There's Important Things Going On, Yet Steven Can't Help But Notice...

I just know miguel loves having his hair played with.

he comes home after a long and tiring day and his whole body is tense and he's still fuming, and even when you offered him to come and lay down with you he grumbled, but some part of him couldn't decline the offer.

he'll lay his head over your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your waist while you're raking your fingers through his hair, nails gently scraping his scalp.

he can fall asleep if you stay like this for a while and it's just the same as a cat falling asleep on your lap, you can't bring yourself to move, even shift just a little bit. but his hair is so soft and smells so nice that you easily fall asleep too

My only prayer is that when July comes around, Tumblr will once again change their app icon to be Barbie themed in honour of the greatest thing to ever come forth in film history.

OSCAR ISAAC as SANTIAGO “POPE” GARCIA in TRIPLE FRONTIER; (2019)

claws require brain power

  𝓈ℴ𝒻𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝒹 .ᐟ

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 6.3k word count , fem reader , soff’ dom nanami , bimbo / hyperfeminine reader , sex in a tent ( semi - public ) , meanie gojo , you and nanami are engaged , reader’s twenty four ( 24 ) + nanami’s twenty six ( 26 ) , pet name usage ( ex. baby, little one ) , thigh fucking , fingering , tummy bulgin , cervix kissing , daddy kink , squirting .

maisie’s note to you .ᐟ . . . hai hai haiiii :p i wrote dis like over a year ago so ,, take it easy on lil ol mi<3 i noticed dat my writing style has changed a bit ! minors do not interact !

“do you have everything?”

the sharp clicks of your five inch, baby pink, platformed jimmy choo heels are rhythmic as they tap quickly against the curved, grey cemented footpath in front of your home that leads towards the driveway as you saunter towards your fiancé’s big bodied mercedes-benz gls class truck. you can hear the shuffles and shifts of duffel bags and the wheels of your pink, vintage, dior suitcases and carry ons rolling that nanami had been lugging behind you.

retorting through a gentle coo, you give a, “i have everything nanami,” watching him haul all of your luggage towards the trunk of the car. his muscles flex and constrict underneath the silk, cranberry red button up shirt he wore as he stacks them all atop his two duffel bags like a complex game of tetris and you tilt your head in interest when a piece of blond hair falls across his forehead within his moil and effort.

you can’t help but notice it. he’s so handsome.

releasing a weighty huff from his chest before slamming the trunk closed, nanami dusts off his hands and fixes you with a calm, albeit subtly knowing, honey-brown eyed stare that makes you nibble on the tip of your tapered square acrylic and give him a delicate, innocent smile.

“do you have everything?” he repeats more slowly.

your smile lessens into puffed cheeks and a pout, “yes, i have everything. i think i’d know if i missed something, ‘m not dumb kento—“

“—the minute this car,” he points to it. “leaves this driveway,” his finger flicks downward to the cement, “i’m not turning back. so,” his steps are idle and steady once he starts to walk closer to you. he brings with him an air of effortless authority and sway that makes your knees almost buckle. he smells delicious, too — like, a tinge of burnt vanilla and woodsy tobacco. your eyes are hazy and unfocused when you have to lift them to look up to his tall, six foot height.

nanami notices this and it doesn’t take him by surprise. it’s often more than not that he has to snap his fingers or grip you by the chin with two fingers to center you back down to earth’s gravity. you’re a mess. “do . . . you . . . have . . . everything?” he asks you softly with his index’s knuckle holding your chin up to demand your full, undivided attention. your soft nod is more than enough for him. but you’re his mess.

his voice is still gentle when he mutters, “okay.”

he should probably let you go and open the door so that you two can head out on the road, nevertheless, still, nanami can’t exactly help it. with you this close, he gets a good look at your pretty, no, fucking enchanting face — from your plush lips glittering with your favorite, piña colada scented gloss and the pearls studded along your eyelids that fall into half lids into your irises. “why are you so perfect, hm?”

you grow flustered. you give a tiny squeak and giggle, throwing your arms over his strong shoulders and kick a leg up as you do. the kiss you press against his lips has a bright smack of lipgloss transferring onto them which, oddly, nanami is used to by now. he doesn’t bother to wipe it off, just opens the passenger side’s door so that you can hop up and slide inside the fine, leather interior, then shuts it so that he can round the car and slip into the driver’s.

“i’m so excited,” you’re babbling to him while fluffing your hair and gazing at your reflection through the sun visor’s mirror. “we’re gonna eat s’mores and sing songs and . . .” your words trail off.

nanami thinks it’s because you don’t know what else there is to do. this was your first time going camping — it’s to be expected. “uh,” he rotates the wheel with the heel of his palm while turning onto the freeway’s ramp entrance. “i think you’ll like catching fireflies . . we can go out on a midnight swim in the lake, stargaze—“

“—no,” you whine and fold your arms. “baby, w-wait, i forgot my phone — oh, god, and my lipgloss . . .”

nanami should’ve known. no matter how many times he asked did you have everything, and no matter how many times you answered yes, he should have gone, combed through the house and checked himself. he shakes his head, eyes steady and focused on the road. “i’m not going back,” is all he tells you.

“but nanami—“

“—what did i tell you?” he spares a quick glance at you, not shocked to see a precious, little face full of dejection staring back at him. “i asked you did you have everything, three times. no,” his head shakes again and leans back to start to steer the wheel from atop with one hand while the other arm leans on his door’s armrest. “i’m not going back.”

“. . . kentoooo.”

nanami tells himself that he needs to put his foot down with this one. he won’t give in. he won’t. he won’t.

but you’re something else.

there’s something about you that makes the man bend and succumb to your every desire and wish, no matter how far out or bizarre. he’s aware that not much of anything resides within that pretty head of yours. you weren’t the smartest, or if you could have put it, ‘the sharpest light bulb in the shed’ ( point proven ) but you were his and nanami adored you even so. it’s why he slid a twelve carat diamond ring on that little finger of yours only two years after meeting you for the very, first time.

you had came from a very affluent and well-fixed family — father was the chief financial advisor of a banking corporation and your self-acclaimed hippie of a mother owned a line of essential oils that both housewives and single men alike adored. you had grown up with a golden spoon in your mouth to put straightforwardly, and upon first encounters at a charity gala, nanami had only spoke two sentences to you before he was calling you a spoiled brat with a vacant, impassive expression steamed upon the sharp lines and ridges of his gorgeous face.

you threw a little tantrum, of course — told your daddy on him which, let’s face it, was the most ridiculous and yet, amusing, thing he’s ever seen in all of his, then, twenty four years on earth. ditzy you. you hadn’t known that nanami had met your father before, albeit a few times, and the two of them had formerly established a nice and civil relationship between one another. your face dropping into one of dumbfoundment when you had saw the two shake hands and pick up a conversation on stocks and rising taxes still replays in nanami’s head from time to time.

“you’re the best!” you’re leaning over the middle console to smack a soft kiss into the light scruff of ashen blond hair making home along his jawline when nanami’s climbing back into the car thirty minutes later with your pink iphone and three tubes of lipgloss in hand. “thank you, my love.”

he gives you a simple sigh, “this is the first and last time i’m turning back, do you hear me?”

the hour and a half drive up to the state’s forest is spent with the two of you listening to your customized, ariana grande playlist and you pointing your finger against the window and gasping with glee when you happen to pass a field of cows or horses — tiny, “nanami, nanami! look, look!”s pushing past your lips and him humming and giving you a nod with a slight, “i see, baby.”

having nanami’s big hand clutch your thigh and getting to sit pretty beside him are the only reasons why you enjoy car rides. usually, you’re insufferable. it’s hard for you to keep still sometimes. at home you’re always in the kitchen whipping up new recipes you found on pinterest, irregardless of the fact that you have to run back and forth between it and nanami’s home office to ask him what two thirds of a cup was and what was the point of following the recipe step by step. it had indicated for you to bake the cake at two hundred degrees but you wouldn’t be anything if you weren’t impatient. cranking the heat up to four hundred wouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? it’ll speed up the process.

safe to say, there’s been more than a few instances where all of the windows within your home had to stay opened all night to allow the smell of burnt batter to air out, and nanami keeps a fire extinguisher on hand underneath the sink.

you get to stare at him, too — get to sit and admire his flawless side profile and how his favorite, bronzed rolex wrapped around his wrist gleamed a bright flare into your eyes each occasion the sun’s rays hit it when he happened to turn the wheel. and within the smattery cosmic of your mind upon staring at him for too long, you’re always reminded that you hadn’t known what love had felt like until you met nanami kento.

the words he whispers to you underneath the silent comfort of your bed sheets gives sweet, candied fruit and glacé sorbet a run for their money. the way he kisses your temple when he gathers you within the opulence of his arms is incapable of comparison, nonetheless still, the feeling that blooms within the gates of your heart when he does reminds you of a steaming hot trill of jasmine tea sliding down your throat during a cold day in december. he’s simply everything to you and he makes sure you know that you’re everything to him and more.

“oi! nanami, you’re almost two hours fuckin’ late.”

the sound of shoes scraping against loose pebbles and gravel doesn’t mix well with your whines and aggravated huffs. you’re struggling to walk up the short hill that surfaces out into an open, even plane of dirt that spreads out about five yards length and width — surrounding your campsite is nothing but tall trees of cedar and pine.

gojo had lifted open the flap of the dome tent that had been assembled near the entrance of the trail. he lets out a long, low whistle upon the view of nanami lugging up three duffel bags and two carry ones over his back and arms and places his hands on his hips. gojo gives a bright smile. “that’s what i like to see. you’re working the hell out of him — ah, nanami would you like some help?”

before nanami can cut his eyes at him in annoyance, gojo’s blatantly ignoring him and offering you a hand to help you not twist an ankle on a random stone. he’s laughing when he asks you, “any higher heels and you could’ve broke your neck.”

your eyes are full of fear when they look up into his at the simple thought of that happening, “you think so? should i . . should i have not worn these? but all i brought were heels.”

“you’re fine,” nanami lets the baggage fall to the ground with dull thuds and scowls at gojo. “i’ll carry you on my back if we happen to walk a long distance.”

utahime’s exiting the pop up tent that had been constructed a few feet away from gojo’s and she’s smiling upon the view of you two and immediately pulling you in for a warm hug, “it’s always so nice to see you,” she sighs. “oh!“ her eyes widen upon her first view of an influx of pink suitcases and bags while nanami crouches low to unzip a duffel to start constructing the tent. “you brought a lot.”

“i had to,” you bite your bottom lip over a pretty grin. “you didn’t? but . . — nanami am i the only one who brought so many things?” your eyes are cutely wide with the new revelation.

gojo nods, “yes.”

though at the same time nanami tells you, “no,” he even looks up at you from what he’s doing to assure you that. “you brought just enough, angel.”

and his word is always right. your pretty face brightens again and you clap your hands quickly, “okay, good,” you giggle. “can i help you build the tent?”

nanami’s giving you the go ahead, allowing you to walk over and grab the pamphlet of instructions. upon first opening it, you’re greeted with black and white pictures of what was supposed to be in the kit and there’s arrows pointing to where and how you’re supposed to assemble poles and hooks. your brain quickly goes haywire. “hm,” you bite your bottom lip.

gojo’s calling out, “ah, don’t stress yourself out too much, sweetheart.”

you huff a pout and nanami’s letting a small smile lift his lips as he gently pries the pamphlet from your manicured fingers. truthfully, he just wanted to see how you’d react to them, see if you’d try to stick it out and try to understand them or not. he knows that you will, you always try to, however, “i got it,” he takes one of your hands and pulls it close to stow a sweet kiss upon your knuckles. “why don’t you go rest your pretty feet in utahime’s tent while i get finished with ours, huh?”

the sugarcoated pout that takes over your lips has nanami’s heart in a vise. “but . . i want to help. i’m not dumb, kento—“

“—i know you aren’t but, still this is hard and i don’t want you fussing over this, beautiful. gotta save all that intellect for later on in our trip.”

he always knows what to say. your pout starts to lift into a smile which you try to fight but he sees right through it. as much as you know you can be a little dense headed, you try just as hard to power through it. nanami thinks it’s cute. his eyes glow akin to seas of liquid gold when he smiles and kisses your knuckles again. “go on.”

you sigh a little, “fine.”

the minute you’re inside the tent with utahime, nanami’s smile is falling upon first look at gojo. “one more slick comment and your head’s going to be floating in that fucking lake.”

there’s a big, gum-showing smile stretching his cheeks as the man leisurely walks over to nanami who starts to separate the materials into separate piles. “two years, man . . and you’re engaged to her,” he sucks his teeth and crouches down beside him. “gotta give you your props, nanami.”

“just admit it, satoru,” nanami doesn’t need the instructions. he flicks them away with a finger and starts to assemble the tent as if he had done it dozens times before. “you’re mean to my fiancé because you want to fuck her.”

the splutters that follow nanami’s words are loud however, both men know that they are true. gojo acknowledges that there’s no point in lying. once nanami kento has his mind made up about something, there’s no point in trying to change it. “so what?” is all he says while childishly flinging a pebble nanami’s way so that it hits his arm. “she’s pretty . . and she’s dumb. what more can you ask f—“

gojo prides himself on having quick reflexes . . and nanami does the same.

the second the blond reaches out to snatch his neck up and around so that his arm is wrapped around it and gojo’s in a headlock, the other man is tilting his body weight back so that nanami falls flat on his back and he has his arms wrapped around his legs to keep him from kicking.

“let me go.”

“you let go first.”

gojo digs his fingernails into nanami’s forearm but his grip is only tightening. he’s hardly able to breathe, let alone talk. “. . f-fuck, alright! sorry, sorry!”

“for what?”

gojo holds his tongue and nanami pulls his arm tighter around his neck by tugging at it with his free hand. “s-shit!” gojo hisses. “damnit, nanami! your girl—“

“—wife,—“

“—alright, your fucking wife! i won’t act like a dick anymore.”

both men release each one another simultaneously. gojo rubs his neck with a slight smirk on his face while nanami goes back to assembling the tent calmly. “what kind of pussy does she own?”

the sharp, thunderous crack of nanami’s knuckles colliding into the bridge of gojo’s nose is loud enough for a flock of birds perched a few trees away to squawk and quickly soar away with heavy wings flapping against their bodies.

you had thought that camping would be like how it was portrayed in movies and television shows; with everyone in the group circling around the fire singing songs, eating hotdogs, just having a grand time.

you hadn’t expected this.

it’s only day two of the trip and you’ve been bitten at the ankle and collarbone of all places by pesky mosquitos, your hair’s been frizzing up due to the humidity of being so high up in the forest, and you’ve barely been sleeping the past two nights because all you hear are cicadas and the constant, piercing shrill of crickets. sometimes, you think they’re going to slither underneath the protective flaps and layering of the tent and crawl inside of your mouth.

you’re sobbing to nanami come evening of day three, “baby . . baby, look at me! i’m a mess!”

nanami’s clicking his tongue fondly and pulling you by the waist so that you stand between his legs. he’s seated on the full sized cot inside of your tent that you had cutely decorated with plush throw blankets and fluffy pillows layering the flooring. you’ve never missed your california king sized bed more than you did now. “no, you don’t—“

“—these bites are itchy,” you reach up to scratch at the stupid nip focused right near the edge of your left collarbone that seemed to be growing and becoming more irritated by the hour. “and . . and as much as i like showering in the pretty waterfall, i miss bubble baths and eating steak and steamed lobster and caviar with crackers.”

nanami’s looking up at your pout and he tries to fight it, he does, but he can’t help but break out into a smile which he quickly hides by bowing his head and clearing his throat. unfortunately, you still catch it. you smack his shoulder, “can you stop laughing at me?”

“i’m not, i’m not. look at me,” he’s gathering your attention and grabs you by the waist to pull you in again and kiss your tummy softly. “i told you to stop scratching them. you’re only going to make them bleed.”

you watch him reach for the first aid kit he had placed underneath the cot to unfasten and grab a small tube of benadryl which he opens and dots a good amount on his finger. “c’mere.”

you have to take a seat on the thigh of one of his legs so that he’s able to rub the cooling gel over the bite and massage it in. it’s so comforting — the feeling of the sharp sting slowly dwindling and ebbing away into nothing, as well as nanami’s palm, slightly calloused from past years of sorcery work rubbing into your skin. unknowingly, you melt into him and nanami notices. “feels good?” he asks you delicately, watching you pout and nod and lay the side of your face against his shoulder. “i think you just had a long day, sweet girl,” he sighs.

you have a feeling that he’s right . . nanami always is.

“how about you get some rest, hm?” he kisses your temple after he rubs the medication into the bite on your ankle. you don’t bother to fight.

you slip into your pajamas on your own and climb underneath the comforter to lay your head on a pillow. it has been a long day. usually you fight your sleep however tonight, it washes over you without a blink missed. even so, you don’t overlook the soft kiss your fiancé presses against your cheek as you let the dark cloaks of slumber enfold you.

with you going to sleep so early, the end of your last rem cycle wakes you up at approximately 4.17 am, giving you a good nine hours of sleep you hadn’t even known you needed — furthermore proving that nanami knows best.

the man lays beside you, fast asleep, facing you with a bare arm thrown over your torso, keeping you close against his own chest. in the quiet of the early morning, you’re able to lay and stare at him without shying away from his eyes that always seemed to bore holes into your own.

you’re able to carefully lift your hand and trace invisible lines around the natural, soft arch of his brow, the strong, straight, downward slope of his nose, and across the plush dip of his cupidsbow with your small fingers. he’s so . . . pretty, so . . . strong. he always manages to make you feel protected, even so with just one arm wrapped around you. the joy that sprouted in your heart when he had proposed to you stays unmatched to this day.

him? he wanted you to be his wife? to love, to cherish, to hold past the end of time, to grow old with, to go on crazy, little adventures with, to have kids with? you?

the one who had always been the butt of jokes as a little girl, the one who had countless of men wanting to bed but not wed since the age of eighteen. you didn’t understand. in a way, you still don’t, albeit, you’ve learned to push those thoughts aside and focus on the now. you have him and he has you.

with a smile, you kiss his lips.

you keep kissing him until he starts to kiss you back, and though he’s making little grunts and grumbles at having his sleep disturbed, you ignore them because you just can’t help it. sometimes the happiness just hits you in your chest with a big surge and you have to let it out.

you drag your left leg up his hip to hold and tilt your body weight so that you flip him over onto his back and end up straddling him. nanami’s looking up at you through foggy eyes and you’re staring down at him with a big grin. “it’s . .” he reaches for his phone on the floor, powers it on then squints at the screen. “four in the morning, little one. what’s goin’ on?”

“nothin’,” you sing softly and slide your hands slowly up the rocky plane of his abs to his pectorals. “i just . . i missed you.”

nanami’s confusion is written all over his face. he’s not much of a morning person, you know this. “. . i’m right here.”

he is. all blond haired, brown eyed, six feet of him.

you sigh and lean down to capture his lips with yours once more, cupping the side of his face with one of your palms, feeling the scruff of his five o’clock shadow underneath it. you hope he’s able to feel the love you have for him pouring out of you with each click of your lips separating, and at the way you sigh out sweetly through your nose in content, and when your hips start to rock against his firm morning wood, hidden underneath his sweats. for what you’re unable to describe through words, you make sure he’s able to feel it.

“oh, i get it now,” he says. his voice is hushed.

surrounding your tent is nothing but silence, save for the slight rush of water from the waterfall a couple yards away. it’s deadly quiet.

nanami can see that his baby wants, though. can see it in the way your eyes go half lidded and you pull your thumb up to nibble on the nail when he grabs you by the hips, lifts his thigh up and starts to make you rub your needy, little cunt over it.

“a-awh!”

nanami covers your entire mouth with his palm. your eyes are big. “shh, shshsh,” he whispers. there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “i know it’s hard for you to understand words when you get like this. isn’t that right?”

you nod shakily.

“but you have to be quiet, you hear me?”

you nod once more. nanami trusts you. he drops his hand to have it grab your hips again to work you steadily back and forth, back and forth. his pace is unhurried . . he works you as if there’s a slow tune playing in the background that only he hears and knows. it feels good. the much needed friction of the lace of your panties and the cotton of his sweats rubbing up against your clit already has your eyes going bleary and unfocused as you look down at him.

“keep lookin’ at me — that’s right,” nanami still feels the tinctures of sleep passing through his veins. it has his own eyes growing heavy and his limbs feel like they weigh a ton, however if anything, the drowsiness makes this feel better. he’s able to slowly lower his thigh to instead shift you over his cock and you, already so dumb, simply sit on it, waiting for him to buck you back and forth again. “can you take this off for me?” he tugs at the button down you wore that belonged to him. it’s oversized — hangs off of your body like a duvet, stopping near the beginning of your knees and continuously slipping off of the hill of your shoulder.

your little fingers work hurriedly and your acrylic nails tap and click against each other as you do. with each strip of skin that’s shown, he feels his brain spiraling deeper and deeper into a portion full of nothing but you.

nanami prides himself on being an intelligent man. having gone to one of the top universities in the country, secured a job as a stockbroker, and he’s still on call for the occasional curse job here and there; he’s aware that he’s very well rounded.

but around you . . . sometimes, he’ll admit, he goes a little dumb, too.

“fuck.” it shows when he makes his hand fall down upon your ass with a loud smack that makes you yelp and he’s positive gojo and utahime must’ve heard it. “mmm.”

he groans, lifts up and plants a kiss right over your heart before he’s stamping a path to one of your nipples and collecting it inside of his mouth. you’re whimpering quietly, holding onto his shoulders and now beginning to swirl your hips over his cock to feel more. “daddy.”

nanami rolls the small bud over his tongue and lightly pulls it with his teeth until it’s hard, standing upright, and laminated with his spit. only then, does he turn to the other to give it the same attention.

you’re hiccuping now, bucking a little harder which makes the cot start to creak.

“mm — be still,” nanami’s voice comes out in a low gruff that makes you obey, even if you really, really didn’t want to. his tongue is clever and his teeth are sharp . . they nip and bite all over your tits and neck until bruises the tone of maroon and wine bloom all over the canvas of your skin. nanami can’t help but smack one, just to watch the flesh jiggle before he’s laying back down, pulling you with him, and rolling you over until you both are laying on your sides.

you don’t need him to ask, or rather, you’re too eager to do it yourself, but you push down his sweats just enough for his cock to spring up and out into the open air. it hits his lower tummy with a slap . . long, thick, and drooly; you scoot closer to nanami to grab it and carefully slide it between the small opening of your thighs, watching his eyes close at the feel.

“oh, shit,” he groans and carefully starts to thrust his hips while holding yours to keep you still. the tightness the smooth, soft skin of your thighs provide him with is heavenly. “already doin’ so good for me. just . . k-keep still, let daddy use you for a little while, huh?”

you’re letting out these little pants because with each thrust, your clit’s still getting stimulated by the roof of his cock and it’s just enough for your eyes to roll back into your skull as your mouth falls open. “feels . .” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy.”

hazy, lust filled eyes usually the tone of honey darken into a more muddy gold. they dart over your blissed out face, your bruised tits jiggling and squishing down into the bed with each movement of your arms, and the lewd image of his cock pressing in between the doughy skin of your thick thighs. nanami can cum from the sight alone.

“nanami . .” you’re gasping when he picks up a quicker rhythm, eyes lifting to look up into his.

“so fucking loud.”

his next movements are quick. he pulls his cock from between your thighs, snatches down your panties which don’t even make it past one of your calves; just stays wrapped and tangled around it, then he’s flipping you over and pulling your back into his chest. you’re panting, needy body wriggling and squirming against him. you want him . . . you need him. nanami kento to you is what pollen is to a bee, flame to a moth, gravity is to everything on fucking earth. “please,” you’re sobbing. “please, daddy. p-please.”

“fuck are you whining for, huh?”

his words are mean but his voice is gentle and sweet. he licks his fingers and carefully directs them between your legs, not surprised to feel you absolutely dripping. you’re a mess. two of his fingers are sliding inside your sticky cunt with a loud squelch when they bottom out and he watches your body shiver all over as you push your ass further back to somehow feel more. “so greedy,” he whispers, fucking them in and out to hear those toe-curling, mouth-watering squelches echo inside of his ears. “so, so good for me.”

his praise makes you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his fingers as a new rush of slick gushes out of you.

you can’t describe the joy you feel when he pushes his arm underneath your head to give you some leverage, lifts your leg up with the other and starts to rub his throbbing dick between your puffy lips, giving you both some well needed friction. he’s overwhelming every single one of your senses.

you smell his cologne, feel his body all over yours, taste him underneath the musk of you when he carefully slides his fingers past your lips, hear him coo’ing underneath his breath at how pretty you look.

when he finally pushes inside of you, it’s like breaking down a dam. you’re crying at the ungodly pleasure it brings, no, he brings. your dumb, little mind can’t handle it. “thank you,” you’re babbling and hiccuping. “d-daddy . . daddy—“

“—i know, baby. i know,” nanami tilts his face closer to align his lips atop of yours to swallow each little gasp and whine once he suddenly slams in. “daddy knows.” he doesn’t want to torture you any longer. you’ve been so good for him these past couple days, so good to him. you deserve this. you deserve everything your airy little brain and big, lovable heart desires.

he fucks you slow . . . and deep. carefully pulls his hips back and alternates between driving them back forward leisurely and swirling his hips to angle up into that one, gummy bundle of nerves that has a pool of drool forming underneath your chubby cheek. “that’s my good girl,” he’s whispering, holding your shaky leg up by the back of your knee so that you both can watch his fat and heavy balls smack against your swollen clit with a sticky tap each time he bottoms out. “takin’ it so good . . does it feel good?”

your nods are slow as if they’re trying to catch up with your quivering body. you’ve gone non-vocal and now nanami knows that you feel especially good. it makes him smile atop your lips before he’s pressing one last peck against them and pulling his face back to get a good look at you once his pace and strength quickens.

your mouth drops, eyebrows furrow, and cute nose scrunches up.

“there it is.”

the smacking of skin is loud and distinct, and he knows that it’s evident what you two are doing by now and he knows that you two are a little loud but nanami can’t bring himself to care about that anymore. you just feel so good. you’re tight and you’re wet and having you so close makes him feel like his heart was going to burst out of his chest and swell bigger than a balloon at the same while.

“oh god,” you’re hiccuping and holding onto the ledge of the creaking cot. “oh my . . god, kento.”

the diamond encrusted anklet around your ankle dangles the letters K&N. believe it or not, you had actually been the one to surprise nanami with it eight months ago when you came home from one of your day-long shopping sprees. seeing his initials dangling off a piece of jewelry so dainty and pretty on you had woken something inside of nanami that he hadn’t even known was dormant. each time he sees it, he wants to break you, and coincidentally, you never take it off.

nanami bends your leg almost all the way back until your thigh nears your shoulder just to hear the way the letters jingle as they hit each other. “fuck,” he curses, eyes cycling back into his head. “f-fuck.”

your moans are so pretty — high pitched, breathy, and broken. you have his hips stuttering prior to him starting to fuck you harder. you hadn’t even known he could but he’s proving you wrong at the way you can feel your ass clapping back off of his slim hips with each push of them against it. you’re babbling shaky ‘daddy’s’ and ‘t-too much’ while he just keeps you still.

his voice is trembly and quiet when he says, “a-almost there, sweet thing. you’re almost there.”

you’re going to make a mess — you feel it in the way your pedicured toes curl and how your clit seems to pulsate harder by the second. “hhnnng,” your brain is driven so empty that you can’t even say it.

your cum gushes out of you in fast, long spurts that manages to hit the floor past the edge of the bed. the rest dribbles out in ripples and tides, getting all over nanami’s balls and both of your thighs. he powers you through it; never stops nor decreases his pace, he keeps you right where he wants you, forcing you into overstimulation. you’re squeaking, “ ‘nami — daddy . . w-wait — oh, stars!”

nanami feels his own edge getting closer. he slips himself over you so that he’s on top yet he keeps your one leg up and stretched and soon grabs the other to do the same and folds you into a perfect mating press.

you have a love hate relationship with the position. you love it because you get the perfect view of your fiancés fat, long cock dropping into and pulling out of your sloppy pussy. you get to see his tummy fold as he bends to keep his neck from straining and you especially love how you can see the print of his cock pushing against the skin of your stomach, further showing you just how big he truly is.

but, still, you’re always so easily overwhelmed because with this position he digs in deep. his tender tip bumps against your cervix, rubbing up against it and your g-spot. it’s a weird feeling. sometimes, all you can sob is, “h-hurts so good.” thankfully, he understands.

“doin’ so good for me.” pieces of blond hair fall across his forehead and jump in time against it with his thrusts. the way he’s staring down at you makes you shake. “can you give me another one?” he licks his thumb before pressing it against your clit and dragging tiny, quick circles on it. “give daddy one more, princess. please, baby. just . . one more.”

you’re so weak. you can only nod wordlessly and let your body give into his. you let him fuck you until his name is the only thing that rings in your brain, until your pussy’s aching with the stretch of him battering it sore, until you’re squirting again for the second time . . getting nanami’s lower torso and your own dirty with your fluids.

you make him smile. “there we fuckin’ go.”

his own orgasm creeps up on him slow. it starts from his feet, makes him curl his toes once he feels the thick flames licking at the base of his gut before it surges up to his calves — they tense, along with his thighs. and his jaw’s clenching tighter come the swelling of his balls filling with cum. he’s gripping your thighs until they start to bruise. “fuck . . fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he’s grunting, making his hips slam into your ass at the pace of his words before ultimately, it’s hitting him with a grand slam.

his balls draw tight before the first shot of thick, opaque white is bursting inside of your womb. nanami goes scarily still and throws his head back with the muscles in his neck straining as he fucks his cum as deep as it can go with jerky little tilts of his hips.

you mewl.

you feel warm inside . . and exceptionally full.

he’s pumping you swollen, filling you up with his thick seed until he can no longer fill you anymore. “fuck,” he’s breathing hard, dropping his head and looking down at you.

you’re so fucking cute. you just . . lay there with a stupid, little smile of content on your face and hazy eyes as you massage his thighs with your small fingers as if you weren’t the one, one move away from being folded into a fucking pretzel. nanami chuckles. oddly enough, he’s thinking back to gojo’s question from earlier in the trip . . . what kind of pussy do you own? for him to feel on top of the moon like this, he’s convinced you’re just a figment of his imagination.

however, upon leaning down, kissing your lips, and intertwining his fingers between the spaces of yours, nanami knows that you’re one hundred percent true.

❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © poutsiez !

He got his lips out like he wants to be kissed so bad it makes him look stupid

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

rydal keener x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: slow and soft

warnings: angst, piv sex

word count: 0.4k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

“Why do you have to leave” he complains in what could almost resemble a whine as his hips push languidly into you, as he holds tighter onto your intertwined fingers besides your head. Your free hand grabs the back of his head, burying into his soft, straight hair, pushing him down onto your face so your lips could meet.

You sigh into his mouth as his tongue slips into yours, that sweet feeling you know you will miss and long for the moment you will realize you’re apart for good.

You should have known it was a bad idea, falling in love with a man you knew you would have to leave eventually. 

“I don’t want to, believe me” you breathe out against his mouth once you pull away, brushing along his cheekbone with your thumb. “I’d stay by your side if I could” you nod, staring deep into his eyes as the inner corner of his eyebrows angled up in a weakened expression. "But Greece isn’t where I should be" you muttered under your breath, your own words making your heart break.

He grunts as he angles his thrusts deeper inside you, making you grab onto his bicep as your mouth falls open.

"You should– you should be by my side, it doesn't have to be about Greece" he declares before he lets out a strangled moan, squeezing your hand as his forehead presses against yours.

"And– give up the life you built here?" you ask, your hand traveling back up his arm, your thumb caressing the hollow of his neck.

"Yes." his answer is rushed, the idea of a second thought completely scratched. 

You chuckle, stunned by the absurdity of the possibility. Your heart still aches at the fact that he was ready to leave everything behind for you.

"I can't." you weakly admit as his head buries into your neck. “You’ll be okay without me. Find someone else, love her as much as you loved me, even more. I won’t be mad at you”

You feel his tears dampening your skin, his breath faltering in quiet sobs as he still continues to press light, gentle kisses to your skin as he thrusts slowly and deep into you. You bite down onto your lip as you feel your own tears starting to threaten your eyes and a knot forming at your throat.

The worst part of this is holding you tight knowing it's the last time he ever will, knowing you will be gone tomorrow.

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

tagging some mutuals because I don't have a rydal taglist, feel free to ignore <3: @my-secret-shame @campingwiththecharmings @spacecowboyhotch @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @whatthefishh @missdictatorme @melodygatesauthor @midgardian-witch @foxilayde

+ @flightlessangelwings

Patching him back up.

heyyyy!! might seem random and I don’t know if you listen to Lana Del Rey at all so feel free to ignore me, but if you do, what are some of her songs that you associate with Oscar’s characters (like Poe, Llewyn, Miguel, Rydal, the Moon boys... whatever, I’m not picky). Love your work btw!

dear anon, you are in luck, you have no idea how much.

I don't listen to lana that much, I do listen to a few songs and appreciate her work but my dear best friend @eatingyouryoung happens to have the oscar + lana brainrot cocktail

when I asked her for help to answer this ask, she happened to have already thought about this and sent me a 5 pages long document she had written about the subject, so there you go:

Llewyn:

In My Feelings

« Could it be that I fell for another loser I'm crying while I'm cummin' Making love while I'm making good money Sobbin' in my cup of coffee 'Cause I fell for another loser Get that cigarette smoke out of my face You've been wasting my time While you're taking what's mine, with the things that you're doing Talk that talk, well now they all know your name And there's no coming back from the place that you came Baby don't do it 'Cause you got me in my feelings (catch you, it's so much right now) Talking in my sleep again (you can whistle if you want) »

Brooklyn Baby

« Well, my boyfriend's in a band He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything I'm a Brooklyn baby » « They say I'm too young to love you They say I'm too dumb to see They judge me like a picture book By the colors, like they forgot to read I think we're like fire and water I think we're like the wind and sea You're burnin' up, I'm coolin' down You're up, I'm down You're blind, I see »

Rydal:

California

« I shouldn't have done it, but I read it in your letter You said to a friend that you wish you were doing better I wanted to call you, but I didn't say a thing Oh, I'll pick you up If you come back to America, just hit me up » « You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are When you're lying in my arms, and, honey You don't ever have to act cooler than you think you should You're brighter than the brightest stars You're scared to win, scared to lose I've heard the war was over if you really choose The one in and around you You hate the heat, you got the blues Changing like the weather, oh, that's so like you »

Lucky Ones

« Boy, get into my car, got a bad desire You know that we'll never leave if we don't get out now, now, now You're a careless con and you're a crazy liar, but, baby Nobody can compare to the way you get down, down, down I tried so hard to act nice like a lady You taught me that it was good to be crazy Every now and then, the stars align Boy and girl meet by the great design Could it be that you and me are the lucky ones? Everybody told me love was blind Then I saw your face and you blew my mind Finally, you and me are the lucky ones this time »

Santiago:

On Our Way

« Why do I think too much? You tell me not to worry Because you're the boss And you, you got a real good plan My trouble's all over now Because you're my man You don't know what you've done to me You're heavier than heavenly Life on the run has set me free, me free now We're on our way »

Poe:

Love Song

« Dream a dream, here's a scene Touch me anywhere 'cause I'm your baby Grab my waist, don't waste any part I believe that you see me for who I am So spill my clothes on the floor of your new car Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are? »

Miguel:

Black Beauty

« I paint my nails black I dye my hair a darker shade of brown 'Cause you like your women Spanish, dark, strong and proud I paint the sky black You said if you could have your way You'd make it nighttime all today So it'd suit the mood with your soul Oh, what can I do? Nothing, my sparrow blue Oh, what can I do? Life is beautiful, but you don't have a clue Sun and ocean blue Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you »

Marc:

Say Yes to Heaven

« If you dance, I'll dance And if you don't, I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away I've got my eye on you »

Jake:

Honeymoon

« There are violets in your eyes There are guns that blaze around you There are roses in between my thighs And a fire that surrounds you It's no wonder every man in town Had neither fought nor found you Everything you do is elusive To even your honey dew »

Steven:

Prom Song (Gone Wrong)

« Boy, it's late, walk me home, put your hand in mine At the gate, stop and say, "be my valentine" You are, by far, the brightest star I've ever seen, and I never dreamed I'd be so happy that I could die You used to say that I was beautiful like Cleopatra But you the king too, so I would say, "back at ya" I flip my hair and make you stare and put my makeup on And make up stories 'bout my life and put on very cherry bomb And even then, I knew that we were something serious That you would dominate my thoughts like radio to Sirius »

Nathan:

Pretty When You Cry

« All those special times I spent with you, my love They don't mean shit compared to all your drugs But I don't really mind, I've got much more than that Like my memories, I don't need that I'll wait for you, babe, you don't come through, babe You never do, babe, that's just what you do Because I'm pretty when I cry »

Blue:

Dealer

« I check it, I wreck it, I turn it around I gave you all my money, gave you all my money Gave you all my money, gave you all my money I don't wanna live I don't wanna give you nothing 'Cause you never give me nothing back Why can't you be good for something? Not one shirt off your back Why can't you be good for something? Not one shirt off your back »

Jonathan:

Young and Beautiful

« Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven Please let me bring my man When he comes, tell me that you'll let him in Father, tell me if you can All that grace, all that body All that face makes me wanna party He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds »

Leto:

National Anthem

« I'm your national anthem God, you're so handsome Take me to the Hamptons, Bugatti Veyron He loves to romance 'em, reckless abandon Holding me for ransom, upper echelon He says to be cool but, I don't know how yet Wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck I said, "Can we party later on?" He said, "Yes, yes, yes" »

here you go :))

Weightless.

Steven Grant x FReader.

Tags - Warnings: Sad baby Steven. Angst but not that bad, lol. Mentions of violence. Mentions of Marc and Jake. Word count: 1477. Summary: The feeling of being trapped goes beyond the ankle bracelet that keeps him tied to the bed. It’s the emptiness of waking up every day without knowing what happened the night before, the memories of a relationship he didn’t experience firsthand, or perhaps the empty sockets of a deranged god looming over him every minute of the day.

First he hears the alarm, then he feels the pain of his entire body throbbing because Marc did who-knows-what with it. Or maybe it was Jake. Does it even matter? The point is that someone didn’t have the courtesy to keep the suit on for a few more seconds the previous night so that Steven could wake up without feeling like a truck had run him over.

Fortunately, this time he remembered to remove the ankle restraint before getting up to avoid a doubly painful fall. It didn’t take much effort for him to stand up; he was never one of those people who liked to stay in bed after the alarm went off, although, of course, that was also Marc’s fault.

If he could avoid being in bed as much as possible, it was better for him.

He swallowed the lump in his throat when he noticed the absence of one of the two goldfish that had been living in his fish tank for the past few months. He didn’t even want to ask, although the mess in his apartment was explanation enough that some kind of fight had taken place there.

When he looked at his reflection in the spoon he used to mix his coffee, he hoped that one of them would apologize. Marc did it occasionally, Jake would silently fix the mess and hope that would be enough to solve his mistake.

Nothing.

Silence, not even a glance.

That’s how it was for a few seconds until his phone rang, notifying him of a message.

✉  →  Lovey. ♡

✉ ; Good morning, Steven!

✉ ; Do you want a donut? I’m about to buy some for breakfast.

✉ ; Goodnight! Love you. <3

✉ ; Hey there! Look at this picture of a kitten I found. It looks just like you, don’t you think?

✉ ; Goodnight. :)

Finally, amidst six unanswered messages from you, Steven finds one of his own.

✉ ; I kove tou.

He rolls his eyes to himself. Did he really send that without even checking if it was properly written? Well, it was to be expected, it was the last thing he did before falling asleep.

Another problem caused by Jake and Marc. They checked text messages the second they arrived, so when Steven wanted to communicate with you, he found himself with at least ten of your messages unanswered, just opened, waiting for a response.

Frustration made him close his eyes and take a deep breath. Couldn’t they do that one simple thing for him? Just let him know he had to reply to something. It was simple.

“Jake? Marc?” He called out as he turned his head towards his open bathroom. He could see his reflection from there without any problem.

There was no response.

“She matters to me.” It was the only thing he said as his knuckles pounded on the table, a self-soothing action. “She’s all I have. Do you know that?”

Marc wants to object but stays silent so Steven can continue.

"She’s all I have.” This time his voice breaks, and his hand continues with the pounding. “My apartment is no longer mine. I no longer have my job. I no longer have my body. I no longer have my life.” The pounding grows stronger as tears fill his eyes.

Steven has never had a problem with his sensitivity. When he feels the need to cry, he does, and that’s it.

“She matters to me.” He repeats. “And you can’t do one simple thing for me, which is to support me.” He slams his phone with the opposite hand against the table. “I’m going to lose her because you can’t even notify me that I have a message to respond to. You’re suffocating me, both of you.”

There were a few seconds of silence before he continued speaking. “I’m trapped.” It was the last thing that came out of his lips.

As if God himself had heard his words, the poor phone starts ringing. It’s a call, and Steven can do nothing but take a deep breath and clear his throat so that his voice doesn’t sound as fractured as it feels.

It’s you. And you don’t wait a second after the ringtone ends, not even waiting a greeting from his side.

“This city is trying to kill me.” You say quickly, taking advantage of the fact that for the first time in a long time Steven managed to answer the call in time. “Do you want to go to the beach?”

Steven laughs. Well, more like exhales through his nose, doubting whether you’re serious or not.

“I’m 5 minutes away from your apartment.” You speak again to confirm that you’re not joking. “Do you want to go? Are you free?” He can hear your smile in your voice.

“I’m free.” His gaze wanders over the mess in his apartment; he’s definitely not free. Besides, he already knows that on Wednesday afternoons Jake… Whatever it is he does those days, he never wanted to answer him.

“Steven.” The voice finally makes itself heard in the mirror. “Not today. You know that I…”

“Please, let’s go.” The English accent is stronger when he’s annoyed, you’ve noticed that even though seeing him annoyed is like seeing Halley’s Comet. “I can’t take it anymore. Please, take me.”

“Do you think we should pursue architecture?” You hit the plastic bucket with your small plastic shovel until your instinct tells you that you can lift it without risking the sand getting stuck.

You form the piece number 8 in your huge sandcastle while Steven is trying to figure out how to create a fake tiny lake without the sand swallowing the water.

It’s fascinating to see him in a completely different environment from the one you always find yourselves in. In the city, there’s always noise, people are always busy, always rushing from one place to another, and you feel your lungs hurt from breathing in the pollution around you.

You prepared enough activities to keep yourselves occupied the whole day, and you were still on the first one, spending a good twenty minutes concentrating on building the sandcastle. Of course, the first ten were a struggle to avoid fixating on Steven’s tanned skin, the way a small belly formed in his body from sitting upright, or even the muscles in his arms flexing as he dug with his own tiny shovel.

When you noticed his focus on the game, you wondered if Steven ever had the chance to do something like this as a child.

You knew his situation inside out; it had become an explanation for the days he disappeared without a trace, the bruises on his body, or the unanswered messages. So, it was impossible for you not to feel warmth in your chest when you saw him smile, attempting a very poor imitation of the Giza Pyramid with wet sand.

“I brought some residents.” A couple of Calico Critters figurines were in your hands, a handful that you offered to the guy beside you.

His eyes lit up.

“Did you collect these? They’re definitely your kind of trinket.” You nodded in response to his question, smiling with flushed cheeks. “Alright, this one will be the pharaoh.” He was so delicate when he took one of the teddy bears in your hands that a sigh escaped your lungs.

“These will be his servants.” You stacked the figurines around the construction, which seemed to have no particular sense. You even placed one in Steven’s makeshift water lake, which had somehow worked already. “Steven?”

“Huh?” The smile on his lips dazzled you as he looked up. His curls were more pronounced with the moisture from the beach, his cheeks flushed from the heat, and you had never seen someone whose eyes were complemented so well by the golden hour.

Those huge brown eyes that made your heart race, they usually stood out because of the dark circles underneath them, but today they seemed to shine like stars, even in the full light of day.

“Did you like the beach when you were a child?”

“I don’t know.” He was honest; his childhood was something very blurry for him. It wasn’t like that before, but Marc’s appearance had complicated something in his brain. Now he doubted which parts were true and which were not, so the most accurate thing to do was to admit that he didn’t know. “I had a dream about Layla a while ago, I know she went to the beach one day with Marc or something like that. Maybe I’ll ask him later if he used to like it, if he bothers to respond.”

“What do you mean?” Your fingers arranged another Calico Critter at the fake entrance of your sandcastle.

“They disappear when I ask questions. Both of them.” Steven began to fill his own bucket again, compacting the sand inside it every now and then with his small shovel. He had chosen the yellow one. “This morning they decided to ignore me.”

You simply nodded, already familiar with the tone of “I’m going to talk until I’m tired” in his voice.

“Can you believe it?” His hands flattened the sand where he planned to place the bucket. “I woke up feeling like I got beaten up, and I don’t doubt that it happened. It’s the second time this week, not to mention the mess in my apartment. That must be the mess number 118 since we apparently cleared things up.”

He wishes that he was dramatizing, but he has lost count of how many books he has lost in those messes and how many goldfish they try to replace as if Steven was a child who wouldn’t notice.

“I thought there would be no more lies between us, I thought we were working as a team.” He avoids your gaze as his chest tightens and his breathing becomes erratic; here comes the crying again. “But I’m not included anymore, I’ve realized that.”

Silently, you decide to lean your cheek against his shoulder. His skin feels as warm as it looks, and it’s pleasant, the warmth of both of you colliding comfortably.

“I feel like I’m walking blind. I don’t know at what point in my life I am, I don’t know what we have planned for the future, or if this is all I’ll have for the rest of my days.” His cheek rests against your hair, a way to let you know that he happily receives your touch. “I feel like I’m…”

“Trapped?” You complete with a sigh. Even his words come out as if someone is strangling him, choked, painful.

“Trapped.” He nods slowly, comforting himself by focusing on how his index finger draws fake windows on the sandcastle. “And you.”

“And me.”

“How can I ask you to be with me if I can’t even send you a coherent text message?” The pain in his chest is stronger than the shyness he would feel at any other time admitting his interest in you.

But the truth is, it’s already too obvious.

What Steven and you have is not easy to label. In fact, it’s impossible, but it would be foolish to pretend that there isn’t something you’ve both known for a long time.

You love each other. And you’re trying to do what’s best for each other.

That has always been enough for you.

“We are together, Steven.” Your head remains on his shoulder as you lean back slightly, enough to look at him with a faint smile. It would be stupid to pretend that you’re not worried about him and everything he just said, but it’s more important for you to clarify that your relationship doesn’t have to be part of all that emotional burden weighing on his shoulders for so long.

“Eh? B-But I…”

Your lips silence him, a very short and small kiss. Chaste and innocent, just like Steven himself, or like the feelings you share.

“We are together.” You confirm once again before going in for another kiss.

The rest of the day at the beach is as peaceful as the beginning. Together, you eat the pile of snacks you packed and even toast with two juice boxes, one apple and one orange.

You step on the sand mounds that used to form a castle together and, almost at the end, you sit on the shore to let the water tickle your feet. You also filled your little bucket with water several times to pour it on Steven, but that’s another story.

You saved the best part for last.

“Did you know that Dr. Seuss was a terrible person?”

“Steven, I didn’t bring it up so you could ruin a childhood experience for me.” You bite your lower lip to keep from laughing as you make room on the beach lounger that both of you claimed as your own as soon as you saw it.

You had to lie on your side so that both of you could fit without being cramped, even raising your leg over his and resting an arm on his chest.

You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his breath rising and falling against your arm slowly.

“One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish.” He says amidst a small laugh. This must be a trap of yours to hear him stumble over his own words in that adorable English accent that always makes you smile.

“A classic.” Your fingers wander over his abdomen, tickling him.

“Okay, okay. I’ll read it, leave me alone.” He finally gives in before clearing his throat.

The discussion was longer than the time it took for you to fall asleep. With your head resting on Steven’s chest and one of his arms around your shoulders as he held the book in front of both of your faces.

As soon as your breathing became heavier, he decided it was time to stop the torture of reading a rhyming book as someone who spoke so fast. So, he placed the book on his stomach and focused on holding you, feeling the beating of your heart against his body.

The sun began to set, and for the first time, Steven had time for himself and his thoughts.

He didn’t hate Marc. He didn’t hate Jake. How could he? They were two vital parts of him, and like him, they had a thousand things to carry. Maybe next time he would ask both of them how they feel or if they’re doing okay.

Sometimes he forgot that he could have these moments. Feeling light, carefree. He could take a break and forget about the rest of the world in your arms. Could they do that too?

With a sigh, he let go of all the heaviness he had been carrying in his body since he woke up that day. And he looked down.

The way you assured him you two were together was the next thing that crossed his mind. Was being trapped really that bad? The truth was, no. He liked his life, at least the part that belonged solely to him.

He liked being trapped in his small apartment with the things he loved the most. He liked being trapped in the noisy city that had embraced him since he arrived. He liked being trapped in his body with Marc and Jake, not being alone. He liked being trapped in your arms.

He just had to take the time to appreciate it more often.