#the intimacy of loving and wanting each other in every way no matter what | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampiresfromxenon · 8 months

Text

I Wanted To

Astarion x gn! Reader/Tav

Almost 3.5k words

Tags: Fluff, kisses, cuddling, angst, biting mention, no use of y/n, words of affection (so much sappiness), soft! Astarion, they’re in love your honor!!

CW: Slight mentions of SA and trauma (extremely minor, incredibly light piece)

Summary: You and Astarion decide to start your relationship over once you both confess your feelings. It's a mutual decision to take things extremely slow, celebrating little victories of intimacy here and there. Tonight, you can't hide your words of affection as he becomes more comfortable and vulnerable around you.

It’s been a few months traveling with this rowdy crew, and you can’t help but smile thinking about how much you love them all. Granted, they all piss you off on the daily, what from Shadowheart and Lae’zel attempting to kill each other, to Gale eating your favorite pair of enchanted gloves, but you can’t help yourself from smiling every time you think about how close you’ve all grown. One particular member in the party you have become very close with stands out a bit more than the rest, and thoughts about him are enough to make you unsettlingly giddy.

For the longest time, you and the pale elf fought your feelings, too cold to warm up to each other. You both had a wicked past, something that tainted your current perceptions of love and romance. His may have been far more extreme than yours, but regardless of that fact, your feelings and emotions were still valid. For a short few weeks, you found yourselves being extra intimate, dismissing it all as stress relief and nothing more. Those little excursions were merely there as a form of self protection: He gained your trust and protection, and you felt less alone and vulnerable at night. Or, so you thought, until you noticed how distant he was, his eyes never meeting yours every time he sought to pleasure you.

It wasn’t until recently that these barriers slowly began to be chipped away for the both of you, your infatuation not only becoming more real, but unfortunately, more terrifying. One night, you approached him, being brave and understanding if he had other thoughts about what you two could be. It was late, most of the camp either asleep or preparing for bed. You approached him, a soft hand on his shoulder, even though he was well aware you were there. What you were there for though, remained a mystery to him. He turned, smiling at you, taking your hand and kissing it affectionately. As your heart raced, you began a discussion with him, asking his thoughts and feelings about your ‘connection’ rather than just bombarding him with an overwhelming confession of love.

He seemed stunned to say the least, unsure of what to say or how to feel. It was strange for him, his cold heart beating a little faster, feeling a little warmer at the sight of you in front of him, actually seeing him for him and not just another plaything. All these feelings were bubbling up inside him because, for the first time in a long time, someone not only asked him what he wanted in a romantic relationship, but they respected anything he said on that subject matter. In all his nervousness, he felt that he could be honest in his reciprocation to see how far you two could go, this time with real feelings. That was a few weeks ago, and all this time since has been magical.

You haven’t intimately slept together since just before that night, instead establishing boundaries and focusing more on the non-sexual ways to be intimate, loving, and kind. He loves the way your hand brushes his, the way your fingers interlace with his as he moves in to hold your hand. You love the way his hand lands on your back, stretching to your hip to pull you closer to him, especially when meeting new people from town to town. While you still struggle with eye-contact in general, it feels easier around him, especially now since he has found himself to be more comfortable actually looking at you, taking in your appearance and being more present in your conversations.

For many nights now, you’ve been cuddled up nicely in one or the other’s tent, fingers interlaced, hands gently wrapped around hips, legs occasionally intertwined. He still continues to feed on you, though he makes sure to gain your permission before bed each night. On the nights where you felt too tired, too drained mentally even, he would leave you be, hoping to keep you as comfortable as possible. Those nights were just as romantic, as you could feel his breath against your neck as he cuddles you tightly, his lips on your shoulder as he falls into the soft rhythm of sleep.

Tonight didn’t start off any differently from any other night; you both gathered in his tent, doing your nightly routines as per usual (always before promptly passing out until the next morning hit you like a boulder). Most nights he would wear a nice, silky pajama set, one he purchased from an unreasonably expensive fashion designer in a small village. You didn’t have as luxurious of pajamas, but yours still covered most of your body, keeping you feeling safe and snuggled up each night.

Neither of you expected that this night would change everything.

He’s standing off to the side of your shared bedroll, changing into his pajamas while your back is turned to him, fiddling with the blanket you both share. You notice just how used this blanket is, and you realize that it might have been the only thing giving him comfort, the feeling of security over the past 200 or so years. Astarion was far from one to share, whether it was his feelings or his belongings, and it isn’t long before you have a second realization: you are possibly the only person to have ever slept with that blanket besides him. Your fingers gently roll the decaying fabric between your fingers, taking in all of his memories that have been exhausted on the threads.

You hear him walking over and you drop your thoughts about the blanket, not wanting to pry into more of his distressing past. He kneels, picking up the blanket and sliding next to you, your bodies touching in an instant. Turning your attention away from the blanket, you look up to see your love is shirtless, moving around in the bedroll, trying to be more comfortable at your side.

You know just how insecure he is about his scars from Cazador, that disgusting, vile, treacherous bitch, but it was so lovely to see him stepping out of his comfort zone. While you’re quick to notice this new change, he’s even quicker to notice your reaction. Diving back into his comfort charm, he smirks at you, loading a phrase to protect his vulnerable side.

“Like what you see, darling?” His eyes flutter to the side a bit, and you immediately notice his withdrawal from the conversation. With a calm and gentle hand, you caress his cheek, turning his attention back to you.

“I always love what I see…” You smile, your eyes looking at him in such a way that your face beams with pride, though you try to find a balance between that and neutral so as to not overwhelm him. To see just how much he trusts you, is willing to open up to you and be vulnerable… Your heart can barely take it. In a quiet voice you’re sure to check in on him, wanting to make sure he feels secure in his choice. “Don’t feel you have to do this for me though, okay?”

His hand reaches up to hold yours against his cold cheek, his stare suddenly becoming more present. “I wanted to.” His voice is low, his hand taking yours off his face as he leans in gently to kiss your palm. He kisses your forehead before moving to lie down, making himself comfortable in your small space.

You sit there for a moment, considering your options. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but you want him to be aware that you feel the same sense of shared comfort. As he turns to the side, looking at a book he left on the ground earlier, you move to remove your shirt, tossing it off to the side. He moves the book away from you both so you don’t roll into it in the night. Turning back to face you, he pauses, taking in the sight of your bare chest. He looks up at you, tilting his head, nearly asking you the same question you just asked him.

Before he can say anything, you lean slightly closer to him, your voice a loud whisper. “I wanted to.” His eyes soften, and you can tell he’s flattered by this display of intimacy. You begin to crawl under the old blanket with him, and he pulls you close, his hand around your waist. The feel of his cold, soft skin against your bare back is enough to send shivers down your spine, and you realize that this must be so close to what heaven feels like. His free hand reaches up and caresses your jaw before tangling in your hair, gently playing with it as he knows it helps you fall asleep.

Your hand rests on his bare chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat slowing down as he continues to relax in your care. You lie there for a while, trying to sleep, but something is keeping you awake. Perhaps it’s the looming threat that you could all die soon in brutally vicious ways, or the fact that you don’t want to waste a single second enjoying this time with your new lover. Suppose you’ll never truly know.

Regardless of what is keeping you up on this night, you begin to feel a little restless, unable to lie there in that position for too much longer without your arms going numb. You sit up a little, leaning on the arm you’ve been lying on, trying to not wake your companion. However, his body shifts with you, and it appears that he is still just as awake as you are.

“I didn't wake you, did I?” You whisper in a worried voice.

“Not in the slightest, my dear. Unable to sleep tonight, as I am sure you understand.”

You sigh, still leaning over him slightly, his hand that was once on your waist now drawing circles on your shoulder blade, the hand in your hair now resting on your hip. You want to speak, but you find yourself getting lost in the way his face looks in the moonlight peeking through his tent flap. It frames his face so perfectly, almost as if this scene was sculpted by the Gods. He notices your sudden distance, and he is quick to check in on you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks, a tinge of concern in his voice, once again tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Sorry… Yes, yes. More than alright.” You reassure him, not breaking your focus. A beat; he attempts to determine what’s on your mind. Thinking he’s found it, he smirks.

“Admiring how beautiful I am?”

“Yeah… Just looking at creases around your eyes…” You say in a loving tone, not even remotely aware of how backhanded the comment you just made sounds.

He begins to shuffle, pushing you away, offended by your lack of sincerity. “Alright, there’s no need-”

“No! Not like that.” You chuckle, snapping back into reality. You grab him, pulling him back to you, his head pressing back into the pillow below you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” You can’t stop yourself from laughing a little at the sight of your pouting partner underneath you.

You notice just how unamused he is, and you abruptly stop laughing, clearing your throat and composing yourself in a more serious manner. Your hand reaches up and the pad of your thumb brushes against his crows feet, your mind falling back into your feelings of love and adoration for him.

“The way your eyes crinkle when you laugh… The way your eyes sharpen when you’re glaring at me, like you are right now… The way they soften every time I walk in the room… I love those wrinkles, they’re such a beautiful part of you.” He relaxes again, taking in your words, though still unhappy at your mention of his wrinkles, making him feel old. Though, no matter how much he hates his aging characteristics being brought up, he will never turn away any form of flattery.

“Well, augh. You really are sweet, aren’t you? But I’m sure you like more of me than just my dreaded wrinkles.” He was definitely fishing for compliments, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t aware of just how much you wanted to smother him in loving words. You lean forward and kiss his crows feet on both sides, surprising him. Smiling, your thumb traces over his eyebrows, taking in their shape and feel.

“My eyebrows, really? Nothing else catching your eye?” He whines, his hands going back to resting on your shoulder blade and hip. He can feel your body shake as you laugh, your head falling forward towards his chest as you continue to giggle from his pouting. You bring your head back up, focusing on his face once more.

“One thing at a time, dearest.” You pause, analyzing the shape of his eyebrows. Just how sharp they are, how often he uses them to his advantage when he is charming people. As you continue to gaze at them, he raises one of them, making your heart go crazy.

“You’re so expressive. Your eyebrows are so perfectly shaped, the way you use them like a weapon… I know it’s silly, I know they’re just eyebrows, but they’re your eyebrows, and they mean so much to me.” You trail off, your face flushed with embarrassment as you realize just how overly sentimental your words are. He smiles at you, knowing just how hard you’re trying, and appreciating every second of it. You kiss his eyebrows before quickly moving on.

Your fingers trace along his face, noticing his mole. By now he’s exhausted, you’re three for three with things he’s sensitive about. “Darling, if this is your way of making me feel less upset about not being able to look in mirrors, I must say it’s starting to work.” His words deceive his face and body language, but you still try to abide by his wishes.

Wanting to show your love, without spending too much time on it, you mention how much the mole under his eye suits him, how he would almost seem incomplete without a beauty spot. The usage of ‘beauty’ in ‘beauty spot’ convinced him to let it slide, but the ice you were dreamily skating on was wearing thin. Kissing his mole, you move on once again.

The skin of his nose was soft as you trace the pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose. “Your nose… it’s so sharp. Don’t laugh, but one of my favorite feelings is when I wake up and your nose is either on my back or my neck. I can feel your breathing on my skin, your nose pressed against me while you sleep. It’s so calming, having any little part of you so close to me.” He looks at you a little confused, mostly due to the fact that you’re still here appreciating him. The things you’re saying, they’re so small and insignificant, yet you enunciate each word like it’s the most important thing you’ll ever say. Each word has a purpose, a meaning, and they fall out of your mouth effortlessly; something he still has yet to learn how to do.

You kiss the tip of his nose, your fingers tracing down his face to his smile lines. Oh his smile lines. You just can’t help but adore his smile lines, no matter how much he absolutely hates them. He hates them because they age him, but you love them for all the same reason. To know he laughs, smiles, has any semblance of being happy is enough for you to be overjoyed at the sight of these lines that prove the existence that he has been able to enjoy life enough to have physical proof on his face.

“Don’t you dare.” He teases, though you wish he could bear with you for just a moment to explain your thoughts. Figuring you could do it another time, as tonight has already had enough excitement, you kiss his smile lines and spare him from your honeyed words.

Last, but certainly not least: his lips. Your thumb traces over his lips which are closed together, gently pushing up just enough to where you wonder if he was trying to secretly kiss your thumb. As you continue to run your thumb over his lips, reminiscing on all the times your own experienced his, he takes you by surprise.

Removing the hand from your hip, his thumb graces your lips, and you find yourself trying to inconspicuously kiss at it like he did to you just moments ago. You open your mouth to speak, but he uses his finger to silence you, gently shushing you.

“My turn.” His voice is smooth and tender as his thumb continues to trace over your slightly parted lips. “Your lips… They have always been so soft and inviting.” He pauses, still staring at them.

“I must admit, I despised them at first.” A confused expression crosses your face just before he continues. “They would taunt me on a daily basis, the one thing I couldn’t have no matter how much charm I threw at you. When I was eventually graced with them, I loathed the way my name would be cried out from them, almost as if you were saying it like a prayer. It tore me apart, wanting something I wasn’t sure I actually wanted, or even felt like I deserved…” He trails off, though his gaze remains constant on you.

“How do they make you feel now?” You softly ask, just barely loud enough for even yourself to hear.

He thinks on this for a moment, searching for the proper word.

“Safe.”

He leans up to you, cupping your cheek as he kisses you, the most delicate and loving kiss you two have ever shared. You both pull from the kiss, exercising restraint and respect for your pre-established boundaries. A hand resting on his chest, you encourage him to lie back on the pillow once more, which he does. You lean forward, kissing every part of his face that you mentioned, as well as a few spots just because you wanted to. Kissing his lips again, you pull apart just enough to whisper against his lips.

“I admire everything about you. Every aspect of you is just so lovely… Thank you for being here, with me. I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

He smiles, his fangs poking out this time. His hand moves a strand of hair out of your face as he clears his throat.

“And thank you for all the kisses.” He says, resuming his usual charm. You try to hide your slight disappointment, but you know he is trying his best and you can’t expect him to always meet you halfway, especially in this time of healing.

“Always.” You whisper, lying down next to him as he wraps his arms around you, holding you closely. It’s late, and now that you have this feeling lifted off your chest, you find it easier to sleep. Your heart rate begins to slow, your breathing finding its usual pattern, your lover wrapped up tightly with you.

When you’re on the edge of falling asleep, you feel his head tilting down towards yours, which is resting on his chest. His lips kiss the top of your head, his chin then resting on that same spot. A quiet voice breaks the air, unaware that it still has an audience.

“I love you.”

You freeze, unsure of whether or not you have actually fallen into a dream state, or if you just heard him correctly. In this state of grogginess, your body shifts as you attempt to determine the truth.

“Shit. Did you hear that?”

“Mhm.” You sleepily groan. He lets out a sigh of relief, thinking he’s talking to you in your sleep like he has before. Settling further into the bedroll, making himself more comfortable, he pulls you tighter, finally deciding to rest.

“I love you too.” You break the silence, your voice more awake this time. His eyes flash open, his red irises laser focused on you. You can feel his heart pounding as you rest on his chest, and you lean over and kiss just above his heart.

“Safe.” Is all you can say before promptly passing out, your warm skin slowly heating up his own. He sits there for another moment, taking in the events of today. It was a lot, to say the least, but he felt comfortable and confident in his decisions, and that was almost truly a first for him. His hand finds its way back into your hair, stroking it as he begins to drift off to sleep, for the first time in a long time feeling comfortable, guarded, protected, safe.

Author’s Note:

He’s extremely OOC, I’m 95% sure lmao but I love making characters total softies, even if we don’t see that side of them in the media they’re from. (I'm still in the very beginning of Act 2 so I'm learning a lot about him through this site too)

I’ve never experienced love, I’m also sure that’s obvious- I’ve always wanted to do something like this with someone though (look at their face and kiss all my favorite spots). While I was writing this, I felt so awkward writing such sappy dialogue, but I realized that moments like these aren’t smooth and rehearsed; feelings get mushy and oftentimes people say dumb and dorky things because they’re just so in love. I hope it gets translated that way at least hahaha

My Spotify is fucked because I listen to specific songs on repeat whenever I write. I have probably about 4-5 hours of “Blue Moon” by Billie Holiday logged on there now because of all the time planning, writing, and thinking about this fic- I got this song from Neil’s Astarion playlist, it’s so sweet and loving :)

Edit: So many people are saying he’s actually pretty in character so thank you for the validation because I was nervous 😭

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nouvxllev · 2 months

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CLINGYGRUMPYJENNA X READER!!

plsplsplsplspls

Summary: Co-workers in public, lovers in private 🙌🏼, while shooting for Wednesday, J gets really stressed, and craves for R's intimacy, but can't have that yet until break of dawn, so J basically gets sooo annoyed with anyone who tries talking to her that isn't R.

the waiting game

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluf, grumpy & clingy jenna!

a/n: caught basically the nastiest cold for a whole week, but im back! sorry requests taking too long, tryna to balance everything rn but it all will be done soon!!!!

masterlist.

Jenna hasn’t seen you in almost 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 4 fucking seconds.

Yes, she counted, yes, it’s still ongoing, and, yes, she could almost murder someone with her bare hands if time even dares to pass by without you.

What makes matters worse is that she's terribly sleep-deprived even with someone's arms wrapped around her night after night.

Of course, the aforementioned someone swirling in her head 24/7 is you. Her not-quite-lover in public but entirely her beloved behind closed doors.

If Jenna had it her way, she would’ve jumped off a building by now and hard-launched the both of you by herself just so she could get hugs, kisses, and your hand intertwined with hers all she wanted.

Obviously, the universe decides to be a stuck-up bitch just now in their 14 billion years of life, wanting nothing more than to see Jenna Marie Ortega suffer without having you.

But it's fine.

She could get through this.

If there's someone in the world that could handle a single day without your warm hugs and lovely kisses, whether it be on the cheek or the lips, it would be her. She didn't endure almost half a year seeing that godforsaken Wednesday dance to go completely insane without you.

— Is what she kept telling herself 30 seconds earlier before she broke down and almost turned to witchcraft if you don't appear in front of right her.

She could push through with it, like she always does. It's a simple routine that never got the best of her.

Wake up and have breakfast with the love of your life while prepping each other with kisses and whatnot, run to set for the both of you to act out a scene for a while, when break hits all Jenna has to do is intertwine her pinky with yours under the table, then do hair and makeup after, act out a scene then wrap it all up, lie to everyone for the 100th time that her house is just a few steps away from yours, hit a bakery on the way home or maybe an ice cream shop if Jenna feels peckish, break down the apartment door Jenna shares with you, run to the bedroom, and smother each other with kisses and cuddles. Maybe a makeout session if Jenna's lucky.

It's bliss then repeat.

But today just so happens to be the day that Jenna takes over the whole episode, doing stunts and everything with little to no cuts for side characters.

She'd think that you would have nothing to do than act out your scenes—with her—might she add and it'll be all fine and the nights she'd spent waking up at 3 in the morning would be all's well.

But no, unfortunately you were the epitome of the perfect person and everyone just has to drag you around to who knows where to deal with some difficulties.

Plus, the both of you woke up late so she didn't even get the full girlfriend treatment she always got in the morning.

It was completely unfair!

Jenna was tired, grumpy, a bit too snappy, desperate for your attention, and she misses you. Alot.

And by that she means she misses the way you would wrap your arms around her after a busy day of filming together, pull her close, and feel the way how her lips fits perfectly on yours.

She would've dragged you back to bed and cuddle with you if she knew what was about to happen. Every second not spent with you is absolutely meaningless in her book.

Unfortunately, she has to play the waiting game.

She's fucking losing it.

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

It was 11 PM on a Thursday night.

Jenna is really so fucking tired, she could almost snap.

She had almost endured five to six hours of you nowhere even near her. The most she even interacted with you on set was when the both of you were acting a scene then abruptly got cut because of technical difficulties.

Plus, everyone but you was talking to her as if she was some kind of star! (she is.)

Jenna almost wished for an accident, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction that leads her to discovering some sort of new allergy about herself, just so she could be rushed off to the hospital and have you fussing over her, then maybe you could hold her hand and kiss her as if she would heal.

"How's it going, Ree—"

"Literally, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up Georgie."

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes wide open as he steps back in surrender with his hands up in the air. "Ooooohkay!"

The brunette's head shot up immediately, her eyes burning and her shoulders slumped as she sank further into her chair for what felt like the millionth time.

"I... I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples, "I'm doing fine." She reassured herself more than anyone else, gripping the armchair for support.

"Biggest lie ever."

"You caught in Jenna's crossfire too, Emma?

"Oh damn, even Moosa?"

As if on cue, the whole cast decides to join in the damn conversation. Jenna loved them all, really, but it would've been so much better if a certain someone also joined and not far off into the distance talking to one of the editors.

Come on, would it literally kill you to question yourself why half of the cast was surrounding practically the love of your life while you're standing like 10 feet away!?

"You seem tense, J."

"Something wrong?"

"You've been staring at us for an hour with that Kubrick Stare of yours."

Who's exactly talking to her? Georgie, Emma, Moosa, it's all in that order but their voices seemed deranged, and it couldn't be any more worse when she's been trying to catch your eye for what seemed like the past hour.

She couldn't take shit when she's horribly missing you. So, she bites, and raises her voice more than she should, "Should I close my eyes to spare you the terrible fucking horror? Fuck, man!"

Jenna let an exasperated sigh escape from her mouth as she rose to her feet, eyeing the group with probably the most intense stare someone could bear witness to. She half-expected she'd get another pain-in-the-ass comeback from atleast one of them, but she was met with unusual silence.

The three look practically horrified, as if they were seeing the fictional idea of Wednesday Addams in the form of a 5'1, 22 year old woman dressed as her. Like they have the small but terrible quote running gears in their heads.

She heard them in unison muttering quiet apologies, "Sorry, Jenna…"

Her mind told her to forgive them for whatever they did, but her heart told her y/n.

"No, no it's fine." The brunette shook her head, her words forming icicles on each synonym and her eyes were like seeing inside of a storm. Without the peaceful atmosphere of an eye, clearly. "I'm just... stressed. Is Y/n free?"

Emma tilted her head to the side, "Actually, I never really saw them that much today, no?" She exchanged glances with the both of them.

"Heard they're busy with the tech team," Georgie crossed his arms, "Even for an actor, they've got a skill to be a director with how familiar they are behind the scenes."

Moosa nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they've been pretty tied up with all the technical stuff lately. Must be exhausting."

For fuck sakes, why did you have to be the most perfect and talented goddamn person?

"Why you looking for them?"

Jenna definitely did not need another goddamn voice entering her goddamn space.

She could almost roll her eyes and flip everybody off if not for Joy and the others being the most precious co-stars of them all.

"Because!" Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking while lifting her arms in the air, "Y/n's my fucking lov...-"

Oh, shit.

"Lov...?"

"...Lovely neighbor." She blinked. "They... They bake me some cookies whenever I get in a bad mood."

Oh to fucking hell with this lovers in private bullshit. Lovely neighbor, that was the best damn excuse she could come up with?

"Well, heard they went home early because of an emergency, but it's kinda pouring out—"

It was in Jenna and Jenna alone on how insanely and horrifyingly fast she bolted out of the conversation, quickly changed clothes, thanking to the literal heavens (fuck the universe, Jenna will die on this hill) that Tim wrapped up early.

Josh. Josh was always the one you manage to bring up to be one of the most carefree guys in set, it's certain that he knew wherever the fuck you went. Actually, you always looked so happy whenever you talked to her about Josh and how much he lends with whatever left over set pieces they had, it's almost insane that you were—

"Aliyah, I'd tell you to shut up and fuck off as of this moment but I am literally too tired to even say that, what!?"

"Jenna, where the hell is your hoodie you wore on Christmas Eve!? I literally told you like an hour before your half-assed reply to tell me where'd you put your clothes."

Of course her sisters, more specifically Aliyah Goddamn Ortega, would find the most perfect timing to call her about the stupidest shit there could ever be.

"Okay, now, fuck off."

Jenna grimaced through gritted teeth as she hung up. She loved her sister, but does she love you more? Absolutely.

"Josh!" She called out, running towards him, "Sorry, kind of abrupt, but do you know where Y/n went?" Atleast she had some decency left in her to be polite to some.

"Actually—"

"Let one more word come out of your mouth not related to my question, and I swear, Josh—"

"Y/n left early, they told me to tell you but I guess I forgot."

Maybe a little too carefree.

"You fucking guess!?— I mean, yes, thank you. I’ll be going."

Oh, the waiting game is a pain in the ass.

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

You pace back and forth in Jenna's apartment, your socks making a dent in the fuzzy carpet in the living room Jenna bought when you moved in with her, a nail in between your teeth and rain pouring in the background.

How in the hell did you forget possibly all your devices on fucking set!?

Your phone was dead, and your laptop was unfortunately abandoned by its owner (yours truly) and you have no way of contacting your lovely girlfriend.

And worse of all, it was a little over midnight.

All this because you got a notification that someone was at the door for an hour.

And it was just a fucking cat. (To be fair, they were really cute.)

You were starting to worry, especially how it was pouring outside like there was a hurricane incoming and how you left early without Jenna intertwining her warm and soft hands around yours.

So not only did you leave all your devices behind, but you also left Jenna without any means of contacting you.

You almost cursed yourself, maybe even doing the most stupidest and financially unstable decision of ordering a new phone as if it was going to be delivered same day.

Until you heard a slight click and a door opening.

There were times thunder struck, but it definitely did not beat the way your heart almost leaps into your throat as you hear the door opening.

You pause in your steps, a deep breath stuck in your mouth as you cross the living room and peer through the door way.

The door swung open and you're met with the, one of the most gorgeous and relieving sights you may add, of Jenna standing there. Slightly damp and with an... angry? Expression on her face.

"Jenna!" You blurted out, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Did Josh fill you in? I feel terrible for getting home early, I'm so sorry. There was this whole thing I had to deal with, then the rain came pouring down, and I thought I'd at least get you a cab—"

"Shh. Just stay still. And preferably quiet."

When she's in your arms, she melts in the warmth of the comfort you bring to her. "Guess you caught the cab." You whisper under your breath.

You notice her breathing slowing down, the tension in her body easing away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she buries her head in your neck. A sway the both of you took upon as she tugged at your chest with her hands wrapped around your body.

Jenna felt and smelled like home. Maybe heaven really is real if you're back in her arms after death.

"Is everything okay? Did something go down on set while I was away? Oh, Jenna, I'm so—" You start to pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Y/n, push me away, I fucking dare you, I'll bring down hell upon this godforsaken world."

You hesitate, but her gaze wants nothing more than to be in your arms. Who were you to deny her?

With a gentle squeeze of her shoulders, you pull her back into your arms. You weren't much taller than Jenna, in fact, just an inch or two apart. You loved that about eachother, like the two of you were a perfect fit.

Minutes pass, the only sound of the soft rhythm of Jenna's breathing and your heartbeat became a melody to your ears.

"I'm gonna hard launch the both of us right fucking now."

Well, that definitely caught you off-guard.

"Something happened?"

"You weren't on set for like hours! And everyones got too damn annoying for my ears to even process so I was trying to look for you, but then I ended up insulting Emma and the others, then I called you my lovely neighbor because I almost ended up saying you're my lover so I had to cover for it!"

"...That's quite a handful. I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby."

Even so, you knew that Jenna wasn't ready for a public relationship, not now that everyone was currently holding her at a social and cyber gunpoint with her life.

And even back then, you were the first one in the relationship who told her that the both of you would be better off if they both kept it private.

Even from their friends... And maybe more so families. Or maybe Jenna's. It's pretty hard to keep secrets from her family.

Obviously, look how that turned out.

Finally, Jenna murmurs something. "Sorry. It's been a rough day." Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Just without you."

You could almost kill yourself of the mere thought of even having to leaving Jenna the whole day.

"I—"

"Don't worry, I know you were busy with tech."

"Yeah. They got me wrapped up in their troubles, but 's all fine."

"Ever thought beating the complete shit out of them?"

"Jenna, you can't just say that!"

"But they've been literally hogging you from me! And I think that's completely unfair!"

"But you really shouldn't. You'd probably end up getting destroyed, especially with your height."

"Oh, but I definitely should. Besides, we're the same height, Y/n."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Okay, you know what, tempting as it sounds, I don't think violence is the answer."

She scoffs another time, a crease in her forehead. "Well, it's definitely an option worth considering."

After a moment of silence, you carry her to the living room, her legs dangling as you lift her from her feet and settle her onto the soft-cushioned couch.

You start to pull away once you set her down, stretching your body after a tense day, yet a certain someone was making grabby hands for you while shooting a look with her eyes begging you to stay.

"Y/n, don't you want to stay here with me?" She pulls you closer, locking her legs around yours.

Oh, Jenna knows damn well you couldn't resist her.

"Jenna, just relax," you gently tug her legs apart with your own, letting them fall as she permits, "I'll just get you some water."

She tugs at the hem of your shirt, "Then I'll come with!" Her smile almost comes back alive and she's already clinging onto your arm.

"Jenna. The love of my life."

"Y/n?"

"You're tired, stressed, snappy, grum—"

"Okay, I am not grumpy or snappy!" Jenna bites back almost immediately. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

You shoot her a look. A yup-thats-why-look, and it's enough to get a pout to form on her lips.

"Grumpy, and you're still damp from the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if you wake up with a cold in the morning." You gently pat her head before sitting her back down. "I'll be quick, alright? You know I'm not going far just for a glass of water."

"Fine," Jenna huffs, "But you better hurry back! Ten seconds, tops!"

With a smile playing on your lips, you roll your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. And of course, Jenna's gaze from the couch was following you. You know patience was never Jenna's strong suit when it comes with you.

It wasn't even a few seconds before you heard,

"Y/nnnn!" Jenna's voice calls out from the living room, almost sounding like a groan and a whine.

It's almost amusing how someone as seemingly nonchalant yet sweet as Jenna could also be this puddle of affection and clinginess when it came to you.

You chuckle to yourself before quickly making your way back to her, holding out the glass of water for her.

"That was well over ten seconds." Jenna remarks, downing the water in one go before setting the glass on the coffee table. Then, she pulls you back towards her, and before you know it, you're both collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, I thought I did great." You say before Jenna tackles you into a very tight hug.

Leaning back against the cushions, you let out a sigh, feeling the everything slowly melting away when she's in your arms. Jenna inches closer, resting her head on your chest as you wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

"Hug me tighter, y/n." She murmurs softly, almost demanding if she didn't have a soft melody to her voice, her body warm against yours and her breathing seemed to be in sync with your own.

"You'll die if I do." You sigh contentedly.

Jenna lets out a huff, her breath warm against your skin and her scent was all too comforting. That earthy rain smell and her aromatic fragrance. "You know that I don't mind," she replies, "Of course you'd think I'd care if I died in your arms."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, Jenna." You shake your head once against, ruffling her hair as you give her an extra squeeze before loosening your hold slightly to let her breathe.

"You want dinner?" You whisper to her after, not even above a decibel just for her to relax. "I didn't get the chance to stop by at the bakery."

"Please," comes Jenna's response.

You know what a full-on smile with dimples from her sounds and feels like when she has that hopeful and happy tune to her otherwise grumpy voice today.

You slowly pull yourself back up, gently pushing Jenna off your chest. And also unknowingly pulling a koala trapped in a 5'1, 22 year old body named Jenna Ortega clinging onto your back.

"Jenna."

She buries her head into the crook of your neck, eyes half-lidded. "Mmm… Yeah?" It's honestly surprising how she can actually and literally attach herself to you.

"Jenna, you have to let go so I can cook." Even as you ask her to release herself, you adjust to her weight on your back, carefully making your way to the kitchen, your hands securely holding onto her legs.

"You can cook just fine, Y/n," she whines, "You have two arms."

"And you," you reply, gently patting her legs, "have two legs and two arms. I can't cook with you piggybacking, baby."

You can tell the nickname made her smile. "Yeah, but I don't have a built-in Y/n in my system that I can cuddle with all day. So please just let me be."

"No, Jenna—You're gonna get hurt."

You reach the kitchen and gently lower Jenna from her back, setting her down on the kitchen island.

Her arms still lingered around your neck for a moment before she reluctantly, and against her will so it seems, lets go. "You know how frantic I am when I cook."

"Then maybe, you're not a good cook."

"I'm trying to keep my girlfriends, which is you, may I add, life out of harms way."

"Maybe that's the reason why you're not a good cook."

"Jenna."

Grabby hands, once again, making a return and tugging you by your shirt collar. But this time, you resist.

"Whyyyyyyy?" she whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a Jenna Ortega fashionable pout. "Do you hate me, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes playfully before booping her on the tip of her nose. "I'm cooking you a meal to show that I love you, baby." You pull back yourself and put on an apron standing off side to the fridge, Jenna's gaze could almost burn holes into the fabric.

"Okay." She sighs, dropping her head down. "Okay, fine! Can I just hold your hand?" She looks up to see you standing in front of her, wearing the cutest apron with the well-known kiss the chef quote.

A faint blush spreads across her freckled face, and you couldn't help but smile at her.

You can't really cook with one hand that properly. But if Jenna wants you to cook for her even if you had your hands surgically removed from your body, then so fucking be it. A few missing limbs can't top a few smiles from your girlfriend.

"Alright, baby." You place take her hand and lead her to the stove where it seemed like you've got everything prepared. "Just get behind me when there's oil splashing, mkay?"

A few minutes pass by with Jenna's hand in yours while you cook. Her head leans against your shoulder as she stands close.

Between the two of you, Jenna was always the one who takes over the cooking part of the relationship, no matter how much you insist cooking for her. But you're grateful and very fortunate now that she's allowing you to take over. Plus, Jenna keeps you entertained with her witty remarks and random stuff about her day.

Oh, what a life you're living in.

"You didn't cook for yourself?" Jenna's voice interrupts your thoughts as you plate a serving of salmon topped with herbs, accompanied by sliced lemon and a few kiwis. With the skin left on, of course, just how she likes it. Only for your loving girlfriend.

You shake your head, taking her hand and her plate in the other, leading her to the dining table. "I'm good. I had a late lunch earlier," you reply, gently placing the plate on the table and sitting her down. "Besides, it's not often I get to cook for you. It wouldn't be as special if I cooked for myself too."

Jenna's eyes almost appear teary as she looks at you. "Please never show yourself again in public. I seriously cannot lose you." She replied almost immediately.

If you didn't miss it, you would've seen the adoration and love shining in Jenna's gaze. It's as if she wants to ditch the meal entirely and cover your face with kisses.

You swear you probably ate a seed in your chest by how you kept feeling warmth bloom in your heart at her. "How can I do that if I'm an actor?" You chuckle, "They'd probably question you first if I disappear."

Jenna takes her fork and points it at you, slicing a piece of salmon with her spoon. "Hey, I've seen the tweets about people practically drooling over you. It's like they're your lover and not mine!"

You crease your forehead, crossing your arms, "You get more thirst tweets more than I do!"

"And I believe you contribute to that percentage." She raises one eyebrow, smirking at your direction before chewing on another piece of salmon. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

A factual one at that.

You almost choke at your own words. "Oh, you know me so well."

A sigh escapes your lips, your smile still in place. "Besides, we're not exactly public, are we?" Leaning in, you draw Jenna into your own little world. "You're the only one who gets the real me. If I leave, I'll cross my heart on my own and I'll die on my own."

Jenna looks at you while taking a bite of her salmon, chewing slowly as if she's contemplating something, a tug in her lips. "Mn, guess so."

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

You'd think you'd get some work done, maybe memorize future scripts or send out some emails to directors asking if you could audition for a show at one in the morning.

Instead, you're lying in bed with Jenna.

Or maybe a koala in this case.

In bed. Blankets over the both of you. Pillow's a bit too comfy to even think about getting up. Plus, the koala in question may or may not have hidden your phone and charger.

Jenna wasn't always a light sleeper. Sometimes, you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting up with a blanket draped over her entire body, furiously typing away in her notes app. It's endearing, but also makes you wonder if she's ever dabbled in witchcraft.

Now, she's wide awake to even be one.

Her eyes closed and her breathing steady enough to lull you asleep. The atmosphere is cozy, and so is your girlfriend laying atop of you.

Her arms were wrapped around yours for the millionth time while her head rests on her favorite part of your chest, her head staring off to the side as if she's trying to hear your heartbeat.

You thought she'd be passed out after dinner, but she dragged you by the cuffs of your hoodie and lead you to the bedroom.

"Jenna," you whisper not above even the slightest decibel, "I have work to do." The gentle rise and fall of her chest steadies in sync with yours, her head tilting slightly in the other way, and the grip she has on your body suddenly got tighter. It's already as if you'll fly away from her.

She huffs as she raises her head to face yours. "Your work—whatever that is—can wait, but I can’t." The room is dim, too dim, yet you could see the slight dip in her bottom lip.

You know you should focus, but with her so close, it's hard to think about anything else other than, 'Nah, fuck it. I'll live.'

You bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, gently brushing her messy fringe away from her face. Even in this dim light, you could see her freckles scattered across her face like vines making something so abandoned a painting.

Jenna sighs when she looks at you. "Y/n, how long are you gonna keep me playing the waiting game?"

"The waiting game? What even is that—"

"Can you kiss me?"

Oh. Her eyes become almost second nature to her words.

"Because I remember being woken up to the most gorgeous person ever but they didn't give me kisses, and I think—mpmhmmh..."

It took all your effort not to pull her into a kiss.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain.

Truth be told, you miss the way her lips hung on yours, she was perfect in every way. How her arms would wrap around you, how she'd reach up to tug on your jawline, tracing every thing you had offered her, how you would push back only for her to pull you closer.

The kiss soon ended with you and Jenna locking eyes. No words exchanged but the heavy breath the both of you took apart from eachother.

"—I think I might die..." Her words are breathless, her arms perfectly secured around your neck as you sit up.

You smile at her. "Well, I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"No," she breathes, taking hold of your cheeks before sitting up herself. "No, I'm still six feet underground if you don't continue what you were doing."

"You know, I'm starting to like the waiting game."

"Make me play that shit again, it'll be the last time you'll ever make a decision."

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

jennaortega

Liked by ememyers and 1,398,938 others jennaortega goodnight to my gorgeous gorgeous girl @.y/l/n x 6 hours ago

natalieortega1: My fav girls!

joysunday: what lovely neighbors we have here

ememyers: !?@#%%#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

user: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

moosa_mostafa_: we never knew....

user: MY??????? MY???????? WHAT MY WHY MY?????????????????????

user: now how long....

georgieebleu: the coolest ever

user: WHATS IT FINNA PLAY??????

naomijogawa: two losers having a loser rs

user: having a heart attack holYHIST WHAT HT FUCK

user: literally stop.

hunterdoohan: Respect!!!!

user: shit so insane she got the whole cast to comment

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

In short, Jenna won. Plus, she got all the kisses and cuddles she wanted until the alarm hit. (When it did, your name was surprisingly all over social media along with Jenna.)

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gnreader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega

692 notes · View notes

pixiiipie · 13 days

Note

Since your my only hope for sub zayne stuff. If you have any spare time could you write a dom to sub fic? please🙇‍♂️. I love your content

jealous boy

awww i’m so honoured i’m just a single mom supporting all my kids <3 and thank youu! i rly like dom-> sub things but writing it is a whole other story 😵‍💫 writing dom character things are rly hard i dont wanna make it actually awful. hope you like my attempt <333

authors note!: the dom part of this is very small and mostly just body language and some not super sexual things. just zayne being possessive and jealous but we soon sort him out. mostly comforting him. i don’t really like this… i promise i can write things that aren’t sickly sweet!!

it was very rare for zayne to have a day off let alone a whole weekend. he committed himself fully to his work but even though they rely a little too much on him, his colleagues (and you) insisted that he took some time off. to help him completely forget about his ‘abandoned duty’, you treated him with days out and simple moments of intimacy to reward him.

on one of these days, you took him to a bakery to pick out any dessert he wished to enjoy in the park. although it took some time for him to allow you to spoil him like this, he happily pointed out a few treats for the both of you (though he was quick to repay you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers-of course he knows-intimately arranged on your way home). it was a lovely warm day and it felt warmer with every longing gaze zayne looked at you with. he’d never been as happy as he was in that moment.

after your long day, you both decided to stay in and enjoy a home cooked meal in each others company (the flowers weren’t enough and zayne really wanted to treat you to your favourite restaurant but you managed to push him home instead- it was his day! you were spoiling him!). cooking together was a shared activity that you and him tried to do as often as you could. making something for both of you to enjoy and feel proud of as you danced around each other was a perfect way to end any day.

however, this time it felt a little different. instead of his usual actions where he would occasionally come over to press kisses to your head as you chopped vegetables, he barely left you unsupervised and would (a little too tightly) hold you by the waist occasionally brushing his fingers over any bare skin he could reach. noticing this, you tried to bring it up with him whenever he did something like this but zayne was too good at remaining in control of his tone and brushed it off. even if he didn’t give it away with his responses, you knew him and could tell something was up.

you planned to talk to him about this over dinner where you could watch him without being distracted. hopefully things didn’t turn sour and ruin what was a beautiful day with him. since you were still trying to spoil him, you insisted for him to sit at the table and you’ll dish up and bring the food over. obediently, he does so but his demeanour is making you a little uneasy. you’ve dealt with many of his different emotions and are stating to be able to tell how he’s feeling even if it’s not obvious to others but this was new.

as you set his plate down in front of him, he pulled you onto his lap in one quick motion and kissed you. this took you off guard since although you’ve been trying to get him to open up to you and act with more confidence, this was a first. it was difficult to gain control of the kiss but he soon stopped as you lightly hit his back. “zayne what is it? what’s the matter?” you asked unintentionally avoiding pet names in your confusion and slight annoyance. he didn’t answer and instead focused on peppering kisses down your neck before sucking a prominent mark in the most sensitive place (god damn doctor).

while he did this, one hand stayed wrapped around your waist while the other firmly held onto your thigh rubbing small circles with his thumb. you’ve cuddled like this before either casually or to comfort one of you but never like this. never in such a possessive way. he didn’t do anything more than this- even if he was lost in this sudden possessive mood, he would never go further and overstep your boundaries.“you’re mine” he breathed into the crook of your neck. the words felt unnatural coming from him. “and i am yours” that felt better. it didn’t seem like zayne said this to you but more to himself as an affirmation.

his initial possessiveness was becoming desperation and it hurt your heart to see him like this. just as he was about to make another mark, you stopped him by cupping his face with your hand and tilting his head up to look at you. “zayne. my darling what’s bothering you?” your voice was stern but softened when he avoided eye contact. you kissed his forehead to coax a response from him worrying that he was embarrassed or ashamed of himself.

“you’re so beautiful” he whispered so quietly that if all your attention was not on him, you would’ve missed it. as a reward, you kissed his temple and waited for him to feel ready to continue. “i apologise for… that. i don’t know what came over me.” taking a deep breath, zayne took his hands off you and let them hang by his sides but you were quick to take one before it dropped and held it. as he spoke to you, you intertwined your fingers and traced lines over it to steady him.

“everywhere we went today,” he started but unsure where to look, “people were staring at you. that’s very natural as you are… so beautiful but they were friendly to you and likewise you were back.” you half understood what he was saying but the last part threw you. you squeezed his hand to encourage him to continue. “this is very childish of me but i think i was jealous of how well you get along with people and how they look at you. i… i didn’t want you to forget about me.”

ah so that’s what it was. usually when he’s jealous, he owns up to it in a “yes i was jealous, so what?” or “i was not jealous.” way but his entire demeanour was different. he didn’t feel sour, just sad.

“my darling zayne,” you say, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles which made him look at you, “you kiss are a very kiss silly man.” a fond expression crossed your face to help him understand that you weee teasing. “you said it earlier you are mine.”

“i am yours.” he finishes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. zayne let his head fall against yours and breathed deeply. you were the biggest comfort to him in every way. “besides, everyone in the hospital looks at you like you’re god incarnate! they can’t help but sing your praises.” you say rubbing his back.

“they’re not you though.” zayne says. that was the sweetest thing about him. people would flock over him and admire him but nothing they said would ever come close to how warm you made him feel with a simple word. finally moving his other hand, he gently took your face and allowed you to close the gap between you both. kissing always felt better when you took the lead. kissing always felt better when it was with you.

taking this opportunity to straddle him, you return the favour and kiss a trail down to his neck to mark him up. zayne keeps a softer hold on your waist and tries his hardest not to move as you kissed and bit all over his neck. no matter how hard he tried though, trying to suppress his soft whines became more difficult the more you continued.

“there. now you know i’m not lying.” you say, sitting back to admire your work. zayne’s entire figure was struggling to not slump over as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes. those eyes were a stark contrast from the look he gave you a few minuets ago. you knew what that face was. “use your words darling. what do you need?” you whisper with a smirk taking his chin to look at you.

“you” was all he could muster and all he could think of.

“cute. that’s my good boy.” you say leaning close to his ear as your hands unbuttoned his trousers. “how’s this, my love?” zayne nodded, carefully rubbing your waist and back too embarrassed to speak. just as you managed to free his dick, you move some of his hair out of his face and ask, “what would you like?” blowing a little cold air towards it to make him twitch.

“mmn just your hand please. i’d like to kiss you more.” zayne replies. all he wants right now is to be close to you and be reminded that here, in this universe, in this lifetime, you love him and he is yours. fulfilling his request, you kiss him deeply and start moving your hand just to hear him moan into your mouth. you loved the subtle change in his body language whenever you touched him like this. zayne truly melts and his body becomes even more obedient to you. all he wants is you.

“zayne, my love, you know there’s no need to be jealous of all those people today.” you say watching him try to hide his face as you call him out. hearing you call him ‘jealous’ made him feel immature. “you’re the only one i want to do this to.” you add, twisting your wrist and kissing his cheek. your legs were holding him down but it was becoming increasingly difficult to not buck into your hand.

“please… only do this hnng- with me.” he pleaded his breathing becoming heavier and shakier “i- haah… i love y-you.” zayne was so soppy but it made you want to spoil him more. he could get anything he wanted when he acted like this and he probably knows it. while one of your hands worked on his dick, you moved the other under his shirt to play with his nipples. over time, you’ve been building him up and trying to make them more sensitive and he’s mentioned how they’re starting to feel good (in a very blunt way of course. very professional, very straightforward, very much breaking eye contact).

“c-careful!” zayne gasped, his body jolting forwards to the added stimulation. “i love the way your body reacts to things. i wish i could cary out a doctor’s inspection of it.” you muse mostly to yourself taking time to admire him.

“mmaybe o-one day.” he shudders as you focus your attention on his other nipple. with this promise, you increase your movements wanting to test everything on him now. “you’re so pretty like this zayne. i want to show you off to everyone.” you say moving back to his neck trying to get him close. “nno haah…” he whined not wanting to share this moment with anyone but you.

“but… seeing you like this is for my eyes only.” your hot breath on his neck and what you were saying made it hard for him to concentrate and a familiar feeling started to build. “y-yes…yes oh gods yes mmghhh just f-for you.” he babbles tilting his head back to give you more access.

“cum for me darling. i love you.” you say sucking one last mark onto him which makes him practically whine at how good you were making him feel. “tha-ank you mmghhh l-love haah- love-!” his breathing became erratic for a moment before he let out a long moan, relishing in the moment. he came over your hand and a little got on his exposed stomach but you’d be helping him out of his clothes soon enough. the day was over but you hadn’t finished spoiling him.

it didn’t take zayne too long to come back to his senses although his head was still a little foggy. he readjusted himself and rested his head on your shoulder subconsciously nuzzling a little. “‘m sorry.” he mumbled. pressing a kiss onto his head you simply reply “there’s nothing to be sorry for it’s okay. i’m just glad you’re okay.” you were so warm to him he was so lucky to have you.

“dinners cold.” he then says a little dejectedly. even though he wasn’t quite in his right mind when you were making it, you two were still making it together and he hates the idea that he wasted a home cooked meal just because of how he acted. “let’s order a take out! it’s been a little while and it’s good for you to eat unhealthy things sometimes.” you say trying to comfort him. he only scoffed in response which meant he was feeling a little like his usual self. this otherwise annoyed response made you smile.

“it’ll take a little while for it to get here,” zayne says moving his head from its safe place, “please, allow me to return the favour to you and apologise in the meantime. this is how i want to spend my days off.”

if you enjoyed, please consider liking or even reblogging! any kind of interaction let’s me know that you liked this and gives me motivation to write more. make sure to follow to stay up to date with all my thoughts <3

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mattsenthusiast · 3 months

Text

Matt Sturniolo NSFW abc

Warnings: smut obviously, and the rest is a surprise🤭 enjoy!!!

a- aftercare (how are they like after sex?)

(Dom!Matt) He definitely is the sweetest when it comes to asking whether you’re alright, even though I feel like he would be extremely sleepy afterwards. You’d both be cuddled into each other, his hands stroking your back, just enjoying your presence.

(Sub!Matt) He’s in complete sex bliss for the rest of the night and you are not getting him out of bed. When you’d want to get up to bring him some water, etc. he’d just pull you into him and not let you go. Extremely clingy and needs you by his side.

b- body part (what’s their favorite body part of yours? + favorite part of their own body?)

He’s a big boobs guy, come on, but to be honest, he loves everything that he can squeeze: your thighs, hips or even stomach. He just loves to feel the soft skin and watch it bounce.

(Dom!Matt) He loves his hands, mostly because you always tell him how attractive they are. They’re always looking nice, his nails painted and multiple rings resting around his long fingers. His favorite thing is putting two of his digits into your mouth and makes you suck on them.

(Sub!Matt) His eyes 100%. You always tell him how pretty he looks under you with those puppy eyes of his while you make a mess out of him. He loves when you force him to keep eye contact with you.

c- cum (anything to do with cum.)

(Dom!Matt) Matt the munch, what can I say. He would make you cum multiple times with his tongue until you’re begging him to stop. It’s always ,,one more time” but in reality, it leads to him spending at least another half an hour in between your thighs.

(Sub!Matt) After you overstimulate him with three orgasm in a row and his stomach is painted with loads of his cum, he loves when you dip your fingers into it and bring them to your or his mouth. Especially if you kiss him right after that.

d- dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

(Dom!Matt) He’s absolutely obsessed with your perfume and your scent just makes him super turned on. When you’re having sex, he’d be glued to your neck just to smell it. In public, he’d always have his head on your shoulder and his hand is either covering or rubbing his bulge.

(Sub!Matt) Loves having absolute no control over anything and just have you take care of him. You can tie him up and use one of your vibrators on his tip and he’d be the happiest man alive.

e- experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, he could have maximum one body, but I really think that he was a virgin. He knows what he’s doing though and even if he doesn’t then he’s a fast learner. This man reads smut literally argue with a wall his head is full of filthy ways to pleasure both of you.

f- favorite position (what is their favorite position?)

He loves to see your face when you two fuck, so missionary. His second favorite is cowgirl, because he can see your boobs bounce with each thrust.

g- goofy (are they serious during sex? etc.)

I don’t think he’s really goofy unless something goes not according to plan and you both laugh to make the mood lighter and for the other to not feel embarrassed.

h- hair (how well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s not fully shaved but definitely well trimmed, doesn’t really feel comfortable and ,,bare” if he got nothing there. When it comes to you, he couldn’t care less.

i- intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect?)

(Dom!Matt) This man would worship the shit out of you. Even if you’re having rough sex, he’d always make sure you know that he thinks you’re the most perfect thing in the world and would leave marks everywhere on your body.

(Sub!Matt) He loves when you go rough on him no matter if it’s scratching his back or overstimulation, count him the fuck up. He needs to be sure that he’s doing a good job, so you have to make sure to whisper prises every two sentences.

j- jack off (masturbation headcannon)

He doesn’t have a lot of time during the day, so he’d rather just have sex with you durning the night. But when you two are away from each other, he would either masturbate to your pictures or call you and have phone sex.

k- kink (what kink or kinks do they have?)

(Dom!Matt) I feel like he’d love to make pictures/ videos of you while you guys fuck. He came on your titts? He takes a picture. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head while you moan his name? He makes a video. Just anything to do with capturing the moment.

(Sub!Matt) Bondage and just having no control over anything that’s going on. You teasing him while he can do nothing but whine and beg for you to touch him, turns him on to an impossible level. He also swears that he could cum just from watching you tie his hands up with that beautiful red rope of yours.

Also a good roleplay will really do it for him.

l- location (where is their favorite place to do it?)

He needs to take his time and have all of the necessities next to him, so his or your bedroom. I feel like he’s just the most comfortable there. Doesn’t mind doing it in the car or other places once in a while but mostly likes to keep it in the bed.

m- motivations (what turns when on during sex?)

(Dom!Matt) Your moans. That’s all that needs to be said, this man is a sucker for your noises. The fact that he’s the only one making you feel like this is giving him satisfaction and encouragement to make you feel the best he can.

(Sub!Matt) Actually you humiliating him, making him cum in his pants, or calling him a needy slut really gets him going. He doesn’t know why he’s so worked up by you seeing him as desperate but, he just is.

n- no (what’s off limits when it comes to sex?)

There’s not much that he wouldn’t do, but I think he would rather not participate in a heavy breath play. It’s because of his anxiety, but the idea of you having your hand around his throat is still hot to him. He doesn’t mind performing it on you though, unless you also have anxiety (same bitch) then if you state it to him, he will only lightly decorate your neck with his hand and make sure that you’re okay.

o- oral (do they prefer receiving or giving, etc?)

He can eat pussy day and night, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Absolutely loves being buried in between your plushy thighs and just taste you. He also loves when you sit on his face. But definitely wouldn’t turn down a good blow job offer if you gave him one. I feel like he has an oral fixation, and just loves to suck your fingers, boobs, etc.

p- pace (are they fast and rough/soft and sensual?)

(Dom!Matt) If he knows that you don’t have a limited time, he goes slow but hard, hitting your deepest spots with each thrust. Unless he’s really desperate because you’ve been teasing him, then the first round will definitely be rough and fast.

(Sub!Matt) He’s a sucker for when you ride him at a fast peace. The image of him disappearing inside of you in such speed, just does it for him. Also because your titts bounce, but it’s already obvious.

q- quickies (what are their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a big fan of them, he needs to take his time and have the foreplay and aftercare. But if you insist on one, then he’ll take you to the nearest bathroom and still make you feel good (or sneak a hand in your underwear under the table ;))

r- risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

OH HE SO TAKES THE RISK. He’s not the type of man to turn down a challenge after all. He’s willing to try almost everything at least once. Even if either one of you doesn’t enjoy something that much, he’s still glad to have experienced that. You guys also really trust yourself, so if one of you is severely uncomfortable, you can always use a safe word.

s- stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)

(Dom!Matt) I think it’s usually one or two, maximum three, but it’s rare. That’s because each round is long and sensual so there’s no need for you go for thirty rounds. If he takes breaks while thrusting into you, then I think he can last up to an hour. However, if there’s no breaks, then it’s not more than 20 minutes on a good day.

(Sub!Matt) SUCKER for when you overstimulate him. Loves when you make him count his orgasm, and his record is 8 in one night. He will beg you to stop, but deep down knows, that he needs more and not use the safe word.

t- toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

(Dom!Matt) He keeps some toys in his room for when you have sex in there, but only uses them on you. Not often though, because he likes to do the work himself but putting it to your clit, while he eats you out is not unusual. He also fucks you with a toy instead of his dick if you’re disobeying him.

(Sub!Matt) Owns at least one vibrator and loves when you put it to his tip. He also has a fleshligh, let’s face it😭 doesn’t use it often since you guys started dating though.

u- unfair (how much they like to tease?)

(Dom!Matt) When you guys are out on a dinner, he’s THE WORST, putting his hand up your skirt, adjusting himself so you can see the outline of his hard dick, and ,,accidentally” rubbing against you whenever you two are close. Loves to tease you.

(Sub!Matt) Constantly catches breaths in his throat when you brush your hand against his dick when you’re out. Makes you sit on his lap to hide the fact that he’s hard, but it only makes it worse, because feeling your ass rubbing on him usually ends in him making a mess in his underwear.

v- volume (how loud are they during sex? what sounds do they make etc.)

Oh he’s loud as fuck. Not scared to let his sounds get to your head and let you know how good he feels. He’s mostly a moaner and whimperer, especially while being submissive, but also whispers long trails of curses all the time.

w- wildcard (a random head cannon)

One time you dressed up in a cop uniform and pretended to arrest him. You bent him over the table and forced his hands behind his back to cuff them in your shackles. Turns out he has a uniform kink and was having the time of his life when you rode him with the tight blue shirt halfway unbuttoned and the metal around his wrists.

x- x-ray (what’s going on under their clothes?)

He’s big, and I mean BIG when I say that. He’s probably around 7-8 inches, with a good girth. There’s also a vein on the left side of his dick.

y- yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s not a horny horse that can’t keep it in his pants all the time. He often gets turned on when you’re next to him, even if you’re not exactly doing anything sexual, but if he has to, he can keep it to himself and just spend a sweet time with you.

z- zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

(Dom!Matt) He needs to make sure that you’re comfortable and taken care of first. But after the aftercare, when he lays down next to you and you two cuddle, he passes out in an instance.

(Sub!Matt) Basically sleeping right after you are done with him. When you ask him if he needs anything, he just mumbles something under his breath and sticks his arms out for you to come and hug him.

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #smut #Spotify

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary steve harrington is your boyfriend now. your boyfriend. and having a boyfriend means doing lots of new things, like dinner dates and movies, cuddling on the couch and kissing — lots of kissing. but there’s one thing you guys haven’t done yet, and steve’s just asked you to spend the night. [17.3k words]

warnings SMUT 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff heavy, new established relationship, first time, an overload of intimacy and affection, p in v sex, pet names, steve being the most loving dork on the entire planet and r being equally infatuated, mentioned that r has stretch marks, proofread not perfect

this is a companion to have you seen her? you don’t have to read it to understand, but if you want to it’s here <3

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Inside a sea of flowers lies a girl. Her skin glows with colour, the reflection of pigments. Sunspots of darkest red buffeted by buttery orange, indigo stretching into magenta, whites; endless whites ranging from creamy ivory to the violet shine of snow in the nighttime.

It's as if the flowers themselves bloom over your skin. Steve blinks and everything settles, your skin returns to skin, the reflections fade from focus. You stretch your leg out absentmindedly and lean forward to follow the book resting against the top of your thigh, entirely distracted.

The room smells as bright and fresh as the florist's itself. The flowers he'd given you, more than he could ever name, permeate everything. Most remain in good condition two weeks later, where some wilt despite your dedicated care.

Your fingertips are pin-pricked by the thorns of a rose's stem, injuries sustained in the hours you've spent preening each bouquet. You bring one such fingertip to your lips and suck lightly for a moment like it'll draw the small pain from your skin.

He leans against the doorway and takes in your appearance indulgently. Plaid pyjama bottoms hug your thighs. Your socked feet wiggle along to the sounds of your Walkman, music loud enough that you've missed his entrance.

He doesn't want to scare you into flinching and ruin the content little bubble you're in but he's certainly not about to turn around and leave after waiting all day to see you, no matter how selfish it might be to disturb you. I'm only human, he thinks.

"Hey, beautiful," he says. You don't hear him.

Steve bends at the waist to unlace his shoes before stepping onto the plush carpeting of your room. He weaves between vases and skinny buckets, repurposed cookware and every mug you own, worried that one wrong move will domino your intricate arrangements and spill flowers everywhere.

You catch sight of him before he's made it to your side. You flinch as he suspected you would, only a small jump but a jump nonetheless.

Steve's face creases in sympathy as you pull off your headphones, orange foam padding around your neck. "I'm sorry," he says, expecting you to be at least a little peeved at his sneaking. "I knocked, I swear."

You abandon your book carelessly and are only slightly kinder to your Walkman as you tug the headphones from your neck.

"Steve," you say, smiling.

"That's me. Hey."

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, white sheets rumpled in your wake as you scramble to your feet. Steve doesn't know who does what first but he opens his arms and you've opened yours and you fit into the circle of his embrace like you were made to.

"Sorry to scare you," he says.

You're not as confident as he is. Where Steve throws his arms over your shoulders, quick to press his mouth to the skin of your forehead, your hands draw tentative lines up his back.

To be touched so carefully is numbing in the best way. Steve wonders how his affection for you can continue to grow, more when you laugh half-breathless into his chest and look up, pinning him with your bright gaze.

"That's okay," you say, your happiness to see him palpable. It makes his chest hurt.

Steve puts some space between you to hold you at arm's length, one hand clasping your shoulder and the other following the curve of your neck.

He feels almost too happy to speak, like the words won't come out right. You seem to feel similarly, smiling wide, your lips pressed together tightly.

"I missed you," he says finally. Your reaction emboldens him; your eyes crease with pleasure and he has to duck down for a kiss.

Just one, pressed chastely to the skin left of your cupid's bow. You lift your chin in reaction, your hands searching up towards his shoulder blades.

"I missed you too," you say.

He decides to push his luck and kiss you properly. Your lips are warm under his and your cheek is aflame under his hand as he cradles your face.

"Haven't been lying out in the sun again, have you?" he asks as he pulls away. Your eyes flutter open.

"Huh? No, I've been reading inside all day."

"Good. You'll get sick, you sunbathe so much," he chides with no real heat.

He squeezes your face mildly and you steal another quick kiss. Steve would let you steal as many as you want to no matter the duration, but you stick to just one.

"Are you hungry?" you ask. You don't wait for an answer, skirting around him.

His hands miss your skin as soon as you're out of reach. He follows you to the kitchen like a lost dog hungry for scraps – scraps of your voice in the shadow of your exhale, any small flash of your skin, the back of your wrist as you pull open the refrigerator door. Steve situates himself by the sink so he can see your face. Your arms quickly grow heavy with fresh vegetables and a precarious china dish, a familiar carafe slipping in your fingers.

"Here," he mutters, reaching for the glass carafe with both hands.

"Thank you," you say, giggling. "Thought I was gonna drop it."

You set everything down on the clean counter. The sun kisses your skin where it shines golden-orange through the window. A bouquet of tulips sits in the sill, thin petals translucent and bright like the bulbs are made up of sweet maraschino cherries.

"I would've caught it."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Super fast reflexes. LaRusso style," he says, putting down your carafe. Fruit slices and rose petals bob on the water's surface.

"The Karate Kid?" you ask, pushing up your sleeves.

He smiles as you walk towards him. "Exactly. You like that movie?"

You turn on the faucet and wash your hands without looking, your eyes drawn to his face. "I loved that movie. I've only seen it twice, though. Once at the movies, once with Dustin."

"You watched it with Dustin?" he asks.

Your eyes flit between the sink and his face as you turn off the faucet and shake your wet hands over the basin. "Yeah, and his mom. She's really nice, you know?"

"She's a real treasure. It's her kid I'm not too sure about."

You laugh and he loves it, less when you flick your still-wet hands at him and pattern him in tap water.

"Stop, idiot," he protests, leaning away from you.

"It's raining, babe. I don't control the weather."

"Sure."

You grin over your shoulder and flounce to the counter where your wooden chopping board resides. He's desperate to be close to you but doesn't want to look it.

It's too early to show her how much of a total loser I am, he thinks, turning to the sink and washing his hands so he can help you make dinner and steal some closeness.

"Did you have a crush on him?" he asks.

"Dustin?" you ask, horrified.

Steve laughs and rubs the slippery bar of soap between his palms. "No, weirdo, Daniel LaRusso. The Karate Kid."

"Nah, Mister Miyagi was more my type."

Steve drops the bar of soap into the basin and struggles to pick it back up, only pausing in his panic when he hears your self-satisfied giggling. It's infectious.

"That's so sick. Dude was ninety years old," he says, rinsing the suds off.

"I'm kidding!"

You're still laughing to yourself when he joins you. You've already chopped the inedible tops off of three long carrots and peeled them. You start to cut them into uniform batons, your quick peeling and knife work both impressive and daunting to Steve, who's only just weaned himself off of a steady high school diet of TV dinners and chips.

He shakes his hands at you. Flecks of water hit you and shine on your skin like the fine mist of morning dew, a dampened flower. You smell like one, though Steve supposes that's inevitable when you're sleeping surrounded by a crush of petals every night.

"Can I help?" he asks.

You blow a raspberry. "I should kick you out."

He flicks more water at you and you hide your face in your shoulder, the soft skin of your cheek pulled cruelly.

"Don't hide."

"Stop flicking me."

"It's raining, babe. I don't control the weather," he says dryly.

Finely spritzed, you open your eyes just enough to see him through your lashes, smiling like you wish you weren't. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, mostly because they're dry enough now that any flickage is negligent, and because you're much too pretty to be hiding away. The sun has begun to set, its descent marked by a gaussian blur spreading across the countertops and cabinets, your arms blanketed in a glow. Steve finds your face practically dietific to begin with – the light makes you something else entirely.

He wants to say something too heartfelt, say, Fuck, you're so pretty.

He's not that brave.

"You want a drink?" he asks.

"Yes please. You know where the cups are?"

He grabs two glass cups from the cabinet othweise pillaged for makeshift vases to your left and you cut the celery, a small lull in conversation filled only by the crisp crunch of your preparations and the slosh of Steve's pouring. The flower petals have bled their pigments into the carafe's cold water and turned it a transparent vermillion, something so quietly inordinate that he can't not mention it.

"The water's purple, babe," he says.

"Huh?" you ask. You hold the cutting board aloft, your knife guiding chopped vegetables into a shiny metal colander.

"The water," he says, punctuating his claim with a sharp click as he puts your glass down in front of you.

You discard your knife distractedly. "Oh. It must've been the rose petals."

"Can we still drink it?"

"Sure we can. Rosewater is really good for you. Though I'm not sure if this counts as rosewater, actually, I think you have to steep the petals in hot water first."

You shrug your shoulders and bring your glass to your mouth.

Steve frowns. "Are you sure?" he asks worriedly. He doesn't want you to get sick, especially from flowers he brought you.

You get a crease between your eyebrows, lips pursed quizzically. "I'm sure. You worry too much, Stevie," you say.

It's like being struck. You've never called him that before.

The nickname had sounded easy as breathing for you to say and had felt easier, felt right, like you'd used it a hundred times before.

He laughs, says, "Fine, but if you turn purple don't say I didn't warn you," and proceeds to work himself into a poorly contained frenzy.

He takes the colander to the sink and washes the carrot and celery sticks more thoroughly than he needs to whilst he composes himself. He listens with ears made keen by his racing heart as you turn on the stove. The fan hums. There's a loud crackling as you peel back the aluminum foil covering a medium sized casserole dish.

"I forgot to ask you, you like buffalo wings, right?"

He turns off the faucet and almost misses your question, too busy thinking So she called you Stevie, are you twelve? Get a hold of yourself, you-

"What?"

"I can make something else, if you don't."

Steve shakes the colander to drain any excess water as he reassures you. "No, that's okay. That's perfect. I love wings, and I'll love them double if you're the one making them." After all, you make a mean BLT.

The oven door swings open and he turns in time to watch you bend at the waist and insert the dish of chicken wings, your eyes narrowed. Adorable.

You straighten up and dust your hands off, bumping the door closed with your hip. "Awesome. Here, let me-" You take the colander from his hand like you're going to whiz away and then evidently change your mind, stuttering to a jolting stop. "Thank you," you tell him earnestly.

"You're welcome. You did all the hard work," he says, caught off guard.

"Super hard work, cutting up some carrot sticks," you say, mock-agreeably.

Steve reaches out to pinch your side. "Just because you made it look easy doesn't mean it is. It would've taken me double the time to make something, and it would've been, like, a grease fest," he says. "You already made the chicken, too, so that's more hard work you're not thinking about."

"The chicken marinades itself," you admonish lightly. You step on toes to kiss the high point of his cheek. "But thank you."

You turn to tip your veggie sticks into a bowl with a quarter inch of water at the bottom. Steve prods your kiss mark unthinkingly, the skin tingling from a combination of your gifted kiss and the affectionate tone you'd used.

"I got all kinds of dip. Hummus, artichoke and spinach, tahini, ranch. Do you like those?" you ask hopefully.

If he didn't he'd try and find a way. "Who doesn't like ranch?"

"I'll make fries too, okay?"

He really, really likes you.

Steve still looks kind of silly eating at your small kitchen table. You're in the seat that's crammed against the refrigerator and he's in the opposite. You're so close that your calves keep touching, often enough that you both forgo apologies in favour of sending the other a small smile. Less of an 'I'm sorry,' and more of a 'We touched again,' a confirmation that he's real and you're real and you're eating a home cooked meal that you made together.

He's so handsome, so ridiculously lovely, and the food is good but not good enough to keep your attention. Not when Steve takes a sip of water and his arm moves, the muscle beneath his skin shifts, pulls taut, and his shirt tightens around his bicep and you're just as hopeless as you were the very first time you'd invited him in.

He's saying something and it must be pretty funny because he's laughing, a chesty, giggling thing that sounds boyishly happy, like he just can't help it. You're not sure what he's laughing at but it's enough to set you off, infectious as it is.

"So Robin's in the back pretending to search for this movie that doesn't exist, and I'm thinking, shit, maybe I should call the police. Because he's got both hands in his pockets and, whaddya know, one pocket is like bulging out."

"Steve?" you ask, trying to sound forceful, befuddled that he's laughing at all. "Someone came into the store with a gun?"

His laugh peters off. "No," he says reassuringly. "Klondike bar."

He chews through a big mouthful of celery and you dissolve into giggles.

Cleaning up with Steve ends up being just as fun as cooking. He stands at your side with a hand towel wiping off dishes as you wash them, hip to hip.

"I can wash them," he says.

"That's okay."

You pass him a wet plate. He wipes it dry and sets it to the side. It could only be five minutes of this before you're done. Weirdly, you wish it had taken a little longer.

It's nice to spend time with him.

"I was thinking you could come over to my place tomorrow, if you wanted to."

Your heart flutters and you're hit with the realisation that you might get to do dishes with him tomorrow, and again, that today isn't a one off. That Steve likes you enough to kiss you and buy you flowers and invite you over.

"I've never been to your house," you say.

"I know. It's supposed to be really hot out tomorrow until seven. I thought you could sunbathe for an hour and I could keep an eye on you, you know. We can get takeout, listen to music," he continues, his voice soft, a melodic cadence to his suggestions.

Why is he trying to sell you on it? You hand him the last plate and twist, holding your dripping hands in the basin.

"I'd love to," you say, smiling. "Though I resent the idea that I need to be supervised."

"I just don't want all those brains to turn to mush." He puts the plate down on top of the others and reaches for your hands without saying anything, eyes on your face as he dries off your fingers gently. "Though you were super adorable when you had heat stroke. All clingy and giggly," he teases.

"Heat exhaustion," you correct. You feel like there's water in your ears.

"Mh-hm."

When your hands are to his satisfaction he swings the towel over his shoulder and takes them into his own, your fingers hooked gently over his. He rubs the fingernail of your index finger and then moves up, smoothing a path over your knuckles. He arrives at your pinky finger and wraps his index finger around it, massaging the length of it with the pad of his thumb.

"Are they still hurting?" he asks, hushed.

"A little bit. Not really, though. It's like after a splinter."

He holds your hand open, palm bared, his thumb pressed to the bottom of your last three fingers as he bends to look at your fingertips. Every touch, every detail, every movement he makes feels urgent to you, your heart racing fast as a mouse's.

"Poor girl," he mumbles to himself. He looks up and sees what must look similar to panic on your face. "Are you sure they're not hurting you? They look sore."

You're gonna say Yes, I'm sure, but he straightens up and brings your hand to his lips before you can muster the strength. He kisses your smattering of tiny injuries and grins when he's done, your entire body awash with a dizzying pleasure.

His hair is falling in his face. You take your kiss-warmed hand from his grip to tuck the longer strands behind his ear. Your heartbeat plays loud. You worry he can hear it.

You stall with your index finger shaking over his skin. Steve covers your hand with his, the look in his eyes unreadable, and you know he's going to kiss you.

You shut your eyes. His breath warms your lips as he closes in, his nose sliding against yours slowly. Your anticipation is a hand closing around your throat, at first a welcome touch and then dizzying breathlessness, an aching for the brush of his lips. He squeezes your hand where it cradles his cheek.

"Breathe," he whispers in bemusement. "Breathe, baby."

You suck in a breath and lift your chin as Steve knocks your nose with his and crosses the distance, his lips parted just slightly. Your head moves back under his kiss, your eyes screwed too tight. Steve takes your hand from his face and guides it over the slope of his shoulder until you're cupping his neck, his fingertips trailing down the length of your arm and moving under, palm to your shoulder blade. He pulls you in, makes the softest little sound against your lips that tickles madly and has a warmth like the setting sun filling your chest.

He kisses slow and sweet, his lips a softness against yours. You can feel as he starts to smile, as he takes your face into his hand, almost pulling at your skin in efforts to be impossibly nearer.

He laughs first, a huff that fans over your twin smile. You can't help but join in as you search up, ardent and excited, laughing into his open mouth until every kiss is a struggle.

"Y/N," he says. It doesn't even sound like your name. He could've said babe or baby or sweetheart and it would've burned the same.

"Do you have to go home?" you ask knowingly, reluctantly opening your eyes.

He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand.

It's getting late, a warm Thursday evening becoming night. The street lamps outside burn yellow-white in the darkening sky and the flowers on the sill have lost their shine. Steve is the brightest thing in the room.

He checks his watch and frowns. "I probably should."

"But I'll see you tomorrow?" you check.

"Did you wanna stay the night? I'm not working Saturday."

You have the first thought that most girls your age might have at a new love asking that question: sex. For a moment, a split second of a moment, Did you wanna stay the night? becomes Do you wanna have sex with me?

You give him a guilty smile and he mistakes it for something else. He says, "You don't have to, I can drive you home. And uh, you know, I would…" You bring your hand back to his face. "We wouldn't do anything you don't wanna do."

"I know," you say quickly. "Yeah, I wanna stay the night." Which is scary to admit. Scary to want.

Whether anything happens or it doesn't, you want to go.

You walk Steve out and he kisses you goodnight chastely. You watch him all the way to his car and wave as he drives away, standing in the doorway until his tail lights are a mere suggestion of white in the distance, small and bright as a pearly star.

Robin shrieks as her chair reclines back as far as it can. "Shit, why does it go back this far?"

Steve is more than tired from a full day of work and while he loves Robin to the point of dying for her, he can't handle stupid questions. His short fuse is further shortened by missing you, and he groans.

"You fucking reclined it all the way?"

Steve watches in the rear view as she raises her eyebrows and hugs herself with both arms. "It went down too easy, is all I'm saying."

"That's all?" he asks.

He knows exactly what she's implying and he refuses to feed into it, even when she hums to herself happily. Her happiness lasts for only a few seconds before she's springing up and giving herself whiplash.

"You haven't actually fucked in this seat, right?"

"Christ, Robin."

Her nose wrinkles. "Have you?"

"No! No, I haven't done anything in here… in a while. And me and Y/N haven't-" He bites his tongue.

"You haven't?" she asks. There's no teasing to be detected in her voice, only curiosity.

He keeps his eyes on the road but his thoughts travel elsewhere. You're so close he convinces himself for a second that he can smell your sweet floral scent, a hundred different flowers clinging to your skin. He lets himself sink further, imagining the feeling of your cheek under his hand and the softness of your skin and fine hairs, the shape of your eyes as he leans in.

"Loverboy?" Robin asks expectantly.

Steve clears his throat. "What?"

"Ew, you're being disgusting."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to," she says, and then laughs. "In deep, huh?"

"Shut up."

"I'm serious! I'm serious, you like her. And it's nice," she draws the word out hesitantly, "to see you happy. I guess. After I broke your heart, and all."

He doesn't blush like he might have before. Steve had liked Robin, a lot, and it was easy to understand why: she's the first real friend he's ever had. He's more than over his crush now, platonic (with a capital 'P') suits them well.

"Thanks, Robs," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You're welcome." She whistles. "So, you haven't fucked?"

Steve turns his face. "Don't you think that's, like, a private thing?"

"I'm your best friend."

"Y/N is an entire other person who isn't your best friend."

"I'm not gonna tell anybody."

Steve knows that. He sighs to himself, conflicted. He doesn't wanna kiss and tell but he does need advice. "She's staying over tonight."

"Ah, huzzah!" Robin cheers. Steve worries his eyes might get stuck inside his head from all the rolling. "And you're gonna…"

He chews his lip. "I don't think so. I think I scared the shit out of her when I asked her to spend the night."

"I doubt that, she still said yes. But, you know. Not all of us lose our V-card when we're in junior year."

He hadn't even thought about that. "Shit. Having a girlfriend is terrifying."

Robin laughs and throws the seat back up. "If she's scared, it might not even be about hooking up. You've been together for, what, a week?"

"Two weeks today."

Robin nods thoughtfully and then shrugs. "Forget about sex and everything and just have fun."

"I'm not a nympho." He isn't. He doesn't care if you want to hook up or not (though care might be indelicate – he won't lie and say he hasn't thought about it).

"I know. I'm just saying, there's no point worrying about if you will or won't."

He takes the turn onto Robin's street. Her house comes into view, and he suddenly realises, "I wasn't worried until you brought it up!"

"Then forget I said anything!" she shouts back, laughing.

Steve laughs too as he pulls up at the curb outside of Robin's house.

"It's fine," he says decidedly. He's still worrying about it because if you do want to hook up he's not exactly in practice right now, but underneath it is that building anticipation, an excitement. "Fuck, she's so fucking pretty, Robin."

"Sure is, idiot," Robin agrees, unbuckling and kicking open the door. "Wear a rubber or your kids will be pretty, too."

She closes the door with a smug smile.

"You're awful!" he calls at her retreating figure. She waves over her shoulder and doesn't look back.

Steve drops his head into the wheel and startles himself when it beeps.

By the time he's pulling up outside of his house he's forgotten all his sex-related nerves, any anxiety occluded by a want to see you. He rushes to clean up the huge mess he's made over the week in the kitchen and the smaller mess in the living room, soda cans and take out and all the gross things he'd rather die than have you see.

He throws open every window and heads out to the back yard to make sure the pool is actually swimmable. The sun is high but falling. The day's most punishing heat is over. Perfectly safe for sunbathing.

He doesn't have anything fancy but he fills a jug with water and tops it with badly cut orange slices to cool in the fridge while he waits for you.

Steve stretches, smells himself, realises he smells like sweat and checks his watch in alarm. Your visit is fast approaching but if he does it quickly he can shower before you get here.

He's not right. He's still in the shower when you knock the door. Steve almost kills himself as he scrambles over wet tiles. He's still basically soaking as he drags his clean clothes on, hair sopping and quickly saturating the neck of his shirt.

You smile when he opens the door, though your smile quickly fades. "I'm sorry, were you showering? I know I'm early, I just wanted to see you."

You look like you always do – pretty, so pretty, your hair a little messy, your shirt crinkled at the bottom, the slit in your skirt showing a tantalising stripe of your thigh. A breezy, thin outfit for the hot weather.

Steve couldn't say why but he needs to kiss you badly. He takes your shoulder into his hand to hold you in place and kisses the corner of your smile, your cheek, the small stripe under your earlobe. He lingers there for longer than the others, feeling the ever-present heat of your skin beneath his lips. He presses a second kiss over the first and then pulls away.

"Don't be sorry," he says. He pats your face. "I'm glad you're early. I wanted to see you more, I swear."

"You make everything a competition," you grumble, though your eyes evidence your bliss.

Steve leads you into the living room and you drop your backpack onto the couch. The sight of it makes him fawn, because you really are staying the night and you look cute and you'd wanted to see him. It's enough to make him ecstatic. It likely shows on his face.

You turn on your heels, taking it all in. "You have a really nice house, Steve."

"I'd say thank you, but it's all my parents'."

"Where are they?" you ask.

Where are they usually? He doesn't really know. "Chicago, I think? My dad's on business and mom always goes with him, so…"

You turn your eyes from the open patio door and back to Steve where he stands in the middle of the room towel drying his hair. "Lucky me, I get you all to myself," you murmur.

"Do you wanna take your shoes off?" he asks. "There's water in the fridge. Are you hungry?"

You peek up at home where you've bent down to unstrap your sandals and smile. "I'm good, Stevie," you say softly.

When you've stepped out of both sandals you hold them by the straps and they dangle from your hand, swaying with your steps as you walk towards him.

You look up at him and tilt your head to one side. Always charming, Steve's fondness for sky rockets.

"Are you okay?" you ask, a murmur, raising your hand to his bicep. Your fingers slip under his sleeve. "You seem frazzled. Long day?"

It felt endless, knowing that you'd be waiting for him.

"I'm fine. I'm good. I'm great, actually. Got a whole night with my girl."

"And tomorrow, too," you say, sounding as happy as he feels.

"What are we gonna do with it all?" he says teasingly.

Again, a flash of that nervous smile. He hadn't meant to insinuate anything at all. He's about to clarify when you bring your hand to his collar and kiss him.

Steve really likes your hands, he's fascinated by them, the way you move them and the way they feel, their tentative but tender touch as you feel along the ridge of his collar bone. You come to a stuttering pause as he kisses you harder, the wet of your tongue addictive as he opens you up.

He takes your face into both hands and pushes your face to one side so he can move in closer, thumbs careless where they press into your cheeks. You taste like something sweet and the sound you make is sweeter as he dedicates himself to your top lip, a quivering breath as he slows.

He tries not to feel smug at the lost glaze in your eyes when they blink open.

Your bottom lip shines. He wipes it clean with his thumb. "You wanna go sunbathe now?" he asks mildly.

You nod like he thought you would, slow, but then there's a sudden clarity on your face. "I brought you something."

You move out of his reach and he follows. You're only stepping towards the couch where your backpack rests, unzipping it and in no rush as you pull your pajamas out and lay them on the cushion. He tries very hard to pretend he hasn't noticed your underwear, a pair of pink lacy panties, but he thinks maybe you can tell as you turn to him with a tupperware of cookies in your hands.

"More flower shortbread?" he asks happily. "You spoil me."

"I think you're someone who deserves to be spoiled."

Steve's mouth goes dry. He holds his hands out for the tupperware and hugs it to his chest, throwing a hand around your shoulders to tug you close. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome."

He takes your hand and pulls you out into the backyard. You beam, your head tilting back to take in the warmth of the fading sun.

Steve drags two sun loungers close together and you waste no time in stretching out on one.

You bloom.

There's no other word for it. You unfurl like the petals on your beloved flowers. Your body relaxes completely. Steve reaches across the gap to take your hand again and they hang between your languid bodies.

You're smiling as you balance your red shiny Walkman across your chest and click play, adjusting the volume until the feminine scratch of Cyndi Lauper echoes over the concrete space of his backyard. You close your eyes soon after, and Steve knows he might not get as much conversation out of you as he craves but it's worth it to see you like this, to hold your hand.

He struggles to open your tupperware with one hand but doesn't consider letting you go, eyebrows furrowing at the stubborn lid.

When it clicks it's loud and he inhales fast, worried the entire thing is gonna topple off of his chest and your perfect shortbread biscuits will be destroyed. Flower petals adorn the top. Steve picks them off while you're not looking – they're beautiful, of course, and don't taste like much, but the texture is super weird.

"How was work?" you ask.

He takes a big bite of shortbread. "It was fine. I mean, it was fucking boring as hell. We watched Back to the Future again."

"I've never seen that movie."

"Never?"

"No. Is it good?"

He squeezes your fingers and pushes the rest of the shortbread into his mouth. It's not too sweet. You've dusted the tops with fine sugar that melts in his mouth and the crumbly texture is awesome, better than any store bought cookies he's ever tried.

He swallows and lets his head fall back, greedy enough to pick up a second one. "Wanna hear a story?"

You turn your head towards him and your eyes crack open. "A good one?"

"Depends on your politics."

You close your eyes. "Tell me."

"The first time I saw Back to the Future was at the Starcourt mall with Robin. We were high out of our minds, total whitey's. And I had a concussion, so I was… worse."

Your eyes open fast. Your one shoulder lifts, like you might have to protect him from something. "What?" you ask, frowning.

He pulls your hand towards him, a tug, not to come closer but more in an everything is okay, kind of way.

"It's fine. Anyways, we laughed our asses off and left before the end. The first time we watched it sober I thought it was the wrong movie."

"Why did you have a concussion?"

He shakes the tupperware at you until you take one. Only when you've bitten into it does he answer, though he's not entirely truthful, "It was like, you know how there was a fire?" he asks. You nod. "Well, everything in starcourt was fucking janky, and we went down this one elevator shaft and- concussion." He explains without explaining. He doesn't lie.

No way is he ready to tell you about all the weird shit he's had to deal with. Not yet. He doesn't wanna scare you off or scare you at all, and the upside down shit is fucking terrifying.

You take his explanation without any suspicion and he feels a little guilty.

"You should get workers comp," you say, brows pinched.

He chuckles and rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. Being cared about like this is so weird, he thinks. How mad and worried you are over something that happened before you knew him makes him feel hot, something electric and melting on top of his chest.

"You wanna be my lawyer?" he asks, grinning.

You reach for another shortbread. "I wouldn't know the first thing about it."

"You'd look cute in a suit, though."

"Shush," you mumble. You roll your thumb over your shortbread until the flower petals fall off. "They're so pretty but they feel so weird. Maybe I shouldn't put them on there."

He looks at the scattered flower petals on the floor to his left where you can't see them. "Nah, I like 'em."

You glow. "If you like them I guess I'll leave them on there."

"That's generous. You'd never be a good lawyer."

"Lawyers can be generous! They do stuff for free, right? Pro-bono. Like that one movie last year, with the guy who kills his wife, but he doesn't kill his wife, but he totally does, um…"

"Jagged Edge."

"Jagged Edge! Exactly."

"Was she pro bono?" he asks sceptically.

"Maybe not," you say, and laugh. "That movie sucked."

"Better than Back to the Future."

You choke on a laugh and pull your hand out of his to dust yourself off. He misses your touch but doesn't complain, clicking the lid back onto your tupperware and hiding them under the lounger from the heat. The sunshine is amazing, not too suffocating but definitely warm enough to melt him into jelly. He'd been a little worried about wearing shorts rather than jeans but you hadn't mentioned anything.

He combs his hair out of his face and wonders if it looks awful. It probably does. Only the strands closest to his neck feel chilly with damp, half dried by the sunshine.

"Steve," you say shyly.

He turns back to you and you're sitting up, one leg off the lounger.

"What?"

"Can I… you don't mind if I take off my shirt, do you?" you ask.

He's quick to assure you. "No way, beautiful. Throw it off."

You huff a laugh and cross your arms. Steve's fascinated by the way you take off your shirt, how you've dragged the front over your face where he would've grabbed the back and pulled indelicately. Your back arches and your chest moves up as it comes off.

You're wearing some sort of animal print bikini top underneath, a cheetah or a panther or something. Steve watches the curves of your breasts rise as you breathe in and then snaps his gaze to your face, guilty. You aren't looking at him, busy fiddling with the Walkman in your lap.

"Do you have anything you wanna listen to?" you ask him offhandedly. "I brought this and A Night at the Opera, but if there's something else you wanted to-"

"Night at the Opera?"

"Queen?" you ask.

"Like Hammer to Fall?" he asks.

You turn to face him entirely, skirt ruffled by a gentle breeze. "That's their new one. Night at The Opera is from, like, '76? '75? It has that really long one. And there was," you start giggling, your words all jumpy and honeyed, "there's one called 'I'm in Love with my Car.'"

"Sounds like an album for me. I'll go get it."

You spring up, something he can't read on your face. You look fucking insane shirtless, all soft and shiny, the lightest sheen of sweat illuminating the hills and dips, the slope of your shoulder, the lengths of your arms. "No, I'll do it. I'll get the water at the same time."

He watches you pass back into the house from over his shoulder. "It's in the fridge!" he calls.

"I guessed!"

He wonders for a second why you'd sounded nervous before remembering your underwear. His cheeks go a similar colour as he tries not to think about it, only he can't not think about it. They had not constituted a great deal of fabric, and then he's wondering how much the current ones are made up of and feeling guilty for that too.

She's my girlfriend, he thinks. I can think about these things. Not, like, obsessively. But in passing. God, she's fucking beautiful. He descends into a panicked reasoning.

Steve scrubs his face with his hand and looks out over the pool. It's been a while since they used it. He can't say he wants to use it after last time, and he definitely wouldn't consider any night time swimming but if you want to splash around in there in the daylight hours he's not gonna stop you.

You flounce back onto the patio with the cold jug in your hands and two glasses hugged to your chest, the cassette in the other. "Here, Stevie, can you-"

"Yeah." He stands up. He takes the cassette and jug from you and you manoeuvre the glasses into your hands. "Swap?" he asks.

You swap one glass for the cassette and the two of you sit down in tandem. Steve pours water for you both as you take Cyndi Lauper out, the cold a blessing. He holds his glass to his face and sighs.

"It's still hot even though it's late," you say knowingly.

"Endless Indiana summer." You're struggling with the cassette, your lips puckered in confusion. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I think I jammed it."

He watches you struggle with the lip that doesn't wanna open. "Pass it over?" he offers.

You pass it as soon as he asks, moving to sit by his side. He's very gentle with the small machine that you've once or twice affectionately monikered your 'baby'. He doesn't know a lot about tech and doesn't know why he offered. It had felt automatic. You had a problem and he just wanted to fix it.

The button that usually opens the door is pressed down, but the door is closed. He digs his fingernail under the button and pulls it up until it pops back into place and tests the play button.

The cassette starts to spin.

"Sticky button," he says easily.

Your thigh presses into his. "You're a genius, Harrington."

"That's Steve to you, babe."

You laugh and shift ever closer, until your arm is pressed to his arm, both perspiring lightly and too warm to really be touching like this. He should pull away, or you should. One of you should.

"Whatever you say…Harrington," you murmur through the corner of your mouth, smiling so nicely that he can't be bothered to argue.

He tucks his hand between your arm and your naked chest and pulls it toward him. You drop your head against his shoulder and turn the Walkman in your hand.

"How's your brain? Jello?" he asks lightly, flexing his fingers against the crook of your elbow and resting his head on top of yours carefully

"Jello pudding pops," you say wistfully. "You remember those? I haven't had one of those in years. Think they still make 'em?"

Your question is out of the blue. Enough to worry him some more.

He brings the arm furthest from you to your head and brushes his pinky finger up from your eyebrows to your hairline. "You feel warm."

"I'm perfectly fine, nelly."

"I'm allowed to be nervous. You were kind of out of it last time."

"We've barely been out here for thirty minutes," you argue with barely any heat.

His hand smooths down to your neck and then back up. He pulls your cheek back with his thumb and then drops his hand. "Just tell me if you feel sick, okay?"

"I promise I'm fine."

"Jeez," he groans, his lips barely parted. A fond annoyance. "Think a guy was asking the world."

You let your weight lean on him, the hand of the arm he's hugging moving around his back until you've found his side. You move it up and down sluggishly.

Like this, Steve has a perfect view of your lovely shoulder. One hidden behind, the other bared.

"You're beautiful," he says.

You tense up and he hates it, bringing his hand to your coveted shoulder. He rubs a line up the soft slope, the curve of your neck and then down again until you've relaxed.

"You… can't even see my face," you murmur. Your breath is a small hot patch into his sleeve.

"I don't need to see your face," he says, feigning a frustration he doesn't feel. "Think I haven't stared at you enough to know? And I was talking about your shoulders."

You laugh and drag your face up. "My shoulders?"

"Well I can only see one. But I assume the second is just as nice."

"You're weird," you say.

There's a certain weakness to it. He thinks maybe you need to hear him say it again. He doesn't hesitate.

"You have nice shoulders."

You shake your head almost imperceptibly. Steve takes the player from your lap and turns it down by half, putting it on the floor with the water jug.

Your legs poke into his as he encourages you towards him.

"Come on," he says, "I don't bite, babe. 'Less you ask me to."

"You'd like that, you sicko."

He laughs and really bundles you up, a too warm hug where your face presses to his shoulder and his hovers above yours. He squeezes and drags his hand down your arm, rough but not cruel.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Shh, I'm busy."

You've wrapped your arms around his waist loosely. Steve tugs your thigh over his until your legs are overlapped, as close as you can be while sitting side by side like this. He'd pull you completely into his lap if he thought you'd let him.

He can feel your smile.

His hand soothes a kinder path over your arm before he gives in. Shyly at first, Steve drops his mouth to your shoulder and leaves it there, barely a kiss.

Don't be a loser, he thinks.

Cautious but sincere kisses. He drops them in a uniform line down your arm, your sunned skin hot under his lips. Kisses not meant to be anything but kisses, little worships, a scattering of affection. Indiscriminately. His mouth passes over blemishes, beauty marks, the fine hairs at the top of your arm. You curl tighter around his waist.

He kisses back up the hill of your shoulder and his lips part. He sucks very, very gently, kissing the same spot until he's adorned your skin with shiny crescent moons. He doesn't know how long he kisses you for. He doesn't want to stop, or pause, or do anything but this.

His hands have moved to your back. One toys with the tie of your bikini top unthinkingly, the other rubbing your shoulder. You're limp in his arms.

He rubs his nose against your shoulder for long, quiet minutes. Perfumed by a thousand flowers and yet you still smell like yourself underneath it, your skin an indescribable scent and secret, something he selfishly doesn't ever want to share. Steve can't make himself move from you and you don't seem inclined either.

He groans. "Alright, you hungry?" he asks.

Your fingers stretch across his back. "Maybe."

"I'll call Mazzio's. What do you want?"

"Anything."

Steve pulls back to give you a fierce look. "Just tell me. I gotta know your favourite toppings. S'like, a boyfriend thing."

"A boyfriend thing?" you repeat, smiling wide.

You tell him what you like and he squeezes your shoulder, disappearing into the house to call the pizza place. When he returns you've laid out in his lounger, your eyes closed like you're sleeping. The worst of the heat has fallen away and cloud cover threatens to give you the chills.

"Come inside?" he asks from the doorway.

"No… come and give me another hug. It was nice."

"I bet it was," he mutters, a feigned irritation that's completely overturned by how quickly he does what you tell him to.

The lounger isn't big enough for both of you. Steve's already laughing as he climbs on top of you, careful but not really as he crushes the fabric of your skirt with his knees and thighs and wraps his arms tightly around your neck, rubbing your foreheads together roughly.

"This what you meant?" he asks through a grin.

"No."

Steve's bed smells of him unequivocally. You're trying to withhold from lying down and sniffing, wondering curiously if that's something you're 1) allowed to do, and 2) supposed to want to do. Is it odd to like the way he smells as much as you do? That familiar bergamot, the almost smokey undertone of lavender, cedar. It makes you feel doped up. Your happiness has you heavy-limbed.

"You head up, okay? I'm just gonna lock the door," he'd said.

So here you are, backpack at your feet. After greasy takeout and an entire movie holding hands you think you're probably as content as it's possible to be in this body and in this life.

You hear Steve's footsteps up the stairs and lie down flat against his pillows, turning your face to sniff indulgently, the fabric cold under your cheek.

He walks in and he's all rumpled clothes and smiles, his hair in total disarray like you've never seen. As soon as he's crossed the threshold he's pulling off his polo and you think Oh fuck, that was quicker than I imagined this happening. Your heart feels fit to explode but he's barely looking at you, his sights set on the huge oak dresser at the end of the room.

You watch his arms as he walks past, your heart a hummingbird as Steve says, "Did you pick a movie?"

You gawp at what you can see of his naked chest, the side of a pec. You've never seen him undressed like this. Your distraction leaves you quiet, and Steve turns to you with a soft looking t-shirt in hand.

"Baby?"

"I didn't," you say, your voice scratchy. "Uh, sorry. I just laid down and…forgot."

He bends forward a little before he puts the shirt on and his entire chest moves. You can't help but look at it. Steve has… Steve has pecs. Pillowy-

"Y/N?"

"Sorry," you say, blinking hard.

"Are you tired or something?" He turns back to the dresser and opens a different drawer and pulls out a pair of sweatpants. "Don't look," he says teasingly.

You avert your eyes.

"Do you wanna change?" he asks when he's done, leaning back against the dresser with his arms crossed.

You don't know what Steve wants, if he wants to hook up or if he doesn't, and you don't mind either way. (A bad lie – you really, really want to.) (But it's cool if he doesn't want to.)

You won't be upset if he doesn't make a move, but if he does you'd prefer to be less sweaty.

"Can I shower? Not to wash my hair, just…"

"Sure you can."

Steve holds out his hand and you take it, grabbing your backpack as he pulls you off of the bed and into the bathroom. He drops your hand as fast as he'd taken it to open the cabinet under the sink. "Listen, the shower doesn't work. Well, it does, but the hot water only gets lukewarm and I don't know how to fix it. But the bath works fine. Uh…" He pulls a basket of girly toiletries out. "You can use whatever you want, my stuff or my mom's, whatever."

You stand by the tub. "She won't mind?"

"It's fine. I'll have to get you stuff next time you stay over." He moves you to the side with his hand on your hip and you look up as he moves down, turning the faucet. He holds his hand under the stream and messes with the temperature until he's satisfied. "Sorry. I should've thought about all of this before I asked you to spend the night."

"It's okay," you say quietly. "I didn't think about any of that stuff either. It's like I said, I- I just wanted to see you. Wasn't thinking about shower gel."

You laugh awkwardly. It ebbs when he grabs your shoulder and gives you a little shake. "Half as much as I wanted to see you."

He ends the shake with a good rub of his thumb.

"Want me to get in with you?" he asks with a smirk.

You laugh and start shoving at his chest playfully. "Get out," you whine.

He puts his hands up in surrender and you close the door between you, unsurprised when his voice rings out against it. "You come here often?" he asks.

"Do you?" you ask. Your voice sounds loud.

You strip off your clothes and your bikini top and slip into the water.

"Every morning for the last twenty years."

"What do you recommend?"

"The three in one."

You gawp and giggle, horrified at his suggestion. You know he's lying, his hair's too nice to use something like that. There's a few seconds of silence where you shudder at the new heat and rub yourself down.

"Which shower gel is yours?" you ask, looking between bottles unsure.

"Just use whatever you want. What movie d'you wanna watch?"

"Can't you choose?" you ask, bringing each gel to your nose until you find the one that smells like him. You lather the soap between your palms and run it over your body.

"I picked the last one."

"And you're good at it!" You reason, laughing loudly at your own joke. Steve's reluctant chuckles echo from the other side of the door.

You go to ask, Why are you still standing there, dork? But you're afraid that asking will make him move, and you like him too much to want that to happen.

"You were half asleep, how do you know it was good?"

"You were rubbing my hand!" you argue.

"You liked that?" he asks. His tone is honest.

You cup water in both hands to wash off your shoulders. You don't want to answer and give yourself away. Of course you'd fucking liked it, is he kidding? Boys. No, you think, not boys. Steve.

And after the stunt he'd pulled in the back yard, too. The nerve.

Warm water laps at your naked stomach. You think about his lips running over your shoulder and how tenderly he'd held you. Suddenly the water feels scorching, and you climb out over the lip as Steve says, "How much longer?"

"Stop stalking me."

"You're taking forever."

It's barely been five minutes. You go dizzy with pleasure at the idea that he might miss you so badly, the implication that he likes you that much.

You wrap a towel around yourself and squat down to sort through the contents of your bag for your pajamas and underwear.

"I'm getting dressed," you inform him, putting your clothes on the counter so you can dry off.

"I've never been any good at that," he says.

You pull your underwear over damp thighs and laugh under your breath so he can't hear it and get spurred on. "At getting dressed?"

"Right. Just awful. You should see me in the mornings, it's like, what limb does this go on?"

You stop scrubbing the towel over yourself to ask, "Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm trying. You're dodging the punchline."

"Wouldn't you want me to teach you how to take them off, rather than on?"

"How presumptuous!" You can hear his smirk.

"What was the punchline?" you ask, eager to draw the attention back to his bad joke rather than your suggestion.

You pull your shirt over your head and step into your pyjamas pants, tying the strings into a neat bow.

"Well, because you're so ridiculously nice I thought you'd offer to teach me how to do it, and then I'd get to say something like, 'Baby, I'm a visual learner.'"

"That's awful," you mumble, bent at the waist as you hop into your socks.

He hears it anyways. "Say it to my face."

You look yourself over in the mirror. Fresh faced, shirt sticking to your damp chest, pajama trousers high on your hips. You tug your shirt over the waistband. An entirely normal outfit for a normal night.

You open the door and Steve falls onto his back into the bathroom, looking up as you look down. He must've been sitting with his legs hiked, too much weight on the door to fall in readily. You laugh guiltily.

"Are you okay?"

He blinks. His eyes look impossibly wide.

"Steve?" You tilt your head to the side.

"You look killer," he says.

You mime like a slasher over his prone body and try to do the sound effects. Steve giggles and you decide it's your new favourite sound. He covers his face with his hands, one shoulder lifting from the floor with the force of it. You've never heard him laugh like this, all high pitched and gasping.

You can't decide whether you want to kneel down and kiss him or kneel down and pretend to stab him to death. You think the latter will make him laugh some more and you'll do anything for that next hit, falling to your knees with a threatening hand poised above you.

When Steve laughs really hard his mouth opens in a big smile, all his top teeth on display and shining.

You drop your hand to his chest, having lost all steam. The need to tell him how handsome he is, pretty, lovely, beautiful, all of it, is maddeningly high. You don't want to ruin the moment and you won't, spreading your palm flat over his chest and leaning down.

"I'm gonna kill you," you murmur, lips barely parted as you look between both of his eyes, memorising their flush of dark lashes. You drag your hand down his torso. "Why are you laughing?"

"I mean, if I'm gonna die-" He blows a big puff of air up his face and his hair moves like sea grass. "I'm okay with it being you who kills me."

"You'd let me kill you, baby?" you ask, still quiet, bemused and endeared and on the precipice of something big.

"I'd let you do a lot worse," he says.

You brush the hair out of his face. "I don't wanna do any of that stuff."

"Good. I was getting nervous. Here, give me-" he lifts up off of the ground to kiss you once. A chaste peck that leaves you a smiling mess.

You climb off of him before he has to ask and put your hand out to help him up. He takes it but doesn't need it, surprisingly lithe as he stands and pushes you back into his room. You laugh when he encourages you none too gently into his bed again. He flips on the TV, swaps the VHS out for one you can't see and then joins you at the top, lying down with a suffering sigh.

He stretches and groans. You ogle him.

"What's the movie?"

"Don't laugh?" he asks.

"No, I won't."

He shifts so you're two halves of a heart curved towards each other. "Fast Times at Ridgemont High." You nibble the inside of your lip. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"Am I laughing, Steve?"

"Just about," he grumbles.

You don't know why but it feels more than natural to curl up towards him. Any insecurity is fixed quickly when he pulls you close, one arm behind your head and propping him up tall, the other coming over your waist loosely, his wrist to your hip but his fingers not touching you.

You have to turn your neck to see the TV across the room. After a few minutes it aches and you consider moving, then Steve manoeuvres to press his lips to your head and you forget all about it.

His shirt's ridden up. His stomach is soft from the way he's on his side, and you can see the dark trail of hair leading from his navel that disappears into the plaid of his pants.

You reach out to slip your fingers under the hem and wrap your arm around him, feeling the croft of silky hair at the small of his back. You trail up, your finger bumping over the smoothed ridges of horizontal stretch marks.

"Can you feel that?" you ask.

Steve slowly moves his elbow. His face level with yours, he asks, "Can you feel this?" He scratches his fingers lightly over your hip.

You giggle with your mouth closed. "Yeah, I guess it was a stupid question."

Steve moves back and you turn to look at him. You're very close. You're in bed.

"Wasn't stupid," he says quietly.

You raise your brows and incline your head to his until he's laughing.

"It was misguided," he allows.

"I don't know why- I mean, I have enough stretch marks. I know they're not-" you laugh, a bubble of sound that warms his lips, "not dead."

"Maybe yours are special," he teases.

"Wanna find out?"

He laughs and kisses you. Pressure that slowly builds, a chaste pressing of his lips to yours. It's miraculous how quickly your breathing syncs, how you're inhaling at every parting, how your mouths open at the same time. He takes in a big sigh that lights you up and pulls you in like it's nothing.

He dedicates himself to your top lip. There's urgency there that wasn't before, and you're feeling it too. His mouth a crescent of heat, he takes your lip between his and sucks gently. You gasp and your hand twists in his shirt.

"Shit, sorry," he says, "I haven't done this in-"

"It's okay. It's okay, I liked it."

"Yeah?"

You huff against his lips. He's smiling as he does it again. You shudder at the feeling of his teeth, his careless nipping, your hands searching for comfort.

Everything goes slow. He kisses slow, he touches slow. His hands move over your back, slip under your shirt and climb up. Not looking for anything, just looking.

Your hand climbs over his chest. You brush your fingers through the ends of his carefully before pushing up, weaving into the soft strands at the back of his neck. You rub his thumb over his skin in time with your kisses.

Steve encourages you onto your back. You feel a heat growing in your chest, somewhere lower, as he hovers over you, his lips pushing you down into a space that doesn't exist. Your fingers are busy learning the back of his head, fingertips moving over his scalp, scratching lightly as you trail back down to hold him in place.

You kiss up. Steve's hand knocks your shirt up your chest as he squeezes the skin just below your breasts, breathing hard.

He hesitates. His fingers pinch your shirt as if he's going to pull it back down.

"Steve," you murmur. "It's okay."

He kisses your cheek without looking at you, his eyes on your naked skin. "You sure?"

You bring your knees up until they brush his hip and push them away from him, petting the hair out of his face. "Yeah," you say, smiling.

More kissing. Steve ducks down and holds your face steady in one hand, giving you short-lived, wet kisses as his fingers approach your chest. He pauses, watching your face as his fingertips bump into the swell of your breast. "Okay?" he asks.

You lift your chin. "It's fine, Harrington."

"Steve," he corrects steadily, the pads of his fingers ghosting under your nipple to caress the side. His thumb rubs a quarter circle just underneath and you feel the soft skin perk up.

"Steve," you utter.

From there you endure some of the worst kisses of your life – worst as in, life changing, as in sticky, as in everything you've ever wondered about and more. You know you're hopeless. You feel yourself melt into nothing as he massages your peaking nipple, laughing into his mouth when he squeezes and hitching when he squeezes harder.

He pushes the small nub between his index and middle finger and his teasing stutters. He holds you like this and kisses you and you don't know how much time passes. With him, time feels implausible. Like a guideline you ignore.

When you think you might be more him than yourself he pulls away, leaving your lips hot and bruising.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, pulling the hem of your shirt over his finger. His eyes are so brown. You can't believe how brown they are.

"Please."

"Don't- You don't have to say please with me. Not with this, okay?" He rubs his hand over your breast and presses it deep into your heart. "Not with anything."

"You'll regret that," you say, heat like nothing you've ever felt in your chest and the tips of your ears.

"I don't think I will."

He kisses you again like he just can't help it and sits up enough to work your t-shirt from under your back. The excitement gets mixed up with enough insecurity then to make you nauseous.

Steve drops your shirt onto the floor and plants his hands on either side of you. "Oh, you're fucking pretty."

His eyes take you in. It surprises you when he spends half the time staring at your face, entirely too much of it at your eyes. "You know how pretty you are?"

"You tell me enough, Stevie," you mumble, aflame.

"Wanna hear it again?"

You don't say anything. His eyes bore into yours. His lashes kiss.

His grin is practically dietific as his lips curve up. "You're beautiful. 'So fine and pretty,'" he says, almost but not quite singing.

"You're just as handsome," you say, bringing your hands to his defined cheeks. You smooth your hands over his face and ears and hair, holding it all away from him. "You're…" You drop your hands to the curve of his neck and follow over his trap muscle. "You're amazing."

"Stop," he says. You take it for 'keep going'.

"Handsome sounds too formal," you mutter, almost to yourself, "but it's true. You're handsome. More than handsome, you're- you're funny and kind and-" You shake your head. "I think you're the first person I've ever wanted like this."

You don't mean to get emotional. 'This' comes out so rough it burns, and you swallow it all down, blinking fast.

"Like 'this'?" he asks.

He brings a hand to your face, holding your cheek like you're made of solid silver, like you might bend under his touch.

"Like this," you say again. "If you want to."

"I want to," he says, nodding happily. "Of course I do."

You laugh and he laughs. There's a gap where you're both thinking, Oh, we're doing this.

And then Steve's in motion.

He pulls his shirt over the back of his head and you're starstruck. His hair's a dark mess, the ends cast light by the TV. You reach up to smooth them down and it's too late, Steve's ducking down for a smattering of heavy kisses across your lips, one corner to the other. His nose taps into yours and you turn your face to accommodate him, his tongue a wet heat as he pushes it into yours. You reciprocate as best you can, eyes closed tight and hands all over the place. You start at his collar. One hand runs over the twisting of chest hair over his pecs and the other holds his face to yours. He curls his fingers around your wrist, the other paying some much needed attention to your neglected breast. He plays until both nipples are aching and then some.

He spreads your legs and your heart skips as he puts his knee between your thighs, lips starting a ruinous journey downward. He sets kisses like tiny sparks of heat against your jaw and under it, nose dragging down your neck as he turns. You cup the back of his head as his lips part, as he takes your flesh between his teeth and sucks tenderly.

"You smell like flowers," he says, kissing his half-hearted hickey.

"Some idiot bought me a florists," you tease.

His hand slides under your back. His knee presses to the bump of your cunt. "Best decision that idiot ever made," he says, words soaking into your neck, smothered.

You roll your hips shyly against his knee, a negligible friction as he rubs your back and scandalises your neck.

You lift your hips high and he gets the idea very quickly, fingers pinching at fabric until your thighs are out. He tries to move away and you hold him there, dazed by his ravenous attentions.

He laughs and strokes your arm. "I'm gonna take them off, okay?"

You drop your hands from his hair sheepishly and he moves back onto his knees.

"Pretty panties," he says. You don't think he's teasing.

"I thought you might like them," you tell him honestly.

"I do. They're dainty," he says, sliding your pajama pants off of your ankles. "Almost don't wanna take 'em off."

You feel a little bit nervous and decide to direct your attention to his own pants. There's a noticeable bulge at the seat of them. Your cunt twinges at the sight.

Steve's hands worship at your ankles. "Is everything okay?" he asks.

"This is the first time you're seeing me like this. I'm just nervous."

He pulls your foot onto his thighs and fiddles with the elastic of your sock. "If you could see what I'm seeing, I don't think you would be."

You try to imagine yourself as he sees you. Mostly naked and kiss mussed after a day of sun and fun and his affection, the dopey, slightly shy smile, with one arm crossed under your breasts and the other picking nervously at the lace of your underwear.

"You're fucking killer." He mimes a stabbing motion and you giggle. "I don't have to let you kill me, seeing you like this might just do it."

You let him keep your ankle in his lap but bring the other leg up, folding it across your thigh to hide your cunt from view. His eyes dip to the twin globes of your ass and he groans. Your ears strain to hear it.

"Are you gonna take them off?" you ask, eyes on the curve of his dick, eyebrows raised cheekily.

"You don't wanna take them off for me?" he asks. Your startled expression makes him giggle as he slides off of the bed and hooks his thumbs in the waistband.

He kicks them off, his boxers tighter than you'd pictured. You hike up on your elbows and bring your knees together, biting the inside of your lip as his hand drops to his cock. He readjusts the sizable length and a hiss of breath escapes him as he does.

"Fuck," he groans. "Shit, you're fucking- you're fucking everything."

You rub your thighs together coquettishly. "Come back and kiss me?" you ask. He takes a step forward. You tilt your head towards your shoulder. "Are you gonna take those off too?"

You had your suspicions, but the real thing makes your heart stop.

Steve kicks out of his boxers and holds his hands out. You spread your legs and he climbs on top of you, hands braced above your shoulders until he's negotiated himself into the gap. You feel the curve of his cock press into your stomach as he kisses you.

You try your best to be casual and let him kiss you, but you're curious and excited and you can't not think about it now that it's happening.

You stroke your hands down his back and leave them loose at his waist. "Steve," you whisper, breaking the kiss early.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Please?" you whisper.

"What did I say about please?" he murmurs. He doesn't sound very scolding.

"That I don't have to say it."

He leans back on his haunches. "So don't."

You sit up, hands between your laps and wringing. "Uh," you reach out. "Tell me if I do something wrong?"

He softens. "Sure, baby."

You lean in and Steve pulls you closer by the calves. Your hand trembles as you take his cock into your hands. He's thick. Fat. Girthier than you'd thought he would be and twice as hairy, though trimmed neatly at the outskirts, you slide your hand down to the underside of his shaft and pause.

When you align your hand, bottom of your palm to the very start of his shaft, the tip of your index finger misses the tip by two whole inches. You encircle him curiously.

"Spit in your hand," he says gently.

"Oh."

You spit into your hand and press it back into his cock, spreading it with loose strokes over veined ridges. The curls of his pubes brush your hand as you reach the bottom. The entire length of him jumps.

You're honestly dazzled. You laugh out of the corner of his mouth and look up at him with a happy smile. "You're packing a lot of heat here, Harrington."

He looks relieved. "Do you know how fucking scary it is when your girl has your dick in her hand and gets the giggles? I started second-guessing everything I thought about myself."

"I can see why you're popular with the ladies," you murmur, eyes bright with mirth as you dip down and kiss the tip where a dot of precum wells.

"Oh, don't, baby."

"Huh?" You sit up tall. "Do you wanna stop?"

"The opposite. I don't know how long I'll last, especially," he pulls you by the chin to his lips, "in this pretty mouth."

More giggles. He swallows them in their entirety, hand wrapped around your wrist to pull your fingers from his length. Your hands go limp, languid under his gentle kisses and featherlight touching.

You pull away from each other but fight to kiss anyways, cheeks aching with a smile as he steals one, another, a handful of sweet, catching pecks.

You pout as he pulls away.

"D'you wanna lie back?" he asks, hand behind his neck. He rakes his fingers through his hair.

You lie down with his pillows under your head.

Steve smooths his thumbs against the waistband of your panties.

"It's okay," you say, wiggling your hips from left to right encouragingly.

He drags them down. Over the slopes of your thighs and the hills of your knees, he slides them down to your calves. He pulls them off one ankle and they hang off of the other. You lift your leg and let the dampened pink fabric fall onto his rumpled sheets.

He crawls forward, hands hooking under your knee. "Lemme see you, babe."

You bring your legs up and spread your thighs, feet between his knees.

He takes his cock into his hand and tugs. "Fuck," he says, eyes heavy, "fuck, are you wet?"

"You've been kissing me for hours," you say bashfully.

"I'd kiss you longer if you're gonna let me. Can I touch you?"

You push your palm down to your cunt and spread yourself just slightly, more to get used to it than to tease him. "Yes, please."

Steve crawls until you're close and you settle your legs either side of him. He does as you'd done, pushing his thumb to the small well of slick at your entrance and spreading you open with his fingers. "Fuck," he says again. "Shit, baby. Look at you…"

He pushes his slick-wet thumb into the waiting bead of your clit. "There?" he asks.

You remember to breathe. "Yeah," you say, eyes drifting closed as he familiarises himself. You drop your head into his pillows, neck aching. "Right there."

"Aww," he says sympathetically, free hand pressed flat to the inside of your thigh, holding you open. "You have the cutest fucking pussy ever. Shit, i'so wet, you must have such a crush on me."

You smile to yourself and hide your face in a pillow that smells like him. "A huge one. It's kind of embarrassing."

"I bet it is."

His fingers probe your clit. It pulses under his touch, swollen and sensitive to every brush of skin.

"Can you come kiss me some more?"

He looks like he wants to argue.

"Please, Stevie."

Steve reaches over your chest and pulls open his nightstand, procuring a new box of rubbers. You flick his chest. "Is that a new box?"

"Maybe."

You kiss his shoulder and he rips one open with his teeth. "How many's in there?"

"Enough, you minx." He rolls it on.

Kissing. His weight pressed over you, his cock against your mess of slick. You whine as he grinds down into you hard, his tangle of dark curls a blessed friction.

His hips jerk back and the tip of his dick hits into your clit.

"Are you gonna tease me all night?" you ask.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, dropping his head next to yours, his arm wrapping around your neck. You turn your face to his. His eyes are closed and his smile is nearly peaceful, though the crinkle between his brows speaks to his growing desperation. It's as casual as any cuddle with him before. "I could."

"But you won't."

"No, I won't."

Steve gives you one last kiss and situates himself between your legs at full height, pushing your legs back until the tops of your thighs kiss the bump of your stomach. He takes his cock into his hand and guides the tip down the length of your crease. His head bumps your entrance.

You let one leg fall to the side, arm crossed under your rising chest, looking at Steve with bright, adoring eyes. He's beautiful above you, pumping his cock with one hand. The other plays at your weeping hole, fingertips dipping inside two at a time.

You clench around his fingers as they ease in.

"Shit, you're tight. You okay?"

You nod voraciously.

He spreads his fingers wide, his eyes rolling back showfully. "Fuck, babe… Gonna spread you wide open, yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Want you inside."

"Yeah?" His eyebrows are furrowed, a certain stress to his voice.

"Are you gonna make me say please?"

He takes your thighs into both hands and lines up. His grin is both salacious and adorable, a familiar mischief adorning his pretty features. "Never."

The stretch is a lot but he takes it slow. Really slow, his hands on your skin and constantly measuring your reaction. Which must be a super ego trip for him, because your face goes slack with pleasure and you have to focus a lot of energy on smiling rather than frowning; there's somethingwonderful about being this close to him. His cock pushes into you and you gasp with every gentle intrusion, every half inch of space he takes until he's halfway inside and staying there.

He bends over you and takes your face into his hand. You hadn't realised before you met Steve how often your face could be held by someone, and how safe it could make you feel. How the brush of someone's fingertips over your cheek could tickle and somehow you never want to move away. He pulls his hips back, rolls in, and your eyes crease with pleasure, lashes touching as you squint.

He smells like everything you're used to. He must be thinking the same thing as you, because he smiles, and says, "You might as well be a flower for how much you smell like one."

Bergamot. He touches something sensitive, gummy walls stretched around him. You whine under your breath.

Lavender. "Make that sound again?" he asks.

Cedarwood. The murmur of the TV fades away entirely. The only things you can hear are you and Steve. You; your panting, the high warping of every breath as his thick cock works you open. Steve; a panting all his own, a scratchy roughness. You try not to make too much noise in efforts to hear him.

The slightest hint of citrus. An impression. Maybe his breath, something lingering from the orange-infused water you'd sipped on earlier. His breath fans out over your collar as he bottoms out, a sound like a hiccup ripped from him.

You wrap your hands around his back. "Oh my god, Stevie."

"How's that feel? That okay?" He stays very still. "Pretty baby, taking all of me right now." He starts to move his hips in leisurely circles.

You pull him down for a kiss, a world away from being able to answer intelligibly. You're so full it aches, so full – the blunt tip of his cock pushes into your sweet spot and you have to break the kiss to gasp for air.

"Feels so good," you whisper, rubbing his back unhurried.

A shiver courses down your spine as he pulls out to push in again. The sound is filthy, an erotic slapping as his thighs hit into yours and he moans. He fucking moans.

"Fuck, Steve. Can you go faster?"

Steve forces his forearms under your shoulder blades and his forehead presses to your collar, lips sluggish as they kiss your chest. He pulls your nipple into his mouth as he starts to thrust into you rhythmically, sucking and nibbling and twisting, his ministrations sending little bolts of pleasure down to your throbbing cunt.

He kisses hickey after hickey into your chest. You're too busy getting fucked out to notice, lavished by his mouth and numbed by his cock. Every thrust starts to hit deep, and every thrust pulls an unintelligible sound from you. Panting turns to moaning, moans turn to mewls.

"Hear how wet you are? Do you hear that?" Steve asks as he pulls away. He flicks at your bruising nipples and pouts when you jump. "Sorry, I'm sorry. Not my fault you have the cutest rack ever."

"Steve!" you cry, flushing with an embarrassed heat.

"What? It's fucking true." He takes your hips into his hands and hits in hard, cock prodding your spongey g-spot unapologetically. "Cutest pussy, too."

He brings his hand down to your cunt and slows his pace, thrusts shallow and eyes wide as he spreads you open. You can feel your hole shaping around him, the stretch as he opens you up. His thick fingers press into the bead of your clit and he starts to draw, tight messy circles in time with his thrusts.

"Taking me so well, babygirl."

You cup your aching tits and feel them sway with every thrust, every hit of his thighs into yours. A sticky mess grows between you that leaves your clit wet with slick. Steve fights to find purchase as he spreads your lips, thumb coming up to pinch at it.

He moans and looks up at the ceiling, his throat bared as he rolls his hips and pulls you onto his cock. "Fuck…" he groans, beggy and out of breath.

You stare at him, unabashed in your rabid attraction.

"Fuck, Steve," you say between hitching breaths, "I'm lucky you're mine."

His gaze jumps to yours. He snaps his hips and you squeal happily. "Say that again."

"I'm lucky you're mine," you say without missing a beat. It's true.

He holds your hips in an iron grip and ruts into you, deep-seated and unrelenting. He's barely a half-inch back when he's rubbing back in, moulding you to the shape of his cock. Dark curls press into your clit as he leans forward.

"You wouldn't believe how perfect you look on my dick." He grinds down, pulls out and thuds back in.

Your face screws up.

"You like that, baby? You want me to do it again?"

You nod and open your arms. Steve falls into them, letting you wrap him up in a grip so tight you can feel the suggestion of his ribs, his chest hair scratching your chest as he repeats the motion. You squeeze your eyes closed and whimper into the top of his head, hands pulling at his back as he rocks in again and again and again.

"Y'making such a mess on me."

You're not surprised. Every thrust into your sopping heat sounds loud in the quiet of his room, and your slick is everywhere. Wetting the thatch of pubes around his cock, the insides of your soft thighs.

"Steve, can you- can you-"

He presses his fingers back to your clit. "This? Sorry, you're just gripping me tight, I had to hold onto something," he apologises, sounding a short fall from reverential. "I got you."

Your sticky thighs start to shake as he fucks into you, the quick rub of his fingers against your clit tightening the coil inside you until it's snapping hard. You can't even warn him, chasing the circles he's making with your hips as you force your face into his pillow and fall apart.

You want to hate the sound that you make. It's an embarrassing combination of a squeal and a breathless gasp, only partially muffled by the fabric under your lips. You find yourself unable when Steve chokes on his words, stuttering, "F-fuck, oh fuck, sweetheart, you sound like- like heaven. You fucking feel like it, clamping down on me."

Steve fucks into that extra snugness and you can see on his face that he's close.

You blink out of the haze of your climax and cover Steve's hand where it teases your overstimulated clit, pulling it up and around your neck. You slide your arms around him and scratch up his back lightly, his hips staggering into yours as you say, "You gonna cum too, baby? Please?"

"Fuck," he groans through gritted teeth.

You clench your walls down around him and the drag is insane, better when he gets his final burst of energy and fucks into you with big, rough thrusts, your knees clamped around his hips. His teeth close around your shoulder and he bites you, maybe harder than he means to, a white hot pain that lasts a split-second, his hitching breaths hot in your skin. His hips slow and his entire weight falls into your tummy, wrought with post-orgasm aching.

You rub his back, damp with perspiration.

He kisses an apology over his cruel hickey.

"Fuck," he whispers.

His kisses move up and he moves too. You both hiss – disturbed, sweaty, blood still pumping fast. He's only adjusting for the height advantage, his mouth at your ear.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You have a lot more to say, but you need a second.

Steve makes a humming sound at the back of his throat. "Can I go get a towel? I'll be right back."

"Yeah, Stevie. Whatever you wanna do," you say lightly, rubbing his back and hoping each pass of your palm implies the depth of your fondness.

Steve is cautious as he climbs off of you. You close your eyes and bring your hands to your sweaty face, fingers over your eyes before pushing them to either side of your forehead to stare at his ceiling, entirely blissed and in disbelief.

Steve climbs over you with a towel in hand. You can feel the warmth coming off of its wet corner.

He drops it onto your stomach and you go to pick it up. He grabs your hands in both of his and holds them, joined, against your shoulders. "I'll do it, but just-" He ducks his face to yours. "Let me kiss you."

You smile happily and close your eyes, fingers flexing in his grip as he brushes his lips against yours, at first gently and then with an enthusiastic pressure. You're worn out from everything and can't respond how you want to, but if Steve minds he doesn't say anything, hands squeezing your hands and his lips all lazy and curled up against yours.

Your chest hurts.

Steve keeps a hold of one hand as he breaks the kiss in favour of cleaning you up though quickly drops it to take your shaky thigh into his hand. Spread wide, he wipes every trace of slick he can find, especially kind to your centre.

He's already discarded the condom and wiped himself down. You reach out to stroke the start of his damp snail trail as he throws the towel on the floor next to your discarded clothes. Pulling the sheets where they'd fallen to the bottom of the bed over your naked bodies, Steve slouches onto his side.

"Come here," he says, pulling you into his chest with infinite tenderness.

You turn into his hold and ram your face into his skin, hand searching for the tempting curve of his bicep.

He drops a kiss into your temple and then another. You feel surprisingly awake, his body a hot and heavy thing beside you.

"Do you feel like talking?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," you say, giggling. "Yeah, sorry. God, Steve."

He bends at the waist to cuddle you like he's shielding you. "I know."

You lie there in his embrace and you can't stop thinking about it. That was perfect. That was fucking perfect. Right? You want to ask him. You'd never felt that pretty or pleased before in your life.

"God, that was fucking perfect," Steve says.

You rub your nose against his chest and giggle, an overabundance of joy bubbling messy at the surface. "I was just thinking that."

"Yeah?"

"Oh my god."

"I'm kind of pissed off. Like, if that's the standard, how am I gonna live up to this every time?"

Every time, you think.

"Maybe we just got really lucky. We're never gonna have sex that good ever again," you theorise.

He starts laughing, big, contagious chuckles that boom from the centre of his chest and catch you by surprise. He sounds as happy as you feel.

"Don't jinx it." He rubs his hand over your shoulder blades.

You kiss his chest lazily and he slinks down under the sheets with you, dragging you up until your face is eye-level with his. His eyes are closed and you close your own, moaning as he crushes you to his chest and starts to pat your back.

It's an immense domestic pleasure. You couldn't explain why, but the continuous, steady rhythm of his firm patting makes it easier to calm your racing heart.

"You look really beautiful," he says.

"Your eyes are closed."

"So? You looked beautiful when I closed them. I just want you to know. And your sounds… God, I'm gonna be touching you all the time if that's what you sound like."

"I love how you sounded too." You rub his chest with your knuckle. "I love that you sounded like that for me."

"Because of you."

"I meant what I said. I'm really lucky."

Steve pushes his hand behind your ear and draws your face from his. You open your eyes and find him already looking at you, eyebrows raised. "Thanks for telling me?"

"Shut up! You know what I mean. I'm lucky to have you."

"If you're lucky I'm fucking blessed."

"I've never heard you swear that much."

"And it's entirely your fault," he jokes.

You're okay with that.

You tuck yourself into Steve's neck and trace the lines of his body. The small roundness of his Adam's apple and the ridges of his collarbones, the small dip between his chest muscles and the line underneath his pec. You go to just below his ribs before needing your hand between his torso and his arm, hugging him like he's hugging you.

The hickey he'd given you on your shoulder twinges, reminding you of his maltreatment. You place your lips against his throat and mouth lazy kisses until he sighs in content. When you know you've lulled him into a false sense of security, you take his skin between your teeth and nip.

"What's that for?" he asks in bemusement.

"You tried to take a chunk of me."

"Shit," he says.

You kitten lick the tiny welt you've bitten into his pale skin and he tenses. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, wondering if he likes that, and deign to give him a smattering of wet, sloppy hickeys to find out.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, fingers brushing over the small embeddings of his teeth in your shoulder.

"Not really," you say, mouthing up until your nose is to his cheek. You close your eyes as he turns his head. You can feel his breath against your lips. "No, I like it, anyway."

Your arms slide over his back as he pulls back to take you in. You stare at each other, not sure how to say anything that hasn't already been said or anything that hasn't been felt. He looks pretty and ragged, perfect hair mussed and dainty brown lashes in damp triangles. The dim lighting shadows his face, the lightest brightness under the well of his eye.

"I wish I was one of the old masters."

He smiles. "What's that?"

"Like, the great artists. Painters, masters of their craft. Like the guy who painted The Girl with a Pearl Earring."

Steve starts to shift onto his back. You lay your arm across his chest and hold your weight off of him. He doesn't like that very much, pulling you in with one arm crossed over the small of your back, the other held high but loose. He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, fingernails sliding over your skin. "Is painting something you like to do?"

Your heart melts at his genuine interest and his willingness to listen to something seemingly tangential. "I wish I could paint like they could. I would paint you."

"Yeah?" he asks, clarity brightening his face. His eyes are lined with pleasure.

"I would. The," you raise your hand to his face and start to trace each feature as you go, "bridge of your nose. The slopes here," his brow, the dip underneath, careful of his eye, "your cheekbones. Your lips. This line here, and this one. This one, too."

"Are you trying to tell me I have wrinkles?" he jokes.

"Only this one." You smooth the pad of your thumb between his eyebrows. "Though I think it's inevitable."

"Oh you do, do you?" he asks, abruptly loud. You're startled into giggling, dropping your hand over one of his eyes in your shock. He kisses your palm.

You fall silent. You take your hand to his jaw and press the invisible remains of his kiss to his cheek as you lean in.

"I think… I think I'd want to paint you. Just so people know," you murmur, touching your forehead to his, "that you were this handsome."

You wait for him to laugh and he doesn't. Like the trepidation of a sneeze that doesn't come, you feel off-kilter.

"Steve?"

He shushes you and kisses you for the hundredth time tonight. You could happily take another hundred, eyebrows pinching up at his silence.

He kisses you until you forget what you'd been saying, until the aching in your abdomen can't be ignored.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you announce regretfully.

"Yeah, okay. Want me to come with you?"

You laugh and climb off of him. His hand reaches for you as you go, his fingers catching yours until you pull away. You grab the damp towel and your sleep shirt off of the floor, slipping it on as you walk away. Steve acts like he's been grievously injured.

In the bathroom you clean up properly and pull on the spare underwear you'd had the foresight to bring. You stretch until you moan.

"You okay?" Steve calls.

"Stop listening to me in the bathroom, perv."

You can hear him stand. His footsteps in the bedroom. You shiver in the cool bathroom and smile at yourself really hard in the mirror.

When you return he's done the same as you, changed into new boxers. You stare at his thighs unabashed as he steps into his pyjama bottoms, yours rescued and folded on the end of the bed. Steve holds his hands out at your approach and tugs you towards him, not hugging but close. He pushes your shirt up to your ribs and you struggle to see what he's doing, craning your neck.

"What?" you ask.

He follows the impression of a stretch mark down your skin. "Did you feel that?" he asks genuinely.

You'd more than felt it. He pulls up the waistband of your panties thoughtlessly and traces another stretch mark. "You're pretty," he murmurs.

You hug him hard enough that he has to take a step back to avoid falling over. His hands stop their studying, braced at your waist and walking you backwards toward the bed. He pushes you down and you fall onto your back, clinging to him as he tries to pull away.

"Come on," he says, laughing, "I'm gonna get you something to drink. Let go."

"Whatever," you grumble.

Steve disappears downstairs and you sit up, eyes bright like you're seeing his room for the first time all over again. Fast Times at Ridgemont High looks to be nearing its end. You switch off the TV with a triumphant smile and move your attention to his dresser, where the cassette player you'd 'loaned' him sits. You're half hoping Van Halen II will be inside but it must still be in his car. Your disappointment ebbs quickly when you see what's really inside.

Steve has the good graces to blush when he returns. You've clicked play and sit with the tape deck in your lap, beaming. "American Pie?" you ask knowingly.

"It's a good album."

He presses a cold glass of water into your hands and you sip feverishly, best pleased when he sits beside you, thigh to your naked thigh.

"Softie."

He dips his fingers into his glass and flicks you. It feels good and you move back encouragingly. He indulges you, flicking cold water over your face and neck until you're finely misted as a flower in the morning dew.

The best part of American Pie starts to play. You gasp as Steve pulls the glass from your hand and sets them heavily on the dresser, hands wet with condensation as he sews your fingers together and pulls you up.

"What are you doing?" you ask curiously.

His shoulders move back. "Dancing?"

"You wanna dance?" you ask. Your legs are tired – his must be double.

"You're old enough," he says, encouraging your hands from side to side.

You were gonna give him what he wanted anyways, but that small smile toying over his pretty pink mouth spurs you on. You jump on toes and follow his lead.

Steve digs a short fingernail into the deep orange skin of what he thinks is a tangerine and watches as citrus spritzes into the air. It leaps from the fruit with every slice of rind he pulls away, and his hands quickly smell of it.

You lay in the grass with his sunglasses perched over your nose. Steve worries you might be sleeping, your smile demure and your arms still where they've crossed over your chest. Your cotton dress blankets the grass around your thighs, the hem waved as the thin edge of a peony petal.

"You better not be sleeping, Y/N," he warns.

You'd definitely been dozing. You hide it well, your hand hardly trembling as you stretch it across the grass towards him. "I wasn't."

"You know what happened last time."

"You're here to protect me."

He can't argue with that. Orange juice stains his fingers as he splits the segments apart, pulling white pith from the flesh until each slice is clean. He drops two into your hand. "For you."

"Thank you," you say, sounding genuinely excited. You sit up slow and your dress falls down enough to expose the top of your breast where Steve had hickied at a risk of excess the night before.

He moves across the grass until your knees knock together and presses his hand to your forehead. You're definitely hotter than you should be but not about to burst into flames. Steve ushers more tangerine into your hand and reaches for the grocery bag to grab your drink and put it in your lap. You gasp at the sudden cold and gasp again when he pulls the strap of your dress up your shoulder. There’s no hiding the worst one at the meeting of your neck and shoulder. Every time he looks at it, he blushes.

"Was I flashing?" you ask worriedly through a mouthful of fruit.

"Not really? But, uh, you know. Hickey."

"Ohhh," you say knowingly. "Well, that's your fault."

"Did I say otherwise? Have some water. We're gonna have to go soon, it's too hot."

"Steve."

"I'm serious."

"Let's just go buy one of those little hand crank fans."

"So I can crank it all day? No way."

"You'll dictate-"

"Dictate!"

"-my sunbathing but won't crank a little fan for me? What kind of relationship even is this?"

"Stop it," he says concisely.

Your lips pull into a self satisfied smile and you drink your drink like he'd asked you to. "What are we gonna do after?"

You'd woken Steve up early, before the sun had really come out, a vision and perfect and everything he'd known you would be in the mornings. Hands on his shoulders, you'd kissed him until he'd stirred, skipping kisses over his neck and chest.

"Ba-by," you'd whispered, dragging the last syllable, your voice croaky with tiredness, "let's go get breakfast."

Breakfast at a sticky diner that consisted of pancakes with too much syrup and whipped cream on strawberries. You'd dragged him into the fancy grocery store across the street and filled a basket with fancy drinks, pretzels, lip balm and a net of tangerines.

Now, hours later, sweaty from the outpour of ultra-hot sunlight and your company, Steve doesn't know what's left to do that could be any better than this.

He spread his legs and tucks a rogue lock of hair behind his ear. "What do you wanna do?"

You twist the cap back onto your drink and push onto your knees, grass crushed. "I don't know. Anything. I don't have anything to do tomorrow, so you can keep me as late as you want."

He doesn't feel bad when he says, "Could I keep your for the night again?"

You hesitate. He doubles down.

"I'll take you to your place and you can get some more clothes. And I'll make you something better than takeout, if you want," he promises, thinking of your home-cooked meals, the evident love poured into each one.

"No, it's not-" You smile at him, your eyes soft. "Of course you can keep me. But I'm not staying up to dance with you again." You yawn to drive the point home.

He breaks grass between his fingers. "Fine, no dancing."

You nod in agreement and take his shoulder into your hand, throwing your leg over his to straddle his thigh. You look comfortable despite the 'w' shape you're in, settling down with a harrumph of breath.

Steve tries not to think about the silk of your underwear against his leg, but of course he does. The pink colouring his cheeks isn't from the sun.

You look shy but happy as he grabs your hands, stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. "We can make something cool for the weather," you suggest lightly, the skirt of your dress ruffled by the breeze. "Sanwhiches. And something sweet for dessert 'cos we didn't have any yesterday."

"I don't know about you, but I think I had more than my fair share of dessert."

You drop the top of your head into his chest. "Sicko."

"A little. When it comes to you."

You start to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, humming something very quietly. The Waterboys or something like that, your lips pressed together tightly. You lashes flutter and you rub your cheek with your shoulder.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm just really happy," you confess.

What's he supposed to do? Not kiss you silly? He wraps his arms around your back and pulls you in.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 4 months

Note

I'm craving for your writing, please spare me a crumb 🛐

ATEEZ favorite positions maybe?

ATEEZ favorite positions

❥ATEEZ (separately) x afab reader

➯a/n: i'm deep deeeeeeeep in the depths of writers block and trying to claw my way out like the feral writing gremlin i know i am- but i have no idea if this is any good, please forgive me for the atrociously long wait. happy valentines ! 💌💕

♡´･ᴗ･`♡▼・ᴥ・▼genre: smut, bullet point style, drabbles

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: eldest to youngest, unprotected(booooo), so much romance im a sucker, soft & rough sex, head(giving and receiving), dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, brat taming in the form of dumbification, strength kink, restraint, switching holes (LMAO?), forehead touches!!!!!!!! not proof read :(

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

彡★PARK SEONGHWA - lotus

he's a hopeless romantic, and it definitely shows through his favorite positions

he's seated on the edge of the bed, or couch, or chair, even seated on the floor-

and youre seated in his lap like it's your throne

your legs wrapped around his moving hips, arms around his neck and hands tangled up in his hair

it's his favorite position for many reasons

the angle of his hips which makes his cock tease the deepest parts of you

your heavy breaths falling right onto his lips, breathing the same air during such a passionate act

and the way he can see your eyes well up with pleasure with every little thrust until you come undone right infront of him

Seonghwa can see every little twitch of your face as he rests his forehead against yours, his hips had set an unrelenting slow and loving pace long ago and have yet to stop. His tip drags along your g-spot every time he pulls out, and you almost want to beg him to just stay buried deep because of the maddening slow building pleasure. Any attempt to speak on either of your parts only comes out as a puff of hot air into the others mouth. It isn't the first time you've done it in this position, but the intimacy of it completely blankets you every time. You can't feel anything other than each other, and it's pure euphoria.

彡★KIM HONGJOONG - cuddle fuck

it's not that it's his favorite persay, it's just the one that happens the most

people say this man hates affection, they couldn't be any more wrong

he loves to be close to you !

after a busy schedule and tiring day, all he wants to do is cuddle

but your body is so soft and warm pressed against his, he feels so safe and comfortable

he won't say anything at first, either because he's too embarrassed or too tired so it usually goes like this:

Hongjoong has his arms wrapped around you- one cradling you to his chest warmly as the other traces his racing thoughts on your lower back. One of your legs is hooked over his hip, the other tangled between his. You kiss over his tattoo with all of the care in the world and that's when the feeling in his lower belly stirs to life. As you go on about mundane things, like what you should cook the both of you for dinner, it only gets hotter and tighter. Your skin is searing against his in the most pleasant and simultaneously daunting ways. The way you bite your lip tells him you finally feel it, that hardness pressing against your thin house-shorts. You push aside the other topic at hand and move both of your shorts away, wordlessly slipping him inside of you. You're so close, you may as well be one soul. And that's just the way he likes it.

彡★JEONG YUNHO - v

yunho is TALL.

no matter what position you're in, innocent cuddling or sinful fucking or walking down the street-

he shadows over you like a demon

the softest demon ever but still

he's huge and it drives him over the edge when he can see and feel the difference compared to you

so when you've got your legs stretching up as far as they can go and they barely reach over his shoulders????

whew baby prepare your cervix to be bruised

It started as a simple mating press, Yunho' s cock begging him to just fill you as far as possible without breaking you. But when he sat up, your legs followed; no longer being pinned by his chest. You laid them flat against his sweaty chest and arched your back, breaking his mind in an overwhelming horniness as he felt your toes curl just on his shoulder blades when you came. Oh, he'll be damned if he stopped there. He went on for hours, he had never been so hard. He wanted to cum so badly, but at the same time, he never wanted to move away from the ethereal image of you below him like that. When he finally did (and hello wow that was so much cum it literally came splatting out between you) he made a mental note to most definitely get you worked up again tomorrow.

彡★KANG YEOSANG - mating press

this man's beauty and personality is so soft and silky

don't let that shit fool you breh

he is a beast in the bedroom, he goes feral when you're behind a locked door together

there's something about you that just makes him want to overtake your entire being and become one with you

something that makes him want you to break- break just for him

he loves every fiber of your being and he's possessive over you like no fucking other

because of his career, he's not allowed to show that publicly, and he more than makes up for his need to express his dominating feelings for you by-

well, by dominating you

Your thighs are crushed to your chest, feet dangling in the air and bouncing with every rough thrust of Yeosang 's skilled hips. If there was a time that this position was uncomfortable, that time is long gone. All of his deep, quick thrusts wipe away anything in your mind other than him, and the glazed over look in your eyes only makes him go harder. His eyes nearly roll into his skull every time he feels you clench around him, your cunt completely at his mercy. You're ripe for the picking. Laid out for him helplessly, stuck in position by his rough and loving hands on the back of your sore thighs. Completely weak beneath him as he fucks you like it's the last thing he'll ever do on this mortal earth, and you simply let him because you love him. And he absolutely revels in it.

彡★CHOI SAN - against the wall

"sannie bulked up after wooyoung chest bumped him across stage!!"

erm no

sannie bulked up when he saw you watching an against the wall video!!

his brain immediately fried at the idea of doing that to you and now here we are a few years later

he prides himself in how strong he's gotten, how muscular he is

it's an ego boost really, and a deserved one

he loves bending you into whichever position he wants to just because he can

but this will always be his personal favorite

San has his arms wrapped around the underside of your knees, pining them to the wall and effectively folding you in half while he demolishes your holes. All of his praise falling to deaf ears as your head spins with a dizzying pleasure. He lets your forehead fall on his, breathing in your fucked out groans as his thrusts slam your hips and lower back into the wall. You lost it and started cumming the second he man handled you and lifted you with his cock still inside, and now it's his turn for that blinding white pleasure as you grab his big, flexing biceps and drool as you clench around him.

彡★SONG MINGI - 69

song mingi sloppy toppy champion and i don't take criticism on this sorry

he enjoys eating pussy or sucking dick over sex most days, like his soul purpose is to make his significant other feel on cloud 9 (get it they're the 9 and he's the 6 haha okay-)

and when he's balls deep he can't help but go full sub mode and hump like a wild animal searching for primal release

so- head it is

but you want him to feel good too, obviously

and despite his reassurances that making you feel good in turn makes him feel good, you just can't help it

so, a mutual position is found: one were he gets to have his tongue on you, in you, all over you-

and you get to make him an even whinier mess than usual

It turns Mingi on so badly when he gets to taste you, you barely have to touch him. His tongue is deep inside you, hands kneading your ass as he makes a mess of his favorite meal. Hes so lost in the pleasure of giving that he doesn't even realize you've got his cock stuffed in your throat until he cums into the warmth of it. He's always a whiny mess between your legs, and this new position quickly becomes both of your favorites when you continue to tease him through and past his release, and he continues to slurp up the ever flowing arousal that comes from the pleasure of making him cum. It's a never ending cycle really, and neither of you dare complain.

彡★JUNG WOOYOUNG - spooning

now i would say reverse cowgirl because he's obviously an ass man- but that's his second choice

y'all seen that video of him getting all up on yunho on stage from behind ??

yeah that's why i chose this and because it's infecting my brain

something about it just makes him even more feral than usual

everything about it tbh-

let me just *licks pen*

His leg wrapped over your hip and around yours like an anaconda, using his leverage to spread your legs as you're both laid sideways, giving him all the access he could ever want. And boy does Wooyoung take advantage of it, holding you in place with his arms wrapped under your armpits and holding your shoulders tightly so you can't escape the burning heat of his body against yours while he fucks you to the next millennium. In your ass, it's slow and deep, a beautiful painful stretch. In your pussy, fast and shallow and hard, banging your g-spot until you sob. He can feel your ribs wracking with sobs of overwhelming pleasure, and he doesn't stop until you've made a mess of him just as he did you.

彡★CHOI JONGHO - prone bone

big cock!!!!!

there i said it, it had to be done

it took ages and ages to get used to his absolute girth

and even now that you're used to it it still stretches you out and shuts your brain off to put all of your willpower into your cunt so you don't break in half

and he can't help it as his mind begs him to take advantage of that fact when you're being a brat

he knows you turn into a cock whore the minute he stretches you out

and he plans to make use of that fact

Jongho is still so sweet and gentle when punishing you. He doesn't have to be rough, his veiny girth does the job naturally. Usually he'll spread you out nice and wide- not today. Not when you're a brat. He lays you face down and ties your legs together. He can barely shove his member between your pushed together thighs to get inside of you but when he does. It's like the tightest and warmest fleshlight in the world, and it's attached to the person he loves. He will make you forget your own name, just with his goliath friend and slow passionate thrusts.

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animehideout · 4 months

Note

Gojo NSFW alphabet? Pretty please.

GOJO SATORU NSFW ALPHABETS

A/n: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you like it 🥹❤️‍🔥.

Warnings 🔞⚠️: SMUT NSFW MDNI

Note : If your request isn't posted yet it's because I'm still working on them, thank you for your understanding and patience 🤍.

A= Aftercare ( How is he like after sex?)

After a rough session Gojo would treat you right. He'll spoil you. He'll get you whatever you want, snacks, water, chocolate, takeouts? Literally anything you crave. He's a giant so he will cuddle you, and you can't escape his arms.

B= Body part: ( His favorite part of your body?)

He loves every part of your body, but your thighs are his favorite. He likes to burry his head between them. He likes to pinch them, squeeze them and bite your inner thighs a lot. Your thighs both calm him and excite him depending on his mood.

C= Cum: (Where he would prefer to cum?)

Definitely your face! He finds it extremely hot and attractive. It would turn him on more and gets him hard again at the spot. Just the sight of you under him while your face drips with his cum makes him go crazy, especially if there's some on your lips and you lick it, damn he would definitely go for another session, a harder and more rough one.

D= Dirty talk:

He's so into dirty talk, like he won't shut up while you're both fucking the shit out of each other. He's very playful, so exepct a lot of teasing. He's a confident man but dirty talk boosts his confidence even more, and it makes him feel very dominant. He's rough so he would give commands and makes you do as he says.

“Oh you think you can handle me? Okay then but don't say I didn't warn you”

“Oh you're enjoying that? my little slut”

“Come on turn around now, face down”

“Feel me fucking pound it”

E= Experience: ( Is he experienced? )

He's a busy man, he works often so he doesn't have time to get into shallow relationships or even one night stands so I don't think he's very experienced, but he's rather naturally good at it. Maybe because he's confident in his body and abilities and he follows his flow so everything turns out to be perfect for him. So when he gets into a serious relationship he'll give you the best sex of your life.

F= Favorite Position:

Oh Gojo got many favorite positions and he's good at each one of them. No matter what position it is, he'll reach your G-spot and make you scream from pleasure. But if I had to mention some positions, I'd say Against the wall?! He likes it when your back hits the hard wall from how rough he's pushing his length inside you while your legs are wrapped around his torso. Also I would say missionary! He likes being on top of you while he looks at how flustered expressions and the fuck faces you make.

G= Goofy: ( Is he goofy during sex? )

Goofy like playful but definitely not vanilla. He's rough, but at the same time chill. Idk if you get it, but like he's rough in a teasing way and not the very serious way. The type that makes you both smirk.

H= Hygiene:

This man is very hygienic, he cares a lot about his appearance and cleanliness and down there as well. He makes sure he's well groomed / shaved. Also his body smells really nice, like you'd be sniffing him the whole time when he's on top of you. His scent is sweetly intoxicating. In return he prefers his partner to shave/ wax as well.

I= Intimacy:

He can be sweet if you want him to be. But most of the time he's rough. He's a man with a lot of responsibilities hanging on his shoulders, so he'd like some tough relief you know, to take everything out. And he does, when he fucks you hard. Would ask for consent first of course.

J= Jerk off:

He would masturbate very often at the thought of you. Since he's always at work, both of you won't be having a regular sex life so to relieve himself when he misses you, he sneaks somewhere and pleasures himself imagining that you're the one giving him a hand job.

K= Kink:

Moaning? your moans turn him on more and more and encourages him to fasten his pace. Your whimpers / screams / panting boosts his confidence, proving that he's fucking you right. Also he's into praise words ( receiving ), oh man just tell him that you like the way his dick slide in and out of you, just tell him how good he makes you feel, tell him that you want only his dick inside of you and see how he's gonna make you see stars.

L= Location: (His fav place to have sex)

Anywhere! But his favorites are in the shower room, pounding you against the cold wall or in the backseat of the car, he loves how the windows turn foggy after literally destroying you.

M= Motivation : (What turns him on?)

When you bend in front of him to get something. Intentional or not, it would get him instantly hard. He just loves your body so much and wants to appreciate in every way including sex

N= No: ( Something he wouldn't do)

Threesome or more are a big no no for him. He would never share you with anyone. He believes that you're his and he's yours. End of discussion.

O= Oral sex:

Of course Gojo enjoys giving head and pleasuring you but not as much as when he's the one getting it. He's a bit greedy and very egoistic so yeah he'd care a lot about his own pleasure and you have to do a great job and suck the cum out of his dick. He likes the feeling of your hands and lips around his length, while he throws his head back in satisfaction while his orgasm builds up. He likes to challenge himself, so he give you the green light till he reaches his breaking point that gets him begging for you to stop.

P= Pace:

Starts slow but then turns fast real quick. He's not worried about making you cum fast, because he'd go for many rounds and makes you cum over and over again.

Q= Quickies:

As I said Gojo is a busy man so you don't have a regular sex life, so he'd grasp the chance whenever you see each other. Even if he's seeing you for a few minutes, both of you would sneak somewhere and have a quick sex. Of course he'll make it up for you with a long ass passionate night when you have time for yourselves.

R= Risks:

I feel like Gojo is open to try new things with you, anything except involving another individual in your sex life. So by risks I mean like he might try public sex, pleasuring you under the table during an important meeting.

S= Stamina:

This man doesn't sleep, he's got a lot of energy, so he can go as long as you can handle. Does he ever get tired? no. So you better prepare yourself for a long night.

T= Toy:

I can't see him using any toys on himself or on you. When he's pleasuring you he prefers using his mouth, tongue and fingers and not toys, nothing else can fuck you expect for him. He believes that a piece of plastic won't get the job done.

U= Unfair:

Satoru is the biggest tease ever. He likes to annoy you. Sometimes, he might edge you till you start begging and pleading for him to make you cum. He's so damn good at it. And he knows how to use his teasing into making you more horny and needy for him.

V= Volume: (Is he loud?)

Satoru is so damn loud. He'd moan, groan, growl, whimper... anything. He likes how your moans harmonize together, it's like music to his ears and it pushes him to his limits. He's not shy or embarrassed, nah he wants you to hear his moans, he knows very well how it turns you on. He'd moan into your ear, also breathes heavily which is so fucking attractive. Even if you're not making love he'd occasionally moan in your ear to make you all flustered.

W= Wildcard:

Despite being a confident man, not easily offended and no one can compare to him, he's still a pretty jealous type. Even though he knows no one can get near you or compete with him or steal you away, whenever someone looks at you in a not very likable way he'd get pissed off and turns on his protective mode. If you dare to tease him and make him jealous on purpose, you already know what's waiting for you. Yep, definitely jealous sex, and if he can't contain himself till you get home then he would literally make out with you in public while everyone is watching. Gojo doesn't really give a single fuck, he'll devoure you, slip tongue, steal your breath away while he's kissing you hungry kisses.

X= X-rays:

He's a big guy so you know what to expect. Your eyes would be wide open the first time you saw him. It is indeed huge and thick, got you nervous and wondering how it would fit inside of you but it did.

Y= Yearning:

He's always ready for you to take him. Always ready for sex with you when you're in the mood of course. Due to his schedule he won't be able to be with you everyday so that accumulation of a long ass week of missing you and wanting to be inside you got him all ready and horny for when he sees you.

Z= Zzz:

Nah he won't fall asleep immediately after that. He'll pamper you first, take care of you and make sure you're comfortable and not hurt after being a total freak in bed. He'll put you to sleep and watches over you then he'll fall asleep if he managed to.

596 notes · View notes

anantaru · 1 year

Text

— he doesn't want you to leave

including kazuha, scaramouche, heizou, itto x gn! reader

genre: fluff, little kisses, they're whipped honestly, tiny bit of gossip bf kuni

— kazuha

speaking truthfully, kazuha simply cannot resist you for the life of him.

in fact, once he had officially secured you as his ever so beautiful s/o, he make sure to show you his gratitude in tiny whispers of sweet words and pleas.

additionally he'd make it his duty to shower you in both, physical and emotional affection.

doubtless, he can't help himself, being wiggled in your embrace feels like heaven, it's surreal, sometimes kazuha is certain he's actually hallucinating, but then your body warmth is dashing into him and that's when he knows it was real.

sometimes whenever he sleeps over, the moment you wake up from your slumber the next day, his arm will most likely be lazily thrown over your hips.

once he's all woken up as well, kazuha will immediately pull you softly to his chest, greeting you with a tired, sleepy smile through lidded eyes.

"five more minutes, please."

your body was enduring additional applied pressure from his arm as you turned around to face your boyfriend, staying near and deepening the profound intimacy from each other.

the easygoing pumps under his ribcage were pacifying and settled a great way to enjoy the romantic love between you both.

upon giving him what he desired at last— that being the five additional minutes he had requested, you, with enough persuasion on your own person, spoke again.

"we can't stay in bed forever kazuha."

well, well, believe it or not but kazuha was actually trying his hardest to get out of bed the whole time but how come you were especially comfy today?

you must be playing tricks on him!

"five.. more minutes please." his voice was a little unclear still, the tiredness was continuing to be laced around his words with his sleepy expression being immediately perceived by you.

what if, and that was just a little thought crossing his dizzy thoughts, what if you stayed in today?

just a couple more hours longer doing nothing at all except of laying in bed.

kazuha wasn't a fan of letting go of you right now, not today, not when you're so secure, so pleasant and cozy in his arms.

locked up in each other, you dozed off again without much persuasion required, the work responsibilities that had been shared by you were nothing more than a fleeting dream out of many.

— scaramouche

"what do you think you're doing?"

his voice slightly broke and before you knew it, scaramouche had already wrapped his arms around your waist, as if he was actually scared you'd leave him behind, haltering your attempt to break free from his hold.

"i told you i can't stay all day kuni."

still unsure of the words he had just heard, scaramouche tilted his head in both confusion and doubt, raising his brow to show the visible puzzlement caused by you.

"are you playing stupid with me again? it's still too early to go home."

ah yes, you figured, it's that time again, even though he wouldn't necessarily admit it to you, and if he did, he'd flip the narrative a tiny bit just to not make a fool out of himself.

scaramouche was a thoroughly clingy boyfriend, it cannot be denied, not with the way he was now melting you into his chest again.

tight, so very much tight you could certainly perceive his scent now, it was especially dominant around his neck.

to add to it, it was a floral aroma, but being held natural, not sweet, he absolutely despised anything sweet it made him sick to his stomach.

"you can just say you don't want me to go kuni, it's okay."

to be fair, he tried, but you couldn't help yourself and loved taunting the hell out of your boyfriend every now and then, more so when it was a slightly uncomfortable topic like that.

obviously you cherished the way he was with you, it didn't matter to you that kuni could become quite clingy either, if anything you were beyond flattered that he felt so comfortable with your presence that he needed you to stay.

"that's not what it is and you know it." slightly averting his eyes with a huffed out irritated sigh, he continued his sentence.

"i wanted to finish the story i told you but you had to cut me off."

his hands travelled on your back to playfully sway over the skin, finally meeting their proper place as he cupped your cheeks at last, drawing your head closer, "so keep your pretty eyes on me."

a fleeting kiss, just one, placed on your puckered out lips as he quickly made you rest your head on him again, not wasting anymore time.

"so where was i? oh, yeah, so the seventh harbinger has a terrible personality!"

— heizou

"would you still love me if i was a worm?"

no ifs or buts, heizou demanded a clear answer now, even the mighty detective from the tenryou commission yearned to be pampered and reassured by his s/o every once in a while.

maybe it was because of the obvious fact on how exceedingly tired from work he had gotten, or of the cosy warm way you had him tucked in your arms.

in each others embrace the world seemed to have stopped completely, pure and free, mind at peace without a single negative emotion crossing you.

some people were natural huggers and heizou perceived you as one of those, it felt as if you wrapped him in sheer love, like a sun leisurely warming up your skin on a sweet summer day.

"yes, i would." confidently stating said fact, he slightly tilted his eyes to meet yours in a sceptic expression, "you're lying."

without any question you dramatically let go off him, obviously teasing and messing with your boyfriend but the second you were attempting to do so, he had already clasped himself on your back, keeping you close.

"i would love you if you were a worm, i'd keep you in my pocket."

oh really now, you rolled your eyes and snickered at the unusual declaration as you slowly cradled your head back to allow heizou to properly hug you again.

"you're lying." confidently, you mocked his answer from before, savoring the feeling of contentment in your bones when he swayed himself closer.

"i would hug you all day, doesn't matter to me if you're slimy." you felt his body gradually press against your own and you obliged, laying yourself back into the bed, letting your muscles loosen up.

with a kiss on your forehead he welcomed you back, sometimes heizou wished to stay like this forever.

laying in bed all day while doing absolutely nothing sounded heavens made to your boyfriend.

"i‘d still love you if you were a worm heizou." - "you're still lying."

— itto

your boyfriend itto, or how he wants to be referred to, as arataki "the one and oni" itto was famous for his warm, bear hugs.

with his arms tightly cradling your body, itto swore there wasn't anything better, no other scenario could rival this momentary moment of peace. (maybe winning a beetle fight but hush)

"itto i really need to go now, i still have so much work to do."

he pouted at your words, more so did he not accept them in his mind.

without a sentence following, you lightly placed your hand onto his cheek to make it easier for you to kiss him before attempting to stand up.

"no wait!" obviously you knew how dramatic he could become whenever you had to take your leave, itto would leave nothing untouched, he'd put all of his might into the challenge of making you stay just a bit longer, so he can cuddle you a little bit more.

"i didn't tell you but, *cough*, i have again, *cough*, lost a part of me during a deadly fight."

narrowing your brows with light wrinkles making themselves visible on your forehead, you crossed your arms around your body, confused by what he meant, "what fight?"

in a single motion, itto dramatically dropped back on the mattress, his hand laid flat on his chest, right above his heart as he squealed out in pain, absolutely crushed.

"a beetle fight, please save me."

the silence was loud, truly and itto didn't open his eyes either, clearly he was waiting for a response from you.

his heart was at last, stabbed with the last inch of hope in him to make you stay as he peaked at you from squinting eyes, watching him flabbergasted.

"ormaybeiwantyoutostaylonger."

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nervoussagittarius · 2 months

Text

NSFW ALPHABET

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nsfw, y’all control the content you consume

★ aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

matt is such a sweetheart in everyday life, him being an absolute slut during sex doesn’t change that. he’s cleaning you up and dressing you. he’s offering food and water and cuddles

★ body part (their favorite of yours and theirs)

his favorite body part of yours is your eyes. he loves they way to look at him when you’re giving him head. he loves how they roll back when he’s giving you head. and he loves how pouty they get when he doesn’t give you what you want

his favorite body part on himself is his arms. they’re doing what they need to do. and you enjoy having them wrapped around your neck

★ cum (their favorite place to cum)

kid will simply cum anywhere and everywhere. your face. you back. you legs. your stomach. but he does love being able to cum inside of you. there’s something sensual about it to him

he’s not called matt the munch for no reason. he loves when you cum in his mouth

★ dirty secret (something they’ve always wanted to do but are hiding it)

matt has always wanted to fuck you on every surface in his house so no matter what room he walks into he can be reminded of how good you made each other feel there.

★ experience (how many bodies before you, what they had done)

matt has maybe 3 bodies before you. he doesn’t like meeting new people very much so he didn’t care about going out and hooking up with girls. he was pretty inexperienced when it came to different kinks and positions but you were able to teach him

★ favorite position (pretty self explanatory)

he pretty much only knew missionary and doggy before you came around. that being said he loves when you ride him and he loves when you’re in cowgirl but he’s pounding into you. such dom energy

★ goofy (how serious they are during the act)

matthew doesn’t come to play. he’s getting into it no questions asked. he’s pretty serious about sex but is always willing to crack a joke to break up any tension

★ hair (how well maintained it is)

he has a little bit of a happy trail but all in all keeps everything pretty neat and trimmed

he could not give two fucks on how you look down there. he’s going down either way.

★ intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment)

matt’s a very romantic person having sex or not. he loves just being close to you and holding you.

★ jerk off (how often they masterbate)

he doesn’t really feel like he has a need to masterbate. he knows that all he’s has to do is ask and you’ll almost always be down for sex with him. if he’s in a different state for a few weeks or on tour without you he might do it once or twice but it’s not the same to him.

★ kinks (favorite kinks)

big on praise type of guy. he loves telling you how good you’re doing and he loves being told how good he’s doing. he likes seeing you with his hand around your neck but only if you’re down

★ location (where they’ll have sex)

like i said he doesn’t really like to leave his house so his personal spaces are the places you have sex the most. his bed. his desk. his shower. the backseat of his car… but on the occasion you guys are out with his friends or brothers he’s not opposed to bending you over a bathroom sink somewhere

★ motivation (turn ons)

LOVES neck kisses. you could be giving him the most innocent neck kiss ever and he’ll instantly be bricked

★ no (something they won’t do)

matt HATES being called daddy and he will never call you mommy. no kinks for that here. he feels like there’s such a stigma around the word that it just gives him an ick hearing them.

★ oral (preference and skill)

again he’s matt the munch he’s gonna go down on you anywhere anytime. he loves making you feel good especially with his mouth. he’s so good at it too. you just get to sit back and watch

he likes getting head but it’s not a priority for him. if you enjoy giving head then he’s down but if you don’t care then he doesn’t either

★ pace (how fast or slow they go on the regular)

it depends on his mood honestly. if he’s feeling really flirty and romantic then he’s taking his time and going slow. if he’s feeling stressed or angry he’s pounding into you so fast

★ quickie (are they down and if so how often)

he’s not really into quickies but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. if there’s time crunch and one of you is in desperate need then a quickie will have to do

★ risk (are they down to experiment)

matt’s open to doing a lot. like stated before he hadn’t experienced much before you so he’s always open to try something new

★ stamina (how long they can go for)

he’s got good stamina. he can go for at least two hours lasting multiple rounds. you’ll both be whimpering overstimulated messes by the end but neither of you care enough to stop

★ toys (do they have any)

he personally doesn’t have any toys for himself. he might have a vibrator or something for you but he lowkey feels like if he has to use a toy to get you off it means he’s doing something wrong. we don’t want to hurt his ego

★ unfair (how much they’ll tease)

this man is a HUGE tease. it’s the rings and the slutty waist and the instagram pictures. he knows how to get you worked up and he won’t stop until you’re begging him to fuck you

★ volume (are they vocal)

king of dirty talk. can flip the switch from whispering sweet nothings in your ear to moaning about how good you suck his dick in seconds. there’s constant groans and screams when y’all fuck. he’s not scared of noise complaints

★ wild card (random headcannon)

he’s not afraid of nick and chris walking in on you guys. if they can hear you two it means he’s probably doing something right and that just boosts his ego

★ x ray (details on how big they are)

he’s packing a good 7 inches and has a decent width to him. but it really is about if you know how you use it and not about the size and this man has both

★ yearning (how high their sex drive is)

he’s always down to have sex but he’s usually not gonna be begging to fuck you. he’s more just interested in making sure you feel good even if that means his dick is never touched #selfless

★ Zzzs (how fast they fall asleep after)

he will always make sure you’re asleep first. he’s not one to over exert himself so he’s not fighting to keep his eyes open. he’s taught himself how to keep his energy up during and after sex

#matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo #the sturniolos #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut

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justlemmeadoreyou · 22 days

Note

hey babes have you seen that video of a fan asking Niall out recently and like he says “oh she(Amelia) will be upset” ? Could you maybe write cut blurb based on that for Harry and y/n??

words: 1.2k

warnings: fluff, smut.

***

"Oi, Harry! You single, mate? My friend fancies you!" a voice called out from the crowd during the concert.

Harry laughed and brought the microphone up to his lips. "Sorry, sorry! I'm very much taken, lads. My girlfriend wouldn't be too pleased if I went accepting offers from admirers!"

Y/N felt a rush of giddy affection watching from the wings. Even after all these years of dating, of building a life together, hearing Harry refer to her as his girlfriend still made her heart flutter.

After the show, Harry swept her up into a tight embrace, breathing her in. "You know I'm crazy about you, right love?" he murmured against her hair.

"I know," Y/N replied, feeling warm and content in the circle of his arms. "I'm pretty crazy about you too, just in case that wasn't clear."

He pulled back with a teasing grin. "Oh, I don't know. You'll have to remind me more often. I'm getting forgetful in my old age."

She swatted him playfully. "You're ridiculous. Now c'mon, I want to get takeaway from that Thai place you like before heading home."

As they walked out to the car hand-in-hand, Harry's bodyguard Mick greeted them with a nod. "Nice show tonight, H. You too, Y/N."

"Thanks Mick," Harry said easily. He always insisted that Y/N be treated as an equal part of the team by his staff and security. From the moment they got together, he made it clear she wasn't just another fling or hanger-on.

In the calm of their flat later, settled on the couch with cartons of fragrant Thai curry, Y/N felt a swell of love for this man. This generous, humble, wildly talented man who could have anyone he wanted but chose her. Chose to keep choosing her, day after day.

Harry must have sensed her watching him, because he looked up and caught her eye with a quizzical smile. "What're you thinking about over there?"

She shook her head a little. "Just…feeling really lucky, I guess. That of all the girls who fancy you, you picked me."

His eyes softened and he set his food down, reaching over to take her hand. "Y/N, you've got it backwards, love. I'm the lucky one. You're the most amazing person I know."

A lump rose in her throat at his earnest tone. "You can't just…say stuff like that and expect me to keep it together," she protested shakily.

Harry's thumb stroked over her knuckles. "It's true though. You make me want to be better, do more with the chances I've been given. I'm in awe of you every day."

Unable to find the words, Y/N leaned in and kissed him deeply, trying to convey the depths of her feelings. Harry kissed her back with equal fervor, until a wet noodle hit the side of his face with a comical splat sound.

They broke apart, stunned for a beat, until Y/N started giggling helplessly. Soon they were both consumed by laughter, food containers forgotten as they held each other. These were the moments Y/N cherished most - the simple intimacy, the shared joy of being thoroughly themselves with each other.

She couldn't imagine her life without Harry's bright spirit, without his love and support buoying her up. They had been through so much together already - the difficult early days of dating an international superstar, the intense scrutiny and pressure from all sides, the constant travelling and time apart.

Through it all, they had remained committed to choosing each other, fighting for their relationship no matter what curveballs life threw their way.

As their laughter faded off into contented silence, Harry pulled Y/N closer until she was tucked against his side. She let out a happy sigh, feeling utterly at peace.

"You know," Harry murmured after a while. "All those fans shouting for me, acting like I'm some big prize to be won…they don't realize I'm the one who hit the jackpot, getting to be with my best friend."

Not trusting her voice, Y/N simply squeezed him tighter. She knew there would always be people trying to get between them, throwing doubts and obstacles in their path. But she also knew with so much certainty - as long as they had this, had each other, nothing else mattered.

Over the next few months, tour life resumed in earnest. Frantic dashes through airports, screaming crowds, hotel room nights blurring together, every waking moment scheduled to the max. Y/N was grateful she could be by Harry's side through the whirlwind, her familiar presence keeping him grounded and sane.

One night after a show in Los Angeles, they were lounging on the hotel room sofa, Harry's head pillowed in Y/N's lap as she carded her fingers gently through his freshly-shampooed hair that always smelt so fucking good.

"You were amazing tonight, babe," Y/N murmured. "That whole stadium was eating out of the palm of your hand."

Harry hummed contentedly at her praise, his eyes slipping closed. "Felt good up there. Like all the pieces just clicked into place once I saw your face in the crowd."

Y/N's heart squeezed at his words. "You mean that?"

"Of course." He blinked up at her solemnly. "Having you there, it's…it's like coming home, no matter where we are in the world."

Tears pricked at the corners of Y/N's eyes as she leaned down to kiss him tenderly. She loved this man so deeply it terrified her sometimes.

As the kiss deepened, Harry's hands came up to cradle her face, holding her to him almost desperately. Soon they were a tangle of roaming hands and shared breaths, shedding layers of clothing with increasing urgency until they lay skin-to-skin, hot and bothered.

Harry trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down the column of Y/N's throat as she arched beneath him with a breathy moan. "Need you," he rasped against the hollow of her neck. "Need to be with you, feel you…"

"Yes, yes Harry please," she panted, raking her nails down his back.

He shuddered at her touch and surged up to capture her lips again in a searing kiss. Then, with practiced tenderness, he sank into her welcoming heat and they both let out ragged gasps at the intensity of that joined feeling.

Moving together in a rhythm, Harry and Y/N lost themselves in each other, with moans and whimpers exchanged between the two as they chased their highs. This was their oasis, their refuge from the craziness of the world outside - just the two of them, tangled up in each other utterly.

Aftershocks still trembling through them both, Harry gathered Y/N close and pressed his lips to her damp hairline.

"I love you," he murmured thickly. "I love you so bloody much, Y/N."

She tilted her head back to gaze at him with sparkling eyes. "I know. And I love you, Harry. Always."

Smiling softly, he brushed the pad of his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. "Forever my girl?"

"Forever," she promised.

***

tell me if you like this <3

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pursuitseternal · 6 months

Text

“Anything to Reassure You, My Sweetest…” smutty reassurance for jealousy update to “Bites in the Night” series

Rogue Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K reassuring smut and body worship

Summary: You’ve made it to Baldur’s Gate, but you haven’t two coins to rub together. In a tavern, your Vampire Rogue puts his skills to use, and stokes your jealousy in the process. What it takes to convince you, to reassure you will surely cool your temper and arouse… other feelings.

Cw: Acts 2-3 spoilers, flirty, busty barmaids, jealous feelings, denial of such feelings, very convincing reassurance of undying undead devotion, breaking and entering (technically?), body worship, slight sensory deprivation, cum tasting, adoring nsfw activities

Read on AO3 | read series on AO3 | Masterlist

Come, be convinced…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The tavern is packed, so many pockets that could be picked, so much smoke in the air to cover the scent of rich, roasted foods and fragrant ales.

And you, you sit at a table, pockets bare since you reached Baldur’s Gate. It took every coin you had to secure a place to stay for you all. Now, you each ventured out to find food for yourselves. Each alone, save for you and your vampiric lover, your second shadow.

He is always at your side, especially since reaching the city. Especially since he finally confessed his need for you and his guilt for manipulating you with lust and desire. Since he admitted he wanted something genuine with you, that you were different. Special. But that means something new for you both, something that explores your intimacy in new ways. Ways that limit the physical desire between you. No matter how fierce that desire is for you.

He has been through so much, been denied so much. Even soft things, intimate things, have been twisted for him. And now he needs you more than for your body. You are necessary for his healing, for his own sake, and now he is even closer by your side than when you were… intimate.

But still, for all his closeness physically and emotionally, you fret if there is to be a path for you both forwards.

It gnaws at the back of your mind. Especially in crowded, peopled places like this. His old sort of hunting grounds.

And while he is hunting for your next meal instead of Cazador’s, you chew your lower lip. Only hunting now is picking pockets or convincing someone to buy you something of substance rather than the manipulation and seduction of his delectable body to entice a vampire’s next victim.

His voice cuts through the din to your ear, sharp and quick like one of his daggers. He’s laughing… you lean over to look around some massive Tiefling that’s in your way.

You catch sight of him, leaning over the bar, his teeth flashing bright and wide at the little barmaid as she giggles in response. You scan her, so petitte and busty, and yet you catch a glimpse of her narrow waist as she turns towards the kitchen. Her hair is perfect, soft little curls, washed and brushed until it shines. Your hands start to pick at the stands of your own, washed a day ago… maybe? And you start to brush it with your fingers as if that will fix it.

He’s waiting, frozen with that provocative grin, head cocked mischievously to the side. You suddenly see why, she returns with a plate piled high with roasted meat and steaming potatoes and a large mug of ale. The wench sets it in front of Astarion, his lips moving as he speaks something that makes the girl’s cheeks flame bright pink. Even her little turned up nose turns rosy.

Then, your heart sinks, only to leap to your throat right after. You can’t look away, the pretty little barmaid leaning across the dirty, sticky counter to press a kiss against your love’s cheek.

You watch him make some reply, that smile still frozen on his lips, those brows still canted rakishly. Taking the plate and mug in hand, he comes your way.

And you, your ears are burning and your throat is tight. Jealousy claws inside you, seething as you turn your head, unable to look at him while he sits beside you in the booth, the little round table before you doing nothing to give you distance.

“Here darling,” he croons, setting the food and drink before you alone. “Best eat up and replenish,” he crouches close to you, his lips featherlight against your neck, tickling that sensitive spot behind your ear. “For I cannot feed until you do, you know..”

“Suddenly I’m not hungry,” you mumble, pushing the plate back towards Astarion. Your eyes still fixed on a divet on the table in front of you.

“Darling…” you feel his hand gently turning your chin. Your head responds. Of course it does. You crave his touch with how much you miss it, everyday in agony to be so close to him, no longer indulging in the comfort of your bodies. “What’s the matter?”

You can’t look up, fists clenching in your lap. Tugging your head from his touch, you grumble an unconvincing, “Nothing.” You scooch down the bench, grabbing a fork, deciding it might be better to stuff your mouth instead of having to talk. But before you can lift the pewter fork from the table, he slams his hand down on it.

Damn his stupid rogue reflexes.

Then you look up at him, jealousy burning hot as anger inside your twisting innards. “Let go,” you snap.

“Not until you tell me whatever is the matter,” he teases, his brows furrowing with disapproval.

You pause a moment, that bubble of jealousy ready to burst and fling your hot words of vitriol in his face. But you swallow them back down. “Actually I think I’ll go find Halsin, foraging in the woods sounds far more preferable to this packed tavern.” You huff, “I’m sure you’ll find some company in my absence….”

“I dont think so, darling not until you say what the fuck is going on?” he hisses, a firm hand on your shoulder as you try to stand. “Spit it out, my sweet.”

You take a shaky, deep breath, watching as that pretty thief of a barmaid saunters past your table. Her clear blue eyes scan Astarion beside you, but he doesn’t even notice. His crimson gaze is a pinpoint on you, and you alone; his face is a mix of concern and agitation. It furrows those brows and wrinkles his nose as he stares intensely at you.

“Now,” he whispers, closing the distance between you on the seat, “please tell me whatever is the matter, my love.”

You give a single, breathy disparaging laugh.

“Come on,” he places a single hand over one of your balled up fists. “If I can admit to weeks of attempting to manipulate you and falling in love with you instead, you can admit a bit of jealousy…”

Your eyes dart wide, your mouth hanging open.

“Please, I know every movement of your body, I can feel every twitch and clench of your muscles, every rap of your heartbeat.” He softens a bit, his thumb gently stroking over your clenched hand trying to soften it. “But why you would be so easily piqued by some bar wench is beyond my understanding, darling.”

“She…” you swallow the lump that burns and grates in your throat. “She kissed you.”

“Without invitation, mind you,” he sneered as he glanced back where the offense occurred. “Made my undead skin crawl. But I needed to get you something to eat, so I left the foolish girl alone without so much a thank you…”

“Didn’t look like it from here,” your teeth grit as you talk. “Besides, I can understand, Astarion. She’s beautiful and clean, petite and curved, flouncing hair and puckered lips and rosy cheeks and…”

He silences your mouth with a commanding kiss. “There is only one set of puckered lips mine will ever taste, darling,” he murmurs between the intoxicating workings of his mouth, “yours, my sweet.”

Those fingers dexterously tangle at the back of your neck, sweeping through your locks to brush them back off your shoulders. “You are so beautiful, your skin tanned and scarred from our battles, side by side… your cheeks glowing with the exertion of our adventures…”

He lifts his mouth to look you straight in the eyes, “Your heart beating all the quicker the closer I get, as if you hope I’ll ask you for a bite later…”

“Gods, yes,” you breathe. “If only to make sure you have someone to care for you, Astarion. Whether we are…” you blush and look back at that divet in the table, “…intimate or not…”

“Tch,” he leans in, his eyes wide and soft with adoration. “See what I mean, darling? I would take you over every other being in Faerûn.” His arms wind around your back, hand cupping the curves of your ass to bring you flush against him. “I mean… perhaps I’m warming to the idea of you thinking about me…” he pauses, his face twisting with that rakish smirk, “and I do mean sexually, to be clear.”

You giggle, his light fingers scratch their way up your thigh, tracing little circles through the soft leather that covers your skin.

He breathes right into your ear, honey-sweet words that spike your pulse all the more. “I don’t know if it’s the music and wine in the air, or the way your heart is just violently throbbing with your jealousy, my pet, but right now, finally, I want nothing more than to show you some… reassurance… of my devotion to you.”

“But…” you tease, craning your neck to press you nose against his, “the food…”

“Mmm, you’re not going to want a full belly anyway once we find some privacy and I begin what I’m planning to do to you… Trust me,” he grins those fangs at you, “you’ll feel very… very full.”

Nevertheless, you take a few bites of the hard won offering of food, just enough to sate your growling stomach. A swig of ale to chase it down is all he allows you before he rises so quickly from the table, it scoots across the floor with a screech. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you through the packed crowd towards a hall, the shadows dancing with flickering torchlight. Rooms line the corridor, but all of them are locked.

The moment you are alone, away from deafening voices and judging eyes, he’s on you. That wiry strength of his body cages you against a door. His mouth captures your lips, his own hunger, for blood, for your body, is palpable with every suck of his lips and dive of his tongue. His fangs and teeth catch your lips and steal your breath.

He hungers.

You feel him smiling against your lips, his body, hardened from fighting and lean from his feeding on your blood all along your journey. Hands run up and down your arms, clutching you tightly against him. And then, he laughs, “Why I do think we have found the perfect little nowhere for the right price.” Before his meaning sinks into your lust-clouded mind, he’s crouching, planting little kisses over your clothing as he goes. His lockpick in hand, he works his own brand of magic, face resting on your thigh as the latch clicks, the door swinging open behind you.

“Always so quick to slide your tools into little holes, aren’t you, Astarion?”

He says nothing as he stands, no words needed. Not when he gives you that ravenous smirk, his brows canted so deliciously. Before you can even breathe, he’s scooped you in his arms, carrying you into the darkened room, a swift shove of his hip to shut it firmly behind you both. You can barely see anything, there is no light. No candle or fire in this vacant chamber. Besides, his face is far too close as he consumes you in that commanding kiss of his. Something soft cradles your body as he sets you down, the comforting embrace of a feather bed.

Gods, when had you last been in a bed… it almost makes your body stretch in anticipation more than the way he’s crawled over you in it. Every brush of his body, every angle of his hips and pressure of his knee to spread your legs for him is deliberate. It’s so dark, the room lit only by some tiny window high above the bed, you can just barely make out the edges of his body on top of you, the little curls of his hair around his head that won’t ever be tamed.

No sights to take in, your every sense is heightened, flooded with the feeling of his hands that tug your clothes off your body, overwhelmed by the sound of his panting breaths in your ear, the taste of his tongue in your mouth each time he returns for more and more of your lips.

Before you know it, he’s pulled you up, slipping your shirt off from over your head, his voice purring in your ear. “Now, let’s see… you seemed to think your body inferior to that little wench.” He’s kissing into your ear, the lapping of his tongue deafening you, making your spine spasm with tingles, every nerve now lit on fire and hot with need. “Let’s begin to dispel those silly ideas, my love.”

He lifts from you, in the dark, all you can do is feel that cold weight of his body slipping from you. You whimper alone in the shadowed, strange bed. But you can hear he’s close, his voice softly shushing you, his fingers deftly sliding your breeches from your legs. His touch grazing over your skin now makes you whimper for new, all-consuming reasons.

Especially as you, now completely naked, feel him leaning closer to you, climbing back into the bed as the mattress bends under his weight. Your wimpers become full-throated moans as his hand comes to trace a single finger up your belly.

“Hmmm, I think you find your figure less… arousing,” he whispers, as you find his hands splayed on either side of your head, his knees shifting to straddle you… That’s when you realize it’s his skin now that brushes your flesh.

You feel movement over your belly, hearing the soft brushing of skin on skin, realization dawning as your head lifts and eyes widen to try to see. You can make it out faintly in the shadows, his hand beating slowly over his long, pulsing cock.

Oh, you missed that sight…. It makes you shiver beneath him, where he’s pinned you softly into the bed. “Clearly, we might not see eye to eye on how… arousing you truly are, darling.” His hand finds yours from your side, wrapping them together around his length. “See…” he leans his face into yours, his breath cold, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I think this proves you quite wrong…” you groan as he lays on top of you, your legs parting naturally to let him in, to wrap him tightly between your trembling thighs.

Every part of your body hums with need. At last. After so long. “Need more… convincing?” he purrs into your mouth, that erection now prodding over the top on your mound and pushing into your belly.

“Mmm,” you moan, pressing your own hips up into him, “always…”

“Tch,” he catches your lower lip in his teeth, “greedy little minx. I suppose it is fitting I indulge you. I can rid you of all that nagging doubt, darling…” his lips release yours one more time, trailing little sucks on your neck, your collarbone, your chest, until those full, smirking lips encircle your nipple.

And suck hard.

You mewl, biting your lip hard to keep from screaming.

“The softness of your breasts, the way they harden the moment I touch them, there is nothing like it…” he whispers against your tingling flesh, his mouth dragging with little nips to attend to your other one. Your back arches, your frame shaking to have his mouth on you once more, hands running through those soft, unkempt locks, as if you could trap him against you forever like this.

“More?” he taunts you, giving your nipple one last lingering drag of his teeth.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Convince me more…”

“It would be my pleasure,” he gives you that leer that sets your blood on fire, your innards quickening as his hand reaches back between your legs. The cold press of his fingers parts you, drawing their touch through your molten slick, a little teasing circle on your clit sending your whole body shaking. You raise your hips, wanting so much more, but his touch slips away.

Only to have him slide those drenched fingers between his own smiling, pouting lips. “Mmm,” he growls, “delicious…” He crooks his brows as you watch, so engrossed with the way his lips purse around the slight thrust of his fingers into his mouth. Then, he chuckles, low and deep, “Would you like a taste of just how divine you are?”

You give him half a smile, opening your mouth to let your tongue slide out, eager and anticipating.

Those fingers dive right back into your soaked cunt, crooking deep inside your channel as you squirm to feel so filled once more. You close your eyes as his hand withdraws, the salty tang of your own arousal brushing your waiting tongue. Your lover groans over you as you close your mouth, warm and wet, around his fingers. Fingers he slowly strokes between your lips.

“You are so perfect, every time…” he whispers, his throat thick with his need as his voice grates in your ear.

As his fingers disappear, your breath stops, drawn from your lungs by his devouring kiss. “I’m beginning to feel reassured,” you pant, your hands running over those ridges of scarring on his back, almost as familiar to you as your own marks and scars from battle.

“You had better. You are my only one, darling,” he growls against the pillowy flesh of your breasts, raising his head to look you straight in the eyes. His crimson gaze intense, filled with that glint of possessiveness, softened slightly by the dependence that brims from their depths. “And I’ll fuck every bit of your doubt from you, my sweet.”

“Please,” you beg, sighing to feel that thick, blunt, beautiful head of his cock pressing into you slowly. Your body squirms, stretching around him, taking him deeper as you try to relax. You pant, hands riding the little clenching thrusts of his ass as he gently works his way further into you.

And you moan, stretching like you’re a virgin all over again. Fitting him into your deepest recesses. Your legs raise, gripping around his narrow, lean waist. His mouth whispering his praises over your tongue as they tangle together. “Yes, darling, you’re so good,” he’s groaning, his hips thrusting and swiveling oh so slowly. Lovingly. “My one, my only…”

Your words fail. Only little breaths and sighs and noises left as your mind is swept away. Nothing more than the way your bodies are joined at last. It’s wave after wave of pleasure up your spine as he takes his time, as he meticulously plunders you. You buck, riding each thrilling drag of his cock inside you. His arms weave around your shoulders, embracing you, pulling you so every inch of your body is drawn hard against his, your yielding curves flattened, pressed and confined against him, all lean and hard and brawny as he is.

At last words tingle on your tongue. “You’re mine too, my one…” you finally pant, your voice harsh as your pleasure begins to crest, to crash through you to take control of your every nerve and every sense.

Your words, they trigger something inside him, suddenly that slow rhythm of love-making turns sharper. He’s demanding and pulsing, his thrusts harder, faster. You feel his nails clawing into the skin of your back, his breathing growing ragged and hissing between his clenched teeth.

On the cusp of control, he’s barely bridled, fangs grinding as he chases his climax, pushing you hard into yours. You shatter, shivering and clenching around his cock, his length hammering hard to fill you to bursting even as you can’t take any more of him inside. Your hand flies to cover your screams, your arousal squirting around him, soaking your thighs, his cock, even as you feel him spewing his seed to mix with your juices. Groan after groan through his firmly shut mouth, and he finally stills inside you, over you. One last breathless kiss on your lips, and he rests his head next to yours. His pants tickle right in your ear.

“That…” you whisper, turning your face to plant a kiss against the two little scars on his neck, “was….” you run out of words, too many flooding your brain to pick just one. So, you brace your hands on either side of his face, lifting it to bring his mouth to yours, one more time.

“Anything to reassure you, my sweetest,” he whispers, returning your kiss gently, tenderly, on the damp of your forehead.

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obaex · 9 months

Text

pinch me - jj maybank

summary: when you turn 17, your body begins to mirror anything that happens to your soulmate, but with so many marks and bruises, why is yours so hard to find?

word count: 2.9k

a/n: happy obx writing week! this is for day 1: au with jj! thank you to the lovely @surftrips for planning this event. this fic's a little different, but i am simply a sucker for a soulmate au. italics are jj's perspective. ♡

The flowers bloomed on your skin like a tattoo, delicate but dark. Large roses, orchids, lilies and daffodils tangled with leaves to form a winding pattern that started on your hand before appearing on your arm. You lifted your shirt to see them swirl on your ribs, near your stomach. It was mesmerizing to watch, beautiful, hypnotizing even, the sensation felt like a pleasant tingle beneath your skin that now danced on your cheek, around your eye. You lay down on your bed, closed your eyes, and willed the patterns to disappear by morning.

You knew when you turned 17 that this could happen, that your body would begin to mirror any impact on your soulmate’s skin, so you weren’t necessarily surprised. What did surprise you was the frequency with which the marks appeared, their breadth, their size. Your chest ached with the knowledge that whoever your heart was tethered to underwent physical pain on a regular basis.

You searched for your other half eagerly, knowing they wouldn’t be hard to find: a split lip, a black eye, bruised knuckles, but of course there was no one that looked like that on Figure 8. Your friends sought out their matches based on the occasional skinned knee, maybe a broken finger playing lacrosse; when they asked you about it, you lied and said you hadn’t felt anything yet, too heartbroken to share the truth and the fact that your person was nowhere to be found.

When your best friend Sarah Cameron found her match, you couldn’t help but be happy for her, even though she had found him on the wrong side of the island. She and John B began spending every day together; you were lucky if you could steal her away for an afternoon at the beach, and even then, she spent every moment gushing about him. Before long she was begging you to come hang out with him and his friends. You were undeniably skeptical, but by now your own flowered marks had stopped appearing and even though you knew that was a good thing for your other half, in a way you missed them, missed the connection, the reminder that someone out there was meant for you. You needed something to distract you, and John B and his friends proved to be the perfect distraction, especially JJ Maybank.

You and JJ fell into an immediate friendship that was unlike any you’d had before. Frankly, it shocked the other pogues – what could a marina rat and a kook princess possibly have in common? On the surface, the answer was nothing, but it’s like you just clicked right from the first day you met. You were always laughing at each other’s jokes, tears brimming your eyes, unable to catch your breath no matter how stupid they seemed to everyone else. You would finish each other’s sentences, you could read into each other’s emotions, able to understand one another when words fell short, ready with a hug or a smile when they needed it most. You had a casual intimacy, your head resting on his shoulder when you watched a movie, him always needing to have the seat next to you whether in the twinkie or in the back yard at the chateau, you permanently wearing at least one article of his clothing at any given time. You were having fun, your time with JJ distracting you from the loneliness you had felt before.

Everyone had become so obsessed with this soulmate thing - JJ didn’t think it was even real. He had never felt a thing, grateful at least that that meant his soulmate had a life very different from his own. But, why did people care so much? He had seen and heard John B go on and on about it, but all he wanted to do was ignore it, convinced that that kind of thing just wasn’t meant for someone like him.

He never knew if his parents had had it, and even if they did, what good had it done them? His mom left and his dad was gone now too, having finally taken off for the Yucatan months ago. Good riddance.

No, JJ preferred to focus on what he could control, to believe what was right in from of him, and for now that was Y/N. He wasn’t sure what a girl like that was doing hanging around with a pogue like him, but he wasn’t going to question it, grateful for every day he got to spend with her. He loved the way she made him feel, like he was always the center of her attention no matter what was going on around them - he’d never had that before, had never been someone’s first priority. He loved the way she would laugh uncontrollably with him, how big her smile got, how her nose would crinkle. He loved the way she curled into his arms when she had a bad day, seeking him out for comfort and reassurance; he loved knowing he could be that for somebody. He loved when she leaned on him when they watched movies, how sometimes her eyelids fluttered closed and she’d breath heavily against him, wrapping her arms around him in her sleepy state – that was his favorite.

The funny thing was, she didn’t seem to believe in this soulmate thing either, never chiming in when the inevitable conversation came up. And that made him feel like maybe he had a chance. He tried every day to muster the courage, to find the right words to say to ask her out, which is where his mind wandered while he spent the afternoon at work at the marina, pissed that he was missing a day on the boat with her.

The HMS Pogue bobbed gently to the rhythm of the waves as John B and Pope cast their rods into the water. You, Sarah and Kie were lying on the bow, soaking in the scorching rays of the sun as sweat dripped down your body.

“OK, I’m getting in the water, it’s too damn hot” Kie said resolutely, standing up.

“Yes please” you said, jumping up, pulling off your sunglasses and diving in, beating her to the punch.

The salt water cooled your skin immediately, bringing instant relief. You let out a sigh as your head breached the surface and you began to float on your back. It was only a moment before you felt something slimy and looked around you to see you had jumped right into a school of jellyfish. You tried to swim away, shrieking, before they began to sting you, their barbed tentacles attaching to your side as you tried to knock them away and scrambled back to the boat. You pulled yourself shakily out of the water, tenderly feeling the burns on your skin as tears overflowed in your eyes.

JJ was spraying down the latest kook yacht to pull into the marina, washing and rinsing mindlessly, his thoughts drifting to you and back again when he felt an itch on his side. He scratched it absentmindedly, attempting to ignore it when it persisted in a tingling feeling. He rubbed it harder before finally lifting his shirt to see a tattooed pattern of vines winding up his side. He shoved his shirt down and looked around, hoping nobody had seen. He dropped the hose in his hand and stumbled inside before he pulled his shirt off to inspect his skin more closely. He was mesmerized by the sensation and the pattern on his skin, his heart racing with excitement until he realized what this meant, his joy waning as his sympathy grew for this person he didn’t even know. He pressed his hand against the vines, like he could make them stop, but they persisted. He could hear his boss yelling for him, so he quickly pulled his shirt back on, his head spinning as he went back to work.

The rest of the afternoon and evening you walked around gingerly, icing your side, putting ointment on it, but nothing seemed to quell the burning sensation of the barbs in your skin. You pulled on one of JJ’s soft, oversized sweatshirts and a pair of shorts and joined your friends in John B’s backyard, trying to focus on anything else to forget the pain you were in.

Thankfully, JJ showed up right after his shift. You had missed him all day, wishing he had been out on the boat with you; he would have known just what to say, how to make you laugh, exactly how to make you feel better, and that’s all you wanted right now.

He settled into his chair beside you, but didn’t meet your gaze, didn’t acknowledge you at all; he looked a thousand miles away.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, picking up on his demeanor immediately.

“Hmm?” he said, glancing at you quickly before looking away. In truth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the tingling on his side, which had started to fade, but that he could still feel. He looked back at you, examining you. You were perfectly fine. No one had hurt you, you weren’t in pain, and he was overwhelmingly grateful for that, but at the same time, selfishly, he knew that that meant that you weren’t his, weren’t the one for him and it crushed him.

He looked at you with sad eyes, his ocean blues scanning yours, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before shutting it, shaking his head and ignoring you, choosing to focus on the beer in his hand instead.

You scrunched your face in response, hurt by his dismissal, especially after the day you'd had. You had been so sure he would make you feel better, that he would pull you into his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay, and now he wouldn’t even talk to you.

“Okay then” you said, standing up quickly, wanting to put some distance between you before your emotions got the best of you. “Anyone need another drink?” you asked as you made your way inside. John B shook his near-empty can in the air and you nodded, turning quickly so no one would see the tears in your eyes as you slammed the door behind you.

“What was that about?” John B said as he looked over at JJ.

JJ just shook his head and shrugged, trying to shake off your reaction, his feelings, and failing miserably.

“She seemed upset” Kie pushed, not used to seeing the two of you at odds with each other, ever. “You could at least try to be nice to her, Jayj, she had a shitty day.”

“Pfft understatement of the year” Pope agreed as he took a swig of his beer, “she put up a tough front but I’ve never seen stings that bad before, had to be the man-o-wars, she jumped right into them.”

JJ’s ears perked up. “What?” he asked, trying to catch up.

“She got stung, asshole, like fifteen times” Kie replied, gesturing to her side.

The same side where JJ’s skin still tingled.

JJ’s mouth ran dry and he could feel his heart start to hammer in his chest. It couldn’t be… could it?

He stood up, dropped his beer at his feet and ran after you.

“Y/N!!” he called as soon as he was inside, nearly tripping over the furniture on his way to reach you in the kitchen.

You were leaning with your back against the counter, your eyes meeting his as you wiped at your tears, not wanting him to know how upset he’d made you.

“You’re – Pope said – you – today –“ he stumbled over his words as he gestured outside and then to you.

You looked at him, utterly confused.

He shook his head, trying to clear it as he ran his hands through his hair, willing his heart to slow down just enough for him to get his words out.

“Today. You got stung. A-Are you okay?” he said through labored breath.

You shrugged, still angry with him. “I’m fine” you said.

“Nah, don’t do that, don’t play it off, Pope said it was bad, worst that he’s seen in a long time. C-Can I see?” he asked.

You didn’t know what good it would do at this point but you set your drink down and tenderly reached for the bottom of your sweatshirt, lifting it up to expose the angry red skin on your side, wincing slightly as your fingers grazed it.

JJ stepped closer to you, one hand on your stomach, the other on your hip, careful to avoid touching your wounds as he looked closely at it, then at you. He felt his breath hitch as his emotions overwhelmed him at the thought of this happening to you. You immediately registered the sympathy in his eyes and the fact that he seemed completely distraught, his own eyes nearly brimming with tears.

“Hey, I’m alright, it’s alright, J” you said, not fully grasping the look in his eyes.

He took his hands away, but didn’t step back from you as he lifted his own shirt. You could make out the faint remains of a twisted pattern of vines that ran up his side. Your hands flew to your mouth in shock.

“JJ…” you cautioned. Despite how much you desperately wanted this to be true, you both knew that this could be a coincidence, that that happened all the time. Your eyes met his and you could see the longing shining in them as they met yours, unwavering.

“Pinch me” he said, holding out his arm.

“What?” you asked.

“Pinch me, hard, do it,” he said again, pushing his arm closer to you.

Part of you wanted to know the truth, needed to know the truth, but a larger part of you was scared, horrified for this be a coincidence, and what that would mean for both of you. The idea that JJ might not be yours had your chin wobbling as you looked at him.

“Please, gorgeous, I need to know” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

You reached out tentatively and pinched the skin on his forearm hard enough to leave a pink mark where your fingers had squeezed. Within seconds you could feel the tingle on your own skin, your emotions bubbling up as you laughed and then cried, JJ grabbing you by the shoulders, desperately trying to read your emotions as you pulled up your sleeve to reveal the rose that had bloomed on your own arm, matching his own. He looked down as tears welled in his own eyes.

“D-Do it again” he said, now that he could see it, holding out his arm.

“JJ” you said through your tears, urging him to accept what was in front of him.

“Do it again” he said, and as you pinched him a daisy bloomed next to the rose, leaves tangling together. He watched the pattern, willing himself to accept that this was much more than a coincidence, to accept that he could have this, have you, that you were made for him.

He pulled you into his arms, burying his head in your shoulder as you shook, your arms circling him and hands grasping the back of his shirt like a lifeline, unwilling to let him go.

“My God, oh my God” he muttered next to you as he rocked you back and forth.

“W-wait” you said, pulling back reluctantly to look at him. His eyes were blown wide, totally focused on you.

“What is it, beautiful?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

Your hand came up to cup his face. “Last year” you whispered, tracing your finger under his eye, across his cheek, running it over his lips, tracing all the places you seen flowers on your own skin. He hung his head, pressing his forehead to yours.

“My dad” he said simply in reply as he realized, reluctantly, that you now knew better than anyone what he had been through.

“I’m so sorry” you whispered.

“It’s okay. I’m okay now” he reassured you as his hands reached up to cup your face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded as your eyes met his, your mind still reeling, trying to piece together what was in front of you: this boy, with his long hair, his tender eyes, his perfect smile, his infectious laugh, his warm hugs was it, was yours, forever. You smiled at him and he smiled at you as his mind pieced together the same thing.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked and you laughed in response. “I wanted it to be you. From the moment I met you, I wanted this” he said. You nodded vigorously in agreement, your instant connection so many months ago making so much sense now.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You nodded more vigorously as he brought your lips to his.

He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you, but was reassured by the fact that he’d have eternity to do so as he pressed his lips softly to yours, savoring the feeling, and the way you pressed into him, opening up to him almost immediately, grasping his shirt and pulling him against you, against the counter as you hummed in response, your pain long forgotten as the pleasure of his body, his heart beating against your own took over. He ran his fingers into your hair as his tongue tangled with yours and he swore nothing in the world would ever compare to this.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #obx jj #obx jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obxweek23 #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj obx #outerbanks jj #jj outer banks #jj x reader #obx fanfiction

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winchestershiresauce · 1 month

Text

Dandelion Wine

Summary: When Halsin joins Gale and Tav in the bedroom for the first time, they all get more than they bargained for. This is a tale of intimacy, multiple orgasms, and trying new things.

Gale x f!Tav x Halsin; Halsin x f!Tav; Gale x Halsin; Gale x f!Tav

7851 words

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Smut, M/F, M/M, polyamory, oral sex (f and m receiving), squirting, unprotected PIV, processing trauma, insecurity, discomfort interrupting sex, come eating, so much more

A/N: I think I left a piece of my soul in this fic - let me know if you like it! Comments and reblogs always much appreciated.

The first time Halsin joins them, Gale insists that he only wants to watch. Despite being intellectually on board with multiple relationships, he’s worried that his body will remain firmly in the monogamous camp. He loves Tav, and he trusts her with every fiber of his being, but it still feels overwhelming and a bit scary to imagine sharing such a vulnerable experience with anyone other than her. Hells, he still finds himself feeling self-conscious in his most intimate moments with her, through no fault of her own.

Before Halsin arrives, Gale paces back and forth through the room. He and Tav have discussed seemingly every aspect of the situation to death and back, but he still feels like he is about to jump from great heights with no backup parachute.

Tav walks into their room at the inn with an armful of water carafes and fruit. When she sees the tension in Gale’s body, his shoulders nearly at his ears, her smile fades to a look of concern. He’s thankful that it’s not a look of pity – he’s not sure he could handle that at this moment – but a loving glance with worry behind her eyes.

“I’m afraid they’ll charge us extra for damages if you wear a hole in the floor with your pacing.” She sets the drinks and snacks down on the table in the corner and strides over to where he’s now frozen in place.

“I’m sorry, my love. I know that we’ve been planning this for weeks but I can’t help but find myself feeling terribly nervous. Granted, I’m also excited. I want to see how everything will go, but the nerves won’t settle.” Tav brushes a strand of hair out of his face and tucks it behind his ear. He melts into her touch.

“My silly wizard, there is nothing to apologize for. It’s perfectly natural to be both excited and nervous about something, especially something that’s so new to you! In fact, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t nervous at all. This is a big step and no matter how it goes, some things will change. However, I need you to remember that your comfort and security are just as important as mine and Halsin’s, so I need to be sure that you’ll speak up if you want anything to stop or slow down.” Gale sighs and takes her hands into his. His thumb strokes over the soft skin of her knuckles as he ponders his reply.

“I will, I promise. I believe that you and I have practiced enough that I can say what needs to be said in the moment. I know how to stop things and I will do so if necessary.” He brings their hands up to his mouth and places the softest of kisses to each individual knuckle on her left hand. “I don’t want to back out of this if you’re worried about that,” he adds.

“And if you did want to back out, that would be more than fine! There are plenty of other things we could do while we’re here that don’t involve potentially opening partially healed wounds in the name of sexual exploration.” There’s a slight tease in her tone, but he knows she’s sincere. He’s always admired the way that she can still use humor in any situation without taking away from the significance.

“I know, and thank you. I want to reiterate that I want this, I merely need a bit more reassurance than I expected to.”

“Good thing I brought extra, then.” She grins. He’s not sure he’ll ever get over the butterflies in his belly when she looks at him with such kindness and love. She’s the first person – unless you count Tara – that he knows loves him for every aspect of himself and not just his intellect or what he can do for her. Somehow, she looks his flaws right in the face and draws them into her heart.

Just then, there's a knock at the door. Tav doesn't move to answer it yet, searching Gale's face for any minute reaction. “Do you want me to tell him to wait? I need to make sure you're in the right headspace before he comes in.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm okay. I'm ready. I’ll let him in.” Gale places a kiss on Tav’s forehead and glides over to the door. When he opens it and sees the calm and patient smile on the elf’s face, Tav notices how the tension dissolves from his body.

“Gale! You look well!” Halsin claps a hand on Gale’s shoulder and gives him a reassuring squeeze. A grin spreads across the wizard’s face as his body remembers how calm he tends to feel in Halsin’s presence. There's something about the other man that makes Gale feel secure and cared for, which helps many of his worries dissipate.

“As do you, my friend,” Gale greets him and steps aside to let him stride into the room. Halsin approaches Tav, and Gale is surprised that the look of joy and reverence on her face does not spur jealousy but instead spreads warmth through his chest. He adores being on the receiving end of such a look, and he is glad to find that he loves it all the same no matter who brought that look to her face.

Halsin towers over Tav, resting the heel of his hand on her collarbone so that his fingers brush the side of her neck and his thumb can trace the shape of her jaw. “My heart,” he purrs, locking eyes with her as if gazing into her very soul.

She presses her palm against his chest and feels his heart beating strongly beneath her touch. She’s always amazed how he can remain so calm in the face of anything, so in tune with his own body that his control never seems to falter. Her eyes drift closed and he kisses her forehead, unknowingly mirroring the movements of her other lover moments ago.

“My bear.” She melts into him as he caresses the nape of her neck.

Gale watches them from the other side of the room and begins to feel a twinge of something in his gut. They look so happy and he can’t help but notice the way their bodies fit so well together and how natural their every movement looks. He sighs, lost in thought as his mind begins to drift toward the pattern of worry that had plagued him earlier. He’s sure that he wants to do this – wants to give Tav and Halsin a chance to let their intimacy blossom – but he can’t stop the complicated feelings swirling through him like smoke from smoldering embers.

Gale moves past them to make himself comfortable in the overstuffed armchair across from the bed. His arms rest awkwardly at his sides as he watches Halsin’s mouth cover Tav’s. She groans into the kiss, pressing herself firmly into the elf’s hold. Gale’s stirring anxieties and jealousies are interrupted by the slightest twitch of interest from his cock when he sees Halsin’s large hand spread across her ass and press her pelvis into his.

When Tav pulls away from the kiss, eyelids heavy and cheeks flushed, she lets out a deep sigh. The look of longing on Halsin's face is intoxicating and she can't believe that it's for her. She smiles up at him, arousal stirring deep within her. Before she gets lost in him, she knows she must check in with her wizard.

She pats Halsin’s chest once before setting her sights on Gale, biting her lip in an attempt to stop her from overthinking. Crawling into Gale’s lap, she puts her knees on either side of his hips and drapes her arms around his neck. Her eyes bounce back and forth between his before dotting a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Are you sure that you want this?” she asks. She can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek. “There's still time to change your mind.”

The nervousness on his face softens a bit as he does his best to read the look his partner is giving him. “I do want this, Tav. I want you to have fun.” He smiles.

“I want you to enjoy it too, though.” She twirls a strand of his hair around her finger as she scans his face for signs of discomfort.

“I will. I get to watch two of my favorite people get lost in each other in a way they haven't before.” His hands rest against her ribs, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of her shirt in reassurance.

As she leans in close, her breath tickling the shell of his ear, he can’t resist moving his hands down to settle on her hips.

“Are you sure you just want to watch?” She nips at his earlobe and his fingers reflexively dig into her sides. She grins when she feels him begin to harden against her inner thigh, and Gale swallows heavily but nods.

“For now, yes.” She pulls back just far enough to catch his gaze and strokes her thumb across his cheekbone. He does his best to convey sincerity in his smile, his gaze refusing to waver.

“If at any point you change your mind, don’t hesitate to jump in.” She smirks. Tav scrapes her fingernails along the stubble of his beard on the underside of his jaw as she stands up, reveling in the blown pupils that stare up at her. She feels a hand snake around her waist and warmth envelop her as Halsin steps up behind her. He sets his chin on Tav’s shoulder and gazes down at the other man with a look that Gale can't quite place.

“Yes, please join in the fun if you feel at all inclined.” Halsin’s low, husky tone sends a shiver through Tav and to her core, but Gale feels it too. He can’t deny the way the sensual quality of Halsin’s voice affects him. Gale's eyes shift between their eager faces, and he nods.

“I certainly will, should the desire arise.” His smile is soft and genuine despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. Gale places his hand over Halsin’s on Tav’s hip and the two men share an understanding and intimate look.

Halsin pulls Tav back against him and begins peppering open-mouthed kisses all over her neck and shoulder. She strokes her thumb lovingly over the back of Gale’s hand as she feels herself melt into the elf’s hold. Arousal already blooming in her center, she spins in his arms and tangles her fingers into Halsin’s luscious locks. She crashes her lips against his with force. He takes short steps backwards toward the bed, dragging Tav along with him, his long fingers splayed across her lower back. Tav moans as she feels Halsin’s erection growing harder, chasing his pelvis with hers. He plops down onto the bed and pulls her immediately into his lap.

Gale’s eyes flit over the two of them and to each spot where their bodies touch, his mind attempting to process and catalogue all of the thoughts and sensations that run through him. Just moments ago, it had been his lap that she ground herself into. He could still feel the lingering warmth of her where she had pressed herself into him, and his fingers flex in response as if grabbing onto her. Watching Halsin’s mouth latch onto her throat, Gale groans at the sound that escapes her lips. His cock is more insistently calling for his attention, but he wants to wait until his head is on straight before addressing it.

Halsin pulls Tav’s top over her head and growls at the sight of her bare breasts hanging heavily in front of his face. His teeth skate across the skin of her chest and he sucks a nipple into his mouth, causing her to throw her head back in pleasure. Gale’s eyes darken as Halsin kneads her other breast roughly and she drags her clothed core over the large bulge in the front of his pants.

After a few moments of heavy petting, Halsin suddenly stands up, forcing Tav upright with him, and turns them around so that he can push her backwards onto the bed. She lays back and watches him through her lashes as he undoes the laces on her bottoms and pulls them off of her. Gale can’t help but groan as he sees her wetness glistening deliciously in the dim light when her thighs drift apart for the elf.

“My dear magic man, I have no idea how you ever leave that tower of yours when you have a woman this delectable in your bed.” Tav’s breath catches in her throat as Halsin gently caresses her bare thighs with his calloused fingers. He kneads the soft, supple skin there, licking his lips at the sight of her spread out before him. Eager to feel her skin against his, Halsin strips himself bare without much fanfare. Before he does anything more, he turns to address the man across the room: “What do you think, Gale, should I give her my tongue or my fingers first?”

Another groan escapes Gale’s lips and he presses the heel of his hand down into his growing erection, trying to relieve some of the tension and overcome the arousal that threatens to overtake him. “She prefers– t-tongue,” he answers, his voice nearly failing him.

When Halsin suddenly drops to his knees at the end of the bed, pulls Tav to the edge, and slides his tongue through her folds from hole to clit, Gale stops fighting the temptation and shoves his hand in his trousers to wrap around his needy cock. He knows how sweet she tastes and finds he loves getting to watch Halsin finally experience what he's long fantasized about.

Tav gasps at the immense pleasure of her lover’s practiced tongue as Halsin continues to work her over. He presses his face into her cunt like he'll never be able to get enough and sucks her clit into his mouth. It feels so good that she could pen sonnets, if only her brain were able to form words.

Her breaths come shallow and quick as he flicks the tip of his tongue over her sensitive bud, and Gale’s fist tightens painfully around his cock, still resisting the urge to stroke himself. He had expected it to eat him alive to see the love of his life squirming in pleasure on someone else's tongue, but he finds that he relishes taking notice of all of Tav’s subtle, delicious reactions to the way Halsin devours her.

Halsin hums and looks up at Tav from between her legs. Her eyelids are heavy and her mouth hangs open, unable to focus on anything but the delectable onslaught between her thighs. “How’s our wizard doing?” he asks her as his pointer finger teases around her slick entrance. He continues to lap at her wetness with his flattened tongue, but his eyes are watching her face. Her head lolls to the side, she looks over at Gale, and her breath catches at the sight of him.

Gale’s face is flushed, redness spread across his cheekbones, and his jaw is clenched. While one hand is shoved deep into his pants, shaking as he tries to hold back from pleasing himself, the other is balled up tightly against his thigh. He looks like he's halfway to being drunk but still wound so tight that he could easily snap.

“Good,” Gale answers before Tav can, his voice tight. Halsin glances his way and finally notices the way Gale is restraining himself. While holding eye contact with the other man, Halsin thrusts two fingers into Tav in one quick, smooth motion. Gale sees her body tense at the surprise of the pleasant intrusion and a shudder runs through him.

“You like what you see?” the druid asks, cocking an eyebrow. Gale nods and pink flushes up his neck and to his ears. Halsin flashes him a smile. “You don't have to hold back, you know.” Gale looks between them, assessing. “Even if you don't join us physically, we want you to be a part of things.” Gale is so turned on but his skin prickles with self-consciousness as their attention is directed at him. Tav props herself up on her elbows to get a better look while Halsin continues to stretch her open with his thick digits.

“Can I at least see what you're doing over there, my love?” Her mouth is agape from the pleasure coursing through her. Her words paired with the blissed-out, eager look on her face is enough to give Gale the confidence he needs to make himself more comfortable.

Tav watches, enraptured, as he stands from the chair and begins to remove his clothes. Despite his shyness, with two gorgeous sets of eyes on him, he takes his sweet time unbuttoning his shirt. The way neither of them can take their eyes off of every sliver of skin he reveals has him feeling powerful in ways he never expected.

As the fabric of his shirt pools on the floor at his feet, his fingers move to the laces on the front of his trousers. After they're unlaced, he slips his thumbs into the waistband and pauses as if considering his next move. Tav licks her lips in anticipation and Gale shoots her a small smirk before shucking them off in one motion. His aching cock springs free and stands at attention, though he suddenly feels a bit vulnerable and overexposed.

Tav notices the shift in his expression and sits up, ready to go to him, but Halsin speaks first. “Oak Father preserve me…” he sighs. “Aren't you a sight to behold?” Gale blushes at the praise and Tav settles back again, smiling at the way a flush of pink blooms through his chest. “Will you come over here so I can get a better look at you?”

Gale nods shyly and takes a few steps to approach where Halsin is crouched next to the bed. His eyes scan the scene before him: the light sheen of sweat glimmering on Halsin's skin, the slick wetness covering the fingers of his right hand where they pump in and out of Tav, and the thick heavy cock that juts out between Halsin's tree trunk thighs.

Gale's never been with a man before, but he thinks that if he'd met more men like Halsin, that may not have been the case. He salivates wondering what it might taste like to have the druid on his tongue. Would he be sweet and tangy like Tav? Wet and earthy like the forest after a rain shower? He longs to find out but isn't quite sure if he's ready yet. Feeling brave, he reaches out to brush a sweaty piece of hair off Halsin's forehead and the larger man brushes a kiss against the inside of Gale's wrist.

Gale turns his head toward Tav in an attempt to hide his blush from the man who caused it. She gives him a soft, encouraging smile but he's distracted by the continued movement of Halsin's fingers. Gale watches how they curl and rub inside of Tav and he reaches out to draw circles around her clit with his thumb.

“It's awfully difficult to look but not touch,” Gale explains, and Halsin chuckles.

“I know what you mean… Just look at the state of you.” Halsin nods to where Gale's cock twitches in delight, a bead of arousal escaping from the tip.

Gale feels like his brain short-circuits as it floods with images of the elf’s hands all over him. He wants it, wants it so bad he can hardly think of anything else, but the analytical side of his brain is whirring away, trying to figure out what it all means.

“You– you can touch me,” Gale whispers. Tav clenches around Halsin's fingers in anticipation and surprise, and she lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

“Are you sure, Gale? It's only enjoyable if you really want it.” Halsin looks up at the wizard and attempts to read the look on his face. Gale looks nervous and pent up beyond belief, and Halsin knows he has to be prepared for a sudden change of heart. He won't deny the man what he wants, he'll simply make the environment as comfortable and conducive to experimentation as he can.

“I want you to touch me.” Gale pulls his hand away from Tav and sets it on Halsin's shoulder for stability. Halsin nods with a smile.

Halsin scissors his fingers inside Tav to coat them in her slick before he pulls them out of her. Gale watches his every movement and his throat tightens as he sees Halsin's hand, covered in her juices, moving in his direction. His eyes grow wide as he realizes what Halsin is going to do right before Halsin wraps his lubricated hand around Gale's shaft.

The warmth and wetness is overwhelming and Gale goes rigid. It feels so good and yet so foreign to have Halsin's hand on him that he's worried he might explode. His eyes slam closed and his grip on the elf’s shoulder tightens until his fingernails threaten to break skin as Halsin slowly strokes Gale's cock.

But it's too much.

He isn't ready. He wants to backtrack.

Halsin immediately picks up on the shift in Gale's demeanor and pulls his hand away.

“I'm sorry, I–” Gale stammers and Halsin pats his hip in reassurance. Tav sits up and takes one of Gale's hands in hers.

“There is no need for apologies,” Halsin replies, “It was too much too fast.” Gale nods and refuses to look at either of them, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“We can stop,” Tav adds, pressing a kiss to Gale's palm. He jerks his head to look at her.

“No! No, don't stop. I merely bit off more than I could chew for a moment, but please continue. I only need a moment, and then I want to watch you unravel for him.” Gale's eyes darken as he looks between the other two and Halsin’s cock throbs at his words.

“Then let's take a moment to ground ourselves and breathe,” Halsin suggests. He rests one hand on Tav’s thigh and the other hangs at his side, wanting to comfort Gale but not wanting to overwhelm him.

Tav’s fingertips delicately trace over the lines traversing Gale's palm. Gale closes his eyes and focuses only on her calming touch and his breathing. His other hand still rests on Halsin's shoulder, giving him a sense of stability. He finds himself wanting a comforting touch from the elf as well, but doesn't trust his body's reaction to the sensation.

As the three of them sit in silence, a tangle of soft intimate touches, Gale's breathing begins to slow. He tunes out the worries and focuses on the connection that he feels between them. Opening his eyes, he catches Tav’s gaze and a soft smile tugs at his lips. His thumb rubs over Halsin's shoulder before he moves it to cradle Tav’s face. Gale presses his forehead to hers and they melt into each other for a moment.

“I love you,” Gale murmurs. His lips find hers for a soft, lingering kiss that manages to communicate a sense of both trust and longing.

“I love you,” Tav replies. Foreheads pressed together, they stare into each other's eyes for a moment and take it all in.

Gale presses his mouth to hers again, gentle and chaste, before he turns back to Halsin. “Show her just what a powerful archdruid is capable of.” He shoots the other man a wink, claps him on the back, and starts to pad over to his chair.

“As you wish,” Halsin growls and presses his face into the junction of Tav’s thighs. She yelps in surprise as his tongue plunges between her folds, and she grabs the elf’s hair for support. Halsin wastes no time shoving three fingers into her tight, dripping pussy and her hips jerk against his face. His assault is relentless and she knows she won't last long as he fills her with his fingers and worships her clit with his tongue.

Gale groans at the delightful sounds that spill from her throat as he watches Tav squirm. A loud squelching fills the room as Halsin fucks her with his thick fingers. She's babbling, hardly able to string coherent sounds together, as the nerves throughout her body thrum with pleasure. As he alternates between open-mouthed kisses to her vulva and his tongue frantically flicking over her aching clit, he curls his fingers back toward himself inside her to rub harshly over the spot that makes her see stars. Her knees nearly give out as the dam suddenly breaks and she's coming.

A broken sob escapes from Tav as her whole body curls inward and her walls spasm around Halsin's fingers. Her juices spill over his chin and his hand and he just can't get enough. She's so wet and so sweet that it may as well be honey that gushes over his tongue as he laps up everything she gives him.

Gale's cock leaks as he watches the larger man nearly drown in the ecstasy that flows from Tav, and he digs his fingertips into the arms of the chair in an attempt to maintain his composure. As much as he wants to touch and be touched, he finds he takes immense pleasure in watching her fall apart. His favorite part of being intimate with Tav is getting to witness the way her composure crumbles when she's reached a certain point. In most areas of her life, she's so put together and eloquent that it's a special privilege to see her in such a raw state when she's hardly more than a babbling mess.

The sounds Halsin makes are animalistic as he works Tav through her climax. He's so engulfed in her that he thinks he'd crawl inside her if he could, just to feel her over every inch of him. When she gets too sensitive to handle his mouth on her anymore, she tugs on his hair to drag him back up to his feet. Immediately, his mouth is on hers as he guides her back toward the bed.

Something in Halsin has snapped and his gentle, loving caresses have been replaced with raw, primal need. Tasting herself on his lips and tongue does something similar to Tav and her hands are everywhere, needing to map every inch of him.

She pants hard, trying to catch her breath from an intense orgasm, as his body covers hers on the bed. His fingers tangle in her hair and he grips tightly, desperate to hold her close. His mouth moves from her lips to her jaw to her neck, kissing and sucking at every spot of skin in his reach. Her fingertips dig into his back, trying impossibly to bring him closer to her. She needs to touch him, taste him, feel him, but it's not enough.

Tav reaches between Halsin's legs and wraps her hand around his aching cock. Halsin growls at the sensation, his face buried in her neck. His hips thrust forward on their own accord, seeking more as she grips him and slides her soft palm over his sensitive shaft.

“Need to be inside you,” Halsin grunts, his careful composure gone for the moment.

“Please,” Tav whines, begging for him to fill her.

Gale spits into his hand, deciding that he'll give in and stroke himself at the moment Halsin's beautiful cock sinks into the tight wetness of Tav’s pussy.

Tav moves to guide Halsin to her center but she doesn't move fast enough for the desperate elf, so he reaches between them to grip himself tightly and line himself up with her hole, coating the head in her slick. He looks into her eyes, about to ask for confirmation, but she nods frantically and wraps her legs around the backs of his thighs, drawing him in.

The world melts around Halsin for a moment as he plunges into the depths of pleasure. Her warm wetness engulfs him and his senses, blocking out any coherent thought. Driven by primal instinct, he begins to thrust into her hard and fast.

Gale grips his desperate cock and imagines that it's Tav’s cunt squeezing him rather than his own spit-soaked hand. He matches his strokes to the rhythm of Halsin's thrusts and it feels like a thunderstorm is brewing under his skin. He watches the giant elf’s broad, sweaty body as his thick cock impales the woman Gale loves. All uncertainty leaves him when he sees the look of ecstasy and desperation on her face – Gale knows what she needs and he revels in the gasps and whimpers she makes as she gets it.

Tav grips Halsin’s hair in a tight fist, digs the fingernails of her left hand into the meat of his tricep, and cries out at the slight sting and immense pleasure of her overfilled cunt taking everything it’s given. She’s chanting fuck , and please , and yes over and over as Halsin pounds into her.

He’s so close, unable to handle much more as his nerves crackle at the energy between them. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear the blood rushing in his ears alongside the sound of flesh striking flesh and the wet suction of Tav’s cunt trying to hold him deep inside.

Between heavy breaths, Halsin groans, “Gonna come – Where?” Gale’s hand is moving frantically up and down his cock, adding his own slapping sounds to the mix, as he hurtles toward his own climax. He can't stop watching the way Halsin's length disappears inside her as her walls grip him.

“Inside me!” Tav cries out and the desperate desire in her voice pushes both Gale and Halsin over the edge. Halsin shoves himself as deep into her depths as he can, and he paints her insides with his seed. At the same moment, Gale’s balls tighten and his hand stills as ropes of come spurt from his cock to paint his abdomen.

The sensation of Halsin’s cock pulsing and filling her sends Tav into her second climax as she spasms dramatically around him. Her cunt squeezes him tight, milking every drop it can get from him. Tav’s thighs quiver and her body shakes under him as the waves of pleasure course through her and come out of her mouth as wanton moans.

Gale's head drops back against the back of the chair as he tries to catch his breath. He holds his slowly-softening manhood and tries not to think about the mess he's made of his lap.

Halsin peppers kisses all over Tav’s face and chest as she comes down from her high, and once she catches her breath, she loosens her grip on his hair and kisses him passionately. They're both sweaty and flushed and a bit sore, but they're lost in each other for a short while. She pushes back the hair plastered to Halsin's forehead and he looks at her with such love and adoration that her heart could burst. After a few long moments drinking each other in, Halsin looks over at Gale before turning back to Tav.

“Let me go check on Gale, my heart.” The druid strokes her cheek and places a quick kiss to the corner of her dopey smile. She nods and allows her limbs to fall to the bed like dead weight, letting the normal sensations slowly return back to her body.

Gale lifts his head and watches as Halsin pulls out of her with a wince and stands. He looks at Gale with softness and a touch of mischief in his eyes as he approaches. Halsin stands over the other man and assesses the scene in front of him: his flushed cheeks, his chest glistening with sweat, the sticky mess clinging to his skin.

Gale's cheeks burn as he mistakes the look in Halsin's eyes for judgment rather than interest. “I seem to have made a bit of a mess of myself,” he tells the elf with a self-conscious chuckle.

“That you have,” Halsin hums. “Is that why you blush, handsome wizard?” Gale looks down at the floor, avoiding Halsin's gaze. There are so many thoughts and feelings going through his head and he can’t quite grasp how to process or articulate them. Halsin puts a finger under Gale's chin and tips his face so that he looks up at him. “Are you embarrassed to have enjoyed yourself?” Gale swallows heavily.

Tav is tempted to listen to their conversation but stays out of it, happily giving them as much privacy as she can without moving. Her eyelids are getting heavy, and she can feel sleep call to her.

“Perhaps.” Gale's voice is quiet and he picks at a loose thread on the arm of the chair.

“Oh, Gale,” Halsin says. “You don't have anything to be embarrassed about.” This gets Gale to look up to him, though he looks incredulous.

“Don't I? Aren't I supposed to feel possessive over my partner? What kind of man am I to get pleasure from watching her be taken and claimed by another? Shouldn't I feel discomfort? Shouldn’t I want to intervene?” His mind is racing and the words are spilling out before he can filter them. Insecurities from his past begin to bubble up and, though he tries, he can’t cast them aside anymore.

Halsin smiles gently. “It would seem that you're the kind of man who enjoys seeing your love be happy and fulfilled. Did you feel discomfort?”

Gale pauses before answering, carefully considering and taking inventory of his mind. “I did feel discomfort at first, when I was thinking about it. I was worried about how I’d react once things started happening. I know that no matter how much you mentally prepare for something, you can never truly know what you’ll do until you’re in the situation. However, once you were here and it was real, I felt much calmer. I couldn’t help but to get aroused and that overrode my thinking, which allowed me to enjoy the experience and lean into the pleasure.” Halsin mulls over Gale’s words, contemplating their meaning. He knows that ultimately, Gale’s philosophies and morals come from very different sources from his own, and he takes that into consideration as he ponders how to frame his response.

“I believe that nature itself gave us the capability to be complex and ever-changing beings, and that includes every facet of our sexuality. Whether we’re monogamous or opposed to it, or somewhere in between, is deeply personal and potentially dynamic. It’s natural to fall anywhere on that spectrum, and it’s natural for your needs and wants to shift based on circumstances. If you enjoyed yourself, and everyone involved both fully consented and enjoyed themselves, why should there be shame? What purpose would that shame serve?”

Gale sits in silence for a moment as he processes. He thinks deeply, his thoughts branching off into a thousand different directions as he tries to break it down like any other intellectual endeavor. Some parts are quick to click into place in his mind, while others are more difficult to understand and internalize. “I can concede that you make some very good points, but I have to wonder about others. In the past, with Mystra, she sought other lovers and I did not enjoy that in the slightest. Why would that be different now? Could the difference be that I somehow love Tav less than I did Mystra? That I feel less afraid to lose her and thus am less emotionally reactive?”

Halsin can’t help but chuckle that someone with such an immense breadth of knowledge can be so disconnected from the inner workings of his own mind. “Oh, Gale. You wizards certainly do enjoy overcomplicating things, don't you? Could it not instead mean that you’re less afraid to lose her because you feel secure in your relationship with Tav, whereas with Mystra you did not?”

Gale ponders that, his mind running through the different instances when Mystra found pleasure in the arms of another and comparing them to the instances when he'd discussed the same with Tav. “With Mystra, it wasn't a conversation or a choice. She told me that was how it was going to be and who was I to argue with my goddess? Her word was final and if I wanted to be with her, I had to find a way to deal with her decisions on my own–”

“I think you know that's not how a partnership is meant to be.” Halsin’s response is curt and leaves little room for argument, which manages to trigger Gale’s deep-seeded reflex to defend Mystra. He stops himself, however, as he recognizes what is happening and it surprises him.

“I suppose intellectually, I do.” Gale sighs and continues, “Things with Mystra were also different in that I was not allowed the same courtesy. While I may not have wanted to be with anyone other than her, the fact of the matter is that I would have never been allowed to be. That is, as you’re well aware, not the case with Tav.”

“Indeed, and I think those differences are enough to make this an entirely different situation. Do you?”

Gale takes in Halsin’s words and the comforting, understanding look in his eyes, and he nods. He respects the druid’s judgment, knowing it comes from many years of experience. The way he’s explained it allows the rational side of Gale’s brain to connect with the emotional side. Halsin knows what he’s talking about.

“Is there someone else you'd like to be with now, Gale?” Halsin asks tentatively.

Gale sucks in a sharp breath and looks back up at Halsin. He’s somehow surprised that the conversation has taken this turn and, despite everything he’s just bared to the other man, he tries to steel himself against the impulse to hide or deflect. He shies away from the feeling of Halsin gazing into his soul and closes his eyes before answering, “I– I’d like to be with you, Halsin. Or at least give it a try.”

The room is silent for a moment and Gale opens his eyes again. A soft smile spreads across the druid’s face in response as he takes in how open and exposed the wizard looks. Not even taking into account the fact that he’s sitting naked in front of him, the look on Gale's face is one of pure vulnerability. It’s clear that it’s not easy for him to put himself out there like this.

“I had hoped you'd say that, Gale Dekarios.” Halsin caresses the stubble on Gale's jawline with his thumb, basking in the way his eyes sparkle as he looks up at the taller man.

“You did?” Gale’s voice sounds surprised.

“Of course I did,” Halsin chuckles. He crouches down to bring himself to Gale’s level, at least physically, and gazes intently into the man's eyes. “I may have to question your wisdom if you claim to be unaware of my attraction to you.”

Gale can’t help but laugh, blushing furiously but thankful that the other man has lightened the moment. His gentle teasing breaks the tension, much like when Tav does the same. “I suppose I can admit that I've noticed some signals from you.” He glances away, feeling exposed in the intensity of Halsin's gaze, before continuing, “In my defense, you are such an open, comfortable, and confident man that it can be difficult to discern what is genuine interest and what is just you being, well, you.”

He reaches out to touch the larger man but hesitates as he isn’t sure where to start. When Halsin grins, Gale brushes the tip of his thumb over his bottom lip, marveling at how it feels to touch him while the broad elf looks at him with adoration and hunger. His lip is soft and plush, and Gale wants to feel it everywhere. Halsin purses his lips and kisses the pad of Gale’s thumb, causing the human’s breath to catch in his throat. “Kiss me,” Gale whispers.

Of course, Halsin immediately obliges. Before the words are fully out of his mouth, Halsin runs his fingers through Gale's soft waves and presses his palm against the back of his head. Halsin gently guides Gale's face toward his, slow enough to give him plenty of chances to change his mind and pull away, and presses his lips against the lips of the younger man.

Gale kisses him back sweetly and then not-so-sweetly, as his mouth drifts open to allow Halsin to deepen the kiss. His tongue slips over Gale's tongue, massaging the strong muscle. Gale tastes Tav’s juices on Halsin's tongue and it stirs something in him. His hands begin scrabbling for purchase, desperate to get a good grip and pull the elf closer, nearly dragging Halsin into his lap. He hungers for him, eager to explore every nook and cranny of Halsin's mouth with his tongue.

Gale's breathing is ragged as the two men get lost in each other. They move to stand to get closer to one another, and Gale shudders at the way Halsin's hand nearly dwarfs his face when it cups his jaw. The smaller man's fingertips dig into the elf's thick biceps as he fails to resist grinding their hips together.

Halsin's pupils are blown wide as he takes in the uncharacteristic neediness of the wizard. He wants so badly to make the less experienced man feel good, so he slides down to his knees and gazes up at Gale.

Gale lets out another shuddering breath as he attempts to process the scene in front of him: he's seen Tav in this position countless times and it never gets old, but the novelty of seeing a powerful archdruid on his knees for him is nearly overwhelming.

“May I?” Halsin asks softly after what feels like ages. Unable to trust his voice, Gale meekly nods.

Halsin runs his hands up Gale's thighs, callused fingers catching on the soft hair there, and places a single kiss on Gale's pelvic crest. He looks up at the brunette to gauge his reaction and the reverent look on his face encourages Halsin to continue. He leaves gentle pecks across Gale's soft belly, undeterred by the partially-dry spendings that coat his skin. Halsin drags his tongue across a particularly bountiful river of Gale’s spend before sucking it into his mouth, delighting in the taste of his essence. He continues to suck at the skin there, leaving a mark on the flesh, just a hair west of where Gale needs his mouth the most. Gale’s wound so tightly that Halsin can feel the tension where he touches him as he continues to place teasing kisses across the wizard’s navel and groin.

“Please,” Gale whines and Halsin’s cock jumps at the sound. The elf’s mouth hovers over the other man’s length, his hot breath caressing Gale’s hardness. The man’s hands rest on Halsin’s shoulders but clench into fists as he tries to resist pulling Halsin’s face closer.

Prolonging the torture, Halsin’s hands dance across Gale’s skin until they settle over his hips. Halsin locks eyes with Gale, smirking, and just as the desperate man is about to beg him to do something, anything , he slips Gale’s aching cock into his mouth in one fluid motion. The tension in Gale’s muscles doubles as his senses are overloaded with pleasure. Halsin’s mouth is hot and wet as he sucks Gale down until his nose is pressed into Gale’s coarse brown curls. The wizard’s legs nearly give out as his body begins to relax in response to the chorus of wondrous sensations.

Gale lets out a stream of curses under his breath as Halsin’s mouth begins to move over him. His tongue slides along the underside of Gale’s cock and the less experienced man can’t help but tangle his fingers into the druid’s long hair. He begins babbling, narrating the sensations he’s feeling and heaping praise onto the kneeling man, when he sees Tav stir out of the corner of his eye. Not wanting to wake her, he digs his front teeth into his lip to keep his voice at bay, but the monologue of nonsense continues to run through his head.

Halsin bobs his head, licking and sucking Gale like a man starved, and Gale’s hips begin moving on their own accord. He takes everything Gale is willing to give him as he works the wizard over, and he doesn’t even flinch when Gale suddenly thrusts forward, tenses, and spurts come down his throat. The elf slows his movements, greedily swallowing every drop that the other man releases and working Gale through his peak.

As Gale becomes to sensitive to handle the sensation anymore, Halsin pulls his mouth off of him but otherwise makes no attempt to move from his position. Gale breathes deeply, grounding himself by running his fingers through the druid’s soft yet tangled hair. Halsin moves to stand, caressing Gale’s sides as he does so. The room quiet around them, they stand in comfortable silence for a few moments and just breathe. Gale’s fingers are still in Halsin’s hair, Halsin’s hands rest on Gale’s hips as if stabilizing him, and they gaze into each other’s eyes. Gale doesn’t know what to say, simultaneously wanting to process everything and not wanting his mind to drift away from the current moment.

“I think it’s time to get some rest,” Halsin suggests.

“But what about you? Do you want me to return the favor?” Gale asks, his mind suddenly trying to fill in his understanding of the expected etiquette of the situation. Halsin chuckles and strokes the wizard’s cheek.

“We can save that for next time. Right now, I think Tav’s got the right idea.” They both glance over to where she lays, nude and sprawled across the bed, only one leg under the covers. An adoring smile creeps over Gale’s face as he watches her shift in her sleep. He turns back to Halsin and his eyes flit over the elf’s face, carefully cataloging every freckle, dimple, and wrinkle.

“Let me get cleaned up and then I’ll join you two,” Gale says, tipping his head in the direction of the bed.

“Will you stay?” Gale’s voice is quiet, but no longer shrouded in uncertainty. Halsin brings his hands up to the wizard’s face and smiles.

“I’d like that.” Halsin presses a gentle kiss to the other man’s lips, and Gale’s surprised at how natural it feels. Gale knows that at some point, likely the next day, his mind will take over and need to analyze every aspect of the situation, but for the moment, he feels safe and desired and loved.

Halsin smiles and caresses Gale's jaw with his thumbs. “Take your time, we’ll make sure there’s room for you.”

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