#GNAWING MY ARM OFF AND EXPLODING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[neixins]

[ID: fanart of gija and jaeha from “yona of the dawn”. they’re both wearing simple loose-fitting robes. gija’s back is exposed, revealing his scars, and his face is turned towards jaeha, whose head is tilted slightly downwards towards him, his eyes closed. his hand is resting on gija’s back. white daffodils are drawn across gija’s back and on jaeha’s chest, peeking out from beneath his robe. there are several flower petals flying in the air around them. end ID.]

(Daffodils: Beginning Anew, Respect, Regard, Unrequited Love)

Commission by the fantastic soltreis, because I’m still not over the OAD. 

[sadisthetic]

disarm. dismantle. disable.

[shady-shrub]

I HAVENT SEEN ENOUGH PEOPLE POSTING ABOUT THIS ON HERE. IM OBLITERATING MYSELF AND OTHERS

GUYS WHAT IF I DONT ENJOY IT?!?!?!

[doll3scent]

★ Pornstar 5 ★

John Price x Cam girl! reader

warnings- 18+ -mdni, jealousy, alcohol, smut, explicit language, somnophilia, choking, angst w/ comfort,

wc. 6k

a/n. this took me forever

4, 5, 6,

master list 𓂃۶ৎ

Ghost had mentioned bringing his team along for your birthday. You and your friends had planned a night out clubbing, and you figured it was only fair to let him invite his mates—no sense in leaving him stuck with a crowd of twenty-somethings all night on his own.

You and John had been texting and meeting up a few more times since that first night. Each encounter carried the same charged secrecy—you kept your mask on, and he played along, pretending he didn’t know exactly who you were.

John feels the weight of guilt every time he interacts with Ghost, especially now that they’re back at base. He can barely look Simon in the eyes anymore, the guilt weighing down on him like a ton of bricks. He knows he’s betraying his friend, and he hates himself for it. But he can’t bring himself to stop seeing you. He’s addicted to you, to the sound of your voice, the feel of your body pressed against his…

John keeps telling himself he’ll end it, that it’s the right thing to do—but he can’t. He’s wanted you for too long. He spent months watching your cam streams, craving what he couldn’t have, and now that you’re his—truly his—he refuses to let go. Especially when you meet up, when the heat of passion fades, and you curl up in his arms afterward. You slip off your mask, resting your head against his chest, trusting him with one condition: he can hold you, but only if he promises not to look. And he never does—he wouldn’t dare break the fragile trust between you.

But the guilt gnaws at him. Every time John sees Ghost, he’s reminded of his betrayal. He’s been keeping this secret from his best mate, lying right to his face. And he knows that someday, this whole thing is going to explode in the worst possible way.

One day on base, as the team was gathered around after a long mission, Ghost cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

“Right, listen up,” he began, his voice steady but with a hint of annoyance. “My sister’s birthday is coming up, and she’s dragging me to a club. You lot can come if you want, I’m not about to spend the night stuck with a bunch of half-naked 20-year-olds who can barely hold their liquor.”

A few of the team members exchanged amused glances. Soap raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sounds like you need some backup, mate,” he teased.

Ghost shot him a flat look, though there was a slight curve to his lips. “Exactly. Don’t want to be the only old man there with no one to talk to, do I?”

Price leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What’s the plan? We just show up and blend in?”

“Pretty much,” Ghost said with a shrug. “It’s not my ideal night, but it’s for her, so…”

“Hey, if you’re buying, I’m in,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a grin.

Soap snorted. “Buyin’? Please, Ghost probably still thinks a pint costs a fiver.” Ghost shoots him a glare.

John was torn. On one hand, the idea of seeing you gnawed at him—he missed those stolen moments, the secrecy, and the way you felt when you were close. But there was a problem: you still didn’t know that he knew exactly who you were. You kept your distance, acting like he was just some stranger to you, and it killed him.

On the other hand, the thought of being in the same place as you and Ghost, all three of you in close proximity, felt like a ticking time bomb. The guilt, the risk—it was too much. But if he didn’t show up to the club, it would look suspicious. He couldn’t afford that.

Ghost’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. “You coming, Price?”

Price glanced up, meeting Ghost’s gaze. For a moment, he pondered saying no, finding an excuse to skip out. But he knew that would only arouse suspicion. And so he sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come.”

The night of, Price stood in front of the mirror in his room, feeling nervous as he checked his outfit one last time. He tried on a couple different shirts before finally settling on a dark grey button-up and a pair of black jeans. He ran a hand through his hair, frowning at his reflection. For some reason, he felt a strange mixture of anxious and excited. Maybe it was the thought of seeing you or the nerves about pretending he didn’t know who you were. Either way, he took a deep breath and steeled himself.

John stood at the bar with the team, his drink in hand, but his mind was elsewhere. Soap and Gaz were already in the thick of it, eyeing passing girls with shameless grins, their attempts at flirting fluctuating between mildly charming and painfully awkward.

Soap, always the loud one, had just cracked a joke that made a girl giggle-though John couldn't tell if it was from genuine interest or sheer pity. Gaz wasn't much better, leaning in with a smirk, dropping some line that sounded more rehearsed than spontaneous. John nursed a beer, his attention only half-heartedly on the women around him.

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Soap called out to Ghost.

Ghost took a swig of his drink before replying, “She’s always late, wouldn’t be like her if she was on time”. He rolled his eyes but there was a hint of affection in his voice.

A group of girls entered the bar, their laughter ringing out and instantly grabbing the attention of everyone nearby. They wore the skimpiest of dresses, skirts, and shirts—everything designed to make heads turn, and turn they did. Wolf whistles followed them as they made their way through the crowd, including from Soap and Gaz, who were both quick to take notice.

Price couldn’t help but look too, his gaze almost drawn to them instinctively. But then, his eyes locked onto you. His heart skipped a beat, suddenly lodged somewhere in his throat. His grip around his beer tightened, knuckles whitening as he processed the sight before him.

You were standing there, a vision in the crowd. Your outfit hit him like a punch to the gut—like you’d intentionally gone out and found the tiniest pink skirt, slashed it in half, then paired it with a matching corset top that left little to the imagination. Your white patterned stockings and pink heels completed the look, and Price’s stomach twisted with something he couldn’t quite name. His mind raced, trying to pull himself together. It felt like everything in the room had faded away, and all that mattered was the sight of you—so close, so real. And yet, still so far out of reach.

You pranced up to your brother, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug before quickly greeting the rest of his team with a few more hugs. When it was John’s turn, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The moment your arms encircled him, John froze. Every instinct in him screamed to hold you closer, to pull you tight against him, to inhale your scent that lingered on his skin. But he forced himself to stay still, his body rigid as he struggled to keep his composure. His mind raced, trying to focus on anything other than the heat of your body against his.

“Uh—Happy birthday, kid,” he managed, his voice tight, strained as he patted your back awkwardly. He kept his eyes averted, though they betrayed him, roaming over you, taking in every detail of your outfit. His heart hammered in his chest as his mind locked on how little you were wearing. The fabric of your skirt, the curve of your corset top, it all felt like too much—too much for him to handle in this moment. But you, blissfully unaware of his internal battle, pulled back with a smile, completely oblivious to the storm you’d just stirred inside him.

You smile sweetly, batting your lashes up at him in that innocent way you always did, the one that made his stomach twist with something he couldn’t name. “Thank you,” you say, your voice light and playful, unaware of the effect it’s having on him.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach the instant his arms wrapped around you, his warmth seeping into you and making your pulse quicken. The scent of him, so familiar and comforting, only heightened the rush of emotions flooding your senses. You couldn't stop your mind from drifting to the other night-the way his hands had explored your body with such deliberate confidence, every touch igniting something deep inside you.

The memory sent a delicious shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as you unconsciously leaned into his embrace, unable to resist the pull he had over you. He desperately wanted to hold you tighter, to pull you even closer, but he couldn't. Not here, not with Ghost right there, oblivious to the fact that his best friend was secretly sleeping with his younger sister.

Instead, he pulled away reluctantly, forcing a smile onto his face. “You, uh…you look nice,” he murmured. But the words felt hollow in his mouth, inadequate to describe just how beautiful you looked.

You smile softly, your cheeks warming as you thank him sweetly when he says you look nice. He seems so different than usual—nervous and cautious, a far cry from the commanding presence he has with you in private. It’s almost endearing, seeing this side of him, though you can’t blame him. He doesn’t know it’s you he’s been with, the person he’s been pouring his desires into. To him, you’re just another stranger, someone he feels freer with than someone from his real life.

Later in the night, after several rounds of drinks and conversations, your friend group led you to the dance floor, the music loud and vibrant. You and your friends all danced together, laughing and twirling in the rhythm. As the music vibrated through the floor, Price leaned against the wall, half hidden in the shadows, watching you dance with the others, a pang of desire and guilt twisting his stomach.

The music pounded through the walls of the club, the lights illuminating you in a kaleidoscope of colors as you danced with your friends. Price couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching closely as you swayed your hips in time with the music, your movements fluid and captivating. He could feel the desire welling up inside him, his heart hammering against his chest, but he forced himself to stay put. He was playing a dangerous game, and he couldn’t let anyone find out.

He watched as your friends pulled you further into the fray, each of them laughing and smiling, completely unaware of the tension he was feeling. Despite the noise and the chaos, he could only focus on you, the way your body moved, the way your hair fell across your face, the way your skirt rode up slightly as you twisted and turned. His hands ached to touch you, to pull you to him and feel your body pressed against his.

Price tensed as he saw a man approaching you, his eyes narrowing as he observed him. The man looked closer to your age, but still older than you, and the way he looked at you made Price’s stomach churn. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool while his mind raced with thoughts of what this stranger could possibly want with you.

As he watched, the man leaned in and yelled something into your ear, trying to be heard over the music. You responded with a wide smile, nodding at whatever he said, and the sight sent a wave of jealousy through Price. His hands curled into fists, his possessive tendencies taking over as he watched the two of you talk.

The man then reached out and placed his hand on your hip, pulling you a little closer to him as he continued talking into your ear. Price’s jaw was in danger of snapping with how hard he was clenching it. He wanted nothing more than to march over there and rip that man’s hand off of you. But he couldn’t.

As you moved to the rhythm of the music, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt in the back of your mind. The man beside you was all smiles, clearly enjoying the moment as you danced and flirted with him, but something nagged at you. You knew it wasn’t right—flirting with someone else when your thoughts were still tangled with John. But then, you reminded yourself: John doesn’t know the cam girl he’s been so captivated by is you. It felt like a small comfort, a boundary you could convince yourself to cross just this once.

It wasn’t like you could openly flirt with your older brother’s captain—especially not in front of him. That was a line you wouldn’t dare cross. Tonight was yours, though. It was your birthday, and you decided you were entitled to a little fun, a little freedom from all the complicated emotions and secrets you were carrying. You pushed the nagging thoughts aside, choosing to focus on the present. The lights, the music, the laughter—it was all a release. For tonight, you could let go.

Price couldn’t bear to watch anymore. Every move you made, every laugh you shared with that man, felt like a knife twisted in his gut. He had no claim on you, he knew that, but the sight of you with another man still sent a surge of jealousy and possessiveness through him.

He took another deep breath, trying to control his breathing, trying to control his emotions. But his mind was filled with thoughts of you and him, the way your body fit against his, the way you cried out for him.

As the night drew to a close, the man next to you, the one who had been flirting with you all night, finally gathered the courage to ask for your number. He leaned in close, his voice slightly slurred with alcohol, as he shouted over the music, “Can I get your number? I really want to see you again.”

Price observed as you giggled, the sound hitting his ears like a physical blow. He felt his heart sink as you reached into your small purse and scribbled your number on a napkin before handing it to the man. He couldn’t stand it, the sight of you giving your number to someone else, not after everything you’d shared together. He had no right to stop you, no right to say anything, but it didn’t make the sight any less painful.

It’s late, past 1am, and you’re sound asleep, wrapped in the comfort of your blankets. Suddenly, your phone rings, jolting you awake. Groggy and disoriented, you fumble for your phone, only to see a number you don’t recognize displayed on the screen. Your heart skips a beat as you answer the call.

“..Hello?” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

He grits his teeth, the surge of anger coursing through him, and forces himself to breathe deeply. His fingers curl into fists, but he knows he has to control it—he can’t let you see how badly this is eating at him. You don’t know that he knows who you are, and that’s what he keeps telling himself as the fury swells inside him. He tries to steady his pulse, focusing on the need to stay composed, to not give away how badly he wants to confront everything that’s been eating at him.

The temptation to ask you directly what the hell is going on, to demand answers, is almost unbearable. But he doesn’t. Instead, his voice comes out calm, controlled, though every muscle in his body is tense with the desire to let his anger out.

“Do you want to meet up tonight?” His words feel like they hang in the air between you, and he watches for your response, trying to push past the storm inside him, desperate for some kind of answer.

“Okay” your rub the sleep out of your eyes “I’ll leave the front door unlocked”

His breath hitches slightly at your words, and for a moment, he almost regrets it. But then he reminds himself that this is the only way forward. He needs to see you, to feel that pull again, even if it’s tangled with complications he hasn’t fully worked through yet. “Good,” he mutters, his voice a little rougher than he intends. “I’ll be there soon.”

The call ends abruptly, and as you sit there, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from your eyes, the weight of what’s about to happen starts to settle in. You don’t even acknowledge the fact of how he could’ve gotten your number. You know it’s dangerous, know it’s a risk, but your body hums with anticipation. He’s coming. And whatever this thing between you is, it’s about to get a whole lot more complicated. You sit up brushing your hair down, your tie your mask on before sitting on your bed, you then lay down planning on just waiting for John but you promptly fall back asleep.

When John arrives at your house, the night air is cool against his skin, but the anticipation burning in his chest keeps him warm. He stands for a moment at your door, fingers hovering just above the handle. His mind races—thoughts swirling between desire and the heavy weight of the situation. He has no idea how this will go, but he’s already too far gone to turn back now.

He enters silently, closing the door behind him and stepping carefully into the darkened house. The only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. He can see the soft glow of your bedside lamp peeking through the crack in your door.

He creeps toward your bedroom, finding you curled up in bed, your soft breaths steady and slow. The sight of you, peaceful and unaware of his presence, gives him pause. He watches you for a moment, unsure if he should wake you or just let you sleep. His heart aches at the thought of interrupting your rest, but his body aches with need, the tension in his muscles undeniable.

Gently, he steps closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes tracing the outline of your body beneath the covers. He swallows hard, trying to calm the growing fire inside him. He silently climbs onto the bed between your legs, your sleepy whimpers making his cock harden instantly. “My little girl thinks she can flirt with others and still keep her mask on with me? Not fucking happening." He enters your wet pussy slowly, knowing you’ll wake up to his invasion, without your mask on.

"I saw you, little girl. Flirting with that man like you were some kind of whore." He fucks you harder, his hands gripping your hips painfully. "You're mine, and only mine. No one else gets to see that face or hear those sweet moans." his hands move to your mask, yanking it off without hesitation this time. “I’m done with this fucking mask. I want to see every expression on your face while I fuck you senseless."

"Mmph..." You stir softly, your body automatically arching back as his slow, deep thrusts send waves of pleasure through your sleepy body. You’re large doe eyes flutter open, taking a second to realize what's happening. "Mmh... " he pulls your legs up high onto his shoulders, deepening his thrusts and forcing you to look at him as he stares intensely into you unmasked face. "Who's bed is this? Who's arms are you supposed to be sleeping in?" His voice is low, almost a growl, pulling you from the haze of sleep.

You blink slowly, still groggy, his words swirling in your mind as you try to piece them together. “…Yours,” you mumble softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stir awake, the warmth of his presence settling over you. He continues rhythmically thrusting, pulling you closer and covering your mouth with his own, one hand firmly holding the back of your neck to keep you in place. “Mmph..." The kiss deepens, passionate and claiming - not allowing you to speak or register that your mask is gone.

He hooks your legs around his waist, changing the angle. His thick length hits you deep spots, making you moan softly and arch your back. "Baby..." He pulls back an inch to look at you again. Your lips are swollen from his kiss, your eyes half-lidded with sleep and pleasure. He slides a hand down to your side, possessively grabbing one of your thighs. He Spreads your legs wider, watching himself slide in and out of your tight heat. He's unconsciously addicted to the view.

"You're so fucking tight and wet for me, baby girl." He growls, his voice low and husky as he increases Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, his words sending a shiver down your spine. He smirks, his lips finding yours again, this time softer, slower, but no less consuming. his pace. His hand on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your soft skin. “I could stay buried in this little pussy all day."

"You know what I love most?" He asks in a hushed whisper, slowing his hips again to tease you. “Watching your face when I hit this sweet spot just right." He purposely angles himself to rub against your G-spot, making you whimper softly. “But fuck..."

His mind flashes back to earlier that night, seeing you laughing and smiling at that man. He can feel his anger building, his body tensing as he remembers. He pulls out slightly, his hands gripping your thighs painfully. “But you know what i didn’t love?” he wraps his hand around your throat. “Seeing you prance around with that man” he squeezes

"You think you can just flirt with other men and ignore me? You think you can wear a mask and pretend to be mine, but then go out there and act like a fucking whore?" He spits out the words, his voice cold and angry as he pushes your legs wider apart. His eyes darken dangerously as one hand wraps around your throat, applying gentle pressure. He continues thrusting roughly, using his superior strength to hold you down. “You want another man's cock that badly?" He growls, tightening his grip slightly more. “Fucking answer me."

His hand on your throat squeezes just a bit more, cutting off your airflow completely. You can only manage a weak, muffled "n-no" before he finally releases his grip, allowing you to gasp for air. “Good” He hisses, resuming his rough fucking.

Your mind spins, wild and frantic, as his words tear through the air between you. The sharp edge of his tone cuts deep, each syllable laced with anger, jealousy, and something far more possessive than you'd ever anticipated. "You think I didn't know?" he growls, his hips snapping forward with a force that leaves you gasping. "Think I wouldn't recognize you, even with that little mask on? I've always known, Angel."

The weight of his confession crashes over you, leaving you breathless and disoriented. He's always known. Every time he spoke your name in that low, commanding tone, every filthy word he growled through the screen— he knew it was you. The realization sends a flood of heat through your body, but it's quickly overshadowed by the intensity of his thrusts, each one driving his frustration and jealousy into you. “And tonight," he continues, his voice rough and unforgiving, "you really thought l'd stand there and watch you let another man put his hands on you? Let him look at you like he had a chance?"

"I didn't-" you try to explain, your voice shaky, but he cuts you off with another harsh thrust, his grip on your hips bruising as he holds you in place beneath him.

"Don't lie to me," he snaps, his dark eyes boring into yours as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "I saw you, Angel. Saw you dancing, letting him get close to what's mine." His words hit you like a physical blow, a dizzying mix of shame and arousal surging through your veins. You can feel his anger in the way he moves, in the unrelenting pace of his thrusts, as though he's determined to erase the memory of anyone else from your mind and body.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, "and don't you dare forget it." His hand slides up to your throat, his grip firm but controlled as he forces you to look at him. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a storm of emotions that leaves you speechless.

"I've been patient," he says, his tone rough and filled with barely restrained fury. "I let you keep your little secret, let you play your games. But now?" He thrusts into you harder, pulling a broken gasp from your lips. "Now, you don't get to pretend anymore. I know exactly who you are, and you're not going anywhere."

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, your body trembling as you struggle to process everything. He's always known, and yet he let you believe you were in control, let you think you were safe behind your mask. But now, there's no hiding, no escaping the truth-or him. “Say it," he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your pulse race. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whisper, your voice barely audible as his dominance consumes you completely. "Good," he growls, his lips brushing against your ear as his pace quickens. "Because I'm going to make damn sure you never forget it again." He feels a savage satisfaction at your whispered acknowledgment, his grip loosening slightly on your throat as he continues his brutal pace. Each forceful thrust is a stake driven into the earth, claiming you utterly. “That's right, Angel. You belong to me. Every fucking inch of you."

His anger still simmers just beneath the surface, His hand releases your throat, moving to caress your cheek “Weeks, Angel. Weeks of wearing that damn mask, keeping your face from me. But you had no problem flashing those pouty lips and batting your eyelashes at that stranger, did you?"

“Im sorry daddy-“

His expression darkens at the apology, his voice dropping to a low, menacing growl. “Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it, Angel. You thought you could play me for a fool, hide behind a mask and flirt with other men right in front of me."

“I didn’t mean it..”

He cuts you off with a harsh laugh, his free hand reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. "You didn't mean it? You didn't mean to make me jealous, to make me watch you give attention to someone else?"

With a sudden, powerful movement, he flips them over so that you’re now on top, straddling his hips. He sits up, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulls you down onto his length with a forceful thrust. "But you know what, Angel?" He smirks wickedly, his hands sliding up your sides to momentarily rest just beneath your breasts. "Maybe I ought to flirt with some women my own age, hm? Show you what it feels like to watch someone else get attention." He leans back slightly, looking up at you with mock consideration.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating through your body as he keeps his relentless rhythm, each thrust leaving you breathless.

The amusement in his tone sends a shiver down your spine, though it's laced with something darker, something possessive.

"Just imagine it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear as he arches an eyebrow, his pace never faltering.

"Me, charming some gorgeous, mature woman right in front of these pretty eyes. Someone who'd appreciate a real man— someone who doesn't need games or masks." His words cut through the haze of pleasure and guilt, his deliberate taunt igniting a fiery mix of jealousy and desperation within you.

He's punishing you, making sure you feel the sting of his jealousy just as much as he felt yours.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your mind spinning as he drives into you with purpose, his hips slamming against yours in a rhythm that's as intoxicating as it is punishing. The thought of him with someone else, of him turning his attention away from you, burns hotter than you can bear.

"Is that what you want, Angel?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous as he leans down, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. "Someone else getting what's yours? Watching while I ruin her the way I ruin you?"

You shake your head frantically, your voice trembling as you gasp, "No... no, I don't want that."

His grin widens, wicked and satisfied, as he adjusts his angle, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. "That's what I thought," he says, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, his dominance pressing down on you like a weight you can't escape.

One hand moves up to grip your jaw possessively, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he continues his powerful thrusts. “You should see your face right now, Angel. Those big doe eyes, realizing you fucked up." His thumb traces your bottom lip. “You look like you might cry, sweetheart. Like you might beg me to stay away from those other women." He leans in closer, his breath hot against your mouth.

“i’m sorry daddy..”

His eyes flash with a cold, calculating light as he hears the whispered "daddy." He pulls back slightly, his hands tightening on your jaw and hips. “You're too little, you know that? Too young to keep a man like me interested." You let out a sad whimper.

He smirks cruelly, his hips bucking upwards again. "See, you're making those sad little noises because you think I'm going to leave you for someone older, mature, more... suitable." He punctuates each word with a harsh thrust.

His eyes glitter with a cruel amusement as he watches the anguish play across your face. "Is that what you're afraid of, sweetheart? That I might find someone more woman than girl?" His thumb presses down harder on your lip, forcing it to tremble.

His smirk softens slightly, but the dangerous edge remains in his voice. “Tell me, Angel... would you miss Daddy? Would you miss these hands? This cock?" He deliberately grinds against you, hitting that sensitive spot again. "Or would you find someone else?"

Your eyes widen at his question, a flash of jealousy and possessiveness crossing your features. You clench tightly around him, your arms reaching back to wrap around his neck possessively. “N-no! I only want you, daddy..”

He growls low in his throat, the sound of satisfaction and dominance. His hands tighten on you, fingers digging into soft flesh as he begins to pound into you mercilessly. "Only me, is it? My little Angel, so possessive, so jealous..."

With each powerful thrust, he bounces you on his cock like a rag doll, his massive hands gripping you hips with bruising force. The wet slap of your bodies meeting echoes obscenely through the room along with your tiny squeals. "Fuck, look at you trembling on my dick”

He leans forward, his muscular torso pressing against your bouncing breasts as he growls into your ear. "You've got me fucking wild, you know that? Jealous little thing, clinging to my cock like it's your lifeline."

You shiver at his words, your pussy fluttering and tightening around his length. You turn your head to the side, nuzzling into his neck submissively. "Y-yes, daddy... I'm your jealous little slut... Only yours..."

His eyes roll back slightly as your words send a jolt of pleasure through him. He bites down on your neck, marking you as his, as he continues to rut into you with animalistic abandon. "Fucking right you are..."

Your vision starts to blur as he continues to claim you, his cock pounding into your overstuffed pussy, his teeth marking your skin. Your completely lost in the moment, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensation of being filled and bred by him.

As your vision blurs, he looks down at you, his face twisted in a feral grimace of pleasure. "Look at you, fucking lost in it, aren't you? My little Angel, so small and tight, taking Daddy's big cock like the good little slut she is."

You can't even form a coherent response, your mind blanked by the intense pleasure. All you can do is cling to him, your body shaking and trembling as he continues to fuck you. "Mmmmph... D-daddy...”

He reaches one hand up to roughly squeeze your bouncing tits, his thumb and forefinger twisting your nipple cruelly. "Stupid slut, who fucking owns this pussy? Who's fucking you into oblivion?" His hips slam up brutally, driving his massive cock deep.

You wail, your body convulsing around him as he twists your sensitive nipple. You look up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Y-you... Daddy, only you..”

He growls triumphantly, fucking you even harder at your submission. “That's right, baby girl. Daddy fucking owns this cunt. Look at you falling apart on my cock..." His other hand moves between their bodies, pressing firmly against your clit.

Your whole body seizes up as he rubs your clit, the overwhelming stimulation pushing you over the edge. “DADDY!!" you scream, your pussy clamping down violently on his cock as you cum hard, your juices gushing out around his cock.

He groans loudly as your orgasm makes your pussy squeeze his length like a vice. He spreads your thighs wider, pounding into you non-stop. "Jesus Christ, Angel. You're squirting all over Daddy's dick..."

His voice becomes ragged with lust as he continues to fuck through your orgasm, completely losing control. "Fuck fuck fuck... You're a filthy little mess... Look how you creamed Daddy's cock...” His breathing turns heavy, animalistic "You're making me fucking cum...” With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his thick length pulsing as he begins to fill your womb with his hot, sticky seed. "FUCK, Angel!" he roars, his face contorting in pure ecstasy. "Take Daddy's fucking cum!"

You throw your head back, as you feel his hot seed filling your insides, your body greedily accepting his release. You moan softly, "Yes, Daddy... Breed me~”

He collapses forward slightly, still holding your hips tight as his cock continues to twitch, depositing every last drop of his seed. “Dirty little slut... look what you made me do... I’m fucking you full of cum...”

He slowly pulls out of you, watching as his thick, creamy seed spills out of your well-fucked hole. He smirks darkly, knowing he's marked you as his. "Look at that pretty little pussy, all stretched out and full of Daddy's cum. You're a mess, Angel. My dirty, fucked out little whore." He reaches down to spread your lips apart, showing off your leaking entrance. "This is what you are for me, sweetheart."

You nod, dazed and your mind foggy. He lays you on the bed before going to your bathroom, grabbing a warm wet cloth to clean you. He returns to the bedroom, his expression softening slightly as he approaches the bed where you lay sprawled and dazed. Kneeling between your thighs, he gently presses the warm, damp cloth against your overly sensitive pussy, cleaning you up.

After thoroughly cleaning you, he tosses the cloth aside and lies down beside you, pulling you into his strong arms. He holds you close, your head resting on his chest as he wraps a thick, muscular arm around you waist, keeping you snuggled against him.

“…You knew the whole time?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, a mixture of shock and disbelief woven into your words.

He stills for a moment, his hips pressed against yours, his weight grounding you beneath him. His heart beats a little faster, though his expression remains calm, composed. He looks down at you, his intense gaze piercing through your surprise as if daring you to question him further.

“Yes, Angel,” he says, his voice steady but low, laced with an edge of dominance that makes your stomach flip. “I knew. From the moment I first saw you, I recognized those big, innocent eyes. And when I heard your voice…” His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek, almost tender in contrast to the firm hold of his other hand on your hip. “I knew exactly who you were.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing to process his confession. All this time, you thought you were hidden behind the safety of your mask, your anonymity protecting you. But he had known—it was you, always you.

“Then why…” Your voice falters as you try to form the words, your cheeks burning with both embarrassment and the weight of his unwavering gaze.

“Why didn’t I say anything?” he finishes for you, his lips quirking into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His tone softens slightly, though it’s no less intense. “Because I wanted you to come to me willingly. I wanted you to need me the way I need you, Angel. And you did. You gave yourself to me, completely, without even knowing it.”

His words leave you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. His hand trails down to your jaw, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“And now,” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his lips brushing against yours, “there’s no going back. You’re mine, Angel. You’ve always been mine.”

His lips crash against yours, swallowing the gasp that escapes you as his hand tightens on your jaw. The kiss is anything but gentle— it's heated, desperate, and possessive, like he's staking his claim on you in a way words never could.

You melt beneath him, your hands instinctively reaching up to grasp his shoulders, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepens the kiss. His tongue slides against yours, commanding and insistent, leaving no room for hesitation or second-guessing.

The world outside fades away, the only thing grounding you to reality being the feel of his body pressed against yours and the relentless intensity of his kiss. When he finally pulls back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rests against yours, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that leaves you trembling.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice rough, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.

"Say it."

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "I'm yours," you whisper, your voice unsteady but sincere.

He smirks, his lips finding yours again, this time softer, slower, but no less consuming.

The kiss is deliberate, his every movement a reminder of the power he holds over you— and the hold you clearly have over him.

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the massacre at hawkins lab

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.” “I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.” “It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.” “Again, I’m trying not to think about that.

Summary: bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.

Rating: general, some swearing, violence

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, blood and gore, critical injuries, mentions of fainting, mentions of death and violence, description of corpses

Words: 11.9k

Before you swing in: ive never been more excited to write a chapter tbh. this episode touches on so many things ive been building up for seasons now !!!! insane !!! im so so so excited to see how yall react. this chapter has my favorite sequence of scenes yet ;) enjoy !

–

His name rips from your mouth. “Steve!” 

The bats sink their fangs into his stomach. His legs kick out, he gasps for breath, choking on his pain. Your legs threaten to give out as you stumble towards Steve. Quickly your fingers find the knives you always carry with you just as a bat lunges towards you.

Barely having time to dodge its quick attack, you swat at the creature, but your knives slide off its skin easily. Your heart drops; their flesh is too thick to cut through. The bat screeches at you, its teeth bared, and you throw your body weight against it onto the ground. Angling your knife, you pierce the inside of its mouth, killing it. 

“Shit!” Another bat crawls towards you. Your elbow scrapes the ground as you roll out of its path, slicing into the creature’s maw. 

Steve screams again, this time even louder as even more bats surround him. Frantic, you jump to your feet. Without thinking, you grab the tail of one of the bats, its face buried in Steve’s stomach. When you start to pull, Steve shakes his head violently and throws his arm out at you. “Go!”

You don’t bother answering; you’re not leaving him. 

The bat’s tail cuts your palms as you pry it off of Steve’s flesh, but as soon as it’s removed, it latches onto your upper thigh. ��Fuck!”

Razor sharp pain shoots through your entire body. The bat loosens its jaw to only tighten it more; you can feel its teeth hit your bone. Screaming, the white-hot pain blinds you. Your knees give out and you fall before you can catch yourself.

“Y/N!” Steve chokes out, desperate. He clenches his jaw, tries to get up. More bats screech overhead, circling you, and Steve knows you only have seconds before you’re dead. But the vines around his neck constrict even more. His airway closes, another bat takes the other one’s place on his stomach. 

“Motherfucker!” You stab at the bat, but then a second one slams against your body and your shoulder explodes with pain. “Fuck-no,” you try to twist around, to use the last of your strength to remove it from your own skin, but it’s no use. The bats tear at your skin, ripping through muscle and ligaments. 

Lightning flashes, its light red mars the endless dark blue sky. Above you, a bat screeches, signaling its descent, before it dives towards you at full speed. Your eyes close, you hope death will be quick. 

“Get fucked!” Someone screams, a sickening thud following. Opening your eyes, you see the creature’s body get thrown into the air. Eddie stands above you, smiling wickedly, but as soon as he sees the two other bats gnawing on you, he brings his oar over his head and swings. 

You look away, scared he’ll miss, and see Nancy and Robin a few feet away. Nancy holds the other oar, working with Robin to kill the swarm of bats that encase Steve’s body. Seeing them makes you want to cry in sweet relief. 

The sound of the bats’ pained cries echo in your ears. It takes several attempts before Eddie manages to get them off of you. The bat’s teeth cut deeply with every attack, causing you to cry out in pain. It’s fucking agonizing. Warm blood follows a sickening tearing sensation in your leg.

When Eddie has killed both bats, he helps you stand up. “Jesus, you alright?”

“Talk later,” you grunt, already rushing to go help Nancy and Robin. “Fight now.”

Eddie doesn’t stop you. He swings his oar again and Robin begs you to help. She has a bat pinned down while Nancy pounds her oar into its face, but it won’t fucking die. Its tail has wrapped itself around Steve’s neck and he’s paler than you’ve ever seen him. 

But before you can gut the piece of shit creature, another bat pounces on Nancy. Its claws tear her skin and she yelps. You scream her name and catch her before she falls. “I got you.”

Nancy’s hands clutch your body as you stab the bat. “Get it off me!”

“I’m trying!” The bat won’t let go, screeching with every pull. Biting down, you ignore the searing pain as your palms get cut up even more. Robin tries to help, but you scream at her. “No! Help Steve!”

She nods quickly and it’s a mess of fighting and screeches and blood. Steve bites down on the bat’s tail, its jaw opens as it squeals, giving him just enough time to escape. As he rolls to the side, Robin throws the bat’s body onto the ground. 

Seeing Steve safe reinvigorates you, and with one final scream, you use everything within you to pull the bat off of Nancy’s back. It releases her skin with a squelching pop. You force your knife down its throat and pin the creature to the ground. It writhes beneath you. “Now, Nancy!”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Go to hell!” Her oar slams down, killing it.

Behind you Eddie kills the remaining few bats that circle overhead. Steve stands next to you, slamming the final bat into the ground. The body lands with a loud smack against the concrete and Steve rips the carcass in half. 

Blood drips from his mouth and he messily spits it away. He’s panting, his stomach is on fire, he’s stuck in some alternate dimension with no way out, but all he can focus on is you. 

Flesh hangs from your shoulder, leaving behind a gaping wound of exposed muscle. Your thigh is torn clean through. There’s blood everywhere. The white of your tanktop is now soaked in red. But you’re here, you’re alive. He hasn’t lost you. Not yet, at least.

“Y/N–” Steve practically falls against you, and you’re no better yourself. You’re crying, snot runs down your face as you grab desperately at him. His hands are all over you as he tries to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much blood. 

“I-I’m here.” Your hands are all over Steve’s body, too. They cup his waist, there are so many bite marks on him, but at least his flesh is warm under your skin. He’s still here, he’s still yours, and now all you want to do is calm him down. Steve is panicking, holding you as if he’s afraid you’ll die in his arms any second, and the fear on his face makes your chest ache. 

“Are you guys okay?” Nancy asks, tentatively touching your shoulder. A wince slips from her lips when she sees the flesh that is no longer there. “Jesus, Y/N.”

Steve wraps his hands around your thigh, it’s bleeding the most and you can barely put any weight on it. “I’m fine, but they took a fucking pound of flesh from her.”

“You’re no better,” you’ve placed your own hands over his stomach, his blood warm against your fingers. “I think you lost your appendix.”

Steve laughs, but almost immediately his laugh turns into a groan. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

You apologize, kissing his shoulder. Light catches your attention and you see Robin crouched down next to one of the bat carcasses. She looks up at everyone. “Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?”

“Robin, if we have rabies, please promise me you’ll shoot me.” You tell her, dead serious. Rabies has always terrified you. When you were younger, a rabid fox made its way onto your grandparents' farm. It had killed all the chickens, attacked the herding dog they had, and you remember how distraught your father had been when he had to kill both the fox and the hound. 

“I’m sure you and Steve don’t have rabies.” Nancy says, sensing your growing fear. But before she can say anything else a small group of bats descend from the sky.

Steve pushes you behind him. They land near the gate you fell through, screeching at the five of you. They’re a small enough group, Steve voices what you’re all thinking: you can handle them. Flicking your knives out, you prepare for what’s about to come. 

Until a swarm grows larger in the distance. There’s easily hundreds of them, they cast a shadow below where they fly. There’s too many to fight. 

“You were saying?” Robin breathes out, eyes never leaving the sky.

Steve is speechless, he doesn’t know what to do. His hand tightens around you, protective, but thankfully Nancy has a plan. She tells everyone to run towards the woods and none of you hesitate to follow. Steve swings your legs over his arms, picking you up with ease despite the bite wounds that litter his skin. Like hell he’s letting you run right now; you’re too torn up, you can hardly even walk. 

As Steve runs with you in his arms, he’s careful to avoid the vines that creep over the ground. It’s a dizzying rush. All you can do is hold tightly onto him, trusting that Nancy knows where she’s taking you. 

Deep into the woods, Nancy calls over her shoulder, “Over here!”

Lifting your head from Steve’s chest, you realize, as you always do, that Nancy Wheeler is a goddamn genius. She’s taken you all to Skull Rock.

The giant boulders form a small alcove, just big enough to hide under as the bats fly overhead. She instructs everyone to crawl under and Steve sets you down gently, positioning you so that you’re sitting with your back against the rock. As soon as you’re secure, Steve’s hand goes back to your thigh.

The sound of the bats is almost deafening. No one dares to speak. They fly over at such a gruesome speed, their screeches echoing off the trees. You lose count of how many there are. All you can do is wait for the last of them to leave.

More lightning strikes above. It shakes the ground, the sound reverberates in your skull. You can’t believe you’re here. You’re in the Upside Down. The place you’ve only ever spoken about, the entity that haunted your nightmares and took the ones you loved from you.

It’s so much colder than you imagined it to be. Everything is darker, more twisted. The dimension is exactly as Will once described to you: this is Hawkins, it’s your home, but different. Colder, scarier. These woods are the woods you walked through, the woods where you fell in love, and yet the trees loom over you in a threatening way. Their branches form spikes, the dirt recoils against your feet. 

Nothing here feels warm. The darkness is never ending. 

This is where Will was, all by himself, for a week. 

He had only been twelve. 

When the nightmare swarm of bats is finally over, Robin carefully pokes her head out from the alcove. “Okay, that was close.”

Eddie agrees, kicking at a rock. Steve offers you his hand to stand, but the moment your skin touches his, you feel sick. All the adrenaline from earlier leaves you. All the blood you’ve lost catches up, leaving your body weak. Stumbling, your vision tunnels and your eyes roll back. 

“Woah, hey.” Steve breaks your fall, snapping his fingers in your face to bring your attention back to him. He’s weak as well, he has to lean heavily against the rock to steady himself. “Y/N-shit!”

“Steve?” Nancy turns around, finding you and him moments away from collapsing. She curses, rushing over. When she sees all the blood that still pours from your thigh, she gags. “Oh, fuck.”

“Keep… keep talking. Please.” Your breathing is labored, you can hardly form any words. “Keep talking to me. If-if I faint… embarrassing.”

“I think she’s losing it.” Eddie whispers rather loudly to Robin. 

Nancy grazes Steve’s chest, silently asking him to move your body aside. She wants to get a closer look at his wounds as well, she can’t help you if he’s bleeding out himself, but he refuses. “No, no we need to help Y/N.”

“Steve, you’re also losing blood–”

“I don’t care.” Steve pulls you even closer to his chest, he needs to feel your rib cage rising and falling. He needs to feel you breathe. “Help her, Nancy.”

His outburst startles Nancy. She takes a step back, alarmed, but clenches her jaw. There’s no getting through to Steve; she knows she’s lost the fight. “At least sit her down.”

Steve collapses, sliding back against the rock with you tucked to his chest. With shaking hands, he forces you to sit next to him. You wince with every movement, it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake.

“Stay with me, angel.” Steve murmurs to you, motioning to Nancy to look down at your thigh. The wound is bleeding the most, the teeth sunk in the deepest. 

“Don’t wanna faint,” your head sags to the side, exhausted. “So embarrassing.”

Nancy places her hands unsurely to your thigh. The blood squelches, soaking through your jeans. She exhales shakily. “You’re not-you’re not going to faint, okay? Just keep talking, Y/N.”

“Hate bats.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems to settle Nancy’s unease and Steve’s worry. “Little fuckers hurt.”

Nancy tears the end of her shirt, her nimble fingers gently lift your injured leg. She ties the piece of fabric tight around your thigh, quelling the bleeding. Steve helps with the knot, though really he just needs something to do. 

“If you want some good news, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin crouches next to you, smiling despite how terrified she is. “So that’s something, right?”

You yelp when Nancy tightens the tourniquet. Biting your tongue, you force a smile to Robin. “Hooray.”

“There,” Nancy wipes her hands of your blood. The tourniquet isn’t much, but already the bleeding has subsided. “But I think you’re going to need stitches.”

“I’m tired of hospitals,” you whine, but you’re already feeling a bit better. You’re weak, sure, but at least your body isn’t slowly draining itself out. “Thanks, though.”

Nancy nods, smiling softly, before her eyes land on Steve’s stomach. “Can I finally patch you up?”

Steve doesn’t even look at her, instead cups your face. Even though you’re covered in blood and sweat and tears, even though your cheek is scabbed and your lip is split, he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful. “You alright?”

“Been better,” you admit, squeezing his arm. “But let’s worry about you now.” Turning to Nancy, you extend your arm. “Got any more torn pieces of clothing?”

She bites her lip. The only thing covering your body is your tank top. She’s seen the cuts all over your palms. She doesn’t think you’ll be able to wrap the cloth around Steve, if she’s being honest. But she also knows Steve and how fiercely he loves you. He won’t let anyone near him but you. 

Finally, she sighs. Tearing off more of her shirt, she hands it to you. “Yeah, here.”

You thank Nancy again, and she gives you a curt nod before backing away, giving you and Steve some space. Once she’s gone, you tend to Steve’s injuries. When he moves his hand away and reveals raised, angry flesh, you inhale sharply. “Steve…”

“Just a flesh wound.” He jokes, but you can hear the pain in his voice. 

Though you’re still dizzy and weak, you manage to lift Steve’s body enough to wrap the makeshift bandage around him. Luckily he isn’t bleeding as badly as you are, but the sight of him injured still leaves you nauseous. 

Tying the fabric around his torso, you’re careful not to hurt him any more. The moment is familiar, reminiscent of the years before. Back in the junkyard when a Demodog nearly tore open your rib cage, Steve had been the one to take care of you. He had so carefully wrapped your cardigan around your chest, been so delicate with you, and now it’s your turn to do the same for him. 

“We always end up here, don’t we?” You say softly, it still takes a lot of energy for you to speak. You finish tying a knot to secure the bandage and Steve looks at you oddly. He doesn’t understand, and you shrug. “You and me, patching each other’s wounds up.”

Steve’s eyes soften. It doesn’t matter where he could be, in what situation he could be stuck in, you always somehow remind him of how loved he is. “Kinda wish the bats had eaten my ribs instead. We could’ve had matching scars.”

You laugh, eyes shining with tears. Fresh pain explodes all over your body, but you laugh anyways. You don’t know why you’re laughing or why tears run down your face. The exhaustion and pain from today must finally be catching up to you. “How romantic.”

Steve laughs as well, the pain of it bearable when he hears your laughter mixing with his. “I love you, angel.”

“I love you, too, honey.” It’s so cold in the Upside Down, but the warmth of Steve’s love feels like sunshine kissing your skin. 

Robin clears her throat. “Uh, not to ruin this cute moment, but I just wanted to say that if either of you start feeling aggressive, please let me know. Because, ya know. The threat of rabies still.”

“I kinda wanna punch you.” Steve looks at her pointedly, annoyed. 

You poke his cheek and smile apologetically at Robin. “He didn’t mean that.”

“Sense of humor is still intact, that’s a good sign!” She cheers, then, as an afterthought, she takes off her flannel and hands it to you. “Also, figured you’d want this. Not that you aren’t totally hot right now in only a tiny tank top and blood all over you, it’s just freakishly cold down here and you technically have an exposed wound on your shoulder and who knows what sorts of awful flesh eating diseases there are here.” 

You accept the flannel gratefully and thank her. Then, together, you and Steve stand up. The process is difficult, you only have one functional top and bottom, and you walk in a slow manner together as you lean against the other. 

Up ahead, Eddie is standing on one of the boulders, staring out into the vast dimension. “So, uh. This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Basically.” You respond, grunting as you support Steve’s upper body. 

Eddie nods, defeated, and before he can step down, Nancy tells him to be careful of the vines. “It’s all a hive mind.”

When Eddie doesn’t understand, Steve tries to explain it to him. “All the creepy crawlies here, dude. They’re like, one or something.”

“They’re all interconnected. They can feel each other’s pain, feelings, whatever.” You say, remembering how Jonathan had described Will’s agonizing screams when the vines had been burned in the tunnels.

“Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve finishes grimly. 

Eddie smiles sarcastically, obviously displeased with this information, but he’s careful not to step on any vines on his way down. 

“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asks.

You nod. “According to Will, yeah.”

This pleases Robin, and she starts explaining her plan. If everything's the same in the Upside Down, then you should be able to use the guns stored away at Hawkins’ police station. With the ammunition stored there, it’d be more than enough to kill the bats that guard the gate back to Hawkins. 

“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve says skeptically. “But guns? Sure.”

You shake your head. While Robin’s idea is good, there’s still the issue of going all the way downtown from Skull Rock. The five of you barely made it half a mile without getting killed. There’s no way you’d survive three. “But the police station is downtown. That’s too far from here.”

Robin deflates, but Nancy furrows her brows. After thinking for a moment, her eyes light up. “We don’t have to go all the way downtown. I have guns. In my bedroom.”

God you love her.

Eddie scoffs in disbelief. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns… plural? In your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin says with pride.

“And this is why we always listen to her.” You sing along, high fiving Robin. 

Nancy doesn’t acknowledge you or Robin, but her cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “A Russian Makarov and a revolver.”

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve reminds her, though his tone is gentle, almost teasing.

You laugh, remembering how terrified he had been when Nancy pointed the gun at him. You all had been so much younger, more naive. All he wanted to do was apologize to Jonathan for their fight earlier. Steve had just wanted to make things right, and that’s why you stepped in front of him that night. “Luckily for you, I was there to save your life.” 

Steve looks down at you fondly. He pulls you close, his eyes are full of so much love. He remembers everything. The night that started it all. “And then I saved yours.”

To think that a sprained ankle and a bat full of nails would lead you to here: Steve’s warm chest against you, so full of love.

Lost in your warm memories, neither you nor Steve see Eddie throwing his vest at Steve’s face until it’s too late. The material smacks against him, cruelly bringing the two of you back to reality. 

“What the fuck, Eddie?” You sneer at him, deeply annoyed. 

He waves at you flirtatiously, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I’m protecting your boyfriend’s modesty for you.”

Before you can retaliate, the ground beneath you starts to shake. The force of it is so sudden, so strong, that it sends you and everyone else falling. Steve catches himself on a rock, holding you tightly to his chest, and you manage to catch Nancy before she falls as well. Eddie grabs onto Robin, stuck on the ground together.

The tremors are violent. There’s a cracking sound, branches fall behind you as the earthquake destroys whatever it can. Steve holds you through it, he whispers reassurances to try and calm you. When it’s over everything is quiet for a moment, before a loud, heart stopping shriek cuts into the night.

It doesn’t sound like any creature you’ve faced before. Far too loud to be a Demodog’s, far too large to be a bat’s. The thought of what it could be almost paralyzes you; it could’ve been the Mind Flayer. 

“Guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie finally says, panting. 

Robin quickly agrees, and you swallow down the bile that rises in your throat. “Yeah, okay. I can be okay with guns.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Steve puts Eddie’s vest on, twirling a flashlight in his hand. He nods to himself, tries to convince himself that he’s as confident as he sounds. He extends his other arm towards you, helping you steady your balance. “Let’s go.”

And you follow. 

– 

It’s a long walk from Skull Rock to Nancy’s house; it’s an even longer walk when you’re in the Upside Down, hiding from demonic bats. With every branch that snaps beneath someone’s foot, you all jump. The croak of whatever creature nearby sets everyone on edge. 

“Couldn’t we have tried a road or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin complains, jumping over a vine. 

Leaning against Steve, you groan. “Anything would be less creepy than this.”

“I think we’re getting close,” Nancy tries to sound convincing, but even she’s uneasy. “We’re almost out of here. Don’t worry.”

Robin nods at the reassurance, but you can’t help but wonder what could possibly come next after you find Nancy’s guns. It’d be two guns, two critically injured members of the group, two oars, and one switchblade against an army of bats.

Not the best odds. 

Nancy and Robin wander further ahead, leaving you behind with Steve and Eddie. None of you talk, more so because you’re putting all your energy into not falling on your face and Steve is busy helping you stay upright.

Walking is difficult and painful and you’re so frustrated by it all, especially after you trip over your fourth tree root. If it weren’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, you’d be long dead by now.

Eddie must recognize this, too.

“Here, let me just–” He comes next to you and throws your arm over his shoulders before either you or Steve can protest. Immediately the pressure on your injured leg lessens. You sigh in content, and Eddie smirks. “There ya go, princess.”

“Don’t call her that.” Steve snaps, but even he has to admit that Eddie’s help is needed. With him carrying half your weight, Steve is able to breathe a little easier. You’re better balanced this way. He’s no longer straining his injuries to support you. 

Eddie winces. “I’m sorry, just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but the silence stretches on and you feel bad for Eddie. He really is trying. Despite the fact that he’s Hawkins’ most wanted, he still tries to make everyone else laugh. He has to know that he’s never getting out of this alive, and you admire the strength it must take to continue laughing anyways. 

So you try to for him as well. “Thank you, by the way. You saved our lives back there.”

Eddie looks at you funny, he hadn’t expected you to acknowledge it. “Shit, Steve saved his own ass, man.”

“That’s true,” you laugh. By the time the fight finished, Steve had somehow managed to fight his way out by himself. “It was impressive.”

“No it wasn’t.” 

Eddie scoffs at Steve’s dismissal. “Please, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?” Steve looks at you, silently asking for some type of explanation, but you shrug. 

“All I know is that he’s in Black Sabbath.” Jonathan occasionally listened to the band whenever he was particularly angry, but not enough for you to understand Eddie’s obscure reference. 

Eddie makes a surprised, but pleased, sound. “Honestly surprised you even know Black Sabbath, but c’mon. Ozzy Osbourne, he bit a bat’s head off onstage. You seriously haven’t heard about that?”

You and Steve stare at him blankly, and he sighs. “Well, it was very metal. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Steve scoffs again, but deep down you know he’s preening. It’s not everyday someone commends his strength or recognizes how well he can hold his own. Steve has come a long way since his first fight with Jonathan back at the alley. 

“I think I finally get why my brother likes you so much,” you tell Eddie, looking up at him curiously. “You know a lot of weird facts. He goes crazy for them.”

That, and you’re finding that Eddie isn’t so bad when he isn’t surrounded by his goonies. He’s actually… decent when he isn’t putting on a show for everyone. It’s almost reminiscent of how Steve had once been, back when he was the King. 

But if you ever pointed out that similarity to the boys, you know they’d be deeply offended. 

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tilt up. “Yeah, well. The kid adores you and practically worships Steve.”

“He does?” Steve almost sounds bashful at the idea of Dustin worshiping him. It makes your heart constrict. You both miss your brother terribly. 

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. Especially when all he talks about is Y/N. If he isn’t talking about you, he’s talking about her.”

“I doubt that’s true,” you shake your head. “He doesn’t need me anymore, he’s practically counting down the days until I leave.”

“Nah, man. Dustin tells me all the time how much he’ll miss you when you leave.” Eddie tells you, voice firm. “Kid always talks about how much you look out for him, that he doesn’t know what he’ll do when you’re gone. In a way, it’s annoyingly endearing. He frets over you just as much as you fret over him. I can see the Henderson charm in him that made you Hawkins’ sweetheart.” 

Everything that Eddie tells you leaves your throat sticky with tears. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know all Dustin said about you. For the longest time you thought he’d grown to hate you, to resent you the way kids often do with their family. You would’ve never blamed him; sometimes people just grow up, grow apart, but here Eddie is, telling you that your brother will miss you when you’re gone. 

Unable to say anything in fear that you’ll cry, the only response you give Eddie is a curt, short nod.

Steve rubs your side tenderly, understanding all you’re unable to say. Eddie feels the touch against his own side and he clears his throat. He knows you want him to change the subject. “Admittedly, I got a little jealous. Hearing the little shrimp talk about you as if you hung the goddamn stars yourself.” 

The irony of it all crashes upon you. While you had been jealous of Eddie, he had been jealous of you. The two of you spent months quarreling over Dustin, you’d been uncharacteristically mean to Eddie, and yet the entire time you envied the other. 

Abandonment can make people cruel. 

“I was jealous of you, too.” You finally reveal to Eddie, meeting his eyes for the first time tonight. 

Eddie stares back at you, his expression softens with understanding. He seems to have pieced together what you have: your anger had never been cruel, only defensive. Protective of your brother the way only a sister would in fear of losing him. 

“Guess that makes us both idiots, huh?” Eddie teases gently, accepting the offering of truce that you present to him. 

You laugh, looking away. The moment of truce is nice, pleasant almost, until the beat of silence becomes too unbearable for you. You’ve revealed enough of yourself tonight. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you lift your arm from Eddie’s shoulder and pull away. “Robin is probably missing me right now. She hates the dark, these woods are her worst nightmare.”

Steve catches your arm before you leave. You’re still unsteady on your feet, but he understands what you’re trying to do. He’s come to learn that you shut away when you’re vulnerable. While you wear your heart on your sleeve, Steve knows that it can be exhausting for you. 

“Need me to call her over?” He asks you quietly.

“No, I can manage.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, thanking him without having to say it. Eddie smiles at you as you leave, tight lipped, but kind nonetheless. 

The two teens watch you slowly make your way over to Robin, who happily welcomes your presence. She wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly, giggling slightly, before holding you close and helping you walk. 

“I’ll bring her back in one piece!” Robin calls to Steve, giggling under her breath. Steve waves his hand sarcastically, but doesn’t argue. Turning to you, Robin’s face shines in the blue moonlight. “You here to save me from this totally creepy, absolutely horrid woods?”

“Duh,” your laughter reflects hers. “I’m your knight in shining armor, babe.”

Robin squeezes your hand, resting her head against yours as you walk together. It’s been a long time since you’ve held each other like this. The realization makes you guilty. “How’ve you been holding up?”

Robin shrugs, the motion jostles your head, but you don’t mind. “We’re in the Upside Down, some guy named Vecna wants you and Max dead, and you refuse to admit that you’re scared.”

You bite your lip. Robin is just as worried for you as Steve is, she’s just hidden it better, and you wish that you could spare her the worry. She’s put up such a strong front for you. Between Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max, Robin knew you didn’t want yet another person coddling you.

So she stepped back, gave you the space you wanted, but you’re still her best friend. Robin won’t let you forget that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, holding onto her as tightly as she holds onto you. 

Robin shrugs again. “Nothing to forgive, pretty girl.”

And it’s as simple as that.

Though Steve can’t hear your conversation, he watches you and Robin fondly. The two of you sway together, laughing occasionally. Eddie notices the way Steve looks at you and laughs to himself. 

“You know, I was jealous of you, too.”

Steve raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“I was jealous of you and Henderson, the little one, I mean. Guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. I mean, rich parents, popular, chicks love him, not a douche? No way dude. That like, flies in the face of all laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Then Eddie motions towards you. “And when you started dating Y/N? C’mon, man. Everyone knows Y/N Henderson is like, God’s gift to selflessness. I watched her tutor kids in the library like goddamn Gandhi, and suddenly she’s dating you? There isn’t any law in the universe to explain that. Fucking unfair.”

Though he knows he should be offended, Steve finds himself laughing. If he’s being honest, he’s relieved that someone else is questioning whether Steve deserves you. From the moment he met you, you’ve tried convincing him that he’s always deserved you. But Steve knows better, and he can’t believe it’s Eddie Munson who sees this, too. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I also don’t know why Y/N chose me.” Steve confesses, catching Eddie’s attention. “Honestly, I don’t think I ever would’ve been someone she even liked had we not been dragged into the Upside Down together. I was a douchebag. She hated me for years, but I guess saving her life a few times earned me some brownie points.” 

Eddie snorts. “Surprised you’re not claiming it was your ‘stunningly good looks’ that made Y/N fall for you. Oh how humble you’ve become.”

“Y/N changed me.” Steve’s eyes find your body again. They will always draw towards you no matter where you are.

The sincerity in Steve’s voice surprises Eddie. Licking his lips, he sighs. “Well whatever she did, I never would’ve jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any normal circumstances.” A branch snaps, Steve and Eddie turn to its source, but there’s nothing there. Sighing again, Eddie continues to walk. “Outside of DnD, I’m no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run… at least, that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

Steve doesn’t know where Eddie is going with this. “Hey, give yourself a break, man.”

Eddie points to you, Robin, and Nancy walking up ahead. “No, you see. The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Y/N? She dove in the second your head went under. Nearly tore Robin’s arm off trying to get to you.”

Something heavy settles in Steve’s chest. There’s a shift, there’s something that simmers deep into his rib cage. 

Eddie forces Steve to look at him. “I don’t know how you did it, but she loves you. The way she was screaming your name, it was an unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. And if someone like Y/N Henderson loves you… then I figured you must be worth saving.”

Steve’s breath stutters. He looks up at you again, the warmth that cascades his veins whenever he sees you overwhelms him. Steve loves you more than anything. To be told how deeply you love him by someone else is almost too much. 

You and Steve have been fighting so much recently. He’s said awful things to you, you’ve hurt him in ways he hadn’t known he could hurt. All the unspoken words, all the uncertainty and fear, and yet you dove in to save Steve without hesitating. 

And isn’t that all that love is? To love without expectations, without hesitancy. Love is the inability to separate your breath from the person’s lungs; you took all the air out of Steve’s chest the moment you smiled at him. 

You’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to Steve. He’s always known this, he’s always known that what the two of you have is special. It’s something more than just young love. 

So what if the future you envision doesn’t align with Steve’s? How could something so small, so miniscule as compared to forever with you, be what Steve allows to drive you away? You deserve more than just his insecurities. You’ve already decided that Steve deserves your love, what more can he want from you?

He already has you; Steve won’t let you walk away from him. Not this time, not when what you have is rare and real and raw. 

Steve almost wants to laugh at how funny it is. He’d been so worried about losing you, that he almost lost you in the process. What’s even worse: it took a five minute conversation with fucking Eddie Munson to even realize it. 

“Y/N, she’s–” Steve begins, but the ground starts to shake again and he’s falling. Eddie curses, sick of these earthquakes, and Steve braces himself as the rumbling continues. 

Robin struggles to hold onto you as you cower together under the earth’s violent shaking. Instinctively your head turns toward Steve to make sure he’s okay. You find him on the ground next to Eddie. Sensing your eyes on him, Steve looks up and nods reassuringly at you. Relieved, you breathe against Robin. 

“Second on my list of least favorite things,” she says, voice shaking. “Earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”

“At least you have two working legs.” You quip.

Robin shushes you, but her voice raises when she sees Nancy stand and take off. “Nancy!”

Squinting at the darkness, you see the girl’s figure disappearing into the treeline. She’s running alarmingly fast, way too fast for anyone to catch up in time, and your heart lurches. None of you should be splitting up right now. It isn’t safe. “Fuck! Someone stop her!”

Robin quickly throws you onto your feet and you call after Steve and Eddie to follow. If running was difficult with a bleeding out leg, it’s almost impossible with the ground shaking beneath you. But if Nancy’s in trouble, you need to get to her as soon as you can. Leg be damned.

Breaking through the treeline, you find her standing at the edge of a clearing. There are fallen trees everywhere. Red lightning illuminates the Wheeler house before you. By some miracle, you’ve made it.

“Come on.” Nancy breaks the silence, chin held high. She isn’t giving up now, not when you’re all so close. 

She starts to walk, never looking back, and you look at Steve. He grabs your hand. You take a deep breath. You fucking hope Nancy’s plan works. 

This is your only chance of going home.

– 

The Wheeler house is exactly how you remember it, only vines and debris maims its usually pristine appearance. Nancy walks through the door first while Steve shines a flashlight. Particles float everywhere. You try not to think about the fact that you’re inhaling them.

Your foot catches on a stray vine, its tendrils flail angrily at you. Stomping your foot away, you look wearily at Nancy. “Love the decor.”

She rolls her eyes while Robin echoes you. “Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.”

Ignoring the two of you, Nancy ushers everyone upstairs. While her voice is level, the unease in her body is apparent. She doesn’t like seeing her home this way. Sympathetic, you start to follow Nancy, but for a split second you think you hear Dustin’s voice.

It’s faint, mostly incoherent, and you think you’ve finally gone crazy. That’s it. Vecna has won, you’ve lost the remaining sanity you had left. 

But then Steve suddenly freezes next to you. His bewilderment tells you that he hears Dustin, too. That’s your brother. You’d know his nasally voice anywhere.

Sharing a look with Steve, you simultaneously begin running around the house, trying to follow the sound of Dustin’s voice. You remember Will telling you how he could hear Joyce’s cries for him while he’d been trapped in the Upside Down. It had been the only way Joyce could communicate with him. What if this is the same?

“Start screaming,” you command Steve, limping over to one of the walls. 

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s what Will did, he-he screamed for his mom and Joyce was able to hear him.” You press our mouth close to the wall and shout, “Dustin!” 

He has to hear you. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.

Steve wastes no time following along, screaming Dustin’s name at the top of his lungs as well. You know the two of you must look like complete idiots, but you’re desperate.

“Dustin! Dustin Henderson you have five seconds to answer me!” You yell, throat burning.

“Hello? Answer us!” Steve stands in the center of the kitchen, crouched down as if getting ready to bolt. 

This is how Nancy, Robin, and Eddie find you. The three of them stare at you and Steve in concern, though none of them want to get any closer. Robin ducks her head down, whispers, “Maybe they really do have rabies.”

“What are you guys doing?” Nancy demands, fed up. 

“He’s here,” Steve whips his flashlight around, facing them. “Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like-he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.”

Dustin, predictably, is quiet the moment Steve tells everyone to listen. 

You pound on the wall. “Oh, now you’re quiet?” Everyone looks at you skeptically and you rub your face tiredly. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but I can hear Dustin, alright? It’s him.”

“Dustin!” Steve continues to screech, not helping your whole “we aren’t crazy” argument. 

Only Dustin’s voice returns, and thankfully Nancy and everyone else hears it. Together you all search the house, calling your brother’s name out. Yet now matter how loud you scream, he doesn’t respond.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve drops his flashlight.

You blow hair out of your face. “Normally he’s a douchebag, but not nearly to this extent.”

Nancy stands next to you. “But Will found a way to make Joyce listen.”

“When Joyce couldn’t hear him anymore, she used the Christmas lights.” You look at her. “Do you think…?”

She’s already running to the nearest lamp in the kitchen. Flicking the switch, nothing happens. You suggest trying a different light, though you know it won’t make a difference. When the lights remain unlit, you slam your palm against the table in frustration. 

“Guys?” Steve gets your attention. He’s shining his flashlight at the chandelier that hangs over the Wheeler’s dining table. “You seeing this?”

Where Steve points his flashlight, a warm, evanescent glow emits from the chandelier. You gasp at its beauty, you’ve never seen anything like it. Nancy steps towards the light and slowly puts her hand into the loose waves that flow between the lights. It’s encased in small orbs that float gently into the air. 

Nancy’s fingers dance in the light. A path of gold leaves a trail where her fingers have been. The particles in the light surround her hand, pulled in by her presence. Breathless, you reach out as well. The light kisses your hand, and the sensation is soft, almost ticklish. 

“This is insane,” you murmur in awe, face illuminated. You never thought you’d encounter beauty in such a place as the Upside Down. But at least Will found the beauty, too. “This must be how Will did it.”

Robin, Steve, and Eddie copy you and Nancy, putting their hands into the light as well. The five of you twirl your fingers around, causing the light to flicker with every movement. 

Steve’s pinky reaches for yours. “It… tickles?” 

“It kinda feels good.” Mumbles Robin, making figure 8’s with her finger. 

Nancy then lowers her hand and asks if anyone knows morse code. She mostly looks at you when you ask, and you bitterly tell her no. You’d think after everything you and the party have been through, you’d at least learn morse code by now. 

“Wait, does SOS count?” 

Eddie’s stupid question makes you hit his chest. “Of course it counts!”

“Ow!” He shoves you away from him, straightening his leather jacket. “A ‘yes” would’ve sufficed.”

Nancy shushes the two of you and instructs Eddie to start typing out the code. With a huff, he listens, and soon he begins the pattern for SOS. A soft buzz accompanies every flicker of the light. With each letter combination, you can practically feel Dustin getting closer and closer to you. 

It’s almost an indescribable feeling. Somewhere, in another universe, Dustin is standing right where you are. You aren’t sure how you know, maybe you’ll never be able to find the right words, but your brother’s presence settles over your own. 

This must be how Jonathan felt when Joyce was in the Upside Down. He whispered her name so softly when he followed her with the lights. Their love for one another tethered them; now it’s your love for Dustin that tethers him to you. 

“Dustin,” his name comes out whispered, relieved. He’s okay, you can feel that he’s safe. 

“Y/N?” Dustin’s muffled shouting fills everyone with relief. Steve and Eddie high five, Nancy lets out the breath she’d been holding, and Robin cheers while you hastily wipe your eyes. The SOS worked. “Is that-is that you?”

“Yes!” Steve screams into the chandelier, though you know your brother won’t be able to hear.

Anxious to get to Dustin as fast as you can, you shove your hands into the chandelier’s light and send a long, bright beam of light. More muffled screaming can be heard on the other side, only this time laughter accompanies it.

“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims in awe. The amazement in his voice makes you miss him even more. There’s a murmur of other voices, you can only assume one of them is Lucas’, before Dustin shouts even louder, “We’re gonna find you a better light source. Don’t move.”

You roll your eyes. “Like we can go anywhere else.”

Dustin leaves again, but he’s back within minutes. Through loud screaming, he tells you to find Holly’s Lite Brite and go to Nancy’s room. Him and Lucas will meet the rest of you there. 

The moment Dustin leaves again, Nancy shoves everyone upstairs. “I’ll find the light pad, the rest of you go. Now.” 

And that’s how you find yourself restlessly staring at a child’s light up toy on Nancy Wheeler’s bed with Steve’s chest pressed against your back. He leans close to the toy, mumbling under his breath, “Come on, little Henderson.”

The Lite Brite suddenly comes to life. You throw your hands up triumphantly, giddy. “Yes!”

“You guys seeing this?” Dustin asks, to which Nancy responds by putting her hand into the light. Dustin squeals in excitement. This must be a scientific dream for him. “Okay, we’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by.”

The light fades away and Dustin prompts someone to spell something. Everyone turns to you. He’s your brother, you should be the one to make first contact. 

Carefully, you use your pointer finger to spell out D.U.S.T.

Eddie cocks his head. “‘Dust’?”

“He’ll understand.” 

When your mom first brought Dustin home from the hospital, he’d been so small. Immediately you fell in love with the small baby, but his size had confused you. You’d never seen anything so tiny before. 

“He’s small,” you informed your father, making a face at the yawning baby before you. “Like dust.”

You were only three, but you can still remember the way your dad had laughed. For years afterwards you never referred to Dustin by his actual name. He was only ever “Dust” to you. Your father joined, the nickname stuck, though your mother came to prefer “Dusty.”

It was only after your father left that you stopped calling your brother Dust. 

“Dust!” Dustin laughs excitedly. “I’m Dust! Yes!” He raises his voice louder, he can’t believe you remembered the old childhood nickname. “That worked, guys!”

Everyone cheers, Eddie even throws in his own enthusiastic “hi” to the Lite Brite. Your face aches from how hard you smile. Turning the toy over to Nancy, you nod at her. “All yours, Wheeler.”

Her eyebrows knit together as she thinks for a moment. There’s so much to tell Dustin and the others, but the Lite Brite is small and too many words to keep track of. “What should I write?”

“‘Help’ would be a pretty good place to start.” You suggest to her. 

Instead, Nancy ends up spelling “stuck”. Which is pretty fitting, all things considered. Gets the message across well. 

“You can’t get back through Watergate?”

Steve questions whatever the hell watergate is and Robin has to explain the wordplay. While she does so, pride swells deep within your chest. “Dustin’s a little genius that I love so much.”

“It was pretty clever.” Eddie admits. 

Nancy tells Dustin that the gate you all came through is guarded. However, never missing a beat, Dustin tells you that he thinks they have a theory that can help. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate, that there’s one at every murder site.”

You jerk your head up, eyes widening. It all makes sense now. “Wait, I think he’s–”

“Does anyone have any idea what he’s talking about?” Nancy asks tiredly. Everyone gives her equally tired no’s, but you nod viciously.

“Yes! We already know there’s multiple gates, we just didn’t know how, but Dustin might’ve figured it out. It’s all connected to the murders.”

Nancy looks skeptical. “I don’t know…” Before you can argue with her, she sends a “?” back to Dustin. 

Who, predictably, doesn’t take it well. “Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?”

Steve grimaces. “Jesus Christ. This kid’s gotta get his ego checked out.” 

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie butts in.

You shove them both. “Shut up. Both of you. Dustin can be annoying and frustrating, but he’s right. He’s always been right. Now if you guys would actually listen, he’ll get us out of here.”

Looking pointedly at everyone, you start to explain. “There was a gate in Lover’s Lake, which we obviously found,” your arms wave behind you. “The same lake where Patrick died. Now, where else has a dead body been found?”

“Eddie’s trailer,” Nancy straightens, understanding where you’re going with this. Looking at Eddie, she asks him how far it is. 

“Seven miles.” 

Your head drops. “Why couldn’t you have lived closer?”

“I’m sorry I’m… poor?” Eddie looks at you incredulously. 

You flick a dismissive hand at him, but Robin cuts in between you two. “Nancy, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit–”

“It’s what?” Obviously you missed some important details. 

Robin holds her hand up. “I’ll explain later. Anyways, haven’t you always had bikes?”

You and Nancy share a look, both thinking the same thing: the bikes would be perfect. That, and they’re kinda your only option at the moment. 

– 

Since you’re in no condition to bike (your thigh has only just stopped bleeding) and there’s only four bikes anyways, Steve has you wrap your arms around his chest and stand on his pegs. He claims it’s so that you can avoid putting any weight on your leg, but you honestly think he just wants you to hold him. Pressing your body close to his, you look around at the houses you pass.

In a strange, twisted way, it’s exhilarating biking through an Upside Down Hawkins. Everything, and yet nothing, is the same. The houses you pass are frozen in time, empty, ghostly. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie bike alongside you and Steve. The scene is almost reminiscent of the night you biked Will home, wind in your hair and the night sky before you. 

Everything has changed since then.

Somewhere along the route to Eddie’s, you bike past the Creel house. Your arms tighten instinctively around Steve. A chill runs through you, the house is just as haunting in the Upside Down as it is back in your universe. Your head throbs being so close to it, as if warning you, but Steve is turning into Eddie’s neighborhood before you can think much else of it. 

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record.” Robin throws her bike down, breathless. “Most miles traveled interdimensionally.”

Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.”

“I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.”

“It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.”

“Again, I’m trying not to think about that.”

Eddie opens his trailer door and, just as Dustin predicted, there’s a gate. It’s just like the one in Lover’s lake had been: illuminating red light, vines all around its edges. An open wound. 

“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie stares up at the gate, which resides in the ceiling. He swallows heavily. “Like, right where she died.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand finds Eddie’s arm. You don’t know much about what their relationship had been, but he seems to have cared about the girl a lot. 

Eddie gives you a tight lipped smile, his eyes shining slightly. As he looks at you, Robin sees something moving in the gate. “I think there’s something in there.”

Something starts to protrude from it, causing the gate to swell rapidly. The vines almost seem to snarl at the intrusion. An ominous, unsteady croak emits from the gate. The sound sets your nerves on edge and Steve shoves you behind him protectively. Hand on your knives, you raise them, bracing. 

The gate explodes, spewing liquid and vines everywhere. You all scream, jumping back, as something rips through the membrane-like material. Unable to tell what’s just happened, you squint up at the ceiling.

Nothing jumps out at you, no bats come to feast on your flesh. Finding Steve’s eye, you silently ask him if you should walk closer. Nodding, he grabs your hand, and together you creep towards the remains of the gate.

When you look up, you find Dustin’s smug, joyous face staring back at you. Only he’s upside down with Max, Lucas, and Erica, all just as in shock as you are.

You’ve never been more relieved to see them in your life. Dropping your hands to your knees, you bend over and finally breathe. “Oh, thank God.”

“No way…” Steve waves at them, and they wave right back. “Hi.”

“Dustin!” If your leg wasn’t hanging by a thread, you’d be jumping up and down right now. Instead, you opt for waving like a madman at your brother. The entire situation is so fucking bizarre, but you don’t even care anymore. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Dustin giggles. “Bada bada boom!”

After some heated discussions and a few arguments, Dustin and the others come up with a way to get the five of you out of the Upside Down. Using Eddie’s bed sheets as a makeshift rope had been the easy part. What caused nearly a fist fight between Max and Dustin had been figuring out a soft landing pad for you guys. 

“I, uh. Have a mattress?” Eddie finally suggested when he noticed Max’s fist clenching. 

She glared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Well, I mean. It’s-uh. Minor details?”

But none of them had time to question Eddie’s sudden shyness regarding his mattress. Dustin got straight to work tying the bed sheets together while Max and Lucas worked on dragging the mattress out of Eddie’s room. 

However, the moment it landed on the ground, all eyes went to the giant stains on the bed. Cringing in disgust, you eye Eddie.

Seeing your disapproving look, he swallows. “Those stains are, uh…” He tries to come up with an excuse, but eventually he realizes it’s better to just accept defeat. “I don’t know what those stains are.”

“Would we want to know even if you knew?” You ask him, already knowing the answer.

“... Probably not.”

Dustin tosses the bed sheet rope up, or rather down, through the gate. “Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work, but here goes nothing.”

Miraculously, it lands perfectly in front of you. Dustin tugs at the rope before letting go of it completely. You gasp. The rope stands on its own, stiff but secure, and Dustin lets out a pleased laugh. “Abracadabra.”

“I’ve never understood physics.” You say, pulling at the rope. It doesn’t move. “But even I can admit that this is cool.”

Dustin high fives Erica and Robin steps up first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”

“Please be careful.” You tell her, already dreading your own ascent. Your shoulder still aches and you were never the best at climbing the rope for gym. You preferred soccer, track, anything that involved leg coordination. Not upper body. 

Robin slowly climbs up, and when her body hits the disgusting mattress back in your dimension, you let out a breath of relief. “That was kinda fun,” Robin giggles slightly.

Then Eddie stares at you, Steve, and Nancy. He waits for someone to move, obviously not wanting to be next. But when no one does, he shakes his head. “Alright, I guess I’ll go.”

Steve holds the rope steady and Eddie falls onto his mattress safely. He sits up, exhilarated. “That was fun.” He echoes Robin. 

Steve gestures for Nancy to go next. “I’ll help Y/N up after you’re done.”

She gives him an uncertain look, eyeing your injuries, and you try to smile at her reassuringly. “Go, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Knowing it’s as good of an answer she’ll get from you, Nancy takes a deep breath. “See you on the other side.”

You grab her waist and help hoist her up alongside Steve. She’s swift, her strength impresses you. She’s almost reached the top before you hear the first chime. 

It’s loud, deafening. The chime of a grandfather clock.

Another chime follows, then a third, a fourth. It wracks your skull with its force. 

You turn, gasping, expecting to find the grandfather clock that Max had seen in her vision. Only you’re met with darkness. You can’t see anything, you can’t find a way out. You can’t feel Steve next to you, your hands try to find his in the dark, but all they’re met with is air. 

“What–” Panic chokes you. None of this is right, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know what’s happening and you can’t feel Steve and–

The sensation of sunlight kissing your face stops you. 

Your eyes open. You’re no longer in Eddie’s trailer. 

You’re outside, there’s sunshine all around you. In front of you is a field of dandelions, their sweet yellow reflects the gold of the sun above. The grass beneath your feet is soft, lush and green. A bee flies past your head and someone calls your name.

You’ve been here before. In the distance resides a small house on a hill. The blue door and white frames of your childhood home welcomes you. You’re back in Virginia. Someone calls your name again.

The voice is familiar. 

It’s your father, calling you home. 

The realization knocks all the air out of your lungs. None of this is real. You know it isn’t real, but to hear your father’s voice, so sweet and saccharine again, it makes you weak. But it isn’t real. Your legs begin to move, you’re running before you can think of anything else. 

This is a vision. The scent of oak trees and strawberries isn’t real. The wheat that skims your thighs as you run doesn’t exist. “This is a vision,” you try to talk to yourself, your fingers dig into your pockets for your walkman. 

You know you’re supposed to always have it on you, that’s what Dustin told you, but there’s nothing there. Panic swells within your chest once more. “No, please–”

Distracted as you look for your walkman, you don’t see the body in front of you.

Colliding into your father, he steadies you. “Woah, there.”

His calloused hands are rough and familiar. He’s laughing, his voice is the same gruff voice that used to sing you to sleep. Your father looks down at you and your entire body freezes when your eyes meet his. 

You haven’t seen him ever since you were twelve. He looks the same as the day he left. His smile is the same, the crooked teeth charming. Your father’s nose still points up ever so slightly. The only indication that he’s aged are the wrinkles that line his face, years of sunlight etching them. 

But it’s his eyes that hurt you the most. They’re still kind. 

“What are ya runnin’ from, ladybug?” Your father asks you, his southern drawl liquid honey to your ears. 

Tears build within you hearing the childhood nickname. You were his ladybug for as long as you could remember. When he used to call, he’d whisper the name over the phone as an apology for everything he’d done to you. 

Because you can’t help it, because you’ll never be able to do this again, you hug your father. He lets out a soft chuckle at the impact, his arms hold you as they’ve always done. Your face buries itself into his rough t-shirt.

You’re a little girl who needs her daddy right now. 

“I.. I missed you, daddy.” Voice breaking, you begin to cry. 

Your father’s palm rests against your hand. He hums, soothing the ache in your bones. “You know you can never outrun it.”

The words unsettle you, there’s something about them that causes you to pull away. “Outrun what–?” “The guilt, ladybug. It will always find you.” Your father’s smile twists into a sickening grimace. The muscles in his face conjoin, his eyes darken as his voice becomes gravel. Deeper. Until it isn’t your father’s voice anymore, but someone else's. “I will always find you.”

Too late do you realize that it’s Vecna who now has you. You start to scream, thrashing in your father’s arms to escape, but he only grips you harder. He’s laughing, but it’s no longer your father’s laughter. 

Suddenly you’re thrown into the lake behind you. You fall, screaming, as you descend deep into a pitch black void. Your arms reach out, you try to find anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. It’s just endless emptiness. 

You land harshly on your back, all the air gone. You gasp, choke on whatever air remains in your body. The impact leaves you coughing, clawing at the ground beneath you to breathe. Soil scrapes under your nails, your palm gets cut on a root.

You’re in the woods. 

Scrambling to sit up, you realize you’re in the same part of the woods that Will went missing in. Fear cuts through your veins. Why would Vecna take you here?

“Will?” You’re on your feet now, cupping your hands over your mouth as you shout his name. Does Vecna have him? Have you lost him again? “Will!”

“He needed you that night.” Vecna’s voice taunts you, the sound like rocks grinding together. “Where were you?”

You’re running now. Branches cut your face as you break through them. You have to find Will. You can’t lose him again. You can’t do that to Jonathan, to Joyce and El and Dustin and Mike and everyone else. You’re the one who lost Will that night.

He had needed you. Isn’t that what Vecna said?

“Nancy!” Sobbing, you call for someone, anyone. But no one answers. Your vision blurs with tears, there’s someone running behind you. Chasing you. Terrified, you scream for the person you need the most. “Steve!”

Saying his name must trigger something, because suddenly the scene changes. You’re no longer in the woods. You’re on the ledge of someone’s roof, overlooking a window sill. A large, bay window that you’ve spent countless slow mornings residing on. 

Steve’s house. 

He’s standing in front of his bed, facing the window, facing you, but he doesn’t look at you. Not how he always does; his gaze lacks warmth. 

“Steve!” You pound on the glass, you try desperately to get him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. His eyes are on Nancy, who sits on the bed before him. He leans down, brushes her hair out of her face, before bridging the distance between them.

You watch as Steve kisses Nancy. He cups her chin the way he cups yours. Bile rises in your throat; you can’t turn away. Their kisses become heated, Steve is tugging at Nancy’s hair and her clothes. She tugs at him as well, he helps her remove his shirt.

Nancy’s lips trace the expanse of Steve’s neck and his eyes, once closed in bliss, now open. He looks right at you. 

“Did you really think I’d forget her, Y/N?” His voice digs into your ears. Nancy nips at his neck and he moans. He throws his head back, looks at you again. “I can’t. At least, not as easily as your dad forgot you.”

You stumble back, crying so hard you can barely breathe. Steve laughs seeing your heartbroken reaction. It’s cruel and awful. He’s cold. You’ve never known his voice to hold so much malice. Not towards you. Not towards anyone. 

He’s wrong. Steve doesn’t love Nancy, not anymore. Vecna is the one saying this, you know it isn’t Steve. He would never say any of this to you, he could never be so cruel to you. He loves you. You know he does. 

“N-no! This isn’t-this isn’t real–”

But the hatred in Steve’s eyes causes your foot to catch on the edge of the roof. You don’t have time to catch yourself; your body is weightless again, only this time it’s a much shorter fall. You land on concrete. Ripping your eyes open, there are domed walls around you. 

Nancy stands above you. 

Hyperventilating, you crawl away from her. You’re in Steve’s pool, only it’s empty, infested with vines, and your fingers stain the ground with blood. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run.

“Y/N–” Nancy tries to stop you, but you scream at her, kicking. She only barely avoids your fury. Holding her hands up, she lowers her voice, softens it. She’s crying, her terror the same as yours. “Y/N, it’s me, okay?”

Your body trembles with exhaustion. You close your eyes, tired of fighting. “Please be real.”

“I’m real.” Nancy swears to you, carefully reaching for you. When you allow her touch, she helps you stand up. 

The memory of her having sex with Steve is burned into your mind. You can’t look Nancy in the eye. She breathes heavily next to, looking around for a way out, when she sees something. A strangled cry leaves Nancy’s lips.

Barbara Holland’s corpse sits on the other side of the pool.

You cover your mouth with a gasp, choking slightly at the sight. Nancy cries out in pain, in grief, seeing her best friend’s body dismembered by vines. You stumble towards Nancy and hold her as she sobs. 

“Do you remember what you did, Nancy? Or have you already forgotten?” Vecna’s voice shakes the pool. “Don’t worry, I showed Y/N. When I kill someone… I never forget.”

A sob collapses in your chest. Barb’s death hadn’t been Nancy’s fault. Yet to place her in the same pool Barb was killed in, to show Nancy her corpse, is unrelenting cruelty. 

All around you, blood pours from the vents of the pool. It comes out quick, thick, at a dizzying speed. Nancy tugs at your hand and practically throws you up the ladder to escape. But when you reach the top, you’re met with a red hell.

It’s exactly how Max drew it.

Fragments of stairs, jagged pieces of wood, a grandfather clock, they all drift through the air painted with blood-red. Somewhere there’s screaming, the sound only drowned out by lightning. A clock ticks over and over again. Its metronome is maddening.

Nancy holds your hand and neither one of you lets go. Having nowhere else to go, you’re forced to walk down the stairs you arrived at. The clock chimes again and your heart stops.

“I see you’ve been looking for me, Nancy. And Y/N…” Vecna pauses, preying on you. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”

Everything stops.

“All the guilt, all the pain.” 

It comes to you in flashes. 

How Will used to smile at you, before his childhood was taken from him. Max’s blue eyes, shining with youth and happiness, before grief killed her. Billy, how he would be kind to your mother at the pool. Hopper, the way you’d bicker with him just to get him to smile.

It’s all gone because of you; you can’t remember how to breathe. 

Vecna feeds on your fear. “How fragile you’ve become… like a dandelion.” 

The wording, it’s too specific to not mean anything. Dandelions were once one of your favorite flowers. Before a nightmare from last summer changed everything. The dandelions had filled your mouth with razors and choked you. Someone called your name in the distance, they’d been too late to save you.

The dream had felt so real. You’d woken up with tears in your eyes.

And now you know it had been Vecna all along. Even back then. He’s been watching you for far longer than you realized. The realization chokes you, the fear overwhelms you. He’s been here all along.

Nancy yanks at your arm, you can barely hear her over the roaring in your head. “Y/N, listen to my voice.” 

She’s shaking you, trying to bring you back to her, but you’re lost. Hyperventilating, you struggle to catch your breath. You feel too vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. There are corpses strung up by vines in front of you. Fred’s broken jaw. Chrissy’s snapped neck. Patrick’s empty eye sockets. 

The same will happen to you. 

You’ve spent so long trying to be strong, trying to keep everyone safe. You’ve devoted your entire life to protecting others, helping them. But Vecna has been watching you for almost an entire year, maybe even longer, and you hadn’t noticed.

It’s why he’s targeted Max. He watched you take care of everyone you loved. Vecna watched you raise the girl. He knew it’d hurt you the most to lose her. It hadn’t been a coincidence. It’s all your fault. It’s always your fault. Will went missing because of you. Billy died because you hadn’t said anything. Max will die because you hadn’t seen the signs sooner. 

Nancy’s screams fall deaf on your ears. She shakes you, begs you to come back, but why should you?

This is all your fault. 

It’s always your fault. 

It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always–

You feel your body lift. 

Everything fades to black.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[daisymbin]

secrets at dawn - lee chan

warnings: none! fluff

pairings: lee chan x reader

genre: drunken confessions ~

wc: 1.1k

a/n: FUCK HYBE

drunken confessions series

check out my main masterlist! // chan's m.list

it was well past midnight when you finally managed to get chan back to your place. he’d had way more to drink than anyone had expected, and the whole way there, he’d been stumbling, muttering half-coherent nonsense and trying to convince you he could walk on his own; which, clearly, he could not.

“come on, chan, we’re almost there,” you coaxed, balancing him as you pushed open the door to your apartment.

he blinked at you, squinting like he was trying to make sense of your face in the dim light. “who… who are you? why have you been following me and holding my arm?” he slurred, eyebrows scrunching in suspicion as he leaned away like you were a stranger.

you held back a laugh. “it’s me, your best friend, the one who’s been trying to get you home for the past 30 minutes?”

“nuh-uh,” he said, pulling his arm out of your grasp and wobbling dramatically. “i… i don’t talk to strangers. especially strangers trying to drag me to… mysterious places.”

“mysterious?” you laughed, gesturing around at your very normal apartment. “chan, this is my place. you’ve been here a million times.”

he blinked, looking around with a dazed expression, as if he were seeing your apartment for the first time. “then why dont i remember it? this doesn’t look… familiar..i've definitely never been here..” he mumbled, still staring in exaggerated confusion.

you rolled your eyes, tugging him toward the couch. “come on, let’s sit you down before you pass out in the middle of the floor.”

but chan, despite the clear need for support, looked at your hand on his arm like it was lava, yanking himself away with as much grace as his inebriated state allowed. “no, no, i can’t… she wouldn’t like that.”

“she?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your heart sinking a little. a rush of jealousy washed over you at the thought of him liking someone else. “who’s ‘she’?”

he crossed his arms, puffing up his chest in exaggerated importance. “someone very important. way too important for… for… uh… whatever this is.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his antics, but the knot in your stomach tightened. “alright then, mystery man. who is this ‘very important’ person?”

he looked around suspiciously, leaning in as if he were about to tell you a great secret. “she’s… she’s perfect. the kind of perfect you… you don’t even believe is real.” he let out a dreamy sigh, sinking onto the couch like he was melting at the thought of her.

you held back a laugh, but the jealousy gnawed at you. “really? so what makes her so special?”

“she’s… she’s got this smile, right? and it’s… it’s like…” he trailed off, gesturing wildly as he tried to find the right words. “it’s like sunshine, but also like… i dunno, like fireworks? but soft fireworks, the kind that don’t explode too loud.”

“soft fireworks,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady. “sounds like someone pretty amazing.”

he nodded, entirely serious. “she’s amazing. way better than some random person trying to… take advantage of me when i’m defenseless.”

“oh, come on,” you said, forcing a lightness into your tone as you tried to mask your disappointment. “and, for the record, i’m not exactly a stranger, or am I trying to take advantage of you."

he squinted, his face scrunching up as he leaned closer, studying you with utmost suspicion. “you kinda look like her, you know?”

“is that so?” you asked, the jealousy bubbling up again. “well, maybe you should just tell her how you feel.”

his eyes widened, and he immediately looked horrified. “no way! she’d… she’d think i was ridiculous.” he shook his head vigorously, nearly toppling over from the movement.

“oh, i don’t know,” you teased, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. “sounds like maybe she’d find it sweet.”

“nope,” he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “she’s way too good for… for someone like me.”

your heart sank a little further. “well, maybe she wouldn’t think that if you actually told her,” you replied, your voice quieter now.

“you really think so?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “even… even with all my weird jokes?”

“yeah,” you said softly, though it felt hard to keep that positivity up. “i think so.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, his face so full of hope and something else; something warmer, more real. and then, just as quickly as it had softened, his expression turned defensive again, and he scooted away, crossing his arms.

“no! no, no, no. you’re trying to… to mess with me,” he said, clearly wrestling with his alcohol-induced haze. “she’s the only one for me, and you can’t change my mind!”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, trying so hard to mask your sinking heart.

he gave you one last defiant look before settling back against the couch, closing his eyes. “good. ‘cause one day… i’m gonna tell her. i’ll tell her… and maybe she’ll laugh at me, but… but that’s okay.”

“that sounds like a great plan, chan,” you murmured, leaning back beside him, your smile softening as you watched him drift off, still muttering about his “perfect girl” and his plan to “sweep her off her feet.”

just as his breathing evened out, he mumbled one last thing, barely audible. “she… kinda even smells like you…”

you blinked, your heart racing at his words. “wait, what? who does?”

he opened his eyes slightly, looking almost sheepish. “the girl… the one i like,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “she’s… she’s just… everything. i mean, you’re basically her. but, you know, way better.”

your heart swelled with confusion and joy, a mixture of emotions washing over you. “chan, are you… are you talking about me?”

“no! you're not her…my best friend…you're not my best friend.....y/n…I like her. I like her a lot. I think I love her..but she doesn't know yet. maybe tomorrow I'll tell her…yeah I will. I will tell her tomorrow.” he answered as his voice trails off as he drifts to sleep. you all but sat dumbfounded beside a lightly snoring chan, your hand still in his.

[iniquitousyearning]

tom riddle. | you don’t have to do this

summary: you and tom have endured seven years of ignoring your feelings for eachother for mattheo’s sake, and simply just can’t do it any more. it’s wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this type of trope.

word count: 1.2k

tags: nothing just a lot of angst and mentions of fighting (tom and mattheo), tom and reader kiss at the end. collective yet suppressed pining.

notes: this started out as headcanons and turned into something way longer (story of my life?). i need this as an entire proper fic, this is simply a concept for the time being.

————-

okay so like we all know about the cold, emotionally detached tom riddle—but what about the tom riddle who has been secretly harbouring feelings for you for years? the tom who has kept these feelings hidden because his brother, who has always been open about his affection for you, feels the same way.

what about tom riddle who has watched mattheo hit on you every single fucking day for 7 years and has found himself on the brink of bloody exploding because even though you reject mattheo every single time, the silent torment is unrelenting, and there’s always the gnawing chance that maybe one day you won’t turn him down.

what about tom riddle who forces himself to be distant from you, abruptly severing any tutoring sessions or any other individual interactions that might put you in close proximity to him because he needs to purge these feelings for you yet every goddamn moment near you makes it fucking impossible to do just that.

what about tom riddle who intervenes when you're all gathered in the common room on a friday night, drinking, to tell mattheo to lay off as he continues bugging you after you’ve told him to go away ten times over.

of course, you and mattheo always bicker and banter in a lighthearted manner. mattheo has been in your life for seven years. he’s your bestfriend. you love him, just not like that. never, like that. he just doesn’t know when to relent.

what about tom riddle who doesn’t dare meet your gaze as he succeeds in getting mattheo to leave you alone, fearing the admiration in your eyes would linger in his peripherals, infiltrating his mind and haunting him when he tries to sleep at night. he’d keep his sights glued to his brother, not breaking away until he’d lost him in the crowd, before he’d retreat himself, as well, without saying another word.

what about tom riddle who finds himself intervening more and more frequently, unable to endure it any longer? as though the flood gates were now wide open and he just simply couldn’t stop himself? as though he could sense the shift in admiration you had for him. as though he knew this is what you needed.

what about tom riddle, who knows his brother is harmless, yet simply can't refrain from getting increasingly more irritated with him every time he brings you up until one day it erupts into a full-blown fight in the middle of the common room as mattheo starts to grow suspicious about tom’s intentions, fueling the tension between them to its breaking point.

now, what about you, who watches this entire thing unfold, torn between feeling bad for mattheo and suffocating admiration for tom? you don’t know why tom has suddenly decided to intervene so often, but there’s a knot in the pit of your stomach every time you look at him, and the fact that he doesn't dare meet your eyes only intensifies it.

you’ve always harboured secret feelings for tom, but you could never act on them, knowing it would shatter mattheo’s heart. (more like his ego. we all know this boy would be sleeping around unfazed while still trying to pick you up. he’d just be pissed you chose tom over him.)

what about tom riddle who swallows the pit of guilt lodged in his throat, deep down feeling terrible for what he just did as he goes to brush past you to clean his knuckles up in the bathroom, tensing as tight as a coiled spring when you suddenly stop him with a gentle hand on his arm—a silent exchange of knowing admiration immediately passing between you.

little did you know, the second he met your eyes, the second you touched him, it was over for him. regardless of how cold and indifferent he was coming off. internally, he was in flame. clinging to the very last tattered strings of his resolve.

now what about you, who immediately senses the guilt in tom’s eyes and feels a sense of resonance? you, who is riddled with your own layers of guilt—for being the reason they fought, for not reciprocating mattheo’s advances, for desiring his brother instead, and for the very move you were about to make just now as tom’s eyes dipped over your lips, lingering there for far too long.

“let me help you clean up…it’s the least i can do…”

what about tom riddle who would nod silently, outwardly reluctant but internally eagerly willing, following you out of the common room and into your dorm— sheepishly tracing after you as you lead him to your bathroom, internally counting the number of tiles lining the floor or the seconds between each breath he took—anything to distract him from the intimate proximity he found himself in with you just now.

he had to keep it together. he shouldn’t be here.

and what about you, whose entire body is vibrating, hands trembling slightly but enough to be entirely noticeable as you patch up his knuckles—avoiding looking up at his face as he grimaces from the sting of the cleaning solution, your focus solely on the task at hand.

you, who nearly jumps out of your own skin as he speaks to you for the first time in what has felt like ages.

“you don’t have to do this, you know…”

“and you didn’t have to fight your brother…”

“fair point.” he’d chuckle. fuck, you’d missed that. “mattheo just wouldn’t leave it alone.”

“he hasn’t…for seven years.”

he’d hum a nod. “he’s obsessed. no one can blame him.”

you, who involuntarily looks up, unable to stop yourself now, your heart pounding like a wild animal desperate for release. the room suddenly feels stifling as he looks down at you, meeting your eyes, your mind swirling with thoughts of how badly you want to kiss him, how utterly wrong it would be to do so, and how much it would piss off mattheo. you’re fighting to decide if you even care.

“hm,” you should play it off, but you can’t. “care to elaborate?”

tom riddle who has to fight the urge to reach up and grasp the back of your neck and pull you into him, his fingers practically twitching with the desire to close the gap between you. tom riddle who is merely inches away from you, battling every instinct urging him to give in. he can see it in your eyes, the longing, the desire mirrored back at him. he can practically feel it in your touch.

“all the guys are obsessed with you.” so quiet you almost missed it, so gentle it almost tickled. “you’ve always had that effect. you’re fucking beautiful.”

his eyes are on your lips now and you’re trembling, stomach doing cartwheels. you go to break eye contact but his hand reaches out and cups your cheek, stalling you in place.

it’s wrong. this is wrong. “i…”

“hm?” he tilts his head.

“tom…”

his thumb ghosts over your cheekbone. his eyes don’t know where to land. “don’t act like you don’t have feelings for me…i see it…”

you shudder, scorching under the heat of a thousand suns. gods, you want this. youve fucking dreamed of it. but you can’t, you can’t do that to mattheo, it’s—

“it’s wrong…he’ll be furious…”

tom riddle who intently observes you as you tremble under his touch, your nerves palpable through your skin. tom riddle who finds it almost relieving, to see you like this— as though this is a confirmation of his hopes and suspicions, a validation of the effect he’s always hoped he’d have on you. tom riddle who agrees with you, who knows exactly how fucking wrong this is, but after seven years of suppressing it—doesn’t know how much he fucking cares anymore.

tom riddle who, in this moment, wants to do so many fucking things to you he doesn’t even know where to start.

his hand slides lower, his thumb grazing your jaw. “he’s tried, for so long, to get your attention…and he’s never gotten a damn thing from you…”

his hand shifts again, his thumb reaching for your bottom lip, tracing it and tugging on it gently. you’re in shambles, barely breathing, oxygen fleeing the vicinity and being replaced by suffocating desire, tom’s lips being the only reprieve in sight.

“but look at me…” he continues. “i do one thing, and you’re on fire.”

tom riddle and you, both on the verge of falling apart, unable to contain yourselves any longer. you don’t have to say another word as your eyes lock and you move in perfect synchrony, crashing your lips together with an urgency that speaks of years of pent-up desire.

it’s as if the world would end if you didn't, as if you were determined to make up for seven years of denial and restraint for mattheo’s sake and just indulge in each other for once. your kiss is filled with thirst, hunger, and unbridled passion, evident in the way your fingers dig into each other, as if to confirm that this is real, that it's not just some dream.

[random-writer-23]

Giving Logan head while wearing his helmet, gotta test out the blowjob handles somehow. What's this? Me actually posting something impossible! This is just a short lil thing for y'all, hope you enjoy it. Mostly edited, just something I slapped together before class this morning <3

TW: Smut! MDNI, oral (M receiving, allusions to f receiving), head pushing, established relationship.

Word count: 2k

I creep into Logan and my shared room making sure the coast was clear. He shouldn’t be home from work for another few hours, and thankfully I had the day off, I peek my head out of our room looking down the hall. 

“Wade?” I call out listening for any sounds, at the sweet sound of silence I speak up again. “Al?” I listen again smiling when I hear no noises, I knew they wouldn’t be home Wade took Al to bingo for the night. I smile to myself re-entering the room, making my way to the closet. I open it pulling out Logan's x-men suit humming softly to myself as I run my fingers over the bright yellow fabric. I put the suit back in the closet hanging it back up, I reach up to the top shelf in the closet standing on my tiptoes trying unsuccessfully to grab Logan's helmet. I huff running to the kitchen sliding my socks on the wood floor grabbing a step stool. I carry it back to the bedroom setting it up, silently cheering as I’m finally able to reach his helmet. I pull it down off the shelf stepping in front of the floor-length mirror, I put it on my head and smile at my reflection in the mirror. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine wearing Logan's helmet, he never lets me wear it when he’s here but I think it’s fun to put on. I stand in front of the mirror posing, giggling to myself. I strike a pose I’ve seen Logan do when watching the news about him and Wade's ‘heroic’ endeavours. Spreading my arms out to the side and letting out a goofy roar. Immediately exploding into a fit of giggles, halfway through my posing I stiffen up at the sound of a cough behind me. I look past my reflection in the mirror letting my eyes focus in on Logan leaning against the doorframe of our room behind me. I spin around, my face heating up as look at him sheepishly. “you’re home early,” I say softly, slowly taking the helmet off my head. “I am…” he grins, “what are you doing?” He pushes off the doorframe and takes a few steps towards me, taking his helmet from my hands. My mouth twists into a nervous frown, gnawing on my bottom lip.

“M’ sorry” I murmur looking up at him and he chuckles the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I just wanted to try it on, I couldn’t help myself” I explain quickly, my voice faltering as he looks at me with a raised brow of disbelief. His eyes flicker back down to the helmet in his hands and he tosses it playfully from palm to palm before looking back at my face. My breath hitches as he holds up his helmet examining it carefully for any dents or scratches I may have left. I rock from side to side, the nerves in my body growing hotter the longer Logan stays silent. He nods slowly his gaze shifting away from the helmet in his hand back down to my face. 

“Well if you want to wear it so bad...” He lets his sentence trail off raising the helmet and slipping it back onto my head. My breathing stutters as the solid frame of the helmet touches my head, my vision clouding over slightly as it covers the top half of my face. I try to contain the smile on my face only realizing I failed when I feel Logan's hand brush my cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin lovingly. Logan’s hands grip my shoulders, spinning my body to face the mirror again, making eye contact with my reflection I admire how the helmet looks on my head. He rests his hands on my shoulders his thumbs slowly digging into my back, massaging the muscles. I close my eyes letting my head fall back against his chest, the helmet on my head jostling slightly at the movement.  

“I have to admit, you wear it better than I do” I open my eyes again watching him in the mirror, a smile making its way onto his face as his hands continue to work at the muscles in my shoulders, before falling away. The rough pads of his fingers trail down my arms and I shiver slightly. His hands rest on my waist massaging the skin there for a minute before his touch fades completely. My ears prick up as I hear the jingling of his belt buckle as he undoes it, I turn to face him, reaching up to take off his helmet, but he grips my wrists bringing them down away from my head. I furrow my eyebrows a confused expression on my face. “Leave it on baby... you look hot” He chuckles, his head dipping down so he can leave hot kisses on my collarbone. His hands gingerly work their way up my body thumbs digging in between my shoulder blades massaging the sore muscles.

“I thought you don’t like it when I wear your gear” I grin leaning into his touch, watching him through the mirror.

“I don’t… but I’ll make an exception, just this once” He smiles, his hands halting their movements trailing back down my arms. “Y’know..” He says smugly, and I hear the soft clink of his belt hitting the floor. “Wade and Al are still at bingo” I watch his eyes flicker over to the clock on the bedside table. “We’ve got some time” He grins letting his head fall against my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me flush up against him. I laugh as he takes a deep breath, sighing against my neck. 

“Perv” I laugh, and he lifts his head off my shoulder with a loud groan. 

“I can’t help it if my girl is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on…” He smiles,  his arms tightening further around me, pressing his hardening cock against my ass. “C’mon pretty girl” He whispers lowering his voice to a husky Purr, his hands work at my shirt writhing underneath the hem to rest his palms possessively on my hips. They continue their path upwards bringing my shirt up with them and before I know it my shirt is tossed into some forgotten corner of the room. “Look at you… so beautiful” He murmurs nipping at my neck, large purple welts blooming wherever his lips touch.“Fuck… Logan” I groan softly turning around to face him, weaving my hands through his hair pulling him away from my neck, tugging him in for a kiss, his hands fall to the dip in my back squeezing the fat of my ass as he pulls me closer against him, his tongue swiping against my lip begging for entrance which I eagerly grant him moaning against his mouth. He pulls away reluctantly a hazy mist of need in his eyes. He fumbles with the button of his pants unzipping them and dropping them down to his ankles, kicking them aside. His boxers do nothing to hide the raging boner straining against the fabric. He pulls me in for another kiss hands kneading the fat of my thighs as he walks me backwards towards the bed, I pull away from his kiss, giggling softly as I shake my head stopping his movements. I lower myself down, sinking onto my knees in front of him, he groans his head rolling back, as I free his hard cock from his boxers stroking the length in my hand I watch as his eyes narrow in on my movements his pupils blown wide with lust.

“That’s it baby” He grunts, precum already beading at the tip of his cock, I swipe my thumb over the tip and his dick twitches in my hand. I smile up at him and he grips the wing tips of the helmet. “Don’t get cocky” He growls, using the wings of the helmet, to push his cock against my lips, he reaches down hand enveloping mine around the length, coating my lips in a thin layer of precum before pulling my head back. “Give it a taste baby” He demands and my tongue darts out to clean up the mess. “That’s a good girl” He grunts, “c’mon open up” he urges, rubbing his dick against my lips parting them with ease. He groans as the warmth of my mouth engulfs his throbbing cock. “Oh fuck” he grunts pushing his hips forward, his hands gripping onto the wings of his helmet like his life depends on it, keeping my head still as he gives a few tentative thrusts deeper into my mouth. I moan around his cock, spit building at the corners of my lips. He grunts quietly holding my head still as he pushes deeper into my mouth. I gag as he hits the back of my throat, my nose brushing against his happy trail. He pulls his hips back only to drive his cock back into my mouth. I press my hand against his stomach pushing back against him I gasp for breath drool dripping down my chin. “That’s it sweetheart, take a big breath” He chuckles patting the top of the helmet. I smile up at him lifting the helmet up slightly so I can stare at him without the interference of the helmet, he lifts it off my head rubbing my hair, and I smile taking his weighty cock back into my mouth. He groans putting the helmet back on my head gripping the wings tightly as I bring my hand up to fondle his balls. His head falls back as my other hand engulfs half the length of his cock stroking eagerly slurping along the length. He grips the wings of the helmet resuming the thrust of his hips nudging his cock deeper in my mouth. I gag as it hits the back of my throat again, and I feel his cock twitch on my tongue. He looks down at me lovingly, speeding up the thrusting of his hips. “That's a good girl, you can take it” he grunts out his grip on the wings keeping my head steady, “fuck, just like that, almost there baby” He groans his hips stuttering slightly. I hollow my cheeks, my hand stroking the length of his cock while the movement of his hips falters slightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” He pants above me trying his best to keep his pace, I bob my head along his cock coaxing him towards his climax, and his hips falter stopping completely as he chokes out a gasp. His cock twitches on my tongue and a wet warmth spreads along my tongue, as he shoots ropes of cum down my throat. He resumes his thrusts at a leisurely pace, he groans softly pulling his softening cock out of my mouth, smiling as he watches me swallow down his cum. He helps me off the floor, pulling me in for a passionate kiss moaning at the mix, he walks me backwards towards the bed. I fall backwards onto the plush bedsheets with a quiet gasp, crawling backwards till I’m. I beckon him forward and he grins, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside, making himself comfortable between my legs, his hand cupping the back of my head as he pulls me in for a passionate kiss, he lifts the helmet off my head smiling as my full face comes into view. “Let's take this off, I wanna see my girl's pretty face” He chuckles setting his helmet aside and nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck breathing deeply, nipping gently at the skin. “I love you so much baby” He whispers kissing down my body reverently. 

“I love you too” I grin running my hands through his hair, gasping at the contact of his lips on my skin. He trails his lips down my body kissing down the plush fat of my stomach down to my thighs. Taking extra care to pay equal attention to both of them, he takes a deep breath burying his nose into my clothed pussy. “She smells so good, all f’me” He whispers huskily placing more kisses along my thighs. He taps my thigh and I lift my hips so he can pull down my panties, he tosses them aside his pupils widening as he catches sight of my bare cunt. “Oh fuck baby” He groans, the warmth of his breath spreading across my pussy making me shiver. He looks up at me a sly smile on his face, “I think it's time for me to wear the helmet” He grins and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, and he reaches across my body to grab it, putting it on his own head. He grabs my wrists guiding my hands to the wings of the helmet, his head finding its place between my thighs. 

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 04:01 ⏤ALWAYS SAFE

SUM. : you bring james his lunch that you cooked yourself and almost get injured

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james ; girlfriend reader ; very angry james ; protective james ; team training ; drill accidents ; reader being caring and sweet ; reader is wifey material ; james is husband material

LENGTH : 0.8k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“James!” you shout across the rink, standing by one of your boyfriend’s coaches, Richard, who’s become like an uncle to you. The hockey captain doesn’t stop, however, unable to hear past the whistling wind by his ears atop his thick and sturdy headgear.

“Gonna have to shout louder than that, little lady ,” the older man chuckles, adjusting the cap on his head of silvering hair. 

You ponder to yourself for a moment before smirking, which makes Richard arch a curious brow at you, “Darling!” The instant you call across the ice rink, you see James’ head whip towards you before he grins widely behind the front guard of his head gear. Behind him, the rest of his team come to a skidding halt and also look over to your waving and cheering figure. You’ve become quite familiar with all of his teammates and they love to tease their captain for being so head over heels for you so the team begin snickering to themselves, some even cheekily whistling and nudging at James who pays them no mind, his sole focus fixed onto you.

“Baby!” he cheers, delight and excitement evident in his voice before he speeds his way over to you. Richard whistles for the rest of the team to run short drills while the ‘lovely couple’ have their lunch. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you gnaw at your bottom lip regretfully, a guilty look taking over your expression as James hurriedly takes off his headgear and gloves, revealing his sweat-soaked locks matted down and clinging onto his forehead, “Richard told me you didn’t eat anything-” because you wanted to wait for me…

“Don’t worry about it,” James says gently, his smile just as bright but much softer as he takes in your sweet expression. There’s so much love in his gaze, you feel your own heart bursting at the seams to attempt at reciprocating his adoration. James brings a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze to meet his kind stare; even though he appears sweaty, dishevelled and rugged from training, he’s just as handsome as ever, “you sounded really excited over the phone about cooking my lunch for me,” a heat crawls up your neck and explodes across your cheeks as James grins, his eyes staring lovingly at you, “and I was just as excited to eat what you so graciously cooked instead of the canteen food here,” James giggles to himself, dopey and carefree, “you cooked it just for me~ I’m so lucky~” 

You returned his wide grin and felt yourself losing your will to hide his surprise. He didn’t know it but you were only late because you went and bought his favourite treacle tart from his favourite bakery across town.  

“Actually~” you begin to reach down so that you can present the bakery take out box when you suddenly see James pull back, his spine fully erect as his eyes and ears become fully alert. The words were on your tongue, ready to question his odd behaviour when he suddenly shoots his arm up to the side; just as you were beginning to register a faint whistle in your ear, it was followed by a resounding WHHHIIIIP!

In James’s stretched out hand was a hockey puck. And it was on a one way course of high velocity towards you. Seeing this, anger flares up like the fuse of an explosive ready to violently detonate in James’s eyes.

“SHE’S! MY! FUCKING! GIRLFRIEND! WATCH IT! YOU FAT FUCK!” James’s booming voice cuts through the air and silences all activity on the rink, not only that but he was easily able to narrow down the perpetrator of the hazardous stray puck, “...WELL?!! SAY SOMETHING YOU DICK!” you look past James’s figure and lock eyes with guilty brown pools, likely the offender of your potential accident.

“S-sorry,” you hear his teammate stutter, which you accept with a small nod and place a gentle hand on James’s arm, attempting to calm him down and bring his attention back to you. As he slowly turns to you again, James slams the puck to the ground and kicks it away with his ice skate. 

“Are you okay, angel?” James asks, his voice soft and kind, a complete contrast to the booming, angry shout he just projected. 

“I’m perfectly fine,” your warm voice visibly soothes the hockey team captain and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, “...accidents happen James, please don’t lash out on the poor g-”

“Accident or not, hurting you— almost hurting you is deserving of a beat down from hell,”

Looking into his hostile but worried hazel eyes, you silently express your objection alongside some appreciation too. You’re thankful for his worry, his aggression over your safety even makes your heart flutter but he’s better than any violence. It takes a moment but James finally sighs and nods, a silent promise to watch himself and stay civil. 

Smiling softly, you lean up to kiss his lips, “thank you for saving me,” his lips smile against yours. 

“You’re always safe with me, princess,”

NAVI.

A/N : im a bit rusty on writing since i haven’t been able to write for a while from stressful home stuff but here’s me trying to get back into it with another ice hockey james au (inspired by another tiktok). hopefully, this will get me in the headspace to write good requests from my milestone event.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @chullu-bhar-paani @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[baekhyunsbestie]

baekhyun x jealous gf!reader ―୨୧⋆ ˚ for anonie <3 ty for the idea babie! 18+/MDNI | wc: 1.9k+

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ YOU STOOD ACROSS THE ROOM, your gaze fixed on baekhyun as he laughed with an old friend, that familiar pang of jealousy bubbling up in your chest. the two of you were hosting an end-of-summer party at your place, and while you should be enjoying yourself, your attention kept drifting back to them. she was stunning—gorgeous, even—her bright smile practically glowing as her hand lingered on his arm a little longer than it should have. and though you knew baekhyun would never betray your trust, the sting of insecurity still crept in, gnawing at the edges of your confidence.

the way he leaned in close when she spoke, the shared laughter over some distant memory, it sent a cold wave of doubt spiraling through your thoughts. each stolen glance between them felt like a pinprick to your heart, small but sharp, and before you knew it, your emotions betrayed you—lips pouting, chest tightening. 

you could feel it burning through you, jealousy igniting like a wildfire. you had to leave the room before it consumed you completely, before anyone noticed your change in mood. 

as you turned to escape, baekhyun finally caught sight of you. his laughter faltered, his smile slipping as he registered the change in your expression. his eyes softened with concern, and after a quick apology to his friend, he followed you, his steps quiet but deliberate, trailing after you to your shared bedroom.

“hey, baby, what’s going on?” baekhyun’s voice is soft, laced with concern, as his warm hands cradle your face. his thumbs glide over your cheeks in slow, soothing strokes, and despite the heat creeping up your neck, that stubborn knot of jealousy refuses to untangle, no matter how ridiculous it feels.

“nothing,” you mutter, but the pout tugging at your lips betrays you.

“nothing?” he echoes with a teasing lift of his brow, his mouth curving into a knowing smirk. “you sure about that? you look like you’re about to explode.”

you huff and pull your face from his hands, turning away. “you were flirting with her.”

baekhyun blinks, staring at you like you’ve just grown a second head, then breaks into a quiet laugh, the sound warm and disarming. he pulls you closer, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “flirting? with her? baby, you’re the only one i could ever think about like that.”

it's true. you know it is. baekhyun couldn’t care less about anyone else but you. if you were to crack open his head and take a peek inside, it would be a total shrine dedicated to you. it’s all about you—your laughter, your sparkling eyes, your hands as they flit around when you talk, your quirky hobbies. just you, you, you. and while he thought your jealousy was insanely adorable, he would never want you to feel insecure, not for a second.

you bite down on your lip, trying—and failing—to suppress the flutter his words stir in your chest. “she’s really pretty,” you murmur, jealousy still clinging to your voice.

baekhyun lets out a soft sigh, shaking his head before gently lifting your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. his eyes burn with intensity, radiating nothing but pure, unwavering devotion. "and?" his voice is calm but firm, laced with sincerity. "i wasn’t flirting. do you really think i’d notice anyone else when you’re the only thing on my mind? you, baby—every second of the day. no one even comes close."

guilt swirls inside you as his words sink in, making your heart ache at how genuine he’s being. still, there’s that small, nagging part of you clinging to the jealousy, even as his lips brush tenderly against yours in a soft, reassuring kiss.

“i know,” you whisper, voice tinged with vulnerability, though your pout lingers. “but it just… it felt like you were…” you trailed off, unable to finish your thought, the weight of your insecurities hanging heavy in the air between you.

baekhyun grins, pulling back just enough to look at you. “you’re so cute when you’re jealous, you know that? but you’ve got nothing to worry about. no one—” he kisses your jaw, trailing his lips down your neck, “—no one—” he presses a kiss to your collarbone, “—could ever make me feel the way you do.”

your breath hitches as his hands slide down your waist, pulling you flush against him. “baek—”

his lips move to your ear, his voice dropping into that low, husky tone that makes your knees weak. “i think i need to remind you who you belong to.”

before you can even process his words, baekhyun’s lips crash into yours, all soft and slow at first, but quickly turning needy. his hands grip your waist tightly, guiding you back toward the bedroom, and you can already feel the heat pooling between your legs.

"you're mine," he murmurs against your lips as he kicks the door shut behind him. his hands tug at the hem of your shirt, and you let him pull it over your head, exposing your bare skin to his hungry eyes. "all mine, every single part of you." 

you moan softly as he pushes you down onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours. his hands move quickly, almost frantically, as he unbuttons your jeans and slides them down your legs, tossing them to the side. his mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and down your chest, worshiping every inch of you as he goes. 

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he groans, his voice laced with desire. “how could you ever think i’d want anyone else when i have you?”

you whimper as he presses his body against yours, his hard length pressing insistently into your thigh. the warmth of his skin against yours sends shivers down your spine, and you arch your back, silently begging for more.

“baek, please…” you pant, your fingers threading through his hair as he kisses down your stomach, making you tremble with anticipation. 

"please what?" he teases, looking up at you with a smirk. "tell me what you want, princess. i wanna hear you say it."

your face heats up, but you can't deny how badly you need him. "i-i need you... please, baek, i need you inside me."

baekhyun chuckles low, his voice dipping into something more dangerous as his eyes grow darker with desire. "oh, baby, i'm gonna take care of you. gonna fuck you so good, you won't even remember what you were jealous of."

his words send a jolt of arousal through you, and you spread your legs wider as he positions himself between them, his hands gripping your thighs. he teases your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your slick folds, making you gasp in frustration.

“you’re so wet already,” he whispers, his voice dripping with praise. “all for me. ya want me that bad, huh?”

you nod, eyes wide with desperation. “please, baekhyun—”

“say it,” he demands, his voice low and commanding. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. “all yours, baekhyun. please—”

with a groan, he finally pushes inside you, filling you completely. the stretch has you gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders as he slowly pulls back, only to thrust in again, harder this time. 

"fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his breath hitching as he struggles to stay composed. his lips crash into yours in a desperate, heated kiss. "you're so fucking perfect for me," he murmurs against your mouth, voice thick with raw desire.

your jealousy fades with every thrust, replaced by pure, dizzying pleasure. baekhyun’s cock hits every sensitive spot inside you, driving you closer and closer to the edge with each movement. his pace is relentless, his hips snapping against yours with such force that your brain starts to go fuzzy.

“you thought i was flirting?” he breathes into your ear, his voice dripping with amusement. “you really think i’d give this up? this tight, perfect pussy that’s made for me?” 

your head lolls back, overwhelmed by the sensations. “n-no, i—ohmygod—fuck, baekhyun—fffuuck���slow down!” you gasp, voice trembling, but the words barely register.

“uh-uh. can’t—don’t want to,” he groans, voice breaking between ragged breaths. “fuck—nnngghh—feels too good,” he pants, his words barely audible as his hips snap against you with relentless force, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body. the slick heat between you pulls him in deeper with every stroke, and you can feel the raw desperation in the way he moves—like he’s trying to mold himself to you. his grip tightens on your waist, fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place as he fucks you with a need that makes your head spin.

each plunge hits your core, his cock pounding into your deepest spots with a lewd rhythm that has your mind going blank, your body reduced to a trembling mess under him. your eyes flutter shut, rolling back, no other choice but to take it.

"ya feel that, baby?" he rasps, voice strained between labored breaths. "feel how fucking hard i am? ya know s'all for you, right? no one else—no one could ever make me feel like this," he babbles, burying his face against your chest, his breath hot against your skin. he’s as lost as you are, reduced to nothing more than a mess of lust and need, driven by the primal urge to stay buried inside you. you can feel him throbbing, his cock twitching inside you, so hard, so desperate, and it’s driving you to the edge.

tears prick your eyes from the overstimulation, your hands clawing at his shoulders as you cry out, “baek, p-please! m’gonna—ohmygod—cum if you keep—fuck!” your words dissolve into desperate moans as your cunt tightens around his cock, clamping down hard, your arousal leaking over him, coating his veiny shaft and dripping onto his swollen balls. he’s too busy suckling at your breasts to speak, his lips warm and wet against your skin, but the way his eyes roll back at the sound of your broken voice tells you everything.

“y-yeah? gonna cum for me, princess?” his voice is desperate, strained, as he pushes you closer to the edge. “cum on my cock, please—i love feeling my pretty baby cream all over me.” he sounds almost delirious, his words slurred with lust.

that’s all it takes. your body shudders as you scream his name, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. baekhyun groans, his hips stuttering as he chases his own release, spilling inside you with a loud, desperate moan.

“fuck, m’cumming—take it, baby, take all of it. it’s all yours,” he cries, voice wrecked, his hips jerking as his cock throbs inside you, filling you with his release. his fingers dig crescent shapes into your waist as his balls empty deep in your cunt, and you can feel every pulse, every thick spurt of his cum filling you up until you’re sure it’s leaking out around his cock.

“god… your pussy feels like heaven,” he groans, his hips coming to a halt as he stays buried deep inside you. the air is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, both of you panting, completely undone. the room falls silent, save for the rhythmic sounds of your breaths mingling in the aftermath.

“still jealous?” he asks, voice rough and tinged with amusement as he collapses onto you, his chest pressing flush against yours. his fingertips glide over your flushed skin, tracing slow, lazy circles, each touch light and filled with quiet affection.

you blush, shaking your head as you fight to catch your breath. “no… not anymore.”

“good,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, possessive kiss. “because i’m yours. always.”

maybe getting jealous more often wouldn’t be so bad.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[ddejavvu]

Hi! How are you my love? Happy mondayy! Could I request roommate!James Potter where he is usually touchy with the reader and open about his love for her but she always runs in fear of it ruining their friendship? But one evening reader is very soft and touch starved and in need of some love so she goes to him and James is shocked but also melts.

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

hi lovey happy monday to you too!! <3

--

Your heart shouldn't be pounding in your chest while you walk up to James's open door. He leaves it that way so that you can come and go as you please; he's literally offering you constant access to him. But your nerves are getting the best of you as you shuffle into the doorway, calling his name in a soft, meek voice when he doesn't notice you behind the screen of his phone.

His big brown eyes are wide with curiosity as he glances questioningly at you, "Hm? What's'a matter, love?"

"Can I please have a hug?"

There they were. The six words you'd repeated over and over and over again in your head, trying to drum up the courage to actually say them to James's face. The boy lends affection like band-aids, always eager to patch someone's bad day up with what's in plentiful reserve. but for some reason asking for it now is daunting, especially after the exhausting week you've had.

He blinks in rapid succession at your unusual offer, but he nods where he's laying atop his covers.

"'Course you can have a hug, darling." He drops his phone to his chest, arms outstretched, "C'mere, come get cozy with me."

You're extra mortified about being asked to crawl into bed with the man. He's not going to creep on you, you know that for sure, but it's scary to climb into someone's bed.

"James, I-" You don't want to inconvenience him by asking him to stand, either. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, troubled eyes laid over him where he's waiting for your embrace.

"Come on," He soothes, opening and closing his hands in rapid succession to lure you in, "Come here, come get a hug."

You take the four steps necessary to stand by his bed, letting him do the rest of the work by taking your hand and pulling you onto the mattress. His arms are around you before you've even gotten adjusted, and you find your face tantalizingly close to his own when you finally settle onto the pillow.

He cages you into his chest, and even though it's exactly what you'd asked for, it's electrifying.

"What's wrong, darling?" He asks, his hand flitting up to trace your jaw with his thumb as he holds it in place so that you can't avoid his eyes.

"I've had a bad week." You lament, "Just- a tiring one, that's all. I'm tired and I don't want to go to work tomorrow."

His pretty brown eyes ooze with sweetness, same as his voice when he croons, "M'sorry, love. I wish you didn't have to go in either. Can you call out sick?"

"They need me to open," You shake your head, relishing the feeling of his arms wound snugly around you while you lay in his embrace, "I just have to get through it."

"Sorry," He repeats, mushing a kiss to your forehead that you think might make you explode into a cloud of ashes on the spot, "Opening shifts suck. Do you open for the rest of the week?"

"No, just tomorrow. I'm off day after next."

"That's good." He hums, and his discerning eyes study you, "You know you don't have to ask for a hug, right? M'always happy to give you one. Jus' go for it, okay?"

"I can't just crawl into your bed whenever I please," You groan, wishing more than ever that you could bury your face into his chest to evade his intense gaze.

"Of course you can," He laughs, and his chest shakes with the sound, jostling you slightly, "That's why I got a big enough mattress for the both of us, sweetheart. Always hoped you'd come for a cuddle."

"James," You warn, cheeks ablaze where he can surely feel the heat against his fingers, "You can't say things like that to me."

"Oh, hush," He scoffs, and this time his plump lips press to the space between your eyes, pushed over the bridge of your nose in an awkward spot. "Just snuggle in, love. You can sleep here tonight, m'kay? I'll set my alarms for you, and rub your back 'till you fall asleep. That way you'll be rested for tomorrow, and then we can spend the day after back in here."

"I'm not spending an entire day in your bed," You lie through your teeth, your tone pointlessly strict.

James knows you're lying, and he hides his grin by letting you mash your face against his chest, already beginning to lay gentle strokes over your back with the tips of his fingers, "Okay, darling. Whatever you say."

[maskedbyghost]

Shadows of Obsession (part 10)

part 1 tw: kidnapping, violence, injuries, emotional distress

Simon's breathing was steady, but his heart was a raging storm in his chest as his boots slammed against the pavement. Hours, long, painful hours, had passed since she had disappeared, and each moment was like a knife cutting through his calm.

He had retraced every step, scoured the café, interrogated the staff. Nothing. It was as if she had been swallowed by the city.

How could I have let this happen?

The words repeated in his mind like a relentless mantra, each repetition hammering his guilt deeper. He should have been faster. Sharper. He never should have let her out of his sight.

His comm crackled to life, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Ghost,” Price’s voice came through. “Where are you?”

“Still looking,” Simon growled, his voice tight. He’d called Price as soon as he realized she was gone. The team had mobilized immediately, spreading out across the city to search for any sign of her.

“You’re no good to her if you’re running blind,” Price said firmly. “Get back here. We’ve got something.”

Simon froze mid-step. “What is it?”

“Intel. Soap and Gaz heard about a woman taken near your location. They’re holding her in an old industrial complex on the edge of town. We’re moving in now.”

The air left Simon’s lungs in a sharp exhale, equal parts relief and dread crashing over him. “I’m on my way.”

The industrial complex loomed in the distance, its structure casting eerie shadows against the dim light of dawn. The team regrouped just outside the perimeter, their faces grim.

“She’s here,” Soap said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Surveillance confirms movement inside. Multiple hostiles.”

“Then we go in,” Simon snapped, already moving toward the entrance.

Price grabbed his arm, halting him. “We go in smart, Ghost. If you charge in blind, you’ll get her and yourself killed.”

Simon’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides, but he forced himself to nod. Price was right. As much as the burning urgency in his chest demanded he act now, he couldn’t afford to let emotion cloud his judgment.

“Gaz, Soap, take the east entrance,” Price ordered. “Ghost and I will go west. Quiet and clean.”

The team moved, slipping into the shadows and picking off guards with precision. Simon’s grip on his weapon was tight, his movements efficient and ruthless. Every takedown brought him closer to her, but the fear gnawing at his gut only grew.

Finally, they reached a locked door deep within the complex. Price signaled for silence as Simon knelt, pressing his ear to the cold metal. Faint sounds filtered through—voices, laughter, the unmistakable ring of sadistic amusement.

Simon’s blood boiled. They’re enjoying this.

Price placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder, a silent reminder to stay calm, before motioning for Soap to breach. The door exploded inward with a deafening crack, and chaos erupted.

Simon moved like a force of nature, his focus sharp as he cut down the men in his path. His mind registered every detail—the shouts, the gunfire, the bodies dropping—but his sole objective was finding her.

When he finally did, his heart nearly stopped.

She was slumped in a chair in the center of the room, her head lolled forward and her body limp. Blood stained her clothes, her skin marred with bruises and cuts.

Simon was at her side in an instant, dropping his weapon to kneel before her. “Hey,” he said urgently, his gloved hands trembling as he cupped her face. “It’s me. I’m here.”

Her eyelids fluttered weakly, her gaze unfocused. “S-Simon...” she rasped, her voice barely audible.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

Behind him, the team secured the room, neutralizing the remaining hostiles and radioing for medevac. But Simon barely registered their movements, his entire world narrowing to the fragile figure before him.

-

Hours later, Simon sat in the hospital’s sterile waiting room, his head in his hands. The doctors had rushed her into surgery the moment they arrived. She was alive, but only just.

He replayed every moment in his mind, every decision he had made, every sign he had missed. This was his fault. He had let her out of his sight, let her be taken.

“Ghost,” Price’s voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see the captain standing before him.

“She’s stable,” Price said after a moment. “The doctors say she’ll pull through.”

Relief hit Simon like a tidal wave, but it was short-lived. The weight of his failure still pressed down on him, heavy and unforgiving.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” Simon said quietly, his voice raw. “I should’ve protected her.”

Price sighed, taking a seat beside him. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“The hell I can’t,” Simon snapped, his eyes flashing. “She trusted me, and I let her down.”

“You did everything you could,” Price said firmly. “And because of you, she’s alive.”

Simon didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. Price didn’t push him, knowing the younger man would carry this weight whether it was deserved or not.

All Simon could think about was the promise he had made to her in that dark room, the desperation in her eyes as she clung to him. He had gotten her back, but the cost was etched into her skin and burned into his soul.

-

The first thing she felt was pain—a dull, thudding ache that pulsed through her entire body. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and when she tried to shift, it sent waves of discomfort radiating through her battered frame. Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings: the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the faint antiseptic scent of a hospital room, the warmth of soft blankets.

Her breath hitched. Fragments of memory assaulted her—darkness, rough hands, cruel laughter. Then the explosion, the shouts, Simon's voice.

Simon.

Her heart clenched. Even in the fog of pain and confusion, his image surfaced—his desperate eyes, the tremor in his voice when he promised she was safe. She turned her head slightly, her eyelids fluttering open. The room was dimly lit, and for a moment, the overwhelming stillness made her doubt any of it had been real.

But then she saw him. Simon sat in the far corner of the room, his massive frame hunched over, head bowed with his hands clasped together. Even in the muted light, the tension in his posture was clear, his every muscle coiled tightly as if prepared for a blow.

She wanted to say his name, to tell him she was awake, but her throat was dry and raw, her voice barely a whisper. Her attempt to speak must have caught his attention because his head snapped up. The look in his eyes nearly broke her.

"You're awake," Simon murmured, his voice rougher than usual. He shot out of the chair, hesitating only a second before moving to her side. His gloved hand hovered near her arm. "You... you’re okay."

She gave a weak nod, her lips cracking into a faint, tired smile. The relief that flooded his face was enough to ease some of the weight in her chest.

"Don’t try to speak," he said quickly, pulling a glass of water from the nearby table and carefully helping her take a sip. "The doctors said your throat’s still raw."

She obeyed, her eyes locked on his. There was something in his expression—guilt so profound that it made her heart ache more than her bruised body. Before she could find the strength to speak, the sound of a door opening drew both their attention.

“She’s awake,” Price’s deep voice cut through the quiet.

Simon immediately stiffened, pulling back. The momentary softness on his face hardened into the cold, detached mask she knew was his shield. Price entered, his expression lighter than Simon's.

“How are you feeling?” Price asked, taking the chair Simon had vacated.

She swallowed and managed a hoarse, “Better.”

Price nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s good to hear. You gave us quite the scare.”

Her gaze flicked to Simon, who stood silently near the wall, a dark shadow lingering just out of reach. His eyes didn’t meet hers, as if the mere act would shatter him.

“Disappearing with Simon was the right call,” Price continued. “I know you didn’t have all the details about the danger back then. But going dark bought us critical time. Time to mount a response, to keep them off your trail. It was the smartest move you could have made. I'm sorry we couldn't catch them before everything happened.”

Her chest tightened, and she glanced down at the hospital blanket. Price’s assumption burned in her mind. He didn’t know the truth—that Simon had taken her without her consent, about his obsession that was fueled by his overprotective desperation.

Yet even now, as the memories resurfaced, she felt no anger toward him. Simon had acted out of misplaced love and fear. She couldn’t bring herself to condemn him, not when she could see the torment eating away at him.

“It was… my idea,” she lied, her voice raspy and fragile but resolute. She couldn’t risk Simon losing everything. Not after what they’d been through. “I wanted to… stay safe. Thought it was best.”

Price’s brows furrowed briefly, then relaxed. “Smart thinking. Simon said you were worried the threat might escalate.”

She nodded weakly, her throat tightening for a different reason now. It hurt to deceive Price, but it wasn’t his trust she was trying to protect. It was Simon’s.

Price’s gaze softened further. “You rest now. Let us handle the rest of it, yeah?”

She forced a small smile and agreed. Price rose, patting Simon’s shoulder as he left the room. Simon didn’t react, his entire being focused on the floor.

When the door clicked shut, she reached for him. Her fingers barely brushed his sleeve, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He turned to her, his expression filled with pain.

“Why did you do that?” Simon’s voice was a low rasp, his blue eyes searching hers. “Why lie for me?”

She inhaled shakily, wincing as the movement pulled at sore muscles. “Because I understand, Simon. You were trying to protect me. And…” her voice faltered, her gaze meeting his. “Because I care about you.”

Her words should have brought him comfort, but instead, they deepened the ache inside him. He looked away, as though ashamed to meet her gaze.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered, the words trembling on his lips. “Not after what I’ve done to you.”

Her hand found his again, her grip weak but firm. “You did everything you could,” she said softly. “You brought me back. That’s what matters.”

But Simon shook his head. “It’s not enough,” he said hoarsely, pulling his hand away despite the pain in his eyes. “I’ve only brought you more danger. You’re safer without me.”

“No,” she started, her voice straining, but he interrupted, his tone firmer this time.

“This isn’t a choice,” he said, his words steady though his heart was breaking. “You deserve better. A life where you’re free. Without someone like me in it. I don't know why I thought I had a right to someone like you.”

She felt the tears sting her eyes, a lump forming in her throat. “Simon—”

“I can’t stay,” he said, his voice quieter now. His eyes met hers for the briefest second. “I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done to you. But this… letting you go… it’s the only thing I can do to make things right.”

Her hand reached for him again, but he stepped back, out of her reach. Without another word, he turned and walked to the door. His movements were slow, as though every step cost him more than he could bear. At the door, he hesitated, his hand resting on the frame.

“Stay safe,” he murmured, the words barely audible, before he disappeared through the doorway.

The door clicked shut, leaving her alone in the room. She stared at the empty space he left behind, her chest tight with ache. Somewhere along the way, between the fear and the desperation, she had started to fall for the broken man who had risked everything for her. And now he was gone.

A single tear slid down her cheek as the heart monitor beeping filled the silence. She didn’t try to stop it. The man who had taken her, who had fought for her, and who had let her go—he had broken something inside her that she wasn’t sure could ever be mended.

PART 11

------------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate @lem-hhn @bimboghostface @kylies-love-letter @ghost-haunts-me @lostmypopsicle @tired-writers-world

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Howlin' for You

[A/N: Highly recommend listening to “Not Afraid Anymore” from Fifty Shades Darker while reading what’s under the cut 😘 Enjoy, my fellow Hotch sluts 😈🖤]

“Oracle of Quantico,” Penelope’s voices rings out clearly through the car, “speak and be heard.”

“Hey, baby girl,” Derek croons from his spot next to you in the driver’s seat, and you chime in, “Hi, Pen! Can you do some digging for me?”

“Can I- Y/N Y/L/N,” she admonishes playfully, and you share a knowing smile with Derek. “How long have you been with this team now? You know I’m a digital shovel. Give me a name, date, or a hint of nefarious activity, and I shall reveal all, my love.”

“It’s, uh, the local sheriff,” you confess through a grimace. “Wilson. Who invited us in. I think he’s involved with the sole witness we can’t seem to find. So don’t send anything to their office, just call us or Hotch, okay?”

“Oh, you smart little cookie, you’ve got it. PG out.”

Derek shakes his head before flicking on the turn signal and pulling over at the newest crime scene. “You’re sure about the picture you saw, Y/L/N?”

“No doubt,” you assure him. “I just need Garcia to find me proof that he can’t deny.”

“If it’s there to be found, she’ll find it,” he answers, turning the Suburban off and pausing with his fingers tucked into the car door handle. “But these small town cops are just gonna hate us even more once we prove your theory right.”

“Oh no,” you deadpan, “however will we go on without their respect and admiration?” You hop out of the SUV, not missing the way Derek rolls his eyes before following you across the lawn to grab a pair of gloves from the forensics team and head inside the latest victim’s house.

Several minutes later, you’re examining the contents of the shelves in the living room when your phone rings, and Penelope animatedly confirms what you suspected earlier today. You enter the bedroom where Hotch is analyzing the scene with a critical eye and gently grasp his elbow to guide him away from the primary crime scene- and earshot of Sheriff Wilson.

“What is it?” he murmurs softly, resisting the urge to pluck your bottom lip out from where your teeth are nervously gnawing on it, keenly aware of the local law enforcement’s prying eyes. When you don’t respond immediately, he prompts, “Y/N?”

“Pen and I found something,” you answer. “And you’re not gonna like it.”

You share the information with Aaron in hushed tones, and his brow grows more furrowed the longer you talk. When you finish with a deep breath, he turns on his heel to chew out the officer, but looks back at you before walking away. Taking a quick peek around to make sure you’re alone, he pecks your lips and commends your intuition with a soft smile.

If you had a tail, it would be wagging right about now.

“I don’t have to listen to this!” Sheriff Wilson explodes out of the bedroom, Hotch hot on his heels as they head toward the front yard. You follow after, fingers twitching at your side and ready to draw your gun when you see other officers taking an interest in their heated conversation, fiery eyes set on your boss- but more importantly in this moment, the man you love.

“Everybody just take it easy,” you counsel, grateful when you feel Derek’s solid form now pressing against your arm. Hotch meets the sheriff’s ire with an eerie calm, speaking too low for you to hear. An eerie calm, that is, until Wilson says something clearly so egregious that Aaron barks, “Get off my crime scene, Sheriff, before I have you charged with obstruction of justice.”

The entire neighborhood seems to fall silent; the birds cease chirping, the wind stops rustling through the trees, the local officers slink away from the altercation, and the sheriff opens his mouth to respond, but no words form on his stunned lips. He stalks off to his police cruiser in a huff, and Aaron turns back to instruct Derek to follow him and find out where the witness is.

You, on the other hand, are frozen in place, in awe of the raw power and authority emanating from your imposing man. Your erratic heartbeat thrums between your legs, and if you had even a shred less of self-respect, you would fall to your knees right now to worship Aaron like he deserves.

Instead, you swallow down the saliva pooling in your mouth at the phantom taste of him on your tongue and follow him back into the house to continue cataloguing the crime scene.

Your hunger will have to wait. 

—————

“Fuck, I’m so glad to be leaving this town tomorrow,” Aaron confesses as the hotel room door clicks shut behind you. He turns to find you blindly following him further into the room, a vacant expression on your face, though your eyes track his every move. “Honey, what is it?” His brows draw together in concern while he tugs at his tie. You watch his fingers work their way into the knot to undo it, and your tongue darts out to wet your lips while the embers that’ve been burning in your lower belly for days flare to life. “Honey?” Aaron tries again, genuinely growing worried now. “Do you feel sick? Or did one of those assholes say something to you to get back at me? Just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll-”

“No, Aaron,” you finally blurt out. “I’m just- I need you,” you confess softly, wringing your hands.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you know immediately that he understands your meaning but is choosing to toy with you now. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“No, Aaron,” you repeat, more forcefully this time. “I need you.” Finally, after days of suppressing your desire, you snap and push him to sit on the edge of the bed so you can straddle his lap, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips when your skirt rides up enough to let you feel the heat of him through your already wet panties. You start grinding on him in earnest, rocking your hips against the zipper of his slacks in search of some kind of reprieve from the persistent ache between your legs. It’s not enough, and you tell him as much amid a whine.

“Oh god,” you keen breathily, “oh fuck, I need more.” His tie already loosened, you tug the loop of fabric over his head and toss it behind you, then pop open the top few buttons of his shirt and mouth hungrily at his chest, moaning at the salt on his skin from chasing down the unsub earlier. You suck a few possessive marks into his skin, whimpering at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you from your repetitive motions, and slide your hands into his hair for a better grip.

Then you feel Aaron’s strong hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you back and forcing you to detach your swollen lips from his chest, now marred with teeth marks from your desperation. He tucks his index finger under your chin and lifts your head up to find tears welling in your eyes and your bottom lip trembling. “Why are you pouting, sweet girl?” The condescension in his tone and the weight of the power he holds over you sends another wave of arousal pooling between your already slick thighs. “Are you feeling empty?”

You blink slowly, and traitorous tears roll down your cheeks when you drop your head into a nod with a pathetic sniffle. He takes pity on you and slides his thumb into your mouth, allowing you to suck on it and gratefully swirl your tongue around the thick digit as you start grinding on him again. Then he runs his thumb down your chin leaving a cooling trail of your own spit on your heated skin before dipping his hand under your skirt to press his thumb against the embarrassingly wet spot on your panties. Your head falls back and your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out as your brain short circuits. You’re practically vibrating at this point, so utterly desperate for him, and he laughs darkly at your need which only serves to turn you on even more. “How long have you been thinking about this, hm?”

“Since-” You swallow down the saliva flooding your mouth before mustering up the resolve to continue. “Since you yelled at the sheriff,” you confess softly, and he chuckles again.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Aaron tuts. “That was days ago.”

You let out a startled squeak when he roughly grabs your hips and deposits you on the bed without warning. His large hands tuck into the dip of your shirt and then he’s ripping it open, buttons flying in all directions. He flips you over with no semblance of tenderness and you let out a gasp, one of his hands unclasping your bra while the other tugs down the zipper at the back of your pencil skirt.

Suddenly you’re on your back again, and within the span of a few seconds you’re laid bare before a fully clothed Aaron, sans tie and the few buttons of his shirt you managed to fumble open earlier. You stare up at his towering figure in awe, your breath coming in short pants that match the heaving of his chest, the only sign that he’s as turned on as you are.

Then he’s undoing his belt buckle, and your walls flutter at the thought of what’s coming next. “Yes, oh yes, please, please, please,” you beg breathily, squeezing your eyes shut and fisting the sheets at the telltale sound of Aaron’s zipper opening.

He slides his cock through your folds to gather your wetness then presses just the tip in, and you release a downright pornographic moan at the sensation. Aaron ever so gently rests his hand on your throat and squeezes once to get your attention, waiting for your bleary eyes to focus on his face before shushing you softly. “Everyone’s rooms are nearby and they need to rest, so you have to be quiet, okay, angel? Can you do that for me?”

Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy brain, you realize he didn’t say anything about caring if your team can hear how much pleasure he wrings out of you. He just wants to ensure your friends can get their much needed sleep after a trying case.

But then you hone in on the throbbing between your legs again, and you remember he’s waiting for an answer. You’re so desperate for him to be inside you that you’d say yes to anything he asked right now, so you nod vigorously, biting down on your lip and squeezing your eyes shut once more. He smiles proudly and says, “That’s my good girl.” Aaron presses his other hand to your lower belly and finally, finally slides into you agonizingly slowly while reverently professing, “You look so good when you’re full of me.”

You’re helpless to do anything but nod again because he’s right, of course he’s right. This is when you feel the most beautiful, feel entirely whole and complete, when you’re being worshipped by and getting to worship Aaron Hotchner.

You let out a whimper that your partner intuits as a plea for him to move, and he begins slowly thrusting in and out of your wet heat, the hand on your stomach keeping you keenly aware of just how big he is with each drive of his hips. Aaron squeezes your throat gently, and somewhere in the back of your mind you know that means he wants your eyes on him. You lift your heavy-lidded gaze to his, weighed down by lust and love, to find him watching your every micro-expression and easily reading your reactions. He can feel what angle, what speed, what pressure makes your body sing, and he hits all the right spots as he gradually picks up his pace.  The bite of his metal belt buckle against the back of your thigh with each roll of his hips reminds you that he’s still fully dressed while you’re stark naked and completely at his mercy, and the power dynamic has you clenching around him, doing everything you can to be as close to him as possible.

By this point, you’re a hiccuping, crying, desperate mess, and when Aaron releases his hold on your throat to grip your hip instead, you choke out a plea of, “Harder.”

“More, baby?” he asks between pants, and you whimper, “Please, daddy, please.”

Aaron lifts your ankle onto his shoulder to get an even deeper angle, pressing his hand down more forcefully against your stomach so he can feel himself moving inside of you with every thrust. He picks up speed until you can’t even cry his name anymore, just little gasps knocking out of you each time his hips meet yours.

Seeking better leverage, he pauses his worship of your body to slide you higher up on the bed so he can brace himself against the wall with his right arm. The change in angle and power of his thrusts has you seeing stars, your hands fisting in his hair in an attempt to anchor yourself to the real world. “My good girl,” he punctuates each word with a hard thrust, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead and a few errant strands of hair falling into his face.

You can’t say anything back, rendered dumbstruck by his expert ministrations, so Aaron carries on with his adoration. “In the field and in my bed, hm? My good little girl. All mine.”

His words are getting breathier by the minute, morphing into whimpers of pleasure that mimic your own, and you start crying harder knowing he’s about to really fill you up. He leans down to lick your tears off your cheeks and you shudder underneath him, raking your nails down his back and clinging to him for dear life.

When you feel his thick cock twitch inside of you, you start babbling, “Yes, yes, yes, give it to me, daddy. Please, oh god, please fucking breed me.” Your desperate command turns out to be Aaron’s undoing, and the feeling of him painting your walls with a surprised gasp has you clamping down around him, every nerve in your body firing at once as an indescribable orgasm rips through you. Despite the muscles in his legs spasming, Aaron continues fucking you through it, evidently trying to make good on your request.

Spent and satiated, Aaron eases out of you, giving you a quick cleanup and shedding himself of his clothes before climbing into bed to help you back down to earth. He pulls you into his lap and dries your tears, dotting gentle kisses along your cheeks, neck, and shoulders. You wrap your limbs around his body, clinging to him, and Aaron rubs your back until you calm down and your hiccups subside to deep breaths instead.

Ever so quietly, he asks, “Better, my baby?” You nod your head where it’s resting in the crook of his neck and murmur, “Thank you, Aaron. I needed that. Needed you so badly.”

“Anything you need, princess, you know that.” There's a thoughtful pause and then, “We’ll talk about that… new thing later. After a good night’s rest.” You’re grateful he turned off the light before getting into bed because a blush warms your cheeks at the memory. Even though he can’t see your face, he knows you’re getting shy and emits a soft laugh. “If you couldn’t tell, I loved it,” Aaron reassures you, then presses his lips to your temple.

He settles back into the bed with you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair to further calm your breathing. “Now get some sleep,” he orders gently. “If you really want me to make you a mama, you need to rest before we practice again tomorrow morning.”

—————

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

[m4rv3l-girl]

Hellooo! I stumbled upon your writing on request & it was so good and you deliver it perfectly. So here am I requesting a ff from you. Its about reader/OC where she also an avenger. Bucky is in relationship with her. Most of their mission were almost together & for this one they were separated. It wasn’t unusual but this time Bucky seems more agitated. This cause them to have arguments. Before they could resolve it she was sent to the mission earlier than dated. Bucky regret what he said to her & try to find her to apologise but what he gets was an upsetting news. Her plane had been hijacked. I need angst but with happy ending please. Yearning is good to add too. Thank you so much and sorry if my request was too much. 🤍🩵🤍🩵💗

Hijacked

Warnings: mentions of violence.

Bucky leaned against the sleek counter in the Avengers Tower communal kitchen, nursing his fifth cup of coffee of the day.

The bitter liquid did nothing to ease the churn of unease in his stomach. Y/N had left the room hours ago after their latest argument, the tension still heavy in the air. He hated when they fought, hated the way her voice wavered when she’d told him he was overreacting, and especially hated the way she’d walked away before he could figure out how to apologize.

It wasn’t unusual for them to be sent on separate missions. As one of the most capable field agents on the team, Y/N often worked independently or alongside Natasha, while Bucky found himself paired with Steve or Sam. They always managed, always found their way back to each other. This time, though, something was different. He couldn’t shake the nagging worry gnawing at the edges of his mind, the sense that something was off.

"You're being ridiculous," Y/N had said earlier, her tone sharp but her eyes soft. "I can handle myself, Bucky. You know that."

"I know you can," he’d snapped back, running a hand through his hair. "But that doesn't mean I have to like the idea of you being out there alone. Especially now."

“Now?” she’d echoed, crossing her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I—” He’d faltered, his frustration overriding his ability to articulate the fear gripping his chest. "I just think we should’ve had more time to prepare. It’s not like they couldn’t have waited a day or two."

She’d sighed then, exasperated. “This is what we do. It’s not always perfect timing.”

And then she’d walked out.

The sound of a nearby chair scraping against the floor jolted Bucky from his thoughts. Sam plopped down across from him, tossing a protein bar onto the counter.

“You look like you’ve been brooding for hours,” Sam remarked, unwrapping the bar. “What’s going on?”

“Y/N’s mission got moved up,” Bucky muttered, staring into his coffee. “We argued before she left.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And she’s already gone,” Bucky admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t get to apologize.”

Sam chewed thoughtfully. “She’ll be fine, man. Y/N’s a badass. But you should probably work on this whole ‘bottle-up-your-emotions-until-they-explode’ thing. It’s not a great look.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his mind too tangled with guilt and worry. He couldn’t shake the image of Y/N walking onto the Quinjet, her back rigid and her expression unreadable. He should’ve stopped her. He should’ve said something—anything.

Hours turned into a restless night. Bucky paced his room, glancing at his phone every few minutes, waiting for some kind of update. When the call finally came, it wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Barnes,” Steve’s voice crackled through the line, urgent and grim. “Y/N’s plane has been hijacked.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Bucky gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.

“What do you mean, hijacked?” he demanded, his voice barely steady.

“En route to the mission,” Steve explained. “The plane went off course. We lost contact about an hour ago.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. An hour. Anything could have happened in that time. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more horrifying than the last.

“I’m going after her,” he said immediately, already moving to grab his gear.

“Bucky—” Steve started, but Bucky cut him off.

“Don’t try to talk me out of this,” he growled. “You’d do the same if it were me.”

Steve sighed. “Just… be careful.”

Bucky barely registered Steve’s next words as he ended the call, his mind already racing. His stomach churned with a potent mix of dread and determination as he grabbed his gear, slinging his tactical bag over his shoulder. He could feel the weight of Steve's gaze as he passed him in the hallway.

“She’ll be okay, Buck,” Steve said softly, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his own worry. “Y/N’s one of the best.”

Bucky nodded stiffly, but the knot in his chest didn’t loosen. She was the best—that’s what scared him. He knew exactly what kind of danger someone like her would attract. And now she was out there, in the hands of God-knows-who, and the last words he’d said to her were drenched in frustration instead of love.

“Don’t wait up,” Bucky muttered before walking out, leaving Steve in the hallway.

Down in the briefing room, Sam was already poring over satellite data, his brow furrowed in concentration. Natasha stood next to him, arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the map projected on the wall.

“Tell me you’ve got something,” Bucky said, his voice taut.

“We’re working on it,” Sam replied, glancing up. “Last known coordinates put her plane about here.” He pointed to a dense patch of forest on the map, far from any major cities or settlements. “But that’s where it went dark. No signals since.”

“What kind of hijackers force a plane down in the middle of nowhere?” Bucky muttered, more to himself than to them.

Natasha gave him a pointed look. “The kind who want privacy. Whoever they are, they knew what they were doing.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “Then we don’t have time to waste. How do we get there?”

“I’ve got a Quinjet ready,” Natasha said, already moving toward the hangar. “Sam’s coming with me to cover the air. You?”

“I’m going on the ground,” Bucky said without hesitation. “I need to find her.”

Natasha didn’t argue, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment. “Fine. But don’t do anything stupid. She’ll need you in one piece.”

Bucky followed them to the hangar, his movements automatic as he loaded up on weapons and gear. Every second felt like an eternity, his mind replaying images of Y/N’s face, the sound of her voice when they’d argued.

“I’ll take the north quadrant,” Sam said as they boarded the Quinjet. “You can have the east. We’ll scan for heat signatures and anything out of the ordinary. Natasha’s running point.”

Bucky nodded absently, his focus already miles ahead of them, in that forest where Y/N was waiting.

As the Quinjet took off, the hum of the engines did little to soothe his nerves. Natasha’s voice crackled through the comms, giving updates on their trajectory, but Bucky barely listened. His gaze was fixed out the window, the cityscape below giving way to sprawling green wilderness.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You good?”

“No,” Bucky admitted, his voice low. “But I will be when I find her.”

Sam studied him for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll get her back. You know that, right?”

Bucky didn’t answer. He couldn’t let himself think about any other possibility.

The Quinjet began to descend, the dense forest rising up to meet them. Natasha’s voice came through the comms again.

“We’re close to the coordinates. There’s a clearing about half a mile east where we can set down. From there, it’s on foot.”

Bucky was already moving toward the hatch, his gear secured and his mind focused. As soon as the Quinjet touched down, he was out, the cool forest air hitting him like a slap.

Sam and Natasha followed, the three of them standing in the shadow of the towering trees.

“Keep in contact,” Natasha said, her voice brisk. “If you find anything, call it in.”

Bucky gave a curt nod before heading east, his steps quick and purposeful. The forest was dense, the underbrush tangling around his boots and the canopy overhead blocking out most of the light. His enhanced senses sharpened, every sound and movement setting him on edge.

“Come on, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the trees. “Give me something.”

The faint smell of smoke caught his attention first, acrid and metallic. He moved toward it, his heart pounding. As he pushed through the underbrush, the wreckage came into view.

The plane was mangled, its nose buried in the dirt and its wings twisted at unnatural angles. Smoke still curled from the fuselage, the acrid scent stinging his nose. Bucky’s breath caught as he took in the scene, his eyes darting over the wreckage for any sign of movement.

“Nat, I’ve found the plane,” he said into his comm, his voice tight.

“Any sign of Y/N?” Natasha’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Not yet,” he said, moving closer. “But I’m not leaving until I do.”

Bucky’s heart pounded as he approached the site, the wreckage stark against the green backdrop. Smoke curled into the air, and the unmistakable scent of burnt metal lingered. He moved silently, his enhanced senses on high alert.

“Come on, Doll,” he murmured under his breath, scanning the area. “Where are you?”

The first sign of life came in the form of muffled voices. Bucky crept closer, his body tensed for a fight. He spotted a group of armed men near the wreckage, their attention focused on something—or someone.

Y/N.

She was on her knees, her hands bound but her gaze defiant. A trickle of blood ran down her temple, but she didn’t look broken. If anything, she looked furious.

Bucky’s chest swelled with both pride and anger. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. One wrong move could put her in more danger. He had to be smart about this.

The fight was over in minutes. Bucky moved like a shadow, taking out the guards one by one. By the time the last man hit the ground, Y/N was already working to free herself.

“Bucky,” she breathed, relief and frustration mingling in her voice.

He was at her side in an instant, his metal hand snapping her restraints like they were nothing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice wavered. “But what the hell are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing,” he admitted, his hands hovering over her, unsure where to touch. “I had to make sure you were safe.”

Her expression softened, the anger melting away. “You idiot,” she murmured, throwing her arms around him.

Bucky held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For what I said. For not stopping you. For everything.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You don’t have to apologize. I know you were just worried.”

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice raw. “Not now. Not ever.”

“You won’t,” she promised, her hand cupping his cheek. “I’m right here.”

They made their way back to the Quinjet, leaning on each other for support. Bucky couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, as if reassuring himself that she was really there.

Back at the tower, the rest of the team welcomed them with relieved smiles and teasing remarks. But Bucky didn’t let Y/N out of his sight, his hand always brushing against hers, his presence a constant reminder that she wasn’t alone.

Later, as they lay tangled together on the couch, Bucky pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m never letting you go on a mission alone again,” he murmured.

Y/N chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “We’ll see about that.”

For now, though, they were together, and that was all that mattered.

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed it, hun! 🫶

[chgridlock]

Fine. LN- pt 2.

Part. 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/chgridlock/749224119672995840/fine-ln-series-1

Y/n and Lando were childhood best friends, an inseparable duo who knew each other’s secrets like the back of their hand. But then came F1. Lando transformed into a playboy prince, his name synonymous with champagne showers and a different model on every arm. Models just like y/n, except for her. Disgusted, she distanced herself, the warmth of their friendship replaced by a biting cold. Y/n, chasing her own dreams, blossomed into a sough-after model, gracing the covers of magazines right under Lando’s nose, well, at least that’s what she assumed. In taught, Lando followed her religiously on social media, a secret admirer hidden behind a facade of arrogante.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, ex best friends au, Lando being a little dick

The torrential downpour caught me off guard, it was way worst now, transforming the picturesque cobblestone streets into a treacherous obstacle course. My flimsy jacket offered little protection against the relentless onslaught, and my heels sank precariously into the slick pavement with each step. I was a comical sight, a clumsy ballet dancer struggling against the elements.

Lando watched from the car, his initial annoyance replaced by a growing sense of unease. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt stab at his heart. Perhaps he had been too hard. Seeing you struggle, your once defiant stance replaced by a comical awkwardness, chipped away at his resolve.

He sighed, a heavy exhale that fogged up the windshield for a moment. With a flick of his wrist, he threw the car back into park, the engine sighing softly to a halt. The silence outside was broken only by the relentless drumming of the rain in the roof.

“Just get back in…” he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the downpour. I could sense the shame in his eyes, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before it was masked by his gruff demeanor.

I couldn’t help but scoff at his suggestion. “Oh, really?” I drawled, my voice dripping with sarcasm. With a flick of my damp hair, I sashayed past the car, the precariousness of my heel adding an element of defiance to my movements. “Who does he think he is for real…” I think to myself.

Lando watched me go, a wave of frustration washing over him. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sound echoing hollowly in the car. “Damn it…” he muttered, more to himself than anything else.

“Can you just get back in the car?” He yelled, his voice laced with exasperation. “Do you have any idea how stubborn you are right now?” The rain blurred his vision as he looked out at my retreating figure, a sense of helplessness gnawing at him.

“You literally said ‘get out’” i retorted, my voice barely a whisper carried on the wind. I stopped, turning to face him, my posture stiff and defiant despite the rain cascading down my face. “It’s not my fault that you’re so-“

He cut me off, his voice rising in frustration. “I said ‘get out’ because you were being difficult…” he explained, the words tumbling out in a rush. But even to his own ears, they sounded hollow.

“Difficult?” I scoffed, the sound laced with a hurt that mirrored his own.

“It’s no my fault that you’re so stubborn and unreasonable that you’d rather walk in this heavy rain and get soaked to the bone than accept my help.”

I stood there, a defiant island in a sea of rain, my jacket clutched protectively around my shivering form. I met his gaze, a silent battle of wills playing out between us. The air crackled with unspoken emotions.

He glared at you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger. His patience had worn thin, freaked by your defiance like a threadbare rope. Dealing with this felt like navigating a minefield, one wrong step and the whole thing would explode.

“Fine,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “Walk home alone in the rain. Be an idiot. Just know that I don’t care if you catch a chill or a fever.”

He revved the engine, the sound growling in the quiet street. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. But the satisfaction curdled quickly, replaced by something akin to worry again. How can you do this to him? You felt like a drug he can’t let go.

You stood there, a solitary figure dwarfed by the storm, your bravado slowly dissolving as the rain soaked through your clothes. Seeing you like that, shivering and defiant, chipped away at his resolve. He couldn’t understand why he care. He didn’t want to care.

But you irritated him so much, that the line between annoyance and concern became blurred. He slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. Before he couldn’t think twice, he was out of the car, his boots splashing through the puddles separating you.

He approached you, his jaw clenched tight. He wanted to scream at you, to shake some sense into your stubborn head. But the anger simmered just below the surface, overshadowed by a strange protectiveness he couldn’t explain. He stood in front of you, towering over your rain-soaked form, the unspoken conflict swirling between you thick enough to touch.

“Can you please come in the car now?” He finally managed, his voice rough around the edges. A hint of exasperation lingered, but beneath it, a softer note resonated- concern. Your Lan. “Your clothes are all soaked. I’ll drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a command, albeit a reluctant one. You sighed, the sound heavy with a concession he wasn’t entirely sure he’d earned.

“Fine,” you mumbled, defeat lacing you voice. “Just because my feet are killing me.”

He rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance persisting despite the relief that washed over him. “Then come on”

He extended his hand towards you, a silent invitation. His voice remained gruff, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

“I can go alone,” you challenged, a hint of defiance clinging to your voice.

He rolled his eyes again, exasperation bubbling back up. “Don’t be stubborn. Take my goddamn hand.”

He barked the order, clearly annoyed. His anger, like a storm cloud, was threatening to engulf the fragile truce that had just been established. But the moment your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity sit through him, a forgotten memory come alive. Your touch, oh, how he’d missed it. Nothing in the world felt quite as right as the way your hand fit perfectly in his.

He gripped your hand tightly, the warmth seeping through your damp clothes, a silent reassurance in the midst of the storm. His eyes, however, remained stormy, reflecting the inner turmoil he refused to acknowledge. As he walked you back to the car, a grange protectiveness washed over him, a stark contrast to the annoyance that still simmered beneath the surface.

He opened the car door with a flourish, a touch more dramatic than necessary. “Get in,” he mumbled, the gruffness in his voice a mask for the unexpected tenderness he felt. He gently guided you towards the passenger seat, his touch lingering just a moment too long before finally letting go.

Slipping into the car, you stole a glance at him. His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead. A tense silence, descended, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the wipers and the steady hum of the engine.

Despite the anger radiating from him, you couldn’t but feel a flicker of a warmth blossom in your chest. The entire ordeal had been frustrating, a tempestuous dance that left you both breathless and bewildered. His irritation, however, was slowly morphing into something else, a concern he couldn’t quite disguise.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. Finally, you felt compelled to break it. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the rain.

He didn’t respond, his gaze unwavering on the road ahead. You knew he heard you, the slight twitch of his jaw a silent acknowledgement. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a tangled web of emotions caught between the two of you.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally broke the silence, his voice cold and curt. “Don’t thank me,” he muttered, his words clipped. “I just did it so you wouldn’t complain about getting sick later.”

He fell silent again, the car an isolated bubble in the storm outside. But beneath the gruff exterior, a flicker of something more complex flickered in his eyes, a secret he wouldn’t share, not yet.

“Great,” I muttered, the sarcasm dripping from my voice like the rain from the car roof. He glanced at me again in the mirror, his jaw still clenched tight. His grip on the steering wheel was a white-knuckled testament to his simmering frustration.

“You don’t even feel the least bit guilty about how stubborn you were?” He scoffed.

“And you?” I shot back, anger flashing in my eyes. He met my gaze for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion clouding his features.

“Me? What about my stubbornness?” He genuinely didn’t seem to understand. How could his actions be construed as anything but helpful? The unfairness of it all gnawed at him, fueling his irritation. He wanted to yell, to unleash the torrent of emotions swirling within him, but the words wouldn’t come.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please,” I drawled, the dismissiveness in my tone adding fuel to the fire.

“Don’t ’oh please’ me,” he growled, he stole another glance at me, his expression morphing into a scornful glare.

Silence descended one more, thick and suffocating. He focused on the rain-slicked road ahead.

“Then you shouldn’t have helped me,” I said, my voice laced with a bitterness that mirrored his own.

The anger he’d been struggling to contain flared up, a hot member rekindled. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I shouldn’t have,” he conceded, the words laced it’s regret. “Now I just regret it because i was stupid enough to think you were sensible enough to realize that someone was trying just to help you…”

He refuses to look at me, the silence reminder of the tangled mess this whole ordeal had become.

“God, you’re so arrogant…” he muttered under his breath, his irritation spiking with every scoff and cold glance you threw his way. “You can’t even admit you were wrong and just stubborn as hell,” he pressed.

“Whatever,” you snapped, the frustration hanging heavily in the air. “Just get me home and that’s it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice tight with barely contained anger. The car fell silent one more, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And, for the record…” he started after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous. He hesitated, weighting his words carefully. “I hope you catch a cold from the rain.” A childish taunt, but one laced with a deeper meaning.

“Touché..-idiot,” you countered, a sly smile playing on your lips despite your irritation. His words, though mean-spirited, held an undercurrent of concern that you couldn’t ignore.

“Shut up…” he mumbled, his annoyance flaring at your defiance. But beneath the anger, a flicker of relief sparked. He hated the way you got under his skin, the constant back and forth that drove him crazy, yet somehow, it was better than the suffocating silence.

He pulled the car to stop in front of your apartment building, the arrival a bittersweet relief. “Fine.” You spat, flinging open the car door and stepping out onto the rain-slicked sidewalk.

He watch you slam the door shut, the sound echoing through the quiet street. Part of him was glad to see you go, the tension within the car finally released. But another, deeper part, a part he refused to acknowledge, felt a pang of something akin to loneliness at your departure. He wanted to call you back, to follow you inside.

The urge to chase after you was a physical ache in his chest but his stubborn pride, a double-edged sword, wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat. He watched you walk away, your figure growing smaller in the distance, his frown deepening with each step, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. You cast one final glance over your shoulder, your eyes filled with a mixture of anger and something he couldn’t decipher, and you left him alone, alone with the storm outside.

Author’s note: Tysm to everyone who liked the first part of the story. What do you guys think about these two childish idiots? More parts to come ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Tag list: @persiar9 @mia-rrrs @ssararuffoni @kapsylia

[bernardsbendystraws]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

with love and big tits, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

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Chapter 16: Lucky

Despite my tired mind, my mood was exploding with euphoric excitement. Waking up, I was scared it had all been a dream. I was ecstatic when I opened my eyes, our bodies still tangled under the sheets. 

I fought against daydreams throughout the entire school day, failing countlessly as my mind wandered to the thought of him. Every once in a while, I would catch him staring at me or vice versa, the smiles and reddened flush of our cheeks told a story silently between only us. 

Currently, we were sitting in the car after dropping Chris and Nick at the house. Our backpacks were stored in his backseat in the now barren spots, his hand finding its place  cradling my own on the center console. 

I sucked my lips in between my teeth as the silence consumed the air. The anticipation was gnawing at my gut, eating away at the swarm of butterflies that seemed to keep tripling by the second. 

“You good there?” He asks, a teasing tone dripping from his words. I whip my head towards him, nodding with a tight lipped smile. The smirk residing on his face oozes confidence, melting the facade on my face as I quickly look out the front windshield, avoiding his eyes. 

“Are you?” I question, letting my eyes drift to his. The attempt at making him shrink with shyness fails completely. He shrugs, leaning forward and resting his chin in his propped up arm. 

“Never been better, sweetheart.” The nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, making my stomach clench from the overwhelming nerves of excitement. He leans back into his chair, running his hand through his hair. “Do you have anything tonight?” he asks, looking back over at me. 

I shake my head with squinted eyes. “I mean–just our literature assignment, but that’s it…why?” I remark. 

He shrugs, licking his lips. His eyes gleam down into mine with a mischievous look. I analyze his face, finding no hints at his taunting clues. “Well…” he trails off, squeezing my hand in his own. “I was hoping you’d go on a date with me?” he asks. 

The hopeful look in his eyes makes my cheeks burn from the aching smile. I nod affirmatively, watching as his shoulders tense upwards with excitement. “What are we doing?” I ask. 

He puts the car back in drive. “I was thinking about something, but I kinda want it to be a surprise.” he says, looking towards the road as the car starts to move forward. He looks over at me, his eyes glancing with a silent question. 

“Can’t wait.” I reply. He gives me a slight grin, turning his attention quickly back to the road. His hand clutches onto mine tighter. 

The soft music in the car echoes as a comfortable silence falls between the two of us. My mind flickers to lewd scenes of last night, a burning red blushing over my face as I turn my gaze out the side window. 

I didn’t just like making him feel good. I liked how close it made me feel to him now. Vulnerability had been exchanged so naturally, so comfortably. The thought of yesterday’s events would’ve sent me to my grave months ago, but now…it was different. 

I didn’t feel like there was pressure for it to happen again. It didn’t feel awkward. The only result was how much more my body felt at ease with our bare skin touching. 

The song comes to an end as we pull in front of a familiar store. I furrow my eyebrows, the logo and aesthetic of the store resembling a kids commercial. 

Build-A-Bear

“What is this place?” I ask. Matt shrugs, quickly exiting the car and running over to my door. 

“Let me show you,” he suggests. His hand reaches over me, unclipping my seatbelt. He stands up, outreaching a hand for me. I accept the gesture, sliding my palm against his as I feel his fingers clasp around me. 

_

Overwhelming was the only word coursing through my mind as we roamed the vibrant store. Hundreds and thousands of different options of various toys and accessories clouded the walls. “Hey,” Matt nudges into me with his shoulder, “--you okay? You’re squeezing the life out of my hand right now.” he laughs. 

I immediately loosen my grip on his hand with embarrassment. “Sorry.” I mumble. He clutches my hand tighter, directing our steps to a wall of stuffless-stuffed animals. “Just…this is a lot for me.” I express. 

His fingers gently pull tighter with a firm grab. “Don’t worry about anything, I have everything planned out,” he says. The assurance in his voice crawls into my body as I heave out a shaky sigh, nodding my head. 

With my hand in his grasp, he pulls a couple of items off the shelf, out of my view. He politely talks to the worker as my ears clutch onto the sounds surrounding me. A screaming kid in the corner makes my skin crawl. I find myself leaning further into him, his thumb caressing the back of my palm lightly in circles. 

The child leaves with his family, the store’s soft music audible. “--thanks, have a good day!” The employee waves as Matt grabs the bag from her. I give the girl a smile, waving back as Matt guides us out the door. 

“Thanks,” I mumble as he opens the passenger door for me. Tugging the seatbelt across my body, I hear him settle into the driver’s seat. He sets down the bags in the back, holding an open palm on the center console. I intertwine my hand in his, the warmth of his palm radiating into mine. 

My eyes wander to the bag with curiosity. “Hey!” He squeezes my hand, giving me a tooth rotting grin. “--no looking! I want it to be a surprise.” he says. I nod sheepishly, turning my head forward and watch the trees pass by on the side of the road. 

Has it always been this beautiful here? 

The spring weather seemed to bring forth a new glow to the place. The pale blue skies that faded into a warm sunset at the end of the day seemed more vibrant. 

My neck cranes to the side, my eyes gazing at him as he focuses his attention on the road. 

Has he always been this beautiful?

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. His eyelashes created a gentle shadow right below his eyes, one that had filled me with an envious admiration. 

He’s so pretty, it hurts. 

“What thinkin’ over there? Hm?” I snap out of my trance at his voice cutting through the silence. A blush falls onto my cheeks, crawling up to my ears as his eyes meet mine. Abruptly, I hide my face, looking out the passenger window. 

“Nothin’.” I reply under my breath. His hand clutches tighter as his laughter rings through the car over the soft music in the background. I liked the song playing, I really did–but all of me wished it wasn’t playing. The subtle noise overlapping with his soft giggles made my free hand sitting in my lap twitch, wanting to push the radio off. 

As I let the thought marinate, my mind ran in devious circles. One repeating fact echoed through the walls of my head with a prideful smile on my face.  

He didn’t typically laugh at school—or even talk. I had become one of the people that knew what his laugh sounded like, it had been engraved in my memory. 

I felt lucky. 

Matt had landed in my life so unexpectedly. I remembered how hard it was to read him, sitting in the back of the car and meeting his gaze through the rear view mirror. The experience brought a smile to my face. 

I hadn’t even realized when everything had changed–but it most definitely had. A proud giddiness flowed through my body as I bit down on the soft flesh of the inside of my cheek. 

As the car pulls to a slow stop, I look over at him with a questioning look as I tilt my head to the side. He smiles, holding up his pointer finger before getting out of the car. 

Walking over to my side, he opens the door, grabbing my hand as he guides me between the tall trees. The short path opens up to a vacant ground, a familiar blue checkered blanket laying in the middle of the void. 

My eyes flicker towards him as he shrugs. “Stay here and close your eyes, okay?” I plant my bottom on the ground as I squint my eyes at him. With a hesitant nod of my head, he softly drops my hands as I let my eyes flutter closed. 

His footsteps kicking the ground with a purposeful stride become quieter and quieter. The sound of his car door opening and shutting makes my skin pulse with excitement. 

What is he doing?

My heart thumps with anticipation as I hear his footsteps coming back, a small crinkling of a bag being heard in unison with his steps. I feel his arm brush mine as his thigh grazes my own. His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing lightly. The warmth of his hand leaves my clothed leg, a soft weight being placed in my lap. 

“You can look now, sweetheart.” I fight back the smile at the nickname, failing miserably as my eyes fall to my lap. 

My hands reach out, grasping the soft stuffed animal as the gasp leaks from my lips. “You didn’t!” I exclaim. I tug the moose into my chest, hugging it excitedly. My body vibrates with an irresistible urge of energy, my body lurching onto his. 

A laugh pushes through my lips as he latches his hands on my waist. He falls on his back from the unexpected motion, making my eyes go wide. I tug my hand out from between us, rubbing the back of his head with worry. “I’m–” 

The words are cut off, spilling into his lips with a mumble as his mouth presses against mine. My eyes flutter closed at his passion dripping through the action, reciprocating his movements. I feel his lips tug into a smile on mine, my lips puckering one last kiss against him before I hold my head up. 

My eyes flutter open, finding his already trained on my face. His eyes are hazed over, a soft emotion seeping through his gaze. My stomach curls with a beckoning urge, my lips stuck together like glue. 

I think I’m falling in love with him.

It doesn’t leave my lips, but it chants in the front of my mind. 

How could I not?

The comforting breeze surrounds our entangled bodies. The prodding in my chest from the stuffed animal makes a blush crawl up from my neck as I crawl off of him. “Sorry.” I mumble shyly. 

I sit up, hugging the stuffed animal into my stomach. I feel his arm slither around me, loosely letting his hand fall to my hip. “--it’s more than okay, trust me.” he says. 

I smile, leaning my head onto his shoulder with my skin crawling from the adrenaline. “I trust you,” I breathe out. I nuzzle my head further into his shoulder, feeling his cheek rub against the top of my head softly. “--thank you. I…I love it so much. It’s perfect.” I express. 

I feel the heavy warm breath from above me on my scalp. I melt further into his touch, his hand clasping with a secure grip right beneath my hip. “--’m course. I wanted to for a while…just, I didn’t wanna scare you off.” he admits. 

A giggle pushes past my lips. “It doesn't scare me away, Matt. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, I mean it. It’s not the fact that you bought something for me. I just…” I trail off, sucking in breath as my gut clenches with knots of nerves. 

“That was really stressful, but I didn’t even have to tell you I was uncomfortable for you to notice—you handled everything and gave me this. A stuffed moose, something I would’ve never gotten myself, but I’ve always wanted. I…I can’t thank you enough, really.” I say. 

I bring my head up, seeing his eyes gleaming down at me with a threatening pool of tears laced above his waterline. My lips form into a pout seeing a tear weave down his bottom eyelashes. “Aww, Matt…” I say, bring a hand up and flicking the tear away. 

His lips part, quivering as he breathes harshly. “I…I…I just can’t believe you’re mine and in my life. I love being with you, I love making you happy, I love being around you….I just—I love you. I…I really love you.” 

My heart clenches in my chest as his eyes peer into mine. Love was leaking from his aura like an overflowing fountain, so beautiful in a calm chaos of emotion. 

I tilt my head up, letting my lips softly press a swift kiss against his lips. I pull back, caressing his cheek with my thumb. The smile curls on my lips. “I love you, Matt. I love you so much it hurts.” I say. 

He hugs me in closer with his hand on my hip, his forehead pressing against mine. Our eyes meet, a comfortable silence filling the mess of confessions lingering in the air. “I love you so much.” he whispers out. 

I hadn’t experienced much love in my life, but with the heavy words feeling so light from his lips—I felt satisfied. To be loved by someone as pure as him felt like a perfect mixture of heaven and peace. 

I’ve never felt so calm and excited at the same time. 

_

Madi slaps my arm, making me shriek from the sudden light pain. “He finally said it?!” she screams. I nod sheepishly as she slaps a hand over her mouth, letting it drop to her lap. Her wide eyes make the laugh fall from my mouth, my gut burning from the strained muscles as her expression remains shocked beyond belief. 

“I…I mean—he’s a pussy, sorry feminism–he’s a little penis sometimes. I'm just, I’m impressed!” she exclaims. I hunch over, clutching my stomach as the burning intensifies. 

Every fiber of my body felt euphoric with happiness as we sat on her bed together. Every detail had spilled from my mouth, her shrieks of excitement making me flustered as I told her nearly everything. I had never been so proud to explain something. 

Matt’s hoodie leaked wafts of pine and spices as it clothed my body. Although we had gone shopping together earlier, I couldn’t bring myself to lift the soft fabric off my body. 

I didn’t go crazy, but for once I actually got stuff at the mall using my saved up babysitting money. I had never even owned a swimsuit, now I owned two. Both were very simple. One was black and really basic, the other was a baby blue with a little less coverage. I was ecstatic to see Matt’s reaction to me wearing them in LA. 

The trip was getting closer and closer, but with that came tests. Our math class had already had our midterm early, which I was heavily grateful for. But, that left both of Era’s classes for Matt and I. I was stressed, to say the least. 

Doing homework growing up, I didn’t get help. I never asked because I always knew the answer. It would either be ‘no’ or ‘I don’t even know how to do that.’ Now, I didn’t even know how to begin to ask for help. Matt reading to me had been very helpful, but now it was a matter of me being able to do the work by myself for the test. 

I look over, finding Madi completely zoned out on her phone. “Hey, Mads?” I voice. Her head whips around. “--I’m gonna go to my room and study, okay?” She nods, kissing the air as I repeat the gentle gesture. 

The bed squeaks as I stand up. I walk out the door frame with my phone in hand, across the hall to ‘my’ room. 

Softly shutting the door, I lay out the materials from my backpack. Papers and assignments sprawled along the pillowy comforter, endless words making my eyes water with an aimless stare. Where do I even start? 

Letting out a loud huff, I pick up the first couple assignments. My glossed eyes fog my vision, getting blurrier as the words jumble cluelessly in my head. The wet, hot tear streaming down my cheek cascades down to the paper. My fingers unclasp from the material, letting it fall onto the bed with the singular drop of sadness multiplying quickly. The buzz of my phone catches my attention. 

[From Matt: Sleepover?] 

I grab the device, opening the chat and beginning to type. My fingers barely press down on the keyboard before a call starts ringing. I laugh dryly, taking a deep breath before swiping accept. 

Pulling the phone up to my ear, I sniffle back the remaining tears. “Matt?” I ask. 

“Hi, baby.” he greets. 

The heat rises to my cheeks as I let out a choked laugh. “You didn’t even let me respond to your text!” I point out. I sniffle back the mucus. 

“I saw you typing and got excited, okay? I–are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asks. My lip quivers as I look at the collected papers in front of me. I reach out holding back a cry as I grab onto the paper. My fingers clench onto the paper shakily, anger rising as I read the words that seem foreign. 

“I…nothing’s wrong. I, um–”

“I’m walking over now, okay?” His caring voice cuts me off as I hear shuffling on his side of the call. I bite into my lip. The tears haze over my vision as I drop the wrinkled assignment. 

“I’m fine, Matt. I was just studying and I don’t really understand–”

“For one, you’re not fine. Two, that’s great–we can study together then,” I hear the soft thud of a door on his side of the line. “Three,” his breath heaves into the phone, pounding sounds of his feet echoing through the phone. “--I’m here.” he finishes, his harsh breath slowing down. 

“Matt, you don’t have to–” 

“I know what you’re gonna say. Don’t. I know I don’t have to do anything—I want to.” he explains. His rugged breath slows to an even pace. I wipe away the stray tears on my cheeks, climbing out of my bed. 

“Are you sure?” I ask into the phone. My hesitancy seems to make a laugh slip from his throat. 

“Sweetheart, if you don’t come down here, I will start obnoxiously ringing this doorbell, and I mean it.” he warns. I shake my head with disbelief, rushing down the stairs with light steps. “Let me take care of my pretty girl, yeah?” he says. 

My eyes widen as I slip on my shoes. I grab my keys, pulling my phone downwards. I press the red button, the line going dead as I swing open the door. Matt’s face comes into view. His confused expression shifts into a prideful one as he looks up at me. 

“Shut up.” I mutter with a tight smile. He shrugs, grinning ear-to-ear. I shut the door behind me, locking it. As soon as the keys are out of the key hole, I shriek from the abrupt shift in movement. I look forward, my eyes now being met with Matt’s back as his hand holds me over his shoulder by the back of my thighs. “Matt!” I yell. 

His hand on my thigh squeezes, making my gut clench from the closeness of his lingering touch. “What?” he asks, completely unfazed. My eyes dart towards the ground, the pavement shifting into a wooden flooring. I hear his front door shut, his grasp still unmoving as I hang over him. 

“Are you gonna put me down?” I ask, laughing. His steps guide us into his room, he turns around with me still on him, my stomach feeling queasy from the harsh movement. “Matt, put me down!” I let out. His door shuts as he turns himself back towards the bed.

“Why, I don't wanna.” he mutters. He flips me onto my back, landing me on the bed. His devilish grin meets me with his innocent eyes. The contradiction sends my stomach into doing flips on itself. I push upward, letting myself sit up on the bed. 

Matt huffs while walking around and sitting on the other side of the bed. He pulls out his folder, setting it on the bed. He looks up at me with a pout. “Can I hold you now please?” he asks. My heart flutters at his soft request. I nod, crawling over to him. 

I barely make it an inch forward before he’s grabbing me gently, placing me down onto his lap. My back presses against his chest. He reaches out, grabbing the folder and tugging out a couple of sheets. He holds them in front of us, peering over my shoulder. 

“So,” his breath fans across my neck. I shiver at the sensation, feeling his chest vibrate with a gentle rumble of chuckles. “--wanna start here?” he points. I look down at the text, nodding with agreement. 

My eyes focus on the text at the sound of his voice. 

_

Time passed at a quick pace. Hours upon hours had drifted past, a void of worry in my mind as the information seemed to settle in my brain. Matt and I had eventually let a comfortable silence consume us as we reviewed the material. I had slid down, my head now resting on his thigh as he combed through my hair. 

A yawn falls from my lips. I hear him let out a breathy exhale, seeing his mouth in the formation of an ‘o’ with tired eyes. “Let’s go to bed, hm?” he suggests. I nod lazily, grateful for the fact we had both already gotten ready for bed. 

A tired mind, yet a heart full of life. My overflowing thoughts clouded with relief at the sight of him pulling the comforter over us. His arm slinging over me, tugging me impossibly closer into his chest made my lips curl with joy. 

“What are you smiling about, hm?” he teases, looking down at me with a grin. I playfully shrug, digging my face into his chest. His hand clasps around the back of my head. Soothing motions of his fingers combing through my hair pull my consciousness to a hazy drift. 

“I don’t know…” I mumble into his shirt. The rumble of his chest dies quickly, his arms tightening around me. 

“Wanna know what I’m thinking?” he offers. I pull away, furrowing my eyebrows at him. With a curt nod, his lips part, words starting to fall from his lips with a soft tone. “--I’m really excited to go to LA with you…even….,” he swallows thickly, “--even if you don’t move with me. I can’t wait to do everything with you. Well, not everything.” he adds under his breath. 

I cock my eyebrow up at him with a questioning gleam in my eyes. He tightens his lips together. “I don’t really wanna go to all the influencer parties, ya know? Well, we can go to a couple if you want to–but I just, I don’t know…I…” he trails off, his eyes floating away from mine. 

I bring my hand upward, trailing up his chest and neck until the tips of my fingers graze his jaw. His eyes flicker towards mine. “You…?” I repeat, urging him to continue gently. I let my painted nails wander on the slight stubble on his jaw. 

“I…I’m really excited. I already have a list of things we can do, I don’t wanna overwhelm you though.” He darts his tongue out, nervously licking over his bottom lip as his eyes struggle to stay on mine. “I…it might be a little out of both of our comfort zones, but I really wanna do something special.” he finishes softly. 

I fail at holding back a smile. The excitement brushes through my veins, my lips swiftly falling onto his with a subtle kiss. “I can’t wait.” I say. His nervous antics of his fingers lightly dancing in my hairline falter. He massages my scalp soothingly, a soft sensation as his gentle eyes meet mine. 

“I know we only just said it, but I fucking love you.” he says breathlessly. My hand clenched on his shoulder as a reaction, my lips staying tuned upward in the grin plastered on my face. 

Before I can even open my mouth, his lips press onto mine. The soft pucker echoes repeatedly. The light, feathery kisses trail around my face. Soft giggles fall from my lips. “Matt! I love you!” I laugh. He takes no initiative to stop, the light plants of his puckered lips forthcoming to a needier antic. The soft kisses turn sloppier, wet marks making me shiver as he places them onto my neck. 

“No..” he greedily lets his tongue slip through his lips onto my neck. “--you don’t understand. I love you. I just…fuck…I just want to be near you all the time. I care about you so much, so fucking much. How did I get so lucky?” he breaths out, his breath fanning harshly on my now salvia covered neck. 

I place my hands on either side of his head, bringing his face up to mine. I lean upwards, our lips intertwining with a newfound emotion. The soft yet sloppy need of his lips meets me with a growing anticipation. 

I want to be as close as possible to him. 

My body ached for him, my hands grappling desperately in his hair. “Fuck–we need to stop or I’m not gonna be able to control myself.” he whispers in my ear, heavy pants hot against my jaw. 

The sound of Chris yelling and Nick replying in an equally loud tone makes my stomach clench with laughter. Matt pulls upward, his eyes meeting mine before our laugh plays together like a melody of a song. 

“God, I just want you all to myself.” he says. I bite down on my bottom lip. He wants me. He loves me. He cares about me. How did I get so lucky? 

“I am all yours.” I state. He lets his body lay on the mattress, his head burying itself into my neck. A disapproving hum leaves his mouth, a slight shake of his head apparent. 

“God, you can’t say that.” he groans. His hardness presses into my thigh, a bulge heavily prominently prodding into me. The sensation of him pressing himself into me with the strain of his voice sends my mind into a frenzy. 

“Can we cuddle naked?” I ask. Matt abruptly shoots his head upward, staring down at me with wide eyes and parted lips. 

“Are you trying to kill me, baby?” he asks. The pet name sends a blush of heat crawling up my neck. I shrug, a small smile placing itself on my lips. 

“--just wanna be close. We don’t have to, I don’t wanna make things…” my eyes falter downward, “--harder.” The choice of words lets a playful huff leave my mouth. Matt shakes his head, his eyes falling softly shut. 

“I wanna be close too, but…I can’t exactly make this go away if you’re gonna be naked. Do you want me to keep my underwear on?” he offers. 

A slight pout of adoration falls onto my lips. The considerate offer and tone of his voice makes my heart flutter, my hands aching to reach out and comb through his hair. 

“No, not unless you want to.” I sheepishly spill out. He shakes his head, standing up from the bed and starting to strip his clothes off. My eyes bulge at the sight. He looks over at me, laughing. 

“If you stare at me like you’re gonna eat me, I don’t know how much self control I’m gonna have, sweetheart.” he says. My eyes dart away, my teeth clenching down into the soft flesh of the inside of my cheek. Every fiber of my skin feels burning hot with a pulsating desire. I take a deep breath, pulling off my clothes. 

As I pull down my underwear, kicking off the bed, Matt slides back under the sheets. His hands reach out. I feel his fingers clasp around my waist, pulling me to him in an instant. The burning heat of his skin against mine soothes my nerves, my heart beating loudly against his own chest. 

“Fuck.” he whispers out. His eyes are screwed shut as I run my hand through his hand, letting my fingers graze his scalp. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I mock. His eyes shoot open, gleaming with a hazy glow of admiration and desire down at me. 

“Don’t tease me, I’m already–” His mouth falls open silently, his eyes wincing shut as I sling my bare leg around his waist. I pull myself closer, feeling his hard dick grazing my inner thigh dangerously close to me. 

His hands grip at my waist with a near bruising grip before he takes a large breath, exhaling deeply. “Is this okay?” I ask. He nods furiously, his tongue licking over his glistening lips. 

Closer. Closer. Closer. 

I silence the chant in my mind, nuzzling my face below his chin. “This was a really good idea,” he says calmly. I hum in response, completely at bliss as his hands run up and down my back. 

The patter of my heart slows, our bodies creating a pool of warmth tangled together. My mind drifts off to lingering thoughts clouding my subconscious. LA with him. Living with him. 

What do I even have to stay for? 

“Mmmm…” he mutters into my hair, sleep apparent with his muffled voice. “---love you s’much…s’much…” he breathes out. 

My heart fluttered at his tired tone. I bathed in his confession, letting the honey envelope my body whole. Not a single trace of hesitancy lingered, my lips curling mindlessly as I believed every word falling from his lips. 

I love him. I believe him. 

No fighting for love or the slightest effort. He made me feel like enough without even trying. I had never been deeply insecure, but I had never felt like this.

The way he holds me in his arms feels like the picnic blanket. Soft with pillowy grass underneath, a fresh breeze luring my system to complete and utter peace.

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