@cciessuzi. she/her. iced chai tea lattes. weirdcore. horror. digicams. soft glam. silver jewelry. silly skirts. polaroids. thursday afternoons. written by mitski. fluffy blankets. coconut candles. love notes. picnics. history. djo's girl. fresh avocado. cute charms. sabrina carpenter's honey. playlists on repeat. lace tops. cozy cafés. daydreaming.
about thinker bell: djobrina enthusiast, 9teen, she/her, aquarius, ive watched everything and will watch anything, first time writing .. yikes, idk what else to put here
page heavily inspired by @oohgeminii !!
MDNI | PLEASE HAVE UR AGE ON DISPLAY !!
navigation ( link for taglist will be added .. one day)
- blog rules / info
- masterlist
- my wattpad
- 100 follower special — man’s best friend ft. jkcu ! (ongoing)
future dividers linked in tags of this pinned post! please dm me if i happen to forget to include creds for a divider on a post!! + some will be tagged in posts !
i do not condone ai usage or use ai for any of my works. i do not consent to having my work fed to ai. all my work is inspired by other writers on this app & my own way of speaking irl and 100 percent written myself.
・❥・The first time you and Chase had sex while his commando app was active was kind of an accident
・❥・Spike wanted his girl, and you were all too happy to oblige. Next thing he knows, he's got you bent over a table, cumming into you
・❥・His commando app is fueled by the arousal, but as soon as he comes undone the flood of hormones shuts down the app. Safe to say that was a shock the first time it happened
・❥・It was quickly decided that this was actually the best way to handle Spike, as his aggression was never directed towards you, and it was a sure-fire way to disable the app
・❥・That doesn't mean it isn't still a little jarring for him. He has the faintest idea that something is triggering his bionics, then the next thing he can remember is spilling into you
・❥・But to his surprise, the shock just adds another layer of pleasure
・❥・One second, he's manhandling you with your arms held behind your back, the next he's letting out loud whimpering moans, his whole body shaking as he collapses on top of you
・❥・And Spike is often much different from Chase's usual. He's rough, and even a little mean, but something about it never fails get you striping
・❥・He always seems stuck between grabbing you harder, and gently kissing your exposed skin. It's like even when he isn't in control of himself, he still can't help singing your praises
・❥・It turns out, his commando app may actually have some good uses after all
I would love if you could do a Chase Davenport x reader where the team is on a mission and part of it involves keeping the reader safe in a room somewhere and the whole time that Chase is trying to lead the mission the reader is flirting with him and making him all flustered bc she thinks it’s cute when the very serious smartest man in the world stumbles over his words
The President's Daughter (Chase Davenport X Reader)
Masterlist
Request Something!
Summary: The Lab Rats have a new mission: keep the president’s daughter safe until the people threatening her life have been taken care of. But Chase’s job gets a bit more difficult when you keep trying to flirt with him.
A/N: au where the president is actually a pretty chill guy and not a literal monster. Kinda spoiled/party girl reader. Kind of a white chicks vibe but instead of impersonating you, the lab rats kinda have to follow you around like bodyguards/babysitters. Feel like i kinda strayed from the request but idk, i was feeling a certain vibe when writing this and that vibe is bodyguard!chase x rich girl!reader. Characters are legal age. A lil nsfw but nothing really explicit
***
As soon as Donald had gotten the call, the Lab Rats were suited up and packing their gear, ready for the jet coming to the bionic island to pick them up. Apparently, they were dealing with a matter of national security. Although the issue was probably very serious, they were excited to have a mission with such importance and status.
But when the mission was explained more in-depth, a part of them wanted to turn the jet around.
“Babysitting?” Chase asked with an incredulous tone, flipping through the file that he and all his teammates were given. It was mainly a profile of the president’s daughter, who had recently been getting threats from an unknown group. Sure, Chase knew she didn’t deserve those threats. But he was still a bit bitter about the fact that he was assigned to watch you instead of finding the mystery perpetrators.
“You’re doing surveillance, Chase.” Davenport corrected. “You guys need to keep a close eye on this girl and make sure that nothing happens to her until we find out who’s been sending the threats.”
Chase scoffed. “Glorified babysitting, then.” He closed the manila folder and tossed it on the small table in front of him.
“Oh, come on, Chase. It can’t be that bad.” Bree said, still looking at the girl’s profile. However, she was more focused on the pictures than the words. “Ooh! That top’s cute. I wonder if we’re the same size…”
“The top’s not the only cute thing.” Leo pointed out, looking over Bree’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, Chase, but I consider being around a total babe a good thing.”
Adam laughed. “Chase wouldn’t know anything about that. He’s too nerdy. ‘Oh, hi, I’m Chase. I can’t talk to girls, I’mtoo busy… doing… nerd stuff.’” Adam’s half-hearted impression of his brother got some eye-rolls and light laughs from the group. “Even if he tried, she wouldn’t go for him. She’d rather be with a real man.” The eldest Davenport smirked while flexing his arms. Chase scowled.
“Not that it matters, but she would totally choose me over you.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you guys are supposed to watch her, not flirt with her,” Davenport interjected, settling the argument.
But just because the Lab Rats couldn’t flirt with you didn’t mean that you couldn’t flirt with any of them. The second you were introduced, you had your sights on Chase. He was so assertive, or at least he tried to be. His siblings didn’t seem to like listening to him much, but that didn’t stop him from putting on an authoritative persona.
“Chase Davenport.” He had said while firmly shaking your hand. “Mission leader. We’ll do our best to keep you safe and comfortable, Miss L/n.”
You grinned, inching closer to the man as you scanned him over. Decent build, handsome face, looks good in spandex, all good qualities to look for in a man.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable, Mr. Davenport.”
Chase let out a laugh of surprise, but tried to seem polite. He could already sense that this was going to be a long mission.
***
And a long mission it was indeed. Three weeks and there were no leads, suspects, or anything else that could put an end to the threatening messages you were receiving. And if it was having any sort of negative effect on you, which it seriously should, you certainly didn’t show it. You were too busy going out shopping with friends and going to clubs. All the things you were advised not to do.
For some reason, Chase was the only one who could see the problem with this. Then again, he was usually the only one to take his job seriously.
“You need to relax!” You giggled, nearly shouting over the club beats in poor Chase’s supersonic ear. He had been protesting your actions all day, but it seemed to only encourage you. “Come dance with us!”
“No thanks.” He sneered, looking past you to see his siblings scattered in the crowd. He couldn’t believe how irresponsible they were being. “You all may have forgotten, but you’re supposed to be supervised at all times.”
You huffed, pouting at the man staring down at you. But an idea sprung to mind and you soon smirked, deciding to gulp down the rest of your drink before responding.
“You can keep a better eye on me on the dance floor.”
Chase took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond. He had a job to do, he was supposed to be the responsible one.
But he would be lying if he said that the way you were looking up at him right now didn’t make the crotch of his pants feel a bit tighter.
You soon decided that you didn’t want to wait for an answer. In an act of tipsy bravery, you intertwined your fingers with Chase’s and pulled him away from the table where he stationed himself. With every step, Chase yelled at himself that this was a bad idea. He should pull back, drag you all the way home, and lock you in your room so you couldn’t get into any more trouble. Letting you convince him to let you go out tonight was the dumbest decision he’s made in a while.
But then you started swaying your hips, pulling Chase’s front to your back and guiding his hands to your hips. This shouldn’t be happening, but deep down, Chase doesn’t want it to stop.
“Is this okay?” You asked loudly over the music, looking over your shoulder at him. You leaned close to his face, blinking seductively. “Mr. Davenport?”
“Yeah.” Chase choked out, gripping your hips to guide your movements. You grinned, turning forward to continue dancing.
After that night, Chase became even more vigilant about your safety and whereabouts. But you both knew it was no longer just because of his mission.
helloo… ur acc seems so aesthetic omg i trust u with writing for chase. do u think u could write something small about him coming untouched while u two r making out?
── .✦ chase vs his struggle to control himself…
pairing: chase davenport x fem!reader
warnings: 18+ mdni, sexual content, makeout, ejaculation
note: thank you for the compliments bb, hope i did your idea justice <3
his lips are so soft it’s stupid.
you’re curled over him on the penthouse couch, knees bracketing his thighs, your fingers tugging gently at the soft hair at the back of his neck. his mouth is hot and hungry against yours, and chase davenport kisses like a man trying to compute pleasure in real time — slow at first, strategic, a little hesitant, until he overloads and melts into you like he’s never been kissed before (which, before you, he hadn’t been).
you feel his hands drift, trying to stay polite, pressed into the small of your back like he’s holding on for dear life. but you shift forward just a little, enough to press flush against him, and that’s all it takes, his fingers flex, digging into your waist.
he gasps into your mouth.
“you okay?” you murmur, lips barely brushing his.
he nods too fast. “yeah. yes. fine. totally fine.”
he is absolutely not fine.
there’s a visible tremor in his thighs beneath you, and you’re not oblivious — you can feel how hard he is through his joggers, how he’s been tense from the second you climbed into his lap, how he keeps trying not to rut up against you like his whole body’s fighting itself.
your hips roll slow and sweet, just once, and he breaks the kiss entirely, dropping his head back with a choked breath.
“chase,” you whisper against his lips, voice full of mock concern. “you’re shaking.”
“don’t,” he says quickly, eyes screwed shut. “don’t move. please.”
you freeze, and then you feel it.
he tenses under you, a shudder running through his whole body like he’s being electrocuted from the inside out. his jaw clenches, lips parted in a soft, desperate moan, and his hands tighten around your waist like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment.
then he goes still. dead still.
your lips part, confused for a second until it. the slight wetness on his pants, the way his breath is coming in shallow, humiliated little gasps as he buries his face in your neck like he can hide from what just happened. he looks wrecked, like you short-circuited something in his perfect little supercomputer brain.
“oh my god,” you whisper, more stunned than anything. “chase… did you just…?”
he doesn’t answer right away. just swallows thickly and nods against your shoulder.
“you came?” you ask again, just to be sure. “without even—?”
“i didn’t mean to,” he gasps, eyes fluttering shut, the heat blooming down his neck giving him away completely. “you were just— you were kissing me. you were on top of me. i couldn’t— i tried to hold it, i swear…”
you can’t help it. you giggle. a soft, breathless, delighted little sound that makes him whimper.
you grin, leaning down to brush your mouth against his jaw. “you’re so easy, baby.”
“don’t say it like that,” he mutters, face burning so hot it’s radiating. “i’m literally never recovering from this.”
you press your lips to his ear. “that’s okay, sweetheart.”
he shudders again and you sit up just slightly, tilting his chin to meet your gaze. his eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide, skin flushed all the way down his neck.
“next time,” you murmur, smiling sweetly, “you’re gonna wait for me.”
reminder that reblogs, feedback, and comments keep me motivated and make me smile ‹𝟹
࿓ Summary: Growing up, you and Steve were inseparable. You were his darling his little sister who followed him around like he was the sun. Steve made sure he did his best to protect you at all costs. Which meant disappearing from the house while fighting monsters, leaving you at the mercy of your absent parents. Resentment began to build as you noticed the growing relationship Steve had with a boy your age. You watched as they ran off on adventures together, and Steve's care for Dustin outgrew his care for you. And Steve watched you somehow manage to capture the attention and care of your parents. And as you grew, so did the resentment, building up deep in both of your bones, leaving the your relationship with your brother in ruins.
࿓ CW: Sibling angst, resentment, they both have what the other wants, fighting, drinking, smoking, they are both stubborn af, Sibling!reader, you're the same age as Dustin
࿓ A/N: Do we like? also possible dustin x reader??? PART 2 IS OTW
࿓ WC: 4.7k
࿓ Song Inspo: ↻ ◁ | Willing and Able by Noah Khan| ▷ ↺
࿓ Next
The smell of gas filled the air as Steve twisted the knob on the stove. A stool scraped against the tiled floor as you pulled it away from the kitchen island. You climbed up onto it, grabbing your brother's hand for support.
Steve smiled as you offered him a big smile as a thank you, before he padded back to the stove. “What ya want tonight, Bug?”
“Macaroni, please.” Your voice was as tiny as you were. A mere six years old, and already growing used to fending for yourself.
“We had that last night, and the night before that, and the night before that. You don’t want to try something different?” Steve glanced back, peaking through his shaggy hair.
Your pigtails flew through the air as you shook your head rapidly. “Macaroni!!” You declared.
Steve smiled slightly. “Macaroni it is. But I have to warn you… the macaroni monster might come and get you for eating so much.” He watched your eyes light up in delight.
“Noooo! Not real!” You giggled, watching your brother turn his attention back to the stove.
He let out a small chuckle, “You got me, bug. You’re so smart.”
A small break of silence passed, the kitchen settling into an easy nature. Your legs kicked nervously at the counter as the memory of just a few hours prior surfaced in your mind.
Your fathers booming voice, your mothers avoidant eyes, Steve's stiff body, his eyes finding yours for a moment, the protecitiveness in them and yet the fear and shame that lingered just behind it.
“What are you thinking about, bug?” Steve was beside you now, a bowl of cheesy mac placed in front of both you and the 10 year old boy next you.
You pushed around the pasta, brows furrowed as you tried to swallow the upset in your chest.
Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, eyes searching your face nervously. “Bug?”
You looked up at the boy you admired more than anything, eyes watering slightly. “You aren’t dumb, Bear.”
Steve stared at you, his defenses faltering slightly. He felt an unexplainable pang in his chest. Steve quickly put on an easy smile, “I dunno, I’m pretty silly.”
You nodded, spooning a mouthful of macaroni into your mouth. “Silly, but not stupid. I think you’re the smartest person ever!” You smiled up at him.
Despite the burning sensation attacking his eyes, he laughed. Only you could make him laugh after a particularly brutal lashing out from your father. “Oh yeah?”
You nodded, “You know how to make Macaroni! And you helped me with my spelling and reading, oh and my math!”
You continued rattling off a list of things that made Steve the smartest person ever. Steve didn’t understand the mix of emotions he was feeling then. And he wouldn’t come to understand them until he was much older. But there was one thing that 10 year old Steve knew he felt; an overwhelming and intense urge to protect you. His sister.
The kitchen was cold. And the house was empty. Again. You sat in the same stool, your homework spread out on the countertop in front of you. The stool beside you remained vacant, as vacant as the mansion you called a ‘home,’ as vacant as your parents bedroom and the large room that was supposed to be a living room. It didn’t feel right calling it that when it remained empty day in and day out. In fact, none of the house seemed like there was anyone living there anymore, save for your bedroom. But that’s just how things are now. It’s how they have been for 3 almost 4 years now. The last five months had been particularly brutal. Ever since Hawkins had been ripped open, your parents had gone on a trip and never returned, and Steve had spent more time at work than he did in the house, things had been rough.
You tried to ignore it the way everyone else did. Tried to stick to a busy schedule. Go to school, hang out with friends as long as possible, avoid the house at all costs. And that had worked until the fucking military had instated a curfew. Then came the real problems. Because now you were forced to reside in the empty house. You were forced to come to terms with the fact that the one person you were supposed to have in your corner was gone.
And to make matters worse, he was hanging out with kids your age. Kids you had known your entire life. Kids you went to school with. Because without a shadow of a doubt, you knew exactly where Steve was right now. He was with Dustin Henderson, and that entire group of friends. All of them were probably lounging around that shitty radio station, laughing and playing stupid games, getting on with life. And you sat utterly alone and abandoned.
The thought clawed at your throat, stung in your eyes, and dug into your skin.
You tried focusing on the homework waiting patiently on the counter. The algebra problems waiting to be solved beneath your fingers. But how were you expected to solve math problems when you couldn’t even solve your own life problems.
You bit the inside of your cheek until the metallic taste of blood smoothed out on your tongue as you did your best to will away the tears in your eyes. You swallowed hard, frustration brimming in your chest.
A storm of emotions swirled in your head and leaked into your damaged heart. He should be here. He had promised he would. That was a fucking joke. Sure he had promised you when you were 11 and crying over a stupid science project. Still, the promise bit at you now, mocking your devotion to him. You felt stupid. You felt angry and sad and hurt and abandoned.
You should have known better than to believe anyone in your god forsaken family was able to keep their promises much less stick around.
From a young age you had realized your parents weren’t dependable, you couldn’t trust them to be there for you or pick you up when things got hard. No, that had always been Steve. Steve, your elder brother by four years. He had assured you that you would never be alone as long as he was around.
What a fucking joke.
Because right now, you felt pretty fucking alone. Because you were. The house mocked you with an old creak in the floor board that had you turning around hoping to see your brother. Empty air greeted you, driving that building resentment deeper into your chest. You couldn’t growl of frustration as you pushed off the stool, gathering the homework and shoving it into your bag. You trudged up the stairs and to your room, slamming the door shut. Not like it mattered, there was no one there to hear you taking out your frustration on the door.
Hot tears slid down your cheeks before you could stop them. You let out an angry whimper as you hastily rubbed them away. Your heart twisted in your chest as you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. Cheeks and eyes red, chest heaving, and face contorted in betrayal.
You weren’t sure why his absence still affected you. He had been just as absent as your parents for 3 years, so why did it still tear you apart. Why did it still make you like this?
It wasn’t fair that his absence affected you more than your parents ever had. Maybe it was because he was the one person you hadn’t expected it from. Maybe it was because, unlike your parents, you still cared for him.
You didn’t want to anymore. You were tired of caring about someone you saw for maybe 30 minutes a day. You were tired of letting someone as stupid as him tear apart your heart.
Your expression hardened. You were done feeling like this. If Steve wanted nothing to do with you, then fine, you didn’t want anything to do with him either. He could go run off and play big brother with other kids, why should you care. He wasn’t your brother anymore. Brothers dont leave you to walk home from school by yourself while driving home other kids in your grade. Brothers dont miss out on your debate tournaments because they were busy going to the arcade with other kids. Brothers don’t promise you the world only to give it to someone else. But Steve did. So maybe he wasn’t who you thought he was. So maybe you didn’t have to cry about it anymore… you still would. But maybe not as much anymore.
You sniffled hard, nodding at yourself in the mirror. One more night. You gave yourself one more night to grieve another family memeber that was still living.
“You’re going on a trip now? Seriously??” Steve stared down his parents.
“Yes, Steven. You know we always go to the beach house around this time of year. Your mother and I just want a break from this cursed place.” His father rolled the suitcases to the front door.
Steve rolled his eyes. “You can’t take her with you?”
“She doesn’t want to go, sweetheart. She wants to stay with her brother.” His mom placed a hand on his shoulder.
Steve felt his teeth grind. “She doesn’t know what she wants.”
“Steven, you will take care of her. The way you always have. Do you hear me? She’s your sister, so look out for her. I expect you to keep her safe.” Danny Harrington shot him a hard look.
“She’s not my kid! She’s my sister! You guy’s are supposed to be adults. So make her pack a suit case and take her with you!”
“She has school. You know we can’t take her. This discussion is over. You’re both staying here, and we’ll be home soon.”
Steve bit back a nasty response. He knew what was going on. He knew if they left now, they wouldn’t be able to come back even if they wanted to. And they knew that too. They were willingly leaving their children to fend for themselves. And as always, the responsibility fell on Steve. Well he had had enough of responsibility. He’d had too much of it recently. The last thing he needed was the added weight of you when things were already going to shit. Steve watched bitterly as they quickly shoved their luggage into his dads car, before disappearing down the road.
The stairs creaked behind him. He knew instantly who it was.
“They’re gone, aren’t they?” You spoke quietly.
“Yeah, what else is new.” Frustration laces his voice.
You shifted on your feet, “Well… at least we can have unlimited macaroni again. Y’know like old times?” You tried to lighten the mood.
Unreasonable anger flared in his chest. “Yeah, sure. You can make all the shitty craft mac and cheese you want. I’ve got to go meet up with Robin and Dustin. Just don’t burn the house down.” He was grabbing his coat and out the door before he even realized.
When he slid into the driver's side of his BMW his words finally caught up to him. He didn’t understand why he took out his frustration on you, or why he left like that. Only that it had been happening more often, and he didn’t like it. He had half the mind to go back inside and apologize, but the walki that sat in his cup holder stopped him and had him pulling away from the house, leaving you the same way your parents had done not even 5 minutes earlier.
You stood still on the stairs, staring at the front door. That was the moment you had truly known that Steve was slipping from your life. Maybe you hadn’t been able to admit it until much later. But that was the day you had realized he was more of a stranger than a brother.
Steve slowly pulled into the drive way, early in the morning. His stomach was filled with dread, the way it always was now when he came home. He ran a hand through his hair nervously as he stepped into the quiet house. Last night, Robin had made a comment that had really stuck with him. The party had somehow gotten on the topic of siblings. Robin was complaining that she was an only child when she suddenly remembered something.
“Y’know, I forget all the time that you have a sister.”
“What?” Steve looked at her.
“Yeah. I always think of you as an only child, and then I remember oh shit yeah he’s got a sister.”
Jonathan looked over, brows furrowed. “You have a sister?”
“Of course I have a fucking sister!” He spat out defensively.
“How old is she again? Like 14?” Robin asked.
“She’s in high school, Robs. She’s Dustin’s age.” He glanced over at Dustin.
Lucas nodded, “I’ve got a couple classes with her. She’s nice.”
“Wait so she’s not 14?” Robin clarified.
“No! Why do you think she’s 14?”
“Uh probably cause the last time I remember you talking about her she was 14? Wait, so, where is she?”
“At home?”
“I thought your parents left town?”
“They did.”
“So… she’s just at home alone every night?” Nancy frowned at Steve.
Steve felt tension lace his body, defensiveness taking over. “No! No, of course not. I’m sure, she’s got friends over all the time. Honestly, she’s probably having a small party or something right now.”
Dustin let out a snort. “Yeah right, your sister?”
“Is that so hard to believe, Henderson?”
“Yeah actually it is.”
“Well, care to share why with the class.”
“Because I know for a fact her friend's parents are all sticklers for the curfew. Not to mention your sister is a fucking nerd, she’s not throwing parties in the middle of a lock down.”
“You don’t know shit.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“I know more than you.” Dustin bit back.
The room fell into a rough silence.
Frustration gnawed at Steve. He didn’t know why everyone was hounding him about this. They didn’t know you. He knew you. Why did they all care all of the sudden? They had never asked before, so why now?
“How does she get to school?” Robin asked.
Steve groaned. “She takes the bus!”
Robin frowned slightly, “The buses only go to the neighborhoods closest to the school now. They don’t go all the way out to your neighborhood, Steve.”
He looked to Dustin for confirmation. He nodded. Steve somehow pushed along the conversation ignoring the growing knot in his stomach.
So now, here he was. About to offer you a ride to school for the first time in… 3 years. He knocked on your door, palms slightly sweaty.
“Hey- It’s Bear. I was thinking maybe I could take you to school today? Like old times?” Silence followed. His brows knit together. “Bug? You in there?” He gently opened the door.
Empty room. No backpack. You had already left. He swore under his breath. Alright… then he would pick you up instead. He padded down the stairs, eyes landing on a long envelope sitting on the kitchen counter. His eyes trailed to the stool that was still pulled out. Your stool. He cringed slightly before turning over the small letter. It was from Hawkins. He peaked inside… a report card. Your report card.
His eyes scanned the paper, brows furrowing more. You were failing. Bad. So bad that a parent signature was needed. Oh you were in massive trouble. How had you not told him?! How the hell were you failing? You were a smart kid, he knew you were better than that. This was unacceptable.
When school let out you decided to just go straight home. As you began your treck, your eye caught on Steve's stupid BMW. You stared at it in confusion. Steve sat inside it, waving you over. Part of you wanted to flip him off and walk home just to piss him off. But you had 3 make up tests and a shit ton of homework in your bag. So, you dragged yourself over to his car.
The second you were situated inside, he was holding up your report card. “What the fuck is this? Failing?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I can read. I know I’m failing.”
The car started down the road, Steve's eyes flared with an angry fight. “Why?! You’re smart, so why are you failing? That’s not who you are.” You couldn’t help the scoff that fell from your lips. His eyes burned into you for a second before returning to the road. “Don’t scoff at me! This is unacceptable. When you get home, youre getting straight to work on whatever you have to-”
“Oh my god! Would you stop!? You’re not mom and dad! And I know I have work to do! I’ve got 3 make-up tests in my backpack already! So stop trying to parent me! I know I fucked up, god, why are you on my ass!?”
“Well someone has to be!” He barked back.
“I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly not.” Steve grumbled.
A flash of anger took you over. “Y’know what, fuck you. Just pull over. I’ll walk home from here. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than drive your fuck up of a sister home.”
“I’m not making you walk home.”
“Why? You’ve never had an issue with it before!?” You crossed your arms.
“Why are you being such a brat? Sorry I have to work! Y’know someone has to be able to make sure there’s food on the table.”
“What fucking table!? A table is for a family and last time I checked there's not one. You don’t even eat at the house!”
“Oh so this is my fault?!”
“Can’t be your fault when you’re not even there to cause problems in the first place.” You looked out the window.
Steve fell silent. Sure, he hadn’t been around lately. But he had been protecting the town, protecting his friends, protecting his family. Only, you weren’t part of that family.
The rest of the drive was filled with ragged breathing. The second the car came to a halt you were out and slamming the door, heading into the house without a second look at him.
He should have followed. He should have put away his defensive walls. But he didn’t. Instead, he headed straight to his own home, to his own family.
Later that night, the sound of a car door shutting pulled your attention from the calculus work in front of you. Steve. A small flame of hope ignited in you as you turned to the door with expecting eyes.
The door opened, and the flame extinguished. Your parents stood in the dark entry way, scanning the home for you and Steve. Your mom smiled lightly when her eyes found you. Your parents had come back to you before Steve.
Your parents had dinner with you before Steve. Had asked you about how high school was before him. Had asked about any boys in your life before he had. This was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was always supposed to be Steve in this position.
Instead, for some unknown reason, your parents had decided maybe it was time to be a part of your life. And you let them. Because you desperately need someone… anyone, to hold you, to care for you, to love you.
Steve didn’t relaize your parents were home until three days later. After the fight in the car he had backed off even more, growing defensive instead of caring. Of course he wasn’t going to be around 24/7, he was helping fight interdemensional demons and monsters. He was busy making sure your life stayed as normal as possible. And if that meant not always being around you, then fine. What Steve saw as protection, you saw as abandonment. It just hadn’t clicked yet. Things had been so crazy that Steve hadn’t truly realized that his friends were right, you were right. He wasn’t around anymore. He had left you alone in that house just like his parents had. And just like them, he hadn’t even realized. Because Steve simply hadn’t had the time to realize.
Until he came home, a box of macaroni tucked under his arm. The first thing he noticed was the unfamiliar car sitting in the driveway. Friends. Good, he was right. You did have friends over when he wasn’t home. That small burden on his chest lifted slightly. Alright. How hard could it be? Having dinner with you and a friend. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being around kids your age.
He opened the door, expecting a cold shudder. Instead, warmth and the smell of a home cooked meal filled his senses. Two older voices mixed with yours filtered into his ears as he rounded out of the entryway into the living room. His eyes drifted to the warm light coming from the dining room.
And there it was.
The dinner table was set with trashy decor, expensive china, and filled to the brim with food. Mouthwatering, freshly made, home cooked, food. His father sat at the head, his mother seated on one side… and you seated on the other. Your back was to him, and neither of your parents had noticed him yet. He stared at the scene. You talking wildly with the two adults infront of you, them staring back at you with love and attention. So much attention that Steve went unnoticed for five minutes, listening to you talk about whatever stupid high school drama was going on. Steve moved from the shadows of the living room, heading to the kitchen with the stupid box of macaroni.
“Steven! You’re home.” Kathy Harrington's shrill voice rang out with delight. Before he realized she was up and making her way towards him. She kissed his cheek, taking the bow out from under his arm. “What’s this?” She held up the box with amusement.
His eyes caught the back of your head. You still hadn’t looked at him. “It’s mac and cheese. Bugs favorite. I was gonna make it tonight.”
Kathy laughed, patting his shoulder. “You’re silly dear. We have plenty of home made mac and cheese anyway. Besides, this stuff is cancerous. Go, sit! I’ll get you a plate.” She dissapeared into the kitchen.
“I’m good actually. I already ate-”
“Sit down, Steven.” His fathers voice shot through the air. There was that familiar cold feeling. Steve dragged himself over to the four person table, sitting across from Danny. “Where have you been? It’s been three days since we came home and you’ve not come by once.”
Steve clenched his jaw. “I was at work.”
“You sleep at work now, son?” Danny’s eyes bore into him.
“Yeah, I do. It’s a radio show, it’s on all night.” Steve sat stifly in the chair.
“So you leave your sister here like that often?” He began cutting through a piece of stake, eyes still on Steve.
“No.”
“Yes.” You cut him off.
Steve froze, anger rising. What the fuck were you doing? Throwing him under the bus like that? “That’s not true.”
You scoffed. “Sure, whatever makes you sleep better at night, cause I know it’s not the mattres here.” You shot a glare at him.
“What’s crawled up your as-” His mom slid a plate in front of him, giving him a warning look.
“Don’t speak to your sister like that.” She frowned.
An uneasy silence settled over the table. Steve hated it. Because for once it was him that had caused it.
“So, sweetie, you were telling us about your boyfriend-”
Steve let out a snort. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
You stared at him hard. “Actually, yes, I do.”
He stared at you dumbfounded. “No you don’t! I would know about it!”
“Would you?” You snapped. “Tell me, Steve. Would you? What’s my best friend's name? How old am I? Whose my favorite band? What do I do after school??”
“Why are you hounding me like this?” He sat back defensively.
“Why aren’t you answering!? You don’t know! And you don’t care!” You threw your hands up in defeat.
“I know how old you are! You’re Dustins age!”
You stood up, the chair scraping hard agains the wood. Your face was red hot with fury. “Oh yeah, I’m Dustins age! I’m in Dustins grade! I’m Dustin’s classmate! You always put me behind him! He’s not your sibling, Steve! I am!” You stared at him through hot tears.
Steve stood up, face just as red. “He’s going through a hard time! He doesn’t have anyone there for him. I’m just trying to be-”
“A big brother, yeah I know.” You spat the words out viciously.
“So what if I am!? Why is that so fucking bad!?”
“Becuase he’s the one that get’s a brother and I’m the one that lost one!” You turned on your heel and stormed up the stairs.
Steve started to follow before his fathers voice cut through the air. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
Steve stared at your retreating figure before sitting down. The cushioned padding beneath him felt suffocating. His jaw set in place as his eyes met his fathers.
“We told you to take care of her.” His voice was heavy with disappointment.
“And I told you to take her.”
“You were supposed to look out for her. And now I’m hearing you’re not even here most of the time? You don’t even know if she’s had her boyfriend over. Do you know how much danger she could have been in and you would have no idea?”
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend!” Steve threw up his hands in defeat.
“We met him, Steven. He stayed over for dinner last night.”
Steve’s grip on the chair tightened.
“Since you must know everything about her now, you know she’s failing school, right?” He tried giving his dad something else to sink his teeth into.
“I’m not surprised. She didn’t exactly have a bright role model.” Danny stared him down.
There it was. That aching disappointment and annoyance. Steve’s eyes hardened. “She’s not my fucking responsibility! I told you to take her with you. I’m not the only person to abandon her. You guys left first! She’s almost 17, I’m tired of being her damn babysitter.”
You stood at the top of the stairs, hidden in the shadows. Face hardened with heartbreak, but not surprised.
Danny Harrington stood from the table, “Your mother and I think it’s best if you move out. You’re almost 21, it’s time to find your own place. And it’s not like you’re here much anyway. I don’t think it should be that hard of a move.”
Steve let out a weak breath. “Fine.” He stood up, pushing away his untouched plate. “Wouldn’t want to disturb your little family.”
Steve grabbed his jacket from the hanger, hand on the doorknob. He could feel your eyes on him. He turned his head, catching sight of you at the top of the stairs. You both knew if he left now that the damage would be permanent. He knew that if he took another step you would never see him the same way again. And you knew that he was okay with that. Steve watched the silent plea on your face drop, turning into a hardened resentment.
He crossed the threshold, stepping into the warm autumn air, the door swinging shut behind him.
Happy Anniversary | Steve Harrington x Byers!reader
Summary: Steve misses your anniversary dinner, then shows up at your window at midnight with rumpled flowers and a guilty face.
Warnings: ANGST! ANGST! ANGST! Some Nancy slander, sorry hehe love Nancy tho. Implied smut (nothing actually happens tho), Joyce being a bad mom to reader, sad ending :(
w.c: 2.5k
divider by @uzmacchiato
The clock struck 7 PM, and you inhaled sharply, a huge smile overtaking your features. You and Steve had planned a date night tonight for your first anniversary, and he had promised to take you to Enzo’s, the fancy Italian place that's normally too out of budget for you. So, for the occasion, you pulled out a dress from the deep, dark depths of your closet that hasn’t seen the light of day in approximately three years but somehow miraculously fits. You paired that with a stunning pair of high heels, styled your hair, which you rarely did, put on makeup and jewelry, and felt and looked quite possibly the most put-together and gorgeous you had in the entire trajectory of your relationship.
Now, you didn’t normally care about what people thought of you. But tonight, you really wanted Steve to see you. You wanted that lovestruck, awed look to cross his features when he took you in, the one that always sent the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. You wanted to see him floundering as he thought about what words might best convey his sentiments, and you wanted him to come up short. And at the end of the night, you wanted him to hold you like you were precious, to worship you with reverence like you were the only deity he’d bow down to while he slowly moved in and out of you. You wanted to hear the quiet praises in your ear right before he came.
You were getting giddy just thinking about it.
It's 7:15 PM now, and there are still no signs of his familiar beamer pulling up outside. Normally, this wouldn’t bother you. Steve had never been the most punctual, so you weren’t too worried. He had been late to dates in the past by 5 or 10 minutes, and he always apologized profusely afterwards, even when you said it was alright. However, lately, he had been cancelling more and more dates, missing your calls at night, and disappearing for days without an explanation, leaving you to imagine the absolute worst.
By the time the clock struck 7:30, the heels had come off, and your feet were propped up on the coffee table. Now you were growing upset. Questions like ‘did he forget?’ were starting to swirl in your mind, but you did your best to push them aside. Steve wouldn’t forget, right?. He’d always remembered the most trivial days, like the exact date you met (he’d gotten you the teddy that sat on your bed) and your first kiss (he’d taken you to a picnic near the same spot where you kissed), so surely he’d remember your anniversary. And even if he had been acting suspicious the past few weeks, he’d show up tonight. Tonight was an important night. He wouldn’t miss it…right?
However, the more you watched the hands of the clock turn farther from 7, the less sure you became. Hurt started to rear its ugly head past the 8 PM horizon, but you refused to cry. By the time the sun had fully set on your date night excitement, you were more angry than anything. You changed into your pajamas, then played the stereo in your room while lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. You were grateful the house was empty since Joyce was on a date with Hopper, Jonathan probably with Nancy and Will at the Wheelers’ house. You were happy to be alone. No risk of having to explain your swollen, red eyes or puffy face or tear-stained cheeks.
Not that anyone really bothered asking even when they were home. Most days you felt like invisible in front of your own family, partially why you were so excited about tonight: being celebrated was a luxury only afforded to your brothers in this house for the past few years. Even your graduation was given minimal attention, barely acknowledged, and you’d ended up cutting a small cupcake alone in your room.
How could Steve do this? He had been talking about this date for weeks! About how he was going to treat you like a queen the way you deserved, how he’d been saving up from his job at Family Video so you’d be able to enjoy a nice dinner without having to feel guilty about the price of whatever you were ordering (of course, you had agreed to split the bill 50-50 still. “It's your anniversary too, Stevie. You deserve to be celebrated too,” you had explained, and Steve had pretended his eyes didn’t gloss over at that), and now, he’d just…forgotten.
You had also gotten him a gift you had spent days making. A scrapbook with basically the entire trajectory of your relationship, complete with the wrapper of the gum that sparked your first conversation when he asked for a piece in class, to the tickets to the drive-in movie you two watched two weeks ago, pictures of you both taken on Jonathan’s camera, developed by you, some taken in photo booths, and some journal entries you had written when your relationship was progressing. It was the rawest, most vulnerable you had ever been with Steve, but he deserved to know how special he is to you. How being in this relationship had healed a part of you damaged by years of being sidelined by your mom in favour of your brothers.
Tears slid down your cheeks as you looked at the scrapbook lying on your side table. You had planned to give it to him later tonight when he dropped you back home. You were going to invite him in, since it was unlikely anyone would be back until pretty late, and you two would probably celebrate some more; then you’d give him the scrapbook, explain the significance behind it, and you’d talk until he had to leave.
That obviously wasn’t happening anymore.
You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep in the pit of your hurt and betrayal until three taps at your window roused you. You squinted, forcing your tear-stuck lashes open groggily, blinking to clear your view enough to glance at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 12 A.M. You listened for a second at the house, but the silence replied that nobody was home yet.
The three taps demanded your attention again, and you pulled yourself out of bed to draw back the curtains. You knew who it was even before you drew the curtains. It wasn’t the first time Steve had shown up in the middle of the night for a quick make-out and cuddle session via the thick pipe running along the length of the house and through your window. You drew back your curtains to reveal a very guilty-looking Steve, but you were so incredibly angry and hurt that even his puppy eyes couldn’t thaw the ice.
You debated for a minute whether to let him in at all. It was as if Steve could read the internal conflict on your face and somehow, his face became even more guilty, if that was even possible. He gave you his best pleading eyes to get you to open the window, and in the end, your curiosity got the better of you. You wanted to know what was more important than your anniversary, so you slowly opened the window.
Steve looked relieved for a second, then quickly squeezed through.
You stepped back, settling on the edge of the bed with your arms crossed and glaring at him. Steve knew he was in deep shit, so the smile disappeared from his face pretty quickly.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry for missing our anniversary,” he started immediately.
The first thing you noticed was that he was still in the clothes he usually wears to work: blue jeans and a polo. Your eyes dropped to the bouquet in his hands. Rumpled, messily packaged, with blue roses and lilies – your favourite. You might have felt a flutter in your heart if it weren’t for the third, and the most gut-wrenching of it all: there was a lingering scent of perfume on him. Not his for sure. It was too flowery. Not your perfume, either. Too sweet for your taste, but perfect for someone else's.
You looked at him in utter betrayal. Another apology had already made its way up to his lips, but you spoke before he could.
“You were with Nancy,” you stated, voice slightly catching on her name. All the fear from the past few weeks, all the missed calls and unexcused absences compounded with the betrayal of your missed anniversary, started boiling. Had he been with her all those times as well? How long had it been going on? Were you just too naive to believe someone like Steve Harrington would genuinely be interested in someone like you?
All the colour immediately drained from his face.
He took a tentative step forward. “Doll, I can explain,” he started carefully.
You turned your gaze away from his, unable to keep all the intrusive thoughts out of your head. You knew, realistically, that faintly smelling like her perfume didn’t necessarily mean he'd done anything with her. But you couldn’t help the dread pooling in your chest, the images that covered your field of vision.
“We were just hanging out. That’s all,” he explained, stepping closer.
You whipped your head around to face him, eyes wide and blazing in disbelief. “On our anniversary?! You were hanging out with another girl when you were supposed to meet me for a date?”
Steve grimaced. “Okay, I know that sounds bad, but I swear I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t urgent-”
“Oh, what? She needed to be dicked down that desperately?” You knew that was a cheap shot, that Steve wouldn’t do something like that, but the anger and betrayal had created a thick cloud cover over reason and logic at the moment.
Steve physically stepped back, eyes immediately glossing over. “That’s not fair,” he whispered, looking down. “You know I would never cheat on you.”
“Do I?” you retorted immediately. “Because from where I’m standing, my boyfriend has been cancelling dates for the past few weeks, has been missing our calls every night, and has been disappearing for days without notice, only to come back with some bullshit excuse. And now, the cherry on top, he shows up on our anniversary five hours late, and smells like his ex-girlfriend. So tell me, Steve, how do I know you’re not fucking your ex behind my back?”
He floundered, absolutely bewildered by your accusations but not knowing how to dispute them. “We went to that drive-in movie two weeks ago!” he retorted.
You scoffed. “You’re right,” you replied sarcastically. “One distracted movie totally makes up for all the problems we’ve been having!”
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in defeat. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want me to say?”
You stood up from the bed, arms falling to your sides. “I want you to tell me the truth about why you weren’t there tonight and why you’ve been acting the way you have for the past few weeks.” You looked at him as he processed this and remained silent still, which made you cock an eyebrow. “Steven Harrington, if you don’t want to be with me anymore, be a fucking man and say it. Don’t play these games with me.”
You saw the panic in his eyes at that. “Of course I want to be with you!” and you thought you’d finally have some answers, but then Steve hung his head. “I can’t tell you,” he whispered.
Tears welled in your eyes. He was cheating, wasn’t he?
“Why not?” you whispered.
“I-it’ll put you in danger. I can’t do that, doll,” he looked at you with pleading eyes, imploring you to understand.
You furrowed your brows. “Danger? What kind of danger?”
“The life-threatening kind,” he gulped. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. You’re the best thing in my life.” His voice was so quiet, so raw, that for a second you considered backing down.
But he still smelled like her.
“So she gets to be in the club, and I don’t?” you whispered.
He was doing that thing that your mom had been doing since Will came back: leaving you out. Since his return, it was like Jonathan, Joyce, and Will were a team, and you were a spectator on the bleachers, trying out for the team every year but never making the cut. The thought made your chest hurt. You had truly thought Steve was different. That he’d never deliberately leave you out, but here you are, being left out once again.
“Baby, please,” he pleaded in a defeated voice. “This isn’t about her. This is about us, about me wanting to keep you safe.”
You sniffled. “Well, that’s not really your decision to make, Steve,” you whispered.
“Like hell it isn’t! I promised your mom-” he cut himself off, eyes wide.
“My mom? What does she have to do with this?” You furrowed your brows.
He shook his head. “Forget I said that,” he waved his hand dismissively.
“No, I will not just forget about it. Tell me, is my mom in on whatever this bullshit is?” you questioned.
Steve didn’t meet your eyes, looking down at his shoes as he meekly nodded.
You scoffed in disbelief, taking a step back. “Un-fucking-believable,” you shook your head. “Who else is in on it, huh? Are my brothers in it?”
Steve didn’t respond.
“Fucking tell me!” you yelled.
“...yes,” he whispered.
You couldn’t believe your ears. “So everyone’s just collectively decided I’m not what? Not good enough to join this little club you have going on?”
“It's just to keep you from getting hurt,” Steve responded from between gritted teeth.
“You’re hurting me right now, Steve!” you yelled, throwing your hands up in frustration. “You’ve been hurting me for weeks!”
Steve flinched when you yelled, pinching his nose. He looked away from you, unable to stand the angry tears that were rolling down your cheeks. He was well aware that he was hurting you, knew of your issues with being excluded, knew that this must be killing you right now, but all of that was still preferable to getting you mixed up in the monsters they were dealing with. Because you might hate him right now, might be angry at him and your family for deliberately keeping you out of the loop, but he would much rather that than be kneeling over your dead body because he couldn’t keep you safe.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
You let the tears flow freely down your face. “I’m sorry, too,” you responded, taking a step back from him.
Steve’s head snapped to you, dread filling his features. “No,” he murmured. “Doll, don’t do this, please.”
“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t be with you if I can’t trust you not to keep things from me.”
You saw the tears escape his eyes; let yours fall with his, but your decision was final.
need some pathetic finn/mike smut where he yearns, his puppy eyes omg...
. ✦ ݁ ˖ crazy in love — mike wheeler
⊹ ࣪ ˖ summary: after making you upset, mike is desperate to do anything to make it up to you. even if it means getting on his knees and making use of his puppy dog eyes and loud mouth.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ word count: 3.5k words
⊹ ࣪ ˖ warnings: fem!afab!reader, sub!mike, oral sex (f!receiving), dry humping & thigh riding, not proofread!
You can't remember the last time you've been this... Frustrated. Not necessarily mad, nor upset, but frustrated. It wasn't everyday that your boyfriend got on your nerves, but when it did happen, it was never because of this.
But Mike just had to tell you that you were being dramatic about that girl who came up to him. That you were overthinking it and it was all in your head that her complimenting him was flirting by any means. As if she wasn't batting her eyelashes and sucking up to him thinking he was single.
Then, the cherry on top: he called you crazy for it.
He tried to apologize and take it back incessantly, repeatedly telling you that he misspoke. He didn't mean it like that, he'd insisted.
Now, you're letting him reap the consequences of his actions by serving him silence. Was it petty? Yeah. Should you probably just talk to him about it? Also yeah.
But it's so hard when he begs so pretty.
"C'mon, is there anything I can do to make it up to you? Please don't ignore me." He tilts his head back to look up at you where you're sitting on the couch. "Anything! Literally anything!" He exclaims, exasperated.
He's sat on the floor below the couch, head falling to rest on your knee as he slumps back against it in another fit of defeat. When you don't reply, he audibly groans. He turns to face you, now, looking up at you where you sit above him. Resting his chin on your knee, he sighs.
"Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment over this right now?"
Silence.
With conviction, he bats his lashes up at you, to which you watch. Not that you're entertaining it, but his eyes have always been alluring from above... Then, when he realizes he finally has your attention, he lights up and eagerly sits up a little straighter.
Like he's realized the opportunity, his hands slowly pick up off the floor and lay on your calves. Holding, supporting. When you shift at the touch, he looks back up at you.
"Please?" He sighs again. For what, you're unsure. Permission? Forgiveness? Neither? Both?
All you know is you don't want him to pull away just yet. So, you offer a faint nod.
With wide eyes of disbelief, Mike doesn't waste a moment. His eyes drop for a moment as he presses a small, almost chaste kiss on your knee. You didn't expect this outcome when wearing something that gave your legs room to breathe.
"You know how much I care about you, right?" He feels the need to ask again, like he can't quite sit with the fact you might think otherwise. "Because I do. A lot." He emphasizes with a nod.
He presses a kiss to your inner thigh.
Shuddering, you nod back, murmuring, "I know."
"So she speaks." He whispers sarcastically.
His nose bumps and digs into your skin with every kiss he leaves along your thigh. Littering them over the expanse of the bare skin, he makes eye contact when he leaves one in a particularly sensitive spot—he wants to watch your head tilt back in satisfaction. He wants to see the effect he has on you.
The hands on your calves slowly trail up your leg before settling on your inner thighs. Again, just holding and supporting. But this time, it almost feels like foreshadowing.
"...Can I make it up to you?" He asks, a bit awkwardly. The words sound far from natural coming out of his mouth and you can only huff out a small laugh at it. He gently pinches your skin with a weak retort, "hey, don't laugh! I mean it."
Sighing softly, you agree with another nod, "you can try, yeah."
"Cool. Didn't think you'd actually let me. Okay, cool." He sucks in a sharp breath, nodding to himself, "what am I supposed to do?"
"What, you didn't actually have an idea when you asked?" Lazily, you run your hand through his hair. It's hard to stay mad for long when you see his genuineness shine through. He really means this.
"I told you, I didn't think you'd actually agree!" He sighs before deciding to litter the top of your clothed thigh in kisses, hands ever so slowly running higher up your legs.
Then, the tips of his fingers bump into your waistband, and he has to audacity to act surprised at it. As if moments later, he's not looping his fingers between the space that meets both the fabric and your skin. Like he's not practically begging to pull them down with the way he looks up at you pathetically.
When you lift your hips, he blinks again, like he can't believe you're letting him do any of this. Does he not know you're his girlfriend, and it's far from the first time you've done something like this? You digress.
Mike is quick to intrude on your space, lacking grace when he shoves the fabric down like he holds a personal vendetta against it. All to meet your skin just a few seconds faster.
His hands plaster on your knees before he gently nudges your thighs apart, breath stuttering at the sight of you almost entirely exposed. Almost.
"You really can't resist me, huh?" He jokes quietly, huffing out a small laugh as his fingers gently graze over the fabric of your undergarments, lifting the edge of your shirt to clear the way. "You were still pissed at me not even, like, five minutes ago."
"Keep talking and that'll change real quick." You nudge him gently, thighs parting further as if inviting him in closer.
Presumably at the threat, his hands move to grip your hips as he drags you closer to him across the couch until your hips as near the edge. Until he's face to face with your clothed pussy, and you're shivering at the heat of his breath.
Maybe he was kind of right. You give in easy. But you'd be damned before ever reaffirming that.
"Message received." He feigns seriousness before curling his fingers around the hem of the fabric and trying to get the last of your undergarments off. You lift your hips again to let him and he helps them down your thighs and legs before abandoning them to the side.
You almost provoke him again by poking fun at how slow he's being. He quickly quiets any semblance of snark you had.
"O-Oh," your head falls back, the couch cushioning your sudden movement, "Mike—"
It's his nose nudging against your clit while he licks a long stripe up your pussy. It's his fingers parting your thighs and helping them over his shoulders just to bring you closer. It's the way he latches onto your clit and sucks fervently.
It's all of these things that have your back arching and hand immediately reaching down to tangle in his dark, messy curls to keep your cool.
"Gotta make it up to you," he murmurs against you, never able to just be quiet and enjoy the moment, "is it working? You forget about it yet?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself." You huff, smiling at his eagerness before tugging him closer again, "you have a lot more to prove before we get there."
Humming against your clit, Mike finally moves down to the entrance of your pussy as his tongue dips inside of you. He's not slow or meticulous, no, he's messy and uncoordinated. So when you feel his face press flush against your pussy with his tongue flexing somewhere deep inside of you and his nose absolutely digging into your clit for you to grind against, you think you've found heaven.
Gasping out at all of the sudden sensations, he's spurred on and begins fucking his tongue in and out of you as best he can. You remember when he wasn't so good at maintaining stamina when going down on you, his tongue always getting tired right before your orgasm could hit. A lot of making out helped with that. And thank god, because he's good.
"Am I doing good?" He beams up at you, eyes wide and eager as he laps at your pussy to stave you over until he gets a reply.
Nodding back, you encourage him to continue, "so good, don't stop."
You're hoping it doesn't end after this, because usually it does when he's worked up like this. He'd get hard and shake off his own pleasure even though it was blatantly obvious he didn't want to.
Gently nudging his thigh with your foot, he damn near stutters at the feel of you against him. He gives you his utmost attention, only to see you're not expecting it.
He continues, licking and lapping hungrily at you like he won't get the chance to again. Aching for you to get even closer, he helps bring one of your thighs to rest over his shoulder before doing the same with the other. The sight is an erotic one, his head being hugged by your legs as he welcomes it. He leans into the touches while he tilts his head to get at just the angle he wants to.
Meanwhile, your body is feeling all the effects. Heat rushes through you, settling low in your core after it first floods your face and makes your head spin. Just when you think to breathe again, he's taking your ability to away with one motion.
He almost tries to part from you to speak again, but your thighs clamping around his head still him. It's not long after that he continues his ministrations and narrows in on your clit to try and make up for the interruption.
His tongue eagerly soothes over your clit, working in circles once he gets the hang of it. It's like he has to pause and think about what to do next. Not that you mind. You just know his mind is flitting back through every past memory, and his cock twitching in his jeans is enough proof.
His thigh brushes against your foot once more and he swallows back a whine that escapes him wantonly when you intentionally repeat it.
"...You wanna make it up to me, babe?" You instigate, reaching down and running a hand through his hair once more, stilling in his scalp, "you want me to forgive you that bad?"
When he hums against your clit, the surge of pleasure it sends coursing through your body is electric. You're not sure what it is about it, but you feel it from your fingertips to your toes and you can't help but let out a weak whine yourself.
Swallowing thickly in an attempt to regain your composure, you look down at him again, "I want you to get off with me, okay? Then... I'll forgive you." It comes out weakly, but he seems to take it with just as much importance as he nods back.
His hands move down out of your line of sight to fumble with the buckle of his belt, to which you stop him with a weak squeeze on his dark locks. He takes in a sharp breath, lips parting with desperation as he looks up at you in awe. His furrowed brows are so pretty and god, you can't help but love the sight of him in distress.
Instead, you slip your thighs off either of his shoulders and nudge your leg between his thigh until his clothed bulge is twitching against your bare ankle.
He's getting turned on by this.
"...Okay?" You ask, wondering if he understood that easily. Without a single word, he'd fallen into place like he'd done this before. You know he hadn't, though. That's what made this so intriguing.
"Y-Yeah. Yeah, okay. I got it." He agrees, stuttering and fumbling over his words out of sheer embarrassment.
It's not the kind where you feel bad and reel it in, no. It's the kind where you wanna push and pry until his cheeks are flushed and he's bucking helplessly against your leg like a—
"Mike," you gasp out his name with a high whine when he returns to sucking and licking at your clit like before, without any opportunity for you to ease into it. Payback, maybe, but you don't mind it at all when it makes you feel this good.
That's when you feel him tentatively pressing himself against where your ankle and foot meet, reluctant yet insistent on doing whatever he could for your forgiveness.
As mean as you can be, you're too kind not to help him out when he needs a push.
"Doing so fucking good, baby..." You coo, watching his hips stutter as he grinds down against your foot. You didn't mean to be as into this as you were, but there was something about watching your boyfriend be reduced to a whiny, leaking mess that seemed to do it for you...
Words do it for him, which you take advantage of almost immediately.
"You like making me feel good? Like going down on me, eating me out? I know you do..." You'd said as you gently brushed his long bangs out of his eyes, a sharp contrast from the way you were grinding your foot against his bulge for him.
"You gonna make me cum for you? All for you?" Biting down on your lower lip, your head falls back as you feel his grip on your thighs tighten.
It was the final one that made his hips jerk particularly hard.
"I love you so much. So, so fucking much. My boy, my pretty boy—"
Choking out a moan, you feel that familiar heat stirring deep in your core, threatening to wash over you at any second now. Your hips lift to try and feel more of him, to chase the pleasure he's giving you, and he lets you. He lets you grind up against his face as he returns to his prior position with his tongue buried deep inside of you and his nose narrowly rubbing against your clit with every grind of your hips.
You know you're done for when his hips start stuttering against you and he's looking up at you like he's begging for it to be okay.
You're certain that that's what triggers it.
Whimpering despite yourself, you feebly tug at his scalp as your orgasm washes over you like it's long awaited. Your walls cave in around his tongue and all he does is let it, because that's not enough to stop him. The low buzzing in your core is only heightened when he laps at your clit like a lost puppy trying to impress you, fighting back his own orgasm for the sake of your own.
"...F-Fuck, I love you, I love you so much—" you rush out, words hard to form right now when you're being fucked through your orgasm and also into another if it weren't for over sensitivity.
Gently tugging at his hair, you finally come down enough to notice him slowly rocking against your foot still, only now as if it pains him not to do more. Reaching down to cup his cheek, you whisper the words he's been waiting for all night.
"C'mere, baby."
He succumbs almost immediately, sitting up off his knees and setting aside the burn in his thighs as he stands tall above you.
When you motion for him to settle in your lap, no matter how clunky he may think it to be, he complies easily. His hands find your shoulders as he sinks down in whatever he thinks the best way is and looks down at you.
"...Hey. Hi." He breathes out, like he can't help but feel awkward after everything.
"Hi." You murmur back, still a bit dazed from your high. It shows on your face and in the afterglow you bask in, looking like an angel from where he sit tall in your lap.
"Would my thigh be easier for you?" You propose, drawing your lip between your lower teeth as if constraining the whine that bubbles up from low in your throat at the mere thought.
"W-what?" He chokes out, blinking as his hands tighten on your shoulders, "your—what?"
"My thigh." You reiterate, letting the idea sit with him for a moment before resting your own hands on his hips like he'd done to you many of times before, "I want you to, if you want to."
Looking down at the scene in front of him in disbelief, he blinks back up at you and nods lazily, "uh, yeah... Yeah, if you want."
Obviously it would be asking too much for him to accept that he's doing this for him, not only for you. That's not your priority right now, though. Right now, you want him to grind against your thigh like you do his and cum for you.
Then, you'll officially forgive him.
"Kiss me?" You look up at him, wrapping your arms around his back as he slowly rocks back and forth against the plush of your thigh.
When you ask things of him and tell him that it's for you, you know it satiates that part of him that craves to be needed and wanted. You don't feel bad doing it because you know, deep down, you crave it too. To want and need him.
He leans down with haste, nose bumping against yours before his lips trap yours in an uncoordinated yet intimate kiss. His tongue is all over yours, exploring and taking, all while his body works overtime for it's own orgasm.
Rocking a little harder now, his jeans seem to be the right amount of friction to work himself up fast. It shows when his movements start to falter and his body tenses like it's begging for a release.
Parting from your lips, the whine he lets out is immediate. It's not as low as when he usually moans, no, it's desperate and wanting. Something you haven't heard until now.
He groans out your name and wraps his arms even tighter around you as he stills, undoubtedly hitting his high without warning. His face curls up into the side of your neck as he tries to rock his hips through it. You have to give him a helping hand in that regard, guiding him down from his peak so he could fully experience it.
You talk him through every second of it. Reciting his name, telling him how much you love him, how much you need him, how good he made you feel—hell, you even told him how pretty he looked on top of you. Looking back, you realize that might've been his breaking point.
Moaning throughout the entirety of it, his orgasm goes just as fast as it came. He's left with a compromising damp stain on his worn out jeans and a lot less audacity than he came in here with.
"I..." He starts, before shaking his head. Yeah, words were not happening for him right now.
"Shh." You nod your head back, "I love you so, so much. That was—really hot, okay? Don't overthink it or get in your head like I know you're doing right now. See? I know you." Weakly laughing, you cup his cheek and get him to look at you.
Giving a nod in return, stubborn enough to feign normalcy, he murmurs, "I'm not... In my head."
"I know, baby." You sigh, pressing a kiss to his lips just to quiet him. You're not quite ready to have your talkative, stubborn boyfriend back just yet. Just for a moment, you like this vulnerability you're seeing. Raw and real and genuine.
You get that one last time when he looks up from where he's buried his face in your neck to ask in a breathy voice, "do you forgive me now?"
"I forgave you the second you kissed my leg, honestly. Wanted you to have to put in a little more work than that, though. For both of our sakes." Running a hand through his mess of curls, you rest your forehead against his with a sigh, "but to be fair, I feel a lot closer to you now than I did before, so that's something, right?"
"You made me ride your thigh. Obviously you'd think that." He scoffs, nose nuzzling the crook of your neck as he nips and kisses at the skin there.
"There's my bratty boyfriend. Almost got scared I lost ya." You tease softly, leaning into his touch and slumping against the couch while he weighs you down, "god forbid, right?"
"Shut up." He huffs, but you can tell he doesn't mean it. You know him well enough by now.
"I love you, too." You press a kiss to his temple, over his messy hair, finally feeling him melt against you too.
Forgiving him was the easiest thing you've ever done.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ a/n: w-woah! two posts in one night?!? vurbenaa chan you're insane!! >< no sorry i just really wanna finish & post all my drafts so i feel better abt starting new requests... im so fcking sorry. i need to lock in. generationally. here's mike smut i promised to u all 5000 yrs ago,... <3 some balance for the fluff i js posted tbh
Gator's on patrol when he sees you kneeling at the edge of a large field, hundreds of cornhusks off in the distance. He sighs, knowing you're likely up to something... weird, and pulls over, throwing the cruiser in park and yanking his key from the ignition.
He never planned on looking out for you, but you just keep appearing places, doing things that make Gator worry, and he can't help but want to protect you. For God's sake, there's no one else out there making sure you don't get taken by some creep! He swears, you'd actually get in a sketchy looking van if they offered you candy, and for that reason alone, Gator can't help it when he squats down next to you, knees cracking at the joint (embarrassingly, making him wince), with a flat expression.
"What're you doin', sunshine?"
He watches in his peripheral vision as you squint your eyes, keeping your gaze straight ahead. He glances at your flowy skirt, the hem barely covering the band-aid on your thigh from whatever nonsense you last got yourself into.
"Waiting for the bunnies," you whisper. "You have to be quiet though. You'll scare 'em off."
"Why would I scare 'em off?"
You finally look at him, as if the answer's obvious, "They don't like loud noise, Gator."
"Oh. My mistake."
You hum, plopping down your butt and bringing your knees to your chest. You smush your cheek against the bone of your knee, and Gator has the urge to reach out and smooth out your hair. He sighs.
"You see bunnies here before, then?" he asks. You shake your head.
"No. Just felt like they would like it over here y'know? It's nice and wide open... they probably like the corn back there, too. Yummy dinner."
Gator pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales shallowly. "Um... yeah. Listen, sunshine, it's gonna get dark soon, why don't you lemme give you a ride back into town?"
"I'll be fine," you wave him off, kicking your shoes off to reveal your ankle length socks. "I walked out here, 'm fine to walk home."
"You walked— Jesus, we're like a half an hour from Lehigh—"
"Shhhhh," you interrupt, pressing a finger to his lips. Gator's eyes widen. "The bunnies!"
"Right," he mutters, though the word is slightly muffled by your digit. He leans back on his hands and lets out another sigh, wishing the taste of your skin would linger on his lips a little bit longer. "Guess I'll stay out here with you and, uh... wait for 'em, then."
"Oh, you like bunnies, too, Gator?" you ask happily, a grin spreading across your face.
“All guys love boobs and ass,” Steve’s pathetic attempt to not eye your body fails, his avoidance of the word ‘tits’ so he doesn't sound like a total douchebag only makes the feeling worse. “Doesn’t matter what you look like. The key is wearing something flattering.”
He picks up a lacy, light blue set and tries not to think about how incredible it would look on you. The fact that he’s not the one you’re trying to impress poisons his every thought. But if being a good friend means sucking it up to help you find lingerie ‘a guy would like’ so be it. When you’d leaned against the permanently sticky counter at Scoops Ahoy and asked for his help during your shared lunch break, Steve’s head almost exploded.
“Is that why you always wear jeans that are a size too small? Because they’re flattering?”
The jab doesn’t bother him as much as it would if it came from anyone else. Steve just rolls his eyes, searching for something that feels like you, which involves picturing your body in anything and everything that catches his eye. A particularly racy set with high-cut panties that would show off your thighs perfectly makes his cock twitch in his shorts. Thinking about his best friend in his way isn’t healthy, and he knows it, yet he can’t stop. And it’s not like he can stop thinking about you under normal circumstances either. Even when you’re both in the objectively hideous Scoops Ahoy uniforms, his fantasies run wild.
“What about this one?” You hold a simple black set up to your body. “Or is it too boring?”
Jesus Christ. It is boring, but somehow the thought of you wearing it still gets Steve going.
“It’s less boring than Allen,” Steve grins.
A tag scratches his skin as you smack him with one of the bras in your hand, “He’s a sweetheart.”
’A sweetheart’ isn’t the way Steve would describe Allen Barrows, but he bites his tongue. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy. The mantra becomes less true every time he repeats it. Each minute that passes brings you closer to the end of your shift when Steve will have to watch Allen whisk you off for a night he doesn’t deserve.
“I should probably try these on before you hand me the whole store.”
Steve chuckles, trailing behind you to the dressing rooms tucked in the back of the store. He forces his eyes down to the floor after you slip into one of the stalls, pretending not to notice the gap between the curtain and the wall that gives him a perfect view of your reflection in the shitty mirror. It would be perverted to watch. But the store is almost entirely empty, and it’s not like you would notice, right? Steve gives in before he can talk himself out of it. Your tits are the first sight he’s met with, bare as you pick up the first bra he picked out for you. No one should look as perfect as you do.
He tampers his growing erection by imagining your disgust if you caught him in the act, your rejection if he ever dared to make a move. Losing you isn’t worth it. The one person who truly enjoys his company, the best addition to his life since ’83.
The dressing room curtain rustles leading Steve to avert his eyes again. You step out, avoiding his gaze as you awkwardly twirl in nothing but a bra and panties.
“What do you think?”
Steve coughs, trying to cover up his surprise, “You look great.”
You nod before slipping back behind the curtain, pulling it flush with the wall, taking away Steve’s preview. You’re in the dressing room for a few minutes longer this time. Those few minutes allow Steve’s mind to run wild. He’s considering hiding in a dressing room to jerk off when you step out again.
“This one is really hot,” you pause, adjusting the bra’s position on your chest. “You have good taste, Steve.”
“Finally, some appreciation,” Steve chuckles, his face burning; you must be aware of the effect you have on him. There’s no way you aren’t. “You look like a dream.”
You bow your head, staring down at the carpet. Steve moves in closer, sliding a hand around your exposed waist.
“Is this okay?”
He’ll stop if you tell him to, no matter how much he wants this.
“Yes,” you whisper. “I was actually hoping this would happen.”
“I didn’t know you were such a tease,” he cups your cheek in his hand, guiding your face to look back up at him.
You laugh and Steve thinks the sound adds 10 years to his lifespan, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Harrington.”
“If you cancel your date with Allen, you can show me everything. I’ll call him for you, scare him off for good. Want you all to myself,” Steve murmurs.
“I’ll call him. You could pay for this, though,” you gesture to the lingerie set you’re wearing.
Steve leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, stirring up every feeling that’s been growing inside him, “My wallet’s already set, honey.”
A/N: This is inspired by my post about Scoops Ahoy being next to the lingerie store! I finally wrote it after thinking about Scoops!Steve and butts lmao.
omg i completely forgot about that so sorry😭😭i’ve already written a somewhat good chunk of it, but there’s still more to add and i wanna make it EXTRA lengthy .. i’ve had tons of summer work and im still trying to manage a job search as well🥹 the second i am free, trust i will work on it❤️❤️❤️
You've been washing Steve Harrington's car all summer long but one hot July afternoon, you finally decide to tease him back.
pairing: steve harrington x reader
words: 3.6k
contains: (18+ smut!! minors dni) porn with very little plot, perv!steve, needy!steve, hint of sub!steve, steve fantasying about reader, nipple play, light temperature play, teasing, lots and lots of teasing, inappropriate use of a hose, mutual masturbation, semi-public masturbation, praise kink, steve likes being called a good boy, horse cock harrington, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader.
author's note: back here again with another instalment of 'this was meant to be a blurb but i wrote too much'. hope you guys enjoy this shameless summery smut! ❤️🔥
to be added to my 18+ taglist | masterlist | requests page
Steve Harrington had lost count of how many times that he had been to Suds & Shine car wash over the past two months. In his defence, he liked to take good car of his car and maybe—just maybe—he liked to look at the woman who washed it for him.
He swears it had started as a completely innocent thing. Just a guy needing to wash his car after stupidly letting Max Mayfield encourage him to do doughnuts in the dirt. But when he had pulled up and saw it was you—the once quiet, slightly awkward girl who used to sit behind him in math class, apparently picking up extra shifts at your dad's car wash for the summer—he no longer really cared about his car. Not when he could see the baby pink of your bikini through your soaked shirt.
His car had a habit of getting pretty dirty very quickly after that.
It was a roasting hot July afternoon when Steve Harrington's all too familiar maroon beamer pulled into the lot.
You had been leaning against some of the old tyres piled up outside of your dad's office, reading Hollywood Wives while you remained in the shade. You were sure that it was shaping up to be the hottest day of the year and your dad had left you to man the wash by yourself.
Thankfully, it had been a relatively quiet day and now, you wouldn't have your dad watching your every move while you interacted with Steve. The thought of him alone with him made your body tingle.
"Hey, stranger," you greet him with a warm smile as he rolls his window down—that easy smile on his handsome face making your heart thump in your chest. "Fancy seein' you here again. Only been a few days, that has got to be a new record."
Steve laughs, hoping that you don't see the way the tips of his ears have turned red. He was very aware that he had been at the wash only a few days prior but it was hot and he wanted an excuse to see you, see your body dripping with suds and water. Even the thought of seeing the pebbled peaks of your nipples through your white vest top was enough to make his cock stir beneath his shorts.
"Yeah um, fuckin' bird took a shit on my bonnet so figured I should get it cleaned again," Steve explains, grinning at you like he definitely had not been rehearsing that excuse on the drive over as he opens his door and climbs out of his car.
Your mouth feels a little dry when you see the red shorts he was wearing, the ones that stretched deliciously over his thighs. Then there was the white tank top he wore, one that gave you a perfect peak at the dark hair that adorned his chest, one that showed those incredible biceps of his and displayed his skin tanned from the sun, peppered with freckles and moles that you wanted to explore with your mouth.
You're quick to pull yourself back to the present, your eyes flickering down to the small splatter of white and dark brown on the bonnet that you can't help but smile at. You could see right through this guy.
"Of course. Can't have that, can we?" you say with a wry smile before turning around so that you could bend down to grab a large bucket full of cleaning supplies that waited beside the tyres, allowing Steve to look shamelessly at your ass as you did.
You busy yourself with grabbing the rest of the gear—the hose, the wash mitts, wheel brushes and a spare bucket while Steve watches, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you lean down to fill up one of the buckets with soapy water, which allows him a clear view of your cleavage. He feels his traitorous cock swelling beneath his shorts already.
"So," you begin as you start by cleaning off the bird shit on the bonnet with a wet rag. "You got any plans this evening, Harrington?"
"Um," Steve begins, adjusting his stance so that you didn't see the growing bulge forming beneath his shorts. "Yeah. I um, I have a date."
Steve did not know what had possessed him to say those words. He did not, in fact, have a date tonight. In actuality, Steve had been planning to head straight home after the wash and fist his cock thinking about your tits in that tank top. But he couldn't tell you that.
You falter for the briefest of seconds when he mentions he was going on a date, something that felt an awful lot like disappointment swirling in your gut. You had thought, perhaps stupidly, that Steve might actually like you. That perhaps he was soon going to pluck up the courage and ask you out. But no, Steve Harrington was going on a date tonight with someone who wasn't you.
For a moment, you remain quiet. Despite the confidence you had gained from the years after high school, despite the fact you were no longer an awkward teenager, you found yourself feeling the way that you did back then. Inadequate. Not enough for a hot jock like Steve.
"Sounds fun. Hope you have a good time," you say finally as you finish scrubbing up the bird mess from the bonnet before you bend down to start cleaning the wheels.
You would have cleaned the rest of his car in complete silence, would have let the thought of him going on a date remain on your mind the entire wash. But then you remembered that you were completely alone with Steve and that you weren't the same shy, quiet girl you were in high school.You were a grown woman.
And so, if you wanted to fuck with him a little before his little date—you could do so.
You finish cleaning the wheels and tyres before you stand up straight, glancing over your shoulder to see Steve looking at you. You smile at him sweetly before turning your attention back to his car.
You grab the hose, turning it on to give his car a pre-rinse of loose dust and dirt (one that wasn't at all necessarily, considering he had only had his car washed on Monday) before you look over at him again.
"It's pretty fuckin' hot today," you comment, glancing up at the sun that was beating down on your exposed skin.
"Yeah," Steve says, a little distracted by the image he had of himself kissing up your exposed neck, of him licking the sweat off your skin as his hands roam all over your body, his hands slipping beneath those denim shorts and finding you already soaking wet—
Steve shakes his head, trying to stop his imagination from derailing any further and making his cock any harder than it already was.
"Yeah. It is really hot."
God—now he was stating the fucking obvious. He wondered what the hell had happened to the guy who once only needed to smile at a girl for her to drop her panties for him.
Oh yeah—you happened.
It was quiet again then, the only sounds being the water dripping onto the beamer. You lean unnecessarily over the front bonnet, not bothering to pull your shorts down as they ride up the backs of your thighs, exposing the very bottom of your ass cheeks for Steve to gawk at. Which he does—shamelessly.
You switch off the hose, grabbing the spray nozzle from the supply bucket and twisting it onto the hose pipe before you turn to look at a very flustered looking Steve.
"Did you mind if I take my top off?" You ask him, tilting your head to the side with a sickly sweet smile as you watch Steve's eyes widen. "Don't worry, I have a bikini on underneath. It's just—it's really hot—"
"—y-yes,” Steve stutters out quickly, breathless with want, heat prickling up his neck that had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with you. “Ye-eah, if it’s hot for you then I don’t—”
The words die on his tongue, in fact, any coherent thought that Steve has disappears at the sight of you pulling your tank top off over your head. The sight of the cherry red bikini you were wearing beneath was nothing short of torture for Steve. Your tits looked—fuck—incredible, the material of your bikini hugging your breasts perfectly and making Steve’s shorts feel way too tight.
You could see Steve’s reaction. It was hard not to miss the large tent that had formed at the front of his red shorts. You can’t help but look because you had heard so many rumours over the years about how big Steve Harrington’s cock was and now—now you could see the clear, thick outline of it through those shorts of his. The undeniable evidence that yes, Steve Harrington’s cock was fucking huge.
And fuck, if the sight of it didn’t make your pussy throb.
You turn the hose on, switching to the soft shower setting as you spray Steve’s car like you weren’t already thinking of your next move, thinking about a way to make Steve Harrington lose his damn mind.
“Just gonna—try and cool down a bit,” you tell Steve, turning to face him with the hose still spraying water in your hand.
Steve blinks back at you, too dazed, too turned on to really understand anything you were saying to him. He just nods, his lips parting as he tries to form a reply.
But you don’t wait for him to do so.
You raise the hose above your head, letting the spray drench your upper body. It was cold and you let out a small, satisfied moan at the feeling of the water cooling your too hot skin. You feel the goosebumps forming over your skin, feel your nipples harden beneath the material of your bikini and you can’t help but look over at Steve to gauge his reaction. When you see him looking at you like you were the most delicious thing he had ever laid eyes on, you don’t hesitate to lower the spray directly onto your breasts.
The cold water hitting your tits directly makes you squeal, coupled with the feeling of your sensitive peaks rubbing against the material of your bikini makes something hot surge through your body.
“Feels s’good,” you moan out, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you tilt your head back, feeling the water drip down over your stomach and into your denim shorts.
You can’t see Steve but you certainly hear the way he takes in a shuddering breath.
You switch the hose off, glancing down at your bikini top that was now completely soaked through, your perked nipples poking through the material and making Steve forget every single word in the English language.
“I b-bet it d-does,” Steve manages to say, his throat feeling too tight, his cock now so hard that it was almost painful. “Ni-nice and w-wet, huh?”
“Yeah, huh,” you smile at him, your eyes dropping back down to the bulge that had formed his shorts for the briefest of seconds before you look back up at his stupidly handsome face. “I’m so wet, Stevie.”
Steve lets out a noise—something that almost sounded like a whimper and the sound goes straight to your throbbing cunt.
“T-that so?” Steve asks, his hands now twitching with the effort it was taking him to not palm himself over his shorts, to give himself some relief from the aching he was feeling from between his thighs. He could feel himself leaking already. You just looked so fucking hot, your top half completely drenched, water dripping down the valley of your breasts and your fucking nipples—
You let out a small tut, glancing down at your denim shorts that were also now beginning to drip with water.
“These might have to come off too,” you hum, your fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of the denim and causing Steve’s eyes to nearly bulge out of his head. “Is that okay with you, Stevie?”
Steve can only nod, completely unable to form a sentence as your words finally register.
“Words, Stevie,” you tell him, one of your hands trailing upwards, gliding over your wet skin to cup one of your breasts over your bikini. “Be a good boy and use your words.”
You weren’t entirely sure what had gotten into you. Sure, the car wash wasn’t in the middle of town but you were still very much at risk for getting caught if another customer pulled in. But maybe it was the heat finally getting to you or maybe it was the fact that Steve Harrington was stood less than eight feet away from you, hard as a fucking rock all because you decided to fuck with him.
And you certainly weren’t going to stop now.
“Yes,” Steve grits out finally, his jaw tight as he watches you roll your nipple between two fingers, pleasure blooming across your face at the sensation. “Yes, please—fuck—take ‘em off too.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” you hum, your hands returning to the waistband of your shorts to unbutton them.
Steve Harrington had never looked so desperate. You watch, your shorts pooling at your feet, as Steve runs one of his large hands through his hair, fingers tugging at the strands as though that would offer him some kind of relief.
“You good, Stevie?” You ask him as you switch the hose back on, blasting a spray of cold water to your stomach, causing your body to jolt and sending a shot of pleasure through your body. You were so ridiculously turned on, cleaning Steve’s car was at the very back of your mind as you felt heat pooling between your thighs. That feeling, almost like molten lava surging directly to your core, made any rational thought leave your mind entirely.
“You can touch yourself y’know,” you tell him, your own voice completely breathless, mostly from the cold water spraying over your warm skin but also from the fact Steve Harrington was looking at you as though he wanted nothing more than to devour you.
Steve groans—he actually fucking groans—at your words, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as one of his hands rest on his soft tummy, tugging it up slightly and revealing a dark trail of hair that disappeared into his shorts. That sight made your cunt clench around nothing.
“You sure?” Steve asks you, his hips bucking upwards in a not so subtle way, trying to seek some relief. “I don’t—I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
You almost roll your eyes, he was being so kind, so considerate and so Steve that you felt your heart beat a little faster in your chest.
But you also wanted him to take a fucking hint.
“Touch yourself,” you tell him, switching the setting on the nozzle with one hand as the other directs the spray directly towards your covered cunt. “I want you to watch me and I want you to touch yourself.”
Steve didn’t even have time to comprehend what you were about to do, didn’t have time to prepare himself for what was about to happen. And so, the moment that you move the hose between your legs, directing the spray right against your covered clit—that was the moment Steve Harrington lost all sense of control.
Steve lets out a loud, shameless groan of your name, a sound that you hope you would never forget before he hastily tugs down his shorts, his boxers quick to follow.
Nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for the first sight of Steve Harrington’s cock. It was fucking beautiful. Long, thick and impossibly heavy. The audible smack that it made as it slaps against his soft tummy makes your mouth feel dry. You couldn’t help but notice how the ruddy tip was leaking, how precum was dribbling down a vein that bulged down his length.
“You’re so fucking big, Stevie,” you tell him, completely breathless as you press the nozzle against your clothed cunt, a moan slipping out as the pressure hits your swollen clit and causing your thighs clench around the hose. “S’fucking big.”
“Fuck,” He groans, one hand gripping the stack of tyres beside him to steady himself while the other wraps around the base of his thick cock. “You’re so fucking hot, I—”
Whatever Steve was about to say was almost entirely drowned out by the sound of his own moan as he began to stroke his cock. The sight was truly something to marvel at. His handsome face twisted in pleasure as he began to fuck his fist, the hair he had been famous for in high school now falling in front of his eyes, completely dishelved as he lost himself in watching you continue to press the nozzle between your thighs, watching your tits bounce with every movement and listening to the sweet sounds of pleasure falling from your lips.
“Look at you, Stevie,” you gasp out, a smile tugging on your lips as you watch him pump his thick cock desperately, his eyes darting between the nozzle between your thighs and your face contorted with pleasure. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?”
He whimpers. King Steve, Steve the hair Harrington fucking whimpers at your words and you swear, you could had gotten off to that sound alone.
“Yes,” he groans out, his hand twisting as he reaches the tip of his cock, hips canting up into every stroke. “Only for you, baby.”
Your stomach tightened. Your body felt as though it was burning, pleasure was surging through every cell in your body at the pet name. You wanted nothing more than to drop the damn hose, get on your knees and take Steve’s cock into your mouth until your jaw ached. But you couldn’t give him what he wanted. Not yet anyway.
But you needed more, you needed something because you were so close and you knew Steve was too. You could hear it in those small groans and whimpers he was letting out, could see it in the way he was biting down on his bottom lip so much that he was in danger of drawing blood.
And so, you lean back against his car, one hand pulling the nozzle slightly away from your body as the other tugs down your bikini bottoms, exposing your soaked cunt to the hot summer air.
Steve looks as though he was in physical pain from holding back as he gets a full view of your glistening wet pussy. You watch, heart hammering, as his tongue swipes along his lower lip, as though he was desperate for a taste.
But you wouldn’t give him that—you just wanted to give him something to remember when he was on that fucking date tonight.
You direct the water directly against your clit and the moan you let out surely could have been heard from miles away. Pleasure shoots through you, so intense that you had to grab onto Steve’s car behind you with your free hand so you wouldn’t lose your footing.
“Stevie,” you gasp out, your hips jerking upwards as you chase that feeling again. “Stevie, are you—”
“—yeah,” Steve groans out, the wet sounds of him fucking his fist with his precum meeting your ears and making the heat burning inside of you feel even more intense. “Yeah, baby. I’m—I’m s’fucking close. Gonna cum. Gonna cum fuckin’ watching you. You’re so fuckin’ good. So fuckin’ hot, baby.”
You mewl out, white hot pleasure consuming you as cold water blasted against your swollen clit. It was too much, the pressure, the fact that Steve Harrington was fucking watching you, that he was getting off and that you weren’t even fucking touching. It was so hot. It was so fucking hot and you could feel the pressure—building, building, building and—
Steve lets out a sound, one that was almost animalistic in its desperation. And you watch as he spills white ropes of his cum down onto the hot concrete and the sight of how much fucking cum was coating the asphlat was what tipped you right over the edge with him.
You let out a wanton moan, one that ripped from the very back of your throat, one that you felt deep within your bones. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your thighs shook, your release mixing with the water being sprayed from the nozzle and Steve’s name fell from your lips like it belonged there.
You didn’t know how long both of you stood there—you still leaning against Steve’s car for support and Steve bracing himself against the tyres. All you knew was that when you finally found the courage to look over at Steve—you found that he was already looking right at you.
“I don’t actually have a date tonight,” he tells you, leaning down to pull up his shorts and boxers that he pooled at his feet while you mirror his actions, switching off the hose and tugging your bikini bottoms back up. “I don’t—I don’t know why I told you that I did but I—”
“—do you want one?” You ask him, your voice still a little breathless from the intensity from your orgasm.
Steve blinks, seemingly confused at your words as he looks at you quizzically. “I don’t know what you—”
It then seems to hit him, he seems to understand the meaning of your words and the smile that breaks out across his face was so breathtakingly beautiful that you couldn’t look away.
And when he takes a step closer, you feel as though he has stolen the air from your lungs.
“With you?” Steve asks softly, leaning in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, fingers then lingering on the warm skin of your cheek. “Of course I fucking do.”
Reader wearing a tinyyyy bikini and steve and Eddie can’t keep their eyes off her. Followed by the filthiest mmf smut on the beach 😋
Omg they would be so mean about it too.
It definitely happens at Lovers Lake too-so hot that everyone else chose to stay inside or go to the pool instead of the lake. Less people, less heat, it’s simple!
Less fabric also means less heat, Steve is the first to comment on it when he notices just how skimpy the bikini is. “What exactly do you think you’re covering?” He teases while rubbing sunscreen across your arm. “Doesn’t matter” Eddie mumbles, already leaning in and kissing at the shoulder opposite of where Steve was. “‘S not like it’s gonna be on for much longer anyways.”
Eddie was right about it too. At first they just took turns teasing and rubbing you-they had switched from rubbing sun lotion, to just groping what the fabric covered. Eddie managed to convince you that he should get to go first-that he deserved to fuck you before Steve. He’s practically the same length of Steve-half an inch and less girth-but it still felt too good. The thin beach towel kept your hands and knees from getting dirty, but Eddie’s words made their own kind of filth. “Fuck, you feel good..see, Steve? You aren’t the only good fuck in town.” His words only provoked Steve. Annoyance and irritation that he took out on you.
“Look-You’re frustrating her” Steve mumbles as he feeds his cock deeper into your mouth. “Me? She’s only chocking because of you-” arguing while fucking you. Eddie only slowed so you could briefly focus on Steve, but he never really stopped moving. “Oh, baby..” they tease, gently brushing your hair from your face before they both began to move. “Fuckk, listen to her..she’s been needing this, hm?” Steve whispers the teases through moans, his mouth dropping open when you whine around him because of Eddie picking up the pace. “Shh-Shhh..you can take it!” He grunts out, his hand pushing the back of your head so you could take Steve all the way “‘s gonna be a long night for you, baby. ‘S what happens when you dress like that!”
Eddie hates to be told what to do unless it's you telling him what to do.
He finds it stimulating, receiving orders from you, even the smallest commands.
"Go get me another drink, will you?"
He's already scrambling in his steps to get your empty bottle as you hand it to him without even sparing him a glance.
He doesn't need you to, and he's already on his way to the kitchen to fetch you another drink.
"Hey. Turn it down a little.", you grimace, massaging your ear after he decides it's a great idea to blast music as he drives you around town. He hurries to turn the volume down, visibly distressed from distressing you.
"Slow down. Do you want to get fined?"
You roll your eyes at him, and he shakes his head rapidly, immediately steering slower. Wouldn't be the first time for him, but he doesn't want something like that to happen in front of you. It's embarrassing enough as it is... But in front of you? No thanks.
"Hey." you snap your fingers twice. "Were you listening? I said you're carrying these now, I'm getting tired."
And you hand him the shopping bags you had told him he was going to carry for the rest of the spree. But you can't really blame him, for your cleavage was right on his view and he got a little distracted.
He doesn't protest, though. Eddie knows he's in for a treat if he does as you say, so his fingers close around the handles of the multiple bags you've gotten, following close to you.
"You take them off, yeah?"
You're laying on your bed, half naked, smirking down at him as your hips just barely lift from the bed, and he's quick to mutter a 'yes, ma'am' before his fingers are eagerly peeling your panties off to reveal his favorite meal.
The worst —or best part, is that you don't even need to say 'please'.
Not out of rudeness, nor out of poor manners, but because it kills the entire purpose. And what is worse is that Eddie doesn't want you to.
He's pathetic, gets hard when you get bossy, so hearing you say 'please' makes him feel like you're asking for a favor, a favor you could ask anyone.
But you're bossing him around, you're telling him what to do. Thinking logically, it's degrading, what he's doing. But thinking with the other head, this is everything he's ever wished for, and he didn't even know that about himself.
Who is he to protest when a pretty girl is bossing him around? He gets pussy at the end of the day, and the praising he gets is the cherry on top.
So he always scoffs— protests when it's other people trying to do the same, purposefully messing things up to not be asked for anything again.
But when it's your wish, he makes a point to let you know that it's his command. He does it perfectly so you keep them coming.
And right now, with his head shoved between your thighs and your fingers knotted in his curls, you push him closer, making his ears perk up at the sounds he's eliciting from you.
"F-faster. Just a little faster, Eds. Yes?"
He groans against you, and can only mutter a well-trained: "Yes, ma'am".
ᰔ jerking virgin!eddie off. you’re behind him, frilly canopy cocooning you both as your fist experimentally stroked. he’s biting hard on his bottom lip with knitted brows.
your chin is a warm presence atop his shoulder. it isn’t exactly unwelcome, but it’s throwing his senses even more askew. he’s already embarrassed by how much he’s bucking into your warm touch so he attempts to keep his mouth zipped. you’re having none of it.
you squeeze just beneath the rosy tip on one specific upstroke which has a heavy breath coming out of his nose, eyes falling shut. it’s followed by a whimpering sound deep in his chest.
“there we go…” you murmur, nuzzling the spot behind his ear. “don’t gotta be so quiet.”
summary: a melting hawkins afternoon, one dripping ice cream cone, and steve’s eyes that can’t look away.
warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, dry humping, heavy sexual tension, best friends to lovers, public risk (car), swearing. not proofread.
the summers in hawkins were unbearable. the pavement burned through the thin soles of your shoes, and the sun pressed down so heavy it felt like it was melting everything it touched. your light tank top and shorts clung to your skin, offering no relief. you hated summer. in winter you could bundle up and escape the cold. here, even breathing felt like swallowing fire.
“i can’t believe i followed your stupid idea of getting in the car,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your forehead. “it’s literally hotter here than inside the mall.”
“it wasn’t an idea,” steve shot back, wiping his own sweaty palms on his jeans. “it was a suggestion.” his blue t-shirt was turning darker in patches, sticking to his chest. “and i said: maybe the car is colder because we parked it under a tree.”
“do you know what maybe means?” he added.
“yeah genius, but didn’t you think about something called sun that moves?” you replied.
“okay okay, eat your ice cream. i don’t want this baby getting sticky and covered with vanilla.” he gave up, knowing he’d never win an argument with you.
“it’s hot and we’re eating ice cream, steve. i can’t promise anything,” you shrugged.
his eyebrows stayed furrowed, eyes locked on every little movement you made. he thought you didn’t notice, but he was already clutching a wad of napkins, ready to wipe away any drip before it could touch the leather.
you loved pissing him off. two years of friendship and you still never got tired of it. he was funnier when he got grumpy, and he was used to it. he’d act annoyed for a minute, then be laughing at your dumb jokes three minutes later.
this summer you’d both decided to find jobs. you and robin teased him endlessly about not needing the money, but he insisted. he wanted to prove he could do it without leaning on his parents. robin had already landed something at the supermarket but steve hated the uniform and the pay, so the two of you kept applying to new places every monday like clockwork.
somehow you’d ended up at the ice cream shop, and now you had to deal with steve’s neat-freak ass and his obsession with keeping his car extremely clean.
“relax your annoying ass. it’s not my fault your big mouth devoured your cone a second after we got out of the mall.”
“i’m not gonna say anything else, but i swear if you mess it up, you’re cleaning it,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair. wet brown strands clung to his forehead.
“i’m not cleaning anything. especially not so you can keep showing off to your failed dates. it gives me secondhand embarrassment,” you laughed.
“one: those are not failed dates. and two, you only say that because you’re clearly jealous.”
“oh my god, you definitely have heatstroke. you’re literally talking nonsense now,” you said, bursting into laughter.
“i’m not making anything up. you only say that when you don’t have an argument against me and i’m just noticing a pattern.”
your smile faded a little. he had never gone there before, even when you teased him constantly. the words made your stomach flip with a nervousness you didn’t want to name.
of course he was your friend. that was the title you gave everyone else. but you spent every day together, crashed at each other’s houses, shared everything. nothing suspicious.
still, when he said it, your brain short-circuited. the silence that followed stretched on for a bit too long.
you cleared your throat and changed the subject, desperate to save your own sanity. you didn’t notice the way he was staring at you the whole time, waiting for a real answer.
“stop talking and listen,” you said after an awkward pause. “we have to check this new shop near the park. molly just told me they’re hiring. i don’t know what for but—” you kept talking, dragging the little plastic spoon through the softening ice cream and licking it slowly.
steve wasn’t listening anymore.
his mouth was still slightly open, shiny and pink from the flavor he’d finished earlier. you felt a cool shiver run down your spine despite the suffocating heat. you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away before your thoughts wandered somewhere they shouldn’t. he was staring straight at your lips.
you kept avoiding his eyes, trying to focus on talking, until the melted cream started running down your arm. “oh fuck,” drops of vanilla slid onto your thighs. you reacted fast, licking every streak from your skin, then opening your mouth to catch the falling scoop.
your tongue passed over your sticky fingers, cleaning them, before finally circling your cold, sweet lips.
when you glanced up, steve wasn’t complaining about the mess. his eyes were fixed on you.
he turned his head sharply, tapping the steering wheel, then shifted awkwardly and looked out the window.
the silence stretched too long, again.
“what are you getting weird for?” you asked, finishing the last bite of the cone.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“you know what i mean. why are you suddenly quiet and not yelling at me for almost ruining your car?”
“it doesn’t matter. can we go?” he reached for the keys, but you stopped him. your hand, still a little sticky, wrapped softly around his wrist. “why won’t you even look at me idiot? i’m serious.”
he wiped his hands, and your eyes followed unconsciously.
that’s when you saw it.
the obvious bulge straining against his jeans. heat flooded your cheeks, hotter than the sun outside. sweat slid down between your breasts, but this time it had nothing to do with the weather.
you gulped and looked at him. his t-shirt clung to every line of his chest like a second skin. the few inches between you suddenly felt impossibly small.
when he finally met your eyes, his pupils were blown wide.
people would call you a liar if you said you’d never noticed how attractive steve was. how broad his back looked when he stretched, how his biceps strained against those tight shirts. knowing you’d caused this reaction in him made your head spin.
“steve…” you breathed. you quickly glanced outside. the street was empty; it was the worst hour of a summer afternoon. no one was stupid enough to be out.
“fuck, i’m sorry, i don’t know why—” he started, hands moving nervously, but you weren’t listening anymore.
you bit your lip, then moved without thinking. you straddled him, settling on his lap. the sound that left steve’s mouth sent shivers through you. his body burned under yours, skin slick with sweat.
you slid your hands down his damp chest. he tensed, hips lifting instinctively to meet you.
“shit,” he moaned softly. his hands settled firm and sure on your lower back, holding you close like he’d been waiting years for permission.
“what are we doing?” he asked, eyes dropping to your lips before finding yours again. “i don’t know—” you struggled, because he kept moving, pressing his hard cock right against your core. “you’re the one who had a little problem down there,” you teased breathlessly. he smirked, and you laughed, the sound shaky with want. “says the one on top of me right now.” his hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter.
you couldn’t wait any longer, so you kissed him, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other slipped into his hair. when he pulled back for air, looking around nervously, you rolled your hips slow and deliberate. “someone could walk by and se—fuck.”
“we’re the only idiots trying to get heatstroke in the middle of the street, steve.” you kissed him again, deeper. that was all it took. he opened his mouth, tongue sliding against yours, turning the kiss messy and desperate. the salt on his lips mixed with the lingering sweetness of ice cream. your hips ground together, pulling soft, needy sounds from both of you.
“god, you feel so fucking good.” he murmured against your mouth. one hand stayed on your hip guiding you, while the other cupped the back of your neck, pressing your foreheads together.
his other hand tugged at your soaked tank top; you helped him pull it off and did the same with his shirt. your palms slid over his bare biceps, squeezing the firm muscles as you moved faster.
your lips brushed with every shared breath, every gasp. you clenched around the hard press of him, desperate for more. he thrust up harder, chasing friction. the heat started pooling low in your belly, almost burning.
steve set a rhythm, steady and deep, like he never wanted it to end.
“i’m close,” he whispered into your mouth.
“me too,” you breathed, blood buzzing under your skin.
he gripped your ass again, helping you move exactly how you both needed. “just like that… oh god.” his head fell back against the seat, neck exposed and shining with sweat. you kissed along his throat until the pleasure crashed over you. “fuck,” you moaned, hips stuttering as waves rolled through you. steve kept going, chasing his own release until his body tensed and trembled beneath you, a soft whine pressed into your ear.
you stayed like that, foreheads together, breathing each other in while the car windows fogged from the heat of your bodies. the tension melted away, and suddenly you both burst into laughter, giddy and a little dazed.
you left a small, sweet peck on his lips.
he kissed you again, slower this time, cupping your jaw gently while his other hand rubbed soothing circles on your sticky back.
outside, the sun kept beating down, but for once the heat felt perfect.
Summary: On a lazy couch night, you playfully explore your chatty boyfriend Travis soft dick while he keeps up his nonstop teasing banter.
Word count: 2.4K
Warnings: NSFW, smut, established relationship, domestic fluff, soft penis play, detailed genital descriptions, cum eating, oral sex (m/receiving), tiny bit of titties play
A/N: what do I need to wish for to get a Travis by my side? Pleaaaase I want one urgh
———————————· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·———————————-
———————————· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·———————————-
You and Travis had been together long enough that evenings like this felt like second nature, cozy, familiar, and effortlessly domestic. The two of you were sprawled across the big sectional in your apartment, the TV flickering with some action movie he’d picked out earlier. Empty takeout containers sat on the coffee table, and Travis was already in full chatterbox mode, legs stretched out, one arm draped lazily behind you. The lamp in the corner cast a warm glow over everything, making the living room feel like your own little safe bubble.
“—and then the guy in the movie, right? He’s all ‘I’m gonna do this dramatic slow-mo reload’ but in real life? Nah. You’d fumble the magazine, drop the bullets everywhere, and the bad guys would just walk up and slap you silly,” Travis said, laughing at his own commentary. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose basketball shorts, his skin still warm from the shower he’d taken after work. His hair was a little messy, that signature Teacake charm radiating off him in waves. “I’m telling you, babe, Hollywood doesn’t get how chaotic real shit is. Remember that time we tried to assemble that IKEA shelf? Total disaster. I still have the bruise on my shin.”
You smiled, leaning into his side as a girl who knew every inch of her boyfriend’s body by heart. “You spent more time reading the instructions out loud like a podcast than actually building it.”
“Hey, communication is key!” he shot back, poking your ribs. His voice had that easy Southern lilt mixed with the fast-talking energy he carried everywhere. “You love it. Admit it. My running commentary makes life entertaining.”
“I do love it,” you admitted, turning to kiss his shoulder. The movie droned on, but neither of you was really paying attention anymore. Travis shifted, pulling you closer, his hand sliding down your back in slow, absentminded strokes.
After a few minutes, you glanced down at his lap, a playful idea sparking. You let your hand drift over his thigh, fingers tracing the hem of his shorts. Travis noticed immediately.
“Whoa, what’s this? You got that look again,” he teased, eyebrows raised. “The ‘I’m about to cause trouble’ look. Should I be worried? Excited? Both?”
You grinned. “Maybe both. Take these off?”
Without hesitation, Travis wiggled out of his shorts, kicking them somewhere toward the end of the couch. He settled back naked, completely at ease, legs parted comfortably. His soft, uncut cock rested against his thigh, nestled in a thick thatch of dark pubic hair that curled naturally around the base. The hair was soft and slightly tousled, spreading upward in a happy trail toward his navel and outward over his balls in a cozy, masculine patch that always felt so warm and inviting under your fingers. His dick looked completely relaxed, thicker and heavier when soft than most guys, the foreskin draping loosely over the head in a smooth, wrinkled sleeve that hid everything completely. It had a gentle downward curve even at rest, the skin a shade darker than the rest of him, with visible veins beneath the surface. The whole package looked soft and vulnerable, swaying slightly with his breathing.
“Why’d you wanna see it soft tonight?” he asked curiously, head tilted as he watched you. “Not that I’m complaining. You can look at me however you want, whenever you want. I’m an open book. Or open… whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely at himself, chuckling.
“Just wanted to,” you shrugged, scooting closer between his legs. The domestic ease of it all made your heart feel full. This was your boyfriend, your person, naked and chatting like it was any other Friday night on the couch.
“Can I touch it?”
Travis’s smile widened, warm and affectionate. “Yeah, totally! I just—I mean, I probably won’t stay soft after you start touching me… so like, just keep that in mind. Fair warning from your friendly neighborhood boyfriend. Biology’s a traitor sometimes.” He reached down and gave your hand a quick squeeze. “But go for it, babe. I’m all yours.”
You wrapped your fingers around his soft length, feeling the substantial weight of it even when completely relaxed. The pubic hair tickled your knuckles as you lifted it gently, the thick curls brushing your skin. It was so pliant, the loose foreskin sliding easily as you gave it a slow, exploratory stroke. You let it drop back down against his thigh with a soft smack, giggling at the way it bounced and settled heavily into the nest of hair.
Travis joined in the laughter, his belly shaking. “What are you doing down there? Playing whack-a-mole with my dick?” He poked your side again, making you squirm. “It looks funny, doesn’t it? All relaxed and innocent like it’s taking a nap in its little hair blanket. ‘Don’t mind me, just chillin’ here while my girl gets entertained.’”
“It does look funny,” you admitted, still smiling as you picked it up again. You rolled the soft shaft between your palms, feeling how it yielded completely, then traced the wrinkled foreskin with your fingertip, pulling it back just enough to peek at the hidden head before letting it slip back into place. His pubic hair was dense and springy, framing everything so perfectly, you ran your fingers through it, tugging lightly at the curls, then cupped his balls, which were equally covered in that soft dark hair.
While you played, Travis’s hand wandered up under your shirt in that casual, affectionate way of his. He cupped one of your breasts gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in light, playful circles, more fun and loving than heated. “These are cute as hell, you know that?” he murmured, giving a soft squeeze. “Perfect handfuls. I could just hold ‘em while you do your thing. Like multitasking. Boyfriend duties.” He chuckled, rolling your nipple between his fingers absentmindedly, keeping the touches light and teasing as you continued exploring his cock.
You stroked him more deliberately now, lifting and dropping, squeezing the soft girth so it bulged between your fingers before releasing. The foreskin moved fluidly, bunching up and smoothing out. Slowly, it started to respond, filling out, lengthening in your hand. The head began to peek from the foreskin as he stiffened, the skin stretching tighter. A bead of precum glistened at the tip, and you leaned in, licking it off with a slow swipe of your tongue. It tasted faintly salty and warm.
“Mmm, getting there,” Travis said breathily, still chatting away. “Feel that? You’re waking him up. God, your tongue on the tip like that—especially when there’s a little precum. So good. My pubic hair’s probably tickling your nose now, huh? Sorry, I keep meaning to trim it more, but you always say you like it natural.”
“I do,” you murmured, nuzzling into the thick hair at the base while your hand kept stroking. You pumped him slowly, watching the transformation: from that heavy, floppy softness to a firmer, thicker erection that curved upward, veins more prominent, the foreskin now retracting halfway down the flushed head. More precum leaked out, and you licked it up again, swirling your tongue around the exposed tip.
Travis groaned softly, but his hand stayed on your breast, squeezing and playing with it like a stress toy, gentle pinches and rolls that made you giggle against his skin. “These tits are distracting me in the best way. So soft. Hey, remember when we got matching hoodies last month? Yours looked way better with these underneath, babe. Just you, me, takeout, and now this. Life’s good.”
You continued playing for a long while, lost in the domestic intimacy. You slapped his hardening cock lightly against his thigh, watched it spring back up through the pubic hair, then stroked it firmly, pulling the foreskin all the way back and then sliding it forward again. You traced every vein, squeezed the base where the dark curls were thickest, and licked more precum as it steadily leaked, savoring the taste while Travis kept up his running commentary.
“You’re killing me in the best way,” he said, voice growing a little rougher. “The way you’re playing with it… lifting it, dropping it, licking up every little drop. My soft dick turning into this because of you. I love how you take your time. No rush. Just my girl enjoying herself. And these?” He gave your breasts another playful squeeze, thumb flicking your nipples. “They’re so fun to hold onto. Like built-in handles for boyfriend happiness.”
Eventually, you took him into your mouth, sucking gently at first on the head while your hand worked the shaft and toyed with his hairy balls. Travis’s hips twitched, his chatty nature flowing freely.
“Fuck—yeah, like that. Your mouth is so warm. Feels incredible. The precum thing? You licking it up every time it leaks? Driving me crazy in the hottest way. I’m close already. Can’t believe how fast you get me there. Love you so much for this. For everything. The way you make me feel wanted even when I’m just… me. Naked, yapping, dick in your mouth like it’s the most normal Friday night ever.”
You hummed around him, sucking harder, tongue focused on the sensitive head as more precum coated your tongue. Travis’s hand stayed on your chest, playing lightly with your tits as he got closer.
“Shit, babe—I’m gonna—yeah, right there—fuck—”
He came with a long groan, pulsing in your mouth as you swallowed. You kept sucking softly through it until he was oversensitive, then pulled off with a kiss to the tip, his cock softening again into that heavy, relaxed state amid the messy pubic hair.
Travis let out a deep, satisfied sigh and tugged you up into his arms. “C’mere, you. That was incredible. Ten out of ten. Michelin star blowjob. I’m ruined for all other evenings now.” He kissed your forehead, still naked and glowing.
You curled against his chest, both of you laughing softly. He stayed completely naked, skin warm against yours, his soft cock resting against his thigh once more. The movie was still playing, some explosion scene lighting up the room.
“Wanna keep watching?” you asked, tracing circles on his chest.
“Hell yeah,” Travis replied, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up a notch. He didn’t bother with clothes, just pulled a blanket over both of you and settled back, arm around your shoulders. “But first—debrief. How was that for you? Felt good? Any notes? I’m always taking feedback. Like, should I have been quieter? Nah, who am I kidding, that’s impossible for me.”
You snuggled closer, smiling. “It was perfect. I love when you talk through it.”
“Good, because I’ve got plenty more where that came from.” He kissed the top of your head, eyes drifting back to the screen. “Alright, movie time. Though I gotta say, this explosion looks way less impressive after what just happened. Real fireworks are in the bedroom. Or the couch. Or wherever you decide to play with me next.”
You both chuckled, the easy comfort wrapping around you like the blanket. Travis kept up a running commentary on the movie, voice soft and content, one hand idly stroking your arm. Naked, relaxed, and right where he belonged, chatting away while the night stretched on.
