𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 – 𝐜. 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨 (𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, +𝟏𝟖) | an oldie but a goodie. the song is nothing can change this love by sam cooke. warnings include language, carmen being scared of good things, bodily fluid (mentioned), subby!carmen, soft fdom!reader, edging, and blowjob(s), handjob(s). pretty please reblog with a thought if you liked! <3 (wc - 3.3k)
The request has his brain short-circuiting because what?
“I said dance with me, Carmen.”
The look on his face–eyes blown wide and wild, expression something close to startled–tugs your mouth into a grin.
“Dance?” His face pinches as he repeats the word that feels foreign falling off his tongue. He doesn’t dance. He’s never danced. “I don’t dance. I’ve never danced.”
You can only grin wider. Gosh, he’s cute. The way his curls fall into his face, the steam that previously soared off the pan of chicken that now sits in the oven you can thank for that. Carmen’s eyes–no. His electric, striking, bewitching orbs of Nordic stare into the depths of your very soul as you slink from your spot against the counter and ease over to him. They’re full of fascination and a little hesitancy, but he doesn’t flinch when you reach for his hands.
He glances down at the way your skin heats his. When he raises his gaze, you’re even closer. His tongue slips out to wet his bottom lip, and he quietly repeats, “I-I don’t dance, sweet thing. And the chicken, the foods in the oven, I gotta make sure it doesn’t–”
A gentle squeeze of his hard shoulder quiets him. He blows out a sigh.
“You just put it in, Bear,” you remind him, and he sighs again. “Please just indulge me for a little bit? Thirty seconds tops.”
Carmen sniffs, thinking. You take the second to start the song you’d queued up. The soft entrance of a slow, swinging piano and bass and guitar through a nearby speaker startles Carmy back into reality. His chest rises with a tight breath at the voice that fills the room, and his entire body stiffens when you politely guide him closer to you.
He focuses intently on the way your palms slide up his arms. You stop at his biceps and rub your thumbs in a calming motion.
“It’s just, I’ve never,” he tries, hands squeezing into tight fists, completely unsure. “Never done this before.”
You nod because you want him to know that you hear him.
“I know, Carm.” You keep nodding, grasp slipping to grab his stiff arms and pull them down. They take on a mind of their own, automatically settling onto your hips. “But all you have to do is sway, okay? Just sway for thirty seconds. If you don’t like it, we can stop.”
So that’s what he does. And he’s as tense as you’ve ever felt or seen him. But he indulges you. And sways for much longer than thirty seconds.
Carmy doesn’t even notice when his eyes close, forehead tilting to press into yours. His grip becomes a little more sure and the time that passes seems to seep all the rigidity of his body right out.
By the chorus of the song, the two of you are moving in an effortless sync. He’s nearly wrapped all the way around you now, body pressed against yours as the weight of him sinks against you. It isn’t until the guitar solo that he pries open his eyes, face warming when he realizes you’re already looking back.
“I like this song,” he finally mumbles, voice small. “What is it?”
“Nothing Can Change This Love,” you whisper back. “Sam Cooke. One off his ninth album, I think.”
Carmen hms with a little nod. “Sam Cooke.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
Carmen’s face lights up with a closed-mouth smile. You match him, body shaking with the huffing laugh that leaves you. When the song ends, neither of you has the strength to pull away. You stand with your arms around his neck. Only now registering that, despite the absence of any music, you’re still swaying. With Carmen leading.
“...Can, uh, can we keep dancin’? Just for a little longer?”
He doesn’t meet your gaze when he asks, eyes tilted downwards. Tightening your arms, you reach and press a long, sweet kiss on his jawline. His eyes threaten to flutter shut at the feeling.
“‘Course, Bear. What song?” You mumble against Carmen’s skin. He doesn’t answer right away, instead taking a finger under your chin and directing your mouth to his. Pausing in his dancing, the man kisses you deep, needy. He only pulls away when his lungs force him to, but only enough to shake his head.
“No song. Just you.”
The words pull forth a smile with your nod. Carmen, eyes dancing across every inch of your face, returns the smile shyly.
This time when you dance–to the muted sounds of a busy evening that pour in through a closed kitchen window, the low-frequency hum sung by the building's electrical system, and the breathing of two intertwined souls falling deeper in love–Carmen holds you even closer. Tighter, with his eyes closed once more and chin sitting atop the skin of your shoulder. You smell like him and you, a perfect mix of something familiar and something newer that makes him feel like he’s floating.
In the past, good things have always scared Carmen. They still do, as they always come along with uncertainty. Happiness, joy, enjoyment, good things never fail to backfire and leave him to deal with the unfavorable repercussions. Stuck in a place where he is forced to face the fact that he shouldn’t have good things. That he can’t have good things.
Yet, as he stands here, you in his arms and him in yours, the tranquil air of the room lowers his guard. The pleasant, happy feeling in his everywhere allows him to enjoy this. Enjoy you. Enjoy the safety you bring without any dreadful feelings trailing behind it. He’s sure they’ll come sometime later, but he doesn’t think about that now because he doesn’t need to. You’ve got him.
It’s later after a hearty dinner of chicken with vegetables and half an hour of you watching some rerun on the television while Carmen watches you, that he has enough courage gathered to bring up something that’s been on his mind.
“You, uh…” he begins, finger rubbing aimless circles into your thigh while he’s slumped against you, “you remember when we talked about that thing?”
Puffs of air pepper gently from your nose as you process the words. You turn your head to Carmen.
“What thing, baby?”
Carmen swallows, clearing his throat. He raises off you but doesn’t meet your gaze. His eyes stay trained on his hand where he squeezes your leg to steady himself.
“Uh. That thing we talked about last week? With the, uh, the stuff.”
Carmen bites his lip at your growing smile and pinched eyebrows. He even has to hold back a laugh himself because the way he’s trying to say this sounds so stupid.
“Sorry, the stuff. The… sex… stuff.”
His voice trails off into nothing as he finishes the sentence, neck reddening when he pushes out the words. He holds on bated breath when you shuffle and think.
“Oh,” you let out, voice light. Carmen finally regains the ability to breathe. “You mean the whole edging thing I asked you about?”
Carmy is nodding before you can even finish the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah, that… is-is tha–is that something you’d still be, uh, up for, I guess?”
You draw in a long exhale, eyes cemented on a fidgeting Carmen. After what feels longer than the seven seconds that pass, you give him a gentle nod.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you reassure him. “Can I ask you, though, why bring this up now, Bear? Not that I’m mad or grossed out or anything because I was the one that brought it up the first time. But what made you start thinking about it again?”
Carmen sighs and runs his fingers through his curls. He scratches the top of his head, pursing his lips before he speaks.
“When we, uh, we danced earlier? Before dinner? That was new, I’ve never really done something like that before, but it was nice. I really liked it, doing something new with you like that.”
As he continues, Carm’s voice becomes a little less wobbly. He sits up a little straighter and actually looks you in the eye.
“And it’s just, I-I feel good. I feel really good right now with you. I always feel good with you, and I think that, uh, I think that it–the sex thing–would be something I enjoy. With you. Because of how… how good you make me feel.”
A beat passes. Carmen scrunches his face. “Did that make sense?”
“Yeah, Carm. That makes perfect sense,” you smile, your hand reaching over to take his. His thumb strokes across the skin of your palm as he stares at you with an amount of love that has you shuddering. You pull your voice down to a whisper. “Thank you for telling me that.”
Carmen moves and pulls you closer. With an arm around your shoulder and lips pushing against your cheek, he whispers back, “Thank you for dancing with me. And for making me feel safe.”
“Love you, Bear.”
Carmen gifts you another kiss.
“Love you more, sweet girl.”
The sheets are soaked–with sweat or lube or something. Carmen is too far gone to know what, but he can feel them sticking to his back as he arches for a third time in the past minute. His hands–the ones he promises to keep lowered against the bed–are fisted tightly at his sides.
“Fuck,” Carmen drawls out, quivering and shaking because he’s so, so close. Teetering on a glorious, head-spinning edge, and has been for the past thirty minutes. “Fuck, sweet girl.”
You smile at the whimper that leaves Carmen’s throat. One of your hands is snug around the base of his cock, the other up near his sensitive head. His hips jerk violently when you run the pad of your thumb over and across his frenulum.
“I’m close, I’m close, I’m close,” Carmen rushes out, head back and eyes shut completely. “Shit, I’m close.”
You slow your movement, soon coming to a complete stop. Giving his shaft one last squeeze, you pull your hands away and move them to rub his clenching things. You lower yourself even further and rest your chin against his hot skin, pressing light kisses onto his sack.
“Color?”
Carmen can’t answer. Your mouth is so close to him that he can feel the air fan against his cock and it jumps at the sensation. Even with his eyes closed, he blinks and fucking barely remembers to swallow the spit collecting in his mouth. When he tries to respond, his own gasp cuts him off.
“Can’t keep going until I have a color, my love–”
“Green. Fucking green,” Carmen tells you. “And sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off, just-just please. Please keep going. Please.”
On his last please, he lifts his head to peek down at you. You’ve got such a pretty smile and your hands are still on his thighs and jeez, he feels so good. You make him feel so good, it burns.
All of the fluids mixing on Carmen’s skin has made him slick. You run your hands up and up and up until they reach his shining sack. Your thumb and pointer finger reach to form a make-shift cock-ring, and Carmen’s stomach rises with a large inhale.
Carmen’s eyes roll back lazily in his head, mouth falling open when your palm presses back against his cock. A choked groan pours from him as you start to stroke.
You make sure to move your hand as slowly as possible, and his body ends up rising and following you when you tug upwards. You repeat the motion again. And again. And again, each time a tiny groan leaves Carmen.
Your grip is gentle as you stroke Carmen and you find yourself unable to look away from the sight in front of you. He’s writhing, muscles tense and clenching, and wants so badly to fuck up into your hands. But he doesn’t and won’t. Not until you say he can.
“Oh, my God,” Carmen whispers, “feels so good. Can’t even talk.”
“Don’t have to talk, baby,” you promise him, hand speeding ever so slightly, and Carmen nearly lets out a sob. “Just breathe for me, okay?”
Carmen forgets to nod and then forgets his name when your grip moves upwards, secured tightly around his pulsing head. You stroke, harder and faster, Carmen’s breaths turning into pants. You move deliberately, making sure the skin of your fingers doesn’t leave the top of his cock.
By this point, he’s leaking out large beads of pre-come and something in you can no longer resist.
The ah Carmen releases is loud and it startles him. He loses the fight against his hips and they surge forward when you swipe your tongue directly over the opening in his tip. He lets out another noise, something long and whining, when you envelop his entire head.
“Close,” is all he can spit out. You leave him with one last circle of your tongue before pulling off, and he whines again. Your hands still, allowing him the time he needs. After a few moments, he gives you a short nod to continue.
“Good boy.”
The words set Carmen aflame. They’re small and quiet but echo in his head like thunder. It thrusts him to the brink of his long-awaited orgasm, your resumption of kneading of his cock only pulling him closer.
“I need to cum, sweet girl. Fuck me, I need’ta come. Can I come, please?”
Your pussy, soaking and also leaking onto the sheet beneath you, clenches around nothing at the request. As you answer, you bend and glide your tongue across him once more.
“Not yet, my love.”
Carmen moans but obeys and it’s so hard. He’s so hard and your stroking and licking and moaning against him. Looking at him with those eyes that he loves to get lost in. He’s tingling all over and doesn’t even bother to hold back whatever sounds exit him anymore.
You’ve sped up even more now and he can barely take it. Carmen’s eyes fill with tears and the control he holds over himself. Dwindling second by second. He’s losing himself but it’s okay because he’s with you.
Somehow, Carmen manages to spew out broken moans between his erratic breathing.
“Please, can I come,” Carmy sobs out and he can feel the actual tears leaking from his eyes. “Please, baby? So, so close. I wanna come, please.”
You take a long second to answer, wanting to hold him out until the very last second. Squeezing your hands a little tighter, breaths heavy and deep as you stare over Carmen.
“Go ahead,” you order over the squelching sounds of your drenched grip around his throbbing cock. Carmen groans loudly, mouth pulled tight.
“Yes?” He rushes out, making sure he’s heard you right. Part of him hopes it was just all a part of his imagination because he wants this feeling to last forever. Here, with you. Barely hanging on. Body tense and vibrating with this bliss.
“Yes,” you repeat louder, and there are not three seconds before Carmen’s entire body constricts and he lets out a wail. It seems to last forever and grows even louder when the first rope of cum spurts out of him.
Your mouth parts in semi-shock at the sight. He pumps out string after string, body glowing as he jerks and jolts against you and the bed. Whatever leaves Carmen’s mouth is so far from any intelligible words. Just a string of curses that melt together as he keeps cumming.
You only slow when his hand finally reaches up to gently grab your wrist. Even through the aftershocks and his last few beads of cum leaving him, he squeezes you tenderly. A long hiss leaves him when your hands slowly release his wet cock, and he lets out one last groan when the air of the room hits him.
Both of your pants are the only sound in the room. Carmen’s eyes have been shut for the better part of the last two minutes and he doesn’t have any strength to lift his head to look at you.
Somewhere in his blurred haze, Carmen feels your weight shift from on top of him to beside him. You feel both near and distant as you press kisses on his sweaty forehead. He isn’t sure but it sounds like you mumble something about you running to the bathroom and grabbing something for him.
Carmen doesn’t know if it’s seconds or years before you return, but the warm, wet feeling on his stomach and chest pries his open. He watches you in silence as you rub a damp cloth across him to clean off the fluid drying on his middle. Each wipe is followed by a small peck of our lips and it has Carmen’s eyes closing again.
He’s nearly sleeping by the end of it and you grin at the sight.
“Keep those eyes open a little longer for me, Bear, okay?”
You get nothing from him a smile again as you grab the water bottle set on the bedside table. You pop it open and use a delicate finger on his chin to pull him from his light sleep. When his eyes meet yours, he gives you a small hi.
“Hi, Bear,” you greet him quietly. “Need you to sit up a little and drink half of this for me. Pretty please.”
Carmen moves in a dreamy trance, raising slowly from the bed and onto an elbow. You help him hold the bottle, and he ends up chugging most of the liquid once he realizes how thirsty he truly is.
“You need some, too,” Carmen mutters after pushing away the water, but you shake your head and urge him to keep drinking.
“I’m okay, baby,” you nod, and he eyes you before drinking the rest. He swallows and huffs out a breath. “You okay?”
Carmen lies back down because his limbs feel like jelly.
“I think so,” he begins, and you run a hand over his head to smooth down his hair. “Don’t think I can walk, though.”
You snicker out a laugh and Carmen’s eyes light up at the sound. The hand on his hair sneaks down to his cheek and settles there. “You did so good, baby. Really good, you were great. So proud of you.”
“You were great. Made me feel incredible. Always make me feel so good,” he tells you lowly, his own hand raising to feel yours against his face. His eyes flutter shut and he kisses your palm twice. “And thank you for doing that with me. I-I really liked it. A little more than the dancing.”
This time you both laugh.
“Also, uh, as soon as I regain feeling in my legs, I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you’re the one that won’t be able to walk.”
Carmen’s words are slurred and he’s exhausted. And his eyes are closing again before he finishes the sentence. But his sense of humor is still there. You withhold the loud laugh that wants to leave you, so as to not disturb him.
In his half-sleep fog, Carmen’s arms pull you down to lay next to him. He nuzzles his still sweaty head into the crook of your neck, settling strong arms around you as he falls even deeper into sleep. Managing to grab the nearby blanket and throw it over the two of you, you hold him tight and keep holding him. Even when his light snores start.
The sheets are still a mess under you, but they’ll get washed in the morning. The next few minutes are spent watching Carmen’s chest rise and fall. The pleasant ache of your dripping core fades into a warm fuzz.
And soon, you’re following behind Carmen and are off into sleep. Dancing throughout dream realms where Carmen is the tide, you are the sun, and your love for each other is the moon sitting prettily in between.
summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu
the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music
6.6k words
warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)
A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛
He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels.
“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished.
In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words.
“Want me to pause it?”
“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”
“I’d love one, thanks!”
Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all.
He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.
Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too.
Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel.
He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again.
Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time.
Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together.
His best friend was really fucking pretty.
He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours.
Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.
“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.
Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb.
He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth.
“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”
They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing.
Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned.
“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”
He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.
You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.
Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”
He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing.
“No.”
Did you just say that out loud?!
Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward.
Looks like you did.
“Ste-”
“What? What do you mean no?”
Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees.
As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”
Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.
“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”
Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”
Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin.
A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”
The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.
“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”
It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him.
“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”
Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway.
“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”
He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head.
“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”
“No, please, I didn’t mean-”
His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour.
Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.
“Can you please-”
“I’ll grab my keys.”
He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger.
The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him.
You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him.
The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore.
When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned.
He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless.
Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands.
Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be.
Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”
“Just take me home, please?”
The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone.
So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?
He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment.
It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”
His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you.
“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started.
“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink.
“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”
The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence.
Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”
Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”
Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.
“And fries. Definitely.”
“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”
“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”
Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better.
“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”
He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue.
You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him.
“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”
He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”
“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it.
Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”
“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it.
But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-
“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.”
He definitely said it out loud that time.
You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.
“Ste-”
“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”
“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier.
“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…”
Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked.
“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry.
“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”
“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”
You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”
Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-
“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”
He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had.
“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”
Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”
“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”
He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else.
But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead.
“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”
“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him.
And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.
“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”
To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more.
The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew.
Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips.
But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open.
“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”
Tried being the definitive word.
“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”
You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”
It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”
The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours.
It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch.
His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”
Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”
Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”
He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”
A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to.
Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing.
All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked.
Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt.
If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either.
And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.
In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.
You didn’t mind.
Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach.
He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”
“No,” you lied.
He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”
You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking.
“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”
Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…
You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington.
Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again.
“Honey, what are you doing?”
“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body.
Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”
“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?”
And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?
Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat.
His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”
“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused.
He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”
And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on.
His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick.
When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”
“Brian,” said without hesitation.
Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”
You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”
Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around.
“Hey Steve?”
“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.
“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him.
“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”
It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his.
“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.
“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”
This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?
But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.
He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.
You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him.
Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.
The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more.
His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”
“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”
“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”
You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot.
“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”
He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence.
Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer.
Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of.
“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath.
You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words.
“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”
You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later.
Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you.
Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork.
You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”
He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him.
He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager.
And that was before you whimpered, before you said:
“Steve, please.”
“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”
His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours.
Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it.
He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”
You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s.
Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”
There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further.
Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced. “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”
You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling.
He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.”
And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away.
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+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* During a Quidditch practice, you accidentally harm Theo and you both learn something new about him.
+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Sub!Theo, Dom!reader, Oral sex (male giving, fem receiving), consensual hitting, heavy kissing, language, Quidditch injury, fem reader (lmk if I missed something) (not proofread)
+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -
Sweat - ZAYN
- - -
The entirety of this practice had shot by like a knife through air. You could feel the air slicing across your body, penetrating your Quidditch uniform.
The darkened clouds overhead danced along the horizon, concealing the golden sun from the pitch. Your eyes scattered across the field in an attempt to locate the Seeker.
In a flash of green and black, a robed bolt of lightning shot across the pitch, heading downward toward the smallest glint of gold. The Snitch.
You shot your head up, and just as you did, a Bludger sped around the edge of the arena, heading straight for him. You clenched your jaw and angled your broom toward the speeding bullet.
“Blaise!” you shouted over the whoosh of the brooms around you. The boy’s dark eyes found yours quickly.
“Head that off!”
Despite Blaise’s position on the team, he caught sight of the flying Bludger and raced off toward it once he realized you wouldn’t catch it in time.
Today's game was a sort of scrimmage for the Slytherin team to practice. Your team often did this instead of running drills like the Gryffindors. Your teammates found they were better if they practiced the way they played—and you’d have to agree. The game got your heart racing, not stupid drills.
Just as Blaise reached the Bludger, he caught the edge of the heavy object with the tail-end of his broom, using its vortex of built-up speed to send the small ball hurtling toward you.
You gripped your bat, and just before it collided with your arm, you swung wildly. The force of the Bludger hitting your bat sounded like thunder.
You watched as it slung off in the direction of the opposite team’s Quaffle.
You admitted that in the heat of the game, you didn’t consider that the opposite team wasn’t really that; it was your team pretending to be another.
“Watch it! Sorry!” you shouted.
Theodore Nott was in a spiral towards the ground, chasing after the Quaffle Berkshire missed, when the Bludger clipped the end of his broom.
His broom stuttered at the impact and sent him circuiting in the opposite direction. With a deepened yelp, he was thrown violently through the air.
“Theo!” you shouted. You gripped the handle of your broom and pushed it toward the ground. Your hair whipped wildly around you as you rocketed toward the boy who now lay collapsed against the damp sand.
Just before you reached the ground, you pulled up and lept off of the wood, running to gain your balance on the uneven ground. You sped toward the motionless boy, trying to keep your footing.
“Theo!”
The game above you had ceased, and other teammates began to drop behind you, trying to reach the two of you.
You dropped down to your knees beside him and laid your body across his. Your gloved hands gripped his shoulders and shook him roughly, trying to stir some consciousness, but there was nothing.
“Oh my god,” you whispered, fretting endlessly. You pressed your cold hands to his face in an attempt to shock him awake. Nothing.
“Fuck, Theo! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”
You were shaking him and shaking him and—
“THEO!” You brought your hand down across his face swiftly, skin meeting skin in a fiery clap.
Theo’s eyes shot open with a small gasp. A deep sigh of relief pushed from your lungs, and you leaned your forehead against his in a moment of weakness.
Your skin pressed against his, the beads of sweat intermingling like a crown of frost. Your gloved fingertips were gently against his cheeks. Both of your lips were parted, breaths heavy and relieved.
“I wonder if you’d ever do that to me again, bella,” his raspy voice purred against your ear.
“Ugh!” You wrenched yourself away from him, relief turning to annoyance. Of course, he’d take this moment to say something sexual.
“Alright, that’s practice! Everybody get washed up—I’ll get Nott to the infirmary.”
With that, a few of your teammates helped Theo toward the pitch’s exit, and the rest of you headed back for a cold shower.
***
It was a Friday evening which meant that all of your roommates were out for the evening—flitting about Hogsmeade, studying in the library, or whatever. You’d been invited out, but you were unbelievably sore from this afternoon’s practice. Be it because you’d pushed your body as hard as it could go during the actual practice or because you’d practically dove off your broom to get to Theo, you didn’t know. Either way, you were taking an early night.
You were, anyway, until you heard a knock at your door.
At first, you’d just assumed it was one of your roommates checking in for the night, but you were sure you hadn’t locked the door.
You rolled over and faced the thick wooden door, waiting for another knock, just in case you’d imagined it. You didn’t want to get up if you didn’t have to—especially after you’d already gotten so comfortable.
Another knock came to the door, this time a bit quicker and rougher.
You suppressed a sigh and yanked your covers back, headed toward the door at the end of the room. Whoever it was had better have a decent excuse for interrupting your rest. Every step you took felt like a dagger shooting up your legs and back.
The minute your fingers wrapped around the door handle and pulled it back, a tall figure pushed past you and into the room.
“Hey, what—” you began to protest before a voice interrupted yours. It was the same rasping, deep voice from earlier on the Quidditch pitch—one you knew all too well.
“Please, bella, let me stay,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t get you out of my head.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This was Theo. The two of you had been on the same Quidditch team since you were eleven, you knew everything there was to know about each other. Except how badly he apparently wanted you, it seemed.
“Theo, I—”
“Please,” he spoke, eyes wide and wanting. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Just let me have you—just this once.”
“We can’t do this…we’re in the same house, on the same team, we’d just fuck everything up!” you tried to reason with him. There were a thousand reasons why nothing romantic should ever happen between you and Theo and zero reasons why they should, yet…the way he stared at you with such desire imprinted in his oceanic eyes had your knees weak.
“Please, I will do anything to have you,” he said. His voice cracked beneath the weight of his desire, the volume little more than a pathetic whisper.
And just as you were about to turn him away for the final time, he sank down to his knees just before you. His hands reached out for you, asking wordlessly to touch you. When you didn’t pull away, his shaking fingers made contact with your bare legs.
One arm curled around one leg, and the other pushed between your thighs. With begging strength, he pulled himself to you, pressing his shuddering, parted lips gently against your flesh. The feeling of his hot breath against your skin sent chills across your body.
Your eyes fluttered for a fleeting second as you imagined the possibilities—ones of you tangled within the sheets and devouring every inch of his body.
“Please,” he practically whined the word, his breath hot and panting against you. His hands clutched your legs endlessly, his lips across your skin, your fingers curling in his hair. You didn’t really recall doing that. Fuck.
“Okay, Teddy,” you whispered. His head shot up quickly, and his eyes searched yours. He looked in disbelief as if he hardly believed you’d ever say yes.
“But you do everything I say.” You removed one of your hands from his curls to trace the knuckles down the length of his cheek.
“Yes, bella,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your hands on his skin.
His breath caught in his throat as your next words hit his ears. His eyes glanced up at you only for a moment before he was slipping his trembling fingers beneath the fabric of your night shorts.
His touch felt like fire along your flesh, melting and scarring everything it touched. Your head tilted back slowly as he worked the clothing down your legs, his movements slow and methodical.
Just as soon as they were on, your shorts pooled on the floor around your ankles, and Theo pressed his nose to your core, eliciting an electric response from you.
Your fingers tightened in his curls as the tip of his nose bumped against you. It was clear from his slowed breathing and caressing lips that he wanted to touch you badly. But still, he listened.
When giving instructions, you had told him to pull your bottoms down and to place himself just before you but not to touch you yet. You wanted him to beg even more. You loved how pathetic he sounded.
“Baby,” he whispered against your skin, hot breath flowing down your legs. His pale eyes stared up at you with desperation leaking around the edges. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, begging you to allow him to touch you. His fingers practically vibrated along the edge of your skin, every other shudder forcing him to come into contact with you.
“What do you say, Teddy?” you breathed, your eyes fluttering shut.
“Please…,” he whispered, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your nightshirt. “How many times shall I say it? I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to.”
“Just once more, then you can touch.”
“Please, my love.” His voice was soft and cracking. The words he chose made your head spin, making you wonder what kind of feelings he was truly harboring for you. Were they purely sexual or perhaps something more? You weren’t sure. It was a question for another day.
“Touch me, Teddy.”
With a shuddering exhale, he pressed his mouth to the core of your body in a hot, languorous motion. At the feeling, your fingers returned to their station in his hair, pulsating against his scalp. Your head rolled back against your shoulders. Your throat strained against the flesh of your neck, sending sparks of sound down through your chest at every moan that exited your lips.
He destroyed you sweetly from the outside in, feasting on you like fruit in the summer. His desperation to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you was pulsing through him like a bullet. Your legs began to shake beneath the feeling of his lips on yours.
When he realized your knees had begun to shake, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pushed you up and over onto your bed.
As your back hit the length of your mattress, a soft gasp left you as you realized his lips had never left you. He had never pulled away from you despite the motion. He had never pulled away, and your end was rapidly approaching.
“Close,” you whispered to the air. At the word, Theo’s hands clutched around your hips tightly, pulling you even closer to his mean mouth. A yelp escaped your lips at the sudden intensity of his tongue. Nothing could have ever prepared you for the feeling of the boy beneath you.
His eyes refused to leave you. They resembled that of a predator in the wild feasting on his prey, with no regret of what he was consuming. He could have eaten you whole right now, and you would not have felt any less pleasure.
Your fingers wrapped into the duvet beneath you, pressure increasing with each second. The breaths entering and exiting you increased heavily as your body skated closer and closer to the edge.
A small groan from Theo’s mouth sent shockwaves up the length of your body. The fuzzy feeling pooled in your head at the base of your skull and neck. You weren’t going to last much longer.
You glanced down to warn Theo that he would have to move away when you registered what the boy beneath you was doing. His eyes, now peacefully shut, refused to falter despite his body's motion.
His hips rolled roughly into the edge of your mattress, pushing pleasure through the rest of his body. His eyebrows began to knit into a rough line just as you began to tip over the edge of your mind. Your head rolled back against your pillow, Theo’s mouth showing no mercy despite the pleasure he was now giving himself.
You could barely stand to hold onto the comforters above you anymore; the only thing you could bear to grip was Theo’s honeyed curls, and with each tug to the delicate strand, he’d release another moan against you.
In a second, you fell over the edge, cascading into an overwhelming high that rose your body away from the bed. No matter how far into it you were, Theo refused to slow down and moved you through the whole moment, never relinquishing his mouth’s movements.
You finished with a cracking groan and shuddering legs. The weight of Theo’s hands against your thighs barely kept them from rising off the bed.
He chuckled evilly, a mixture of slick and spit running down his chin and neck. His lips were swollen and reddened, begging to taste your mouth.
He began to crawl up the bed towards you, but you stopped him with a foot placed delicately on his chest. You shook your head weakly and angled your head towards the obvious problem that had blossomed beneath his trousers. A lazy smirk spread across his lips.
“Finish,” you demanded, your eyes heavy and lidded, your lips parted and panting. The sweat from your exertion bled down your neck and between your breasts.
“Please, bella, let me touch you—”
“No, you’ve touched me enough,” you whispered. “Finish yourself in front of me.”
He swallowed thickly, the motion of his throat sending a shiver across your arms. He was the perfect specimen of a man, you could hardly stand it.
And when his hands dropped to separate the button and zipper of his pants, you could have come again. His hands slid across his slick stomach and pressed against himself.
His eyes screwed shut, and a slight hiss left his lips at the sensation. There was something so empowering about watching him do anything you told him to. It felt absolutely perfect, and you never wanted to stop.
His free hand rose to his face and slid the remaining sheen from his mouth across himself, the scent of you mixed with the consistency had him very quickly rolling his hips into his fist. He groaned against the feeling, bracing himself on the mattress just above you.
His eyes could barely hold yours, yet every time they fluttered shut, you laid a light slap to his cheek.
“Keep your eyes on me, Teddy,” you whispered. The skin on his face was becoming redder by the moment, but every time your hand came into contact with his cheek, he seemed to get closer to his climax. You never would have pegged Theo as someone who wanted to be hit by his partner, but it seemed to be working wonders for him. He was pathetic and begging for more after two or three hits. It felt perfect.
“That’s it, Teddy, that’s it, baby,” you whispered against his swollen lips. “Take it.”
And within a few moments, he was groaning and releasing himself against his hands, and you were pulling his lips to yours by his hair and devouring him just as he’d done to you.
missionary sex where he’s whining into your neck please 🙏
dear lorddddddd oh god oh fuck I’m a SLUT for subby men great HEAVENZ
Just A Toy
warnings: smut (at this point what else do I write lmao), sub!billy, dom!reader, fem anatomy, choking, praise, whiny! Billy, degradation, breeding, size kink, p in v sex. (Also slight misogyny on Billy’s part but it was the 80s so-)
The first time you took control in the bedroom, Billy said it was going to be a one time thing. One and done because as the “man” in the relationship, he was supposed to be the dominant one. But something about your usually sweet honeyed voice turning condescending and sultry melted a part of his brain. So as he thrusted into you, and your voice took that commanding lilt, Billy knew he was fucked.
“Oh fuck yes sweetheart right there—f-fuck!” Your moan is warbled but Billy shudders as he hears it nodding his head slightly. “Y-yeah? There?—jesus your t-tight.” His admission has you bucking your hips up into his to meet his thrusts. “So fucking big baby—hah—see honey that’s allll you…” you trail off with a gasp as Billy ruts into you faster, whimpering at the slight bulge in your belly that each of his erratic thrusts made. Billy’s mouth parts open when you purposefully clench around his girth. He quickly lowers onto his elbows shakily caging around you.
“too much sweetheart?” You ask feigning concern in your eyes, as Billy leans in, wanting a kiss, your hand wraps around his throat and squeezes. What you’re not expecting is for his eyes to roll back and his hips pistoning into yours stutter to a stop.
It seems you’ve found a tick.
You giggle when he whines incoherently letting out a huff of air as he grinds needily into your fluttering heat. “You like that honey?” You purr running your other hand over his cheek. Your lips quirk into a smile as he shakes his head vigorously, a brilliant flush entering his cheeks. “You like my hand around your throat?” You don’t let him answer this time before cooing “like a fucking slut?” Billy’s eyes glaze at your words. “ m not ‘m not a-a—oh-ah” Billy mewls as he begins to fuck into you again.
“Your cock leaking in me—ah- says otherwise love~” you crow lewdly. At this Billy’s lip trembles and he buries his face into your neck, his moans vibrate delicately and you smile rubbing his back soothingly. “Good boy Billy. So g-good for me.” You sigh as the head of his dick massages a spongy part inside of you that makes your legs shake in pleasure.
You feel Billy’s mouth drops open at the praise and his head snaps up from your neck. “F-fuck—oh-fucking shit!” Billy’s whines breathily.
”oh you loveee that hmm?” You tsk at his flustered, fucked out state. “My good boy.” You whisper in his ear nibbling at the lobe.
Billy keens at your words, body trembling as continues to hide his blushing face in the crook of your neck. “So fucking cute when you’re needy honey” Your teasing him at this point and he knows it, Billy lets out an indignant shaky huff at your words, attempting to glare at you. But as your cunt gushes around him once more, he loses his resolve eyebrows furrowing, tongue slightly out. “Stop—hah-stop it.” Billy’s pathetic wail has you arching your back into him. You smirk, tilting his head to the side before licking a strip of his neck.
“Stop what hon?” Your innocent reply drips with sweetness. Billy hardly hears you, the only thing his brain is tuning into is the wet sounds of your cunt as he drills his twitching cock into its warmth over and over. “I know you want this baby.” You giggle as Billy once again shakes his head at your prodding. “Puh—please—fuck ‘s too much m’gonna cum please—” Billy grunts as you growl, shaking your head “you better fucking not sweetheart,” you wrap your legs around his back, pulling him in closer and keeping him deep in your pussy. “You cum and I’m not letting you fuck me for a month.” At the end of your cruel sentence Billy groans, eyes watering with overstimulated tears.
“Tha-hahh-that’s not fair I-‘m thats not fair you c-can’t!” “I can and I will gorgeous!” You smirk sadistically. Pleadingly, Billy looks into your eyes voice pitchy and taking on a drawl “darl’ darling please—I-fuck!” You can feel how close he is by the telltale sloppiness of his slick slowly leaking out of you. But all thoughts eddy from your brain as you Billy’s tongue, warm and wet wrap around your exposed, sensitive nipples and suck.
Your back bows upward at the weight of pleasure this simple act gives you. Billy drools around your plump tits as you convulse. Your hand threading itself tightly in his golden locks and tugging him closer. Billy let’s put a wanton moan as your cunt pulses around him. His head snaps back up, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your now glistening skin. “G-gonna make me cum baby?” You coo to him dragging a nail down his muscular back. “Gonna get this cunt pregnant?” Your sigh comes out uneven as you feel your oncoming orgasm approaching fast.
“Ye—ah-yes fuck yes please-‘m a good boy for you.” Billy’s muffled raspy whimpers fuel your already overwhelming desire. “Yes honey—mm-such a good boy for me.” Your small reply has Billy’s cock drooling inside of you a final time as he sobs out “m gonna cum—gonna cum so fucking much plea—ah!” You cut off his lustful plea with a kiss as your own orgasm racks your body.
Panting, you lie there, Billy’s form still comfortably on top of yours. You were contently exhausted, running a hand through Billy’s fluffed hair letting out a laugh as his pussy drunk gaze meets yours. “You alright honey?” Your smile widens as Billy sighs out an unintelligible huff of air, once again suckling on your perked boobs.
“My pretty boy.” You tease. Much to your delight, a bright blush passes through his cheeks
There are certain things in life that can’t be denied. You’re starting to think maybe you and Steve are one of them.
pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing.
word count - 2.6k
authors note - part three has arrived!! thanks for your patience, angels. thank you for all your continued enthusiasm and support for this series. I love them and I love you <3 as always, please reblog if you enjoyed!! it’s the only way to circulate my fics <3
masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.
“The prettiest girl in the world just walked in.”
“Your mom?”
“Funny, Harrington. Try again.”
“My Cherry?”
Robin smiles knowingly, nodding her head. Not only did Steve automatically associate you with the phrase prettiest girl in the world, but he called you his. Some days, she wished she could slap him square across the face in hopes of waking him up to what everyone else could see so clearly.
“Hi, you two. Working hard, or hardly working?”
You giggle, and the sound bounces off the metal shelves of the Family Video Store. Steve’s mesmerised, stood unmoving with a beaming grin on his face.
“I’m the first, Steve’s the second.”
The boy kicks his coworker in the shin, laughing when she pinches the bare skin of his arm in retaliation.
“Not true.”
Steve takes you in for a second, stuck still in his place. You’re wearing his favourite sundress, all patterned and pretty in front of him. Your lips are glossy and skin glowy, sneakers on your feet a perfect white. The perfect picture of a summer day.
“What are you doing here?” Robin asks, breaking him out of his haze. He snaps back to reality and throws an arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple sweetly.
“I was nearby anyway, thought I’d come in and see if you were busy. And I had to remind Steve to pick a movie for tonight.”
“We’re not watching a romcom.”
“We’re watching a romcom,” you say at the same time as Steve while Robin laughs.
“I better grab the new stock from the back. See you later,” she says, winking at the boy who still has you pulled tight into his side.
He rests his chin on the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your cherry conditioner and vanilla body wash. If Steve gets to heaven, he’s convinced this is what it’ll smell like.
“I finish here at 6, so I can come and get you, or you can wait for me at my place? Your choice, Cherry Baby.”
“I’ll wait for you. I was thinking I’d make us some dinner anyway, ready for when you get home.”
Home. Steve’s brain short circuits, a vision of a domestic life with a white picket fence flashing across his mind. He cups your face in his hands, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Sounds perfect,” he whispers.
You’re a little confused by all this sudden affection, but the last thing you’ll ever do is complain. If he wants to kiss you until you’re dizzy in the middle of this Family Video Store, then so be it.
“I should leave you to get on with stuff.”
“You could stay all day, if you wanted. We could make you wear the uniform and everything - no one would suspect a thing.”
You laugh, nudging his foot with yours.
“As tempting as that is, I have a little more shopping to do. And I have to get ingredients for later.”
You pick up your bag, swinging it over your shoulder as you look at him.
“See you later, Stevie.”
“See you later, Cherry Pie.”
You’re halfway out the door when he calls your name, head whipping around to face him.
“You’re so pretty. You know that, right?”
You look at your shoes, suddenly bashful at his boldness.
“You too, Stevie. Prettiest boy I know.”
You both go about the rest of your days floating on air, high on the giddy sweetness of it all.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
Steve almost passes out when he unlocks his front door.
There’s candles lit and music playing softly, the kitchen alive with movement. Something smells delicious, and he can hear you humming along to a song he thinks he recognises as you chop and stir. He can picture it perfectly before he even enters the room, but the sight still knocks him off balance when he finally gets a good look at you.
“Honey, I’m home!”
You spin from your place at the stove to grin at him, petticoat trimmed apron tied around your waist to protect your dress.
“Darling! I’ve been waiting all day for you!”
You curtsy in mock greeting, which makes Steve laugh much harder than it should. He strides over and gathers you in his arms, squeezing you a little tighter than necessary.
“Steven, I saw you a few hours ago. You’re acting like you’ve just returned from war.”
“Forgive me for missing you,” he mumbles into your hair.
You sink into his embrace anyway, tangling your fingers into the back of his shirt and inhaling the familiar scent of it.
“Something smells really good.”
“It’s my famous cherry pie,” you grin, pulling back to look up at him. “Made it just for you.”
“You’re an angel,” he exclaims, spinning you around on the tiled floors. “An angel sent just for me.”
You try to ignore the way heat rises across your chest, his compliments warming your skin.
“Let me take it out of the oven, and then we’ll eat. You must be starving.”
He laughs, because you know for a fact he’s always hungry. You know everything about him. It should scare him, spook him, make him nervous. Instead he hums with the excitement of it, body alive with the anticipation of it all.
Steve changes out of his work clothes as you plate up dinner. He comes back downstairs to see you sat at the table waiting for him, all patient and pretty. He wonders momentarily what he’s done so right in life to be rewarded so greatly.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“So you totally brought me a romcom, right?”
Steve wants to deny it, wants to tell you that actually he stood his ground and stuck to his word. Instead, he says,
“Of course I did.”
And you laugh, all silvery and melodic, because you knew he’d cave. He can’t say no to you, even if he wanted to. You don’t use it to your advantage as often as you should. Steve wishes you did a little more.
“I’ll make popcorn if you get the video set up.”
Snacks made and movie ready, you settle in next to Steve on the couch. The two of you always follow the same routine - you sit separately, a fair distance between you, watching the movie with your hands to yourself. Then, slowly, you migrate towards each other, until you’re pressed together without an inch of space to be found.
The same thing happens tonight.
You end up being spooned by Steve, both of you laying across the couch cushions. Your back is pressed to his front, legs tangled together, his arm keeping you bracketed in to him. He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder to watch the TV, pressing kisses into the skin of your neck absentmindedly every now and again.
The film Steve picked is one you’ve seen before, but you’re not about to tell him that. Instead, your eyes slowly slip closed, the steady rhythm of the boys breathing lulling you into a sleepy haze. He traces patterns over the exposed skin of your stomach with his fingertips, chuckling slightly when you flinch as he brushes a ticklish spot.
Your hips roll back into his as you try to adjust your position, and Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. He inhales deeply, waiting for you to settle back down.
You don’t. You keep wriggling, clearly uncomfortable as you sink further into the couch cushions. Steve tries to help you, strong arm pulling you up and into him. You jut your hips once more, and he can’t help the small groan that leaves his lips.
Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the flashing lights of the TV illuminating the room. The movie is still playing, but you know it’s almost finished. Steve’s arm is tight around your waist, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. You shift your hips to alleviate the pressure on your tangled legs when Steve sucks in a harsh breath, startling you.
He’s warm behind you. So warm. His chest is moving ragged, panting against your bare skin. His fingers grip your thigh tightly for a second, before letting it go and soothing over it.
Oh. Oh.
You’re wide awake, suddenly. Liquid heat spikes its way up your spine, all prickly and electric. You’re not sure what your next move is, but lust is clouding all five of your senses.
“Steve.”
“Cherry.”
“Steve.”
You try to say his name more firmly, but it just comes out as a whine. The sound shoots straight to Steve’s core, his hips bucking into your ass involuntarily.
“You okay?” he mumbles into your ear, grip on your thigh tightening. His fingertips dig into your skin, and you pray you’ll still be able to feel it tomorrow.
“Yeah,” you breathe, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay. You’re on fire, every nerve ending in your body alight with molten heat. You think you might be shaking with it, hoping Steve doesn’t notice.
His hand smooths up from your thigh to just under your breast, resting gently on your ribs. Your heart is fluttering like a hummingbirds wings, frantic and delicate. He can feel it through his fingertips.
“I love you, Cherry Baby.”
You lose your breath momentarily, reminding yourself how to inhale. He always does this, always catches you off guard by telling you he loves you in the moments you expect it the least. It always means more, in times like these. He could have said anything to you just then, but he chose I love you. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or neither or both.
“I love you too,” you choke out. “So much.”
You grind your hips back into his, grinning when he groans all low and buttery. His hand glides up to cup your chest, squeezing gently as you arch into him.
“What do you want?” he asks slowly. “Tell me what you want, babe. I’ll give you anything. Need to hear you say it. Wanna hear you say the words.”
You let him ramble for a minute, trying to put your thoughts in order. You try as hard as you can, but all you can say is,
“You.”
Steve buries his nose into your hair, pressing a kiss into the space behind your ear gently.
“You’re killing me, baby.”
“Want you so badly, Steve. Please.”
The hand that’s on your chest dances down to your stomach, slipping underneath your sleep shorts. He traces his fingers over your underwear, moaning when he feels them completely soaked through.
“Shit.”
“Stevie.”
He strokes you gently, hips rutting into your back when yours jolt into his hand. Eventually, he pulls your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat before slipping two inside.
You keen instantly, back arching into him. His lips find home in the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, teeth biting down occasionally to try and stifle his desire. You move your hips in tandem with his rhythm, grinding down to try and find the right spot.
“Yeah, fuck, that’s it. Atta girl. Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Take what you need.”
His voice is like melted honey, all golden and warm. It’s making your bones turn to liquid, sinking further into the hold he still has on you with his other arm. Every inch of you is plastered to every inch of him, not a millimetre of space between you. You’ve never been so connected, both physically and emotionally. It’s like the tectonic plates are shifting, the very foundations of your lives changing right in front of your eyes.
Your chest is heaving, panting like you’ve just ran a marathon. All you can focus on is the white heat building in the pit of your stomach, volcanic and bright. When Steve crooks his fingers, you cry out, tumbling over the edge into a blind freefall with no parachute.
“That’s it, baby. Good girl.”
“You’re so good f’me. Doin’ so well.”
“Ride it out, pretty girl. Fuck.”
“Make a mess, there we go. Just like that.”
You’re not even registering his words, but you know that he’s praising you. He always is. He thinks you’re an angel, sent down from heaven to teach him what love is.
Steve ruts his hips into your back, groaning as he finishes. He can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed. The feeling of you writhing in his hold as you tightened around him was his undoing, whether he wanted it to be or not. He doesn’t mind.
You go boneless, head dropping back into his shoulder. He presses kisses onto your temple, your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can reach. You sigh in contentment, and Steve wishes he could bottle up the sound and take it like a shot of espresso every morning.
“You okay?”
You nod and then giggle, dopamine rushing through your blood. You’re almost lightheaded with it, floating on cloud nine.
“Steve?” you whisper.
“Yeah?”
You turn in his hold to finally face him, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. You rest your sweaty forehead against his, panting into his mouth.
“Want it to be you.”
He pulls away slightly to get a good look at your face, eyes a little wide with shock.
“You mean…”
“Yeah. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but if you do, I guess I, um… there’s no one I trust more than you.”
“You know you can only lose your virginity once, baby.”
“I know. Which is exactly why it should be you.”
He grins at you, all giddy and love drunk, bumping your nose with his.
“You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
Steve leans in to press his lips to yours, all slow and tender, kissing you as if you have all the time in the world.
Perhaps you do.
“Not tonight, obviously,” you murmur, chuckling under your breath. “Don’t think you could handle that.”
He scoffs, pulling back from you in disbelief.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You just came in your pants and I didn’t even touch you. Who even knows if we’ll make it to actual sex.”
Steve pinches your sides, wrapping his arms around you so you can’t escape. You laugh, trying to squirm out of his hold without luck.
“You’re gonna be eating your words, Cherry Baby.”
You shake your head, blinding smile still etched on your face.
“You know what I am gonna eat? My cherry pie. I’m starving.”
Steve groans at the thought of the dessert sitting on the counter in the kitchen. No one does a cherry pie quite like you.
“Hell yeah. Let’s do it. There’s ice cream in the freezer, too. That vanilla bean one you like.”
You peck his lips before standing up on shaky legs, wincing as you do it.
“You good?”
“I’m gonna need a new shirt. This one’s sticky.”
You look at him with a raised eyebrow and he can’t hold in his laughter, the sound of it booming around the quiet room.
“Shut the fuck up,” he jokes as he throws you over his shoulder. Despite your protests, he carries you up the stairs, smacking your ass a few times on the way for good measure.
When he puts you down, he cradles your face gently, looking into your eyes with sincerity.
“It’s me and you forever. You know that right?”
You know what he’s trying to say. I love you. You’re it for me. There never has been and never will be anyone else.
But neither of you are quite ready for those words. So instead, you say,
Summary: Theodore and her venture down a path they'd never stepped upon. Because of Theodore's insatiable desire and her new night dress.
Words: 3,7k
AN: I have nothing to say. Enjoy.
She could feel his eyes on her, even if he tried to hide them by reading the book resting between his fingers. She didn't know why he was so inclined to always have his eyes on her. Especially when she was only brushing her teeth, lather covering her lips and running down her chin. She didn't look attractive at all.
But what she didn't realize was that the silky, skintight nightgown she wore gave Theodore the perfect view of the behind of her thighs. And the fabric ended right below her behind, teasing Theodore's poor old heart to death.
It was the first she had ever worn something so revealing, especially in front of him. Usually, she buried herself in her brother's old clothes and rags, finding them to be the most comfortable clothing.
And not that she didn't look dashing in those, but this was new territory for Theodore, and he wasn't taking it very well.
His heart was increasingly picking up speed and the apples of his cheeks were burning with either shame or lust, which one he didn't know. He was lucky that the duvet was covering the lower part of his body, otherwise, his desire would be much harder to hide than it already was.
(Name) threw a last, suspicious glance in Theodore's way, noticing his clenched jaw, before leaning over the tap and spitting the remains of the toothpaste out before washing it off her lips. Then she sauntered out of the bathroom, closing the door and absentmindedly rubbing her eye out of exhaustion.
Theodore's eyes were glued to her face as she floated around the room, blowing out the warm candles that were scattered on her many shelves and drawers, slowly inciting the room into a solace of darkness. The only thing helping her see being the last candle on the nightstand, which she waited to blow out.
Instead, she lifted her side of the duvet and crawled under, glowing at the warmth it provided. As an extra procedure turned over to Theodore and efficiently latched onto his bare side, her arm hugging around his torso and her head being buried in between his neck and shoulder.
It wasn't often that they got a chance to be with each other during the night times because of Hogwarts rules and the partition between the boys, girls, and different houses. This is why these moments are always highly appreciated, no matter where, how, or when.
Her nose, lips, and forehead rest comfortably on his pulse point, ears perking at every beat of his heart and bathing in the comfort of being so close to him. She doesn't think about how fast it is beating, or how Theodore's breathing is slightly uneven. Before, when she lay down, she didn't notice how he directed her legs when she wrapped herself around him so that she wouldn't accidentally grace his, at the moment, very sensitive area.
"Are you done reading soon?" She asked, his skin muffling her words and the air tickling his neck. And he raised his arm which he formerly circled her and stroked her hair back, his eyes stuck on the pages. "Only two pages left. Then I'm all yours."
A girlish smile lit up her face and she buried herself even deeper into his neck, not letting Theodore see how easily he made her insides melt and her face heat.
And as promised, after reading the last two pages of the chapter, he closed the book and put it on the floor. And (Name) took the honor of leaving his side and blowing out the last candles, this time letting the room be cast in a shadow.
Theodore eyes were glued on the back of her body as she leaned forwards, and painfully remembered the hard piece of trouble that throbbed between his legs. Before, when she was pushed up against him and his eyes actually could focus on the words in his book, he had forgotten how turned on he was. But it seemed everything she did right now made his pent-up mind turn to the less innocent part of his brain.
(Name) stopped all her movements when a large palm placed itself between her shoulder blades and gently pressed. Not to push her, but to feel her skin, how her muscles moved beneath his hand. The hand travels from its place in the middle of her back, up to her neck. Her arms gained goosebumps when Theodore cupped her neck between his fingers and thumb, fingertips almost reaching to her throat.
A sigh of delight is all she can muster when he rubs circles into her neck, carefully turning her head towards him. His black pupils had taken over his iris, only leaving a rim of his brown-stained, lust-blown eyes. Those eyes were something unfamiliar, something (Name) had never seen before. Not even in their most passionate moments, which to his dismay had only been the hidden snogging in the corner of the school library where she could guarantee that none of her siblings were watching.
The hand behind her neck traveled to her shoulder, and she swallowed when he gently pushed her down into the pillows. And she held her breath and watched with bug eyes as he crawled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, and laying his arms on either side of her face to keep his body from crushing her.
And he stared at her, intense eyes locking with hers as if they were trying to tell her something, to imply something. And she didn't understand, but the tension in the air made her crazy and she longed to snap it like a twig between her fingers.
She let her hand travel from her side, up to the back of his delicate neck. She mimicked the hold he had on her before, and gently pushed him closer so that she could claim his lips with her own
Warmth and relief spread like wildfire in her stomach when Theodore returned her kiss with more eagerness and power than she had ever seen him do before. A sigh of delight escaped her nose, and she basked in the love Theodore provided for her every day, every minute to every second.
Her arms encircled his neck, and she slowly pulled him closer, letting him rest all his weight on her body. He moaned airily into her mouth, and (Name) saw it as an opportunity to let her tongue invade his mouth. She could feel how he melted against her body as she took control, forcing the kiss to become deeper, more sensual as she massaged his tongue with hers.
Theodore didn't know what to do with himself, for he had never experienced someone taking such control over him. Both body and mind were completely devoted to her and he had no longer any wish to think for himself, only to let her lead him through.
Slowly but surely, she slowed the kiss down, and Theodore found himself frowning when she disconnected their lips entirely. Spit collected on her bottom lip and without breaking their intimate eye contact, he leaned down and sucked the liquid off her lip. A sweet, closed-mouth moan echoed in her throat and Theodore felt how his hardness throbbed in his boxers.
"If you only could understand how absurdly amazing you make me feel." He mumbled with lidded eyes.
Her chest was heaving against his bare one, and she looked at him as if he was the reason for all the good in the world and all the good in her life. His skin erupted in flames and he, once again, leaned down although this time connecting his lips with the column of her throat.
A hand buried itself in her locks and she had no choice but to close her eyes as his lips traveled along her neck, at first only planting innocent pecks, letting his rosy lips leave invisible prints on her skin. Before he found the point right under her jaw and sucked.
"Oh, Theo." She simpered as he sucked, licked, and kissed the space, abusing it as a way of showing his love.
Her words made his hand tighten in her hair, and whilst she loved the attention she was receiving, she wanted to have more control. Theodore needed to be the princess for once. The one who would just stand there and accept the kisses and love. So she slowly enclosed her legs around his hips, squeezing him with her thighs as her hand traveled to his hair.
"You're always so good to me, taking care of me. And I love you so, so much." He sighed shakily into her neck, both because of the praise and also because of his crotch that was now pressed up against hers, and he needed almost all of his control to not grind into her and provide to his inextinguishable thirst for her.
"You own me, you own my body and you're the only thing on my mind." Theodore sucked harder on her neck, teeth grazing the blue area.
"And I own you, Theodore." And it was his downfall. He couldn't help himself but let his hips grind into hers and he grunted at the immense pleasure that spread along his stomach. And after that, he couldn't stop. Like he had been cursed, he continued to push himself against her, a secret fantasy of being inside of her, feeling her walls around his cock pushing him to continue.
"Please." He begged." Please let me make love to you." She almost choked on her tongue at his confession, and that accompanied by the pressure of Theodore's hips grinding into her made her mind foggy.
"I would to have you." A breath got caught in her throat as pressure once more ripped through her body. "But I don't want our first to be in the same house as my parents." The movement of his body came to a slow halt, trying to control himself and respect her wishes. A few playfully pecs were placed on her collarbones and a giggle escaped her lips at the tickling of his lips.
He pulled away from her body and met her eyes, intense gaze making her confidence waver and her body heat soar. Just for a moment, she contemplated to let him have her right in her childhood bed. To let him have his way with her. But with the ounce of self-control left in her body, she stayed in her decision with the knowledge it could bring more problems than pleasure. For him, her, and the rest of the family.
A hard kiss on her lips broke her out of the daze, and Theodore gently rolled off her body, settling at her side with him facing her.
"You sure it's alright?" She asked lightly, fingers tracing the shape of his nose. Her eyes did discreetly look down his body lightly gesturing to his crotch. With fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his again, this time placing a lighter pec on her forehead.
"I'm sure, I'm here with you that's all I need. Nothing more."
"Are sure? Otherwise, you can-"
"I'm sure, never been more sure." With a gentle smile on her lips, she nodded, eyes fluttering shut when Theodore continued with her previous movements, fingers tracing her nose. "Go to sleep."
But she couldn't sleep. It was impossible. Butterflies were racing against her inner organs, in her belly and other places she had never felt the tickling feeling in. Her entire body was buzzing. Just the thought of her making the boy next to her so troubled, in a good way, was thrilling. Because he's Theodore, the attractive, brilliant, and kind Slytherin who everyone wanted to be or to be with. And he chooses her.
The boy next to her shuffled in the bed, body turning so his back faced her. She played as still as possible so he wouldn't notice her being awake, or to wake him for that matter.
But just when she was sure he was sound asleep, he sat up in the bed, throwing his legs over the edge and her heart beat in worry when his head hung lowly into his hands. She was about to lay a comforting hand on his back but he stood up before she had the time.
"Theo?" She asked and he turned around, startled by her voice. "You okay?"
A smile lit his face and he kneeled before her, kissing her lips quickly. "Just going to the bathroom." Even though her room was dark, the moonlight revealed an unmistakable redness on the apples of his cheeks and she looked down to see his problem still present, and once again her body erupted in a buzz.
Before he could walk away, she grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked at her with a question in his eyes, and she looked away in shyness.
"I can- I can help you if you want?" Her big eyes raked over his face, waiting for an answer while his face displayed a handful of different emotions.
"You don't have to, I don't want to force you." She flushed at his gentleness, but couldn't dismiss the new, lustful edge in his voice.
"I want to help you. Alright? I want you." When he didn't say anything, she tugged his hand towards her, enough so one of his knees met the mattress.
"Do you want me too?" Her voice took a change and her eyes searched in his. As an answer, Theodore grabbed her throat and pulled her into a searing kiss, tongue licking over her lips when he pulled away.
"I want you to, need you, truly." And he was about to go into a second kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
"Good. But on one condition." He listened idly, lips kissing on the pad of her finger. "You have to be quiet, at all cost. You can't make a sound, if you do I'll have to stop."
She gently positioned him on his back, brain going ten miles on hour at the newfound confidence, at the newfound domination. He nodded slowly and his eyes were hooded with the lust of anticipation.
Thedore was a naturally dominant person per se. In their relationship, in his life, and in his friend group. With a hand on her back, he guided her the way he wanted, and with the preeminence in his voice, she found it hard to deny him. But now, with his panting chest and pleading puppy dog eyes, she wondered where Theodore went, without complaining of course.
With shaky hands and Theodore's eyes intently on her, she reached for the edge of his underwear, fingers picking at his waistband. Her knees clenched together when Thedore put both his arms behind his head, face shining with confidence. And in the most loving way possible, a small part of her wanted to break it down.
Slowly, she pulled the underwear down, with the help of Theodore raising his hips. When she laid eyes on his crotch, she swallowed and looked at Theodore, who had his lip in his teeth.
As if he could see her hesitation, he gave her a nod. "It's okay, Lovie, you can touch me."
And in pure curiousness, she let the tips of her fingers run up his length, feeling the warmth emitting from his body. A gasp made way from his mouth and he threw his head into the pillow. In fear of believing she hurt him, she pulled back, hand landing on his thigh.
"Theo? Sorry did I hurt you? I didn't mean to." She stressed, massaging his thigh in comfort. But he only shook his head, trying to slow his increased breath.
"No, no don't stop." His voice cracked pitifully as he pleaded, but she wasn't convinced.
"Theo Im not su-"
"Please for the love of Merlin, touch me. I swear I'm going to explode." The doubt was replaced with fire in her entire body. And she did the same movement again, running her fingers up his length.
Once again, a gasp escaped his lips, and a rare, blissful expression covered his face. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and a small smile on his open mouth.
And she wanted more of this reaction, craved it even. So she continued to run her fingertips up and down, biting her lip to hide her smile at his panting and puffing.
"Come on, love, I know you can do more than that." He didn't. But she could do more. She met his eyes, who were intently, expectantly staring into her. Like he was daring her. Holding his eye, she took a loose grip on his cock, doing an experimental stroke.
His eyes snapped to where his body met her hands, and a small, low moan forced itself from his lips. So low she almost missed it, but she's glad she didn't. She forced her thighs together, rocking back and forth as she began to twist her wrist to give Theo relief along with herself.
He only continues to stare at her moving hand, his stomach and thighs flexing with pleasure. And she notices, of course, she does, and lets her free land on the place connecting his pelvis and thigh, slowly massaging it to get him relaxed. It does quite the opposite.
He throws his head back, straight into the pillow. "Fuck." He whispers as one of his hands clenches around the sheet.
Without even meaning to, she speeds up her hand movements, her body reacting automatically to his pleasure. And he bucks into her hand at the new feeling, a groan, louder than before resonated pleasantly in her ear.
"Merlin, shit what the fuck are you doing to me." He moaned desperately, taking satisfaction in her warm palm, in the intense feeling in his pelvis and length. In his entire body. It was like he was high.
She giggled lightly, bashfully continuing her stroking without a notion of how the sound affected him.
An idea formed in her head, a memory of a knowledge Theo himself revealed not long ago at all. She took her other hand, which was stroking his thigh, and gripped it above the hand on his lenght, and let her thumb run over his tip, using a little pressure
And Theodore let out a moan, a borderline whine. And it didn't stop.
She continued the abuse on his tip, along with rapid strokes of his length, and different types of whines, groans and moans left him, one after one. And they were loud, too loud.
"Shhh, Theo you need to quiet down." Deep down she knew he wouldn't, especially with her continued stimulation of his cock.
"Can't- Fuck. I can't, I can't." He cried head tilted down to take a peek at her hands. Bad Idea as his length throbbed in her hands, sending him into a new fit of moans.
So she stopped. Only as an attempt to quiet him.
But it left him unsatisfied and searching for stimulation, violently continuing to buck his hips for any kind of friction, sounds of complaint echoing in the room.
"Theo you said you could be quiet, so be quiet!" She whisper-yelled desperately, pushing his hips to still with one of her hands. But he just couldn't be quiet.
Now, he was instead whining over the lack of stimulation, thrashing his head from side to side at the lost feeling.
"Theo for the love of good shut up." At the sudden stern tone, he shut his mouth and turned to her, big puppy dog eyes staring at her with admiration.
They sat quietly as she listened after a single sound. But luckily, there was none. And she could let her shoulders relax.
"Good job Theo." She smiled, and pecked his lips, him chasing after her when she sat straight again.
The pace of her hands picked up again, and Theodore tried his utmost to keep his sounds down. But it was so difficult.
And he thought he would be able to hold himself quiet until her hands sped up greatly.
She watched with awe in her eyes as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips vigorously meeting her wrist as he fucked her hand, moans of her name and whined curses fleeing his pink lips.
"Fuck. I th-think." His head arched into the mattress, interrupting his sentence with a moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-im-" She panicked as his voice took a turn for the loudest, and without thinking she slapped her hand over his mouth, although with a force that pushed his head further into the pillow.
His entire body twitched violently at the harsh gesture, and his eyelashes fluttered when white-hot pleasure overtook his entire life.
Without meaning to, he threw his hand over the one covering his mouth, gripping it tight as the other squeezed her thigh in a bruising grip. And he came with a long, guttural moan, straight into her hand as she continued to stroke him through his high. And she didn't stop, not until his body had stopped convulsing completely.
When he was done, his chest was heaving as he chipped for air, and she placed a concerned and clean hand on his chest, rubbing it slowly.
"You need to slow your breathing, don't need you to faint on me after that." He nodded lightly, head too heavy for anything else. He took her hand and bullied his breathing to a normal pace, even if it burned his lungs.
He forced his eyelids open, and her body, once again, flushed at the half-lidded look he gave her. As if she hung the moon and stars for him.
But, what he didn't know was she had a last trick up her sleeve. She raised her dirty hand to his lips and slowly and carefully licked every bit of him left on her hand.
Theodore let out a small gasp, and his handanded on her thigh massaging it to the erotic picture, fighting another hard-on with his life.
She leaned down and was about to connect her tongue to his lower abdomen, ready to lick the cum of his godly body. But she only had time to graze him before he took her cheeks in his hands, squeezing them while lifting her head in distress
"No no no!" He stressed, and she started at him with, big, questioning eyes." Fuck. I love you, but you're gonna get yourself another piece of trouble if I let you continue." A laugh of surprise jumped in her chest, looking down at her lap, her body warm and humble.
"Youre seriously amazing, you know that right." He breathed out, a smile in his voice. And a chuckle bumbled in her throat, head hazy with bliss.
cw: this is a rpf so if you don't like them then just leave me alone and get off these tags
he is a hard-core munch and would fuck you with his tongue
would beg for you to sit on his face if he ever made you mad and would pull you down onto him just so he can go deeper
Danny would have you wear his necklaces while he fucks you so he knows you're his
I feel like he'd be more into positions where he can see your face and stomach while he fucks you so he can watch the muscles in your stomach contract and see your face scrunch and eyes water
he's a hoe for eye contact, if he's eating your pussy and you look down he's gonna kiss your clit and wink at you
if you suck is dick he'd be staring at you so he can burn the image into his brain to save for later if you look up at him while you deep throat him he might bust
he's loud. he might be one of the quietest in the band but in bed he steals the show. he's either groaning or whining or maybe even whimpering in your ear. he'd talk you through it for sure. ask you how you're doing and then turn it into praise or tease you
hard core switch
he would absolutely beg you to ride his dick and cuff him up but would also be fine tying you up and calling you a slut
I might be projecting here but he would spit In your mouth either in a degrading way or with a smile
I have a request! I would love a sex with Julien HC (her as the top) the more detailed the better, love your writing ❤️
julien baker
top julien💕
minors: BITCH LEAVE
cw: smut, also rpf so if you don't like this and are still reading girl what's wrong with you
Supreme ruler of the Munch kingdom👑
I feel like jb would be a switch but when she's topping she would deff be eager to do litterally anything for you
probably a soft Dom but really just loves to see you get off
eats pussy like a god
if you go to a show in a skirt or a dress she's emmediatly pulling you into a kiss and yanking you into her dressing room and goes straight onto her knees.
when she eats she likes to have you standing to she can watch your legs shake and how your knees buckle when she sucks on your clit.
but she'll let you sit down on a couch because that way she can pull you in and hold you onto her face when you try and squirm away. also when you do that she would absolutely hold you even closer and suck harder just so you can cum when shes buried in your thighs.
would be into enthusiastic consent but would be fine with a vigorous head nod when she checks in because who is she to stop your pleasure
would mark up your whole entire body from sucking and biting with her pretty teeth
would finger you and suck your titties at the same time just because theyre so pretty
she could cry when she sees all the pretty faces when she's eating you out and looks up seeing you moaning and shaking all for her
(she has cried)
I feel like it wouldn't be her first instinct to use a strap on you but if you asked she wouldn't hesitate.
she'd finger you first or eat you out because prep is important but also would use a bunch of lube because she wants everything as smooth as possible
would start out slow but a very gradual increase of pace and force
would absolutely use musical terminology to ask how you want her to fuck you. "a crescendo of force" "do you want 3/4 or 4/4" what beat you want the most force on ect
hi babe!! do u think u could write abt protective/jealous!julien with reader? like maybe they could be dating or married but it would just be so hot and i would literally eat it up🙏🙏
love this idea 💡
also the vibe is like a very high tension friendship where you both like eachother but hasn't said anything
protective julien baker
yet again going to be blurbs bc paragraphs are hard🥺
cw: at bar with men (ugh)
even when you where just friends she already was protective of you. julien always had a sort of close knit group and she kept her favourite people close to her. she was always loyal and caring to the people she loved most.
you went out to a club with the boys to celebrate a finished tour after not seeing any of them for months. and all had been well, you got to talk with your best friends again and just let loose. she lost sight of you for a couple minutes and she could feel the panic seep in through her veins. she had just gotten back after being away for months and all she wanted to do was hang out with the people she loved the most and see the woman she is in love with. she emmediatly starts looking around franticly, she asks the boys where you where and thankfully Lucy had seen you last when you had headed off to the bar to get some drinks for the group. julien looks around and spots you and emmediatly is relieved, she is covered by a wave of calm as the panic goes away. but then she looks closer and notices a grubby slimy little man (juliens thoughts) hanging off of her precious little angel. she feels a scowl creep onto her face as her shoulders tense, and makes her way over to you while she contemplates how she probably shouldn't be as jealous as she is, but once it's started she can't really stop. maybe she would be more justified if she had actually asked you out four months ago when she had the chance but who cares because you are so clearly uncomfortable with that sweaty man hanging off of you. she can almost smell the vodka on his breath all the way across the room and she notices the way you try and politely brush him off with a smile as all of your politeness is misunderstood as interest.
you feel the warmth of someone behind you as julien wraps her arm around your waist. "hey babe" she says with a cheery smile and peels his hand off of your thigh. "hi honey" you say back as butterflies explode in her stomach as you wrap your arm around her shoulder. "who's this friend?" she stares at him out of the corner of her eye,still with her signature puppy dog smile and scoots his chair away to a propper distance with her foot. "um, not quite sure" you reply and place your head on juliens shoulder. "oh well we better get going sugar, the girls are waiting for us" she says as she kisses the top of your head(you're sitting short stuff is standing) and gently pushes your hip from behind to nudge you off the barstool.
"you ok y/n?" julien asks with a cautious smile. "yeah I'm good" you say with her arm still around you. "what was that all about though?" she pulls you a little bit tighter to her. "he was a smelly creepy dude." she shrugs. "maybe we should have gone to a gay bar" you joke as she scoots into the booth seat after you that pheobe and Lucy had gotten. "yeah." she says with a faint chuckle as she places her hand comfortably on your knee. except she knows she doesn't want to go anywhere with you that has other people. if it where a gay bar she would just be jealous but surrounded by women. she just wants to be with you, surrounded by you. it doesn't matter who's hitting on you because they aren't her.
a/n: pls request more
also I have no idea if I should post the request with the actual peice
ps: pls give feedback I have no idea what I'm doing
would steal your jewlery 100% I feel like you would see him scamper out of your room with a handful of necklaces while he's giggling and then he would have a whole stash and one day uou would find them and he would be like I can't help it
has to pet every cat he sees no matter what. (and you better pet them too because if you don't I'm like seriously questioning your mental health) (you get a pass if you're allergic) also I think he'd take pictures with all the animals he sees
if you asked him to hold your purse he would start posing with it and obnoxiously start voguing or something and almost hit someone in the face so you would have to take your purse back
or the second you hand it to him he would run away with it as a joke
when he's on tour if you aren't with him you would get like 300 photos of birds he saw and was "enamored" by. also would absolutely compare them to you
you would share clothes. end of story. (idk what size you are he would make it work pookie) like maybe it started out as you stealing maybe his hoodies or a beanie or scarf but he would absolutely take advantage of the fact that you where now sharing. it would grow into blouses and stealing eachothes jewlery. you would think you lost a necklace only to see him pictured with it on tour.
philisophical texts late at night from when he was high or just really really long voice mails
would send you videos of what they where doing on tour and I feel like he'd give you a play by play of everything. it would be like a 30 minute long video of him walking around and pointing to stuff before Sam tells him to just face time you or something.
if you ever watch a movie with him he's the type of person to start talking about the move and over the movie and eventually he just stands up and basically starts presenting
one day you're like "should I get a tatoo" and he's just all over it and whips out this sketchbook and points to other drawings and then combines a bunch of them and makes you your own design. (likes it so much he gets it on himself too)
she would absolutely insist on you doing her makeup even though she can do her own and she's absolutely fantastic at it. she secretly just wants you as close to her as physically possible. she has you sit in her lap of course, straddling her and places her hands on your hips. she would be giggling and smiling the whole time and trying not to stare. and then when you finally finished she would put kisses on your cheeks but totally just as a little friendly joke that does not at all indicate her feelings. she also can't wait to do your makeup but she knows she'll have to wait till she finally asks you out because she wouldn't be able to stop kissing you.
would be absolutely ecstatic if you asked her to do your hair or makeup for anything. it doesn't matter if you're going on a date with someone else because she knows that you and them won't work out.
she's also a teensy jealous and maybe not super totally completely fine with you going on dates but she has to contain it because it would make her feel even worse if she took it out on you and you didn't even know why.
but the second you leave for the date she's calling julien and Lucy and they keep trying to tell her to just ask you out but pheobe is stubborn and it needs to be the perfect moment.
even though in all actuality it would probably come out when you're crying over a date. maybe it just slips out when she's trying to comfort you.
would buy you jewlery whenever she goes on tour and sees anything that even remotely reminds her of you and I mean absolutely anything.
would ask you questions about how she should do her makeup for shows and just going out and would listen completely to anything you would say because she values your opinion as a friend (nothing else...)
also sends photos of every cat and dog she sees because she knows how much you love animals (if you don't then tbh my page is not for you)(unless you had a traumatic experience bc that's totally valid)
the second she gets back from tour she HAS to have a sleepover with you because she missed you so much. it would last multiple days and she would absolutely snuggle with you (totally as friends) while you watch your favourite movie that she insisted on.
(like how it started and how she acted before confessing)
also sorry if this is ass and pls request stuff bc I need inspo
you guys had a couple of mutual friends and where in the same groups and stuff and you kinda always caught her eye
Lucy probably noticed her staring right away and teased her about it
had Lucy and phoebe help her plan outings (still just friends) where they would run off so you two could be alone. like oh how convenient that Lucy and pheobe had to bail last minute and there's a hefty cancelation charge at that restaurant oh noooooo
she would have been super nervous to ask you out and probably had been planning about it and fantasizing for a while about how she would do it
has written so many songs about you because she can't get you out of her mind and especially writes a bunch when she's away from you and can't sleep
when you and the Boys where hanging out in a group and queerness came up, julien could barely contain her joy when you mentioned that you also like women she probably couldn't stop thinking about you and was just in the clouds for the next 10 minutes
whenever she has to go somewhere she would always bring you a souvenir back. ranging from a simple hoodie or beanie to some obnoxiously ugly nick-nack that julien thought was funny
before you knew she liked you she would constantly flirt with you as a joke (wasn't a joke) and lay it on really thick (she was testing the waters)
