even now.

“things are slow,” he states, eyes casting over the classroom with little pieces of you across it. there’s posters hung up on the wall, your handwriting scrawled in large letter and photos of all the trips he’s taken you on. you’ve labeled them all, and there’s a picture of him that sits on your desk.

“i think he works at a restaurant.” someone whispers amongst the sea of young faces. “no, he looks like a secret agent.” another pipes up.

simon laughs, the sound deep and reverberating through the room. he shakes his head in amusement. glancing over to you, he feels himself falling effortlessly for you all over again. you hold his gaze.

“caught red-handed.”

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod fanfic #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley imagine #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare

[mistkisbiggestfan]

Hii here for a tf2 request

May I request a Scout x GN reader where Soldier it's like reader's paternal figure?

He likes to take care of them and tends to protect then the most, so he does the "strict parent" thing when he discovers reader and Scout are dating?? :3

(Sorry if the explication was a bit vague or hard to understand, good afternoon :3!!)

Scout x Gn! Adopted child of Soldier! Reader

Scout x Gn! Adopted child of Soldier! Reader

A/n: Hey guys REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Words: 824 Request: Yes

You were a mercenary just like others, a gun for hire, or more like it, an insane person getting paid for their antics. 

You and Soldier met years before, in a US army barrack, you were a nobody’s child, orphan, left near an army base, so you grew up there. All of the armists took care of you, mostly the drill sergeants. 

But then, Soldier came around, he became your role model, a true father figure, since all you knew was the army, you never felt the true nature of a parent who is a nurturer.

Where Soldier went, it was guaranteed you would be there learning how to be like him. Only difference – you were a tad bit smarter than your found family member, drill sergeants made you sure you were smart as f&!#. 

The goofiest father – child duo on earth, you knew how to rocket jump before you could swim. (Which ended in you almost drowning after falling into a river from the jump). 

When both of you ended up as mercenaries, others had to deal with not one, but two! Two daredevil American patriots (No way of telling if you were American or not, but no matter what, Soldier made sure you felt American to the core). 

You and Scout were very different, he was a loverboy, and you? A tough nutcase. Example.: Soldier taught you to always sleep with a loaded shotgun near, for safety.

You had your fair share of love interests, but anytime Soldier found out he would kidnap the person and make them survive in a forest, just so he knew the person was good enough for you (guess what happened after that, everytime without fail. Boom! You were now single).

All of your teammates liked you, since you were raised a soldier, you could help out with almost any task someone needed. Medic needs help amputating? You’re the first person in the operation room, even before the actual patient. No spare parts for a Sentry? You’re on it. Spy needs more cigs? Yes sir!

You even tend to help Miss Pauling out, managing to scare her anytime you show up unannounced. Since Ms. Pauling and Scout were friends, she knew he was into you, the way he talked about you, the way he smiled at the mention of your name, yeah there was something he wasn’t telling her.

Miss Pauling knew Scout wanted to take you out even before he did. So did Spy and Medic.

For you, the people who helped you realize it were Heavy and Sniper. 

Both you and Scout were talking, goofing around, drinking “Bonk – Cola”, just hanging around, when you did so, Medic and Heavy both looked at each other and started quietly talking.

— Do you remember when we used to be like that Doktor? 

— Ja.. Days pass so fast, look at them all grown up.

— Are you two talking ‘bout my child maggots?

Soldier butted in. He was then left clueless as Medic & Heavy left. 

Soon you realized that there was something about Scout, he was just such a great guy to be around, especially when he acted like his actual self, sure his cocky persona was nice, but under it hid a sweet boy.

You liked loved him for that, and that’s how you realized, “I don’t think I like him just as friends… F#!k.” .

Of all the people Scout turned to Spy for advice, it went terrible. He tried – The whole pickup line was so confusing you just laughed your ass off and then Medic called you. “See you around Scout ^^”

Then Scout called his mom and had a heart to heart about it, the conversation really helped him to actually be true about his feelings to you, this was way different then all he had felt before.

So the same night, he decided to be real about his feelings. Both of you sat on the roof of the base and looked at the stars while he confessed his feelings.

After a long silence, and his distraught face, you kissed him! ❀

Then came the worst part – Telling Soldier.

You were excited to share the news with Soldier, Scout? Not so.

Being Soldier’s closest person, a child of his, made you incapable of fearing fear around him, so you assured Scout it’ll be fine.

Scout decided to be a man and tell Soldier alone. 

— Soldier, sir… 

— Scout why in the h#ll are you talking like that. Are you a spy!?

— No!! I just wanted to tell you.. Eh, sir? That me and Y/N are dating.

— Are you kidding boy?

— No?

— You better be.

He took out a shotgun!! 

Of course he did. Anyways, other than that, of course he had the typical conversation of “Hurt them and I’ll pop this shotgun in your face maggot.” 

Scout was almost pissed himself when Soldier just pointed the gun to his face. 

As you said, it went great!

#requests open #request #please request #x reader #tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 scout x reader

[moraxsthrone]

Kaeya fluff? Hell yeah

Imagine being the one person Kaeya leans on. For real, this man trusts no one and thought he would trust no one until you showed up. Now here he is, venting about his rough day at work while you run your fingers through his hair, reminding him just how much you love him. Maybe it's just me, but I think this man would MELT if you told him you want him romantically. Like, he's proud of how he can make you scream his name and all but having you say that you would be with him even without that? The man's dead, you killed him, but maybe he'll come back to you for a kiss ;)

Sorry, I don't think this is what you were asking for, but hope you like it anyhow?

anonnnnnn??? this is PERFECT!! it's even better than what i wanted?? skskskskssss. bless you, child, for leaving such a sweet delicacy in my ask box! 🥹💙

CW/NOTES — mention of sex but otherwise sfw. themes of low self-worth, abandonment issues, imposter syndrome (kaeya, not reader). fluff/comfort. gn! reader.

no, hun, it's not just you. you see, i've got quite a soft spot for lowkey insecure kaeya. it only makes sense??

i touched on this in my previous post, but i think kaeya secretly worries that you'll come to your senses one day and decide that being with him is more trouble than he's worth? he's scared shitless that he's inherently disposable (after what his bio father - and later, diluc - did to him) and probably suffers from a massive case of imposter syndrome when you tell him you're in love with him.

i think a big reason why he "peacocks" so much is bc he knows he's beautiful on the outside but thinks he's ugly on the inside and not worth sticking around for. beneath that cocky façade, there's a little boy who's terrified of being left all alone again. so he overcompensates by using his good looks and charming smile to win ppl over bc deep down he thinks that's all he's got going for him. of course you want to fuck him, he thinks. who doesn't?

but YOOOO when you touch his soul and kiss his scars, and you hold his heart in your hands like it's the most precious thing you've ever held? <i'm trying not to fucking cry here 😅> you hold it so close to your own heart and take care of it like it's yours (it is now, as far as he's concerned btw), kaeya fucking freaks the fuck out. he knows how to lose people. he's all too familiar with being discarded and abandoned.

but what he's NOT used to is being seen, accepted, and loved for exactly who he is, right to his very core. the first time you spend the night with him without having sex, he doesn't even sleep. he just lies there and watches you as tears blur his vision. he holds you and breathes in the scent of your hair as he kisses the top of your sleepy head, quietly thanking his stars for you and hoping his sniffling doesn't wake you up.

he'll know how it feels to be loved unconditionally and it's all bc of you. trust, this man will never step out of your relationship or do anything else to jeopardize what he has with you.

you're his home now, his center.

you're his present and his future.

you're his whole fucking life, his everything.

you're his person, the one who has his head in your lap, slowly brushing the tangles out of his hair with your fingers, leaning down to kiss his forehead and reminding him how much you love him. even and especially on his bad days when he needs that reminder the most.

#kel.answers 💌 #OMFFGGG ANON YOU MADE ME MAKE MYSELF CRY 😭😭😭 #but no frfr thank you for this 💙 #this is how i see and love kaeya #with my whole fucking heart (such as it is) #i need to write about this side of him more often #kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya fluff #kaeya comfort #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

[lostmyremembrall]

NSFW & SFW HC for Amit Thakkar

Photo by Rezoeline on twitter

As an Ominis enjoyer and Sallow Worshipper, I adore them to death. But let me explain why Amit is so perfect for MC

SFW

The only character who doesn't ask anything of MC

Actually, in-game he only GIVES to MC.

The telescope. Assistance with Gobbledegook.

He’s devoted to MC.

Will literally do anything for MC.

He is bitter he can't protect MC like Sebastian

So he will find other ways to help

He will take care of MC's wounds when they come back to Hogwarts

Becomes an insomniac ever since meeting MC, due to his anxiety for their safety

A hopeless romantic

Love letters, roses and expensive gifts

His affluent background means he thinks it's NORMAL to spend galleons on you

Will always await MC's return with open arms

Inside his arms is the only time MC can escape from everything terrible about their life

As MC gets dragged further into dark magic because of Sebastian,

Amit will be there to bring them back to the light.

When MC feels like they're surrounded by enemies,

he will show that compassion still exists

When MC grows desperate, and is willing to do anything to protect their friends like use the unforgivables,

Amit will be the grounding figure, leading MC with his strong moral fibre.

He shows that there are ways to care and protect your loved ones without becoming a dark wizard

Literally, Amit is the Sun to MC.

Amit’s smile is so bright, so unbroken and untouched by the cruelty of the world

(Sorry Sebastian, Ominis, Natty, Poppy but we all see your pained smile)

MC will do anything to stay in his innocent world

Amit will shed light on the darkest corners of MC's broken heart.

And bring them back to the light whatever the cost.

Amit will compare MC to his moon.

He says MC "outshines every star in the night sky."

As much as MC outshines everyone, a moon cannot shine without a star.

He is in disbelief that he gets to have something so special all for himself.

And he will always remember that as he treats you with utmost love and adoration.

He will treat you like a literal star, plucked from the night sky that he gets to keep for himself.

NSFW

He IS possessive and a soft dom.

MC thought he was just a shy boy who needs to be led at all times.

But my god MC was mistaken. He was just raised very strictly to treat women with utmost respect and gentleness,

So he's learned to restrain any of his urges.

He was hesitant at first to display any desires for fear of scaring off MC or being rude.

Displays the amazing self-control that he was raised to have at all times.

He may be inexperienced and shy at first.

But once he gets comfortable, and learns that it’s okay to want MC, he will unleash everything.

His curious Ravenclaw ass wants to study MC.

MC's every moan. What works for them. What doesn't.

Everything is about MC.

He will go down on MC until they're shaking underneath him.

Smiling softly down at them as they have their fourth orgasm.

When MC starts to beg they can't take it anymore, Amit will tilt his head.

And gives the most charming smile as he asks "Your body seems to be begging otherwise,"

As he glances down at MC's core still pulling him in.

Studies everything about sex to please MC.

Reads up on Kama Sutra as he furiously blushes and tries to hide behind the pages.

Will literally train himself to last longer and come back quicker for round 2 and 3 so he can give MC the pleasure they deserve

---

There WILL be other guys who underestimate Amit and approach MC.

Sebastian offering his scarf to MC because it's cold.

Amit will somehow always find MC in dicey situations and intervene before things escalate.

"Thank you, Sebastian,"

Amit will smile, but his eyes are narrowed into threatening slits.

"But I can take care of MC just fine.”

Rest assured, he would later be taking MC in the Room of Requirement in a domineering display of possessiveness.

His favourite position is missionary.

Snaking his fingers with MC’s as he whispers how adorable MC looks underneath him

His favourite part is seeing a side of MC nobody else has seen before.

The fact that he gets to have their moans, their euphoric expressions, their incoherent babble all to himself

It ignites something he's never felt before

On particularly stressful days, when MC gets distracted by anxious thoughts about exams, ancient magic, etc.,

Amit will pound even faster, deeper, and rougher until MC can't think of anything but him

He pouts, "I want you to be thinking about just me."

He'll smile contently when MC begins to mutter his name like a mantra, knowing they're close.

Making MC come and forget everything is a massive ego-boost for him.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk. Based on the fic 太陽と月, which has thrusted me fully into Amit phase.

#amit thakkar x reader #amit x reader #hogwarts legacy amit #amit x mc #amit thakkar x mc #amit thakkar #hogwarts legacy boys #hogwarts legacy headcanons #amit smut #sebastian x mc

[corviisquire]

Creatures have colors!!

Left to Right: @moonchild-in-blue @leonsleftbicep @ghxstly-death

@pear-island

Left to Right: @a-s-levynn @foundationsofdecay @polteergeistt

They have been colored along with making some minor adjustments. If anyone wants anything changed please let me know! These creatures are yours so name them whatever you want, develop lore if ya want, and do whatever you want with them. Possible next batch will probably be made later next week.

Art notes under cut :D

I put some music drops because music inspires me too much.

Moonchild-in-blue: The blues and purples!! Opals and the insides of muscle shells inspired me a lot with the coloring (particularly the stars and moon). There’s another shell that has that shiny blue and green lining on the inside but I can’t remember the name of it. It was a full moon last night but I forgot to take a picture! Thought of you but anyways I loved coloring the lady. It was fun but I first I struggled on deciding if I wanted more blue or purple.

Some songs I listened to a lot while coloring this:

Sweet Disposition - Temper Trap

Moon Child - F16s

The Night Does Not Belong to God - you know who

Leonsleftbicep: Colors go crazy! Idk what your favorite colors are but I chose The Blue. I also incorporated some red (for yummy contrast and complementary colors). I realized this looked very vampire media core. EyAH enjoy the critter!

Some songs I listened to while coloring this:

Blue Monday - Orgy

Military Fashion Show - And One

The Apparition - do I really need to say who?

Ghxstly-death: Per your request, red and black was incorporated! Was inspired by Mohg, Lord of Blood, from Elden ring cause he has cool robes and a trident thingy. I really like how it turned out. Like I’ve been doing with every design is adding the bling and I felt gold would work well.

Was resisting the urge to put the entire One EP right here:

Get The Balance Right! - Depeche Mode

Mascara - Deftones

Jaws - Slep tonka

SEVEN HOUR SHITTER (pearisland/perryisle): You use bright colors in your art all the time so we got the colors goingggg. Little guy reminds me of Pumpkin Patch protagonist or Hollow Knight. Idk. Not much to say except TRIPLE DEATH SLIME BARRAGE!!!

No normal music for you. only Kevin Macleod and Pizza Tower ST.

A-s-levynn: More Dark Sun Gwyndolin inspiration… (you can tell I have my dark souls art books open next to me right now). As requested, tendrils/tentacles were added! I think it improved the design a whole lot because it was originally very symmetrical and the tentacles added just the right amount of asymmetry to balance out the overall look. I’m a huge fromsoft fan (playing Elden Ring, waiting for new DLC, have dark souls 1 remastered but haven’t started it yet, have bloodborne Elden ring and DS1/3 art books) so lots of my art has elements from Fromsoft games (neutron activation).

And just like everyone else, some music for the soul:

Too Late - 311

Scared Together - Silversun Pickups

Dark Signs - eepy coin

Foundationsofdecay: Again, taking more inspiration from your blog, colors and stuff. The design had subconscious influence from the game sky: children of the light. Had lotsa fun coloring it. I don’t know much about you like favorite colors or flowers but I tried my best!

Songs that inspired me:

Let It Happen - Tame Impala

Flux - Bloc Party

Rain - tired currency

Polteergeistt: The oarfish colors… A lot Of these characters have cool blues so I tried to use some teal blues to contrast the red/pink(?). “Nintendo switch core” I’m sobbing. I fixed the feet. Now my Pinterest is filled to the brim with fish images (specifically oarfish, sea jellies, and blue lobsters).

The music!!!!!:

UNDERWATER BOI - Turnstile

The Illness (Teenagers Remix) - GoodBooks

Descending - exhausted dollar

Thank you so much. All of you are such lovely people. 🫂💕🫶

#art #my art #digital art #art gift #gift art #gift #creature #oc art #OC

[mamawasatesttube]

what would u say it takes for a fic to get kon's tone correctly? or like. what things do u feel make the tone Wrong? (if u can put it into words ik this is a very vague question LMAO)

so in essence you are asking me to distill kon as a character. i will attempt to do this, but preemptively be warned i will likely be rambling.

there are a few things about kon that always stand out to me. i draw a lot on sb94 for his overall character, with sb11 and adventure comics to guide his character arc. to me, he is, in no particular order:

incredibly smart

but exceedingly hard on himself,

and prone to self-deprecation.

silly and goofy! a geek-ass loser!!

full of joie de vivre!

deeply, deeply passively suicidal.

quick to anger (mostly when younger)

but even quicker to cool off and apologize if necessary.

too quick, even. very forgiving of anything done to him, no matter how fucked up, if he thinks the person is genuinely sorry.

kind. kind. kind. kind. he wants to believe in everyone.

prone to naivety, because of it. (again, especially when younger.)

ready and willing to destroy himself if it helps someone else even a little bit. a bleeding heart that maybe bleeds too much.

deeply, deeply caring. about everyone. especially the folks nobody else really cares about.

pretty introspective (post-death and resurrection).

passionate. he does not do anything by halves.

haha silly!!! jokester!!! star trek time!!! wahoo!!!

so as you can see, he is a character built on contradiction. he loves life, but he's been suicidal since day one. he's a lot smarter than anyone, including himself, gives him credit for - he might not be the best strategist out there, but his creativity and ability to think on his feet are phenomenal! he's deeply kind to the core and yet worries about who he is, because he can't see himself how anyone else does. i could go on. it's about the contradictions - the kontrast, if you will.

in terms of fic writing, character voice, and tone: imagine a boy in the basement of a fucked up science lab surrounded by the frozen-in-stasis corpses of his twelve would-be brothers, the clones before him that didn't pan out. he is white-knuckling his gloves. he is repeating to himself, but i stay silly :3!! but i stay silly :3!! but i stay silly :3!! but i stay--

this, too, is about the kontrast. denial and humor are his best friends and his favorite coping mechanisms.

to me, i guess a fic gets kon right if it understands he is an unreliable fucking narrator. he's incredibly repressed. he just denies it all and pretends he's fine because he can joke it off. he stays silly!! X3!! but he's a genuinely sweet and thoughtful guy. he does all the farm chores for ma kent without being asked, loves his dog, has nightwing merch (a zine, specifically, from the looks of it) in his room, and physically is incapable of shutting up about star trek. he's a geek. he's silly. he's loving. he's deeply sad. he's a walking talking identity crisis.

also wrt fic writing. i mean i know saying this is a lost cause because anyone bothering to read a long post about kon isn't the kind of person writing fics that don't actually treat him as his own character, but. he is not fucking scared of bruce wayne oh my god. i will forever yell about these pages from sb94 #85 aka what might be my fav issue in the entire run:

he doesn't stand for anyone being unjust, even if it's his bestie's mentor who he respects a lot!! even if he's a little nervous he tells bruce off and demands better from him!!! (granted, i also think this is some of my least favorite bruce writing ever - i don't like him sounding like a kkk manifesto someone hit find and replace on when he talks about metas, and i don't for the life of me understand why so many of his "fans" continue to eat that up and then shit it out in the year 2023, but that's getting off topic.)

ALSO. HE LOVES AND RESPECTS CLARK SO FUCKING MUCH. that's another thing fics get wrong. he does NOT resent clark for "not being around" and he does NOT tolerate anyone talking shit about him!! clark is his favorite guy. he idolizes him!! yes, he's sometimes sad about wanting to be closer to him, but never communicates this (and, again, this is also an editorial mandate). if kon was going to blame anyone for their relationship not being what he wants it to be, IT IS HIMSELF!!!! he does this literally on page in sb94, when he finds out clark has a secret identity and isn't superman all the time. he blames himself for not being someone superman would have wanted to confide in sooner. he is REALLY GOOD at blaming himself for things. he would never in his LIFE blame clark.

in conclusion. please enjoy this incredibly roumd krypto snoozing next to him in lena luthor's house. thank you for your time ♥

#answers #boudicca #god i could keep going i really could i didnt even touch on his actual character arc from baby -> post sb11 #or on my opinion on the way to handle the lex retcon in a way thats actually in character #but my right hand is starting to go numb again so i think i need to stop for the sake of it not hurting too bad #and i guess i have already made other posts on those ... somewhere #rambles #kon

[pholiabanna]

Mike and expressing feelings

Maybe this is controversial, but a very popular take in the stranger things fandom is that Mike has trouble communicating his feelings. Melvins use this as an excuse for him not saying ily to El, but some bylers also seem to believe he does have trouble.

However, basing myself on what I've seen portrayed on the show so far, I don't think that's the case. Ever since season one, Mike has been very vocal about expressing his discomfort or disagreement. From confronting his own dad ("I'm the only one who cares about Will") to screaming at Hopper (when he hits him and calls him "liar", he didn't precisely struggle with letting him know how frustrated and angry he felt). He also has no trouble standing up against authority figures (Hopper when he said they couldn't look for Will, Owen's agents who he didn't trust enough to stay on lockdown...).

My point is, him rarely opening up about his feelings hasn't been established on screen for his character either. Since he's the leader of the party, that role can only work if he expresses how he feels about plans or situations, which he does in all seasons.

The only feelings he's having trouble communicating are his love for Will and his lack of (romantic) love for El. But in my opinion, this isn't because he's a person that normally struggles with voicing how he's feeling.

It's a really hard situation for him because to begin with, being in the process of accepting your queerness in 80s America had to be terrifying, so things like being scared of El's or Will's reactions definitely come into play.

Also the guilt. He can't tell El he doesn't wanna date her, because seeing her cry in front of him while asking him why he doesn't say he loves her, knowing what she's gone through, breaks his heart. He's a compassionate person, and even if he's not in love with her, it doesn't mean that he doesn't care about her, and given she's going through a terrible time with the loss of Hopper, he puts her before himself and tries to be the best boyfriend he can for her. But the heart wants what the heart wants, so he can't say "I'm in love with you" because he isn't. He can't express his romantic feelings for her, but not because he's a boy that struggles with expressing his own feelings, but rather because those romantic feelings don't exist. And his true nature would be telling her the truth (and in my opinion, all of his talks with Will in season 4 were about him building up courage to eventually tell her that, because again, he's a boy that likes to be vocal about his opinions and he's trying to overcome the fear of rejection in this particular case, which is what's holding him back from his natural state).

He's also not opening up with Will at the beggining of the season for this particular reason. He's coming to terms with the fact that he loves him, and he seems like he's bursting with it. That's the thing, Mike has always been very vocal about his feelings, and with Will particularly. This has been portrayed on the show many times ("I'm gonna stay by you no matter what, we'll defeat the mind flayer together, meeting you is the best thing I've ever done..."). He opens up his heart to him with no problem. His behavior in season 3 and the beggining of season 4 was about him not acting like his usual self. In those scenes where there's clearly something that he's not telling Will, it's been established that he's acting as someone he isn't. So when he's not expressing what he's feeling, that's not his normal self. That's not his core trait, he's acting out of character. And that's because the feelings he wants to scream and yell are being affected by external reasons (fear, self acceptance, internalized homophobia...). Still, after spending some time with Will in season 4, he slowly goes back to his real self, and he starts to let him know what's worrying him ("El and I fought, it was a bad fight, I feel like a random nerd"). He has no trouble opening up with the right person. He's in the process of reverting back to his true self, the guy who has no problem being vocal about his thoughts. The reason why he still hasn't been fully honest about his romantic feelings with both Will and El is because of the misscommunication trope, the painting fiasco and the fact that season 5 is planned to be a continuation of season 4, so they dragged the storyline for a bigger payoff, where Mike being completely honest about his feelings will make him come full circle, and go back to being his true self, once all the obstacles are overcome.

So in conclusion, Mike is not "so in love with El but he has trouble telling her because he's a boy who has always struggled with communicating his feelings". Instead, Mike is a boy who's always been blatantly honest until growing up and his own personal battles have made him stop himself from doing what he wants more than anything (being honest) and his journey consists of overcoming those obstacles, because his honesty wins over his fears.

Anyways, that's the way I've always seen it. I'd love to hear more opinions in this topic and I'm completely open to discussion! Let me know what you think.

#byler #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #analysis