#But half the time he just wants to play with my sweater

[23victoria]

christmas tree decorating

​​pairings: 𝓯1 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼!

word count: 1.1𝓴

authors note: 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂! 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST F1 CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST

Charles

You hand Charles the ornament box as All I Want for Christmas Is You blares through the speakers. He's humming terribly off-key, holding up a glittering red bauble with exaggerated care. "This one needs to go here," he declares, pointing high up.

"Charles, that's too close to the star!" you laugh, watching him balance on his tiptoes.

"But it will catch the light perfectly—trust me!" He grins, looking over his shoulder for validation.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes, but let him place it. When he steps back, he tilts his head like he's studying a masterpiece. "Mon dieu, we are artists!" he says dramatically, pulling you in for a twirl.

“Artists, huh? Looks more like glitter vomit,” you tease.

Laughing, he spins you into his arms and kisses you in front of the tree, the lights casting a soft glow around you both.

Max

“Max, you’re supposed to spread the tinsel out!” you say, hands on your hips.

He stands there, mid-toss, with a chunk of silver tinsel in his hands. “No, this way is better. More chaotic. It has personality.”

“Personality or laziness?”

“Both.” He shrugs with a smirk, chucking the tinsel at the tree like confetti. You pick up a snowflake ornament and hang it while he adjusts the fake snow, muttering about how it should look ‘real but not too real.’

When Oh Santa! starts playing, he twirls you unexpectedly, nearly knocking over the tree. “Max!”

“What?” he says, wide-eyed, before tugging you close. “We can’t argue under mistletoe rules.” He points to a stray sprig hanging nearby before capturing your lips with a quick, sweet kiss.

Carlos

Carlos has the Christmas playlist blasting, shimmying his hips as Baby it’s Cold Outside comes on. You laugh from the couch as he insists on dancing his way to the tree with every ornament he hangs. “Look at this move, eh? I’m like a Christmas ninja!” he says, throwing in a spin.

“You’re ridiculous,” you tease, but you can’t stop smiling.

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he counters smoothly, handing you a candy cane to hang.

When the tree is finally finished—gold ribbons, red baubles, and twinkling lights shining brightly—he steps back with a satisfied grin. “It’s perfect. Just like us.”

Before you can respond, he dips you dramatically and plants a kiss on your lips, the music swelling in the background.

Lewis

The two of you are in a competition—who can hang the ornaments faster. Lewis is half-dancing to This Christmas, carefully placing his baubles while keeping an eye on your progress.

“You know I’m winning, right?” he quips, hanging a sparkly silver one high up.

“Oh, please,” you reply, laughing as you toss some tinsel at him. “Speed doesn’t equal quality.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “Are you doubting my tree-decorating skills?”

You both step back once the last ornament is hung, admiring the colorful chaos of lights, baubles, and garlands. “I think we outdid ourselves,” he says, sliding his arms around your waist.

“We make a pretty good team,” you reply softly, and he kisses you under the glowing lights.

Lando

“Wait, wait!” Lando calls out as Jingle Bell Rock starts playing. “We have to time the star going on with the music drop!”

You burst out laughing as he scrambles to grab the star. “You’re such a nerd!”

“Shh, I’m setting the mood.” He climbs the step stool, balancing precariously while you hold your breath. “And… there!” he yells as the music hits, placing the star perfectly.

The two of you stand back, marveling at the tree. “We crushed it,” he says proudly, brushing fake snow off his sweater.

“You crushed it. I just supervised.”

Lando smirks, pulling you in for a quick kiss under the glow of the tree. “Best supervisor ever.”

Oscar

Oscar carefully unwraps each ornament like it's a fragile piece of treasure. It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmasplays softly in the background as he hands you a snowman ornament. "This one should go in the middle," he suggests, his voice thoughtful.

"Are you sure you don’t want to measure it first?" you tease, hanging it where he pointed.

He chuckles, lightly bumping your shoulder. "Hey, someone has to take this seriously. Look at this tree—it’s a masterpiece in progress."

You step back, admiring the perfectly spaced ornaments and ribbons. “You’re way too meticulous for this.”

“Well, someone’s gotta balance out your chaos,” he quips with a grin.

Once the star is in place, Oscar wraps an arm around your waist, his cheeks slightly flushed as he looks at the tree. “It’s kinda perfect, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, turning toward him just as he kisses you softly. “But only because of you.”

Sebastian

Sebastian is determined to make this a sustainable Christmas, so he insisted on a real tree from a local farm and eco-friendly ornaments. Last Christmas by Wham! plays quietly as he carefully hangs a wooden reindeer. “This one was carved by kids from the market,” he says proudly.

You laugh, holding up an ornament shaped like a pinecone. “And this one’s…from our garden?”

“Exactly!” He smiles, leaning over to adjust the tree skirt. “Nature’s decorations are always better.”

It’s a slower process with Seb, but every step feels meaningful. You help him string up the soft white lights, both of you smiling at how cozy the room feels.

When the tree is finally done, Seb turns to you with a gentle smile. “You know, I think this might be the best one we’ve ever done.”

“Probably because you picked everything,” you joke, but before you can say more, he pulls you close and kisses you softly under the tree, the moment as warm as the glow around you.

Jenson

Jenson insisted on turning decorating the tree into a full event—Christmas music, hot chocolate, and a ridiculous Santa hat perched on his head. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree blasts through the speakers as he hands you ornaments.

“This is so crooked,” you mutter, trying to fix the garland he strung unevenly.

“It’s called artistic asymmetry, darling,” he says, draping his arm around your shoulders.

You roll your eyes, shoving a candy cane into his hand. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky, or irresistible?” He winks, and you can’t help but laugh.

By the time you finish, the tree is a blend of sentimental ornaments, flashing lights, and just enough chaos to feel cozy. “I think we nailed it,” Jenson says, stepping back with his arm slung around your waist.

“Mostly me,” you tease, leaning into him.

“Well, then I guess you deserve a reward,” he murmurs, pulling you into a deep kiss while the tree glows behind you.

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽! ❥☽ @ham1lton @ietss @animeandf1lover @nelly187 @heartsfromtaeyong @bloodyymaryyy @nor-4 @zacian117 @mel164 @uhhvictoria @hadidsworld @zabwlky1999 @sya-skies @lillysbigwilly @avengers-assemble123456 @santanasaintmendes @km-23mr @hookhausenschips @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ronpho @minekarina @aeongism @Formula1-motogpfa @slagclarens @aleexvqa @f1updates4you @booksandflowrs @chaostudee @winkev1 @strawblueberrys @blakesbearblog @cel-b @perfumejamal @aykxz98 @pandora-08 @teti-menchon0604 @bxtosa @fadingcloudballoon-blog @whatevenisthisxxxxx @anamiad00msday @luula @jimcarreyfann42 @oliviah-25 @bbwzrld @goldenroutledge @unkownmystery_22 @sophienorris18-blog @flowerpetalk @paucubarsisimp @its-elias-world @magixpracticality @poppyflower-22 @pear-1206

[poptimus-prime]

Nightshade (my cat) is a little fucking bastard who bites my asscheek and tries to tear my sweater to shreds so obviously this means that I need to make him into a Beastformer bc he has a very Big Personality.

[karinasbaby]

yang jungwon — love me.

P. fem!reader x bf!jungwon (17+) | W. unprotected sex, jungwon is needy & whiny, kissing, cursing, biting, creampie, mentions of a handjob, breast play, marking, dacryphilia, biting, cockwarming, getting fucked into subspace, pussy slapping, petnames, desperate jungwon & other things i forgot | WC. 3.3k | A,N. wrote this while listening to lights on by normani so i felt n a s t y, anyways this was a request! thank u for requesting <3

in which.. jungwon gets a boner mid cuddling session.

hot.

that's the only word running in jungwon's head. well along with needy.

hot. he felt so fucking hot. and so ridiculously needy.

he felt every nerve ending in his body blazing with heat that's almost borderline painful. fingers twitching to grasp or hold onto something that will ground him before he lost his sanity. his breathing gradually becoming more irregular. the seconds he was counting in his head to get his breathing under control slowly became unusually prolonged before being forgotten completely.

all the blood that should've been pumping in his head to keep his logical side working rushed down his entire body to accumulate in his pulsing cock. he was so fucking hard right now.

and it made him feel so guilty. there was absolutely no reason for him to feel like a dog in heat when literally nothing has happened. the urge to just fuck something almost making him spiral when you're just laying besides him, curled on yourself with your back against jungwon, you're just there.

sure it could've been the way he's been pressing his hips against the curve of your ass, or it could've been the way you were too sleepy and tired to push his cold, veiny hand away when it sneaked under your sweater to cup your breast— fuck. he basically brought this onto himself.

but how could he not practically glue himself against you? you felt so warm. so nice. so cuddly. he loved you so much. needed you so close to him at all times possible. if he could he would genuinely bury himself inside of you. the attempts of him pushing himself down your sweater and poking his head out of your neckline just to kiss you for hours to remain close were nothing.

his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you as close as possible weren't doing it for him. nor was the way his nose was nuzzled into the back of your neck— nothing at the moment could satisfy him.

and he wanted more. needed more. craved so so much more so fucking badly. he felt like if he wasn't inside of you in the next five seconds he might as well explode.

but at the same time how could he? not when you complained about how tiring your day was. not when you already felt fatigued enough to basically melt in his arms when he suggested a cuddling session, fuck and he was the one to suggest it, what was he thinking?

none of that mattered anymore. not when you were on the brink of drifting onto a deep sleep. teetering on the edge of remaining conscious completely. soft, almost unnoticeable whimpers leaving your mouth when you felt so comfortable. so satisfied and comforted in the arms of your lover, clad in his hoodie after a stressful day.

completely unaware of the dilemma jungwon was going through right behind you, unaware of the fact that he was a mere few seconds away from ripping his hair out of his scalp.

well that was until you heard him whimper.

fuck if only he remained stoic. maybe he wouldn't have nudged his raging boner against your ass. the simple friction making the noise leave his throat before he could even process it or try to swallow it down. and you for sure heard him.

he could just play it off, breathing in deeply and ignoring the way his arms unconsciously tightened around you, he tried to speak— “won, are you okay?” shit.

“yeah! i'm fine just— a cramp. yeah i just got a cramp in my leg.” chuckling next to your ear he 'played it off’, trying to not catch your attention further with the way he moved his hips further away from yours. pushing his lower half away from your body in hopes of saving himself from the embarrassment and humiliation of getting hard from cuddling.

“are you sure, baby?” you questioned, clearly not buying his lame excuse. i mean come on, you knew him better than anyone there was no way a simple cramp in the leg would make yang jungwon, your unreasonably strong boyfriend whimper. not when he's suffered through an entire sore body after a long fucking session with you that lasted an entire night (and morning) and didn't even complain one bit.

a cramp in the leg? had him whimpering like a whiny boy behind you?

“yeah, doll. don't worry about it— fuck!” him blabbering on to defend himself somehow backfired instantly as you suddenly pushed your ass against him, his clothed cock coming in contact with the curve of your ass once again making him almost see stars. he cursed under his breath even more when you wiggled your hips against his. making his hardened length twitch uncontrollably in his boxers.

“you're a terrible liar.” you reached behind you, cold fingers sneaking under his shirt this time, tracing the back of your fingers against his chiseled abs. the action making him gasp in sensitivity. closing his eyes, jungwon's arms went limp around you. after neglecting his own needs for hours now he felt like his body was betraying him from the smallest sensual touch from you.

your hand then moved downwards, toying with the hem of his sweatpants, then they went lower. to palm his dick through the two thick articles of clothing. the sensation making your boyfriend behind you gulp. his eyes closing unknowingly as his hips jerked forward into your touch. “touch me, doll. please.” he breathed shakily into your ear before biting the shell of it needily.

you then pushed your hand below his sweatpants, hand squeezing around his throbbing cock to relief him quickly, you could feel the dampening spot of his precum right under your palm while jungwon nuzzled his face closer into the back of your neck. eyes closed and breathing heavy as he felt his body becoming lit ablaze with heat.

“right here, princess.” he moved his shaking hand towards your own, bringing yours inside of his boxers to finally feel your cold fingers around his raging dick. pulsing warm precum that webbed between your fingers while you squeezed and stroked him. “like this baby?” turning your head towards him to whisper the words which had him groaning your name against your skin.

it was so fun to see him so needy like this. so desperate and so turned on. you could tell there was not a singular coherent thought in his mind other than his hard cock and how wet your pretty pussy must be by now. the urge to fuck you against the mattress of your bed building up inside him further. he needed you so bad.

and though you were teasing him by brushing your fingers against his sensitive tip harshly, or with the way your hands suddenly tightened around his length before loosening, you were no different from him. but you pushed the feeling of the pooling wetness in your sticky panties to the back of your head. ignoring your need for the time being just to rile up your cute boyfriend further.

jungwon who usually was in control, so collected and loving in heated moments was whimpering behind you as you palmed his weeping cock. you weren't going to let go of this opportunity so quickly.

“feels good, baby?” you whispered, pressing your ass further against the base of his cock while your hand stroked his tip. the sensation of your movements had jungwon's eyes rolling to the back of his head. nodding along dumbly to your words as his hips jerked more into your hand.

he felt the way his climax was building up in his abdomen, the feeling making his eyebrows furrow in complete pleasure before he tried to desperately push your hand away with his own weak one. not wanting to cum if it wasn't deep inside of you.

“fuck— doll, i'm close. so close. i need to be inside of you right now.” he breathed heavily, his rough voice in making the barrier of your thoughts and need disappear almost instantly. the heat in your core and throbbing of your clit suddenly seemed so overwhelming. you wanted and needed him just as badly as he did you.

with a simple and quick nod from you, jungwon's hands quickly removed both of your clothes, pushing his sweatpants along with his boxers down his legs before discarding them carelessly onto the floor then deciding to move towards your own sleeping shorts, hooking his finger under the hem after lifting himself up to litter kisses down your neck.

once he dragged your shorts and panties down, his arms moved towards your hoodie (that was his), thankful that he decided to stay shirtless today. lifting his hoodie from your body to continue his descent of kisses down your shoulders and stomach.

on usual days, jungwon would take his time to scissor you open with his fingers deep inside of your cunt and his lips wrapped around your clit for hours. but today—he couldn't do that. not when he felt his cock twitching against his abs and the leak of precum reaching his thighs.

he needed to be buried so deep inside of you this instant.

quickly laying down behind you, his arm sneaked under you to toy with your hardened nipple while the other gently lifted your leg open, pushing his hips against yours to finally allow his rock hard cock to push against your wet folds. the feeling of his tip poking against your sopping entrance had the two of your groaning in complete euphoria.

“yeah, baby? feels good?” and there he was. your teasing boyfriend who would go to extreme, unfathomable lengths just to see you begging for his touch, in tears because of his pleasure and your mind reeling because of his actions.

and who were you to deny him of any of this? not when he has you wrapped around his finger, not when he has your body twitching in sensitivity and need right under him.

“so good. so so good. please, baby. i need you so bad.” you begged him just how he likes it. voice desperate and shaky the way you knew had him losing his mind. and he fell right under your spell when he kept thrusting his hips to allow his cock to brush against your wetness.

letting the squelching sounds of your arousals combine with your needy moans. whimpers and whispers of his name fell past your lips, your hand wrapping around his own that cupped your breast, his index finger brushing against your nipple every now and then just to make you twitch in his embrace.

you were growing so desperate under his continuous teasing. his torture that made you crave him more, and right when he began to bite along your shoulder harshly you broke. tears aligning your waterline while shaky begs and mewls escaped your throat.

not able to take it anymore. you needed him so bad. your hunger for him to be so near, so close and so deep in you in every way possible increased by the second. yearning for him to be as snug and connected to you as humanly possible.

and jungwon's resolve finally dissipated, he kissed your jaw one long, tender kiss before he angled his hips against yours, letting your walls welcome him as he pushed his cock slowly inside of you.

and gosh he was so big. no matter how many times he had fucked you, his dick always had you in awe of just how perfectly thick and long it was. his raw length stretching you out so nicely. the burn between your walls felt so delicious to you as you mewled his name loudly.

his breathes altered between needy gasps and shaky groans of your name. your tightness always making him feel on edge, if he could fill you up right now he totally would. but he couldn't ruin your experience like this. not when he was so used to making you cum atleast once before even thinking of emptying his load inside of you.

jungwon knew that you were unbelievably close already. with the way your walls were practically sucking him in so tightly. the way your chest heaved in breaths heavily, his finger tips brushing against your chest and ribs whenever you inhaled in too deeply just to control yourself. yet none of it was working. not when your boyfriend began to thrust himself in so slowly and deeply. allowing you to feel every single vein aligning his cock.

being the tease he is, he decided to push you even further towards the edge. his hand that fondled with your tit now moved down, brushing against your stomach and hip sensually before it settled between your legs, jungwon then suddenly picked up the pace. pressing his palm against your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock so deep inside of you.

the feeling of him so close, so deeply connected to you had both of your minds reeling. slowly losing touch with reality as the only thing your brain processed was how close jungwon was to you. both emotionally and physically. he nudged your head with his own, making you turn your face towards him and letting him press his lips against yours.

the two of you now breathing each other's air. so intimately close. drowning in the other's presence and pleasure. sinking further into the euphoria that only the two of you could provide one another. “right there— oh my god.” you whispered against his lips when his middle and ring finger lowered to rub against your pulsing clit.

“fuck— jungwon..” you whimpered his name so sweetly, grinding your hips against his when he began to roll his length inside of you so deliciously, barely pulling two inches out before pressing himself deep into your welcoming cunt again. allowing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with every thrust. "so good, doll. doing so good for me." his lips brushed against yours with every word.

skin on skin, sweat rolling down between both of your bodies as you connected and pleasured each other so sensually. your bodies becoming one, moving in sync with the purpose of chasing your high desperately. jungwon's tongue brushed against your cheek, licking up the tears you didn't even notice rolled down your eyes as your head was getting foggy with the mind numbing sensation of the tightening coil in your abdomen.

right on the brink of your orgasm with the way jungwon began to slowly pick up the pace, his fingers restless as they abused your clit. pushing you further and further on edge just so you can fall and he can capture you.

“i'm s-so close.” you sobbed against his mouth, eyes closing as the ecstasy just kept on building up and up and up. jungwon nodded to encourage you to cum, to finally unravel in his arms so he can please you more.

“yeah, baby? gonna cum for me?” breathing out heavily, his lips littering wet kisses around your jaw, he mindlessly kissed and sucked along your skin. leaving marks he couldn't even put a name on as he slowly ascended into complete intoxication on you.

minds disoriented, bodies on fire as your hearts beat in sync to chase relief. “gonna cream around my cock like a good girl, doll?”he smiled against your skin, moving his lips towards yours to quieten your sobs as you began to teeter on the edge, completely helpless as jungwon's fingers remained circling your clit, hips still pistoning against yours as the soaking wet sounds of your arousal echoed in the room.

a mix of your wetness combined with his settled in your inner thighs, making the noises sound all the more nasty as his balls smacked loudly against your entrance with every thrust. the pressure building up in your abdomen increasing intensely. in a pace you couldn't even process it but jungwon noticed of course, with the incessant tightening of your walls he quickly kissed you. shushing your sobs as he pressed himself so deep into you.

“go ahead, angel. make a mess for me.” those were the last words you heard before your ears began to ring. your body jerking and shaking between jungwon's arms as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hand that was rubbing against your clit switched to landing slaps against your wet pussy. the sensations of his tip pressed against cervix, the slaps sending jolts of electricity throughout your body while he continued to bite on your lower lip were so fucking overwhelming.

he was everywhere. you felt him everywhere, taking over your body, your soul, your mind and senses all at the same time. driving you into absolute insanity as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to push him away, slowly beginning to feel the dizzying pleasure of being intoxicated. completely high on elation and pleasure.

“j-jungwon— p-please stop-”you stuttered against him, eyes rolling into the back of your head when jungwon only kept increasing his pace, seemingly chasing his own high now. desperation evident in all of his movements as he started to act and move on pure instinct. dazed and completely out of it as he wanted nothing more than the tight coil in his abdomen to snap. his climax to finally wash over him and for him to fill you up with his seed entirely.

“i can't— fuck. i need to fill you up so badly, doll. i need you.” he whimpered against your neck, thrusts turning sloppy and uncoordinated as his cock twitched uncontrollably in your wet walls that milked and sucked him for all his worth. your fingers tightened around the sheets as you felt intense waves of pleasure cascade down your body, unable to differentiate in whether you're cumming again or you're being overstimulated. everything felt so good. everything felt too good. too overwhelming.

broken sobs and choked whispers of his name were all what your throat could produce right now. being fucked into a subspace that made you felt like you were floating and drifting through cloud nine. you felt so unbelievably good with the way jungwon kept his tip pressed so harshly against your bruised cervix, goosebumps aligning your skin as you finally felt jungwon reach the edge of his pleasure before diving in.

a broken chain of fuckfuckfuck made its way past the echoing sound of your heartbeat in your ear. you could process the way he filled you up so well. painting your walls white with his warm load, keeping himself pressed so close to you as his shaky hands tried to keep your twitching leg open, both of you reaching such an unbelievable level of delirium that left your heads aching in pleasure.

jungwon's swollen lips returned to pressing against your shoulder, his hand gently and carefully lowering your leg before wrapping around your waist. he looked over at you, taking in the heavenly sight of your fucked out expression. a sheen layer of sweat making you glow so brightly in his eyes.

his body was so fatigued after reaching the peak of his euphoria, the pleasure and satisfaction running through both of your veins as you laid in each other's embrace to catch your breaths. your eyes remained closed, still feeling the throbbing of his cock inside of you that made you moan his name out breathlessly.

“you alright, doll?” he chuckled softly, hand lifting up to tenderly caress your cheek, cooing when you moved your face closer to his touch, “mhm” you quietly hummed in reassurance, the waves of slumber descending down onto your quickly as you held him close to you.

your boyfriend quickly shifted your positions, turning you around gently after pulling out, he smiled endearingly when you whined at the loss of his length in you, quickly peppering you with kisses as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck just how he knew you liked it. he swiftly pushed himself back inside of you, holding you close when you murmured in satisfaction and content again, eyes shut tightly as you began to slowly drift off to a deep sleep.

“sleep well, doll.” with one final kiss to your head, you both fell into a much needed sleep.

a,note. reposted cuz i love nia ♡ + this wasn’t proofread !

[lovebugism]

how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy

a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 

Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 

Speaking of sweet…

His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.

Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.

He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.

“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.

Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”

“Did you sleep good?” 

“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”

“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”

Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”

Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”

“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”

He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”

“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”

“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“What’d I do?”

“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”

“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”

You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.

The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”

Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”

Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”

“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”

“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.

“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”

Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.

“You’re welcome…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.

“It’s different!”

The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.

“That’s not true!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”

“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.

“Eddie,” you scold quietly.

The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.

“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”

Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 

“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”

“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”

You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.

“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.

You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”

“Eddie.”

[notsoverymerry]

Boyfriend (j.yh x reader)

<jeong yunho x fem!reader>

summary: You can't believe you're dating Yunho. Others can't either.

genre/warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please use protection!), fluff, use of pet-names a/n: let me know literally anything about this :) word count ~3.6k

You were dating Jeong Yunho; you really were. 

You went on dates, held hands, kissed, and said the cheesiest, most sweetest, tooth-rotting things to each other. All the time. And yet, none of the boys had caught up. By some mysterious miracle or rather an ominous curse, guys and the staff have considered you two to be just really good friends. You could've screamed love proclamations at each other from mountaintops, and nobody would take that seriously. His habit of calling you his little bro, or some variation of that, as a pet name did not help in the slightest.

At first, it was funny. Just at the beginning of your relationship, when you intended to keep your fondness away from prying eyes and wanted to enjoy exploring each other in this new, intimate side of things, having people consider you pals was great. You can recall Seonghwa making a few remarks about how cute you would look together, but it was dismissed rather quickly. The first time it happened, you totally saw Yunho's ears go red, him stammering out something about friendships and trust and members making you uncomfortable. 

At the end of your third date, you were sure you wanted this man next to you for life. He took you to the aquarium. It was a cliché, but it's something you have always dreamed of. You love animals, love to learn new things, and you think you love Jeong Yunho. He looked dashing in just a pair of blue jeans and a white sweater; your heart definitely skipped a beat when he smiled, hands reaching to greet you in a short embrace. It skipped a beat again when you heard him laugh lightly at some joke you made. And again, when his hand brushed against yours as you walked to your destination. Stepping into a room with tiny fish specimens showcased in various tanks, blue lights now illuminated his frame and those round sparkling eyes. Your heart doesn't seem to work correctly. 

Few hours went flying. You took pictures. Half of them when he wasn't paying attention. You told him he looks like the prettiest starfish they have and didn't miss his cheeks darkening with blush even in the dim lights. Not too long had passed before you started to point out funky ones to each other, exclaiming, 'You!' and laughing. After a particularly accurate comparison of you to a dwarf puffer ('Dwarf puffers are aggressive, sensitive, and active' the sign read), he reached and intertwined your fingers, not a single hint of trying to hurt you with that juxtaposition, his eyes full of adoration, a huge smile on his face. You could have just kissed him.

He insisted on ice cream later in the evening. You were just heading out the shop when you bumped into Mingi. Faces red but happy, Yunho's arm hugging you to his side, a small bag of sweet treats in his hand. It took a second for Song Mingi to take the sight in. And another second for him to smile and greet you, to ask how's it going and where you're going to go.

''Oh, my girlfriend and I are just going to relax somewhere in the park nearby.''

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. Girlfriend. You can definitely get used to being called his girlfriend. And then it happened. Cue Mingi's cluelessness, or the fact that he's just tired from their hectic schedules. 

''Man, it's great that you can be so close with each other and aren't afraid someone will mistake you for a couple. If you could act a bit better, maybe you'd even get a discount sometime!'' With that, he was gone. 

There was a little tradition your small company liked to keep. Board games. 

Every once in a while, when everyone wasn't busy, you'd spend an evening playing, talking, lightly drinking, and overall just relaxing. Adult life could take a really boring turn, the one that only had 'road work ahead, and so should you' sign. Bills, taxes, colleagues being stressed and mean, and yada-yada. Idol life was probably even worse. 

There was some catching up due, and this Saturday night seemed just the perfect opportunity. The lot of you chose a game, lo-fi music was put on for background, and the living room area was cleaned so up to ten people could comfortably sit in a circle. Drinks were cold and ready to be handed out. 

You took a seat in between your beloved Yuyu and Yeosang, a dear friend of yours who got you in the group. You'd expect him to know your heart of all people. Although when you told him about your new boyfriend, all he did was laugh and say that was a good one. 

Bewilderment washed over you in a tidal wave. It showed up on your face, swimming behind your eyes and overflowing in a strangled sound from your lips. And you, Yeosang? With your confused and hurt whimper, the topic was brought to everyone's attention. 

''Did you guys know y/n likes Yunho?'' Maybe it was the alcohol, but you heard more laughter. 

''Oh? But y/n likes all of us, don't you?''

''Well, yes, but—'' you were not going to finish that sentence. He heard what he wanted.

''See?'' Wooyoung looked so smug; if your brain wasn't so busy being confused, you'd be infuriated. Right now you looked like there was a loading circle turning in your head. Hopefully you won't bluescreen. 

''Are you guys pulling my leg?''

''Are you? Seriously, you and Yunho.'' There came a playful nudge to your side. 

You wanted to protest, to ask your boyfriend to back you up, but turning to him, you saw his eyes creased by a smile. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to say that it's fine and they will catch up to it eventually. He knew it was going to take them a while. And with his hand lightly caressing your back, your anger dissipated, replaced by a warm feeling inside your chest. Was it always so hot in here?

''Just relax, little pal. I got you.''

A while has passed before you decided to be openly affectionate, at least around those closest to you. 

It was a day off for the both of you. You planned on going out, but upon seeing your boyfriend's tired eyes, you opted to offer a quiet night in. Weather seemed to agree with that, given that it started raining against the broadcast's best predictions. 

You were met with Hongjoong, who opened the door and let you in. When you entered their living room, you saw Yunho, still in sweatpants and a big shirt, holding a steaming mug. 

''Hey.'' He said, ''Isn't it my favorite little dude!''

''Hello, honey.''

The warmth in your voices could melt the arctic icebergs. You took a few moments just to look at each other, gentle smiles tugging at the corners of your mouths. 

''Oh, hey, bro! I'm also in the room, where's my sweet greeting?''

It was San, a pout already present on his sleepy face. 

''You'd get it when you have a girlfriend.''

The day was spent in the comfort of their couch, with soft cushions and comforters draped around. None of you cared for the cancelled plans, not really, when all you ever wanted was to be in each other's presence. That was enough. Several movies were watched, hot tea keeping the cozy atmosphere company. You were cuddled with Yunho, feeling warm and giddy. That's when Seonghwa made another comment about how cute the two of you were. 

''But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, y/n. Don't take this close to heart. We know there's nothing romantic going on.''

It was as though they were doing it on purpose.

''It's okay, Seonghwa; we are together. Like, I love him and all that.''

Your voice was steady, your face was serious, and yet…

''Of course you are,'' San almost scoffed. ''But that behavior is exactly why you can't get a date these days. People see Yunho and don't dare approach you.''

A light chuckle could be heard from the room; Yunho also couldn't contain his. The more blunt you were at stating your relationship status, the more oblivious band members became. 

''Little broski is saying she doesn't need a date. She has me. Right, darling?''

Yunho was being honest. You nod at him, darting your eyes back at your friends in hopes of seeing the realization there. Yet, his playful tone and charming smile did nothing to convince the others. It's not like you've been actively trying to make them believe you were an item. Though now it seemed to irritate you a bit. Was it really that hard to imagine you and Jeong Yunho together? Were you not good enough in their eyes? Or was it his habit of calling you bro? You never knew. 

''Why is it so hard for you to believe we're dating, though?''

You voiced your thoughts, needing to know the answer now.

''Y/n, love… You'd date a reputable scam artist before Yunho; we know that much. You'd probably even date Hongjoong first if-''

''I can hear that!''

That was the captain's answer from the kitchen.

''A reputable scam artist?''

That was your confused reply. What does that even mean?

''And what is so wrong with dating me? I'm handsome, I'm charming, and so, so funny! A real treat. I could also be a scam artist if I really wanted to.''

A strangled sound tore from your chest.

''See? That's a laugh.''

There was another. He was not at all interested in proving them wrong.

You couldn't believe your luck when you showed up at the dorms a week later and no one was there. 

Yunho had called you, asking you to come in, some mischevous spark laced in his tone. It turns out, the boys had work, and those who didn't decided on spending the day outside. There was undoubtedly a need for shopping for essential items, as well as just a bit of fresh air and relaxation for those workaholics. Well deserved. Yunho needed it too. So when he asked if you could just cuddle him a bit and maybe cook something easy later, you couldn't find it in yourself to deny this request.

His bed? Soft. His body? Warm. Hands? Big and strong and held you against him perfectly. You were happy. You basked in the feeling of his chest pressed against your back, like puzzle pieces, you thought. You traced the veins on his arms, switching to play with his fingers from time to time. This feels nice. This feels so right. How could his members not see this? You were practically made for each other. You decided to bring it up.

''Why do you think our friends don't take us seriously?''

He let out an amused hum, his breath fanning over your neck. 

''I dunno. Maybe they all want you, just can't take the fact I already hogged you for myself.''

He hugged you tighter. In all honesty, that was distracting. How could you think about other guys, about anything else, really, when your big and strong boyfriend held you so tenderly against himself? The thought of him wanting you and caring for you as much as you did for him should melt your heart. Instead, with the way his fingers played with your shirt, caressing your skin where it had rode up, it sent hot waves someplace else. Were you cruel enough to ruin this perfect cuddle session with your dirty thoughts? 

''You're here, love?'' His hand went up to cradle your face. 

Turning to him, you couldn't avoid looking at his lips. So pink and soft. You know just how nice they feel against yours. Your eyes had darkened already, the feelings you had for this man had your head all dizzy. Without much thinking, you moved forward, connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. You felt his breath hitch. A tiny sound tried to escape his throat, but your mouth didn't let it. His hands moved to your waist again, holding you even closer.

You put your hands in his hair. You just couldn't resist massaging his scalp and tugging gently, soft locks slipping through your fingers. And god were you rewarded with another sound from him, right into your lips, chest reverberating against yours. He stopped kissing you; for a moment he just needed to look at your face. Rose hue on your cheeks and blown eyes — no doubt he looked the same. 

''I see,'' he chucled. Hands roaming your body, skimming your sides. ''You're so amazing. I can't get enough of you, my little bro.''

There it was again. The way he said it was ethereal. His voice so soft and perfectly low, his eyes dark and full of adoration. But it was the bro part that got your mind out of the gutter. Only for a moment, though.

''I want to make love to you so badly,'' you started. He sucked in a breath. His eyes fixated on your face, jumping over to your lips for a second. ''But please, stop with the bro thing. You can put that mouth to better use.''

''I'll be good,'' is his promise. 

With that, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time pressing into you harder, needier. You couldn't control yourself any longer, too. With a soft moan, he moved even closer, almost getting on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. And it feels, oh, so good. You bite on his lower lip carefully, anything to hear his beautiful sounds again. You let him take the lead, tongue gliding over yours. He moans at the taste. 

Tongue keeps rooling over yours; he lets his hands slide under your shirt. He kneads your breasts, then moves his hands over to grab at your hips and thighs, and back under your shirt again. You feel on fire. You want him to touch you everywhere at once; you want to touch him even more. You're the first to give in, reaching to help him take his t-shirt off. 

He's gorgeous. Hair a bit messy, lips glossy and red from the kiss. He pants a little, and you reach to glide your hand over his abs and chest, circling over his nipple. You can hear a tiny pleased sound leaving him, but it's not enough. He reattaches himself to you right away, mouth finding your neck. He kisses, bites, and licks at your most sensitive spots. You take him back gladly, hugging him close and moving your hips to meet his. He seems eager to do the same, another perfect sound leaves his lips. It's a groan, and it's right into your ear, and it makes your head spin. 

''God, you feel amazing.'' He breathes out, and you can't take it anymore. You want him, you need him with you, on you, in you. Your clothes get swiftly discarded, that eagerness earning you a quiet snicker. You don't care; your brain is in a fog, Yunho is the only thing on your mind.

''Please, touch me.'' you ask, settled in his sheets and looking up in his eyes, dark pools filled with lust to the brim. 

He obliges, positioning himself at your side. ''How do you want it, baby?'' He asks, but his hands are already on you. He groups your breasts once more, bringing his mouth to suck at your neck, moving down until he can lick your nipple. He plays with you as he pleases, kneading your skin and ghosting over the area where you want him the most. ''Please,'' you whine. 

''What? Isn't it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?''

He moves his hand to massage your thighs so close to your hot core, playing with your inner thighs, pinching slightly. You start to buck your hips involuntarily. Oh, but then he moves it over your belly to your nipples again. You tug at his hands and whine again. With more and more whimpering coming from you, he surrenders. 

Long fingers find your sticky folds to roll through them. The sound you let out makes his dick twitch in his underwear. When he finally pays attention to your clit, you feel exstatic. You look at him, at his concentrated face as he plays with you. You're lost in this feeling, lost in him. His fingers enter you suddenly, and you try to say something, but no real words come out. All you can think of is how good he feels inside of you. Your fingers can never do what his long ones can. They strech you a bit, just enough to feel this sweet pressure and leave you wanting more. Just enough to reach that gummy spot there that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. 

''You look so good like this, fuck.'' He praises. His voice brings you back to reality. ''So fucked out already, and I barely even done anything.'' 

You want to protest, to say that you are not fucked out yet, but the way your walls clench around his fingers is a dead giveaway. You are losing your mind a little. Can he really blame you, though, when he's the one pressing on that spot inside of you, so, so well. You can't really say anything, the only sounds escaping are your moans. Yunho thinks your voice sounds like honey, so sweet and thick with arousal. He bucks his hips against you, breathing deeply.

You reach for his cock, still trapped in his sweats and boxers. Suddenly, the fabric is just so frustrating. He lets out an airy laugh at your feeble attempt at touching him, taking his fingers out. You mewl at sudden loss pathetically. 

''What's wrong, love? Do you miss me already?''

He leaves your side not even for a minute, but it feels like forever. With a teasing grin, he discards the rest of his clothing and finally climbs back to bed, now on top of you. It's great. He's big and pinning you down and pressing to you just right. 

You want him inside, so you try to shift a little, make it more comfortable for him to finally fuck you, but he doesn't budge. The look you're giving his way is comical. You're flushed and needy, and there's that throbber almost visible on your forehead again. Your boyfriend doesn't give you time to ask, diving into another heated kiss with you. Your moan is bordering on a sob when he opts to fuck your mouth with his tongue instead of fucking you like you desperately need him to. 

When at last he's lining his cock up with your slit, you think you're actually going to cry. He's so hard and so big, the stretch feels euphoric. Pleasure overtakes and your eyes flutter shut as he slowly bottoms out. 

''Keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby.'' 

His words come out in a mix of a moan and a growl. You swear you could come just listening to him, hand-free and all that. You open your eyes, and the sight is breathtaking. He moves inside of you, your walls feel hot and tight and like the most expensive velvet. You can see all of that in his eyes. He feels so good, and you're the one making him hiss and groan in pleasure, his mouth forming the perfect O's and stuttering muddled praises. God, you love him.

You can't keep thinking about it for much longer. The pace he's set becomes a bit faster and sloppier, and he reaches his hand in between your bodies to put pressure on your clit. With it comes his strangled warning, '' 'm close, honey.'' And you can feel it, too. His dick hits that spot in you just right, and with your clit stimulated, the familiar feeling is building in your stomach faster and faster. ''Me too,'' your eyes close without you realizing it, and with a cry of his name, you come all over his cock. A string of curses follows, and you feel him twitch, hips stilling, and warm liquid fills you up. 

You take a minute to come down to earth again, and so does he. Leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek, he rolls over beside you, still panting a little. 

''Fuck. My baby, you did so well.'' 

You're not sure how it is possible to feel so giddy and syrupy after being so unbelievably horny just a second ago. Guess he has that effect on you.

''It was amazing, Yuyu. I love you, so much.''

''I love you too.''

He drapes his blanket over the both of you, snuggling closer, stroking your hair with your head on his chest. You want to say more cheesy things to him. Just as you open your mouth, though, there's a knock on the door, and Mingi's figure pops in, hand covering his eyes.

''Are you guys done? Please tell me you're decent; I do not want to see y/n's boobs or worse!'' 

You yelp, tugging the covers to your chin. Both Yunho and you decide to speak.

''We're decent.'' 

''When did you come back?!''

''Just in time to hear the closing credits.''

Mingi is now taking in the scene. Clothes scattered on the floor, Yunho's disheveled look, you trying to hide in the blanket. Lovely.

''I am traumatized, by the way.''

''What's that supposed to mean?''

''We brought beef, by the way. Wanna join us in the kitchen?''

You're lost. You don't know if you should feel embarrassed or offended. Mingi doesn't bat an eye at your barely covered form. At least that's what it feels like.

''Let us maybe get dressed first?'' Yunho chimes in, hugging you to him to try and cover himself a bit too. 

Mingi leaves, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You start to shift a bit when the door gets burst open once again, followed by, ''Wait, so you are actually dating?!''

[cruel-seduction]

Theodore Nott Headcanons

Warning: This piece contains themes of possessiveness, obsessive behavior, and dark romance undertones. Theodore’s devotion might be overwhelming, intense, and not suited for everyone’s taste. Reader discretion is advised.

(+ Requests are open so if you wanna request something, go ahead)

mdni 18+

Theodore Nott 

6’4 | He’s taller than Mattheo, and yes, he lords it over him (quietly, of course, because Theo is above petty behavior… unless it’s funny).

Lean, but don’t be fooled—this man is cut. He’s that deadly kind of fit where you don’t notice at first because he’s always wearing loose sweaters and looking like a poetry major. But the second the sleeves roll up? Oh. My. God. Veins for DAYS, hands strong enough to snap a wand in half (or your will to argue).

He doesn’t work out. Like, ever. He’s just naturally like this. Probably from lugging around all those dark magic books and the emotional weight of his trauma (we love a man with issues!).

(He could choke you with one hand while quoting Dante and your ghost would thank him. RESPECTFULLY!)

Has that sleepy, “don’t bother me, I’m too cool for this” kind of vibe. Until he’s pissed, and suddenly it’s quiet rage central. A single glare from him could silence an entire Great Hall—and probably has.

His abs? Unfair. They’re there, but in the casual, effortless way that makes you want to cry because why do they look that good without trying? If you’re lucky enough to see him shirtless (bless your soul), you’ll be rethinking your life decisions.

Quidditch player energy without ever actually playing. His thing? Sitting in the stands, sipping black coffee, and judging everyone while looking hot.

"YOU WANNA KNOW IF I’D FOLLOW THEODORE INTO A CURSED FOREST AT MIDNIGHT JUST BECAUSE HE SAID SO??? THE ANSWER IS YES. I’D GO, NO QUESTIONS ASKED."

You think he’s calm and controlled until you see him in a duel, and suddenly he’s throwing hexes like he’s possessed. It’s giving “do-not-poke-the-bear” energy, and it’s hot.

His smirk? Criminal. It’s the kind of smirk that makes you forget how to breathe for a second and then hate yourself because he definitely knows the effect it has on people.

“Mia cara,” he says, and you’re done for. No wand needed. He just obliterated your whole existence.

Theodore Nott | Personality

He’s quiet, but it’s that kind of quiet. The "I could verbally destroy you with a single sentence but choose not to because I have better things to do" kind of quiet.

(WE LOVE A MAN WITH RESTRAINED CHAOS!!! IT’S SO SEXY!!!)

His reputation is split down the middle. People either think he’s the chillest guy in Slytherin or they’re low-key terrified of him. There is no in-between. He doesn’t go out of his way to make people uncomfortable, but if you catch his bad side? RIP to you, my friend.

Very composed most of the time, but don’t mistake that for softness. Theo doesn’t raise his voice; he raises his eyebrow. And somehow, that’s worse.

"You really thought that was a good idea? Cute."

Stone-cold when it comes to confrontations. No yelling, no theatrics—just a quiet menace that makes you wish he’d scream at you instead because this is SO MUCH WORSE.

However, if it’s for his friends? Oh, baby, the gloves come off. Someone messes with Mattheo? He’s done. Someone insults you? They’re not showing up to class tomorrow. He’s terrifyingly efficient when it comes to protecting the people he loves.

Doesn’t talk a lot in fights, but his insults are cutting when they come out. And he does it with a smirk that makes you want to both slap him and kiss him.

"What’s the matter? Spellbook too heavy for you? Or is it just that your brain isn’t working?"

Unlike Mattheo, he doesn’t get in trouble for starting fights. Oh no, Theo’s the one who talks his way out of detention, leaving the professors wondering how they ended up apologizing to him.

Let’s be real, Theo has layers. He’s the kind of guy who looks calm and put together on the outside, but his mind? A mess. Overthinks everything, but you’ll never know it because he’s mastered the art of hiding his emotions. (He’s good at this, but it’s also probably why he sleeps like four hours a night.)

Moody, but in a subtle way. You’ll notice when he’s upset because he’ll get even quieter, or start tapping his fingers on the table. He’s not the type to vent about it—he’ll just say “it’s nothing” while his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear it crack.

Theo loves order. He’s a perfectionist and gets mildly stressed when things don’t go according to plan. He doesn’t lose his temper, though—he just sighs dramatically and mutters something in Italian like "Per l’amor del cielo..."

(BILINGUAL KINGS ARE UNFAIR. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE CAN INSULT ME IN TWO LANGUAGES?)

A total academic weapon. Not because he tries super hard, but because he’s just naturally brilliant and does the bare minimum to get top marks. He can explain a spell you’ve been struggling with for days in five seconds flat, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Always looks like he’s in control, but put him in social situations? Total disaster. Theo’s not awkward, but he doesn’t do small talk. Half the time, he just nods politely and hopes whoever’s talking gets the hint.

Has the driest sense of humor. He’ll drop a sarcastic one-liner so deadpan you’re not even sure if he’s joking.

"I think your essay was… bold. Choosing to write it in such a confusing way must’ve been a creative choice."

Drinks coffee like it’s water. Black coffee, of course. None of that sugary stuff, though he secretly loves when you make him try your sweet drink.

Doesn’t like parties but goes because the group makes him. He’s the guy sitting on the couch, watching everyone else make fools of themselves while holding a drink he hasn’t touched. (He’s your ride home because you know he’s always sober enough to apparate responsibly.)

Theodore Nott | Boyfriend

Ah, Theodore Nott, the walking paradox of calculated charm and quiet vulnerability. Having him as your boyfriend is like playing chess against a master—except the stakes are your heart, and he already has you in checkmate before you even realize the game started.

Manipulation, Thy Name is Theo:Theodore isn’t one to beg for your love; oh no, he’s too smooth for that. Instead, he’ll make sure you think choosing him was your idea all along.

He’ll subtly nudge you into needing him.

He anticipates your desires before you even say them aloud:

"Thirsty? I grabbed your favorite drink. Tired? Don’t worry, I already finished that essay you were stressing about."

He’s not loud about his possessiveness, but it’s there. You don’t realize it at first, but suddenly, every other guy who tries to get too close to you is either giving you a wide berth or “just happened” to fail their next exam. Coincidence? With Theo, nothing is a coincidence.

(We love a man who’s low-key terrifying but only in a protective way!)

How He Realized He Was in Love:Theo didn’t believe in love. Love was messy, uncontrollable, and entirely too risky for someone who thrived on precision and control. But then you came along, and everything changed.

It was slow at first. He didn’t notice it happening until one day, you smiled at him across the library, and he felt his carefully constructed walls crack.

And then it hit him.

“Merlin, I’m in love with her.”

Of course, Theo didn’t panic outwardly. No, he spent the next week internally spiraling.

"What does this mean?"

"What if she doesn’t feel the same way?"

"How do I tell her without sounding like an idiot?"

Eventually, he decided that subtlety was overrated. One evening, while you were sitting in his dorm, flipping through one of his books, he just said it.

"I love you."

You froze, unsure if you heard him correctly. He didn’t look away, his intense gaze pinning you in place.

"You don’t have to say it back. I just needed you to know."

Affection, Theo Style:Theo isn’t flashy or over-the-top, but he’s deeply romantic in his own way.

Words of Praise: He’s a master of compliments that don’t feel like compliments until you think about them later.

"You’re too brilliant for this school, you know that?""How do you manage to look stunning even when you’re furious with me?""You’re the only person who’s ever managed to make me lose focus, mia cara."

Subtle Acts of Service: He’s always doing things for you without making a big deal out of it. Your favorite quill broke? There’s a new one on your desk the next day. You’re stressed about a test? He’ll quiz you until you feel confident (and then reward you with a kiss for every right answer).

The Praise Kink Is Real, Babe:Theo doesn’t just praise you to make you feel good. He needs you to know how much he adores you. Whether it’s your intelligence, your kindness, or just the way you look in his sweater, he’s always quick to remind you of your worth.

"You’re too good for me, you know that?" he murmurs against your ear, his hand resting on your hip. "But don’t think for a second I’ll ever let you go."

(Is it hot in here or is it just Theo?)

The Possessiveness Comes Out in Subtle Ways:

At parties, his hand is always resting somewhere on you—your lower back, your shoulder, your thigh. A quiet signal to everyone else: She’s mine.

If someone flirts with you, he doesn’t cause a scene. Instead, he’ll step in with that dangerously calm demeanor, his words laced with thinly veiled threats.

"I believe you’re in my seat." Translation: Touch her again, and you’ll regret it.

Theodore, the Unexpected Softie:For someone so composed, Theo is surprisingly soft when it’s just the two of you.

He loves curling up with you on the couch, one arm draped over your shoulders while he reads aloud from a book he thinks you’d enjoy.

Sleeps with one hand always touching you—your waist, your hand, your hair. It’s the only time he truly relaxes.

Occasionally whispers “I don’t deserve you” when he thinks you’re asleep.

Having Theo as a boyfriend is a rollercoaster of intensity and tenderness. He’s the type to protect you from the world while also making you feel like you’re the center of his universe. And honestly? We’d ride that roller coaster over and over again.

Theodore Nott | Obsessive Devotion

If Mattheo is chaos in bed, Theodore is calculated destruction. Theo doesn’t rush—no, he takes his time. He knows every move, every word, every touch is designed to drive you absolutely insane.

The Slow Burn King:Theo isn’t just about getting you off; he’s about making you beg. He’s not the type to drag you into the nearest broom closet and go at it like a madman. No, Theo prefers to let the tension build—catching your eye across the library with a smirk, his hand brushing yours during dinner, leaning in close to whisper something sinful in your ear when no one else is looking.

"You’re squirming, mia cara. Tell me, what’s on your mind?"

Possessive but Polished:He loves control—holding you still with a firm grip while his mouth works wonders between your thighs. Theo thrives on the sound of your moans and whimpers, each one a confirmation that you belong to him.

But don’t get it twisted: his possessiveness is refined. He’s not shouting it from the rooftops; instead, he’s branding it into your skin with every kiss, every bite, every low growl of, “Mine.”

(We love a man who can ruin our lives with just one look.)

Praise You Like a Goddess:Theo is the king of praise. He’s not subtle about how much he worships you, and he makes sure you know it.

"You’re so perfect, amore mio. I could stay like this forever, just watching you fall apart for me."

He’ll kiss every inch of your skin like it’s holy ground. He’ll tell you how beautiful you are when you’re flushed, trembling, and completely at his mercy.

And if you praise him back? Game over. Tell him he’s a good boy, and suddenly you’ve unlocked the most obedient, eager-to-please version of Theo. He’ll do anything to hear you say it again.

Control with a Dash of Chaos:Theo’s not loud, but his intensity is deafening. He thrives on being in control, but sometimes he loves to break his own rules. If you push him just enough—maybe tease him in public or drag him into a forbidden situation—he’ll snap in the most delicious way.

"You think you can play games with me? Let me show you how this ends, bella."

Experimentation, but Make It Sophisticated:Theo isn’t one to dive into wild kinks without purpose, but he’s creative when it comes to trying new things.

Silk ties? Check.

Blindfolds? Of course.

Whispering Latin endearments in your ear while he has you completely at his mercy? A standard Tuesday night.

And don’t get me started on the way he uses his fingers—this man could write symphonies with how skillfully he plays your body like an instrument.

Stamina for Days:Don’t let his cool demeanor fool you—Theo can and will go for hours. He has the patience to draw out every moment until you’re gasping and begging for release, and then he’ll do it all over again.

"Oh no, dolcezza. We’re not finished yet. Not until I’ve had my fill of you."

Switch Theo = UNLOCKED:Normally, Theo’s the one in control, but when you take charge? When you straddle his hips, grip his jaw, and order him to behave? He’s putty in your hands.

"Tell me what you want, bella. Anything—it’s yours."

And the best part? He loves it. Watching you take what you want from him, hearing you praise him as he falls apart under your touch—it’s enough to drive him to the brink every single time.

In Private, He’s All Yours:While Theo keeps his emotions tightly guarded in public, behind closed doors, he’s all in. He loves to hold you afterward, running his fingers through your hair and whispering sweet nothings as you both come down from the high.

"You’re everything, you know that? My whole world."

Having Theodore Nott as a lover is like being the muse of a masterpiece—every touch, every word, every moment is designed to make you feel like the most desired person on the planet. And honestly? We’re not complaining

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Please like, Reblog, and comment.

[rynbutt]

pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.

"Focus here, sweetie."

you can find the other parts on my masterlist.

cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff

a/n: this made me feral

He had been gone for weeks. 

You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.

Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you. 

You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.

The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.

Spence: Are you home?

You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(

Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?

You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser

Spence: Have you had anything to eat?

You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later

Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.

“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.

“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.

“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout. 

You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you. 

You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile. 

“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.

You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed. 

You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed. 

“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.

“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk. 

“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”

“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”

You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”

“Thank you,” he beamed.

The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.

“This okay?” You asked.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.

You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box). 

Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”

“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have to,” you laughed.

“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition. 

The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).

“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”

“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”

Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?

But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.

“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.

“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.

“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter. 

You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme. 

“How bout a coffee?” you asked.

Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”

You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.

“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention. 

“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested. 

“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.

“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”

“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.

Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.

Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.

“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.

Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”

You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.

Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous. 

“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.

“I, uhm-”

“You don’t want to?” You asked.

“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.

You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”

Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.

“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.

“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.

“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.

Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.

It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.

And god you were perfect.

Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.

“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.

“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”

“Bit weird, you think?”

“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”

A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”

“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling. 

“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”

Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.

“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again. 

You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.

He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Then so am I.”

That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs. 

“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.

“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple. 

“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.

“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”

“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.

a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black

[anthotneystark]

Well, if you're rough and ready for love (Honey, I'm tougher than the rest)

(edit: now on ao3!)

Eddie is suffering.

It’s hardly the first time, but it’s self-inflicted this time. At least it’s not going to physically almost kill him like the bats did.

Emotionally, sure, but not physically. That has to be some kind of win.

“Did you get Vecna’d? Do I have to get my trumpet? I don’t know if you can play Metallica on a horn, but I’ll try if you need me to.”

“Buckley, I would pay money to see you attempt it,” he says absently, his gaze never moving.

“Good, I could use the bonus.”

“Probably a good time to say I’ve only got Monopoly money.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

He hums an agreement, startling a moment later when a hand is suddenly blocking his view.

“Stop drooling, it’s not attractive.”

“Nothing about me is attractive to you.”

“Fair, but still. Ew,” she snorts.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t help it. He’s just so….” He doesn’t even have a word for it, so he just sighs.

“Who would have thought. Mr. Anti-Conformity drooling over Jock Extraordinaire. He’s wearing pastels. What have you become?”

“Shut up, he’s your platonic soulmate.”

“He is. And I love him. I just also know that he’s all sporty and preppy.”

“He can be as sporty as he wants as long as he keeps wearing those shorts he had on the other day.”

“Gross.”

“Even you can admit he looked good.”

“Sure, but you’re drooling again.”

He should be allowed a little drool. Steve had looked so biteable.

“He’s not even wearing shorts today, it’s too cold for that, doofus.” It was. Summer had well and truly turned into fall. Shorts had been replaced by jeans (except on the days Steve and Lucas played basketball, then the shorts came back out), polos more often than not were exchanged for sweaters, and by god, it was kissing him even more than the shorts and tank tops of summer had.

(This is without even considering the extreme number of shirts that Steve had sacrificed to become half shirts “for more air flow, because I can’t just walk around shirtless, obviously.” Because it was obvious. Showing his chest was too much, but the soft skin of his stomach, interrupted by the trail of dark hair vanishing under his waist band, wasn’t too much. Obviously.)

It made no sense. It shouldn’t have been worse with less skin showing. But it was because somehow, knowing that the soft knit of those sweaters was covering slowly paling skin, strong muscles and that beautiful, amazing layer of softness that rounded out hard edges…well, it completely ruined his train of thought until he couldn’t remember where he’d been going originally.

Worth it, just getting to imagine how Steve looked under his clothes.

“He’s worn this stuff before, why does it have you in a coma today?” Robin sighs, put upon even though it was her decision to sit with him.

“His hair.” Because that was the kicker today. Because Steve Harrington had never walked outside looking less than completely perfect.

Because Steve somehow managed to look amazing even roughed up and dirty.

Because Stevie was comfortable with himself and picked the clothes he liked and didn’t bother hiding scars that only proved how far he’d be willing to go to protect his loved ones and didn’t care about if he didn’t look perfect.

“He didn’t style it.”

“I can see how you’d get that impression, but I assure you he did.”

“What?!” That makes Eddie finally look at her, nearly falling over where he’s sat.

“Yeah. It’s just not hairspray. He’s trying something new.”

“It works for him.” The response is automatic. Because it’s true. Because poofed up and closer to god could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and gunked up and water-logged could only work on someone as pretty as Steve, and bedhead could only look that good on someone as pretty as Steve.

Steve is just. So pretty.

But today, today it’s not firmly in place, soft even if it’s not going to move from it’s position. Today it’s not slicked back with water as he pops up from under it to splash one of the kids. Today it’s not half flat from where he slept on it, the same side he’ll leave pressed into Eddie’s shoulder if he’s not quite ready to start the day.

Today, it’s soft, curling around his ears, over his forehead, fluttering in the wind. It’s not the same kind of curly that his own hair is, the chaotic kind that if he tried to brush it, it’d eat the brush. It’s gentler, and he desperately wants to touch it.

“Seriously, I’m worried about your brain right now.”

“My brain is fine.”

“Close your mouth then.” Well, that’s embarrassing. He tosses a glare at her, and it’s just enough time to miss Steve heading their way. He does fall over where he’s sitting this time, but it’s so worth it because it makes Steve laugh.

He’d do an embarrassing amount of things to hear that laugh.

“You okay?” Steve asks, looking so fond and amused at Eddie’s antics that it makes his heart skip a beat.

It’s still surprising, having that look aimed at him, getting it from Steve.

“Fear not, Sir Stevington, I will survive,” he says, pushing himself up dramatically. Steve’s eyes crinkle as he snorts another laugh, and they both ignore Robin quietly bleching.

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to see you get through everything just to get taken out by your own theatrics,” Steve says. Eddie doesn’t even have time to react – Steve’s smiling and that always slows him down – when his gorgeous, beautiful friend pulls off that pale green sweater and presses it into Eddie’s hands.

“Don’t get cold on me, alright? I saw you shivering,” he says, like he hasn’t just ruffled his own hair once more and completely distracted all of Eddie’s thoughts in the blink of an eye.

And then he’s gone, off to give another attempt at skateboarding (trying to follow Max’s instructions and letting her laugh at him when she hears him fall before she does whatever trick it is perfectly even without her sight), and Eddie is left standing there, watching that perfect, broad back covered by a too tight tee shirt.

“This is a whole new level of pathetic, I think.”

“Shup it,” Eddie says, then freezes, feels her shit-eating grin growing. “Shut up!” He groans.

She can laugh all she wants, he decides, pulling Steve’s sweater over his head. It’s warm with his body heat, smells like his soap and his cologne and him.

She can laugh, he’s got a beautiful boy to watch, one who looks at him with a promise of what’s to come, when the time is right.

[trevorsturnioloappreciator]

Good Girl

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

-After a hard day at work, you seek comfort in Matt. He knows exactly what you need.

cw: explicit material (oral m!receiving, daddy kink, hair pulling, praise kink) looooots of pet-names, use of ‘sir’, he says ‘slut’ one time, rough!matt, patronizing!matt, matt’s sort of mean in this :P in the hot way

a/n: minors Do Not Interact!! i tried my best to not describe the reader or use any language that would insinuate anything about her looks :) also no use of y/n i hate that shit. this is the first fic i’ve written in like six years so i appreciate all feedback!

⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇ ⋇⊶⊰⊱⊷⋇

It was Friday, the one day you got off work early enough to spend the rest of your night with Matt, it was around 6:30 when you finally parked your car in his driveway and made your way up the stairs. The day you just had was replaying in your mind, all the grief you got from your boss and the way every coworker on your floor watched you leave her office, eyes welling, face hot from the embarrassment. You couldn’t help but feel defeated, like you had deserved the verbal assault and all you wanted now was your boyfriend.

Matt was perfect. He knew exactly how you needed to be treated before you could even tell him, which was lucky for you, considering how flustered you got asking for anything, let alone something on the more sexual side. It’s why the closer you got to the top of the stairs the more your body started to relax, albeit this also meaning your eyes once again felt the hot prickle of tears ready to fall.

You felt relieved as you saw the living room empty with just one ambient light glowing from above the sink across from you. you followed your heart and the sound of Frank Ocean playing softly to Matt’s bedroom door, rapping lightly with your knuckles so as not to startle him. Walking in, you saw him doing what you expected, sitting heavily in his chair, headset half on so he could still hear the low melody from his speaker, making final edits on a new hour long video the boys had filmed that week.

Matt straightens in his seat as he turns to where you’re leaning against the doorframe, waiting for him to welcome you in, nervously picking at your thumbnail. “Hey, doll, c’mere.” a smile breaks over his face as he takes his headphones off and twists his chair to face you, holding his arms out.

Walking in, you try and muster up a smile but it falls short as the comfort of Matt’s presence makes your damn finally break. You traipse over to settle into his lap sideways and tuck your head under his chin already feeling the tears spill over onto your cheekbones. Matt must’ve felt the drops falling onto his sweater as he cranes his neck to see your face where it’s nestled into his collarbones, “Whats wrong, honey? hm?” he rubs your leg where its propped up on the side of his chair, squeezing you closer by the arm he has wrapped around your shoulder.

You feel his lips meet your forehead gently, resting them there more than kissing you, you bring your hand to tug on his sweater, shaking your head and letting out an almost imperceptible whine. “awe, poor girl, d’you have a rough day? want daddy to help, baby doll? we can go lay down or…” his sentence trails off as you slip from his lap onto the floor between his legs.

Matt lowly chuckles as he watches you get comfortable on your knees, looking up through your still-wet-lashes at him, laying your hands on his thighs and resting your cheek on his left leg. Matt’s amusement is evident in his voice, “what’re ya doin, silly girl. not gonna even ask me?” his smile stays playful as he moves his hands from atop yours to rest on the sides of your head, the feeling of his cool fingers lightly touching your ears and the pressure of his big hands causes you to almost purr in his hold.

The tension from your day a thing of the past as you feel your mind floating to a place only your boyfriend can take you to. “s-sorry” speaking is the last thing on your mind but a part of you knows matt loves hearing you have to explain yourself, loves how you squirm at his insistence and especially loves your willingness to fulfill his wish through your embarrassment. “need daddy, need you ta just do what you want please, don’t wanna think.”

Your voice is meek as you move your hands up his thighs feeling over his soft sweatpants, not pushing too far as you know matt hasn’t given express permission.

One of Matt’s hands move to meet yours where it’s resting on his upper thigh as his right hand slides to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

“hmm, my sweet girl.. you need daddy? thats okay sweetheart, just need to ask like a good girl, okay?”

His voice is gentle and guiding with the slightest glint of condescension, just enough to make your eyes slip closed, melting into his palm as you blearily nod at his instruction. “could I please make you feel good, daddy, and let you do what you want to me, please, sir?”

Matt feels his heart clench at your words, always loving how he can get you so eager and desperate for him, your soft voice adopting that airy quality, eyes sparkling, looking at him like he was your whole world. Matt can’t help himself as he leans forward and lands a sweet kiss to your hairline, your cheek, then down to the tip of your nose. “My girl~.. so polite, you know how much I love when you use your manners, huh? Good job, sweetheart..” His voice soothing and husky, you can tell he’s beginning to give into you, but you also know he’s not that easily swayed.

Matt leans back in his chair, hands behind his head, like he’s relaxing on the beach and not mentally torturing you as you squeeze your thighs together, squirming where you’re propped on your knees between his legs. “Please.. please?” you’re trying your hardest not to break into a full-on beg but looking up at his smug expression, legs spread and chin tilted up as he stares at you down his nose, you feel like youre going to burst out of your skin, needing him to just grab you and take you.

The only response Matt dignifies you with is a low chuckle and a patronizing ruffle to your hair, you know you should be angry or even ashamed but the only thing running through your mind is how thankful you are for him. You feel your body temperature rising as his hand stills and starts patting over your head, “Okay, sweetheart.” he drags out the oookay in a placating tone, “Why don’t ya show me how bad you need it, hm? If you’re not gonna tell me whats botherin you, you can show me where you need me, at the very least, huh?”

Matt’s words are all you need to hear as you lift up onto your heels, planting your hands on the muscle of his thighs and tilting forward to shyly nuzzle against the slight tent forming in his sweats. You look up, gauging his expression, feeling nervous no matter how many times Matt has reassured you that there’s just about nothing you could do to him that he wouldn’t love.

“Ah…” he drags the syllable as if he’s just connected the final clues to a mystery. “That’s what my dirty girl wanted. Need me let you sit there and have daddy take over like a good girl?” You nod lethargically, head swimming with desire, your nose brushing against the part of him you want the most. “Need it, i’ll be good, promise..” Hearing your own words distantly, you almost feel like someone else is in your head controlling you, opening your eyes to meet Matt’s devilish expression, you begin to half believe he is in your head.

You mouth desperately at his bulge, wetting the gray fabric of his pants, digging your fingers into the meat of his thighs, furrowing your brow at how close you are to what you’ve been thinking about all day. Matts large hand thats still resting on the crown of your head suddenly tightens to grip your hair firmly, “Okay, okay… let daddy take care of ya, princess. I can see how bad you need it, hm? Need to be put to use?” You begin to nod as much as you can while he still holds you by the hair, Matt kicks the chair from behind him as he stands in front of you, using his tight hold on your hair to make you crawl after him as he moves closer to the end of the bed.

The whine you let slip could only be described as pitiful. It makes Matt’s face light up as he lets go of you, smoothing your hair down and bending to kiss where he had previously been tugging you.

“Alright, babydoll stand up for me.” as you rise to your feet, finally feeling how numb your legs had become, you lilt forward to hug around his waist. Matt chuckles sweetly and uses a gentle hand on your jaw to tilt your head back, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

The sheer intensity of the kiss makes you feel like you’ll never be able to breathe again, only able to inhale what he lets you, nose filled with his scent and a lingering breath of the cologne he must’ve put on this morning. If this is how you went, you would die happy. Matt holds you firmly by the back of the neck, using this leverage to pull back just slightly, lips barely touching as he examines the mess he made of you, in contrast, you study his composed demeanor, making you feel a flutter of shame at just how worked up you are knowing matt has barely even touched you.

The thing to snap you out of your own head is a soft thump from beneath you, looking down, realizing Matt has tossed a throw pillow on the floor in between you two. His hold on the nape of your neck stays firm as he lowers his head just a bit to really meet your hazy eyes, “You gonna be a good girl and get on the ground for me? I know your poor knees must hurt, hm? Sit on the pillow, doll, get comfy. Don’t wanna hurt ya too much.” The splitting grin on his face as he says this last sentence is enough to make you that much more aware of the arousal in between your legs.

Eyes never leaving each others as you drop to your knees, Matt’s hand cradling the side of your face. Once you’re settled his soft touch turns to a grip on your chin causing your lips to form into a pout, making him laugh at your position.

“Such a good slut, bet I could tell ya to do anything and you would.” He uses his tight hold on your face to manipulate your head into an exaggerated nod, “Uh huh, and you’d love it… love when daddy bosses you around, makes you humiliate yourself…” Matt’s smile stays wide but his eyes have lost all humor as he bends to be eye-level with you.

“But you don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart, you know i just wanna take care of you. Help you let go, stop doin all that thinking, huh? Yeah… ‘s too much for my girl, thats why you just gotta let daddy do all the thinking for ya.” He finishes his words with a light couple taps on your cheek. By the end of Matt’s monologue his smile is reaching his eyes and you can tell, even through the fog in your head, that he’s sincere, slightly teasing, yes, but he means what he’s saying, knows how much you need him to take over.

You only nod dumbly in response which gets you another tender kiss as a reward. Matt straightens out and lets go of your face, holding out his hands to you. “Gimme your hands, baby.” Your hands placed in his up-turned palms are then guided to hold his hips. “Want ya to keep your hands here for me, tap me twice if it’s too much, alright?” Matt’s stern tone letting you know that this was a rule not a suggestion, “Mhm, yes, sir.”

“Good girl~!” His voice as though he was giving a treat to a puppy who learned its first trick, causing you to squeeze your legs tighter, hyper aware of the wetness growing in your panties, and smile up at him lovingly.

“T-thank you, daddy..” Your low voice like kryptonite to your boyfriend, moving his hands from where they were settled over yours to play with your hair, gently twisting the strands with a blissed out look on his face.

“Okay, babydoll, I liked that little show you put on for me earlier but…” His voice trails slightly as he tugs on one of the strands of hair he’s still holding, “I dunno if you’ve demonstrated just how much you need me in your mouth, so daddy’s gonna let you try again, hm? How’s that sound?”

“Mhm mhm i’ll show you!” At this point your brain is so beyond feeling embarrassed you don’t even realize how pathetic you sound, only knowing you’re allowed to put yourself to some use, allowed to prove your devotion to Matt. Immediately leaning forward your mouth reattaches to the still damp spot on Matt’s sweats, licking and kissing at his erection, needing to convey all the words and feelings swirling in your head through your lips.

You’re still fully attached to him as your grip on his hips tighten, mumbling through the fabric, “Please, please lemme take ‘em off, your pants, please.” You feel like your skin is on fire, mouth too empty, head not empty enough. “Of course you can, princess, just remember, don’t move those hands.”

His words give you pause for a split second before you’re straining to bite at his waistband moving downward as you pull off his pants, you don’t even care that you hear him failing to stifle his laughter from above you, it only spurs you on, making you more wet, more hungry for him.

Matts hands in your hair start to move more to the back of your head, now pressing your face against his hard on, “That what you’ve been begging for this whole time? Daddy’s dick in your face, hm? Makes sense, what kinda guy would i be if i didn’t know how much my girl likes getting her face fucked, huh?” It’s these words that finally make you moan out loud, now more eager than ever to just get him down your throat.

“Please, please, need it so bad, more than anything please. Don’t wanna breathe anymore unless you want me to, need daddy to make it better~” You’re almost unaware of the words you’re saying as they tumble out of your mouth, Matt certainly enjoyed your little outburst as he lets out a quiet Fuck under his breath, now completely hard as he haphazardly tugs down his boxers, kicking them and his sweatpants from around his ankles, reaching to his back and pulling his sweater over his head.

Then just as you were about to get what you wanted, Matt pushes you back slightly at the shoulder, tugging meanly on your shirt, “Take all this shit off, keep your panties on.”

A shiver runs through you while you rush to take all your clothes off, obediently repositioning onto the pillow, feeling Matt’s scrutinizing eyes on you, making your face heat up. “Good job, doll, say ‘ah’…” His smile is verging on cruel as he holds your chin, pulling your mouth open.

You follow his orders and he immediately steps closer to you, slapping his tip against your tongue. “Ya look so pretty, baby…” his voice trails off as he uses the hand under your chin to guide your mouth onto him, letting out a deep groan and rolling his head back.

“Fuuuck, good girl…” Matt’s eyes are back on you as you slowly work your mouth up and down his length, your eyes slip closed, finally feeling your body and mind level out, you feel Matt’s big hands lay on your head, assisting your movements. “Open those eyes… ‘Atta girl.” his left hand moving down to lightly pinch your cheek, right hand petting you softly as he stares down at you- shiny lips, teary eyes, and puffed out cheeks.

Suddenly, the hand that was previously stroking over your hair, was now firm at the back of your head, pushing you forward.

Your brows furrow as you gag on Matt’s dick, feeling him hit the back of your throat as he holds you still, laughing under his breath at your spluttering breaths and the tears falling down your cheek.

“Such a good job, babydoll, know how much you love choking on it, hm?” the hand he has on the back of your head lets go, allowing you to pull back for a full breath of air. “So good, honey, i love how you take it, love how you’d do anything to please me..”

Immediately after taking a break to breathe you put him back in your mouth, fervently bobbing your head, sucking him down to his pubic bone, forcing yourself to stay there, looking up at Matt as he smiles down at you proudly. “That’s my good girl, want daddy to fuck your face, hm?”

You nod as much as you can with your mouth so full, Matts smug smile only getting bigger at your answer, he plants his hands on the side of your head and starts slow. Pulling you off him just a bit before tugging you back down, again and again. Matt’s moans and swears increase as you gag and choke on his dick, you can feel him pulsing in your mouth as he thrusts messily, “Fuck, so good, so perfect, angel.”, he pants out the words, throwing his head back and finally holding you down on him, cumming down your throat.

“That’s it, baby, good job. Swallow it all like a big girl…”, he pats your head lovingly, before nudging your head off of him. The floaty feeling not subsiding as you slump down, hands still gripping at Matt’s hips, looking up at him with stars in your eyes.

“Thank you, sir…”, is the only words you can think of, watching Matt as he slips his sweats back on, “Don’t need to thank me, babydoll, I love helpin you.”

Matt’s voice lulling you, he comes back over to you and leans forward, picking you up under your arms and holding you to his chest. “C’mon, sweet girl let’s go lay in bed, hm? Did so good for me, im so proud of you for tellin me what you need, such a good job.” Matt carries you to the head of his bed, laying you down and walking over to his wardrobe, grabbing a long sleeve shirt and dressing you in it, sitting sideways on his bed next to where you’re sitting back against his headboard. “D’you want daddy to take care of you, hm?”, he says this while rubbing up and down your thigh, lightly nudging your legs open. The blush that covers your face makes you feel more shy as you answer, “N-no, that’s okay… just wanted to make you feel good, it makes me feel good.”

Matt smiles brightly at you, cooing at your words. “Awe, baby, that’s so sweet…”, he brackets you in between his arms as he leans forward to kiss you deeply. “My sweet girl..”, another kiss, “You know I love you so much, right? More than anything, just wanna give you everything you ask for.”

Your arms reach up to wrap around Matt’s neck, tucking your face into his neck, your blush intensifying at his words, “I love you, too. So much. Thank you for always knowing what i need, you’re the best thing to happen to me.” You’re still hiding your face in his neck, too shy to see his face as you speak your mind.

Matt leans back, bringing you with him and positioning you in his lap, his hand on the side of your face pulling you away from his shoulder to look at him. “I’m always gonna take care of you, sweetheart, it’s my job.”

[kbwrites]

How the JJK Men Flirt

characters: Gojo, Nanami, Choso

⚝ content: slightly suggestive for gojo, choso is a cutie pie, Nanami will always be husband material

Satoru Gojo

Thinks he is a smooth operator

In reality, has zero rizz. Creepy rizz.

“Damn Ma, you shit with that ass?” 😩

Makes up for it with his looks and the fact that he’s loaded (wallet and pants).

“When are you gonna let me take you out on a date?” He leans against the wall looking down at you through his blindfold.

“Go away Satoru.” You slip past his arms, leaving the white-haired sorcerer speechless.

You lounge on the couch of your apartment when you hear a knock on the door. Upon opening it you see roses, snacks, and a Chanel bag on the doorstep. Attached to the flowers is a card.

‘Get ready for the BEST NIGHT EVER be there @ 7<3’

Guess you have no choice now?

Once you get past his strong personality he’s actually really sweet.

His laid-back demeanor is really just a front, Satoru is a nervous wreck when it comes to talking to women. Especially You.

Is so worried about impressing you, he buys the most expensive thing on the menu. The food ends up being way too fancy for your tastes so you guys end up at a fast food place.

Orders everything off the menu there too.

Ends up getting so sick from eating too much you have to take him home to take care of him.

That was his plan all along.

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

Kento Nanami

You can’t really tell he’s flirting??

It starts as little things he does for you.

Complaining about working late? A cup of coffee is on your desk when you get to work.

No time to grab lunch? Kento coincidentally has an extra bento.

He always plays it off though:

“I just happened to make too much food.”

“We can’t afford for you to get sick, there’s too much work to get done.”

But the truth is, he hopes you complain about something so he can swoop in and fix it. On your day off, the first one in months you decide to visit a bakery you’ve seen all over Instagram. You see a tall man in front of you… he kind of looks like-

“Kento?”

“Oh. Hello.” He turns around, recognizing your voice immediately. He looks different without a suit. “I’ve never seen you here before. Might this be your first time?”

“Yeah, I saw it online and wanted to give it a shot!” You chuckle nervously.

The line moves, it’s now Kento’s turn to order.

“I’ll have the sourdough loaf, half dozen croissants and..” He turns to you “Whatever this young lady wants.”

You end up ordering a slice of chocolate cake and a few other treats. Profusely thanking your coworker for paying, ever the gentleman.

“Thanks again, please allow me to pay you back-”

“Don’t even think about it.” He says firmly, a moment passes. “Are you heading out now? Maybe we can eat some of these together—”

“YES.”

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

Choso Kamo

Actually adorable.

Follows you around like a love-sick puppy.

You need him to jump? How high?

He notices EVERYTHING about you.

“You changed your hair today. I like it.”

“I’ve never seen you in that sweater before, its pretty.” All said with an intense blush on his face.

He doesn’t really understand why you have such an effect on him, at first he thinks you cursed him or something.

But one day he’s out with Yuji and brings it up.

“Whenever I’m with (Y/N) I don’t want to leave her side. It's like I’m drawn to her.”

His younger brother just laughs.

“Sounds like you’re in love Choso.”

Love?

Once he realizes it he just flat-out confesses. Pulls you away to a secluded spot on the school grounds. There's a bouquet of roses, a teddy bear and chocolate by the base of the tree.

Takes your hands in his and looks at you with a scared but hopeful expression.

“(Y/N).. Would you please be my girlfriend?”

And your heart swoons.

[alchemistc]

Eddie's squinting at him. Chim has the entire lower half of his face covered by a hand. Hen - Hen snorts as she turns a corner and gets a good look at him.

"I'm trying to decide if a closet joke is appropriate for this situation," she says, and Chim just about crumbles to the ground with laughter.

Buck glances down at himself - new tee-shirt with the thicker collar Tommy had told him looked nice the last time he'd worn it, green canvas jacket he'd maybe definitely stolen off the back of Tommy's bar stool this morning, loose fitting slacks and a beat up pair of sneakers that may or may not be his own.

Buck crosses his arms and tries to look stern as Eddie's face breaks too. Like he has any room to talk - the father-of-an-absent-child-mustache is a cry for help, Buck swears. And it's not like - I mean it's not like Buck doesn't look good in this. He has it in good authority he kills in the blue-collar fit.

"Is - is Tommy trying out jewel-toned sweaters, now?" Eddie asks, barely containing laughter, and Hen breaks out in peels of laughter too, honest-to-god slapping her knee as she bends at the waist.

"Guys stop!" Hen says, but Buck can tell by the way she's eyeing him that whatever comes out of her mouth next isn't going to be in his defense. "Kar -." Another chuckle. "Karen and I -." Giggles, this time, muffled by her hand. Chimney makes the mistake of looking up at Hen and the bench actually clangs when Chimney drops his full weight onto it while the laughter amps back up. "Karen and I just don't have the willpower to maintain the same waist measurements." She actually squeaks a bit when Buck adjusts his stance, and Buck remembers the conversation he'd had with Maddie about how he'd been picking up some of Tommy's mannerisms lately.

The cackle from Eddie is so high pitched Buck's actually a little afraid he's gonna fuck up his vocal chords. He's - he's gonna keep pretending to be miffed by this teasing, arms crossed and lip pouting, brow furrowed and playing it up, but the jacket still smells like Tommy's aftershave and he knows when he goes to pick him up from Harbor Tommy's gonna look at him like he wants to eat him, so who's really winning here, anyway?

(He hopes Donato isn't there, though. She's pretty brutal with her affectionate teasing.)

A hand drops on his shoulder, and Buck turns to look just as Bobby opens his mouth. "Nice to see you, Tommy," Bobby says, and the three stooges dissolve into tear-filled laughter while Bobby shoots him a fond grin. "My mistake," he says, when he catches his eye - just a twitch of his lips while Buck lays the pout on thick. "Thought you were both out of the closet, not sharing it."

Chimney howls, but Buck has to suck his lips between his teeth when Bobby winks and turns back the way he'd come.

[wooahaes]

svt - with a shy partner

pairing: non-idol!svt x gn!reader

prompt: svt with a partner who is shy(/kinda anxious).

genre: mostly fluff. established relationship in all.

warnings: reader getting anxious. some food mentions throughout. alcohol/clubbing mentions in soonyoung's (reader has a shitty time) + mentions of reader having shitty friends in soonyoung's. seungkwan yelling at someone being a dick in his. vernon fakes sick. usage of 'dude' as a term of endearment in vernon's. minghao being affectionately evil. chan being a lovable menace for a moment to distract them (teasing + tickling reader). intentional lowercase, no proofreading.

daisy’s notes: sorry some of these are longer than the others, i just wanted to write mostly affectionate sweet established relationships. also this is probs veering into anxiety territory at some points im sure.

choi seungcheol

seungcheol knew that you loved him softly. this would never be an issue with him: some people simply weren't loud when it came to loving others, and he was never going to turn away your subtle touches and loving words. being outgoing was hard for you even now in life, where seungcheol had learned to manage it well. therefore, he knew how to take care of you in social situations. he would lead conversations when you were faltering, and he always stayed close to you just to give you someone to latch onto when things were getting to be too much. shy as you were, you still tried sometimes.

and now he was on his way to save you from yet another conversation with the only two friends of his you allowed to tease you.

joshua was snickering at whatever jeonghan had said to you to make you shrink into your sweater (the one that matched seungcheol's, with the heart patches on the elbows), and you looked as though you might drown yourself in the soft fabric if jeonghan didn't stop. but seungcheol knew as well as you did that all it would take is you saying a firm 'quit it' for both men to back off. they were harmless, through and through. but the moment seungcheol was close enough, you already sought refuge at his side, burying your face into his sweater. he could feel your face burning hot.

"what are you saying to them now?" seungcheol rolled his eyes, arm wrapped around you. "are you trying to kill them?"

"all i did was point out that you two are matching again," jeonghan hummed. "it's not my fault they get embarrassed when i point it out."

joshua rolled his eyes. "cheollie to the rescue again."

"shua!" you peeked back at him, lips pressed into a very cute pout. "cheollie, they're bullying me again..."

seungcheol fought back a laugh. that was always how these things played out. jeonghan and joshua, two of your longtime friends, would tease you a little, and then you would pout at your cheollie while he protected you. hell, the latter half was usually how seungcheol saved you from other silly things. he'd been the "excuse me, they asked for no pickles" kind of boyfriend to you time and time again... mainly because he knew you'd hold your tongue otherwise, trying not to bother people. but with these two? you were comfortable playing this little game.

so seungcheol squared up a little. "are they?"

jeonghan rolled his eyes. "here they go again." and he grabbed joshua by his elbow, leading him away with an excuse. if seungcheol hadn't been matching you, maybe they would have played... but something about matching anything gave seungcheol this weird boost of strength.

seungcheol rolled his eyes in turn, wrapping his arms around you as he turned his attention away from them. "i'm glad you're okay with them, you know." he let out a blissful sigh. "it's cute to see you embarrassed."

"cheollie..." you pouted again, eyes meeting his own. you glanced around the room, suddenly acutely aware of how you'd been holding onto him. no doubt your face was burning hot with embarrassment again. "can we go home now?"

he chuckled, leaning to kissing the top of your head. "we can," he promised. "let's go."

yoon jeonghan

if there was one thing that endeared jeonghan to you, it was the cute flustered expression you had whenever he started flirting with you. no matter how long the two of you had been dating, all he had to do was call you adorable to see your eyebrows shoot up, lips agape as you made some comment about how the two of you were 'past that' now. his favorite moments, however, were these: you were trapped on one end of the couch, legs draped over his lap, and he was toying with you idly. sometimes it'd be admiring your hands, or complimenting your hair, or pointing out how much he admired you sense of style...

today? he'd been pinching your cheeks with that wicked giggle you loved (even if you refused to admit it sometimes). "you're just so cute," he snickered. "i'm so lucky..."

"hannie..." you whined, eyes still pinned to the tv screen. "you're missing it."

your face was burning hot underneath his touch, though. a little win in his book. "i'm trying to appreciate you right now," he teased. his gaze flickered back to the tv, where the male lead was (finally) confessing his love. "what does he have that i don't?"

"jeonghan, i--'

"do you like him more than me?" he teased you further, leaning in. "i could be him. he couldn't be me, though."

your gaze met jeonghan's as you pouted a little, yet never pulled away from his touch. "jeonghan..."

"i'll re-do my confession to you," he dropped one hand to rest on the outside of your thigh, leaning in. that jovial expression dropped for a moment as he became completely serious for a moment, playing it up all too well, "i'm in love with you. do you... could you be in love with me, too?" he traced your bottom lip with his thumb. "i know you once loved joshua, but--"

and that was your breaking point as you pushed his hand away, already snorting. "jeonghan!"

before you could try to dive away from him, jeonghan had wrapped his arms around you, that airy laugh punctuating his break in character. he pulled you back in, head resting on your shoulder. "you're too easy to mess with," he giggled. "you should have never told me you had a crush on joshua, by the way."

you rolled your eyes, snuggling in. "noted."

joshua hong

joshua knew how to calm you down when your shyness was getting the better of you. he wordlessly wrapped his own stretchy, bead bracelets around your wrist, and ran his thumb across the beads. you told him once that it helped you for some reason (you'd never figured out the cause), and that had been enough for joshua to always keep at least one bracelet on him. even in a formal event like this. you had made the sacrifice of coming to his work event with him, the lead he could do was ensure you were taken care of.

one of the higher-ups had struck up conversation with you, and joshua knew that it made you far more nervous. you'd answered their questions as best as you could about your own work, your college, your life... and the occasional stammer was enough to give you away to him. joshua knew you were terrified of slipping up, of saying the wrong thing. he'd been the one who spoke for you in several other situations, but he knew what other people would think if he kept doing it. he shouldn't speak for you. or, even worse, that you were rude for not speaking for yourself. he could stand people thinking badly of him, but of you?

he'd silently rolled the bracelet off his own wrist while no one was looking, and pulling it over your own when pretending to inspect your watch. it looked out of place at this formal event, but it was fine. he kept a hold on your hand, thumb running across the beads. for a moment, you looked at joshua, and then gave him the subtlest of smiles before resuming your space.

when he brought it up, you already had an answer. "it's because you're there with me," you told him later that night while sitting outside of a burger place. you'd been stealing his fries, but he didn't care. he was out of that place, and so were you. you could take everything if you wanted. you'd already taken his heart, what else did he have left that wasn't yours already?

"but you know that." he said. his tie was loose around his neck, the top few buttons undone. his jacket had been left in the car he left parked down the street. the two of you needed a real meal after the appetizers (or the 'horse divorce' as you had whispered to him to get him to laugh) were barely enough to feed either of you. "i'm never gonna leave you alone in situations like this."

"i know." you averted your gaze when you said it, ever the bashful one when it came to acknowledging his affections. "i just... i like it when i know you're there. and i like wearing the bracelets you make. it just makes me feel more connected to you, if that's okay."

he leaned over, lips pressing against your cheek. "that's always okay," he said, voice softer. "we're a team. i've got you, alright?"

you smiled again that same sweet smile he'd kiss goodnight forever if you'd let him. "alright." and then you snagged another fry from his meal, eyes flickering up to meet him. "thanks for being on my team, shua."

for you? he'd be anything you needed. teammate, cheerleader, manager... just say the word.

wen junhui

"you forgot them."

jun wasn't afraid to speak up for you. seungkwan had been getting a head count of the group since he'd been the unlucky volunteer to go back inside the vacation home to get drinks, and he paused immediately at jun's casual statement. his gaze flickered over to where you were sitting next to jun, visibly flustered, and everyone else had suddenly shut up.

"huh?"

jun waved it off casually. "you forgot to count them," he said, arm curling around you. "just don't forget to get their drink."

"it's okay," you squeezed his hip gently. "i could have gotten my own drink--"

"seungkwan lost the game, so it's his job," jeonghan called out from his spot on the other side of the fire. he was always so mindful of you and how you got timid when around the full group. "don't be sorry about it."

"seungkwan should be sorry," chan said without missing a beat. "he's the one that forgot them."

mingyu caught seungkwan by the back of his shirt before he could step towards chan, instead pulling him back into his arms with a lighthearted laugh. "i'll help you," he said. "come on. let's get everyone their drinks."

you watched the two wander off, fingers already curling around the edge of jun's shirt. all you had to do was give it the slightest tug to earn his attention. "you didn't have to do that," you said softly.

his brows raised a little. "hm?" he looked toward where the pair had left. "did you want to get your own drink?"

"no, i..." you pursed your lips. how did you say 'i'm used to being forgotten' without it sounding bad? you were typically the quieter one in a group. if you weren't with your close friends, then people seemed to overlook you by accident--just as seungkwan had done. "it's normal for me, that's all."

"it's his job, though," jun said, as casual as he could be about it. "if you wanted to get your own drink, that's fine--but it shouldn't be because he miscounted."

if it wouldn't net him a little teasing, you would kiss him here. even a chaste kiss on the cheek earned teasing with all his friends present. so you just snuggled in, knee pressing against his, and gave him a quick squeeze around the middle. it was subtle enough no one would comment on it.

"thank you, jun," you said softly. "i..." get nervous with large groups. but he already knew that.

even if it earned him a little teasing, he leaned in to press a kiss into your hair. "i've got you," he promised. "don't worry. i'll always remember you."

kwon soonyoung

all of this fucking sucked and there was no place you wanted to be more than home. but you were always a bit of a pushover, always the person who said no to going out, to going to clubs, to doing things in highly busy places when you could barely move... and yet here you were, completely miserable. why did your friends even invite you to places like this now? you'd compromised with them in the past (clubs that were a little less packed than the one you were in, or going to karaoke to drink and sing so they could get loud if they wanted), but it felt like those days were slipping away now. you hugged yourself tight, trying to make yourself smaller as you kept to a side table while they danced their hearts out with strangers. it was too loud and too cramped, and your drinks tasted disgusting, and you'd swallowed your struggles for the past few hours. when was the last time your friends did something you wanted to do...?

then your phone lit up. tap tap?

you responded in kind: tap tap.

be there in ten!

soonyoung had established this system with you forever ago. he'd gone off talking about his experience in martial arts and that tapping out was basically the way to get out of it all. you'd expressed a little confusion over the subject: wasn't the point of martial arts to, you know, to fight? but he'd played with your fingers idly, humming to himself as he considered the way to explain it simplest.

"everyone has different limits," was what he had settled on, looking up to meet your eyes that day. "so if you meet your limit... just text that to me and we can leave. no one has to know what it means."

you gathered your things as silently as you could, just to ensure you still had your belongings at this point. you danced with your friends earlier, only to tap out of that when you wanted another drink. someone had said something raunchy to you, and been kind-of a dick when you tried to innocently mention you had a boyfriend (then why are you even here?). thus you sentenced yourself to the sidelines. out of sight, out of mind, out of trouble.

soonyoung didn't seem to care that he was in his sweats. no doubt he sweet-talked the bouncer into letting him in to find you quickly and leave, because he'd already taken your hand the moment he made his way to you. he guided you out of the place, waved to the guy, and made off with your hand in his.

"i don't like these friends," he said outright once you were far away enough and your hearing was starting to return. your head still felt slightly fuzzy from it all. "why do you let them treat you like this?"

you'd been friends with this group since college. they went out clubbing then, too, but they had never pressured you to go with them then--and they still made an effort to do fun things they liked that you also liked. when did that start changing? you counted back the time. longer than six months ago? a year? what changed--

you looked at soonyoung. oh. that's what changed. soonyoung came into your life and gave you a safe place to be yourself. and around then, that's when your friends had begun making comments about how you were always so 'safe' and too timid for things. pushing boundaries was good, right?

soonyoung took your hands in his. "you shouldn't let them force you into this so often," he said, voice gentle. "i know it's hard for you to say no, but... you look miserable still."

you shook your head. not tonight. please not tonight. and soonyoung nodded in kind, squeezing your hands.

"my housemates are home watching movies," he said. "we can make more popcorn! i washed your spare clothes so you can get all comfy," he beamed at you. "but if you don't want to hang out with them, we can watch something in my room instead. is that better?"

you liked soonyoung's housemates. you shook your head. "can i sit between you and jun?"

he giggled, kissing you gently. "as long as you don't mind him cuddling with you, too."

with soonyoung around... you were more okay with anything.

jeon wonwoo

you had never believed in soulmates before, but if you had to pick one... you were pretty sure wonwoo was it. the two of you had met through a mutual friend (one kim mingyu, who was your loud, loud neighbor at one point--but also the guy who brought over food when you were sick and took care of you when you had no one else to help you), who had turned to you and said he knew someone perfect for you. the two of you met in a bookstore for your date, and the rest was history. wonwoo put you at ease faster than anyone had ever done before, and you were sure that it was because the two of you were alike.

case in point: it was saturday night, and wonwoo was spending it with you. "with" being used loosely: he wasn't talking to you, mostly muttering under his breath to himself, nor were you doing something together. he was curled up on the couch, playing a video game by himself, while you were happily doing a jigsaw puzzle today. saturday was cozy days in this apartment. fridays were when the two of you ventured out. sometimes you went out for dinner, or went to the movies, or went to a mall just to explore for hours. sometimes you were joined by friends, other times it was just the two of you. but that's how things were with you and wonwoo: the weekdays after work could be spend doing whatever the two of you wanted to do. the weekends were for relaxing at home, save for the occasional party (usually birthdays, but you made your fair share of appearances outside of those) the two of you made plans around.

being with wonwoo was easy. his introverted nature seemed to go hand in hand with your shyness. he was okay with speaking for you when you were particularly nervous with people, and he was equally fine holding your hand when you felt okay enough to speak up. he never judged you. being with wonwoo was safe. the most he ever did were the gentle chuckles that sounded from him when he was admiring you, finding tiny bits of your behavior particularly endearing.

"wonwoo?" you called out. he pulled off one set of his headphones, peering back at you for you to continue. "i love you."

his gaze softened. "i love you, too." he didn't turn away yet, though. "are you thinking about something?"

he always seemed to read you easily (you were his favorite book, in his humble opinion). you averted your gaze, already feeling the heat flood into your cheeks. being with wonwoo was easy, yes, but your shyness always seemed to take hold when it came to your feelings past those three words. "i just..." you fiddled with your fingers. "i was thinking about you. and... you're always really kind to me, you know? i don't have to, y'know, worry about messing up with you. i can... i can just be me, timidness and all."

wonwoo just seemed to admire you now, the softest smile on his face. "right... because you accept me as i am. i like this," he gestured a little to the room in general. "we don't have to go out all the time and do things. it's like..." he trailed off for a moment. "you're going to make fun of me."

you waved a hand, "no, no, just say it. i won't, i promise."

"we're cats." he paused when he heard you snort a little in response, but continued. "you've seen them before. some cats just laze around each other, and that's enough because they're spending that time together. we don't have to be doing the same thing... but just knowing we can spend this time together shows me that we love each other." he paused again, waving a hand, "not that i don't love doing things with you! it's just nice to know that we fit together."

"like a puzzle," you said absentmindedly. it earned a soft chuckle from wonwoo in kind.

"yes." he set aside his controller, making his way to you. "like a puzzle." he pulled out the chair across from you. he'd reached out, picking up a piece. "may i?"

"you may," you giggled, watching him carefully put it into place. "wonwoo?" you reached forward, brushing his hair from his eyes. "you're my favorite puzzle piece."

he chuckled warmly, cupping your cheek for a moment. "you're mine, too."

lee jihoon

the relationship you had with jihoon was maybe one of the slower ones anyone had seen. it wasn't for lack of attraction at all--anyone who spoke to you or jihoon knew that the two of you had fallen for each other. but for the longest time, both of you grew flustered when it came to skinship in public. the most either of you could handle was holding hands through busy crowds. the moment one of his friends noticed and called attention to it? you separated. it was why soonyoung, seungcheol, and vernon became jihoon's defense squad: if someone noticed that jihoon was holding your hand or arm or anything... one of the three were there to keep them from commenting on it.

and their jobs were harder now that jihoon had brought you on a trip with them all. he wanted you there, you needed a break from work after saving so much vacation time, and having a group of friends present made things a tad easier and also harder. easier because you didn't have to worry about things being awkward with you and jihoon, and harder because holy fuck, jihoon had a lot of friends. you'd ended up attached to vernon out of all of them. something about the guy's laid back nature put you the most at ease (wonwoo was right next on that list, though).

"hey, um..." you had tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, always so careful of other people's boundaries. "i know what you're doing."

jihoon had looked up from his phone, eyes flickering from you to vernon. "huh?" he paused, voice soft, "has he been bothering you--"

"no! nonono--" you waved a hand. "no. um. jihoon. you brought it up last night."

vernon looked between the two of you. "what?"

"you tell the others to knock it off anytime they see us touch at all," jihoon said outright. he was good at that when you were starting to shy away from things. "it's not a big deal. we're adults."

truth be told, it was usually mingyu who brought it up. but the others gave their fair share of loving teasing toward jihoon when they noticed the way he held tightly onto your hand at times, or the loving way he gazed at you. they always took glee in watching his face turn redder and redder. but you... you had always been a different case. jihoon could handle the teasing: he wouldn't stand it for you, even if he knew it was coming as a symbol of their acceptance toward you. you needed to say if it was alright first, not them.

"i just..." you were getting flustered over it. "i appreciate it. i like you guys a lot, but it gets kinda embarrassing when someone like jeonghan teases us like we're teenagers on a first date."

"they're shy," jihoon ran his thumb along the back of your hand. "not a kid."

vernon looked between the two of you, and something clicked. there was this understanding between the two of you that no one else had quite understood yet. all of them knew how jihoon was when it came to skinship: he didn't want to be treated like a child. and you, with your shyness, could be seen in a similar light. maybe that was why the two of you clicked so well. something about yourselves could be misconstrued and used to speak down to you, and both of you recognized that in each other and respected the other's wishes.

"yeah! yeah, i get it," he nodded. "i'm glad you guys have each other."

you averted your gaze, lips forming a subtle smile. "thanks," you said, voice quieter than before.

the two of you separated from vernon after a little more conversation, and he watched as jihoon flexed his fingers before clutching your hand in his own. and when no one was looking, he leaned in, whispering something into your ear before kissing the skin right in front of it.

the two of you were happy. and that was all that mattered to any of them.

lee seokmin

seokmin knew that, as well as you could mesh into social situations now, there was one thing that made you more nervous than anything. and that was when pictures were being taken.

he had his fair share of candids of you saved in his phone for his eyes only (or, well, his eyes and anyone who caught a glance at his home screen--his lockscreen would always be a picture of the two of you). pictures with or taken by seokmin were in this different realm of 'safe,' according to you. hell, pictures taken by you were safe, too. but he'd seen the way you tried to duck out of pictures constantly, always uncomfortable when they came up in mandatory situations.

so when he saw the wedding photographer's assistant making his rounds to grab pictures of the guests during the reception... his hand tightened a little around yours. he leaned in, lips grazing your ear for a moment, "just stay close to me and i'll block what i can, if you want."

you had been confused at first, only to spot the guy a moment later. you glanced down at yourself, brows drawing together. being a distant face in the wedding video during the ceremony had already been a little nerve-wracking, but photos of you... you looked at seokmin, a deer in the headlights. "i..."

you told him once that you didn't like pictures of yourself because you felt out of place in them. it all came from a lack of confidence that you managed to find when you were in control, or when you were seeing yourself through seokmin's lens. he clutched your hand tight, guiding you away from where you'd been sitting together, watching others dance.

"seokmin, wait," you tugged him to a stop as he guided you toward a side door. "you don't have to. i can go by myself--"

he shook his head. "he got pictures of me when i was dancing with minghao earlier," he said. "we can go outside for a minute, okay? you can't avoid all pictures tonight, but..."

you already knew that: hence why you were avoiding these. you were already tired, clothing a little less neat compared to this morning, and all you could think about was how thankful you were for seokmin. you squeezed his hand. "okay," you said softly. "then... lead the way."

(and if mingyu snapped a picture from a window of the two of you walking outside... then you were okay with it. just this once.)

kim mingyu

if there was one thing you were thankful for, it was that mingyu talked about you constantly. you weren't exactly the most outgoing person, always a little too nervous when it came to people you didn't know... and with a silly, loving boyfriend who also happens to be incredibly handsome, some people were all too eager to flirt wih him. as much as it made you a little insecure (and a lot more jealous, to be honest), you trusted mingyu wholeheartedly. mainly because you'd seen the way he reacted when people started flirting.

"i'm married," was his go-to now. neither of you were married (mingyu said he was fine marrying you as much as he was fine not doing it: he was committed to you, period, and didn't need papers to say that if you didn't want them), but the rings you wore were wedding band-adjacent. you had wanted a pair that looked simpler because your work could dirty your hands sometimes (thus you wanted something easy to clean), and mingyu liked the sleek look of these compared to the others.

sometimes you swore he took a little too much joy out of flashing his "wedding band" at people. he told you once that it was because people always backtrack so hard, it's a little amusing.

except when you were standing right next to him. that was when mingyu pulled you into his arms, giggling like a dummy (your dummy, always) as he showed off his ring. "we're married, actually," he would say. "aren't they cute?" he giggled. "they're still so shy after all this time..."

the person had wandered off, face burning with embarrassment, but seungcheol rolled his eyes from where he was boxing up your chocolates. "for how long?"

mingyu smiled, arms still securely around you. "ah... does the time really matter?" he swayed a little, dragging you along with the motion. "we're together for life. that's all that matters now--"

"you suck at lying." seungcheol smiled a little when that earned a snort from you.

mingyu just hugged you tighter. "someone has to do it!" he nuzzled your head. "and i like doing it. did you see their face when i said we were married? it's cute."

seungcheol rolled his eyes. "so i've heard."

"are you saying they aren't cute?" mingyu's voice became more serious now. would he be pouting if you turned to look at his face? you weren't sure, but with mingyu... you felt like it might be a safe bet. "they're right here. don't be mean to them."

"if i called them cute, then i'd never hear the end of it from you."

something about the way they continued to bicker like brothers finally earned a laugh from you, hands holding securely onto mingyu's arms. it stopped him there, and he immediately dove around you to kiss your cheek.

"see?" mingyu said. "they're cute. shyness and all."

xu minghao

"cute."

you looked up from your book, curled up on one end of your couch. minghao was smiling at you, head propped up by his hand as he leaned against the back of the couch. you knew this smile too well now: something inside that cute head of his had stirred awake and decided now was the time to tease you. you'd seen stoic, serious minghao plenty of times, alongside the wittier, snarky version of your boyfriend you had fallen for after he made one snappy comment back at one of his friends... but playful, silly minghao would always be your favorite flavor of him. except for when 'silly, playful' meant complimenting you. minghao knew compliments were your weakness in life.

"hm?" you sounded, hoping that maybe you heard him wrong. "did you say something."

"you heard me." that same smile greeted you now. "you're cute."

shit. shit. this was already a losing battle as you shrink down against the couch, the hood of your hoodie being dragged up. "hao... don't."

"hm?" he reached out, pushing your book out of the way--just enough that he could see your face. "don't what? tell the truth? you know i think you're cute, why shouldn't i say it?"

"it's embarrassing." you looked away.

"we're the only ones here, my love." your heart rate spiked for a moment: not the 'my love'. he knew what those words did to you. your ears were burning now, and you continued to hide yourself in your hoodie.

"still..." you already knew he had won this, whatever it was. you shoved your bookmark into your book, setting it aside as you continued to hide, tugging at the drawstring from your hood to close it around you. your voice grew higher as you finally confessed, "you're cuter."

"we're not talking about me right now," he had begun to move in. "you're just proving me right, you know. you're cute." he nudged your knees aside as he propped himself up over you.

this man was going to be the death of you.

he tugged the hood away from your face, string coming loose with ease. "see?" he poked the tip of your nose. "cute. it's a fact."

all too easily, you gave in when he wrapped his arms around you, tugging you so that you could be closer to you. he folded himself around you, burying his face in your neck as he breathed out a happy sigh.

"is something up?" you asked quietly. "i mean--i don't, up, i don't mind the sappy stuff. just..."

"i'm fine," he pecked your neck, nose grazing against the underside of your jaw. "just needed to love you louder today." he paused, raising his gaze to meet yours as he leaned around you. "is that okay?"

with a sigh, you settled into his arms. "yeah," you mumbled. "always okay. thank you for asking."

boo seungkwan

this was mortifying. what if you died right here? would that be better than witnessing this? chan had an arm around you while vernon was trying to pull seungkwan back. you just wanted one nice night with your boyfriend and his friends, and now seungkwan was very loudly arguing with someone who had said something not-so-nice about you relying on him so much. you were fine when it was just the four of you, but seungkwan knew you. he knew you struggled with being heard: hence why he reiterated your request on your behalf.

"they're my partner and i'm not going to let you speak about them like that!" he balled his fists. "just because they won't complain doesn't mean you can insult them to their face!"

"seungkwan," vernon pulled his arm harder. "dude. we're gonna get kicked out."

"fine!" he said, looking back at vernon. "i don't care! he was rude to them and made fun of them--they don't get to insult anyone i love like that!"

"seungkwan," you called out, finally getting his attention. you shook your head. "it's okay. let's just go."

he stole one last glance at the asshole he'd been yelling at, before taking a breath. seungkwan pulled away from vernon, making his way over to you as he took your hand. the four of you left, heading back outside as seungkwan immediately rounded to face you once you were far enough away from the place. he waved for the other two to go on--he just needed to speak to you alone. seungkwan took your hands, squeezing them gently.

"are you okay? did i ruin our night?" he frowned, pausing as he tugged at your sleeve to fix it back into place. "i would have let it go if he didn't make fun of you."

"it's okay," you said. "i'm sorry you always have to do this for me."

he blinked. "hm?" he looked back. "that place was busy. vernon didn't hear you, so i made sure your request got across." he paused, realization hitting him. "not that it matters now..."

"you guys can go back without me," you said, pulling your hands free. "i'm gonna go home."

"but--" he stepped forward. "you don't have to. we can go somewhere else." he paused for a moment. "i'm sorry i started yelling at him. i..." he took a deep breath. "i love you, and i don't care that you get shy or nervous or whatever you want to call it. i'm happy to talk for both of us if that's what you need me to do." he paused. "do you really want to go home?"

you nodded. "a little."

"then i'll go with you," he took your hand. "we'll come back out another night."

you squeezed his hand. "seungkwan?" you interlaced your fingers with his. "thanks for having my back."

"thank you for having mine," he pecked your cheek. "i'll always be here."

chwe vernon

the moment you turned the corner, vernon immediately straightened up, all signs of 'illness' seeming to disappear entirely. it made you slow to a stop, hand leaving his as you stare at him. was... was that why he was so insistent on not taking a cab home? he'd said the night air might help if you walked a little, but...

"alright. where to?" he turned, phone already in hand. "there's that dessert place you like. wait, did you eat? we could grab something else instead--"

"i thought you were sick." you sounded dumbfounded, and vernon blinked.

"you wanted to get out of there." a true fact, but you hadn't said it to vernon yet. "oh, dude. you get this look on your face." he made his way over to you. "like... you looked miserable. so i figured i'd take one for the team and pretend i'm sick so you wouldn't have to come up with an excuse again."

your cats could only get sick so many times without people wondering if something was wrong with them, after all.

you frowned. "you didn't have to do that."

"i kinda did." he took your hands. "like... i saw the look on your face. the 'please stop asking me about work, and my relationship, and my life, i'm going to pass out' face. remember that work thing you took me to? you did that face there, too."

maybe you loved this man more than anything.

"so... where do you wanna go? we could go back to my place. i've got popcorn, we could steal seungcheol's netflix account again, watch something dumb."

it earned a giggle from you. "he knows, right?"

"you haven't seen the new profile he made last week." he pulled you back with him, letting you follow his steps, "named it freeloaders. we're not the only ones using it, y'know."

you giggled again. between vernon, mingyu, and wonwoo... you weren't surprised seungcheol knew the netflix account was getting used by more than just him. they shared accounts, after all. he was using vernon's disney plus account often enough, mainly to get to hulu.

"just say the word if you ever want me to make up something, by the way," he squeezed your hand. "i know you get bad with people sometimes. let me handle it, alright?"

at least you had vernon in your life to make it all easer.

lee chan

chan chuckled. "it's okay," he said as he felt you bury your face in his neck. "i don't think he'll think anything of it."

chan was beyond used to seeing you flustered over the silliest little things. while he replayed his own slip-ups later on, you wore your emotions plain on your face after finishing a phone call with your close friend (and the guy who introduced you to chan), seungcheol. you'd slipped up and said an innocent 'love you!' to him, something chan always saw coming considering you'd long-since confessed that he felt like family to you. he saw the regret on your face for saying it so casually to a friend when it took you forever to say it to chan, and now he was fighting back the urge to laugh as you whined.

"he's never gonna let me live it down."

chan patted your back gently, chuckling a little now. seungcheol definitely wouldn't let it go--at least not to chan. "you're close friends! friends can say they love each other."

"i know, but..." you squeezed your eyes shut. "it's embarrassing. he didn't even say anything back and--and you know how cheol is."

that he did. chan heard your phone chime, and reached for it to steal a quick look... only to see seungcheol had texted you back: CALL ME BACK >:(

"baby?" he held up your phone, waving it in front of your face. "he's waiting."

"nooooooo," you whined again. "he's gonna make fun of me."

your phone began to ring. chan didn't hesitate to answer it, putting seungcheol on speaker. "they're dying, cheol."

"they didn't let me say it back!"

you buried your face further into chan's neck. of course seungcheol took it in stride--and of course his real problem was that you didn't give him the chance to say it back. chan let out a snort, hand curling around the back of your head as he gave it a quick pat.

"you're killing them still. you know how they get with affection."

you knew seungcheol was rolling his eyes with that annoyed sigh he let out. "they're like family. i wasn't going to be mad until they hung up on me before i could say it."

the affection truly was killing you. chan had seen you bury your face in his neck before, always too embarrassed to just accept the sweet words of anyone--especially himself. he called you one night to drunkenly ramble about his affections for you, and immediately apologized when you broke your favorite mug while you were mentally malfunctioning. even now, he felt the way you grabbed at his shirt, face burning hot with embarrassment. this was the reason why he could never arrange a surprise party for you: you might pass out if so many people broadcast their love for you at once.

"so?" seungcheol said, and you could hear someone laughing in the background. mingyu for sure, and someone else. "ignore them."

"love you, cheol," you mumbled. "sorry i hung up earlier."

your apology was met with a warm chuckle. "it's okay. let me know when you're coming over for dinner again," he said, and then paused for a second, "bring your boyfriend, too."

chan gasped in mock offense, as though he hadn't been sitting there the entire time. he hung up the call, and immediately wrapped his arms around you. "you love me more, right?" he teased, just to see that cute pout on your face. he'll kiss it soon, too.

you averted your gaze, face burning hot now. first cheol, now chan? "you know i do."

"say it." he poked your side, just to watch you squirm. "or else."

you could feel the way his fingers were starting to tickle your sides. "chan!"

all too easily, he'd made you forget about your nervous blunder as he dove forward to kiss you amidst your giggles. "say it!"

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunny

[rememberwren]

A Complete Set (Whatever That Means) || 2

A continuation of Skin Deep. Part one of this sequel is here.

About this: previous warnings apply, oral sex (f receiving), alcohol, gross imperfections, not a single nipple unfortunately, an eyebrow though. For @/moody-alcoholic, I hope this manages to quench even the tiniest portion of your thirst. 1 more part left. 7k

-

“Simon?” 

“Hm.” 

“Are you seeing anybody else?” 

Simon looks up at you. His hair is getting long, falling over his forehead and looking nearly brunet in the dim lighting. You don’t think he’s cut it since the two of you have started dating. 

He’s been drawing for half the night, hunched over with the sketchpad in his lap, doing terrible things to his own posture and blocking his own lighting all at once. When he answers you, it’s in that dry tone that lets you know he thinks you’ve said something funny or clever: “No.” 

A knot in your chest loosens. It’s hard to believe you worried over such a question for so long just to receive such a simple, earnest answer. He goes back to sketching. 

You content yourself with this and stretch your legs out until your toes touch his thigh at the other end of the sofa. His mouth twitches, but he keeps working. 

-

Six months pass, and how do you celebrate? You climb topless onto Simon’s lap, eager and anxious in equal measure. Your nipple piercing had stopped hurting months ago (save for the time you had snagged it on a cable knit sweater and nearly seen Jesus), but you had read online that piercings heal from the outside inward, and as such you had made every attempt possible to leave the thing alone even when all you wanted to do was play with it. 

In his own way of celebrating, Simon had bought you your first new barbell: a black one with black gemmed studs at each end. You couldn’t help but notice that it looked similar to his, only with a more delicate, feminine touch.

“Will you change it for me?” you ask him. Your hands are shaking.

“Alright. Let me wash my hands.” He shifts you off of his lap and disappears into the bathroom where you hear the faucet turn on. You cross your arms over your breasts, feeling silly being half naked without Simon in the room. Your foot bounces impatiently, but you know that if cleanliness were a love language, it would likely be Simon’s. 

Not that he had told you he loved you—nor had you told him. You had promised yourself that you would wait until he said it first (the only sure-fire way to avoid coming across as overeager and scaring him off). Still, there were a thousand ways in a day that Simon made you feel as if he loved you: the way he would go out to start your car in the wintery mornings when your remote start stopped working; the way he always offered you the first bite of his food if you weren’t sharing a meal; the way he’d crack open your drinks before handing them to you. Was it wrong of you to try to read between the lines? 

Simon comes back and tugs you onto his lap again. His hands look huge compared to the jewelry through your breast as he dexterously works the ball free from the barbell. He has the hands of a surgeon: steady and calm. You close your eyes in anticipation of pain, but there is none; it just feels alien, sensitive whenever his calloused fingers brush over your pebbled nipple, even as he removes the barbell itself. 

Taking the sanitized jewelry, he carefully puts it in and screws the stud in place. 

“That didn’t hurt at all,” you say, reaching down to tug softly on the barbell. Still, no pain. 

“Great,” he says, eyes on your breasts. He grips your hips. “Up, now. C’mon, up.” 

He tugs you up onto your knees so that you’re the perfect height for him to take your nipple into his burning mouth. You shiver, one hand gripping his shoulder and the other burying itself in his hair, gripping softly to keep his mouth in place. If you had worried that getting the piercing would make you less sensitive, you were wrong. He tugs on the jewelry gently with his fucking teeth and God, holy shit, fucking hell, definitely not less sensitive.

“Been waiting to do this,” he says, nuzzling the skin between your breasts as he gives you a moment to catch your breath. “Six months of hell.” 

“Yeah?” You pant lamely, chest heaving. 

He hums. His thumbs stroke beneath your breasts along the sternum tattoo he gave you—a favorite part of you for him to touch—as his lips find your nipple again, lashing softly with his tongue. His hands have begun to tremble where they slide down the curves of your sides and to your hips, touch soft and worshipful as he brings you down to rest your weight against the hard line of his cock still confined in his jeans. The shaking says more than a thousand of his words ever could. 

“I want you,” he mutters. “Say yes.” 

“Yes, God, yes.”

Simon guides you off of his lap, kneeling down into the space between the couch and the coffee table. He pushes the table backwards with a little more force than is necessary when there isn’t enough room for his long legs and accidentally sends a cup full of charcoal pencils tipping over onto the carpet. You snort with laughter. He peels your leggings and panties off and drags you to the edge of the couch, pressing your thighs open wide. 

Getting head from partners in the past had been a fraught, mostly unenjoyable experience. Even your first few times with Simon had been tense, with him quickly moving on to something else after noticing your inability to relax. A less eager man might have counted his blessings and moved on, but Simon’s gentle persistence had gone a long way toward reassuring you that he truly wanted to please you this way. It had gone a long way toward reassuring you that you could let him. 

He spreads you apart, thumbs slipping against your slick folds, heated gaze pinpointed on your most intimate parts before he leans in and licks a broad stripe over your entrance and up to your clit. You shut your eyes (and cover your face for good measure). His warm breath fans against your pussy as he laughs. He could be mean and pull your hands away, but he lets you hide this way and you are grateful for it. 

Simon takes his time mapping each part of you with his mouth, nose brushing your clit whenever he doesn’t have his lips sealed over it. Your thighs shake, toes curled, as he pulls whines and choked gasps from your throat. 

You peek through your fingers when you feel him shifting beneath you to find that he’s worked his cock from his jeans and is jerking off, only noticeable by the tell-tale rhythmic motion of his arm against your calf. 

“Jesus, Simon,” you whine. 

He makes a little sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, shifting on his knees to change the angle of his mouth against you. Something about him so unashamedly enjoying himself makes it easier for you to enjoy yourself too, to let your hands come away from your face and thread them through his hair. 

“Can we fuck?” you breathe, aching inside deep where his tongue can’t reach. 

He nods against you and kneels up to kiss you. You still aren’t used to the taste of yourself in his mouth, but it’s growing less foreign—and nothing could ever make you turn away from one of Simon’s kisses. 

He pulls you off the couch onto your knees, his legs spread to either side of your own. You arch your back, feeling his cock brush against the back of your thighs. Two of his thick fingers slip inside you, testing your give and your wetness. He twists them; turns to hook them against that soft, vulnerable spot inside you that makes your legs shake. Simon works a third finger into you, a stretch that your body struggled to take before but which it accepts eagerly now, the sting welcome and familiar.

“Fuck. I need a condom,” he rasps. 

“Just pull out,” you say. 

You can sense him rolling his eyes. Your fondness for the (dangerous) pull-out method had been formally noted by him and thus far rejected at every turn. 

“Don’t insult me,” he mutters. He grabs your hand and guides it between your own legs. “Be good and keep yourself warm. I’ll be right back.”

He’s barely gone long enough for you to stroke your fingers through your folds, but when he returns (flashing the intact condom package at you like he always does), he watches you for an endless, lingering moment.

“I like that,” he says at last, taking his spot behind you again, condom in place. 

“Like what?”

“Watching you touch yourself.” The head of his cock nudges your entrance. He finds the right angle and slips inside you, stretching your walls to make room for himself. You groan, your fingers digging into the couch cushion. It stings a little, right towards the end, but he just softly saws himself in and out of your pussy, soothing the ache with pleasure. His words go completely over your head. 

He reaches so deep inside you, like with his every thrust his cock bullies the air out of your lungs. The slick sounds are lewd, keeping time with your moans and sighs as his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, manhandling you further onto the couch to the perfect height for him to fuck into you, your knees barely skimming the carpet.  

Your hand ends up crushed between your pelvis and the couch. You let your fingers find your clit and the touch reminds your body of how close it is, that coil deep in your belly stretched tight and ready to release. Your fingers trail down to where his cock pistons in and out of you, and at your touch he groans, slows to a smooth drag, his length slippery with your own arousal. 

“Touch yourself, not me,” he chides, his voice rough. “I’m close enough.” 

“I’m close enough,” you say.

He flops against your back, nearly crushing you with his weight to hook his chin over your shoulder and ask: “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

You can barely draw in the breath to laugh, and it’s only worse when you cum. You bury your face into the couch cushions, giggling, fingers rubbing a gentle, hectic rhythm against your clit as your pussy spasms around him. He snorts at your laughter, a soft quiet exhale against the back of your neck. Then he cums, his thrusts sloppy and hard, turning his head at the last moment to bite your shoulder lazily. 

“Sex makes you so weird,” you pant. Your face hurts from smiling. 

“You like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He ties off the condom and throws it away. The two of you sit naked on the couch together, curled up. It’s a little alien to be this open about your body with someone and to have them be so open about their body in return, but it’s a good strangeness. So much about loving Simon is. 

“I need to get the other one pierced now,” you mention, toying with his unpierced nipple. “Have to complete the set.”

“I never did.”

“You’re incomplete. Don’t you know?” 

He snorts. “I feel quite fulfilled, thanks.” 

“Please Simon?” you ask. “I want to.”

“Don’t ever say please. I’ll text Soap in the morning,” Simon says, trailing his fingers up and down the length of your arm, making goosebumps appear. 

You hesitate. Should you tell him what you’d been thinking about for the last several months? Would it offend him to know that you didn’t want to go to Johnny for any more piercings? 

Whether it offended him or not, your pride couldn’t rest easily going back to the tiny room behind the curtain in Skin Deep. While there had been only a few other tense interactions between you and Johnny since Simon’s birthday (and usually he seemed to favor outright ignoring your existence), the situation had not improved. 

“Simon—I think I’d rather go somewhere else for my other nipple. To someone other than Johnny, I mean.” 

Simon frowns. “What’d Johnny do.” 

He phrases it like that—more of a statement and less of a question, immediately assuming that Johnny is at fault. 

“It’s just—it’s like I said on your birthday. He doesn’t like me much.” 

Simon turns to look you in the eye. When your gaze tries to skirt away, he lets out an irritated breath through his nose—but doesn’t fight you. Simon always lets you run. Maybe because he knows his legs are long enough to catch you. “You really feel like that?” 

“You’ve never noticed?” 

“Thought it was in my head,” he mutters. Then he says the most dreaded words he possibly could: “I’ll talk to him.” 

“No!” you nearly shout. You struggle to lower your voice to something more appropriate for indoors, your heart tap-dancing to an anxious beat inside your chest. Just trying to picture Johnny’s irritated expression at any of Simon’s potential efforts to talk to him made your stomach turn over. “I mean—don’t. Really. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not. I need you two to get along. You and Johnny—you’re the most important people in my life,” he says baldly. His honesty does something to your lungs—empties them, crushes them. You only just realize the position that you’re putting Simon in, and it makes you feel about two inches tall. How could you let your petty problems with Johnny potentially get in the way of their longtime friendship? Their brotherhood?

“I’m begging you, Simon,” you plead. “Promise me you won’t talk to him. Just, give me more time to get to know him or something.” 

“Can't promise that.” He stands up and stretches, joints popping as you stare at him, your stomach tearing itself to pieces at this knowledge. This is not how this conversation was meant to end. But he disappears into the bedroom before you can gather your wits enough to say another word.

-

There is nothing like sleeping beside Simon, his arm beneath your head, your body turned and cradled against his side, a leg thrown over his thighs. His heart is as slow and steady as his breaths, his calloused thumb tracing a line back and forth on your naked side, a line which grows slower and slower as he drifts closer to sleep. 

You ruin it like this: “Simon?” 

“Hm.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“If you got��a.” 

“On your birthday, you said that women meant for you sometimes ended up being Johnny’s. What did you mean?” 

He’s quiet for so long that you mistake him for falling asleep. You’ve resigned yourself to asking him another night when he speaks, his speech is slow and thoughtful, like it is hard to put it into words. 

“When Soap and I are in a room together with women, I’m like a ghost. He’s a fucking human being. Flesh and blood. Alive. People want to talk to him, to know him, to laugh with him, to have a drink with him. I’m not like that. I haven’t ever been like that. More than once Johnny would try to get me together with a woman who would end up falling for him instead. Eventually I convinced him to stop trying.” 

“Were you jealous?” 

He makes an ambiguous sound. “It’s hard to be jealous of Soap.” 

“Not impossible, though.” 

He rolls you over onto your back, coming to rest over you, your legs a tangled mess beneath the sheets. The darkness lengthens the shadows of his eyes, but you can still feel his gaze, tangible as any touch. He braces himself on his elbows over you and lets his forehead rest against your own. “I just wanted someone who was mine,” he says. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue, those words that are building inside of you and growing harder to withhold by the day. But you say it like this and hope he can translate: “I’m yours.” 

He ducks his head and kisses you. 

-

In the morning, Simon has slipped a piece of paper just beneath the edge of your mug of tea. When you look at it, written in charcoal pencil is DARCELINA: Dream City Tattoos and Piercings XXX-XXXX. 

-

It’s one for the record books: the rain. Thick pregnant clouds carry more than eight inches of rain to your city in the course of a day. The last time it rained so much was apparently during the Civil War era. The city floods, including the basement of your apartment building, which leads to a building-wide power outage. 

Simon has you pack a suitcase, junk the majority of your refrigerator and freezer, and come stay with him. You’re giddy, feeling like it’s a semi-permanent sleepover when he gets the call that Skin Deep has flooded as well. 

Then things take a turn for the worse. Simon is gone for nearly 36 hours straight making endless calls to attempt to clear the water and begin repairs, and sometime in the midst of that, the fight with Johnny happens. 

It’s an ugly one. 

Simon comes home in the foulest mood you’ve ever seen him in. It turns him positively stony as he moves around the apartment making himself a hasty meal, avoiding your eyes every chance he gets. After he eats, he sits heavily on the sofa, pulls out his sketchpad, and trashes no fewer than six entire pages before you get the nerve to ask him what’s wrong. 

“Soap,” he mutters, crumpling a paper in one strong, dextrous hand. He throws it toward the small garbage can beside the telly and misses. “He’s looking for other locations to pierce at.”

“Is the building that bad?” you ask. “You guys will have to find a new place?”

“Soap is looking for a new place. One without me.”

You gape, the shock of this news reaching all the way to the core of your being. 

“You don’t think it’s because of—?” Me. You can’t even finish the sentence, the thought upsets you so much. You tuck your legs beneath you on the couch, curling up, seeking to become small and harmless as grief and horror wash over you in wave after wave. 

“This is my fault. I tried to talk to him but he’s so fucking—he gets under my goddamn skin like he was born to do it.” Simon pauses heavily, before adding: “I need to tell you something about the night Soap pierced me.” 

Story time. Alright. You uncurl your legs, choosing to sit with them criss-crossed, your body turned toward him, giving Simon your entire attention. It’s been months since you found out that Johnny had been the one to pierce Simon, but you had been no closer to getting the story from either of them. Your curiosity was a dangerous, corrosive thing, eating away at your insides. 

“I’m listening,” you say, hoping you don’t look as eager as you feel. 

Simon looks to be at a loss for words, running his tongue along the sharp edge of his teeth. When he speaks, it’s hardly the lengthy story you had been anticipating: “We fucked.”

You blink. “You and—Johnny?”

Simon sighs and shrugs a shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were…” Simon stares, waiting for you to finish your sentence. “…interested in men.”

“You are. Why can’t I be?”

You feel a chilly pang of horror, like someone has slipped a dagger between your ribs. You rush to assure him: “You can! You—“

Simon’s mouth twitches as he rubs at the crease of one eye, and your panic fades. He mumbles: “I’m just fucking with you.”

“So you’re bisexual.”

“I’m… I don’t fucking know. I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to. I never named it.”

“Okay,” you say gently. “We don’t have to. But what does that have to do with now?”

“The day after we—y’know. Fucked. I told him it was a one time thing. Maybe it’s in my head,” says Simon, frowning. “Maybe I’m crazy. But sometimes he looks at me or says something to me and it makes me think it’s not over. Not for him.”

“Is it really over,” you ask, “for you?”

Simon looks at you, quiet. He says: “I want you.”

And you are so relieved by the obvious honesty in his answer that it never crosses your mind to think that’s not what you asked. 

-

Simon is uptown at a café holding consultations while Johnny directs cleanup efforts at the shop, and you think that now’s the perfect chance. 

Your hands shake against the steering wheel the whole drive there, nerves less like butterflies and more like great winged moths in your belly. A part of you says that this is a mistake, you should turn back and let Simon and Johnny work it out on their own. But another part of you feels personally responsible—even if Simon says you aren’t. All your life you have taken things too personally, shouldered burdens which were not your own, bent over backwards to solve problems that weren’t yours to solve. If there was any chance that you could resolve this, you would put your pride on the line to do it. 

You park alongside the street and are thrilled to find the front door unlocked. The entire place smells musty, like a basement. The wooden floors have warped a little under your tentative steps, announcing your presence sooner than you’d like. 

Johnny sits in the chair where Simon tattoos clients. Sunlight streams in through the blinds and lights him up like some kind of punk-rock angel, his mohawk freshly clipped, dark finger nail polish chipping. Sometime between now and the last time you’ve seen him, he’s pierced his eyebrow: a black barbell with studs that reminds you a little too much of the one through your nipple (and Simon’s. Was that intentional? Did Johnny pick jewelry to match Simon’s? To match yours? For some reason just the thought makes your nipples tighten). In his hands is one of Simon’s sketchpads, and he’s flipping through it leisurely. 

He glances up toward the sound of your footsteps. 

“If you’re here about the water—“ his words die out on his pierced tongue as he stares at you, gobsmacked by your appearance. 

“Hey,” you say lamely. 

“Where’s Simon?” he asks, eyes flickering toward the protective spot where Simon usually hovers just over your shoulder. “He said he wouldn’t be in today.”  

“He’s not. It’s just me. I thought maybe we could talk.”

Johnny openly grimaces. He shuts Simon’s sketchpad and sets it down (hopefully where he found it). Standing from the chair, he takes a few casual steps away from you, clearly heading towards the curtain that leads to the back of the shop. “Really cannot think of anything we have to talk about.”

You square your shoulders, fighting down that instinctive urge to make yourself smaller, to give in and be manageable. “I think we do.” 

“You should go.” 

“Not until we work this out.” 

“There isn’t any this, alright, just—does Simon even know you’re here?” Something guilty must splash across your face because Johnny gives a mirthless laugh, reaching up to palm at his eyes. “Tha’s great. Just great. Could you be more incriminating?” 

“Incriminating—? Look, Simon told me about the night you pierced him.”

“Oh he did, did he?” Johnny says flippantly. 

“About how you two slept together.” 

Now that stops Johnny in his tracks. It’s clear that he didn’t expect Simon to really tell you about that night all those years ago. He looks at you with a fresh caution, waiting to see how exactly you’ve taken this news—what you plan to do with it. “Aye, then. I guess he did.” 

“I’m not trying to take him away from you.” 

Johnny makes a derisive sound. His words are well-rehearsed, like he has said them to himself a hundred-hundred times: “Cannot take what isn’t mine.” 

“He was your friend first,” you say, aiming for conciliatory and gentle the same way you might approach a feral animal. Johnny stares at you with flat, suspicious eyes. They’re so fucking blue—so different from Simon’s own dark ochre ones. “He told me that you’re one of the most important people in his life.” 

Johnny’s face softens. He says: “You shouldn’t tell me that. He wouldn’t.” 

“He’s not always good with words. Please don’t leave the shop, Johnny. I think it would break Simon’s heart.”

“I didn’t know he had a heart to break,” Johnny mutters. He leans against the wall beside the curtain and sighs, lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll think about it. Now out. You shouldn’t be breathin’ in this air.” 

Johnny ushers you to the door, hand hovering just above your back, careful not to touch you. Once you’re out on the street, he shuts the door and locks it audibly. Then he leans in and huffs a heated breath beneath the “NO WALK INS” sign. In the fog, he adds: “No GFs!”

You flip him off. 

He flips you off. 

On the way back to your car, you find yourself smiling. You force yourself to scowl. It’s a more appropriate expression. Giving one last glance back toward Skin Deep, you find him still standing there, watching. 

Likely just to make sure you’re really leaving. 

-

Not long after you are moved back into your apartment, you find that Simon stops sleeping. 

You’re ashamed to say that it takes you a while to notice; nothing changes on your end of things. Anytime you are sleeping over, he lays down with you, tugs you up against his chest, and holds you for ages, his body still and breathing even. But one night you wake to a cool, empty bed. And later in the week, it happens again. Until more often than not you realize that any moment when you expect Simon to be sleeping, he isn’t. 

Usually you find him sketching, shadows like charcoal smudged beneath his eyes. He doesn’t meet your gaze and tells you to go back to bed, that he’ll be there soon. Sometimes he even does come to lay back down beside you—but only long enough for you to convince him that you have fallen asleep again. Then he is shifting away from you, disappearing into the other room, shutting the bedroom with the quietest click behind him. 

You know that he’s busy. His schedule has been booked—and with deposits nonrefundable, people more often than not kept their appointments. He’s been working with a client on mock ups for a sleeve, and the various pieces and the way they all come together around the contours of the person’s body are very delicate. Johnny’s threat to find a new job doesn’t help, either. Have they talked and resolved things yet? Simon never says so. 

You can’t imagine the stress that he is under, and you’d do anything to be able to shoulder a fraction of it for him. 

That’s how you end up with drunk Johnny in your car. 

It starts with Simon falling asleep before you—for once. You can tell he is well and truly asleep by the sheer weight of his arm over you, the soft snores that he gives out against the nape of your neck. After so many nights of sleeplessness, his body has finally given in. You’re about to slip off to sleep yourself when the buzzing of a phone startles you back into wakefulness. 

Not your phone—Simon’s phone. And it goes off again. And again. And again. Who the hell could be sending so many messages at midnight?

You know you should leave it alone—if it was urgent, they would likely call—but curiosity gets the better of you. Carefully you slip out from under Simon’s arm. It’s a testament to his sheer exhaustion that he doesn’t wake as you jostle him. In sleep, he looks painfully young and relaxed, and it makes you long to reach out and brush back his hair that has fallen onto his forehead. But not at the risk of waking him. 

Sure that all you are planning to do is shut Simon’s phone off so that he can get some restful sleep, you are surprised to see that Simon has his text notifications visible on the homescreen, so all it takes is a simple tap to open them up. 

Johnny. All Johnny. 

Ghost. 

Ghost

Are you uo? 

Up* fuck my fingers 

I need a ride home

Simon

I’m at that bar on… The text is cut off. To see more, you would have to open his phone. So Johnny is stuck at some bar, drunk more than likely. Well good riddance, you think to yourself, the hurtful way he treated you still very much fresh in your brain. But then you remember your talk at Skin Deep, and your traitorous heart softens. Could you really just put the phone back now and pretend you hadn’t seen the messages?

Simon doesn’t even have a password; that’s how much he trusts you. Would he still trust you after this, if he knew that you had gone through his phone, even if it was for a good cause? 

Making a spur of the moment decision, you could only hope so. Your conscience wouldn’t let you wake Simon, and as much as you disliked him, it couldn’t let you leave Johnny stranded at some bar either. 

You open his phone as quickly as you can, swiping so that it goes straight to Johnny’s texts and nowhere else. The name of the bar is right there, and you scramble for your own phone to type it down in Google Maps. He’s not far. Probably would be within walking distance, if he weren’t drunk. You could be there and back before Simon ever knew you were gone—you hoped. 

As Simon, you send back to Johnny a simple OMW. 

There is no hint of spring in the frigid March air as you slip outside into your car. The parking lot is dim and quiet, and traffic is minimal as you follow the GPS on your phone to Johnny’s location. The pub nightlife spills out onto the pavement and you struggle to find a place to park, grimacing at the knowledge that you will have to get out of the car and go inside to find Johnny, considering you see him nowhere on the street. Leaving the warmth of your car is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, especially in just a thin tank-top and a pair of leggings. Gathering your coat more tightly around yourself, you rush out of the car and through the people on the sidewalk and into the warmth of the pub. 

You keep your eyes peeled for Johnny, but can’t spot his silly haircut anywhere. What if he’s gotten a ride home from someone else? What if he’s decided to walk, or found someone to go home with? You shift up onto your toes, looking over everyone in the bar when you spot him in the corner at a table with a few other men. 

Johnny doesn’t even recognize you at first—either a testament to how unexpected your sudden appearance is or how drunk he is based on how difficult it is for his eyes to focus on you. When he realizes who you are, his mouth drops. He points. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, accent so thick and slurred that you can barely understand him. 

“Picking you up. You said you needed a ride.”

“Aye but not from—oh, Jesus make me still. Yer not wearing a bra, are you?” 

All the men at the table turn to gape. You snatch the sides of your jacket closed where they had loosely fallen open, your face flushing with warmth. The table roars with laughter, but Johnny in his drunkenness doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. 

“That was mine!” Johnny shouts, elbowing the man next to him. “Did you see that? That was my work!”

“We get it, bruv,” the guy says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s no ten.” 

“What’d you fuckin’ say?”

The table laughs. 

Johnny grabs a fistful of the guy’s shirt and drags him nearly clean out of his seat. “I said, What’d you fucking say about her?”

The table stops laughing. Johnny cuts an impressive figure even when drunk; he’s easily the largest guy of the group. Your stomach drops and lands somewhere between your shoes. This is not going to plan at all. Reaching out, you try to insert yourself physically between the two of them but can only wrap your fingers around Johnny’s wrist, feeling the strength poised in the tendons. 

“Johnny,” you say, loudly to be heard over the sounds of the pub. “Come on. Let’s go, yeah? Simon…Simon’s out in the car.” 

“Simon?” Johnny let’s go of the guy’s shirt, his bad mood evaporating as quickly as it had manifested. He nudges his way out from behind the table, all politeness. Once free, he stumbles into a woman in a slinky dress who gives him a look that could melt glass. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize to her, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s waist and doing your best to keep him steady. “He’s an idiot, and he’s drunk. You look amazing by the way—“

“Control your boyfriend,” she snaps. 

“I will,” you promise, guiding Johnny away from her and into the crowd. 

His nose brushes the shell of your ear, breath fanning across your neck as he says with a laugh in his voice: “I’m not yer boyfriend.” 

You flush. “Thanks for letting me know, Johnny. I had no clue.” 

He says something back, some Scottish phrase, his accent so thick you couldn’t understand the words even if you knew them. 

“English, please,” you mutter. 

“Je-sus,” he groans, dragging the words out into multiple syllables. He takes your chin in his hand and squeezes your cheeks a little. “You’re just like him. ‘English, MacTavish’. Ha!”

You bat his hand away. 

“He’s been rubbing off on you,” Johnny mutters, laughing a little. Beneath his breath (though far more loudly than he likely intends), he adds: “In more ways than one, I imagine.”

Your face goes hot. “Johnny, stop talking.” 

The two of you exit the pub out into the cool night air. It seems to sober Johnny some, as he takes in deep, gulping breaths. He walks a little steadier as the two of you cross the street, and by the time you’ve made it to your car, he has shrugged you off altogether (even if he is still a little unstable on his feet). He stands outside the car for a moment before opening one of the rear doors. 

“What are you doing?”

“Rather sit back here.” 

“I’m not your cabbie.”

“Strange manner of dress if you were,” he says snidely, slipping into the backseat. 

In the driver’s seat, you let yourself have a small breakdown. You grip the wheel tightly, taking a few deep breaths of your own, searching for inner peace. You thought that you and Johnny had a tentative truce after that day at Skin Deep, but clearly he is still holding some grudge. Your search for peace turns up empty. 

“Sorry I lied about Simon being here. I just really needed you to leave the pub,” you explain politely. 

“Knew you were lying,” Johnny says from the darkness of the backseat. He sounds remarkably like Simon: brooding and irritable. “He’s got no idea you’re here, does he? He’d never let you come alone.” 

You frown. “No. He doesn’t. He’s sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him.” 

“Nightmares?” 

“Huh?” 

Johnny leans forward. You glance at him in the rear view mirror. “I said, Has he been having more nightmares?” 

You didn’t know anything about Simon having nightmares. That sour feeling in your belly was back, the one that made you feel like you would never truly know Simon, not the way his friends did. 

“No,” you say, a little defensive. “He’s been working on this sleeve for a client. Staying up way too late to finish it on time.” 

“Aye. Nightmares. Anything else is just an excuse he’s telling himself—and you.” 

Done with the conversation, you turn the key in the ignition and pull out into the street. “What’s your address?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“Left my keys at the bar.” 

“Goddamnit.” 

You turn towards Simon’s apartment. “Then you’re staying with us—with Simon. You can sleep on his couch and get your keys in the morning; I’m sure he won’t care.” 

“Are you staying there?” 

“Yes.” 

Johnny mutters something under his breath. You consider yourself lucky not to have heard it. For a while, the two of you drive in silence. Then Johnny says: 

“You never came for your second nipple.” 

“It’s only just been six months.” 

“So you’re due for an appointment then, aren’t you?” 

You steel yourself, gripping the wheel tightly at ten-and-two. “Actually, I’m going to someone else.”

Johnny’s seatbelt unclicks. He hovers at your shoulder bringing with him burning warmth and the scent of whisky. When he talks, his breath brushes your neck, fury tangible in every syllable. “Who is it? Who the hell is he taking you to? Darcelina? Astrid? Dusty? Whoever it is, consider the appointment canceled. No one is piercing you but me.”

“You don’t get that privilege,” you grit out between your teeth. “Not anymore, not after the way you’ve treated me!”

“Oh, did I offend you?” he breathes, clutching one hand at his breast. “Not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on?” 

“Fuck you, Soap! I wanted to be friends.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly. Suddenly the road goes blurry. You blink rapidly, forcing yourself to calm down—you’re driving for fuck’s sake. You swallow past the lump in your throat, the silence interrupted by rustling as Johnny leans forward again in the backseat, trying to get a look at your face in the passing streetlights. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans. “Are you crying?”

“No!”

“You are. Fuckin’—pull over, before you get us killed.” 

Keen embarrassment only has your eyes watering more, until you have no choice but to do as he asks, pulling over to hastily parallel park and throw on your hazard lights. You let your elbows rest against the steering wheel, face in your hands. His words echo in your head, said in that stupid Scottish brogue: not falling down at your feet? Not worshippin’ the ground you walk on? Are those really the things he thought you wanted? Is that the sort of impression you gave to Johnny, to Ghost’s other friends? 

The backseat door opens and Johnny climbs out. A small part of you hopes that he will walk himself home—and good riddance. But he horrifies you by walking all the way around to the driver’s side of the car and tugging on the door handle until you begrudgingly unlock the doors. 

“C’mon,” he says, trying to pull you out of the car with your seatbelt still on. 

“What’re you—?”

“Just—wouldya—so stubborn—“ he drunkenly leans over you and mashes his fingers against the button of your seatbelt until it releases. For that brief moment, he is a warm weight across your lap, bringing with him the scent of cologne and whisky. Then he pulls you out of the car—and into his arms. It’s a tight, full hug, chest-to-chest, not bone crushing per se, but all-encompassing. 

You don’t realize how badly you need it from him until you’re getting it. 

“You’re such a dick,” you groan against his shoulder, sniffling.

“Aye,” he says, swaying a little on his feet, like the two of you are dancing. “But I’m right. We cannot be friends. So you’ve got to let this go, alright? Just breathe out 'n let it go.”

“I don’t understand,” you mutter. “He wants us to be friends.” 

“He doesn’t know what he wants,'' Johnny says, one hand rubbing gently at your shoulder blades. “No more crying. It’s out of your hands. Aye?”

You shake your head, hands gripping his shirt. 

But your tears slow and eventually stop. Cars pass occasionally. One of them honks at the sight of you both entwined on the side of the road, rolls down their window to let their passenger yell something suggestive, and it makes your face go hot. Johnny pulls away, nearly stumbling out into the road to give the car both middle fingers as it peels away. He slips on the damp asphalt and goes down hard on his side, taking the skin off his elbow and palm. 

“Fuck, I’m hammered,” he laughs. 

“Clearly,” you say, struggling to help him up and into the backseat. 

Once in the driver’s seat again, you feel exhausted, emptied, like a washcloth wrung out and left to dry. The drive back to the apartment is silent, and when you’re in the parking lot, neither of you make a move to get out of the car. 

You warn Johnny: “Simon’s asleep, so be quiet inside.” 

Johnny warns you sleepily: “Ghost is right there.”

There’s a tap on the glass of your window. It nearly makes you shriek—but it is only Simon, half-smoked cigarette in his fingers, bundled up outside the car door. You roll down the window sheepishly. 

“Need a little help?” he asks, taking a drag and turning his head so the smoke doesn’t touch you. His eyes are on Johnny in the backseat. 

You hold up your fingers with just a smidge of space between them. 

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Twenty

Steve gets dressed fast, his brain kind of fixating on the memory of Eddie’s...penis? Wriggling it’s way across his skin. The way the head or...face, had slowly started to open up.

Jesus Christ.

They can just never have sex. Or be naked together. Ever. That’s fine. That’s absolutely the most normal and logical way to play this. Steve stops, one leg in and one leg out of his pants...what if it bites?

“Stee love?” Eddie’s still wrapped in a towel, wearing it kind of toga style, wrapped firmly under his armpits. He already has his hat back on. He’s fidgeting with the edge of the material.

Eddie used to be half fish anyway, so it’s not like Steve was expecting an involved sexual relationship when...when he thought Eddie was going to die. Steve feels like absolute shit for thinking it, but there was never any commitment before, their relationship had a very definite end. Which, yes, okay, had the positive effect of Steve just...completely by passing any kind of sexuality crisis.

Or species crisis.

But now...now he’s in it for the long haul. And Eddie may want intimacy. Hell, Steve would quite like some intimacy. When Eddie just had a...well, a parting, like a girl, Steve hadn’t given it much thought really, Eddie’s only just freshly legged. Eddie only just now has a real life span. Steve just kind of figured they'd...work something out at some point.

They are probably still going to have to do that.

“Stee love?” Eddie asks again, more quietly this time, uncertain. Steve hates that he’s probably the cause of that.

He still wants the defense of pants though, right now, while he...processes things.

“Right, Yeah,” Steve forces his brain back on line; whatever that was, Eddie was fine with it. And it’s a part of Eddie, clearly...so. Steve needs to just get over this real fast, “what do you want to wear? You can choose.”

“Choose,” Eddie goes to the closet, pulling out some draw string sweat pants and the sweater Joyce made for him.

He takes the towel off, leaving it on the bottom of the bed. The slit is clearly closed; Steve can’t see any evidence of anything. He’s so entranced, staring at the space between Eddie’s legs, that Eddie manages to get a leg in before Steve thinks to intervene, “wait, baby, boxers first.”

Steve gets them, Eddie pulling his leg out, turning the pants inside out in the process. He puts the boxers on backwards, but Steve figures it doesn’t matter since he’s got to sit to pee anyway. Eddie’s clearly confused by one leg being inside out, so Steve helps him fix it.

Watching Eddie put on the sweater is a bit of an experience, it starts off going on over his head sideways, one arm hanging from Eddie’s chest, so Eddie twists and sticks an arm in there, forcing it to straighten before he puts the other one in.

“Uhm,” Steve says, staring at the fully six inches of belly buttonless exposed midriff Eddie’s left with, “maybe we should put a tee shirt on underneath.”

“Underneath,” Eddie cocks his head.

Steve gets him a shirt, helping him back out of the sweater, into the tee shirt, then back into the sweater. The shirt is pastel blue, the sweat pants gray, the sweater red and green. It’s a bit of a look, especially with the bobble hat, but Eddie grins big as Steve finishes dressing himself. Eddie watches closely as Steve puts his socks on, and then goes and gets himself a balled up pair from the drawer.

He sits on the edge of the bed, next to Steve, unballing the socks, one immediately falling to the floor, Eddie clearly not expecting what would happen as he unraveled them. He gets them on okay, apart from one being upside down, so the heel is on the top of his foot. He’s pulled both of them up over the top of the ankle cuffs of his pants.

“My boyfriend is a fashion disaster,” Steve comes to terms with it pretty fast; it’s just Eddie being...Eddie.

“Called boyfriend? Called...fashion disaster?” Eddie sounds the words out carefully.

“Oh boy,” Steve sighs, “here, let me at least fix the socks,” Steve kneels, twisting one sock the right way around and then pulling the cuffs of his pants out so they’re over the top. It reminds him of the ring, kneeling in front of Eddie like this; Steve touches it, where Eddie’s hands rest on his thighs. He might not of exactly intentionally put the ring on that finger in the moment, but now that he realizes what he’s done he definitely likes it. “Boyfriends means I love you, and you love me.”

Eddie nods.

“It’s not the same as friend love...so I love Birdie, but it’s different, to how I love you...I won’t kiss anyone, except you, you understand? I love Birdie, and the kids, and Nancy and John and Joyce and...Hopper, I guess. I love them and I care about them, but…”

“Love Eddidie more good.”

“Yeah, yeah baby.”

Eddie nods, “Eddidie love Stee. Perfect love. Kiss Stee. Not kiss not Stee,” Eddie’s so earnest as he looks down at Steve. His eyes are much better, only vague traces of where they were bloodshot, the lids no longer red or swollen.

Steve snorts a laugh, “so you won’t kiss anyone else,” he says slowly, “you won’t kiss other people.”

“People. Stee. Eddidie. Kids. Hopper. El. Joyce…”

“All,” Steve makes a large encompassing gesture with his hands, “all people.”

“Not kiss all people. Kiss Stee,” Eddie tells him, almost desperate, “love Stee.”

“Love you too baby.”

Eddie’s face crumples for a moment, and for that horrible second Steve thinks Eddie’s going to cry, he certainly looks on the verge of it, big brown eyes liquid, when he says, “Eddidie sorry.”

“Sorry for what baby?” Steve rubs at Eddie’s thigh through the material of his sweat pants, trying to comfort him.

“Eddidie different.”

“I...yeah. Yeah but it’s okay, it’s fine-”

“Not. Stee scared.”

Steve sighs, well fuck, he thinks. “I was just…you are different, okay. But it’s fine, okay, it’s good, I was just...surprised. Okay? Not bad. Not bad I promise.”

“Perfect true? Promise? Eddidie not bad?”

“You’re not bad. I promise okay, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“Touch more? Kiss?” Eddie asks uncertainly, and for the first time ever, Eddie won’t look at Steve when he speaks. He’s staring down at his own knees instead. It guts Steve a little.

“I...yeah. Yeah...later?”

“Today?” Eddie looks up, so earnest still.

He clearly needs reassurance and Steve feels like an absolute shit for making Eddie feel this way. He really didn’t mean to, his response was pure instinct, he really had no control over it, “maybe today...maybe tomorrow? Soon, okay. I promise soon.”

Eddie nods in agreement, but he looks...wilted.

“Come on, you wanted cobbler? And we can watch ‘Splash’?” Steve knows it’s distraction through bribery, but he just needs a little time to process.

Eddie brightens immediately, nodding, “cobbler many good.”

Tom Hanks is under a table, trying to dry Daryl Hannah’s mermaid tail away with his dress tie. Eddie is fascinated. He’s sitting forward in his seat, watching, enraptured.

The phone rings, but Eddie barely registers it, so Steve leaves him to it.

“Hey kid it’s Hopper, you still want a ride to your appointment tomorrow?”

And actually, Steve had more or less forgotten, “uhm...no, I think I’ll be okay,” Steve’s pretty sure he’s up for driving, he can get a shoe on no issue now as long as he’s careful.

“All right, I’m going to need some I.D. photos of Eddie for his documents, think you can manage that?”

“Yeah, yeah Hop, should be able to do that tomorrow. We need groceries anyway.”

“Right, well don’t forget he can’t wear that hat in the photos.”

Shit, Steve thinks, “might have to wait then, I mean his ears are kind of pointy.”

Hopper hums, “what about a wig? Like a fancy dress one that looks like his hair, just for the photos?”

“That...could work, but where-”

Hopper sighs down the phone, and it sounds like it pains him to admit, “I might have something.”

“Again?” Eddie asks, the second the film finishes, “Madison good.”

“Later baby, Joyce is coming over.”

Eddie immediately perks up, “Christmas food?”

Steve laughs, “no, something else, but are you hungry?” Eddie nods, “okay, I can make us something quick.”

“Here honey, sit down,” Joyce indicates a chair for Eddie, “I’m not sure how well this will curl, but if I just spray it down and twist it up, it might be curly tomorrow.”

Eddie sits, letting Joyce fit the wig on his head. It’s obviously false, and nothing like Eddie’s real hair, but the transformation is still immediate. It makes Eddie look healthier, more like himself. Joyce hums to herself as she brushes it out, Eddie fiddling with the ends.

“And why do you have this?”

“I told you kid, no questions.”

“Oh don’t be such a grouch Hop,” Joyce chastises him, smiling, “we went to a costume party for Halloween, we were Sonny and Cher.”

Steve can’t help the shit eating grin he turns on Hopper, “of course you were,” Hopper just rolls his eyes and mooches a beer out of the fridge.

“Eddie I’m going to cut some off this okay? I’ll try and get it about right for you okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, sounding bemused, “thank you Joyce.”

“Such good manners honey, you’re very welcome.”

“Called manners?”

“Oh...well it mean you always remember to say please and thank you.”

“Please and thank you.”

Steve watches them chatting away, vaguely listening to them talk as Joyce asks Eddie which were his favorite parts of Christmas; she seems genuinely thrilled that Eddie is wearing the sweater she made.

Hopper’s leaning against the counter with his beer, “kid we gotta do something about the pool.”

For a moment, the words resurface a truly horrific set of memories that bring Steve up short. Just for a second, he almost can’t breathe, and then it passes, “look Hop, that day, I’m...I shouldn’t have shouted, the way that I did-”

“Kid, I’m old enough to know when I was wrong,” he looks over at where Joyce is snipping bits off Eddie’s ‘hair,’ “and I was wrong.”

Steve looks out the window with Hopper; it’s cold out there, a thin layer of fresh snow decorates the lawn with patchy white splotches. Steve can see what Hopper means though; Steve’s pool chair is nearly black with vines. Hopper moves, clearly intending to head out there; Steve heads into the hall, slipping on his sneakers carefully and grabbing a jacket and some gloves.

He meets Hopper, looking down at the vines and the shitty murky crap in the bottom; Hopper flicks his cigarette end into the muck.

He sighs, “what you got in the shed?”

They had drained the pool as much as they could, but the pump soon started to protest the sludge, so they turned it off and then Steve ran it through with buckets of clean water from the hose. Hopper’s in there, double layers of trash bags taped to his thighs and a bandana mask over his mouth and nose. Joyce and Eddie have a shovel and a fork between them, standing on the pool edge, scraping the vines off the edge and the tiles so they drop into the black muck at the bottom. They’re dead and brittle, snapping and breaking off easily, leaving little puffs of grey dust to float down after the chunks fall.

Steve runs back and forth, sneakers dirty as he goes as far in as he dares, shoveling and moving buckets and then the wheelbarrow to Hopper’s instruction. There’s a clear set of footprints and wheel marks across the lawn and snow, into the trees where Steve’s been dumping all this is in the hopes the melting snow and rain will wash it all away.

They work for a couple of hours before the dark finally drives them back inside, but the pool does look much improved. Steve figures if he can get out there in the day and spend a good few hours on it, he could definitely clear the worst of it. It’s gross, but no where near as deep as Steve feared it would be.

“Once we get near to the end we can put a couple of feet of water in, then just get in and scrub and the pump should do the rest,” Hopper tells him, “you got your appointment tomorrow, but I’ll drop by the day after?”

“Thanks...thanks so much Hopper, I really really appreciate this.”

Hopper shrugs, “I’ll bring Jon, he can help.”

“Thank you Hopper,” Eddie tells him, too.

“Kid, really, it’s fine. No pine cones necessary.”

Part TwentyTwo

[minnies-puppydoll]

{ Kinkmas Day 1: }

❄️ .*•snow bitten•*. ❄️

pairing: bangchan x reader

summary: you beg chan to play in the snow with you, but who knew it would be that cold? but don’t worry, he’ll always be there to warm up his favorite little girl.

warnings: daddy kink, caretaker roles, praise, comfort, manhandling, degradation, pussy eating, size kink/mentions of being smaller than chan, slapping, nipple play, let me know if i missed any!!

the snow fell peacefully on your face as you watched the white, foggy sky. days like these with chan are always the best.

you thoroughly insisted on coming outside to play in the snow, despite chan telling you its too cold and to wait for the thermal coats he bought to come in the mail. but, he knows his girl, always so impatient.

so you throw on a sweater and a thin jacket, obviously not enough to be let outside by chan, so you slowly open the cold doorknob and let your boots hit the snow.

you step around slowly, taking in how the ice cascades along the ground, covering all the the plush, green grass that once was. you scoop some up with your hands, the little crystals bite at your hands warmth, you forgot mittens.

despite your impatient disobedience, chan was an amazing caretaker to you. it’s like he knows everything about you. your fears, insecurities, and doubts, they’re all his now. always have been. chan enjoys having someone to take care of, he loves feeling needed, you both were made for eachother it seems.

you and chan have been dating for half a year now, yet sex was still a fresh topic. sure, you wanted to many times, but chan wants you to wait. you thought it was because he didn’t want you, but he quickly made sure to correct that.

“no no, sweet girl. of course i want you, but i want you to learn to feel safe and secure without feeling like you need to have sex with me, i don’t want you to do it for reassurance. can you wait for me? daddy wants you very much, little angel.”

waiting is hard. he’s evil using that nickname then telling you to wait. you know he’s right, but progress is nothing when you run your hands along yourself, pretending he finally decided to have you.

its easy to worry about things when you’re surrounded by such peace and silence, alone with your thoughts while chan isn’t there to take them all away like usual.

what if he abandons you? or maybe you’re just holding him back? what if always having to take care of you is a nuisance to him?

chan always said they were useless thoughts, and that he’ll always love you, but its hard to not overthink with everything that happened with the men in your life growing up.

..what if you’re dissapointing him right now by sneaking out into the yard? tears start to fill up your eyes.

“i’m sorry, chan.”

you mutter under your cold, visible breath to the image you made of him standing over you, his arms crossed with a fed up expression. but, when you turn around, you bump into something, no, someone warm with firm shoulders wrapped in a thick sweater.

chan greets your eyes with a smile when you open them, one that makes you melt despite the unforgiving snow, one that fills up that empty core inside yourself with safety and security, one that shows you no signs of irritance or resent, just pure, unconditional love. nothing like the chan your insecurities made in your head.

“enjoying the snow, my little angel? warm enough?”

the nickname washes your fears away, healing your upset mind. you can only look up at him innocently through your lashes, nodding your head and playing with the button on his coat.

“mhm. sorry i left. um..chan?”

“hm?”

“..you would tell me if i was too clingy? or just annoying sometimes, right? i know it’s a hassle to always take care of me or..stuff like that.”

you say avoiding his gaze and pouting, chan pets your hair, caressing his hand down to the back of your neck to cup your cheek softly with his big, firm hands. all of a sudden you don’t wanna play anymore, you wanna be with him.

“sweet girl..i know. im not upset with you at all. nothing you can do or say could ever stop me from loving you, remember?”

all of the feelings you wished you could’ve felt back then as a little girl poured into your head and spilled from your eyes and into chans chest as you pressed closer to him, nuzzling into his comforting scent and dependable chest.

he knows how vulnerable you can get when you feel like this suddenly, so chan holds you, placing his hand on the back of your head so you feel safe. when you pull away to look at him, he takes your small hand in his, stroking your skin with his thumbs. but, he stops when he notices you shivering. the snow soaked your clothes and left you wet and cold in his arms.

“..daddy?”

“hm?”

“i want to tell you something else..but i don’t want you to get mad at me.”

you say, chewing on your nail. chan smiles fondly at you.

“what is it? you know you i love you. more than anything in the entire world.”

“..i want..to start having sex with you. not for selfish reasons anymore, just need to feel you. is that okay?”

for a moment chan is silent, its a painful silence for you. please, say something. anything. then, chan starts giggling.

“..daddy?”

“im so proud of you. using your words for me, hm? need me inside you? need to feel my heart closer to you, baby? god, i think if i loved you anymore i might really explode.”

you hide your face in his chest again, burning with shyness. you didn’t think it be this easy, now you just wish he would stop teasing and fuck you already.

“feel better? come here. lets go inside and get you warmed up, silly girl.”

i guess there is a god.

chan sits you down on the large bed with thick, winter comforters cushioning you softly.

gently, but without delay, he begins to unbutton your coat. he gazes into your eyes with every soft clasp, as if you and him are the only ones in the universe..it hums an intimate fuzzing in your head, and an un-wholesome reaction between your thighs.

your coat is smoothly brisked off of your shoulders and discarded onto the floor somewhere, not that you really care about the details right now, as he quickly learns the hard way that you weren’t wearing much under that coat.

chan doesn’t seem that suprised, he simply takes notice of the pink, lacy bra you thought it was a good idea to wear outside and looks back at you with narrowed eyes..

“this is why you were so cold, huh? my dumb, baby..im suprised you didn’t freeze to death.”

you bite your lip when his warm hands roam around your cold breasts, circling his thumbs along the frills of the bra and your sensitive nipples just below them. he knows what he’s doing.

he teases you by leaving it on, running his hands down to your inner thighs, crouching down in between them.

“lay back for me, angel.”

he coos softly with a tender smile. he tucks his thumbs under your waistband, pressing your legs up and hastily peeling your thick, thermal pants off of your legs, revealing a matching set of pink lacy panties and fuzzy, winter thigh highs.

you hid your face as chan stripped you like a doll, then you giggled a bit as he smirks and sighs at your cold weather fashion choices.

“really, sweetheart? maybe you planned this , huh? thought about me stripping that pretty body? ..what am i going to do with you? such a little slut, even in winter.”

his firm hands caress your plush hips, before landing a smack to your thigh. you yelp and squirm in his overpowering grasp, before hes sticking his thumbs in the sides of your cute panties and slowly pulls them down, revealing your soft pussy with a string of arousal connecting to your underwear.

chan parts his lips and lets out a soft noise at the sight, biting his lip and pulling them off your legs. his hand is large over your tummy, the skin is rough in contrast you yours as his strokes his thumb over you sweetly.

“sweet thing. gonna let me take you? i’ll treat this pretty pussy so well as long as you go dumb for me.”

he brings his thumb up to your mouth, you suck on it lightly and bat your lashes at him.

“whore.”

his head is perched between your thighs, pressing soft kisses on your sweet skin.

when your eyes meet his, your stomach flips. just the visual of his mouth so close to where you need him most makes you whine and grind your hips up into nothing.

you have no choice. his arms are trapping your legs open, with his hands securely holding your hips in place. you try to squirm out of his grasp, and the feeling is delicious. you can’t move an inch.

“hm? can’t move, huh? that’s right. daddy’s got you.”

he coos, with a hungry tone in his voice. like he’s been waiting for this, for the moment he has his little girl all vulnrable and desperate for his body. his kisses to your thigh reach the lowest part of you, he comes to a halt and raises his head.

chan looks at you for a second, admiring and savoring the look of you before he gives you what you want. he bites his lip and smiles, revealing his sharp canines pressing on his plush lips.

he lowers his head closer to your twitching cunt, letting his breath tease you first. your red, puffy clit throbs at the denial of his sweet mouth wrapped around it.

“ahn- channiechannie please! can’t take it anymore. i’ll do anything just pleaseplease-“

“who?”

“fuck..daddy? daddy please.”

chan ignores you. he thinks your begs and cries are so adorable, but he already knows what he’s gonna do.

the first touch of his tongue sliding against your pussy feels like suffocating magic. but it doesn’t take long before your squirming and grinding your hips for more stimulation as the tip of his tongue circles just around your tortured little clit.

but you can’t move. and he won’t stop teasing you.

“ah! stopstop stop teasing please! jus’ wanna cum- wanna cum in your mouth, daddy-“

chan shuts you up quickly by wrapping his pretty lips around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue along it, sloppily making out with your pussy like he really means it.

your back immediately arches off the bed, tossing your head back along with it. in between your legs feels like heaven, blanketing your mind with silky, glowing white as you let out an absolutely fucked out scream.

you hear a squeaky chuckle between your legs from chan, he cups your ass with his hands and pulls you in closer to his greedy mouth. his eyes meet yours again, there’s a haze of darkness that passes through his before he bites a little nip on your pussy.

you yelp and jolt up, trying to plead him to stop, but chan is quick to sooth your tortured cunt with two talented fingers working their way into his pretty dolly’s hole.

his fingering is fast paced, has you gripping his hands and squirting all over them in minutes. chan handles his girl so roughly, but he looks down at you so carefully and attentive, as if you’re really made of fragile porcelain. his gaze is full of love and adoration, letting out sweet little giggles at your reactions. he can’t help it, you’re just so cute to him!

chan crooks his fingers up to thrust into your g-spot, you already can’t take it, but you die a little bit when his idle thumb presses into your clit, thrusting in sync with the rest. the added stimulation sends soaring stars of pleasure up your squirming body, chan’s veins on his arms show as he fucks his fingers up into you harder, manhandling an orgasm out of your poor little pussy.

“g’nna cum, yeah? that’s all the dumb little dolly is good for, right? serving daddy?”

“daddy! daddydaddyfuck..! gonna cum-“

“ah, what do we say, pretty girl?”

“can- can i cum? please? ahn..gonna cum so good - ah! on your fingers, daddy…”

“such a smart girl. go ahead and cum, pup. daddy’s got you, hm?”

it only takes those words for the harsh orgasm you were holding back to burst free, soaking chan’s abs and hands. you pathetically wail as he continues the abuse your pussy, fucking you through your wet little orgasm, but you feel so safe. you know chan’ll always hold you safe and tiny in his arms in such a vulnerable headspace.

when you finally start to come down, he strokes your tummy, up to your cute breasts, and finally to your cheeks, where he plants a soft kiss to remind you he loves you.

chan stands up and wipes his mouth. you notice how he’s still completely dressed and you’re only in your slutty thigh highs. it’s a hot situation, but it won’t do for now.

you slide your foot along his belt buckle, pulling and tugging at while whining at him, wordlessly begging for him to finally fill you up.

“what do you want, pretty girl? tell me and i’ll give it to you.”

you don’t respond, you just blink up at him, going a bit non-verbal and fuzzy already, and it’s worse when chan leans down to grab your face.

“hey. you want daddy to fuck you? want daddy’s cock pressing into your tummy, baby?”

“mhm..”

“then use. your. words.”

chan almost growls in your ear, you feel the texture of denim grinding at your overstimulated clit, he’s frotting his hard cock against your pussy from the fabric, urging you to say what he ordered you to say.

“mm’fuck! chan yes!”

a harsh slap stings your cheek.

“you know my name, stupid slut. is that pretty head just for decoration, or can you actually use it?”

“m’sorry, so sorry..fuck. daddy, please fuck me? please? ill be such a good girl, such a good hole for you please-“

the more you talk the bigger the smile lights up on his face, you’re just the most adorable thing in his eyes.

“aw, who’s my good girl? is it you? fuck..that’s right, angel.”

chan takes your little fuzzy-socked foot in his hand and brings it up from his belt to his face, planting a kiss above your heel.

he places your foot over his shoulder and begins to undo his belt with hypnotizing metal clicks. you’re finally getting what you’ve wanted since you started dating chan.

his belt and pants come undone, and you finally get a view of his big, red cock. it throbs in the air just by looking at the reaction on your face, suddenly he’s a little shy, just like the channie you know. he let’s out a squeaky giggle and avoids your eyes as he pumps his cock lazily.

“you want it, hm? it’s leaking for you and those pretty hips.”

he says now biting his lip and spreading your legs back, trapping you in a mating press. his face rests near your collarbone, whispering filth desperately as far as you can hear it.

“fuck..can’t hold it anymore, need to sink into you..tight fucking pussy- need it squeezing me.”

with that, he’s spreading your folds and forcing his cock in with tiny little thrusts. the stretch is overwelming, but it’s pressing on the front of your g-spot perfectly.

when your pussy is filled all the way, he wastes no time at all continuing his pace with larger and more forceful thrusts inside you, one’s that have you breathlessly screaming.

you really can’t take it, it feels too good you don’t know what to do with yourself. you need him to slow down.

you can’t form sentences right now, so you try planting your hands on his abdomen to brace yourself, but chan swipes them up instantly, gripping your wrists together to use as leverage to pull you back down on his cock.

“fucking take it. stay still, you said you would be good, hm? this pussy’s too little to fit me?”

you’re going braindead you swear, his cock is mind-numbingly thick, it soaks your g-spot, while also being long enough to fuck spots you’re sure no dildo has ever reached before.

chan bounces you like that for a bit before taking one of your legs and lifting it up, holding it against his chest while he rolls his hips in your cunt. he’s lost in it, closing his eyes and placing plush kisses along your sock.

he brings his hand down to thumb at your clit messily, slapping it occasionally to get you there closer. he feels himself faltering in your pussy, groaning louder and leaning his head back at the feeling of you sucking him in.

“fffuck..good fucking girl..gonna make daddy cum? yeah? want me to spill inside this greedy cunt?”

“mn..mhm!”

he hears your meek response. chan places his hand on the side of your head, forcing you to hear him as he brings his face to the crook of your neck.

you don’t like this. you love the feeling of him fucking you more than anything, it makes you feel taken care of and safe, and closer to your boyfriend. but what you really need right now is his cum, and he isn’t cumming fast enough for you.

“gonna cum, yeah? look at what you’re doing to me- ah!”

chan tenses as you pull up his shirt to pinch at his nipples, rolling them in your fingers. his arms shake around you as he writhes, but he isn’t thrusting anymore.

“please..don’t stop, channie..you’re almost there, need your cum..”

he starts thrusting again, fucking you closer with him, the feeling of his cock inside you and your hands on his nipples has him throwing his head back, sending electric sparks of pleasure to his cock.

“mm’fuck can’t take it- oh fuck, cumming!”

you feel chan spraying warm cum deep inside your already messy cunt. the feeling of his warmth flooding inside you is what sends you over with him, his twitching cock still prodding at your g-spot desperately.

your orgasm is strong, you close your legs shut while cumming shakily around his cock till he softly pulls it out. you both rest for a second after cumming so hard, but chan’s shy laugh breaks the silence, covering his red face.

“oh my gosh..i cannot believe i just came from that!”

you can’t believe that this is the same man that just called you his whore unprovoked. you pull him down to lay on you, resting your face in his shoulder and wrapping your legs around him. chan instantly relaxes in your arms.

“…all warmed up now?”

“mhm..chan?”

“anything, sweet girl.”

“i love you. love you so much..thank you for doing this. i know taking care of me can be alot and-“

“ah, ah. i told you to stop saying that. never. it’s never a burden to make you happy. thank you for trusting me to give you what you need. i loved you then, i love you now, and ill love you forever. if you forget, then ill always be here to remind you, ill say it over and over again each time.”

his soft, lovely words paired with your exhaustion seems to be the perfect recipe for you to fall asleep in his arms. chan just hums and strokes your hair, he loves his girl.

“goodnight, sweet girl. ill be right here when you wake up too.”

tags!!

@estella-novella @thatonedarkskinnedsiren @theresstardustinmyblood @annafeebou @pancake-freckle @elizalabs3 @minniesverse @loxgirl2004 @mintymintmint251 @y-ur--i

[butterflyscribbles]

Freenoodle Headcanons (Part 1) - bc there’s no way I’ll have time to draw them all out fast enough and I need to get them out of my brain:

Hidden underneath bc it’s loooong…

- Tang and Pigsy met in a college-level business class. Pigsy was going for a general business major with a minor in culinary arts. Tang was pursuing Chinese Literature and Lingustics in order to eventually be a librarian or museum archivist as well as an author on the side. They started interacting more bc Tang threatened to call Pigsy out for cheating on an exam and Pigsy “bought” his silence with a bowl of homemade noodles.

- It started with “blackmail” that Tang was gonna tell if Pigsy ever stopped making food for him but gradually they just started hanging out. Pigsy began to realize that if it weren’t for him, Tang would have most likely wasted away considering he was not only a picky eater but would also completely forget meals while being so focused on his studies. Tang in return started helping Pigsy with study before big exams as well. It became routine until they both finished the class. That was one of the only classes they had together being on pretty separate tracks but by then they were close enough friends to continue hanging out semester after semester.

- Tang’s family was not too fond of him hanging out with Pigsy and eventually Sandy who had a bit of a rebellious (and somewhat criminal) hot streak. Lots of being kicked out of bars for fighting, loud music and band parties that somehow would force them to migrate into Tang’s apartment after they trashed their own.

- Tang used to have pierced ears that were Pigsy’s own handiwork but his mom made him take them out the minute he visited home. He wants to get them pierced again even now because he loved how it looked but is lowkey too chicken to act on it bc ouchieeee needles it was hard enough the first time

- They never really defined themselves as dating out loud in college but they were definitely “more than friends” after a while. Pigsy crushed on him first but Tang fell harder once he finally caught on that Pigsy liked him. They were both too emotionally constipated scared to slap an official label on it though.

- Tang is almost always freezing and wrapped up in sweaters, scarves and mittens. Pigsy is always hot. Equilibrium achieved.

- Speaking of scarves, Tang’s trademark red scarf and most precious comfort item he owns, was a gift from Pigsy’s mother when Pigsy introduced him to his parents. He is almost never without it and takes very good care of it because it is hand-made and one of a kind.

- Tang was NOT a fan of the Pigsy mustache era™️ but that did not stop the pig man from burrowing his face onto him and teasing him near to death with prickly kisses

- Pigsy’s affectionate nickname for Tang became “truffles” for a hot second after this^^ Tang secretly and begrudgingly loved it. The nickname is still stashed away for special occasions and ONLY when its the two of them.

- The mirror to that is Tang found out Pigsy’s weak spots were his ears and under his chin. Loves scritches and sometimes Tang would just reach out and idly play with his ears if they were within reach. That’s also something that occurs in present time.

- On rare occasions, Tang would convince Pigsy to sing for him and most of those moments ended in tears both of sadness or laughter on both ends. Mostly because Pigsy would either sing songs his mom taught him or ones he could only half remember the lyrics to.

- They stayed in contact for a while even after Pigsy graduated (Tang was pursuing a PHD so he stayed in school longer). Tang and Sandy were both there when the restaraunt was passed down to Pigsy and they were the first customers at Pigsy’s Noodles.

Things got a bit more complicated after that…

- For about 5 months before MK came into their lives, Tang and Pigsy were actually having a huge fight and were not on speaking terms. Sandy’s anger and violence issues were at an all time high and he dropped out of college just before graduating, Pigsy and Tang struggled to define their relationship after they Tang’s family was insistent he finally cut them out of his life and it lead to a big fight where Sandy ended up leaving the trio and there was a huge and bitter rift between the three of them.

- Three weeks after Pigsy’s mom passed, little MK showed up on his doorstep. He was already running the shop alone for the first time and now he suddenly had a child who desperately needed him. While MK brought some much needed light back into his life, he struggled to properly care for the little ball of energy and still make end’s meet. His quick temper and the passing of his mom had seriously impacted business and chased off a lot of regulars as it was. So, he called the only person he trusted to help. The minute Pigsy explained his situation…Tang didn’t hesitate to come back, even as he continued classes. Things were awkward and messy for sure and there was a lot of baggage to sort through…but they made it work for their little monkey kid.

Okay that’s it ta ta for now part two is going to be Freenoodle Family focused I wanted this one to be more on the early days before MK to set it all up.