#dark grey hip roof

[laislandia]

A large traditional front yard with brick landscaping in the spring. Photo of a large traditional partial sun front yard brick landscaping in spring.

[lihvamay1990]

Boston Landscape An example of a mid-sized traditional full sun backyard stone landscaping in spring.

[xtend-theme]

Houston Brick Image of a modestly sized, tastefully designed, two-story brick home with a hip roof.

[hadifallahpisheh]

Landscape - Traditional Landscape Picture of a medium-sized, classic, partially-shaded backyard with mulch landscaping in the spring.

[rinann]

Exterior - Siding Mid-sized rustic green two-story mixed siding exterior home idea with a hip roof

[sesakamonster]

Seattle Roofing Hip Inspiration for a large modern white three-story stucco exterior home remodel with a hip roof

[ace-turned-confused]

sea spray | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

summary: a relaxing weekend break by the sea is just what you need, but spending it under the same roof as joel miller might not be the kind of relaxing you had in mind word count: 3,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / wears a bikini & a dress / can swim, pet names, unspecified age gap, food & alcohol consumption, smut, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, spitting, creampie, overstimulation, joel's filthy mouth, praise kink, size kink a/n: i actually did spend the past weekend by the sea, unfortunately without joel miller 😔 written for @mermaidgirl30's Ocean Challenge! of course it took the entire timeframe of your challenge for inspiration to strike, but it was super fun! 🩵 big hugs to @morallyinept for beta'ing & the kind words, your message legit put the biggest grin on my face LMAO ily 💜

Going away with your parents for a long weekend is just what you need — walks along the cliff path, cocktails on the beach, lounging in the sun. Plus the bonus of free accommodation and your meals being paid for. You’re long overdue for a break and this will be a good change of scenery.

The bricks burn through your sandals as you unload your bags. Midday sun blazing down on you, you’re desperate for a cold shower after two hours of traffic to get here.

“Hello?”

You’re met with silence as you push open the front door, a rare breeze coming through the windows. They must’ve gone into town. Kicking off your shoes, you pad through to your room at the back of the house and dump your bags.

You peel your clothes off and run a shower, washing off the sweat and stress of the morning. Unpacking your bags, most of your weekend attire is swimsuits and dresses; you’ll just be floating around the house the rest of the day and decide on a blue and white check bikini, pulling on plain linen shorts.

Making your way upstairs, the rest of the house is still, the only sound coming from slow waves rolling against the rocks. Kelp bobs up and down in the swell and wispy clouds dot the sky, you pull your phone out to snap some pictures to send to your friends, relishing in the tranquillity.

You hear muted footsteps and turn around, expecting to see your parents come up the stairs. Instead, you’re met with Joel Miller — your dad's best friend with nothing but a thin towel hanging low on his hips.

“Oh! Didn’t uh- didn’t hear you come in sweetheart.”

Your eyes flicker down as he adjusts his towel — he clears his throat and you snap your eyes back up to his face.

“I got in about half an hour ago, I just got out of the shower. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Your old man told me to come up for the weekend, he didn’t mention what time they’d be back this afternoon though.”

You nod and turn to look outside again, the image of Joel in his towel now burned into your mind. You don’t ask him about it — no possible explanation would stop your mind from wandering.

You were much younger the last time you saw him — just a sweet girl harbouring an innocent crush on a handsome man. Now you’re far from sweet, and that crush is far from innocent. This is the most you’ve ever seen of him — greying curls in every direction, wide chest into a soft tummy, dark trail of hair below his navel disappearing beneath his towel.

You can feel a wet spot forming on your bikini bottoms — so much for a relaxing weekend.

-

Joel’s seen you in passing and heard about your various achievements and adventures from your parents, but it’s been years since he spent so much time with you in such close quarters. He can’t remember you being so… grown up.

Seeing you stand there in just your bikini, your eyes flitting down to his towel, he almost instantly began to harden. Maybe some light conversation will calm him down.

“So, what you got planned for the rest of the day?”

You turn to face him again and he takes a steadying breath.

“I was gonna head down to the beach but it’s fucking hot out, so I think I’ll just be lazy here instead.”

“Pool’s nice if you’re keen on a swim.”

You slink past to head downstairs, stopping in front of him to look up at him.

“You wanna join me?”

“Think I’ll uh, sit this one out. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Scratching at the nape of his neck as you descend the stairs, he’s not sure how he’s going to survive this weekend. He shouldn’t be looking at you like this — you’re young, spritely, his best friend’s daughter — but he watches out the window anyway as you pull down your shorts, glass in hand, and dip down into the water.

He sneaks off to his room before you can notice.

-

Sitting on the edge of the bed with his head tilted to the ceiling, he’s already fully hard. He lets the towel fall open and wraps a hand around his throbbing cock. He shouldn’t do this, but who’s going to know?

Stroking himself with long, slow pumps, he closes his eyes and all he can see is you. Ass peeking out the edge of your bottoms, your tits spilling out your bikini top, so much skin. You sighed as you sat down in the water, a breathy, satiated sound — he wishes he could make those sounds spill from your mouth.

Precome leaking from his tip, he’s reaching his end embarrassingly fast. Speeding up to fist himself tightly, he imagines your hand wrapped around his cock instead. He imagines burying his tongue, fingers, cock into your cunt, tight and wet and his to have however he pleases.

It takes just one, two, three more strokes of his cock and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back a moan as he comes, spilling milky ropes across his hand and lower stomach. Using the same towel to clean up his mess, he tells himself he won’t do this again, he can’t do this again.

He shifts up to lean against the headboard as he comes down from his high, deciding to stay clear of you until your parents get home. Keeping you out of sight is the best way forward, even if he can’t keep you out of his mind.

-

You spend the rest of the day in the pool, nursing a Long Island iced tea and paging through your book. Joel doesn’t show face again, but it’s for the best — you can’t stop thinking about that damn towel and how easily it could slip down.

Your phone rings and pulls you from your daydreaming; you haul yourself out of the pool and pat yourself dry, fingertips wrinkled from the water. You see it’s your mom calling, and slide to answer.

You don’t get a chance to say hello and she’s bombarding you with questions.

“Hi, sweetie! How was the drive? I hope you didn’t have too much traffic. Oh! And did you see Joel? He’s with us for the weekend, maybe he went out for the day too.”

You certainly did see Joel. You still can even with your eyes closed.

“Hi, Mom. The drive was fine, and Joel’s been here the whole day.”

“That’s nice. I hope you don’t mind, you two always got along well so your father didn’t think to tell you beforehand. Listen, why don’t you and Joel come through to town for dinner with us? I’ll send you the restaurant name.”

“Yeah, okay sure. See you soon.”

“Bye, sweetie. See you.”

She hangs up the phone and you venture inside to find Joel, heading towards the spare room. Pressing your ear to the door, you don’t hear any movement. Maybe he’s sleeping.

“Joel?” You knock on the door and hear rustling, he responds a few moments later.

“Yeah? You can- you can come in.”

You nudge the door open and he’s sitting up in bed, sheets pulled to the same height his towel was hanging earlier and it takes everything you have not to stare, debate if he’s still got that towel on or is stark naked.

Stepping just over the threshold, you lean against the wall to steady yourself and focus your eyes on his face.

“My mom called, she said we must go into town to meet them for dinner. She texted me the address.”

“Sounds good, I can drive us. I’ll just uh, get ready.”

You nod and retreat from his room in silence — you’ll be able to hold a conversation once he’s fully clothed.

-

Tonight’s restaurant is right along the shoreline, carved into the cliffside. It’s a good climb down the hillside and you’re glad you’re wearing flats, mentally noting to go easy on the drinks tonight to make it back up again. Gentle waves lap against the rocks and the sea breeze is just the refresher you need after a hot summer day.

You’ve changed into a strappy dress, the hemline falling just above your knees and Joel’s in a loose button-down and board shorts. Your parents are sitting across from you, and they’d spent the better part of an hour asking you about work and romantic prospects.

Once satisfied with your answers, they turn to focus on each other, leaving you and Joel to your own devices. With them both engrossed in conversation, you try and test the waters.

You shift your legs under the table and bump your knee into Joel’s — his hand falters as he scoops more food onto his spoon, but doesn’t pull away. You push further, pressing your thigh against his and he stills completely, peering at you out of the corner of his eye.

The unfortunate combination of the summer heat and your heavy hand when pouring your drink earlier has made you fearless. You snake a hand below the table, resting it dangerously close to the growing bulge in his shorts.

He drops his spoon, catching your dad’s attention.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, uh… Yeah, fine.” He swallows and gives them a tight smile, waiting for them to continue their conversation.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Joel practically hisses at you under his breath, eyes flashing in your direction.

You ignore him and flatten your hand, unsure if the heat you can feel is radiating from him or yourself. You continue moving upwards, the tips of your fingers brushing against the outline of his cock.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” You whisper back to him, unmoving in your chair.

You start palming him through his shorts, angling your head to look at him and a fresh wave of arousal floods your panties.

“Sweetheart, you can’t be doin’ this. Not here.”

“Say stop and I will.”

His eyes flutter closed, taking in a shaky breath. It feels like he’s already fully hard.

Just when you think you’ve won, your parents stand up and you rip your hand away, heart racing in your chest. Caught up in your teasing you hadn’t noticed they’d finished dessert and paid the bill. You look at your dad with wide eyes, hoping nobody saw anything.

“Nice dinner, everyone. Good to have you here, kiddo. We’ll see you back at the house, been a long day.”

“Um, yeah, we’ll follow you guys.” You hope you sound less startled than you feel. 

He rounds the table, a hand coming down on your and Joel’s shoulders and he walks off. You and Joel stand to follow him — your mind foggy with lust, you can feel his eyes burn into you, but you don’t dare look at him.

-

Arriving home after a charged car ride with Joel, your parents say goodnight and their door shuts behind them. The room falls silent, you’re unsure who will make the first move. Joel grabs onto your arm, dragging you through the house.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me now, sweetheart. You’re gonna finish what you started.”

He pulls your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Pushing you onto your bed, his eyes trail up and down your figure as you lie before him.

“What were you doing all afternoon? Didn’t see you at all.”

“You wanna know what I was doing?”

You nod and he leans down to speak into your ear, voice low and raspy.

“I was thinkin’ of you, baby. That skimpy little bikini of yours got me all hard, so instead of spendin’ my time out by the beach, I was jacking off in my room and all I could think of was you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, a small whine escaping at his words.

“Thought a lotta things about how you’d be, now we’re gonna see how much of it is true.”

He pushes you down to lie on your back, pulling your panties down. You try to cross your legs out of habit and he grabs your knees, spreading you open before him.

“Now we’re shy, are we? Don’t want me seeing this pretty pussy?”

He cups you entirely and you tilt your hips, chasing the friction of his palm against your clit.

“After that little game you played just now, you’re gonna take what I give you, and you’re gonna enjoy it.”

He wraps his arms under your legs, dragging you to the edge of the bed and drops to his knees, draping one leg over each of his shoulders. You look down at him and he stares into your eyes, flattening his tongue against you and licking a broad stripe up through your folds. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling in tight circles and your head falls back against the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Joel.”

He chuckles into you, causing you to moan again.

“Better than the boys you normally go out with?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer, tongue circling your clit again and he drags his fingers up and down, coating them in your arousal. Pushing two fingers into your cunt, the stretch is already far more than with your own — you’re not sure how you’ll ever satisfy yourself after this.

He pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, curling them upwards and you feel heat spreading across your abdomen, your legs just beginning to tremble. You move your hands into his hair, tugging on his curls and he groans against you, speeding up his movements.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Please, Joel. Oh, god, please.”

“Go on then, come. I know you can.”

You tighten your grip on his hair, legs going stiff as you come on his fingers and his movements don’t stop, tongue flicking back and forth over your clit, fingers fucking into you relentlessly to drag out your high. With no chance to recover, he pushes a third finger into you, his pace never faltering.

“Joel, please. It’s too much.”

He pulls off from you just enough to speak, a devilish grin on his face.

“Say stop and I will. I told you you were gonna take what I gave you.”

Mouth latching onto you again, he ignores your protesting, eyes boring into your own. You can see him rutting into the side of the bed and your moans turn into whines and whimpers, the heat pooling at the base of your spine more intense than before.

“Come on, sweetheart, be a good girl for me.”

Pushing his free hand down onto you, he curls his fingers inside of you, grazing over that one spongy spot and your vision blurs. You dig your heels into his back, hips lifting off the bed as you come again, a warm stream of liquid soaking his beard that’s scratching at your inner thighs.

Chest heaving as you come down, he pulls his fingers out and sucks one into his mouth, licking it clean.

“Better than I imagined.”

He leans over you, shoving his other two sticky fingers into your mouth and you whine at tasting yourself on him.

“All that messing around and look where it got you.”

He unbuttons his shirt agonisingly slowly, a smirk spreading across his face. His eyes are blown wide, beard slick with your release as he trails his fingertips up and down your leg, the small hairs standing in his wake. You close your legs and flop back onto the bed, already feeling spent.

“Just one more thing I needa see for myself.”

Finally pulling his shorts down, that tantalising trail of hair you saw this morning spreads into wiry curls surrounding the base of his cock. He’s bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with, fully stiff as he takes himself in his hand with long strokes — thick, throbbing, and precome pearling from his tip.

“Are you gonna fuck my mouth?”

He draws circles into your leg, still stroking himself.

“Not this time. Wanna feel how tight this pussy’s gonna squeeze my cock.”

Not this time. You clench around nothing in anticipation, and he starts crawling up the bed to you.

“Be good and maybe we can use that mouth of yours another day.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, Joel drags himself through your wetness, nudging the tip of his cock against your clit.

“Gonna be a tight fit, sweetheart. Might just ruin this cunt for anyone else.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, both of your eyes locked on where you join. Pushing in just past his tip, your mouth falls open with a strangled moan.

“Warned you. Feels good, doesn’t it?” All you do is whimper in response.

“Gonna feel even better.”

He sheaths himself completely inside of you, hair at his base pressed against your clit and balls pressed against your ass. It’s the most stretched out you’ve ever been — it’s also the best you’ve ever felt and he hasn’t even started moving.

He leans over you and starts grinding his hips, pulling your bra down. Pinching a hardened nipple between his fingers, he takes the other into his mouth, swirling his tongue just the same as before.

You lock your ankles behind his back, legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him as if you’d float away. He lifts his head, a trail of spit connecting his lips to your breast. Bringing a hand up to your face, he squeezes your cheeks to force your mouth open, looking into your eyes as he spits into the back of your throat.

You moan quietly, clenching around his length and he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“Dirty girl. You let other boys spit into your mouth, too?”

You shake your head clumsily and tighten your legs, trying your hardest to grind yourself against him.

“What’s wrong, baby? What happened to it’s too much?”

He straightens up and pries your legs off him, pressing them into your chest. His eyes are dark as he watches how you squirm and stretch around him. He angles his head forward, letting another string of saliva fall from his mouth onto your cunt and it drips down around his cock.

Using two fingers, he puts slight pressure on your clit but doesn’t move.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, and then I’m gonna come inside you. Understand?”

You’re not sure how to string words together on your own accord anymore, clit throbbing and cunt stretched out, mind filled with just Joel.

“Hey, repeat after me, come on: I’m gonna be a good girl.”

“I’m gonna be a… a good girl.”

“Next: I’m gonna come on your big cock.”

“I’m gonna come- on your big cock.”

“And to finish off: You’re gonna come inside me.”

“You’re… gonna come inside me.”

“Was that so difficult?”

He readjusts his grip on your legs and starts pounding into you, the force of his thrusts shifting you up and down, your clit rubbing against his steady fingers. Your moans are only broken by the need for more air, your voice becoming hoarse and getting higher and higher in pitch as he keeps going harder.

You start clamping down on him, the day’s heat and your teasing and the way he’s using you relentlessly quickly becoming too much.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’ve been such a good girl. Come one last time for me and I’ll fill you up.”

His words push you over the edge and he keeps fucking into you as you come. You reach down to hold onto him, your hands wrapping around his arm and you dig your nails into his skin, carving out crescent moons.

Through the ringing in your ears, you can hear him grunting, his resolve finally breaking after a few more thrusts as he spills inside of you, your walls coated in his spend as the warmth spreads throughout your body. He loosens his hold on your legs, bringing them down and massages your tired muscles.

Pulling out of you, you feel his come slowly leak out and down your folds, landing in thick droplets on the sheets. You turn onto your side, sleep already creeping up on you and he drops down behind you, his chest pressed against your back and softening cock against your ass.

“We’re going to the beach tomorrow, and I wanna see what other little outfits you got with you. Try another game like you did tonight, though, and I’m gonna have to put you in your place again.”

You huff a laugh, a gentle, satisfied smile on your face. This long weekend is suddenly far more exciting than you prepared for.

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[salainen]

Covered - Deck Deck: Idea for a sizable backyard transitional deck with an addition to the roof

[httyd-mc-pl-twilight]

Siding - Exterior

[little-annie]

Thank you to the oh so talented Emily for this com. It perfectly captures the feeling of my fic Sundays.

"

Eddie moves to kiss the aforementioned freckle, pressing his lips to Steve's waist, "I think I remember that one," he says, "we were old, grey and weathering, the sky was dark and the sound of rain was beating against the roof. We'd moved to a cabin, out by some lake, spending our days in the nature and the silence. You let me take you on the kitchen table-" 

Steve interrupts with a snicker at that, saying, "I thought we were old."

"Oh hush, I'm telling you a story-'' Eddie pokes Steve's cheek, moving, situating himself laying how he was when the thought of love throughout lifetimes came to mind, then he continues, fingers circling over Steve's chest, "We were old, but that doesn't mean I couldn't love you. I kissed every inch of your body that night, much like I am now. Each soft embrace punctuated with the presses of my hips or the thunder in the sky. I told you of all the reasons you were loved, of all the times we'd spent together. It was a beautiful thing you know, the way we moved together, I think you may have even cried."

And maybe he expected that to make Steve laugh, but from the spot he's pressed against the man's chest, Eddie hears a sniffle, quiet, trying to go unnoticed. He pulls himself up, a gentle kiss to Steve's salt stained lips, a single silent tear rolling down his cheek and it's then that Steve whispers against the embrace, "I think you're wrong Eds, I don't think that one's happened yet."

"

[amjustagirl]

chapter 4

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 5k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

When you blink open your eyes, you find yourself back in the Hoshina family estate. 

The garden is exactly as you remember it. Bonsai trees, neatly manicured. The white gravel ocean raked with ripple lines. Heat shimmers off the ground, harsh summer sun bearing down on the tiled roof. A young man with dark hair and sad, violet eyes sits across you. 

“Soshiro”, you cry, fumbling to your feet. 

He looks right through you even when you’re standing right before him. 

He’s wearing the navy hakama he reserves for formal occasions, the family crest embroidered in gold thread on the back, a ceremonial katana strapped to his hip. Something’s about to happen, you realise, the compound bustling with servants carrying paper lanterns. No one pays you any notice as you float behind him down the familiar corridors of the house, a ghost. 

His father approaches, severe lines running through his forehead. “You know your duty”, he claps his son’s shoulder with a heavy hand. 

Soshiro’s shoulders slump, an invisible weight bearing down on him. 

His duty awaits outside the estate’s gates. 

A young woman, clearly noble born, waits for them to greet her with her chin in the air, dolled up in matrimonial white, surrounded by a retinue of servants. She tilts her chin higher to assess her groom as he offers her his arm before bowing her head demurely, letting him help her up the stairs. 

The sun in your eyes forces you to turn away. Another woman catches your gaze, the profile of her face backlit in the blue-grey dusk. Rough hands, a cheap, cotton yukata, she hides in the shade. Her anguish is apparent in the defeated curve of her mouth. 

She’s you, you realise, with even sadder eyes. 

This is a dream, you tell yourself. A shitty, crappy excuse of a dream that you probably caused by drinking one too many cans of beer. You really should take better to maintain a healthy REM cycle, maybe pick up some meditation or exercise, because heaven knows your psyche will suffer if your subconsciousness decides to torture you in your sleep too.  

You close your eyes. 

You still don’t find yourself back in your bed. Instead, the stench of manure hits you, then the scratch of straw under your feet. That sad girl - you, in another life perhaps, kneels before the same dark haired boy, Soshiro, still as a statue.  

“The horse is saddled. We can ride somewhere, far away where no one knows either of our names, leave all of this behind. You don’t have to get married to a woman you don’t love -” 

He’s carved of marble in the moonlight, doesn’t move to meet her gaze, not even when she tugs at his sleeve. “I am but a second son, but even I know my duty to my clan.” 

“And what about love?” she asks. “What about me?” 

Neither of them notice you when you tumble out of the stable into the night. But there’s nothing but darkness looming before you, the moon nowhere to be seen, and when you turn back, the stable has disappeared. In its place, a familiar, wooden hut, where a fire grows. The heat of the forge stings your face, ash flying, the smell of burning steel in the air. 

This time, Soshiro’s in the lacquered leather of a samurai warrior from centuries past. “Is it ready?” he directs his question at the woman in the forge. 

Wordlessly, she hands him the sword in her hand, red hot from hammer and tongs. He weighs it in his hand, swings it once, twice, flashing quicksilver in the dim light of the blacksmith’s forge. You recognise the blade. You’ve seen it hung up in one of many sitting rooms in the Hoshina estate, captioned as belonging to a Hoshina ancestor who never returned home. 

You understand why her voice quivers when she calls out to him before he leaves. “My lord”, she says. “Will you ever lay down your sword?” 

“Perhaps in another life”, he replies. 

In the shadow of the forge, the violets in his eyes wither and die. 

You cannot bear to watch this play out before you again and again, a twisted loop you’re powerless to stop. There is nothing you can do to shock yourself awake, a ghost in every lifetime you freefall through, so bone weary, you stop running, sink to your knees. Wherever you are, the nightmares stop once you close your eyes. The damp grass is cool against your back, the darkness becomes soothing. It’s easy to lose yourself to a deep, undisturbed sleep. 

(wake up) 

The thrum of your heartbeat starts to still. You think you hear a faint echo. It sounds like Soshiro.

For the first time in your life, you hesitate to answer. 

(please, wake up)

“But it’s comfortable here”, you say to no one at all. “I’m so tired.” 

The neverending grind of work, of long hours spent hunched over glowering flames and complicated weapon blueprints. The dull ache of heartbreak, the painful lesson of learning to be okay alone. 

“Let me sleep”, you whisper. 

The darkness holds you close, blankets you. It’s too easy to let yourself just be, no one to disappoint, no one who disappoints. You let yourself be pulled beneath the tide, the endless ebb and flow lulling you into a dreamless slumber. 

Perhaps you could be content like this. 

Perhaps not. You think of the menagerie of plants you’ve gathered, they depend on you for food and water. There’s a pottery class on Sunday that you’ve been excited to attend, an abstract pot that you want to attempt. You’re supposed to meet your mother for tea, you’re looking forward to feasting on peaches, in season in the dying weeks of summer. 

Your eyelids are still heavy with the weight of sleep, but you force them open. A streak of pain that shoots through your right side, but you slowly sit up anyway. A sea of hydrangeas,  shimmering violet-blue in the early morning light stretches before you.

An achingly familiar voice calls your name. You lift your face to meet the rising sun, feeling its warmth flicker through you. 

Your heart begins to hum. 

You’re not in your own bed when you crack your eyes open. 

The room is too white, too pin-neat. There are clear tubes running from your arms, bandages restricting even your slightest movement, not that you really can do much other than shift about the too-narrow bed you’ve found yourself in, the sudden brightness disorienting you. 

“Oh!”, an unfamiliar voice exclaims. “Call the doctor, she’s awake!” 

Your head threatens to split open. It hurts too much to stay awake. 

You fall back into a dreamless sleep.

You drift in and out of consciousness after that, the pull of sleep still irresistible, but you stay awake for longer periods of time. Doctors poke and prod at you, nurses fuss over you. It’s hard to recall any conversations you have during this time, your memories melding almost into your dreams. 

People ask you questions about your name, your age, where you’re from. It feels as if you’re stuck underwater, it’s a struggle to gasp for enough air at times to answer them, but you think you find enough brain cells to rub together in the cotton wool jumble in your head, mumble the right answers so they go away. 

Your parents show up to visit you. 

‘’Llo”, you mutter. Your father looks strangely old, your mother tired. 

You’re pleased that your mother brings chopped peaches for you, less so when you realise you have no ability to swallow solid food just yet. They disappear for a hushed conversation with the doctors, leaving you with little distraction so you drop back off to sleep. 

The next time you wake, the room is dark. 

Even in the dim glow of machines beeping, you make out the faint outline of a boy you know too well, curled up uncomfortably in a plastic chair. “S‘ro”, you mumble, half asleep. 

A flurry of movement. He appears by your uninjured side, staring at you wide-eyed, as if he doesn’t believe you won’t disappear. You wonder if he’s another figment of your dreams because he stands so still drinking his fill of you, until he remembers to breathe again. 

“Hey”, he says hoarsely.

“Mmph”, you grunt. In your vague, rambling train of thoughts, you register surprise that he’s even here. “S’ work?”

His laugh is wet. “Are you seriously askin’ me ‘how’s work’ right now?” 

You frown. Why - why is Soshiro even here? 

“I’m here for you, silly”, a warm hand settles on your left arm. “Go back to sleep. I’ll seeya later.” 

You start to stay awake for longer stretches at a time. 

Your parents gently fill you in on your situation. You were touch and go for a while, your mother recounts tearfully, your head injury making the doctors doubt you’d ever wake. You had to be cut open to stop internal bleeding in your gut, fix a multitude of shattered bones in your right hip and leg. Burns, on your shoulder and arm which required skin grafts, extensive medication to keep infection at bay. 

Everyone treats you like you’re made out of glass even as your condition steadily improves, aided by the wonders of kaiju regenerative technology. Your parents fuss over you like a child, tucking you in too tight beneath starched hospital sheets. The nurses refuse to let you shower, only allowing you sponge baths which you detest. 

Soshiro’s the worst of the lot. 

At first it's endearing how protective and sweet he is. The doctors give him a wide berth, most of the nurses terrified of him, though he swears that he’s been utterly polite when you question him about it. He doesn’t allow you to do anything yourself, not even hold your own cup of water when you drink. Your bedside is overflowing with colourful greeting cards, half of them signed by him, and he brings you a fresh bouquet of flowers during each visit. 

“That boy is besotted with you”, one of the nurses who isn’t intimidated by Soshiro trills in with her unsolicited opinion. “It’s adorable.” 

He’s not”, you deny, frowning. “We’re just friends.”  

It’s a little too much. The only visitor who doesn’t smother you is Sochiro, who snaps back to his usual self the minute you show a little of your usual snark. “Did you break your head too?” you ask, when he arrives bearing a hamper of fruit. 

“Impertinent brat”, he snaps back. “I’ll have you know my father put me up to this.” 

You grin. “I suppose that’s where your brother got his manners from. Pity you don’t have any.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t storm out of the room. Instead, he brandishes a small, silver knife and starts peeling fruit. “I never wanted a younger sibling”, he grouses. “Should’ve dropped Soshiro in the drain the minute he was born, then I’d never have to deal with your smart mouth -.” 

“Aww”, you coo. “Hoshina Sochiro, Captain of the Sixth Division, getting soft in your old age.” 

“Shut it”, he snaps, while stuffing perfect wedges of fruit into your palm. 

It reminds you of the easy friendship you had with Soshiro, not the way he’s behaving, almost as if he feels anything more than friendship for you - which he’s confirmed to your face that he mostly does not. It confuses you, the tender way he treats you, the lingering stares when he thinks you’re asleep, and you much prefer him to go back to the way he was before. 

“Stop it!” you finally burst, when his smothering becomes too overwhelming. “Treat me like your friend - not like I’m some glass figurine you’re trying to keep safe.”

A plastic chair screeches back. He stares at you. “Do you even realise how close you were to dyin’?” 

“Sorta”, you reply, though some gaps remain empty in your memories, “but I’m okay now, and ‘sides, what happened was just bad luck -”

“No it wasn’t just luck”, he replies. “It wasn’t. It wasn’t.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Something shutters behind his eyes. “It’s my fault you’re hurt.” He angles himself away from you. “I crashed into your building.” 

“The kaiju threw you into the building”, you correct. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He lunges forward to grip your bed rail, his sudden intensity scaring you. “I could’ve been the cause of you dyin’-”

“My head’s pretty hard”, you try to diffuse the building tension with a joke. “Would take more than a fallin’ building to kill me.”

He makes a strangled sound of outrage in his throat. “Don’t. Just - don’t.” 

His tone is devoid of its usual lightness. He’s - he’s angry, scared, face twisting into a scowl, body coiling, as if preparing for an attack. “You’re upset”, you murmur. “Don’t be.” 

“You could’ve died.”

“Hey”, you beckon him forward, lifting your uninjured hand off the bed to place it on top of his. He grasps at it, a drowning man clutching at a lifeline. 

“It’s okay”, you say gently. “I’m okay.” 

“Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I’ll try my best”, you offer. 

An angry sound escapes through his clenched jaw, his face strained. You brush the skin of his wrist with your thumb until the too-quick staccato of his pulse steadies. 

“Go to sleep”, he finally says. “Just stay safe.” 

After that, something shifts. Soshiro resumes the mantle of his chaotic, goofy self. 

“I’m gonna yell at you when you’re better”, Soshiro huffs the next time he visits. “A daikaiju -it was a nine on the fortitude scale, y’know - decides to attack near you, and you not only choose to stay put, you run back into a collapsing building for whatever reason -” 

“I was trying to save some of the blades -” 

“How about you focus on savin’ your own damn skin -” 

You sniff, deliberately closing your eyes. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

“Oi”, he grounds out. “Stop pretendin’.” 

The reappearance of the playful banter you’re used to sharing with him puts you back at ease. “Don’t you need to sleep too?” you ask, staring pointedly at the purple smudges beneath his eyes. “In a bed, not a hospital chair that’s going to give you a crooked neck.” 

“S’fine”, he always replies. “Still way more comfortable than sleepin’ out in a forest durin’ kaiju hunts.” 

“Still”, you insist. “You don’t have to visit me so often. I know how busy you are with work.” 

He squints at you. “Do you not want me to be here?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it -”

“Sometimes work can take a backseat.” 

You beckon him forward, place a hand against his forehead. “No fever”, you pronounce. “That’s odd -  the Hoshina Soshiro I know would never say that unless his mind is addled by illness-” 

He pulls away with a splutter, cheeks a furious pink. 

But awkward moments like this remain, no matter how much you try to keep your conversations light, breezy. There’s a tension Soshiro carries, especially apparent in the broad lines of his shoulders. He’s nervy, jumpy almost, the unguarded hitch in his breath when he draws in just a little too close. There’s something he’s keeping in, deep inside his chest that keeps trying to explode out of him whenever he’s not careful. 

There’s a glimpse of that when you tell him of your plan to move back to Osaka to continue recuperating under your parents’ roof. You’ll miss your apartment where you navigated much of your young adult life, the routines you’ve built for yourself. But you’re tired of living in the hospital, sleeping on a too-hard bed, without much privacy from nurses who pop in and out of your room at odd hours at all times. Your parents agree to ferry you to check-ups and appointments, and they even got your brother to transport your plants to make you feel more at home. 

“You’re not leavin’ for good, surely”, he frowns. 

“I’m not sure”, you shrug. “Izumo Tech does have offices in Osaka, and there isn’t much tying me to Tokyo anymore. 

There’s a sudden lull in the conversation as Soshiro falls silent, face stricken. He opens his mouth as if to speak, once, twice, before shutting it deliberately,  Then his face slackens into a childish pout. 

“Don’t go”, he whines. “Who would I hang out with when I’m off-duty?” 

Caught off guard from this sudden change in mood, you refrain from pointing out that you’d each taken turns to studiously ignore the other before. “You’ll survive”, you pat his hand. “And, on the rare occasions you actually find the time away from work, you’re always welcome to visit me in Osaka.” 

“I will”, he replies, so seriously that your traitorous heart skips a beat. 

“I doubt you’ll get enough time off work”, you brush him off lightly before changing the subject. 

You don’t expect him to visit, not when Osaka is two and a half hours away from Tokyo on the shinkansen, but he turns up at the doorstep of your parents’ apartment with roses, dusty pink like the flush up his neck. 

“Hoshina-kun”, your mother exclaims. “Come on in!”

Something is up. Your mother bustles around, ushers him into your room, lays out before him an offering of cut fruit. Surprised at the tableau before you, you blink, looking up from your book. 

“Don’t you have to work?” 

“I do have days off, y’know.” He says, easing you into your wheelchair. 

“Thought you said killing kaijus isn’t a nine to five job”, you remind him pertly. 

He tweaks your nose. “Don’t be smart”, his eyes crinkle as he laughs, rolling you out of the confines of your parent’s house to a nearby park to enjoy the crisp cool autumn breeze, settling you down in the shade beneath a sprawling gingko tree. 

“Well, how’s work?” 

He considers you with a sideways glance. “I refuse to answer”, he says primly. “If I do, you’ll make use of it to accuse me of being obsessed with my job.”

“Aren’t you?” 

“This is exactly what I mean”, he throws his hands out dramatically. “Shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here -” 

“Actually”, you tease. “Isn’t the train fare really expensive? Can you afford that on your pay?” 

“The Defense Force’s generous enough to give me food, clothing and a roof over my head”, he replies drolly. “So I think my bank account can take the occasional hit.” Then, he shoots another mock glare your way. “Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about work or anything related to work.” 

“Then I guess there’s nothing else to talk about”, you tap your chin thoughtfully. 

“Idiot”, he wrinkles his nose. “We haven’t even talked about how you’re doing.” 

“Me?” 

Exaggeratedly, he takes a look around. “I don’t see anyone else I could be askin’ about -” 

“You wanna hear about my boring doctor appointments?” 

His eyes are wide, earnest. “I wanna hear about everything.” 

The sudden seriousness of his demeanour catches you off-kilter. Haltingly you tell him about the long check-ups that take hours, the doctors being optimistic about your progress, the physiotherapy sessions you’ve started. You’re slowly starting to walk again, a few steps at a time, giving you hope that you’ll be on your own two feet by the time of your brother’s wedding at the end of fall, even if you have to rely a little on crutches. 

“I’m talking too much”, you say, looking down at your lap. 

“Don’t stop”, he urges. “Keep talkin’.” 

A snort. “You’re gonna get sick of the sound of my voice”, 

“What a silly thing to say”, his gaze holds yours, steady, sure. 

There’s something impossibly soft in his eyes, a tenderness in the curve of his mouth. You don’t dare to put a name to it yet, don’t even dare to look too closely at it lest you lose yourself to daydreams that can’t possibly be true. Yet, in the purpling dusk, even though the seasons dictate that there be no summer flowers this late in the fall, there’s a bud of hope in your heart that starts to unfurl, petal by petal, twining itself between the ribs of your chest. 

(i like you)

(i’m sorry)

You remind yourself that your heart is not quite healed. Stitches remain, fleshy scars pink and raised. Ventricles working overtime to compensate for the damage he’s wrought just months prior. Mercilessly, you prune those hopes like unwanted weeds, chopping away at errant stems and leaves. 

“I’m tired”, you break away from his gaze. “Shall we call it a day?” 

He makes it difficult for you to safeguard your heart. 

Once a week, he makes the trek from Tokyo to Osaka without fail, appearing at your parents’ door with a bouquet of flowers and a bag bursting with fruit, whatever is in season - peaches and peonies, apples and chrysanthemums. Picnics when it’s sunny, cafes or supermarkets when it rains. Your mother has a sudden change of heart regarding him, always asking you when he’s coming to take you out next.  

“Seriously, don’t you have work?” you demand. “You can’t keep coming down here, it’s ridiculous.” 

“Is it?” he asks quietly. 

“It is”, you reply. “It’s a waste of your time and money.” 

With careful, calloused fingers, he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. “What must I do to make you believe it’s really, really not.” 

You flinch, cramming your thrumming heart back into the confines of your chest. “You’re ridiculous”, you say as calmly as you can. If your leg weren’t still broken, you’d flee in the other direction, put as much distance as you can between you and Hoshina Soshiro, for fear of losing your heart again to him. 

He’s relentless, a quality that makes him an excellent swordsman and soldier, though it does not bode well for your heart. You spend the next few weeks keeping your conversations light, unsentimental, refusing to allow that unnamed emotion budding  in his eyes flourish any further, he remains undeterred. You catch him watching you sometimes, with something you don’t dare to name that bleeds into you, spreading the seeds of hope deep in your gut.  

“I’ll be back next week to see you”, he always says. “Stay safe.”

You should tell him to leave you alone, let you replant your heart in another pot, give it a chance to learn to stop looking towards him for his light. But the words choke in your throat, and it’s all you can do to look the other way. 

You don’t get any respite even at your own brother’s wedding. 

It’s too large, too crowded an occasion, your parents booking out a banquet hall in an upscale hotel to cram in their swarms of guests. As the younger sister of the groom, you’re expected to greet each and every guest, thank them for their attendance even if you’d much rather be at home, warm and snug in bed. Instead, your head threatens to split open, your hip’s on the verge of falling apart. You curse your stubbornness in insisting against bringing your wheelchair, the crutches you lean on cutting into the tender flesh of your underarms.  

“Did anyone tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” 

As it was in your dreams, he’s in a haori, deep blue with golden thread, but this time he looks right at you. Your mouth goes dry and you can’t seem to swallow your heart back down your throat. 

“Save your flirting for my cousins”, you retort, turning away. “They’re all aflutter at meeting you tonight.” 

He doesn’t let you flee. An arm loops around your waist, sears through the silk layers of your kimono and smoulders. “You’re cranky cos you’re tired, so let me help you.” 

You blame your capitulation on the absence of your wheelchair, not because you’re light headed from the sudden surge of helpless affection in your gut, as much as you refuse to allow yourself to believe his words. You let him steer you into your seat, palm flat against your back, heat suffusing into your skin. 

“I’ll be here if you need me”, he says simply. 

You don’t need him, you want to say, you can’t, but your mouth can’t seem to form the words when he leans in, tucks a stray strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, his touch feather light. 

“Vice Captain Hoshina!?” As you foresaw, a gaggle of younger cousins goggle at him, drag him away for selfies and autographs. You don’t get a chance to speak with him again once the wedding starts, the seating plan placing him with his parents and other business associates of your parents, a few tables away.  

The sheer scale and grandeur of your brother’s wedding isn’t what you’d have chosen for yourself, the cavernous ballroom feeling too large and impersonal, speeches dragging on for too long, but your brother and your new sister seem to radiate contentment, though you suspect the champagne toasts might have helped. 

As the sister of the groom, you’re the target of your older aunts’ inquiry as to ‘when it’s your turn next’, never mind that you burrow into your seat, trying to disappear from sight, and when that fails miserably, try to divert their attention to anything, anyone but yourself. If you had full use of your legs, you’d make a hasty retreat by now, but you’re so painfully slow on your crutches that you’re sure even the oldest grandma questioning you on your dating status (or lack thereof) would be able to catch up with you. 

“Ladies”, a smooth voice cuts in. “How are you all doin’ tonight?” 

A boyish smile with a cheeky snaggletooth works wonders on elderly ladies, you learn. It gives you the chance to slip away to the bathroom, splash water on your face, shackle your heart back in place. 

This brief reprieve doesn’t last long. Soshiro emerges from the shadows, pushing off the wall to pad quietly behind you. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand. “You should be back inside -” 

“I’m here to make sure you’re safe”, he replies. “Unless you don’t want me to make sure you don’t fall and crack your pretty head open?”  

“Stop it”, you say crossly, your crutches clacking loudly on the floor as you speed up, trying to put some distance between you two. “You’re giving everyone the wrong impression.” 

He follows right on your heels. “Perhaps I’m givin’ the right impression -” 

“Just  - just stop, Soshiro.” 

You burst through glass doors to push your way onto the open rooftop in the hope that the nighttime air will cool the heat rising in your cheeks, but you miss your step, crutches sliding on marble tiles and oof - 

Warm arms wrap tightly around you. You tell yourself it’s the shock of your almost-fall that makes you sag against a broad, lean chest, compliantly allowing Soshiro to tuck your face into his shoulders, settle an arm beneath your thighs, carrying you over onto a seat. A thick, rich fabric rests on your shoulders - his haori, you realise, the warmth from his body seeping into your skin. 

“Are you hurt?” he drops to one knee in front of you. 

The intensity of his gaze flays your chest open, exposing your beating heart, its stitches frayed. The spectre of the girl with sad eyes haunts you, leaving you terrified that you’ll suffer the same fate as her in this lifetime too. 

“I need you to stop”, you shove him back, a trapped animal brandishing its claws. “I want you to leave me alone. I don’t want your pity -” 

“Pity?!” he falls back on his haunches, gaping at you, incredulous. “Is that what you think it is?” 

“What else could it be?” you demand wetly, eyes stinging. “Nevermind, I changed my mind, I don’t want to know -” 

“Haven’t I made it obvious these past few months?” he asks, and you shake your head stubbornly, no. “What I feel for you - I’ve been goin’ crazy from the moment they told me a buildin’ fell on your head, so fuckin’ terrified I was goin’ to lose you just as I realised how stupid I’ve been -” 

Your head swims. “I don’t -” 

“I’ve loved you since I was eight. I just didn’t realise it til I nearly lost you.” 

You push aside the clouds of anger and fear blurring your vision. You see Hoshina Soshiro kneeling before you, slicing his chest open with your blade to reveal his heart, pressing it bloodied and beating into your waiting hands. 

In this lifetime, in this moment, he is yours and you are his.  

There is no guarantee that this will remain. Duty will always call upon him, and he will answer without fail. That is his destiny, as much as he is yours. Realisation crashes into you, relentless waves pulling you underwater. You will have to share him with the rest of Japan, possibly the world. This too shall end, be it tomorrow or years down the road if fate smiles down on you both. 

But even if his heart belongs to you for no more than a day, it’s enough. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

“You love me.” 

“Yeah”, he murmurs, moving so impossibly close that you see the violets in the depths of his eyes in full bloom. “And I kinda think you love me too.” 

Instead of answering, you tug him towards you, tangle your fingers in dark hair, let your lips press against the seam of his lips. He doesn’t give you the chance to breathe, arm curling around your waist, his hand cupping your face so he can tilt your chin up to pour himself into you. You drink him in, greedy to take what you can get, mouth open against his, lost to the raging current of want, of love that pulls you beneath the waves. 

“I think I do”, you say softly.  

Hoshina Soshiro smiles at you, wider and brighter than the moon. 

a/n: i hope this chapter soothes the anxiety from last week heh :>

squeal at me pls! muacks always <3

[daisies-daydreams]

OMG CAN I GET SUKUNA WITH A CHUBBY WIFE?..LIKE LETS JUST SAY HES REMEMBERING THE TIME THEY FIRST MET..obviously remembering fondly (we totally didn’t hit him cause he scared us accidentally, only to then apologize profusely.). He only gets out of his little daze when we get home, carrying TONS of bags from shopping (his money ofc…only obtained after we gave him sloppy toppy). We greet him and stuff..idk where the smut comes in tbh. 😇🙏 YOU CAN PICK IF IT DOES OR DOESNT. BE CREATIVE MAH LOVE. MWAH MWAH TAKE YOUR TIME AND HAVE FUN WITH IT. LOVE YAAAA

Lay All Your Love on Me (CEO!Ryōmen Sukuna x Plus-Sized!Wife!Reader)

Pairing: CEO!Ryōmen Sukuna x Plus-Sized!Wife!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut Warnings: Slight Angst, Oral Sex (M! & F! Receiving), Dom!Sukuna, Praise Kink, Handcuffs/Bondage, Spanking/Pussy Slapping, Mentions of Safe Words/Actions, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Creampies, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Nipple Play, Daddy Kink, Missionary/Mating Press, Mentions of Breeding, Pet Names, Swearing Word Count: 5.3k+ A/N: Sukuna simps come get your juice. 💦🧃 So sorry it took me so long to get to it dear. 😭 Thank you for your sweet & spicy request and I hope you enjoy!

Sukuna sighed as he rubbed his strained, red eyes. The computer screen glared at him with a harsh glow as his head pounded incessantly. All that time he spent in the office this past week…and he still had work to catch up on.

It should’ve been his lazy Sunday today: a day full of him lounging around the penthouse with his darling wife.

Despite the exhaustion he felt, Sukuna couldn’t help but suddenly grin when he recalled how you slipped beneath his desk earlier: fluttering your lashes and giving him your softest puppy-dog eyes. He groaned as he thought about the way you parted your mouth and wiggled your hips, pleading to help him "relieve some stress" while he worked (in exchange for some spending money, of course).

How could he refuse such a sweet offer from his adorable wife?

Sukuna’s throat tightened as the memory of how pretty your plump lips looked wrapped around his heavy cock flashed through his mind. A sudden bolt of pleasure electrified his body as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“God,” the man huffed as he felt his flaccid cock twitch beneath his grey sweats. He drew out a long, heavy sigh before leaning back and running a hand through his messy, red hair. Sukuna knew he had to finish the presentation for the new business plan before tomorrow…but his body continued to betray him with images of you in every position.

On your knees, your back, your stomach…

Sukuna sank into his seat as he bounced his leg, desperately trying to fend off the tension growing between his legs.

“Focus, damnit,” he hissed as he clenched his fists on the arms of his chair. Your husband swallowed thickly and closed his scarlet eyes, his mind beginning to wander as a light rain began to trickle over the roof of your Tokyo apartment…

Five Years Earlier

Sukuna sighed as he turned on his heel and strolled out of the private section of the decadent steakhouse. It’s been a few months since his ex-wife left him for another man - a few months of him trying and failing to start over again. He never saw himself as a romantic at heart…maybe when he was younger and not weighed down by the complexities of his career.

A career that cost him everything else in his life…

He still remembers the minute he stepped into his cold, empty home after a long business trip with only a note left behind.

“It’s just not working out between us”

The sentence sent a shiver down his spine as he approached the bar within the intricately decorated restaurant. Sukuna’s gaze lingered on a true beauty sitting at the end of the bar: a curvaceous woman clad in a black, tight dress and sparkling jewelry. He furrowed his brows when he heard her sniffle quietly.

“What can I get started for you, sir?” a dark-haired bartender inquired, pulling his attention away from the gorgeous piece of art before him. The CEO grunted as he flicked his eyes back to the rows of sparkling liquor displayed before him. He rested an elbow on the edge of the bar as he leaned forward.

“A Yamazaki, please. Neat,” he replied before shifting his gaze towards the mystery woman. Hot tears rolled down her plump cheeks as she gazed at her phone. The red-haired man frowned before he turned back to the bartender.

“And give her another one of whatever’s she’s having. Just put it on my tab,” he muttered in a low whisper while pointing towards you.

“Of course,” the bartender said before he began to prepare the two respective beverages. The CEO sighed as he drummed his fingers on the polished, wooden surface; his heart beating wildly as his palms grew clammy. Something that felt so familiar yet so distant began to grow inside of him the longer he stared at the woman: an all-consuming inferno that took root in his chest and spread from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.

He thanked the bartender for the drinks before turning to face you...only to watch as you hastily adjusted the strap of your purse over your purple rain jacket as you stomped out the revolving door. His eyes moved to find your phone resting on the surface of the bar. Sukuna's brows pinched together as he hesitated for a split second, as he walked over. A text was pulled up on your phone:

“I’m sorry. I think we should see other people”

The man's eyes grew wide as the painful, aching memory came back to him. Sukuna gripped your phone as he found himself rushing towards you.

"Sir? Sir!" the bartender called after Sukuna in vain as he followed you towards the slowly revolving doors. He nearly cursed as an entire party flooded into the restaurant as soon as you slipped through, creating a nearly impenetrable wall to the exit. Sukuna perked his head up to see the hood of your rain jacket bobbing with every step to took.

He finally broke through the crowd and stumbled into the thick blanket of rain. Sukuna gritted his teeth as strong gust of wind nearly flung him back, the image of your jacket growing smaller with every step you took.

“Hey!” he shouted. The tall man grunted as you continued to walk on, the hood of your jacket weaving through yet another crowd. Sukuna sighed and rushed towards you, the rain soaking his slicked back hair and crisp suit. It wasn’t long before he caught up to you, his chest rising and falling as he raised his hand. You gasped and tensed when he rested his palm on your shoulder.

“Hey, you forgot-“

Sukuna’s eyes widened as you spun around on your heel and swung your fist into his stomach, a sharp pain rippling across his abs as he wheezed. You gasped when you watched him drop to his knees.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” you said as he clutched his stomach. The muscular man huffed and wheezed as he caught his breath.

“It’s fine…I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that,” he coughed. Sukuna instantly relaxed when you suddenly dipped down, your jacket spread over your head as you tried to shield him from the rain. His rugged face softened he took in your gentle eyes and delicate face.

“You’ve got quite the right hook,” he chuckled with a slight wince. You laughed nervously and glanced down at your drenched heels. Sukuna cleared his throat as he slowly rose to his feet. The cold rain poured down his sharp features while he held your phone out towards you. Your eyes lit up as you took it from him, your fingertips brushing over his skin and sending a shiver down his spine.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked worriedly as you tucked your phone into the pocket of your jacket. Sukuna paused at your genuine concern. No one has given him that look in quite some time...

“I’ll be alright,” he assured while scanning you up and down. “Are you okay?” Sukuna said as he took a step closer, looming over your smaller form. You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I-I’m fine. I just wish I could repay you somehow,” you said while tucking your bottom lip beneath your teeth. How coquettish. Sukuna’s smile softened as he dipped his head a little lower to fully meet your gaze.

“How about we go somewhere dry first?" he murmured with a soft chuckle.

+++

Sukuna’s eyes widened when he heard the front door of the penthouse swing open. The sound of your heels clicking and bags rustling drew him out of his trance. He smiled when your soft face appeared in the doorway of his home office.

“Hi baby!” you squealed before gently putting your bags down. You paused and frowned when you took in the sight of him still glued to his chair. “Are you still working?” you asked. Sukuna’s smile faltered as he looked down.

“Maybe,” he muttered while drumming his fingers on the top of his thigh. Sukuna released a quiet sigh as he felt your curves glide over his lap and breasts smooth against his chest. He grinned as you slipped your arms around his shoulders and nuzzled your face into his thick neck, his own hands finding their way to caress your lower back.

“I wished you took better care of yourself, Ryō,” you confessed with a solemn whisper. Sukuna slowly pulled his head back, his brows furrowed as he felt you breathe against his neck. “You’re always working so hard…I just-” you paused and sighed heavily. “If only there was something I could do to help you…relax,” you said as you traced your fingertips along his chest with a tiny glint of mischief in your eye. Sukuna raised a brow as a his lips curved into a small smirk.

He loved it when you tried to act all coy.

You gasped when he suddenly lowered his hands and greedily squeezed your supple asscheeks. Your husband relished in the way you shivered as he grazed his warm lips over the shell of your ear.

“I can think of a few ways you could help…” he husked while tenderly kneading your plump ass. He smirked as you wiggled in his grasp, a look of pure arousal quickly forming on your face as you bit your lip. You tilted your head back as he let his lips linger over your neck, your smooth skin feeling like heavenly silk against his mouth as he grunted.

"It's been a while since we've spent some quality time together, hasn't it?" Sukuna rumbled while slowly bunching up the skirt of your dress. His eyes lit up with lust when he felt you wearing nothing but a thong underneath your already skimpy outfit.

“It’s been too long,” you breathed as he groaned while kissing behind your ear. Your hands gripped the fabric of his t-shirt as he dug his fingertips into your bum.

"Wrap those sexy legs of yours around my waist, sweetness," he purred before dipping his head back down and wrapping his lips over your pulse. His cock twitched against his briefs as he felt your barely clothed pussy grind over his crotch. "Yeah, just like that," Sukuna grunted as you slipped your legs around his tight hips, a spark of pleasure rushing through him as your sexes rubbed against each other. "Now...give me those sweet lips of yours," he whispered while tilting his head.

Sukuna smiled as you obediently parted your lips, his tongue soon slipping into your warm, slick cavern as he caught your mouth in a sloppy, passionate kiss. He groaned as you dug your nails into the back of his neck while slowly grinding your pussy against his aching dick, each swipe of your tongue around his driving him deeper into a lustful frenzy.

Your beloved's pupils grew wide when he pulled back, a thick string of spit connecting your puffy lips. He deeply gazed into your eyes before crashing into you once more, his tongue thrusting inside your mouth as the lingering taste of himself spread over his tastebuds. You squeaked as he slowly rose to his feet, the floor creaking beneath his steady footsteps as his cock threatened to burst just from the slightest graze of your soaked panties.

Sukuna grunted as he laid you down on the king-sized bed, his arms caging you in as he captured your bottom lip between his teeth.

"Fuck, I've missed this so much," he growled after gently tugging on your lip, his hands sliding on top of your thighs and pushing your dress over your puffy tummy. Your soft mewls cascaded from your pretty lips as your husband played with the thin band of your silky panties. "What are you thinking, pretty girl?" Sukuna whispered before kissing at the junction between your jaw and neck. He smirked against your pulse as you shivered against his feather-light touch.

"I...I want to suck your cock again," you moaned and arched your hips upward. Sukuna blinked as his dick twitched at your lewd request. He flicked the tip of his wet tongue against your neck before he snapped the band of your thong against your plush love handles.

“So, my little slut wants to choke on Daddy’s cock for a second time today, hm?” your husband rumbled over your pulse. You keened at the friction between your two heated bodies as he dragged his erection against your cunt.

“Y-Yes,” you whined. You yelped when your husband suddenly laid a sharp smack across your bottom, your supple flesh jiggling beneath the sudden motion as he groaned.

“C’mon, baby girl. You know what to say,” he smirked before sucking a small, tender hickey behind your ear. You shivered at his delicious touch and you gently ground your hips against his.

“Yes, Daddy,” you gulped, your plush tits rising and falling as your pupils enlarged. Your husband chuckled as he slipped away, his back soon flush against the mountain of throw pillows as he spread his legs apart.

“Good girl. Now…c’mere,” he beckoned while gently patting his thighs. Sukuna chuckled as he watched you crawl towards him: the hypnotic sway of your hips and bounce of your breasts making his cock ache for your touch. He sighed with a half lidded gaze as you nestled yourself between his legs: your mouth visibly watering as you gazed upon the growing bulge below you.

“You remember the safe word and action from last time?” he husked while slipping his fingers through your hair. You nodded as quick breaths fell past your slightly swollen lips. “Good, good,” he murmured with a small, wry smirk. Your beloved could practically feel your heart racing beneath his fingertips.

“Go on, baby girl: show Daddy how pretty those lips look wrapped around his cock,” Sukuna encouraged while gently tugging on your locks.

You wasted no time: swiping your wet, pink tongue across your lips as you hooked your delicate fingers around the band of his pants and underwear. He shuddered when his cock sprang free and slapped against his trimmed bush - the sensation of your hot breath falling over his tip was enough to make his member throb.

Sukuna watched with a lustful, half-lidded gaze as you adjusted yourself, your lips just barely grazing over the red, weeping tip of his dick before you littered it with small, quick kitten licks.

You gave him a coquettish smile before gently pressing your soft lips to his flush tip. Your husband groaned as you let your mouth linger before lapping at his dribbling slit. Sukuna grunted as a wave of pleasure washed over him when you wrapped your tight fist around the base of his shaft and slowly began to pump it while swirling your slick tongue around his head.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he felt your warm palm glide along his length as you painted his tip with your spit. Sukuna clenched his jaw as he felt you squeeze his base each time your fist came back down, jolts of arousal shocking through his throbbing sex as he tightened his grip on your hair.

“Mmm, that’s my good girl,” he whispered with a smirk while bucking his hips forward. A wet squelch fell from your mouth as his cock slipped past the tight ring of your lips, the underside of his shaft sliding over your soft tongue as you squeaked. Sukuna moaned as you hollowed your puffy cheeks, the divine suction making his dick twitch inside your tight cavern. Your eyes widened when he suddenly grabbed both sides of your head and eagerly began to thrust into your tender, warm mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” Sukuna growled as he threw his head back, the slight gag that erupted from your throat only spurning him to fuck your face even more. Spit messily seeped past your lips and dribbled onto the inside of his taut thighs and patch of dark hair. Your eyes grew half-lidded as you sank your nails into the top of his thighs, his cock plunging deep inside your tight throat as Sukuna heaved.

“Love how fucking deep you take my cock,” your husband groaned as he felt his thick shaft twitch against your hollowed cheeks.

He watched your expression and hands when he heard you gag again, only to moan when he saw you eagerly bob your head up and down his shaft in time with his sharp, feral thrusts.

“Shit, baby,” his voice faltered as his balls tightened against your soft chin. A low groan rose from his throat as he felt the knot in his lower stomach grow tighter with every snap of his hips. His hands fisted your soft, luscious hair as his heart pounded faster and faster, his mind growing numb as he felt his cock stiffen within the snug vice of your raw throat.

Sukuna’s jaw went slack the moment you moaned around his length, his cock lodged deep inside your warm esophagus as a wave of pleasure cascaded over him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” your love snarled as he kept your lips pressed against the hilt of his cock. You moaned around his length while he painted your throat with thick, white ropes of his seed. You fluttered your eyelashes as you audibly gulped down every last drop of his warm cum, your nails still sinking into his ivory skin as you flared your nostrils. Sukuna shivered as he kept his fingers wrapped between your locks, the feeling of your lips and mouth wrapped around his softening dick absolutely heavenly.

He slowly blinked his eyes open, his vision slightly blurred as he locked eyes with his darling wife. The corners of his mouth turned up as he gently stroked your cheeks while his cock softened inside your snug throat. You slowly pulled your head off of his length, curling your lips inward as you swallowed a drop of cum that lingered on your tongue. Sukuna groaned and narrowed his eyes when you showed him your pink, pristine muscle.

“Mmm, I knew you’d take every drop,” he chuckled before gently slapping his cock against your plump cheek. “My pretty, little slut,” Sukuna husked as he watched the messy trail of spit and cum glide down your face. You gasped when your husband suddenly pounced on you, his eyes hungrily raking over every curve and roll of your luscious body as he breathed against your neck.

“Now…allow me to return the favor,” he purred in a low, deep voice. You shivered when he nibbled on your earlobe as his hands slipped the rest of your dress over your breasts and shoulders. His cock was already twitching again as he rolled the fabric over your voluptuous form, his eyes drinking in every roll and dip of your body.

A quiet mewl fell past your lips as he ripped your bra off and tossed it aside, your slick panties following not long after. You shivered as he traced his fingertips down every dip and curve of your sides as he deeply inhaled against your neck.

“God, you have no idea how much I’ve missed the taste of you,” he groaned. His mind grew dizzy as the scent of vanilla and rose petals filled his nostrils…the urge to have that scent rubbed onto him growing stronger with each passing second he remained on top of you. You raised your brows when he suddenly leaned back. His eyes glowed with mischief as a wicked idea popped into his mind.

“Hold on,” Sukuna grunted before he slipped off the bed. He heard you shift on the bed as he walked over to the nightstand. A smirk stretched across his face as he pulled out a pair of scarlet, fuzzy handcuffs. Your husband chuckled when he saw your face flush as he held the device up with a single, thick finger while strolling back over.

The bed creaked as the hulking man climbed back on top of you, his muscular thighs caging you in as he gave you a wry, seductive grin. You bit your lip as you held your hands above your head and shifted beneath your beloved.

“Just remember: if it’s too much then say the safe word,” Sukuna reminded you with a husky whisper. He watched you shiver as he threaded the chain of the handcuffs behind one of the metal links of the headboard. You nodded vigorously as your chest rose and fell with every heavy breath you took.

“I promise I’ll let you know,” you murmured as he clasped the fuzzy cuffs around your wrists. Sukuna’s smile softened for a brief moment before his devilish smirk returned. His scarlet eyes flicked down to the sacred space between your legs, his mouth watering at the sight of your glistening lower lips.

"My my...are you really this wet just from sucking my cock?" he sneered before swatting his hand over your puffy clit. You moaned and thrusted your hips forward, your legs trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure. "Mmm such a needy whore for my dick- I fucking love it," your husband chuckled before planting his lips on the junction between your jaw and neck.

His cock twitched back to life as he suckled on your soft skin, drawing soft, delicate moans and squeals from your pretty lips. Your breath hitched when he slid his large hand down your puffy belly and dipped his fingers against your sex. He grinned against your neck as he heard the all too familiar squelch of your desperate, aching cunt.

"Oh, baby," Sukuna groaned beneath your neck as he slid two of his thick fingers between your wet lower lips. You whined and ground your hips against his hand, your brows furrowed in desperation for his touch. "You like it when I move my fingers like this...hm?" he mused before suddenly pressing his thumb over your bundle of nerves. Your harsh cry of pleasure rolled through the dimly lit room as he wrapped his lips below the hickey he just adorned upon your skin.

Sukuna couldn't help but smile at just how cute you were: your high-pitched moans, the way your hips bucked and wiggled even at the slightest stroke of his digits.

"You want my fingers inside you, sweetheart?" he teased against your collarbone while spreading your folds apart, your warm arousal drenching his two digits as your hole pulsed against his smooth fingertips.

You whined and nodded, only to yelp when he pinched your nipple with his free hand.

"Ah, ah - remember to use your words, (Y/N)," Sukuna purred before taking your nipple between his wet lips. Your legs jiggled as he swirled his thumb around your clit in time with circling your perky nipple with his warm, slick muscle.

"F-Fuck yes! I want your fingers, your cock...I want everything you have to stretch me open!" you wailed and arched your chest into his touch. Sukuna's eyes widened, not expecting you to break so vividly. Your nipple slipped away from his mouth as his lips curled into a devious grin.

"Is that so?" he murmured with a hungry glint in his eye. You tilted your head back and strained against the handcuffs as your beloved slowly dipped his two thick, wide digits between your walls. Sukuna gritted his teeth as your hot, greedy pussy sucked him in.

"Fuck, can't believe after all this time, your cunt’s still this fucking tight," he breathed against the mound of your breast as he shoved his digits down to the knuckles. Your tits jiggled as you inhaled sharply, your slick dripping past the lining of your raw entrance as he began to slowly pump his fingers inside you. Sukuna swallowed thickly as his cock throbbed in anticipation of being swallowed whole by your tight, gummy walls.

"D-Daddy," you keened as he dragged his long fingers inside your pliable cunt, each stroke more rough and eager than the last. A deep rumble rose from Sukuna's throat as he kissed and nipped down your abdomen, several bitemarks stretched across your tummy before he dipped his head even lower. He grinned ear to ear as you hooked your ankles around his neck, your plush thighs caging him in as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your puffy bundle of nerves.

"Ah!" you cried as he curled his fingers against your spongey g-spot. Your juices messily gushed all over his palm as you practically bounced yourself on his fingers. He gazed directly into your half-lidded eyes as he puckered his soft lips around your bud. His eyes rolled back as the sweet scent of your musk wafted through his nostrils as he played with your drenched cunt.

"Hgn, R-Ryō. F-Feels so good," you panted wildly as he swiped his tongue back and forth between your folds. He picked up the pace of his fingers as he slowly rolled your clit with his long muscle, the taste of you making his mouth water for more of your delectable juices.

"God, you taste divine," he breathed deeply before diving back in, his licks growing more sloppy as he pounded his fingers against your soft cervix. A faint pink dusted over your husband's cheeks as he moved his head back and forth. You gasped as he flattened his tongue over your juicy bud, your walls gripping his digits in a strong vice in reaction to his lewd ministrations.

"Ryōmen," you gasped as he painted quick, messy strokes over your clit while he curled his fingers deep inside you. Sukuna smirked when he felt your walls start to pulse, instantly pulling his drenched lips away as he stilled his digits inside your warm canal. Your eyes shot open as you flared your nostrils. "Ryō!" you keened as you tried and failed to fuck yourself on his wide fingers.

You instantly stopped and trembled when he nibbled on the patch of stretch marks adorning the inside of your thigh. His eyes burned with a deep, insatiable lust as he licked a bold stripe over the fresh bite mark laced into your plush leg.

"Patience is virtue, my dear," he rumbled before swiping his tongue across his lips, savoring the sweetness of your nectar before he audibly gulped it down his throat. Your skin was ridden with goosebumps as he slid his fingers out of your fluttering walls, a thick string of your arousal clinging to his fingertips before he slid his palms over your luscious hips.

Sukuna adored the way your bottom lip poked out ever so slightly as tears of pleasure laced your thick lashes.

"Aw, what a precious look you're wearing," your beloved semi-mocked as he lined his flush tip to your entrance, the sound of your slick making him as he smeared it across his smooth head. Sukuna took a deep breath as he squeezed your waist while sinking his cock past the lips of your entrance: inch by mouthwatering inch.

Your husband leaned his face down as he watched your brows pinch together and lips part to make way for your gorgeous moans. He licked his lips again before leaning close to your ear.

"But I love the face you make when I fill you with my cock even more," he grinned deviously just as he buried himself down to the hilt. Sukuna closed his eyes as he became completely drunk on the feeling of your snug heat hugging his thick, throbbing shaft. He swore he could erupt right now with how tightly your walls gripped onto his hard length.

Your husband drew out a long exhale, his hot breath falling against your cheek as he drew his hips back before snapping them forward. You moaned loudly as your eyes rolled back into your skull, your rolls and curves jiggling each time your beloved's hips slapped against yours. Sukuna released a gutteral groan as he fucked you with a slow, steady rhythm.

"You feel me deep inside you, baby?" the red-haired man grunted as he pressed his hand down on your cute belly. You only answered with a high-pitched cry as his hard length stretched your walls apart. Sukuna nipped at your earlobe as he pressed down even more, your pussy clenching around his shaft at his small action. "Feel my fat tip pounding against your cervix, hm?" he smirked before sliding his hands from your hip and stomach to beneath your knees.

Your squeals echoed through the bedroom as he tilted your legs up, your plump breasts squishing against your knees as the bed frame creaked with every feral thrust of his sharp hips. Sukuna's chest heaved as his muscular body tensed above you, his fat balls slapping against your slick crack as he fucked your puffy cunt completely raw. You screamed and thrashed as his mushroom-like tip massaged your g-spot each time his hips met with yours.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous," he grunted as he gazed into your wet, glossy eyes. The chain of the soft handcuffs clinked against the bedframe as he roughly slammed his dick inside your pulsing heat.

"R-Ryō! I'm so close!" you moaned and arched your back as your soft walls clenched on his girthy shaft. Sukuna clenched his sharp jaw as his hands squeezed the back of your plush knees, the divine suction of your slick pussy causing a low growl to rise from his throat. He gritted his teeth as he captured your lips in a heated kiss - your warm tongues rubbing in a sensual dance as he picked up the pace even more.

"Cum for me, (Y/N). Soak my cock before I fucking breed you," he snarled against your puffy lips as he slammed his cock into your raw hole with an insatiable hunger. His eyes glowed with desire as he watched you unravel beneath him: your head falling to the side as a beautiful moan echoed through the room. Sukuna's thrusts faltered as your pussy squeezed his cock so hard he nearly came with you.

"R-Ryōmen..." you cooed and babbled as your plush cunt convulsed around his painfully hard shaft. Your husband furrowed his dark brows as his dick twitched between your pulsing walls, your supple cheeks clapping incessantly as he eagerly fucked you through your orgasm.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he breathed as he felt you drench his member and lower stomach with your warm arousal. Your moans grew louder as he pumped his cock into your overstimulated sex - the tight feeling in his dick growing unbearable as his balls tightened against your ass. He watched as you closed your eyes, only to give a powerful thrust into your squelching pussy.

"Look at me, baby - look at me while I fill your perfect pussy," he growled ferally as his cock throbbed and swelled, his breathing ragged against your neck with every passionate thrust. The second your gentle gaze met with his, the cord in Sukuna's taut, lower stomach finally snapped.

"(Y/N)!" he roared as he kept his cock stuffed as deep as he could within your intoxicating heat. It felt like every muscle...every fiber of his being tensed as he shot streams of thick, potent cum into your stretched out hole. "Yes," Sukuna groaned as he shallowly thrusted into your core while he painted your walls a creamy white.

"Mmm, Daddy," you gasped and shivered as he shoved his hips forward for the last time, his tip glazing your cervix with a few loose drops of his seed. The room seemed to spin around him as his body trembled with pure bliss - his skin coated with a thin sheen of sweat as he rested his forehead against yours.

Your warm breaths collided as he slowly loosened his grip on the back of your knees. Your supple legs fell on their side of his abdomen, they’re trembling not going unnoticed by your love. He sighed as your cunt wrapped snugly around his softening length as your noses rubbed against each other.

"Do...you...feel better now?" you asked between heavy pants. Your soft voice filtered into his ears like a gentle, soothing breeze. Sukuna's lips melted into a small grin before he tilted his head and captured your lips in a tender kiss.

"Much better," he chuckled deeply.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @fordo-wifey @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark @acotarobbsessed @8xbygirl @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @lyrasdrawer @rinverse

Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below! (MUST BE 18 OR OLDER)

[familyvideostevie]

alright, hear me out. i looked through the prompts list and can we give roommate!steve a little airtime beCAUSE—

trying to not hit anything or each other, when there is a power outage and it’s way too dark

— is SO steve coded. i wanna see this man during a power outage. please and thank you. i love you.

hi baby. here you go. sorry it took so long. it is the first thing i have written in about 6 weeks so apologies for it's roughness. i adore you. thank you for helping me give steve Harrington his triumphant return. | fluff, 1.3k, roommates!au

Summer storms in the Midwest always take you by surprise. The never-ending expanse of blue sky becomes crowded with swirling grey clouds without warning and everything stills, like the very fabric of time is holding its breath. Until the dam bursts and rain pounds on your windows, the roof, the pavement with wild abandon. Deep, rumbling thunder follows bright flashes of lightning.

You find it relaxing. A steady, reliable chaos into which you settle without complaint.

Well, usually. Your roommate, Robin -- a talkative and whip-smart girl who makes you laugh-- enjoys storms just as much as you do. It's one of the only times she settles, so you often read side-by-side in companionable silence. Sometimes, if you're feeling bold, you'll both dance in the rain.

But Robin is on some six-month trip for brilliant people and she's left you with a subletter.

"My best friend Steve," she'd said. "Come on, I talk about him all the time. You basically know him."

It's true. Robin is full of stories and this Steve is in most of them. A funny, brave, well-intentioned guy who is a bit of an idiot and has a great head of hair.

And now he's living in the other bedroom. And he's hot. And he always does his dishes and remembers to put the seat down after you scolded him once for doing otherwise and you have a crush on him.

It's annoying. He's been here for like, three weeks and keeps asking you where the spoons are and you like him.

But Steve? You are learning that Steve does not like summer storms.

In the few you've had since he arrived you've noticed that he paces, or sits in the living room with the television turned up high, or something noisy. You've never asked him about it because honestly, he could be much worse as far as roommates go.

You can hear his radio through the wall and it's making it hard to focus on your book. You should really go to sleep but this chapter is really good and does he have to be so loud? Maybe you should get up and ask him to keep it down --

A flash of lightning makes it seem like daylight in your room for a brief moment and then everything is dark. Everything.

"Fuck," you say. The power must have gone out. A clap of thunder so loud it feels like your building shakes startles you. You hear a shout from the other side of the wall.

It's not as hard as you'd expect to feel your way to your bedroom door in the dark. You manage to do so without injury apart from bumping your hip on your dresser.

But when you open your door you smack into a solid wall of warmth. Your fingers grasp for purchase and find none -- only bare skin.

"Jesus Christ --" Steve says. He manages to prevent you both from falling over and holds you at arm's length in the dark. "What are you doing?" His voice is tight and he squeezes your shoulders once before releasing you.

"Uh," you say. You're certain that he's not wearing a shirt. You can feel that he's not wearing a shirt. "The power went out."

He huffs. "Wow, thank you. I had no idea."

You wish it wasn't dark so you could see his face. Three weeks hasn't been enough time to learn all of his expressions. "Were you sleeping?"

It feels like a dumb question considering how loud his music was.

"Yeah," he says. "Obviously I was sleeping. It's like, 1 am."

"Just go back to sleep. If you can, under the volume of your radio."

You imagine him wincing. "Sorry," he says. "I don't, uh. Sleep well during --"

Lighting illuminates the hall and you see him for one brilliant second, messy hair, bare chest rising and falling, boxers slung low. Boxers with...are those...bananas? Then: darkness, thunder. You sense his flinch.

"That," he says flatly.

A smile creeps its way onto your face and you allow it because he can't see. The fact that this guy, your temporary roommate, your sort-of crush, is afraid of thunderstorms fills your chest with warmth. It's endearing. It's adorable. It makes you like him so much more.

You ease past him and into the dark of the rest of the apartment.

"Woah, woah," Steve says. "Where are you going?" You hear him follow you and immediately run into something. He curses. You keep your hands out to avoid the same fate.

"You okay?" you call back.

"Why do we have so much furniture?" he grumbles. "Fuck, that hurt."

You don't correct him that we actually means you and Robin.

"Watch where you're going," you say lightly.

"Oh, ha, ha."

Careful steps take you closer to your destination. "Go look for candles in the kitchen," you tell him. "They're in the drawer by the trash."

"Uh, okay," Steve says. He bumps into things with quiet curses on his way as you look for the matches that should be in the closet. "Why? You could just go back to bed. I'm fine."

You chew on your lip. He's right. But you want to hang out with him. The dark makes you honest. "The thunder is loud," you say. "I won't be able to sleep. We might as well hang out."

He laughs, the first genuine one all night. "Oh, you want to hang out? In the dark? You know what this sounds like, right?"

Ah, the famous Harrington charm Robin has told you about. It makes your cheeks feel hot and you can't hide a smile. Steve ruins the moment by running into something again.

"Fuck! Jesus --"

"Steve, be careful."

"I can't see anything!"

You sigh and finally find the matches. Box in hand, you carefully make your way to the kitchen, your eyes adjusting just a little and making it easier.

Steve is looking in the wrong drawer. You should just tell him so, but instead you reach for him, fingers circling his wrist and dragging it to the right one. His skin is warm under yours, the back of his hand softer than you'd thought it would be. You open the drawer together and hear the candles roll around inside.

His face is a dark outline but you focus on the dark and think you see his eyes. You wish you could see him.

"Found them," he says. You're much closer than you realized, so close you feel his breath on your cheek. Steve leans in -- or maybe it's you, you have no idea, and your noses brush. He puts a hand on your hip, fingers sliding under the hem of your sleep shirt and burning you like a brand.

Your eyes slide close and you miss the flash but not the boom that follows, sending you both about a foot in the air and away from each other.

"Shit," you gasp. Steve laughs and you join in, giggling in the dark like teenagers.

Maybe this is a one-night thing, the darkness making you both a little lonelier and a little braver. But you've got months more of him and the idea of spending that time being something more than just roommates? It's appealing, to say the least.

You reach for Steve in the dark and he must have been doing the same because your fingers tangle without much effort.

"Come on," you say. "Let's light the candles and sit on the couch. I'm sure the power will come back on eventually."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. "Okay," he says, a smile in his voice. "Don't let me run into anything."

You grin at him in the dark and hope that come morning he'll be familiar with it in the light, as well. "Don't worry, Steve," you tell him. "I've got you."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Eight

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6k] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutual annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

The storm was unexpected and not forecasted, a monsoon rolling through a July afternoon that went almost unnoticed inside of the arcade. The windowless building didn’t show signs of the rain, nor the dark skies, but by the time the last of the kids left, the rush of a downpour and the rumble of thunder could be heard from the open door. 

And once you’d cashed up and pulled your bag from your locker, you let your workmates out the door before you locked it behind you, hearing their goodbyes yelled over the din of the rain as they ran through puddles to their cars, their parents' minivans. 

Your bike was chained to a railing ten feet away, away from the shelter of the door awning, placed perfectly in the middle of a puddle that was growing into a small lake. You squinted into the gloom, splatters of rain water sticking to your skin, already humid and sticky from the lingering heat. 

Then a car pulled up in front of you, a maroon BMW with shiny alloys and a pretty boy behind the wheel, one you hadn’t seen all week after you’d kissed him stupid in the photo booth. The window rolled down and Steve appeared more clearly, shirt dotted with rain, hair messy from the wind. He was looking at you carefully, maybe warily, maybe nervously. 

But then he nodded to the empty passenger seat. “Get in.”

You didn’t hesitate, not the way you would’ve done weeks ago, chin tilted high and haughty, ready to tell Steve Harrington you’d rather swim home than accept a ride from him. But Chrissy had come back from being off sick and Murray had switched up the schedule. You hadn’t seen Steve in a while, not since the kiss, not since he’d had his hand tucked under your knee and hitched your thigh to his hips. 

Not since his tongue had been against yours. 

Not since he’d whispered your name, a gasping, rough sound that you didn’t think Steve knew he made. 

Not since you discovered that you made Steve Harrington hard.  

Not since you realised you wanted to do it again and again and—

You got in the car. 

The inside of the BMW smelled like Steve, like cedar wood cologne and mint gum, like expensive leather and the half full coffee in the cup holder. You were almost soaked through from the dash across the sidewalk, shirt wrinkled to your body, unnecessary sunscreen and rain water sticking to your skin. 

The radio was low, a murmur, the sound of the rain on the roof louder than anything. Steve nodded at you when you finally looked at him and then he shifted gear, pulling away from the arcade and into the storm. 

Steve drove you through town without much talking, his fingers twisting the controls on the radio, the sounds of Tears For Fears mixing with the rain on the windshield, the hum of the aircon. You didn’t have to tell Steve where to go, you didn’t have to tell him your address. He drove through the streets, kicking up water as he went, heading towards the familiar row of houses not too far from his own. And just before he turned into the lane, you swallowed hard, not wanting to leave just yet. There were things to say, you were sure of it. You just didn’t know what.    

But Steve beat you to it, pulling over in a corner shaded by tall oak trees, at the edge of the sidewalk where the road met a park that was only used for teenage make-outs and underage drinking. It was quiet, empty, and you changed a look at the boy when he killed the engine and the music. 

Steve looked different away from the neon lights and despite the storm, it still felt too quiet without the sounds of the arcade. It was too loud without the alarms, the jingles. Too bright despite the grey.  It was overwhelming. 

“Steve, about last week— what happened, I—”

The boy interrupted you before you could go on, a hand that paused as it made its way to reach over to you, hovering over your thigh, like he decided it wasn’t a good idea. Until he did, Steve’s fingers curling around the skin above your knee and your gaze found his, lips parted in surprise and you watched him think - just for a second - before the words were tumbling from his mouth with anymore hesitation. 

“I’ve not stopped thinking about it,” Steve murmured, sounding a little dazed, quiet under the blanket of rain, the sky through the windshield a hazy lilac-grey and god, the world felt fuzzy, it felt soft. “Like, at all. Fuck, I don’t know, I just— I just.” Steve licked his lips, letting his gaze drop to yours. “Wanna do it again.”

The air seemed to disappear from the car. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. 

“If you’ll let me,” Steve finished, nervous and quiet and unlike you’d seen him before, his eyes unsure as he made his way back to his own seat, his hand retreating from your leg. 

You didn’t let him get far, your hand wrapping around his wrist to keep him close, leaning forward in your chair to meet him over the console, noses almost brushing. You shared the same shaky breath and outside, the rain fell harder. 

“We don’t like each other,” you tried to remind him, but the words came out unsure, like you couldn’t remember yourself. “We’re not— we’re not friends. We don’t—”

Steve shrugged, a clumsy thing that you barely saw because he was so close. His hand that you kept on your thigh tightened, a needy grasp that you encouraged by smoothing your palm up his forearm, upupup until you were holding onto his shoulder and fisting his rain speckled shirt in your fingers. 

“You’re right, we don’t,” Steve agreed and his voice was lower than before, more sure and back to sounding a little cocky now that you were holding him with the same kind of want that he held you with. “I totally hate you.”

You wondered if Steve believed his own words in that moment, because with the way he was staring at your mouth, you sure as fuck didn’t. 

You didn’t seem to care though. 

“Right,” you nodded anyway. “You’re so annoying.” Your nose bumped against his, lips hovering. Waiting. Wanting. Eyes barely open. 

The rain got louder, fuzzier, a white noise roar that seemed to match your heartbeat. 

“Yeah, you’re a real pain in my ass, princess. Can I kiss you?”

Steve was on you before you finished nodding, a pleased hum coming from the back of your throat as he closed the gap, his hand flying up to grasp the back of your neck, like he wanted to be in control, like he wanted to savour it. 

It felt less like an argument this time, this kiss. Steve’s mouth swept over yours lazily, languidly, a melting popsicle on a summer day, cherry flavoured and coloured red like sin. It was chaste for a while, innocent enough for two people parked curbside just before a residential street. But the rain had kept everyone indoors, it had washed away the sidewalk chalk, the hopscotch lines and the love hearts.   

Instead, it left inky shadows to hide in, navy and lavender light, heavy rain. Enough noise to disguise your moans with, a substitute for the arcade sounds but this felt better, this felt closer. Warmer. Hotter. 

Then Steve’s tongue licked over your bottom lip as his thumb grazed the corner of it, an impatient tug that was supposed to be a question. You answered it by parting your lips for him, tongue meeting his, his groan mixing with your sigh. And too soon, he was pulling away, rosy cheeks and glassy eyed, watching you with the most curious expression - like he couldn’t work you out. 

And then: “C’mere.”

Steve moved his chair back, cranking the lever until the seat rolled away from the steering wheel. There was enough room there for you to crawl into his lap, to straddle him and get closer than before. So you did exactly that, a little clumsy and a little eager as you scrambled over the console, Steve’s hand catching your elbow to help you, even with a smirk on his face. 

“Thought you didn’t like me?” He reminded you through your willingness to throw your leg over his thighs, grinning when you scowled. Steve’s hands found your hips, warm and wide, gripping tight as you lowered yourself over him. “Or does that not matter now that you’re—”

“Steve? Shut up,” you muttered huffily, happy to have worn a skirt as you settled yourself against him, chest to chest, your hands diving into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

You rocked your hips, getting comfy, squirming a little in Steve’s lap and you made a little noise as you did so, the denim and the half hard length of the boy catching against your cotton underwear nicely. 

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, voice suddenly breathy, the teasing knocked out of him now that you were on top. “Right, yeah, totally shutting up.”

It was easier to press your lips back to his, the neediness mounting, a new kind of want that clawed at your insides and suddenly you didn’t hate the boy at all. In fact, you really liked the way his hands dropped for your hips to hold at your spread thighs, knuckles teasing the edge of your skirt, thumbs rubbing circles the inside of your legs. 

You really liked the way he sighed all deep when your tongue licked over his, how his nose pressed harder against your cheek, like he couldn’t get close enough. You really liked the way he kissed you with a confidence that came from knowing how handsome he was, from knowing how a girl liked to be touched. 

But you loved it when his mouth hung open when you shoved him back into the seat, a hand to his chest, your own heaving. “Slower,” you told him, whispering, following him back into the chair, where you kept him pressed against the leather. Your mouth was a ghost against his, your bottom lip catching the arc of his cupid's bow, his kiss pink and pouty for you. “Softer.”

Steve did as he was told, hands roaming the expanse of skin under your shirt, fingers trailing up and down your spine as he kissed you like he had all day, all night. A teasing push and pull of his mouth against your own, teeth catching your lip, tongue sliding over your own until you were squirming. 

“Yeah?” He asked, lips glossy from you, eyes dreamy. 

You nodded, clutching at him, fingers twisting in his hair. “Yeah.”

You didn’t realise you were rocking yourself over Steve until he swore, hands holding you and pushing you down against his hard cock, tight and trapped under his jeans. It was a heady experience, the drag of denim against your underwear, cotton soft and almost soaked through the more Steve kissed you. You felt drunk, the roar of the rain a staticy sound in your ears but Steve’s moans were louder, more important. 

He sounded so pretty. He looked even prettier. 

So you rested your forehead against his, lips open in a gasp, hips rocking a little faster, a dirty grind that made you feel filthy. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could see. 

“M’gonna come like this,” you whispered, only a little embarrassed at your admission. You felt flushed, too warm, the summer air heavy in the car with the aircon off. “Shit, Steve.”

“Christ,” the boy groaned, voice sounding wrecked. “You can’t say shit like that, fucking hell.”

You only whined in response, catching him again for a kiss that turned messy, desperate as you both chased something you didn’t know you’d wanted. Your hands were on Steve’s jaw, titling his head back to kiss him a little deeper as he encouraged you to grind down on him. 

He tore away from you when you moaned louder than ever, squirming against his cock through his jeans, letting out a hiccuping sound when the zipper caught against your clit. His lips were on your cheek, the line of your jaw, down your neck. 

“Oh my god.”

“Shit, princess, are you gonna come?” He growled when you nodded, your cheek pressed to his. “God, that’s so fucking hot, you’re just— fuck.”

Steve hoisted you away from him, from where you’d pressed yourself against his chest. He coaxed you up, holding onto you with one hand on your thigh, just under your skirt, the other on your waist. He was still guiding you, hips canting up now to help you both gain more friction. You were desperate for another kiss, to feel the dirty flick of Steve’s tongue over yours but Steve tutted as you tried to move back, his hands keeping you where he wanted you. 

“Nuhuh,” he murmured, “wanna watch.”

“Oh, shit,” you whined, clutching at the front of his shirt, pulling up the cotton until more skin was revealed, tanned and freckled, a dusting of hair leading down into his jeans. You curled your fingers there instead, holding onto his belt. “Steve, m’close.”

The boy nodded, frantic, suddenly intent on seeing you fall apart, just for him. “I know, I know, keep goin’ for me.” His thumbs dug into your hip bones, pushing and pulling you over his cock, his own breath hitching at the sight of you throwing your head back, eyes fluttering shut, your hold on him tightening. “Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. You look so good.”

It was an easy climb, when he spoke like that. It was a sudden fall when he whispered to you next:

“Can you come like this? Rubbing yourself on my cock? Christ, you’re gonna, aren’t you, princess?”

You came with your lips pressed back to Steve’s, clawing at his shoulders as you whined into his open mouth, his own groan falling onto your tongue, his hands pressing hard into your sides as he jerked underneath you, hips rolling. Steve flushed as he came, cheeks reddening, eyes turning glassy as he watched you and you watched him. 

Neither of you moved, not yet, not as quickly as you thought you would’ve. Instead, you leaned into him, body slack and warm, skin slick with rain and exertion, your chest heaving against Steve’s. Maybe you imagined the kiss Steve pressed to your shoulder before you sat up, the fleeting warmth of his lips on your skin, the soft hum that came from him as he did. 

There wasn’t any embarrassment as you stared at each other, your legs still splayed over his, the crotch of his jeans starting to darken in one spot, a mix of yours and his accomplishments. If you felt proud at the sight, you tried not to show it. So you both caught your breaths and Steve rubbed a thumb over your knee, wincing when you left him to crawl back to the passenger seat.  

You didn’t kiss him goodbye before you left, and Steve didn’t offer any other sweetness when your fingers curled around the door handle, but you did leave him with one parting gift. 

“I don’t really hate you,” you told him, suddenly shy despite the marks he’d left on your neck, the mess you’d left his hair. “Not really.”

Steve grinned, a proper, beaming thing before he caught himself and tried to smooth out his expression. He cleared his throat, nodding as he started the engine and gave you one last look. “Yeah. Not really.” 

You hadn’t even noticed the rain had stopped.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 1

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 1: new haven, new me

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

"Who...who are you?" the woman asked into the darkness, voice quivering as if she were cold. I encircled her, my sharp claws tapping the stone pavement and tail dragging behind. I was distorting the noises to make it seem like I was everywhere.

"I go by many names," I said sweetly, "Python. Snake Demon. Dragon Demon. All which fit me perfectly." I let the shadows melt away from me, revealing my Demon form to the scared Human.

I wore my usual outside attire: dark grey dress pants, black and silver clasp belt, black turtle neck, and a dark maroon blazer. It was topped off with the necklace of Alastor's crest. It became the crest of the Hazbin Haven guard command.

"What do you want?" she half demanded. Her face was coated in cuts and bruises and her leg was bent at an awkward angle from attempting to jump roofs.

I knelt down, my face inches from hers, and placed a daring claw under her chin. "Where is Blackwater's factory?"

Her scared demeanor faded, replaced by a look of anger and determination. "You'll need to kill me, then. Blackwater's legacy will live on in all of us."

"What a shame," I said as I stood back up, "I was gracing you with the opportunity to live. No matter, I'll take your soul and examine your memories." I gripped her soul half a second after she yelled. Her cries were no longer heard in the physical world, reaching my ears and mine only. The other souls I was holding onto were frantic for a new soul's energy. She could see their pitch black, wide, screaming faces.

Then I let go. Her soul fell back into her body and she stared up at the night sky, face as pale as a ghost. Her chest heaved with each breath while her hands gripped at the stone to ground herself.

"Last opportunity," I said, standing above her with my hands in my pants pockets. "Where is the factory?"

"I don't know." Her voice shook. "I'm not...I'm not allowed...to know."

"Then who does?"

"The trucks. They drop it off."

"When is the next shipment coming?" I then asked.

"Next month."

"Who's in charge now?"

"I don't know." I grabbed her soul and she freaked. "It is! It is! Since Blackwater died everything is need-to-know!"

I was silent. I continued to stare into her wide eyes, waiting. Leaving someone in silence usually elicited them to talk more. 

"I get the shipments and I'm just told to sell them. I swear!" She was telling the truth and my disappointment was overwhelming. I swallowed despite the tightness in my throat. I turned the emotion into anger as I leaned over.

"Tell me something useful if you wish to keep your soul in your body." I stared down, eyes brightening and teeth glinting in fake light. Her eyes widened in response.

"I-I-I don't know. I uh...there's...um..." I gave her a few minutes to think. The fear was clouding her judgement and ability to think so I let her ease up just enough to think. "Shipments don't all arrive at the same time to every location. There's probably some shipments still on their way."

"Where are the other sellers?"

She bit her lip. "I also don't know that, either."

I let out an annoyed sigh and straightened up. I knew who I needed to talk with but I hated interacting with him.

I looked down at the women shaking on the cold ground. She had given me the most she could provide. It didn't seem right to take her soul, but now she was a liability.

I stepped over so my feet were on either side and bent at the hip so I was close to her face. "This conversation didn't happen. If someone even suspects me I will return to harvest your soul. Slowly."

Mouth agape and shivering, she nodded. Alcine covered my whole body and I faded into the dark alley, hiding away in the forest on the outskirts of the busy town. Once I manifested, I teleported back home.

I took the long way around the house to give myself time to shed this version of me. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my arms and tail as if ridding the personality from my very body. I stepped up on the new porch, eyes glancing at the almost finished portion in front of the living room window, and quietly entered the house.

Reagan had made them all dinner and likely left something for me in the fridge. Not feeling very hungry, I used my magic to keep my steps quiet as I went to my room. I changed out of the dark clothes and put on shin-length loose pants and a white short sleeve. I stretched out my sense to see if any of them were still awake. Fortunately, they were not.

I climbed into bed and pulled the heavy covers up to my chin. I kept my dreams away as I slipped into sleep.

The following morning, I was woken to the sound of Nym and Thatcher yelling at each other. Reagan and Lucas must have had an early morning because it was Husker's voice I heard trying to scold them for being loud.

I dressed in my usual 'home' attire, which were simple black dress pants and a light colored top. Today was a thin sweater since we were nearing my favorite season: Fall

My claws tapped on the wood as I walked down the staircase. The rambunctious pair were arguing over the family wristlet. Each member of this family wore a leather wristlet or bracelet that had our crest: a combination of Alastor's crest and my own (the symbol left in the ground when I teleport). Reagan wore a bracelet like I did but the younger pair wanted leather wristlets like Husker. They looked up to the furry uncle. Sometimes too much if someone asked me.

The siblings were sitting at the kitchen counter with Husker on the other side, claws digging into the surface with frustration. Breakfast lay untouched in front of them.

Nym had really short, hazel brown hair and a few freckels on her nose. Her brother, Thatcher, had even shorter hair, typical of boys his age, but his face was coated in the same freckles. His face was usually set in a glare from dealing with his sister while Nym had a wide grin.

"They're the exact same," Husker growled, snatching both items away, mixing them behind his back, then tossing them back into the angry little hands.

"Mine's smaller!" Nym slammed her hands on the counter, half standing on her chair, "he's got buffy wrists."

"Hah! You admit I'm stronger than you!" Thatcher sneered in her face. She shoved his face away, nearly causing him to fall back off his chair.

"Big wrists don't mean you're stronger. Just a bunch of fat."

"Be nice," I spoke softly as I stepped into the kitchen. They went very quiet and settled into their seats.

"I just want my band," Nym looked pointedly to Thatcher.

"And you should have it. However," I took both wristlets from them and held them up to my eye level, "since we cannot decipher the difference, whichever I give will be yours and you need to do something to it that distinguishes it from the other. Understood?"

The two of them nodded silently. It had taken the first full year of parenting them to understand they listened best when spoken to like an adult. Sometimes I could get away with a more adolescent sentence if I put in a few elegant, advanced words for them.

I covered the bracelets in shadows and fizzled them into each of their palms. Nym immediately began to burn her initials into the leather as carefully as she could. The two of them were Slight Humans with a gift of Fire. Their magic was one of the reasons they had been given to me.

"Good morning," Husker sighed, pouring alcohol into his cup.

"Guess you didn't sleep well." We touched foreheads in our usual greeting before I made a plate for myself. Every other day he would come up to eat breakfast with us. It was the only time we had to spend with each other.

"Angel had a bad nightmare last night," was all he gave me.

Nym and Thatcher rattled off about school yesterday since I was gone for the evening. I pretended to listen but my mind was somewhere else. My peripherals could see the calendar hanging off the cabinet behind them. A weight settled in my chest.

Husker was the one to notice the time. He had to be on guard duty and the littles had to be at school. I ushered the two of them out, gently attempting to step on the back of their feet to elicit laughter and urgency. They ran out the door and practically flew down the short hill. I watched them enter the haven and follow the street to the schoolhouse.

"You should come to the dance tomorrow evening," Husker said as he closed the door behind him. Once a month, Charlie hosted a formal dance for the town. It helped people meet each other and gave us a nice event to attend. The first half was for the adults before the later hours were given to the teenagers and their crazy music.

"I don't think so," I said, "I'm hunting for Blackwater still."

"It could do you some good to let loose and dance. I know you love it."

"I do but..." I looked down at my back foot claws. "I still have to do my ritual too."

"It's been seven years now. Maybe you don't need to anymore."

"It's past seven years," I glanced sideways at him, "almost eight by tomorrow. I should be doing my ritual now more than ever."

"You really don't think he's coming back?" Husker asked gently. He had been incredibly understanding and empathetic towards my situation. He was still under Alastor's service and was never treated nearly as kindly as me, but he still offered comfort for my bruised heart.

"You said last time was seven years. It's almost eight. He may not return for another sixty years for all I know. Demons live for centuries."

"I still think you should dance to at least one song. Either before or after your ritual. Think about it." He placed a kind hand on my shoulder before flapping off the porch. I stared after him, watching his figure shrink into a black dot in the sky. I reached inside the front door and opened the drawer of the small decoration table. I withdrew my phone and sent a text message to Vox asking to meet with him.

I sat on the porch chair and closed my eyes. I reached out with my magic and felt the haven. I had read all of Alastor's books in the library and his office since the time of his disappearance. From my readings and sessions with Lucifer, my magic had grown in ways I couldn't imagine.

The souls danced around each other or cluttered together in homes, stores, schoolrooms, and more. I could sense a couple fishermen heading out to sea for the day. The children burned the brightest and a several people found their soulmate here, the thread connecting the pair clearly visible to my eyes. Althea was the only other person in the haven that could see soulmate connections.

My thread came only a few inches off my chest before it faded into nothing.

I stayed in this limbo. I wasn't truly present in my body but not entirely gone into the magic field. It was a comfortable place, a quiet place, that I could lose myself for hours in. There were few things that gave me rest and this was one of them.

The sun had reached its highest point when I finally withdrew back to my physical body. I opened my eyes and saw movement in the corner of my vision. I turned to see Alastor standing with his cane in hand and the other arm tucked neatly behind his back. It wasn't actually him, though. The hurt came back as hard as it had when he first disappeared. 

I drew a deep breath in and let it out, annoyed at how shaky it was when I did. I stood from the porch chair and walked up--walked through--him to the unfinished part of the porch. His figure fizzled into nothing, leaving me feeling cold and alone. I picked up a floorboard and started nailing it into place. 

I had gotten three floorboards down before the tears made it impossible to see the nails. I dropped the hammer and sat back on my heels, shoulders haunched and claws puncturing the new wood. I peeled one off and covered my wet face as I attempted to get control over my erratic breathing.

Where are you?

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

Author's Note:

Act Three babyyyyyy

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

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette

[dont-f-with-moogles]

Hello Terra Bee, can I request #17 with Levi please. I believe he’s a natural dom, but it could go either way you want hehe ;)<3

Smut Scribbles 17: “Hands behind your back.”

If You Can’t Bear It (NSFW) Characters: Levi x Reader Word Count: 582 words

Beyond the apartment window, the wind’s earlier fury had calmed. A spray of rain pattered against the glass in one final surge of passion, before fading into a subdued, distant drumming. Your bedroom was lit only with the dim glow of a bedside lamp and slats of grey streetlight between the shutters. Levi was clutching your wrists in both hands, thumbs pressed against the faint, olive threads of your veins. Your back lay against the mattress; the pillows and throw had been scattered to one side. His bare chest lay warm against you; body drawn out between your legs. Distracted by the press of your lips; the sweep of your tongue against the roof of his mouth, his hold loosened, permitting your arms to wrap around his neck. But, as your head shifted against his, he broke your grip, drawing himself away from you. Instead his lips found your jaw; moved lower to taste the side of your neck. Agile fingers toyed beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing the soft skin of your waist.

Levi’s hand dipped under your shirt, drawing the material over your ribcage. Skin to skin, his touch burned wherever it lingered. Hand sliding higher, his fingers skimmed your side, until his thumb brushed your hardened nipple.You sank into Levi’s kiss as he stroked your breast; teasing, pinching your nipple lightly between thumb and forefinger. You heaved a breathless moan against his lips. Each tiny pull sent shivers down your body; pulses of electricity surging in blissful waves.

The bed creaked as Levi shifted his weight to lie beside you. Open-mouthed kisses were pressed slowly down your neck, leaving a trail of blemishes in his wake. His lips traced the hollow of your throat; roamed freely over your breast… until he took your nipple in his mouth. Beneath him your head writhed against the mattress, tangled hair spread out. Every tantalising flick of his tongue sent a renewed thrill down your spine. Your legs trembled, weak to the throbbing, all-engrossing heat which intensified with each movement. Momentarily, he released you with a tiny pop of flesh, before closing in again. The tingling in your limbs grew sharper until it was almost unbearable. With a stifled moan, you clenched your thighs together. Oh how you longed for him to touch you; to move his lithe fingers in rhythm with his tongue as it brushed sensuous circles upon your chest.

With another jolt of excitement, you felt his hand rest on the top of your thigh. Gripping you, Levi splayed your legs open. Involuntarily your hips jerked upwards, but his fingers remained closed upon you in a tight hold. His lips delicately traced your breast; teasing, probing, kissing. And you were caught, helpless, rocking on an uncertain wave beyond the reach of sweet ecstasy. In the end, you couldn’t help yourself. Your hand drifted down. With a lightning reflex, Levi seized your wrist.

“I don’t think so.” His tone was low, dangerous. Dark as billowing smoke. 

“But why-” You hated the obvious tremble in your own voice; next to him you sounded weak, pleading  in comparison. Levi’s lips were beside your ear.

“Do that again and I’ll tie your hands behind your back,” he threatened.

“But… I want you-”

Husky laughter was his only reply. Levi’s teeth grazed the shell of your ear; hot breath caressed your neck. 

“And I want to take my time with you. I suggest you do as you’re told if you can’t bear it…” ... Thanks Dee! 💙