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faithshouseofchaos · 3 months

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Dress up — dad!Charles Leclerc x reader

Tagged— @astraeaworld @ashy-kit @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @faithsotherhouseofchaos @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @jeffs77 @hrts4scarr @jaeeyaaasworld @ironcowboycopnickel @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @norrisleclercf1 @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere @vivwritesfics

The two most important people in Charles' life were his wife and his daughter. Charles loved them more than life itself. Charles' favorite thing to do on the weekends was play with his daughter Anastasia Juliet Leclerc. Charles would never admit to it but he lived for the moments when Anastasia dragged him into her playroom to play dress up and dollies.

“What do you want to do today?” Charles asked Anastasia while cleaning up her face from breakfast.

“I wanna play dress up!” Anastasia squealed.

“Okay princess, let’s get you all decked out”, Charles responds as he lifts her into his arms. He carries her to her playroom and sets her down on a stool in front of her large wardrobe.

“Ooh look, Daddy, I want this one!” She exclaims, pulling an Aurora-themed dress from her play play chest filled with dresses and other costumes

“Wow, I can see why!” Charles responds as he checks out the dress. It’s gorgeous, made of sparkly gold fabric, and adorned with beautiful gems. Charles can imagine the fairy tale it will create. “How about we go with this dress today and let’s see what else we can come up with to go with it”, he suggests as he pulls out a basket of accessories for her to choose from.

Anastasia squeals with excitement as she digs through the basket of sparkling necklaces, bracelets, and tiaras. She decides on a small crown made of rubies and a tiara that matches her dress. Charles can’t help but smile as he watches his daughter’s imagination run wild.

“Your turn papa!” Anastasia exclaimed excitedly as she grabbed a fake pearl necklace, two clip-on earrings, and a tiara and put them on her papa.

“Daddy looks so elegant!”, Charles laughs as he puts on the delicate necklace, earrings, and matching tiara that Anastasia gives him. He looks very silly dressed as a princess but he can tell she loves it.

“Do you like me like this, my fair princess?” Charles asks with a playful look on his face.

“Yes, daddy! You look just like my favorite princess from my story book”, Anastasia responds as she kisses him on the cheek. Her face is full of joy and love as she looks at her adoring father.

“Can I do your makeup next?” Anastasia asks in a very childlike, adorable tone.

Charles has no idea why his daughter wants to do his makeup, but he can’t deny the chance to spend more time with her, not to mention she’d probably give him some kind of funny look.

“Hmm, okay but you have to be gentle, okay princess?” Charles says as he sits down on a stool in front of her.

“Okay Daddy, I’ll be very careful”, Anastasia says.

Anastasia begins by applying a light pink blush on his cheeks and a touch of sparkle shadow on his eyes.

Charles looks down now and then to see what his daughter is doing and he is pleasantly surprised by how careful and nice she is being with him.

Charles is not afraid of being seen in such a ridiculous way, especially since Anastasia is the one doing the makeup. His main focus in that moment is how much his daughter loves dressing up with him and she’s not even asking for anything in exchange, all she wants is to play with her daddy.

“Okay, now I just need to add a little lipstick and you’ll be ready for the ball”, Anastasia says excitedly. She applies a light pink lipstick to her father’s lips.

Charles is enjoying this moment with his young princess. He feels relaxed and content in a way he hasn’t in a while. She’s not asking him for anything, not even an expensive toy or a new dress, all she wants is to play dress up with her father.

“All done! You look amazing Daddy”, Anastasia exclaims excitedly. Charles isn’t sure what’s more laughable, his princess dress and makeup or the huge smile on his daughter’s face. She seems genuinely proud of the look she’s put together for her daddy as if he was going to go to a royal ball at the palace.

Charles can’t help but giggle as he watches his daughter’s face light up. She’s so excited to see him in his princess dress and makeup, and he’s happy to oblige. He feels silly but he enjoys making his daughter happy. It seems like every time he gives in, she wants to play dress up for longer. What started as a couple of minutes has turned into an hour already.

“Come on, Daddy, we have to dance!” Anastasia says as she grabs her father’s hand and pulls him up from his stool.

Anastasia doesn’t want to waste any time getting started with their grand ball of a dance and she wants her prince charming by her side. Charles can’t help but laugh as his daughter’s imagination runs wild.

She is having so much fun with this make-believe game that she doesn’t even realize how much time is passing. Charles just wants her to be happy.

“Okay my fair princess, let us dance!” Charles responds, following his daughter’s cue and pretending to be her prince charming. He takes her hand and begins to sway her from side to side as if they were dancing. He even goes so far as to spin her around a few times as they make their rounds around the room.

Anastasia is grinning from ear to ear as she feels like a real princess, dancing with her handsome prince. Charles is smiling as well, but his smile is more about how much his daughter is enjoying this game.

When you got home you could hear the father-daughter pair in the playroom giggling and laughing. Walking to Anastasia’s playroom you watched the two dance around before making yourself known.

“Well don’t you two look adorable” you said to Charles and your daughter

Charles smiles at his wife as she walks through the door and sees him playing dress up with his daughter. It’s been a long day at work but watching the two of them dancing in the playroom makes him forget all about it.

“Yes we do, don’t we mommy? And all thanks to Anastasia! She made me look so beautiful”, Charles replies with a sarcastic yet endearing tone.

“Thank you, honey, this was all Anastasia’s idea”, Charles says as he turns towards you. You love that your husband still allows your daughter to play with him and even dress him up in silly outfits and makeup. He knows he looks silly and would never go out like that, but for Anastasia, he would pretend to be anyone she wants him to be.

“Do I look pretty?” Anastasia asks, twirling in front of you. The pink dress and makeup bring out her blue/green eyes and give her an innocent and soft aura. She looks almost like a miniature version of a Disney princess.

“You look gorgeous!” You exclaim as you look at your daughter dressed as a princess. You feel like your heart is going to burst with joy when you see how happy she looks dressed up and playing dress up with her father.

“Can I do your makeup too, mommy?”, Anastasia asks as she watches you look at her. She’s already made up her mind, she wants to put makeup on you too.

“Alright princess, you can do my makeup but you have to be careful and not make me look too silly, okay?” You respond as you give her a small smile. You know that Anastasia loves to play dress up and it’s sweet how she wants to include you as well.

“Don’t worry Mommy, I’m going to make you look more beautiful than you already are”, Anastasia replies with a big grin on her face. You can’t help but chuckle at her confidence, she looks so sure that she’s going to make you look like the prettiest woman in the whole world.

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munsonthings86 · 3 months

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we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

#steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x poc!reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things

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t1ts-4-scattorcio · 9 months

Note

Protective nat w a soft gf pls 🙏

Protective Nat x Soft GF Reader

You were known for being kind which is why it was odd to see you and Nat together, especially as girlfriends. Sweet quiet girl always looking for the best in people and an angsty grunge goth latched to her hip.

The epitome of sunshine and dark cloud + has an attitude with everyone else but you. She can have the most sour expression on her face then is all goo goo eyes when she see’s you.

“Hey nat whats up?” Jackie asks, “Nothing.” 😒 ‘you enter’ immediately skips to you “Hey baby” 😍

She loves making you happy, she’s up for anything you want to do. She lets you do her makeup the way you want it when she comes over for fun. Sometimes it happens before school and she ends up walking in with pastel pink eye lids and loads of glitter on her face. Jackie and Laura Lee think the look suits her since they’re only used to dark colors.“Pink suits you so well nat!” “thanks” 😌

Color coordinating outfits. You would wear a floral dress and she would have a floral scrunchie to match

Nat doesn’t shy away from soft readers romantic advances you’re so sweet she can’t help but let you love her. Lottie and Van poke fun at nat “you’ve really gone soft Scatorccio.” “yeah yeah whatever” 🙄

Nat isn’t scared to break a few noses if anyone takes advantage of you though and is basically your shadow, everyone knows that where you go natalie follows so any asshole know not to fuck with you.

Get’s ansty when you’re drunk, once a guy harassed you during a party after you denied his advances. Insisted he was good in bed and better than Nat in any way possible. “You’re so quiet, Nat’s got you so wound up hm, I bet I can make you come out of your shell.” TF Did she just hear?? 🤨 She was so angry after overharing him she punched him so hard he ended up getting a concussion.

After that she makes sure she has an arm wrapped around you, sometimes making you hold onto her belt loop when she can’t hold your hand.

She isn’t afraid to confront anyone that speaks badly about you “y/n is so sensitive, I bet she’s fake as hell too.” Her head spins so fast “the hell did you just say??” Pinning the idiot that said that against a locker.

You’re so sympathetic to nat’s home life, you had a feeling nat was having a hard time and your heart broke when you realized why. Nat loves how you listen to what she has to say, you hold her while she sobs after having a screaming match with her dad or how negligent her mom is towards her.

She’s also attentive to your anxieties, suggests you go somewhere quiet to relax when you’re overwhelmed, outside on the benches in the soccer field or a secret corner in the library designated for the both of you.

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets headcanons #yellowjackets imagine #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets blurbs #nat scatorccio headcanons #natalie scatorccio headcanons #natalie scatorccio imagine

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pelova4president · 6 months

Text

C’s MASTERLIST

DE ORANJE LEEUWINNEN

☆ Esmee Brugts x Reader

that stupid smile of hers I

that stupid smile of her II

☆ Victoria Pelova x Reader

relationship launch, socials I

relationship launch, socials II

fuck you, stargirl

shadows are to protect II

shadows are to protect III

shadows are to protect IV

☆ Daphne van Domselaar x Reader

world cup, socials

☆ Jill Roord x Reader

lovey dovey

LA ROJA

☆ Aitana Bonmati x Reader

home is where the heart is, socials

☆ Jana Fernandez x Reader

the best view, socials

☆ Salma Paralluelo x Reader

secreta

focus I

focus II

THE LIONNESSES

☆ Grace Clinton x Reader

the bestest of friends

wingteam

☆ Lucy Bronze x Reader

almost impossible

☆ Georgia Stanway x Reader

bet on it

☆ Leah Williamson x Reader

the williamsons, socials

magic euros I

magic euros II

the girlfriend scarer

☆ Alessia Russo x Reader

won us the world cup

shadows are to protect I

shadows are to protect II

shadows are to protect III

☆ Maya Le Tissier x Reader

the extrovert to my introvert

☆ Aggie Beever-Jones x Reader

green looks good on you

☆ Lauren Hemp x Reader

to your rescue

BLÅGULT

☆ Fridolina Rölfo x Reader

blind date

DIE NATIONALELF

☆ Laura Freigang x Sydney Lohmann x Reader

my muses

THE MATILDAS

☆ Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

pretty fangirl, socials

THE CANUCKS

☆Jessie Fleming x Reader

why so shy?

THE GIRLS IN GREEN

☆ Katie McCabe x Reader

mrs. mccard, socials

Other

☆ Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Reader

little soulmates

☆ Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Fridolina Rölfo x Reader

all eyes on you I

all eyes on you II

disclaimer, english isn’t my first language, i’m dutch so i’m sorry for any grammar mistakes.

I’ll write for almost any female footballer so if you have any requests or ideas, send them in :)

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starrierknight · 6 months

Text

𝟎𝟐𝟐. 𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us, but we can't strike them all by ourselves.” ― Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate

KINKTOBER 23' | 𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓* | AO3

*this fic is in media res

wc— 6.3k

pairing— yandere!dom!gn!reader x defected!sub!getou

cws/tags— dead dove: do not eat, yandere/darling dynamic, erotomania, dubcon, mind break, restraints (ropes — shibari), death threats, bodily harm threats, gaslighting/manipulation, heavy sadism/masochism, knife play, manhandling, pain play (scratching + hair pulling), humiliation, dacryphilia + drool, spit as lube, handjob, edging, suguru fantasises about fucking you, frottage, cumming untouched, praise, pet names: “(my) darling” + “good boy”, dialogue-heavy

You stalked over to Suguru, taking the knife out of the back of your shoe, the embodiment of jealous fervour. Your fingers tightened around the knot of ropes at the centre of his shoulder blades, tugging him upright. He heaved and gasped, his face contorting in a mix of fear and confusion when he spotted the gleaming blade in your hand.

"What?! W-What are you doing?!" Panic laced his voice, evident in the wide-eyed terror that flickered across his expression.

Who would protect his loved ones? His body tensed, arms and legs twitching, desperate to escape the impending threat. What would happen to them if he couldn't endure whatever ordeal awaited him? Imminent danger materialised with the knife in your hand. Some type of torture? Did that mean you were going to kill him? The room closed in. He had people to save, damn it!

"Where the fuck is it, Suguru?"

“I don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Your initial chuckle morphed into a peal of chilling laughter, your head swaying on your shoulders. Your lip trembled as you screeched, "Where the hell is it, my one and only?!"

Your chest heaved and your blood coursed hotly through your veins like lit gasoline, fueling your temper. The air, hot and suffocating, rushed in and out of your lungs, each exhale a smouldering release.

Where could it be? The words, the tattoo, the declaration? Was the man before you truly your one and only? Was he the illustrious figure you had adored from the shadows all these years? The questions echoed in the caverns of your mind, each reverberation stoking the flames of your incendiary anger.

Inhale. The air, thick and acrid, seared your throat as it surged through you. Your chest expanded with the intensity of a furnace.

No, there had to be a reasonable explanation. Suguru would never willingly choose this. He loved you; he had always loved you. Conviction burned in your thoughts, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the belief. The man bound before you was your cherished one. He had to be.

Exhale. A low growl escaped your lips, flames licking at the edges of your composure. Beads formed on your brow and palms, glistening like molten droplets.

It was probably that damned cult of his, wasn’t it? They were jealous, coveting him for themselves. They had stolen him from you, tearing him away from the love and devotion he owed you.

Yet, like fire, jealousy can both illuminate and destroy.

Your fingers trembled uncontrollably as they clutched the knife, the cold steel vibrating. The hilt felt slick in your grasp. The cool reality of the blade danced with the reflected light of the candles in the room, an undulating promise of searing pain.

Kneeling directly in front of Suguru, your armed hand reached around him, the knife a menacing punctuation madness. Your gaze bore into his eyes with a ferocious intensity, a frenzied stare.

His face contorted. Wide eyes were saucers of panic, pupils dilated to the brink as if attempting to swallow the horror of it all. Sweat adorned his furrowed forehead, shining like dew. His complexion drained of colour, leaving behind a pallor that starkly contrasted with the usual warmth of his skin. The lines of his face, once familiar and composed, now distorted into a twisted mask.

His mouth hung agape, a silent scream frozen on his lips. Tremors shook his body, his jaw clenched, muscles poised to flee—though you both knew he couldn’t. Every nerve was on edge, a single touch could shatter the fragile equilibrium that barely held him together.

As you held the knife, its cold blade a chilling presence, you gently dragged the back of it along his left forearm, tracing a path of distress up to his elbow. The metallic edge left a faint trail against his skin.

"I can't let anyone else have you, Suguru," you murmured.

It sent a chill down Suguru's spine, the sensation racing through his veins, setting his pulse ablaze. The soft touch, though hauntingly gentle, was enough to provoke his Adam’s apple to bob nervously. A cold sweat broke out down his back, beads of anxiety clinging to his skin, as your blade traced a perilous path, a few inches away from the delicate network of his veins.

"Don't..." he managed to whisper, his voice trembling, a plea that hung in the air like a fragile thread. Tears brimmed at the edges, and an involuntary stillness overcame his legs.

His mind raced, an anxious torrent of thoughts attempting to strategise, to find a way to escape the impending threat. The ropes, however, proved an insurmountable obstacle, binding him in cruel proximity.

“I love you.”

"Please..." he begged softly, his voice a desperate entreaty. His eyes remained fixed on the glinting blade.

The flat of the blade dragged along Suguru's bicep, a chilling sensation that sent shivers through his entire being. As you continued, the cool metal skimmed his collarbones, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake.

"Ah, ah, hah..." he bit down on his lip at the acute discomfort of the blade.

Goosebumps erupted across his flesh. With each touch, his body reacted as if the very air around him had turned icy. His trembling and shivering became more pronounced under the merciless blade. Suguru's instincts begged him to scream, to resist, but his body, held captive by the ropes and paralysed by fear, fought against the primal urge. His eyes met yours with an expression of utter helplessness. He felt a desperate yearning for release, a desire to break free from the nightmarish reality that enveloped him.

"You're mine, okay? Maybe I'll make you match with me right... here," you murmured—a haunting promise.

The blade traced a perilous path, inching towards the area where his heart rested beneath his left pec. His heaving chest forced itself to still, a desperate attempt to avoid any accidental harm as the blade hovered over the epicentre of his being—his heart.

A helpless horror painted his features as he stared at your hand, left frozen in shock, a captive audience to the cruel drama. His body remained unnaturally still. He couldn't move. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't do a damn thing. Any motion, even the slightest twitch, threatened to turn this nightmarish ordeal into a self-inflicted tragedy.

"Or maybe..."

As you moved the blade with deliberate intent, dragging it inches from his skin and his pounding heart, Suguru's body betrayed him. The tip traced a sinister path along Suguru's abdomen, the cold steel scratching his skin but not breaking it. Shiny with sweat, his abdominal muscles twitched involuntarily in response to the metal.

A gasp of distress escaped his lips as the blade brushed against his skin, tickling every nerve ending and sending a sharp pang shooting up to his stomach. The heat emanating from the spot where the blade had touched created an acute awareness of the vulnerability of his soft, pale skin. A thin red line marked the path of the shallow scratch, not even enough to bleed. If he bled, would you be satisfied?

Down his hip bone you pressed the entirety of the flat, cold steel against the plushness of his thigh.

"Maybe here."

His body, already fraught with tension, tensed further at the sensation. The flat against his thigh felt like an icy brand. Suguru's hands shook uncontrollably, his entire being trembling in response to the cruel caress. Eyes, fearful and pleading, darted between your face and the blade. He waited for the anticipated moment of pain that never came.

"You... Please..." he whispered, on the precipice of breaking.

You, however, continued to stroke the inside of his thigh with the blade, a cruel tease. "It would look good carved right here.”

A sharp gasp escaped him as he felt the tingle of the blade running across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. The sensation, a mix of fear and an unexpected wave of arousal, caught him off guard. He pressed his lips together, attempting to stifle any involuntary sounds that might betray the tumult within; but a soft moan escaped Suguru.

"Please…” he begged again, a fragile thread holding on to the remnants of composure, of pride.

You licked your lips, your gaze fixed on the spot where the blade of the knife pressed against his inner thigh, a visual of the precarious balance between torment and perverse desire.

"You want me to be yours... permanently, right? You want me to be your soulmate, your forever—right?" he began, his voice a delicate balance of persuasion and vulnerability. His mind raced with the urgency of finding a way out of this hell.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze anxious as it fixated on the weapon pressed against his thigh.

"What if you can have me in a—in a different way? What if we can have something no other sorcere—no other couple can have?" he whispered, the desperation palpable in his voice. The air seemed charged with the weight of his plea as he attempted to navigate a fragile path between surrender and a desperate attempt at negotiation.

"And that is?" you inquired, a sudden brightness in your eyes catching Suguru off guard. He gave you a wobbly smile, his heart racing in his chest.

"I'll let you have me. In every way possible.”

"Have you?" a shiver ran down his spine, his eyes on yours, searching for any sign of mercy or understanding. "I wanted to take my time with you, Suguru..." you sighed, your gaze dropping to the knife.

"Please... I-I want you to have me," Suguru said, an unsettling desire that clouded his thoughts. "Please."

His body, restrained by ropes and paralyzed by fear, yearned to move, to escape the impending danger, but it remained frozen in place. A darker desire rendered him powerless.

"Please! I'll be good for you. I'll be good for you, I swear..." Suguru's desperate entreaty hung in the air.

You hummed contemplatively, your gaze appraising Suguru as he desperately sought a way out of the impending torment. "How?"

A flicker of realisation brightened Suguru's eyes, a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "There's a way you can keep me without having to—that," he began, his voice shaking but now laced with a newfound confidence. "You can mark me as your own. You can mark me as yours and keep me by your side..." he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his plea echoing in the room.

“How?”

He remained silent for a moment, pride warring with desperation. Suguru bit down on his lip, his mind a chaotic whirlwind of words he yearned to say but hesitated to voice. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, an unrelenting pressure pushing him toward disclosure.

"Touch me.”

For a moment, Suguru was left breathless, his admission hanging in the air like a cloud of uncertainty. He had said anything to make you drop the knife, to replace the impending pain with a different kind of surrender.

"Isn't it too soon? You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for the moment to make you… I wanted it to be perfect.”

In response, Suguru laughed—a genuine sound that echoed in the room, a laughter he hadn't experienced in a long time. A laughter that betrayed the nervous undercurrent beneath the surface, a way to mask uncertainty. The thought of it being a nervous laughter didn't cross your mind, the genuine tone seemingly validating the moment.

That laughter quickly transformed into a smile, the genuine expression playing on his features. Your eyebrows raised inquisitively, observing the way he spoke convincingly about being ready for you.

"Not at all," he whispered, his voice carrying a confidence that contradicted the vulnerability in his eyes. A millionaire smile adorned his face, a façade—the world was, indeed, perfect in that moment.

The handle of the knife in your grip felt unyielding, your knuckles pale from the force with which you held it. Slowly, you leaned your face toward Suguru, your gaze fixated on his lips. A slight tremor ran through you.

Suguru's eyes widened as he observed your approach, the blade pressed against him momentarily slipping from his consciousness. You were so close now, the minimal space between you diminishing further. His eyes fluttered shut, lips parting as his breath caught in his throat.

"Kiss me," he whispered.

The kiss was hesitant and nervous on your end, the palpable tension between you vibrating with adrenaline and a barely suppressed need. As you went to pull away, Suguru deepened the kiss. A quiet moan escaped you into his mouth, and in that moment, the knife slipped from your grip, clattering with relief to the floor. Pleasure swept through him, and any fear he had of the blade was momentarily forgotten. Seizing the opportunity, he took advantage of your distraction, deepening the kiss again with an eager moan.

Your lips met his, tongues finding their place together as the two of you kissed with abandon. Pleasure surged through Suguru as your arms went around his neck, holding him close in a passionate embrace. You cradled his cheeks in your hands instead, even as he stayed tied up. You pushed your tongue greedily into his mouth, and one of your hands laced into his hair, tugging it by the roots gently.

When your tongue entered his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. His body tensed and flexed against the ropes, instinctively rebelling to try and reach you. He moaned softly into your mouth, his hands shaking against the ropes that keep him restrained.

The kiss left both of you panting and trembling, desire and anticipation thick in the air. You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead against Suguru's, locking eyes with him. His gaze, hungry with longing, met yours.

"You..." you started, and Suguru swallowed thickly.

"You look so... Beautiful..." he murmured, his voice breathless and sincere, even if the sincerity was part of the act.

You chuckled airily. Open-mouthed kisses peppered his skin, and he responded with a breathy groan. Starting near his chin and making your way to the base where his ear met his neck, you bit down lightly, running your tongue over the sensitive skin. Suguru gasped, his head angled by the tug of his hair, your other hand gripping the ropes on his chest.

Straining against the ropes, his back arched like a taut bowstring, the bindings leaving indents that promised to bloom into bruises with the back-and-forth torment. With his hair pulled at a different angle, his gaze turned upward to meet yours, the height difference accentuated in this vulnerable state. Hungry eyes watched your every move, his mouth half-open, each inhale catching in his throat.

Your kisses and marks trailed along his neck, the tugs on his hair and the scratches of your nails against his scalp sending shivers down his spine. The hand on his chest ventured down his abdomen, tracing circles against one of his Adonis lines, a teasing touch that further heightened his arousal.

The familiar ache between his thighs pulsed with intensity, a relentless reminder of the desire that simmered. A yearning plea lingered in the air as he pressed himself closer to you, the heat of his breath mingling with the anticipation of your every exhale. He took a deep breath, his racing thoughts hidden behind closed eyes. A silent prayer echoed in the quiet recesses of his mind, a fervent hope that you would attend to the ever-hardening cock that strained to feel you.

Shivers ran through his body as your nails scratched against his skin, a hint of pain mingling with the pleasure to keep him hooked. The ropes dug deeper into his skin, leaving red, painful marks across his back, chest, and shoulder blades. He squirmed, his skin begging for more.

"Ah…!" Suguru let out a half-moan, half-gasp. "T-That... That feels good..."

"You're mine," you mumbled against Suguru's throat before lightly biting it.

A whimper escaped him, his body writhing against the bindings that held him captive. His arms were securely tied, leaving him unable to touch himself or you, but the sensation of your teeth against his skin, against his neck, was enough to elicit a response.

"Fuck... I'm yours..." Suguru mumbled, his eyes closed. There was no room for any other response; he was yours, willingly or not.

"You're safe with me," you reassured, kissing along his collarbones.

His eyes flickered open briefly, only to close again as he noticed the tight grip of your hand in his hair. The pain, a sharp contrast to the pleasure, mingled in a way that seemed to deepen his surrender. The hand massaging his thighs made him squirm, his back arching to intensify the sensation of the ropes against his skin.

"W-Woah, easy on the hair," he muttered out of breath, a plea laced with both discomfort and a desperate need for your touch.

You pulled back, narrowing your eyes and arching a brow. "What was that?"

Suguru whimpered softly, the fear rushing back as your fingers remained entwined in his hair, the tightness starting to border on pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes opened slowly, his heart pounding with the resurgence of apprehension.

"N-Nothing... Nothing at all," he stammered, nervously avoiding your gaze. "I like it when you pull my hair... I like it really—really hard," he added.

A smirk played on your lips as you tugged his hair, bringing his face closer. "Good boy. I know you can take it, because you're strong, aren't you?" you cooed.

"Y-Yes... I'm strong..." Suguru whispered, gritting his teeth, attempting to hide the pain behind those words. He tried to muster a confident smile. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, lying. "I can take it," he whispered, his expression a mosaic of hurt, arousal, fear. "Yeah... I'm a good boy..." he continued, the words laced with a plea for reassurance. "I can take it... I-I can..."

You smiled approvingly and leaned in, kissing Suguru so softly that a moan escaped him, his eyes closing in bliss. The kisses were sweet and tender, carrying an addictive quality that seemed to erase the pain in his hair, replacing it with pure, unbridled pleasure.

In contrast to the softness of your kisses, your hand in his hair maintained its tight grip, a silent assertion of control. The other hand on his thigh sank its nails into the plush flesh, a sensation that brought a sharp intake of breath. The pain, though evident, seemed to intertwine seamlessly with the pleasure of your kisses. Suguru hesitated to voice any discomfort, reluctant to ask you to stop when the pleasure seemed to outweigh the pain.

Suguru was acutely aware of the pre-cum, a testament to the relentless ache that pulsed through his throbbing dick. The warm, wet stickiness coated him, and his fingers twitched to wrap around it just for some relief. His mind painted vivid fantasies where it wasn't his own skin but yours, where the pre-cum painted your skin with the rawness of his desire. The yearning for a deeper physicality clawed at him—your skin flushed against his.

A need that pulsed through him, a need that he found challenging to express: he needed you—needed you desperately, damn it.

A whimper escaped him as your touch lingered on his thigh, the pressure from your fingernails digging deeper. "Oh, God..." he whispered softly, his lips trembling slightly but still yearning for more of your touch.

You pulled back, allowing your hand to fall from Suguru's hair, and instead, you tucked some of his long, silky black strands behind his ears, your hand lingering around the rope on his shoulder. Both of you were breathing heavily, and as you sat back a little, you admired the sight before you.

"You're gorgeous like this, darling,” you remarked, your voice laced with a mix of satisfaction and admiration.

A shiver rolled down Suguru's spine when you pulled away, his eyes slowly opening. He stared back at you with admiration, his gaze flickering down to your hand around the rope as you tucked your hair behind his ears. His breathing stilled, chest slowly rising and falling as he absorbed the sight of you appreciating him. The moment, however, took a sharp turn when your hand pulled away, and his expression shifted from admiration to fear as you drew close to the rope.

"P-Please!"

"Please?" you teased, a smile playing on your lips. Your nails dug into his thigh again, and you pulled, leaving deep, raw scratches.

He yelped and whimpered at the sharp sting, his whole body shivering at the feeling of your fingernails digging into his thigh and pulling. He whined and squirmed in his constraints, the ropes biting into his wrists, torso, and legs. Despite the discomfort, he had no choice but to endure.

"Please, I'll do anything!" he begged, his eyes wide and breath catching in his throat.

You raised your eyebrows, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, I'm sure you will. Because you love me, don't you?"

Your hand on his thigh gently stroked the fresh scratches, a soothing touch that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure. Suguru's breath hitched, and his mind, clouded by desire, struggled to discern whether he wanted to run away.

"Yeah..." he whispered, closing his eyes once more. "I do... I do."

A part of him still yearned to break free, but the fear and anxiety of losing your touch overrode that desire. It was less about escaping and more about staying by your side, ensnared.

You lifted your hand off his thigh, wetting your lips before spitting into your palm. The sudden shock of your spit-slicked hand wrapping around his needy dick made Suguru's body stiffen. Despite the initial shock, the sensation felt undeniably good, and the movement of your fingers made him squirm in both fear and pleasure. His eyes darted between your face and your hand, his breath catching in his throat. Each stroke and pull like a drug, addictive and consuming. Biting his lips furiously, Suguru's face flushed crimson. His face twitched with anxiety, yet his entire body trembled with pleasure.

As the pace of your hand quickened, he keened and whimpered, unable to articulate a coherent response. "Is that how you like it, darling?"

Suguru attempted to form words, but all that escaped were high-pitched whines. His teeth seemed practically glued together as another whimper slipped from his throat, his bound hands pulling on the ropes in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

"Does that feel good? Yeah?" you teased, chuckling and watching his expressions in awe. “Aw, cute… I can feel it twitching.”

"It's so... M’so… Hah, fuck…"

His words failed him. He couldn't even form a sentence. The touch of your hand between his thigh was pure pleasure, and he was unable to keep himself composed. His hands were still pulling on the ropes against his arms, wanting more—so much more. His hips, driven by his muscles flexing and tensing in fervent and rhythmic thirst, pressed against you insistently. Suguru's breath, once controlled, now grew increasingly irregular, as he whined between gasps.

"Please... S-so good," he groaned in frustration. "Oh, please, fuck, I need to… Need to–"

“Yeah? What is it, darling?”

He nodded frantically, his ability to articulate lost in the whirlwind of moans and whines escaping his lips. The sensations between his thighs, guided expertly by your hand, were undeniably addictive. His hips rocked in response, a desperate rhythm that mirrored the instinctive urgency of his body, pushing into your touch with fervent desire.

As your lips met his, Suguru melted into the kiss, every nerve in his body ablaze by the sensation. The rhythmic movements of his hips intensified, a testament to the depth of his longing. Each kiss drew out desperate whimpers, his body writhing in pleasure. Yet, beneath the surface, a palpable tension hinted at the intense need he harboured.

He could envision it—the way he would fill every inch of you, the intoxicating stretch that would make your body slick with sweat. The sounds—the hitch in your breath, the loud moans escaping your lips as pleasure surged through both of you. Your legs would wrap around his waist, craving him closer, more deeply. He would moan, his cock twitching inside you, a testament to the exquisite torture of the denial. Yet even in fantasy, you would smile at him wickedly, using him all for yourself.

You felt the rhythm of his movements, the desperation evident in how roughly he fucked your hand, and you knew the depth of his arousal. Breaking the kiss, you murmured, "You close?" into his mouth.

A wave of pleasure swept through Suguru's body as your whispered words hung in the air. His attempts to speak were stifled by the overwhelming sensations, reduced to a series of groans and gasps. His eyes remained tightly shut, lips trembling, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath.

His hips, driven by instinctive urgency, pushed into the air, need pulsing through him. His cock stood flushed, dripping, and achingly hard, the anticipation etched into every twitch.

Your actions, guided by a blend of desire and control, only deepened his yearning. The precum drooled from his slit, messy and exactly how you liked it. Your saliva-slicked hand teased and pumped him, each movement accompanied by an embarrassingly loud wet sound that resonated with his whimpers.

Just before he could cum, you withdrew your hand, and his body quivered in response, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The abrupt absence of your touch left him gasping for breath, words caught in the throes of long-gone ecstasy. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away, panic contorting his face.

"No, no, please…! Please don't..." he whispered, his plea hanging in the air as he longed for the return of the sensation that had brought him so close to release.

As you pressed your lips against his, a surge of warmth radiated through the touch, your fingers coiled around the taut rope of his shoulder, the lit fuses of lust. The conflict made him beautiful—a part of him, a mere whisper amid the cacophony, yearned to resist, to reclaim control. Yet, that struggle was seared away by the overwhelming touch, by the overwhelming you, making resistance a distant and feeble notion. The texture of the rough fibres kept him tethered to the intensity of the kiss, a dance of lips and tongues that became him.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip; his response was visceral—a loud, involuntary moan—the sound of surrender. His lower lip quivered beneath the sharp pressure, a tangible sign of the white-hot desire surging through his veins. His surrender, the white flag, was taken into your heated hands and scorched to black, to lust. With closed eyes, his world narrowed to the victor, to you.

Breaking the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva lingered, connecting your parted mouths. With a mischievous smile, your hand rose, and your thumb found its place in his parted lips. The wet heat enveloped your digit, his tongue swirling sensuously around it. His eyes, heavy-lidded with arousal, met yours. A groan hung in the air, caught in the rawness of his throat as he eagerly sucked on your offered digit, his tongue curling around it.

"I wanna… Mmmf…! I wanna..." His voice, laced with restrained desire, faltered as he bit down on your thumb, the words teetering on the edge of a plea. "More, more..."

You leaned in, your face tantalisingly close to his, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "More, huh?"

Withdrawing your thumb from his heated mouth, you directed your attention lower, teasingly inching it between his legs once again. The soft pad of your thumb, a gentle torment, caressed the sensitive contours of his length, drawing circles on the leaking head, smearing pre from the slit along the prominent vein of his shaft. He let out a strangled moan, his hips involuntarily frotting into your hand as he gasped for air, unable to respond beyond the primal sounds escaping him. His body shook and his hips bucked desperately.

The hand wrapped around the ropes tugged him nearer, and you rested your forehead against his, the candlelight flickering in the inky black depths of his eyes like a torch in the night.

"You're beautiful," you whispered, “You’re mine.”

Blushing under the weight of your words, his eyes widened. Your breath, a sweet and intoxicating scent, mingled with his. He shuddered, a soft whimper escaping him. Desperate to contain the rising chorus of pleasure, he bit down on his lower lip, the delicate dance of pleasure and restraint evident in the way his hips instinctively rocked. His body trembled under the tender torment of your touch.

"Please," he begged, soft and needy.

"Tell me that I'm the only one for you, the only one to make you feel this way," you murmured, a sly smile playing on your lips.

His brow furrowed with the exertion of pleasure. Your words, a catalyst of praise and affection, wielded a power that rendered resistance incapable. His attempt to deny, to resist your influence, was a futile battle:

"You're... You're the only one," he whispered, surrendering to the truth.

His eyes fluttered shut, teeth gritted, and his hips moved with an urgency that betrayed the depth of his craving. Each thrust forward sought the contact that momentarily eluded him, and a plaintive whine escaped when your touch lingered just out of reach.

“Tell me you want me."

"I... Oh, God, I want you. I want you so much right now. Need you so fucking badly right now."

His admission trembled through the charged air, a declaration of desire that hung heavy between you. His body quivered, and he clamped down on his lips, a valiant effort to withhold further vulnerability. Yet, the pull of your tease and touch unfurled the neediest corners of his soul, a rekindled lust that had nearly withered in the grip of isolation.

"Please…! Please touch me... Please, please touch me again..."

Your question hung in the air, a subtle challenge:

"You feel this?"

The room echoed with a ravenous moan as your hand reached down, cupping Suguru's balls. If the intensity wasn't overwhelming enough, you chose that precise moment to massage his ballsack between your fingers—swollen and heavy with cum, aching to be released. The sudden, deliberate contact jolted him into a realm of heightened sensations, his eyes snapping open to reveal the surrender etched across his face under the spell of your grip.

No words found refuge on his tongue, eclipsed by a primal symphony of moans and the hungry, needy whispers that escaped his parted lips in response to your touch.

"Please..." A quiet whimper, a plea, an admission of craving.

"This is mine now, alright?" you declared, asserting yourself with a subtle squeeze.

Wide-eyed, breath caught in his throat, he found himself ensnared in a web of possession. Your grip, both firm and tight, elicited a soft whimper, his hips instinctively pushing into the touch, yearning for more. The declaration wrapped around him,the reply spilt from him, a desperate cascade of surrender and longing—a willing captive to the depths of your lust:

"Y-Yeah... Y-Yours, fuck…! Oh, God, yours. Your touch is mine, yours... Just yours... Only yours, I want you, need you..."

Your words, a melodic coo, dripped with a seductive assurance. "So obedient, you're learning.”

As your touch found a firm rhythm, a seismic shift surged through him. His body, a canvas for the symphony of pleasure, responded with unrestrained fervour. Fingers curled tightly around the ropes, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the rising tide of need. A guttural moan escaped him, his tongue lolling out involuntarily as breath hitched in his throat.

Rocking forward, every movement strained against the constricting bonds, ropes carving into his skin, a painful reminder of desire, control, captivity. Pleasure, a white-hot current, coiled in the pit of his stomach, setting his nerves ablaze with an intensity that bordered on exquisite agony. But your words, a cascade of praise and affection, were the one craving of his you satiated. He needed you now. He needed you.

You.

A cry, raw and hoarse, reverberated through the room. Tears, involuntary witnesses to the overwhelming ecstasy, streamed from his eyes. His legs tensed, a quiver coursing through them, and his whimpers escalated into squeals. But as you withdrew your touch, a pang of longing seized him, a hurt he hadn't anticipated. Fervent pleas spilt from him, his body squirming in your grip.

"Please…! Oh, fuck… No, no, please…! Please touch me again..." His words, infused with desperation, hung in the air, a plea for the return of the exquisite torment you provided.

"You wanna feel more? Do it yourself," you drawled, a burst of mocking laughter accompanying your words.

Suguru's sob, a raw expression of frustration, mirrored the internal turmoil. Tears blurred his vision, but the silhouette of your smug grin etched itself in his mind. A blend of desire and frustration mingled in his plea, "Please-please-please-please... Please touch me..." The imploring gaze sought your hands for solace.

"Please, darling. For me,” you taunted.

Eyes pleaded, and his body trembled once more as he reluctantly began to move, the tight grip of the ropes emphasising the solitary nature of the act. Sweet, pearlescent tears gathered on his lashes, welling up in those gorgeous eyes, and rolled down his flushed cheeks. They shimmered, streaking his face, as baby hairs stuck to his sweaty forehead. Brows knitted together, frustration etched across his features—what a sight he was for you.

Each thrust into the air was met with a loud whine, but despite the physical effort, it could never replicate you. You were incomparable. Another cascade of tears leaked from his eyes, tracing damp trails down his cheeks. A hot ache coursed through him—that familiar aching bliss.

"It doesn't, ah, feel like you... Like you..." The room hung heavy with the echoes of Suguru's whines.

"Oh, my darling. C'mon, keep going. You're so close now, aren't you?"

His eyes opened, a flush of embarrassment painting his face as he met your gaze. Head shaking in protest, he struggled with the solitary act, his voice trembling, and breaths shallow. The effort, while valiant, felt insufficient, a stark reminder of the absence of your touch.

"I'm... I'm fucking trying…!" he whispered. More whimpers escaped him, the absence of your touch haunting the moment of indulgence.

A groan emerged, lips parting in surrender to pleasure. Your encouragement became his guiding force, pushing him closer. Moans echoed, his eyes rolled back, and his back arched in response to the steady grip of the ropes on his shoulders. Pleasure consumed him, his body wracked with its intoxicating embrace, yet the struggle to contain the sounds persisted.

You seized his jaw, holding his mouth open, a witness to his contorted face—shame, pleasure, fear—those uninvited guests. His body writhed, torn between the desire to escape the situation and the undeniable arousal that tethered him to your command. Feeble protests echoed in the room, his resolve crumbling beneath the weight of your influence..

As his hips accelerated in their erratic movement, a violent shudder seized his entire body. Streams of thanks spilt from his bitten lips, a testament to the overwhelming release that surged through him. Suguru's orgasm, a crescendo of heat and pleasure, shook him violently, the length of his cock now coated in warm, sticky evidence of his climax, thrusting into the air with feverish need.

"There you go, my darling. Good boy, you've done so well," you said affectionately, creating a momentary reprieve, a gentle acknowledgement of his surrender.

The room held the lingering echoes of Suguru's release, his body still trembling as he kneeled there, caught in the aftermath of the fireworks that had set every nerve ablaze. A pyre to pleasure, his chest heaving with each laboured breath—a testament to intensity.

Blissful heat.

As his eyes stayed closed, fingers wrapping around the ropes that bound him, he grappled with the profound impact of the experience. A spectrum of feelings—humiliation, frustration, repulsion—warred within him. Yet, an undeniable satisfaction lingered, a product of the attention you had lavished upon him.

“How many people will do anything for the one they love?”

The weariness clung to Suguru's teary eyes as he fought against the heaviness, attempting to blink away the exhaustion. The world blurred with each slow blink, his eyelids closing reluctantly, weighed down by the fatigue that permeated his entire being. Your hands released the ropes, the final tethers of his consciousness, and he teetered.

"Honestly, Suguru, you’re lucky to have me," you chirped.

The metallic scrape of the knife being lifted off the floor, a sound that would have sparked alertness in any other circumstance, barely registered in his fading awareness.

"If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have been so lenient."

Eyelashes, once vibrant, seemed burdened by the weight of exhaustion. Each blink, a futile attempt to stave off sleep, betrayed the struggle.

"Then again, you’re my one and only, and I’ll do anything for you, ‘cause I love you. Anything."

Lines deepened on his forehead as the battle against fatigue intensified. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, meeting your smiling face.

"Even when you don't know what's best for yourself. Don't scream, okay?" you murmured gently.

He felt the cold press of the knife.

a/n: well. there we are, then. lol. this was a really fun thing to write icl... i should do more yandere stuff in the future :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

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