#I don’t want to go there and… live. I wanna cut my arms instead. and my legs. and wrap them in bandages after. and curse myself when I’m…

[raubtierfuetterung]

У меня стресс и сердце бьется так быстро, так больно в груди. Причины нет. Сижу в кресле возле батареи и бездельничаю. А желтый свет наполняет комнату и кажется таким враждебным, и руки мои холодные..

[lovelivision]

BAD ROMANCE.ᐟ

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: gojo satoru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.4k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your love life is in a tragic state, all your dates go poorly and just when you think you found a nice guy you could like, that ends poorly too. good thing you have your best friend gojo to look out for you !

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, cheating (not done by reader or gojo), dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, spitting, praise, p in v sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, big dick!gojo, tease/mean!gojo (he likes embarrassing reader), jealous!gojo, gojo is down BAD, use of pet names, that's all !! (i think :3)

Checking the time again, you sigh, it’s bordering on an hour since you first sat down to wait for your date. The thought that you had been stood up entered your mind maybe half an hour ago but now it’s practically been cemented.

Maybe you should just cut your losses and leave but this is a nice place, it’d be a shame to waste the reservation. Hope that your date is going to miraculously show up has left you though. Opening your texts, you think of who to message, the idea to message Gojo briefly crossing your mind before you decide he is the worst possible person to tell about this.

Instead, you message Shoko, asking if she’s free and telling her of your failed date. It takes her a few minutes to reply and when she does, instead of a straightforward response, you receive a cryptic and ambiguous saluting emoji. Deciding to take that as confirmation of her presence, you begin waiting… again.

You think you’ve reached your waiting quota of the year, no more waiting on people. Why do people never seem to value your time? While lamenting to yourself silently, you don’t notice the arrival of someone incredibly familiar, someone incredibly exasperating.

“I’m hurt you know.”

The words startle you and as you look up to find the source of them, you’re confronted with Gojo standing beside you. Pouting like he’s feeling extremely slighted by you for some indiscernible reason.

You almost sputter at him, his presence completely unexpected, “What are you doing here?”

He ignores your question, continuing with his faux pain, “My best friend gets stood up and instead of messaging me… she messages Shoko? That stings.���

Sighing off his dramatics, you ask again, “What are you doing here, Gojo?”

“What else would I be here for?” He smiles big at you, moving to sit in the chair opposite you, flopping down and making himself comfortable, “I’m here to be your date!”

Propping your head up on your hand, you grumble at him, “How did you even know I was stood up?”

“I was with Shoko when you messaged her,” he shrugs easily.

You squint at him, “Why are you here and not her?”

“Because it is my duty as your best friend to be there for you.”

So stubborn about the weirdest things, you’ve known each other forever and sure, maybe he is your best friend, but this is something that has bruised your ego a bit. It’s silly, but for some reason… you don’t really want for Gojo to see you like this.

Sulking, you huff, “It’s not a big deal, I just didn’t wanna waste the reservation.”

“Don’t lie, you dressed up all cute and the dude couldn’t even be bothered to show up?” He frowns like he’ll get angry if he thinks about it for too long, “It’s a big deal.”

“You’re more upset about it then I am,” you play at indifference and while you don’t really care about your failed date, you are thinking really hard about how he said you dressed cute.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re always settling for less than what you deserve,” he grows a little more irritated, like his observation annoys him more than it annoys you.

Defending yourself with a grumble, “That’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” he smiles in a manner that exudes disbelief. Because it does, Gojo has witnessed you settle for less nearly every single day of your lives and every time he has to grit his teeth and cope.

Crossing your arms, you snark at him, “Don’t patronise me, Gojo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he still has that smile plastered on his face.

You glare at him from across the table but sit in silence, not really having anything else to say to him right now. Annoyed at yourself for losing the back and forth between the two of you for not the first time and definitely not the last.

Gojo, however, is not capable of sitting in silence for too long and so, he whines at you, “Anyways, I thought I was always your first call when things went wrong.”

Looking away from him, you scratch at the back of your neck awkwardly, “You are… for other things.”

Catching onto your meaning, he asks, “So, you never call me when things go wrong on dates?”

“…Correct.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not really something I thought would matter to you this much.” The truth is, you’ve been on much worse dates, dates where they actually show up but prove themselves to be some of the worst people. You always call Shoko though… that or you just brush it off.

Telling Gojo about your dating life feels weird, it’s not like he tells you about his.

His mouth downturns at your remark, “Anything that involves you matters to me.”

“It’s not like you tell me about your dating life,” you counter, starting to feel somewhat badly.

“I would, if I had one,” he leans back into his chair more, “I’m not currently dating though.”

Sheepishly, you say, “Oh…well…I am.”

“I know that now,” his eyes focus on you, “Just how many dates have you gone on recently?”

“Recently?” he nods at you, “Uhm… a few every couple of weeks, not heaps but… frequently enough that getting stood up isn’t the worst thing to happen to me lately.” You laugh slightly at a memory, “You know, on one of them, the guy actually got back with his ex during our date, like he–”

You cut yourself off when you realise Gojo isn’t experiencing the same amount of enjoyment at the recounting of your date a few weeks ago. “Why is this bugging you?”

“It’s not,” his tone is certain but the expression he’s wearing is anything but. Clearly annoyed by something.

Challenging his logic, you ask, “Do you want me to tell you about my dating life?”

He thinks on it for a second, “No.”

Tilting your head at him, “See? That’s what I thought–”

“–But I want you to call me when things go badly,” his gaze even on you, unwavering.

“You’re annoying,” you huff out a breath.

His face brightens up again, “And yet I’m still your best friend.”

You can only roll your eyes at him because he’s right, he’s completely annoying and also completely your best friend.

★

After that failed date that turned into you having dinner with Gojo, you decided you would listen to him and call him whenever a date goes south. He seemed actually bothered by the fact you weren’t relying on him more, so you decided that if something does go wrong, you’d tell him about it.

However, your dating life has been going pretty swimmingly the past couple weeks. You’ve actually found someone you wouldn’t mind being with, having gone on a few dates with him now. You’ve pretty much been exclusively seeing him, he’s taken you out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Previous dates barely made it through one meal, but this guy managed to appeal to you enough to take you out multiple times.

It’s your fault that you got your hopes up, thinking that maybe he was different but as you sit on the couch in his apartment, his assumed girlfriend yelling at him, you can see he’s just like everyone else in the dating scene these days. It’s that or you just have really bad luck when it comes to your romantic life.

For the third time, you try to leave but he holds you back, “Wait no, please don’t go, this is just a misunderstanding!”

You shrug him off you, his touch making you feel disgusting.

Going to say something in reply, but his girlfriend speaks first, “So now you’re cheating on me and trying to keep her here?”

He sputters, like he forgot she was here for a moment, “No! Babe, I’m not cheating on you!”

Awkwardly, you scratch at the back of your neck, “Listen, I’m going to be so honest, I think you’re a bad person and any interest I had in you is gone. I’d just really like to leave now.”

He’s wearing an annoyed look on his face, “How do you even expect to get home? I drove you here.”

She scoffs at him from by the door, foot tapping impatiently, “Now you’re offering her a ride home? Are you fucking serious right now?”

Walking to the front door, you shuffle around his girlfriend, “I’m just gonna… slide right past you.” Pausing after opening the door and turning back to address her, “Uhm… Just in case he tries lying to you… we went on multiple dates over the past couple weeks.” Standing awkwardly for an extra moment as her face twists in realisation, “Bye!” You rush out the door, speed walking to the elevator.

The screaming and yelling gets louder from their apartment, able to hear them until you finally get in the elevator and start heading down to the ground floor. In the lobby, you pull out your phone and sigh dejectedly, scrolling for Gojo’s contact, you need a ride home.

He picks up pretty quickly, “Hello?”

You get straight to the point, not feeling particularly great right about now, “…I need a ride home.”

“Well, good evening to you too,” he replies, voice full of mirth, “You know. people normally exchange pleasantries over the phone before immediately asking for things, I’ve been told – by you actually – that just asking for things straight up can be read as rude, so–”

“–Satoru.”

The use of his name has him going quiet, stopping his tangent instead to ask, “Where are you?”

You’re tired, your mood travelling through the phone as you answer, “Some apartment, I’ll text you the address…”

“You okay?” He checks.

You can’t help the pause before your reply, “…Yeah.”

His concern for you growing at your seeming uncertainty, “You gonna tell me what happened?”

It’s a little embarrassing, you think, but yeah, you’ll tell him about it, “Later… I just wanna go home now.”

“Alright, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up before you get to thank him.

You text him the address and then head out the front of the building, waiting for him to get you. While you’re waiting, you find yourself wondering if that girl will stay with him, you hope she doesn’t, she deserves better than him.

When Gojo pulls up, you silently slip into the passenger seat, you’re expecting him to immediately drive away but he turns and looks at you. His eyes examining you carefully, scrutinising you.

Turning your head to the side, “What?”

“Just making sure you’re okay.” His hands reach out and for a second you think he’s going to touch you, but he pulls on the seatbelt and clicks it into place for you.

You mumble out at him, dismissive, “I’m fine.”

He hums at you, in that way that tells you he doesn’t believe you even a little bit but he’s letting it go for now. Instead focusing on getting you home.

Back at your apartment, Gojo follows you all the way inside, you thought maybe he would just drop you home and leave you alone, but he’s followed you into your living room. You don’t know if you have the energy for him right now, feeling so drained. Probably feeling this way because you’re incapable of finding a decent guy to date.

Couch looking so inviting, you flop down onto it face first, mumbling out, “Gojo, will you just be my boyfriend?”

He seems taken aback by your sudden ask, choking on his own spit, coughing out a confused, “What?”

Sighing, you cryptically answer, “I don’t think I’m built for the dating scene.”

When he finishes hacking up a lung, he taps your legs, to which you hold them up so he can sit down. His hand tugging them back down once he’s sat, “What happened, sweetheart?”

Your voice is still muffled by the couch cushions, “Been seeing a guy for a couple weeks now–”

“–The same one?” Gojo cuts you off.

Humming out a, “Yes and–”

Again, he cuts you off, “–That’s pretty serious…”

I know but­–”

“–Why didn’t you tell me about him?” His tone growing slightly alarmed by the apparent seriousness of your dating life.

Becoming somewhat annoyed, you push yourself out of the cushions and sit up to face him, your legs still resting in his lap, “You said you didn’t wanna hear about my dating life.” You point an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah, but casually dating and actively seeing someone is different–” He’s not really sure if he’s making a fair point or not but sticking to it like he is.

“–Does it matter?” You’re looking at him incredulously, not sure if there is a difference.

He’s steadfast in his opinion, “Of course it matters.”

“I don’t think it should, especially since–”

“–If you’re seeing the same guy multiple times that means you were actually interested in him­–” He’s annoyed at himself for not realising you were seeing the same guy, for not asking questions, not realising how serious you were getting about one guy. So caught up in this one fact that he’s lost sight of his original purpose of being here.

“–Can you stop cutting me off!” You raise your voice at him, getting sick of how much he’s been interrupting you, “I’ve been trying to tell you that he had a girlfriend the whole time,” you purse your lips and look away from him, feeling embarrassed, “That’s why I asked you to come get me.”

“Oh…” He feels bad now.

“…Yeah, she showed up while I was there, and it was really uncomfortable, and I didn’t exactly feel safe.” You sigh, slumping, “And now I just feel really bad about dating.”

Completely serious when he suggests, “Maybe you should stop.”

“Stop dating?”

Consistent in his confirmation, “Yes.”

Meeting his gaze again, “How else am I going to meet someone?”

He rolls his eyes at your question, irritated for reasons unknown to you, “Why do you need to date someone now anyways?”

You don’t really see his point, what does he mean ‘why?’… why else do people date? “Maybe I’m lonely, maybe I seek companionship, maybe I’m like every other normal person?”

“You have me though,” you’d think he was joking if he weren’t so straight faced.

Unsure how to go about answering when it seems pretty straight forward to you, “Gojo… that’s not the same thing, we’re friends, we don’t look at each other that way.”

“Says you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’d date you in a heartbeat,” he folds his arms over his chest, “In fact, you’re the only person I want to date.”

You can’t tell if he’s teasing or not, “Get real, that’s not what I meant.”

His head tilts at you, “What did you mean then?”

“I’m talking about romantic and sexual attraction,” you’re avoiding his gaze again.

So casual in how he bluntly asks, “You think I’m not sexually attracted to you?”

His question catches you off guard slightly, “It’s not just about sexual attraction, Gojo,” you shake your head, “if that were the case, I’d just be having one night stands all the time, I want a relationship with someone…”

He nods his head like he suddenly understands, “Ah, so you think I’m not romantically interested in you?”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Disbelieving when you look at him, “Are you serious right now? We’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are friends, but I also happen to be romantically and sexually attracted to you.”

How do you even respond to a confession like that? He’s not even flustered, completely nonchalant in how he’s just told you that he’s interested in you. “I don’t think–”

“–Are you going to tell me you’re not interested in me? Even a little bit?”

“We’re friends.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” He doesn’t wait for your answer, “Because if it is, then it’s a little arbitrary, no?”

The beginning of a frown settles on your features, “What are you trying to get me to say? That I’d date you if we weren’t friends, that I’d fuck you?”

He smiles at you, “Sure, but if you would if we weren’t friends, I’m saying you should even though we are.”

Frown deepening, “You’re being serious?”

“I’m being so serious,” he leans in slightly, hand moving to your face, thumb smoothing over the crease between your brows.

Looking at his lips before catching yourself and turning your head to the side, away from his touch, away from his enticing lips.

He sighs at your reaction, “You know, I’ve been interested in you from the beginning, and maybe I’m an idiot for not saying anything but watching you seriously try dating someone else might just kill me.”

You had no idea he liked you, you’ve liked him at different points in your life too, but he always seemed so out of reach from you, and you never wanted to ruin the friendship, so you forced yourself to move on. It feels a little unfair that you’re finding out now he’s liked you the whole time, “What are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” his hand gently guides your face to look at him again, “I’m asking you to seriously try dating me.”

You’re trying to make a decision, trying to figure out how to answer him, if you should even give him a chance but the way he’s looking at you, how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips is distracting you.

Brows pulling up, voice quieter than before, “Gojo, you need to stop looking at me like that if you want an answer.”

“Like what?” He plays dumb.

“Like you really wanna kiss me,” you murmur back.

“Can’t help it…” he leans in a little bit more, “Maybe if you let me kiss you, I’ll stop.”

“Satoru,” you warn.

“Hmm?” His eyes meet yours for a moment, trying to see what you want.

He’s making you dizzy, “I can’t make a choice when you’re this close.”

Humming at you, “Why not?”

“Can’t think,” you blurt it out before really thinking about how it will come across.

He’s smiling smugly, “Then don’t.”

You don’t know who leans in first, all you know is his lips are on yours and they’re soft. Kissing you gently, trying to learn how you like to be kissed. Growing more insistent the longer you let him kiss you, the years of his need bleeding into it.

One of his hands traveling down your body, resting on your hip, the other cradling your face. He’s leaning into you more, pushing your body down into the couch, him following behind it, never parting from your lips very long.

Hand now holding himself above you, kiss growing urgent, tongue licking into your mouth, meeting yours in a way that makes your body tingle. If you thought his proximity was making you dizzy before than his kiss might have you actually passing out. Skin growing hot at how his hand on your face angles you, how he deepens the kiss effortlessly.

If Gojo were more aware of himself, of the precarious position he’s put himself in, he might be a little bit more careful with how feverish his kisses are and how needy he’s getting but when he’s finally getting to kiss you after years of not being able to, he can’t really control himself. The little control he does have, slipping when you moan into his mouth, his own moan shared in the kiss.

It's you who parts the kiss, it had to be because he certainly wasn’t going to be able to do it. If he had his way, he’d have his mouth on you until he died. In the back of his mind, he knew that kissing you would be good, but he didn’t think he’d get so lost in it. Somewhat embarrassed at himself for how aroused he’s gotten over your lips on his.

Your huffed breaths are intermingled with how close you both are to each other, Gojo hovering over you, speaking into your mouth, “Have you made a decision yet?”

You’re having trouble thinking still, especially with how his lips brush ever so slightly against yours, “I…uhmm…”

When he realises how dazed you are, two things happen. One; his ego grows about ten times bigger and two; he pulls back from you, still close enough that if you tugged on him, you could kiss him again but enough to hopefully give you room to think.

“Come on, don’t keep a guy waiting,” he’s taunting you lightly, taking joy in how hazy your eyes are as you look up at him.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Hmm? Okay what?”

Taking another moment to clear your brain fog, you answer again, “Okay, I will seriously try dating you.”

“Can’t date anyone else while you do,” he conditions.

“Okay,” agreeing easily.

He adds, “Have to seriously think about me being your boyfriend.”

Again, agreeing, “Okay.”

“Have to keep kissing me right now,” smile growing on his features.

“Ok–” frowning at him when you realise, “–Hey.”

“You don’t want to?” His hand tilts your head up by your chin, looking down into your eyes, “Because you look like you want to.”

Pouting at him, “Don’t be cruel.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” his smile evil as he continues to look down at you.

Leveling him with an even stare, you state, “I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

“Got a dirty mind, huh? All I asked for was a kiss.”

You glare at him and then try to avoid his gaze, voice smaller than before, “You don’t kiss like that’s all you want.”

His smile is crooked as he asks, “And how do I kiss?”

Feeling your skin flare at his taunting question, at how he leans in again, his mouth right over yours, “Dizzyingly.”

He breathes out an amused laugh before he’s slotting his mouth back over yours, how you described his kiss is accurate. He kisses you in such a way that you can’t think straight even if you really want to, which is why it’s probably a bad idea to keep letting him kiss you if you don’t want to sleep with him before you even get a first date.

Abruptly parting your mouth from his, gasping out, “Wait,” taking a second to catch your breath. Gojo groans softly at the loss of your lips, his forehead resting on yours waiting for you to speak.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when you don’t continue.

“You need to stop kissing me.”

“Oh?” He hums at you in thought, his lips now trailing down the side of your face, only to rest right by your ear, “And why’s that?”

His voice has goose bumps raising on your skin, “If you keep kissing me like that…” your volume gets quieter as you mumble out, “…I’ll wanna have sex with you.”

He has the fucking audacity to laugh at you, “That worked up by a few kisses, huh?” Taunting you like he isn’t the hardest he’s ever been, cock twitching at your confession.

“Shuddup.”

His words are dripping with delight, “At least we know you’re sexually attracted to me.”

He licks lightly at your ear, and you feel like you almost jump out of your skin, gasping at it. Hands reaching out to push back on his chest, “You’re a mean man, Gojo.”

“At this point…” He looks you over, unmoved by your hands, “…I think it would be meaner to deprive yourself.”

“We are not sleeping together for the first time on my couch before we even go on a date,” you’re trying to stay steadfast but he’s making it hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

“So… you’re saying I should take you to the bedroom?” When you look at him in exasperation, he smiles softly, “I’m just kidding, we won’t do anything you don’t want to, but I will point out – for the last time – that you look an awful lot like you want to.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to… I just feel like if you’re gonna make me seriously consider you then I should date you properly too,” you avoid his gaze, feeling unusually sincere.

Abruptly, he states, “It wouldn’t be our first date though.”

“What?”

He’s a little distant when he answers, having trouble concentrating on the conversation when you’re pouting your lips at him like you are, “I count a couple weeks ago as our first date.”

“When I was stood up?” You scoff, “That does not count.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t even planned.”

“No but we ate dinner together and you were dressed awful cute, I count it as a date,” smirk present on his face as he continues to hover over you.

Ignoring his compliment, you continue to try and reason, “We were still just friends then though.”

“So, we aren’t ‘just friends’ now?” He’s being a smart ass, he knows what you mean but he’s not going to let up on this, taking it as a small victory in making you think of him as more than just a friend.

You return earnestly, “I don’t wanna count it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t meant to be you on that date…” before he can get hurt over those words, you clarify, “…don’t get me wrong, I had fun and I’m glad you showed up, but it wasn’t planned to be you… when we go on our first date… I want it to be meant for you.” You’re unsure if you verbalised yourself in a way that makes sense, feeling much more nervous all of a sudden.

He’s looking at you so intently and you’re worried you’ve upset him somehow, “I know you said I need to stop kissing you, but that’s what I want more than anything right now.” He leans in closer, pausing just shy of your lips.

His words make your heart stutter, throwing caution to the wind as you close the distance between the two of you again, kissing him fully. Letting his mouth consume your ability to think critically, all too happy to fall into him.

Your control of the situation is slipping more and more away from you and so is the ability to care, not minding at all how you’re becoming more and more okay with how hot your body is starting to feel.

Hands reaching up and fisting the material of his shirt, pulling him down into you, his hips colliding with yours. Almost entirely instinctually – and somewhat purposefully – your legs wrap around his lower half. One of his hands reaches for your thigh, gripping the fattest part of it harshly.

You both moan into the kiss and he parts his mouth from yours, voice straining when he speaks, “Sweetheart, if you really don’t want to do anything more than this then you need to tell me to get off you right now.”

Looking at him through your lashes, you play coy, “But I like having you on top of me.”

A shiver runs down his spine, “You’re evil,” he grunts, fighting the urge to grind down into you.

He’s been pining after you for years and it feels like torture to be this close to you, pelvis pressed up against yours, having you so pliant and needy under him. He can feel his sanity slipping from him the longer you stay like this, and your words make it harder for him to pull away.

“Satoru–” when you say his name his hips jut into yours, making you gasp against him.

He hisses an apology through his teeth, “Sorry – fuck – sorry, what’s up?”

Deciding to be forward, “Take me to my room?”

Trying to hide the excitement from his face, he checks with you, “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you give a small nod, feeling shy.

You really do want to though, more than anything. Only initially so hesitant because this doesn’t feel like the right way to do things but then again, your whole relationship with Gojo is a little less than conventional at times.

When he determines that you’re sure of yourself, he’s off you in the blink of an eye. Quick in his movements as he pulls you up along with him. Before you can even really register that you’re off the couch, you’re thrown over his shoulder as he walks hurriedly to your room.

“Someone’s eager,” you laugh at how ridiculous he’s being.

The chuckle he returns is humourless, “You have no fucking idea.”

You’re dropped down onto your bed unceremoniously, bouncing slightly at the force of it. Your arms reach out behind you to support yourself, palms splayed against your bedspread. Gojo is already tugging his shirt off and over his head, thrown and lost to some corner of your room.

“Gojo, breathe.”

“Don’t need to breathe,” he smiles large at you, “Do need your pants off though.”

Listening to him, you shimmy your pants down your legs, mumbling to him about how bossy he is.

“You know… I’m hearing a lot of complaining but I am also seeing a whole lot of direction following,” he teases.

You grumble at him, “If you’re going to be like this the whole time then I’m changing my mind.

“Don’t lie to yourself, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone, especially not with how you’re rubbing your thighs together.” His large hands grip your thighs, “Feeling horny?”

You don’t really want to answer him honestly but denying it feels like a trap, like he’d do something to prove you wrong and the last thing you want is for him to torture you. You’re already so pitifully slick from kissing him.

Fighting with your embarrassment, you give him your best pleading face, “Mhm, really horny.”

The smugness drops from his face, hands suddenly tugging you down the bed as he drops to his knees. Mouth leaving kisses from your knees to your inner thighs, your breath catching in your lungs. Not expecting him to be so forward, though you don’t know what you were expecting if not that.

“Gojo, you don’t have to–”

“I want to,” his eyes flick to yours, “Plus, if you wanna take me, you’re gonna need the prep,” smile growing at how your eyes grow wider.

Disbelief clear in your expression, accusing, “You’re full of it.”

He’s not worried about your scepticism, “You’ll find out for yourself in a bit.” He shrugs easily, “Now, can I put my tongue on your pretty pussy, or do you have more to say?”

He asks but his attention is already completely on your covered cunt, a single finger moving under the elastic of the waist band just to snap it back against you. A small noise of shock leaving you, “Ah! Do what you want…”

Oh, he looks so excited by your words, “You mean it?”

You’ll be honest and admit you weren’t really paying attention to what you were saying, brain hazy with how close he is to your core, skin pricking at how you can feel his hot breath against you. Feeling so unusually exposed and sensitive and you can’t tell if you’re that worked up or if he just has that effect on you.

“Mhm,” you’re nodding your head at him, giving him a green light, for what, you’re not entirely sure, all you know is that you want him to do something – anything.

“These are some really cute panties…kinda bothers me,” he’s still playing with the edges of them, annoyed when remembering you were with another guy tonight. Were you going to sleep with him tonight?

Pulling yourself up onto your elbows, you question, “What?”

Eyes flicking towards yours, “I’m a bit of a jealous guy.”

“I know this,” he always has been quick to get worked up over things regarding you, though it makes a little more sense after learning he’s liked you for so long.

He smiles at you, but his eyes are humourless, “Of course you do,” he fists at the material of your panties, “But the idea of another guy getting so close to seeing you in these… has me feeling really annoyed.”

The sound of fabric tearing fills your ears, he’s just ripped your panties off you completely. There is no salvaging them, completely useless as he throws them over his shoulder.

“Hey! those were my good pair!” They were one of the nicer pairs you own.

“Who cares about that?” His tone is dismissive, hands spreading your legs obscenely, eyes greedily looking at your uncovered pussy, “Your cunt is much cuter.”

God, you feel like you might pass out, face suddenly extremely hot, “Don’t be crude.”

“Hmm? …but I think you like it though…” his thumb swipes through your folds and you gasp at him, “Got so much wetter when I said it.”

He’s quick to begin rubbing circles into your clit, thumb giving even pressure. The stimulation has your arms shaking, threatening to give out from under you. Biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s shamelessly staring at your cunt.

Continuing to speculate, he says, “That or you like being praised…” he smirks evilly, “You like being praised, sweetheart? Being told how good you’re being for me?”

Your heart leaps in your chest, brows upturning, trying to hide your outward reaction to his words, “Hah– No…”

“Such a bad liar,” eyeing your face, “Wearing a really great expression right now though.”

Fighting the urge to grind down, you deny, “Not lying.”

He ignores you, “Could be both though,” he’s continuing to ponder on what you react most to, “Which is it, sweetheart? You like how crude I am, or do you like the praise?”

You don’t plan on answering him, eyes closing harshly against his intense gaze, feeling way too exposed. His touch leaves you and you open your eyes in alarm, trying to see what he’s doing. You see his smile before he’s leaning in and licking up the length of your pussy, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

Surprised moans slip from you, arms almost giving out completely, head rolling back. His arms wrap around your legs to hold you steady, face pushing closer into you, tongue flicking at your clit before pressing into your pussy hole.

He’s relishing in your sounds, in how wet you are, how you taste and smell, almost forgetting why he did this in the first place. Pulling away from you with a lewd smack of his lips, smiling big at the whine you let out from the loss of him.

Huffing slightly as he says, “Asked a question, not licking your pussy again until you answer it.”

“I don’t know,” your head lolls forward, eyes wet.

Head moving to the side to nip lightly at your thigh, “Shall we find out then?”

You jolt at the sensation, face twisting in confusion at him.

“You don’t gotta do anything, sweetie, just stay like this,” his hands push back on your thighs though, opening you up to him even more. “Been doing so good for me, sound so pretty,” he coos at you.

Brows furrowing at his words, heart skipping beats at his sudden praise, feeling fuzzy all over.

He hums in thought, “So fucking wet for me, dripping everywhere, creamy fucking pussy.”

You twitch at the switch, wanting to crawl away from him.

“I think I’ve just realised something,” he glances up at you, “Got such nice reactions to both things I said, do you know how much wetter you got, cunt twitching and drooling for me.”

You try pulling from him, but his hold is firm, “Gojo!” You warn.

He might be enjoying this too much but learning about what gets you going is way too enticing, especially when he doesn’t have to do much to have you looking so pathetic. “Trying to run away from me,” he tsks, “But you’re fucking dripping, so reactive, so sweet.” His eyes are glazing over, working himself up.

“‘Toru!” You call for him again, you feel like you’re on fire, beyond embarrassed.

He groans at the nickname, not hearing it from you in so long, you used to always call him that. He liked it a little too much, cock leaking for you. He feels as wrecked as he looks when he looks up at you, “I think you like both,” is his conclusion.

Reaching up, he grabs at your hand and pulls it down to your cunt, his fingers guiding your own through your slick. You gasp at it, not expecting for yourself to be so soaked. Biting at your lower lip when he moves your fingers over your clit, teasing you.

Dazed when he asks, “Ever been this wet, pretty?”

You shake your head, “No… I didn’t know I…”

Fingers moving yours to your entrance, “Poor thing, didn’t know how slutty her pussy was.” Feeling the way your cunt clenches at his words, his face bright with it, “Fucking great though, in love with it,” and again, your brows raising in realisation, “Yeah… you know now, don’t you?”

“You’re making me feel embarrassed,” you pout, head dizzy.

“No, I’m making you feel so fucking horny, not my fault that you like being embarrassed and praised at the same time,” he pulls your fingers away from your core, moving them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

You remove your fingers from him, coming to rest back in the bed, feeling breathless as you look down at him. “What do you want from me?”

“Want you to admit it, want you tell me how much you like when I talk to you,” his hand tickles up the skin of your inner thigh.

“…Like it,” you mumble out.

Humming in thought, “Hmm, not good enough, don’t think I believe you.”

Repeating, louder, “I like it.”

Tilting his head at you, “You like what?”

“I like when you talk to me,” you say with more force, brows furrowed.

He pretends to be unsure of your answer, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You try again, but as his expression remains unchanging, you add, “I like when you talk to me, I like how hot and fuzzy your words make me feel, I like just the sound of your voice, makes me want to squirm. Love it even! Is that what you wanted to hear?” You huff.

“Holy fuck, yes,” if he weren’t already on his knees, he would’ve fallen to them again.

You let out a squeal at the way his mouth is already back on you, tongue pushing into your hole insistently. Fervent in his actions, clearly worked up by your words. If he were on the bed, he’d be shamelessly grinding his hips down into it, cock so fucking hard it’s aching. Pulsing so pitifully for you and if he weren’t so completely distracted by how you taste he’d throw caution to the wind and fuck into you right now.

“Gojo! Oh–” His name comes out all broken, ruined and shaky from how he laps at your cunt, drinking down all your slick.

Your elbows officially give out and you’re flopping back onto the mattress, fingers digging into the bed. Struggling to hold in all the little noises he’s pulling from you, hips trying to desperately rut into his pretty face with no luck, locked in place by his strong hold.

Gasping out at him, “M–more. Gojo – hah – more, please.”

Grunting against you, vibrations running up your spine, wanting desperately to kick your legs against the stimulation but unable to. He’s worked you up so much, so fucking desperate for release that his touch is making you crazy.

A finger presses at your hole, slipping inside easily, both his finger and tongue fucking into you. Another finger added, opening you up, scissoring them, tongue sneaking deeper inside your cunt.

He feels drunk, head heavy and brain foggy, tongue fucking you deeply. Delighting in the sounds of your sloppy pussy trying to suck him in deeper, he’s losing his mind. Tongue leaving you only for him to spit onto your cunt, thumb rubbing it into your clit, third finger added to the first two. Determined to have you ready for his cock.

“Need you to cum,” he sounds wrecked even to himself, “Before I do in my own pants – ffffuck –” Can’t help the way he curses at how you tighten around him at his words, “Must’ve been telling the truth about liking my voice, huh?” He teases, laughing breathlessly at how you react to him again.

Pressing out a simple, “S–so mean,” in response.

“You fucking like it,” eyes watching how your back arches off the mattress, “Love it even,” he reminds.

A series of moans leave you unabashedly at how he crooks his fingers just right, consistently hitting the one spot, thighs twitching at it. Stomach pulling tight and toes curling, head moving from side to side, so fucking close now.

“That’s it, sweetie,” he encourages, “Doing so good, just let go for me.”

You’re cumming suddenly, the abruptness of it shocking, like your body skipped the rest of the build up at Gojo’s words. If it didn’t feel good how he was fucking you through it, how his thumb kept rubbing at your clit, you’d feel beyond embarrassed at how you came just because he asked you to.

It’s not lost on him how quick you were to finish after he spoke, his ego big before and now fucking massive. Absolutely thrilled by how you continue to prove your responsiveness to him, if he were ever worried about you not being attracted to him, he can’t possibly remember why. Not when you’re squirming under him, tears threatening to slip from your waterline.

“Such a good direction follower,” he mocks, repeating his earlier sentiments.

His fingers keep stroking at you until your body goes limp, only jerking every now and again with your come down. Pulling them from you and parting them, looking at the way your cum connects his fingers together with white strings.

“Look at that,” his voice dripping with glee, “I was right… got such a creamy pussy,” he hums, shoving his fingers into his mouth.

He wipes his spit covered fingers on your thighs before standing, tugging off his pants and boxers before crawling up the mattress, leaning over you. Fingers skimming at your sides, pulling your shirt along with it, “Can I take this off, pretty?”

Eyes bleary when they meet his, giving a small nod, “Mhm.”

“You okay to keep going?” He checks, leaning in closer to you.

His concern makes you unreasonably happy, feeling genuinely cared for, “Yeah.”

“You sure–”

Cutting him off, “–Yes.”

Shock present on his face before smiling endearingly at you, completely smitten with you and has been for a long time now. It all feels a little surreal to him, being able to hold you, be intimate with you. Leaning in more, pressing soft kisses all over your face.

Showering you in affection as his hands continue to pull your shirt up. Only parting to pull it from you fully, thrown to some corner of your room, joining the rest of your clothes. Shuffling back so he can look at all of you, hands delicately tracing over you, like he’s memorising how you feel under his palms.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles, hands smoothing over you. He drops onto you, face pressing between your tits, breathing in your scent.

Confused as your voice calls for him gently, “‘Toru?”

“Fuck,” he nips at your skin first and then moves to get back on his knees, “Alright, spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart.”

Feeling placid from the intensity of your orgasm, you immediately listen to him and open your legs, moving them to the outside of his. Gojo feels like his heart grows in size at how quick you are to listen to him, so docile you don’t even talk back to him.

Your head cocks to the side at him, confused by his stare, “What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head at you, “You’re just really cute.”

He grabs your face, sandwiching your cheeks between his fingers, his lips leaving behind a big and sloppy kiss on yours before focusing back on your cunt. Grasping his cock and groaning at the pressure, squeezing himself to alleviate some of the need crawling desperately up his spine.

You can’t help but stare, he wasn’t full of it, he really is that big. Long and thick and looking so painfully hard, dripping precum so messily down the length of himself, dribbling down onto the bed sheets.

“It’s rude to stare,” he hisses, hand now stroking himself, clearly not even a little bit put off by your shameless staring. If anything, completely aroused by it.

Looking up into his eyes as you apologise, “‘M sorry.”

“Hah,” he huffs in amusement, “So polite all of a sudden, orgasm that good, pretty?”

“Yeah,” you nod, staring at him straight on, aiming to work him up more.

It works, “Fuck– alright,” his hips stutter into his hand and he stops fisting his cock, “‘Bout to give you an even better one,” guiding his dick to your core.

Swiping the head of himself through your folds, letting it collect the slick leaking from you. Teasing you like this for a bit, moving himself up and down before dipping into your hole, only to pull away again.

You whine at him over it, “Please.”

Smile large as he coos, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll take care of you.”

Keeping his word, he slowly presses the tip of his dick into you, hissing at the stretch, worried he didn’t give you enough prep. You bite your lip as you begin to take him in, fisting the sheets below, looking up at Gojo. His brows are upturned, and his jaw clenched, focusing so hard on being slow and careful. He pauses when you clench and flinch around him.

“I can take it,” gaze determined as you try to assure him, “You can keep going.”

“Oh, sweetie,” his hand grips at your inner thigh, squishing it under his hold, “I appreciate that,” he smiles, “I do… but you’re gonna want to pace yourself.”

You pout up at him, sulking, wanting to be full and not appreciating his probably – definitely – sound advice.

“Hah, don’t pout,” his thumb moves to your clit, “You’ll take it, know you will,” rubbing circles into it, “Cause I’m gonna make sure of it, but you gotta pace yourself.”

Under his touch, you relax again, and he pushes his hips forward, starting the slow process of opening you up on his cock. His control astounding himself right now, wanting nothing more than to fuck into you completely, feeling your pussy swallow him whole.

He’s not quite half-way yet and already pressing up against the most delicious spots inside you, with that and his consistent pressure on your clit, you’re suddenly so fucking close to cumming like this.

Reaching out to him, your hand lightly slaps at him, trying to warn, “I’m gonna – hah –”

Gojo realises when you clench down on him what you’re trying to say, the small noises you make getting louder, he almost blows his load the second he realises. Ripping himself from you suddenly, you cry out at the loss, cumming around nothing, gasping into your hand.

“Why? Why?” you’re almost incoherent as you ask him.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, trying to make up for the loss of his cock, “Would’ve cum if I hadn’t pulled out, wanna at least fuck you before I do.”

You glare at him, trying to convey how slighted you feel but he only seems to find it endearing, smiling at you over it. “I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry.”

Wasting no time, he fucks back into you, to where he was before he pulled out. Giving shallow thrusts as he keeps pressing forwards, breath stuttering at the small way he’s getting the friction he’s desperate for.

“Such a greedy cunt,” he murmurs, dick slipping deeper, “So quick to cum for me, sucking me in.”

“Gojo–” you whine at him, his words back to embarrassing you.

His voice cracks at how you refer to him, “–No, no, nono, what happened to ‘Toru?” Fucking deeper, so close to being balls deep.

“‘Toru, you’re–” cutting yourself off with a moan, he thrust the rest of the way in when you called to him, “–so deep.”

“Don’t I fucking know it,” he chuckles breathlessly, moving to press his body up against yours, craving the contact.

He’s pressed up against you completely, warm and strong, your legs loop around his waist and he slips in deeper. He groans at it, holding himself back, wanting you to adjust to all of him first. He nuzzles into your neck, leaving kisses and love bites against the sensitive skin there, relishing in the way your pussy jumps around him over such a small act.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you liked me or something,” he jokes, referencing how sensitive you are to him.

Without thinking, you admit, “I have – mmph – I’ve liked you mm–multiple times ah– at different points in – hah – our lives.”

His head snaps back as he twitches inside you, “Seriously?” When you nod, he grinds down into you, “Fuck– had me so stressed, liked you all this time and you’re telling me I could’ve had this pretty, little pussy so much sooner?”

You’re feeling a bit dazed, two orgasms deep and stretched so obscenely around him, cunt making wet noises just from the small way he’s grinding into you.

“When,” his words are hurried, when you look at him like he’s just said something in a different language, he asks again, “When have you liked me?”

“I don’t remember that, too many – hnn – different times,” you shake your head, you don’t even know if you could recount all the times you had feelings for him resurface even if you weren’t split open on his big dick.

He moans, starting to move his hips in shallow thrusts, “Enough that you – mmph – can’t remember specifics,” he groans, “Feels like a sick joke, been pining after you our – hah – whole lives.”

His mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply, sucking your tongue into his mouth, licking at you. The kiss so dizzying, you’re barely able to catch up to him before he’s talking again, “The most recent time– can you – hah – remember the most recent time you liked me?”

He’s desperate to know, wanting to know how small or big of a window he had missed. Failing to realise it doesn’t really matter all that much right now.

“Not – hah – not that long ago,” you’re almost panting now, wanting for him to move with more urgency but he’s still only thrusting into you shallowly.

“When, sweetie, tell me when, please,” his forehead pressed to yours, eyes imploring.

Struggling slightly as you press out, “B– before I started – hah – going on all those dates,” you’re trying really hard to think, “Beginning of the – hng – year?”

Smiling at you, big, happy, “Not that long ago, just gonna make you like me again.”

He’s a little annoyed that you went on so many dates right after having liked him, not completely lost on him that the two are probably connected and feeling frustrated that he hadn’t just told you about his feelings ages ago.

“Gonna charm the fuck outta you, take you to nice places, shower you in compliments, tell you how cute you are,” he’s rambling now, about your theoretical future dates, “Remind you every day how much I like you, how perfect you are, gonna make you like me again.”

“I’d like it if you moved, ‘Toru, please,” you beg, tears in the corners of your eyes from being teased.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he quips, kissing your cheek before complying.

Finally starting a pace that has you going crazy but in a different way, fast and deep, weighted thrusts that make you struggle to maintain focus. Pulling out almost completely before fucking back into you, hammering his hips into yours, lewd squelching filling the room at it.

Your whimpered moans have Gojo’s skin pricking, so turned on he feels insane, like you might kill him, “Got such a great pussy, fucking soaking wet, taking me so well, could die like this and not complain, fuck–”

Clawing at him now, at his forearms, his biceps, shoulders, back, anywhere you can reach, desperately scrabbling for purchase. “Gojo–”

“–No, I don’t know who that is,” he ignores your cry of his name.

Trying again, “‘Toru, want– I want–”

You’re not even entirely sure what you want or are asking for, but Gojo seems to know immediately. His hips moving faster, pelvis slapping into your clit every time he meets yours, cock hitting against your cervix in a way that hurts so fucking good.

Eyes rolling back in your skull with the pleasure, fat tears running down your face at it. Sex has never felt like this, is it meant to feel like this? Have you been doing it wrong? Or maybe he’s just insanely good at it, or maybe you just like him more than you were aware of.

“Feels– feels good, I–”

“Again? Fucking perfect, so perfect for me,” he sounds so excited, “Want it, want you to cum on me, cum all over my cock, fucking coat me in it.” It’s almost like he’s begging you for it.

Luckily for him, you really do like his voice, love how he talks to you and at his borderline begging, you’re cumming all over him. Cunt clenching down on him, sobbing out pitiful moans of his name as you cum. It’s coating him, just like how he asked for, creamy white ring at the base of his cock.

“Fuuck, that’s it, such a good girl,” your cunt jumps around his cock, and he laughs, “Oh? You liked that, should’ve called you a good girl sooner.”

Too dazed to fight him on his teasing, corners of your vision blurry and ears ringing, twitching pathetically under him. He doesn’t stop his thrusts, fucking into you harsher, more shallow, getting close to finishing himself.

Orgasm on the tip of his tongue, the thing that sends him over the edge is how you look up at him. Eyes fucked out and cheeks tear stained, whining out a small, “‘Toru, want it, please.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” his words are choked out, almost whining himself, balls heavy with how badly he wants to cum.

Thrusts faltering as he fucks into you the last few times, suddenly slamming his pelvis to yours, releasing all his cum inside you, painting your walls a pretty shade of white. Hips grinding into you as he finishes.

Fucked out whimpers of your name leaving him as he presses his head into the side of your neck. Biting down onto you, shocking you slightly, the pain unexpected, he lathes over it with his tongue.

He slumps down onto you, his weight too much, your hands push at him, “Too heavy.”

He hums out at you noncommittally but gets up, carefully slipping himself from you, not shy in how he stares at your pussy. At the way his cum gushes from it, the urge to fuck it all back inside you strong. He withholds though, seeing you’re clearly beyond fucked out. Next time, he promises himself.

Gone from you but not for too long, only leaving long enough to clean himself up and bring stuff back to clean you up. Wiping softly at your legs, cleaning you of his spend, “You look cute dripping with my cum,” he singsongs.

“Lewd,” you accuse, too tired to think of something more to say.

“Yeah…” he gets into bed by you, “But I’m certain you like that.”

You snuggle into his side, letting him cuddle you, “Not sleeping with you again until at least the third date.”

“I bet…” he looks down at you, lips hovering over yours, “…You’ll sleep with me after each of them.”

You go to scoff at him and deny it, but he kisses you, deep and imploring. Effectively shutting you up and as you let him kiss you how he likes, you realise, he might be right.

𝐀/𝐍: this got away from me, like it so often does, it was only meant to be a couple k of only smut but i am not normal so it turned into this! i hope you enjoyed <3 thank you for reading!

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of unheavenlyvision

[greengoblinswifey]

Crawling Back to You- Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— you overhear a conversation rafe has with his kook friends and get your payback.

warnings— angst, arguing, sub!rafe, oral(f receiving), Y/N standing on big business!

a/n— based off rafe’s conversation about sofia in s4 ep 3 I listened to Do I Wanna Know? by Artic Monkeys to get this idea <3

You were heading over to Rafe and his friends when you overheard it- him badmouthing you to them. It was casual enough, but his words cut deep.

“I’m not living with a pogue. Just ‘cause we’re together doesn’t make her my girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with arrogance.

You froze just around the corner, your breath catching in your throat. Your heart sank. Was that how he really felt about you? Was everything between you a lie?

You couldn’t listen to any more. Turning on your heel, you rushed back to his house, your mind swirling with hurt and anger. You collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Part of you wanted to scream, but instead, your body gave in to exhaustion, and you drifted off into a restless sleep.

Hours later, you woke to the feeling of lips pressing against your neck. Rafe was back, sliding into bed beside you, nuzzling your skin like nothing was wrong. You stiffened, jerking awake, your emotions still raw. Without a word, you slipped out of bed and went straight to the bathroom.

Confused, Rafe sat up. “Hey, what's wrong?” he called out, his voice heavy with irritation, but you ignored him. The hot water from the shower didn’t wash away the sting of his words. As you got dressed and headed into the kitchen to make something to eat, Rafe followed close behind, his frustration building.

“What's going on? Why are you ignoring me?” he demanded, standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he watched you move around the kitchen like he wasn’t even there.

You gritted your teeth, his words from earlier still echoing in your mind. Every second that passed without you acknowledging him only made him angrier.

“Look at me!” he snapped, stepping closer. “Say something!”

You paused, your hand tightening around the spatula, and then you spun around to face him. “Oh, so you’re not living with a pogue, huh?”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard. “What are you on about?”

“Stop bullshitting me, Rafe. I heard you,” you snapped, your voice trembling from both anger and hurt.

He stiffened. “Were you spying on me?”

That was it. You snapped. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe! Stop deflecting!” you yelled, your voice raw with emotion. “You won’t have to worry about living with this pogue anymore, since I’m not your girlfriend. I’ll make it easy for you.”

You turned, storming up the stairs toward the bedroom, your heart pounding as you began to pack your things. Rafe was hot on your heels, his voice almost desperate now.

“Wait, no, please! Don’t go,” he pleaded, his voice wavering as he reached for your arm. “I didn’t mean it. I need you, okay? I need you.”

You kept packing, refusing to look at him.

“I don’t care if you’re a pogue. That’s not what I meant! You’re… you’re everything to me. I just-” He cut himself off, his eyes glossing over, the panic clear on his face. “Please don’t leave. I’ll do anything.”

You stopped, finally turning to look at him. The sight of him, almost on the verge of tears, was something you’d never seen before. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by fear.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t just say whatever you want and expect me to stay. You made your bed, Rafe. Now you can lie in it.”

He stood there, hands clenched at his sides, begging you with his eyes.

“Please baby, I’ll do anything. You’re all I have.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable. He was rambling, his voice shaky as he begged you not to leave, but you cut him off with a cold, calm voice.

“Get on your knees.”

Rafe blinked, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What?”

“I said get on your fucking knees,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you snapped your fingers. “Are you deaf or something? Do what I said.”

Hesitantly, he sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. You stared down at him, his desperation clear in his face, his usual arrogance wiped clean.

“Now beg me to stay,” you ordered, your voice dripping with disdain. His lips parted, his face red with humiliation, but he did as you commanded. From across the room, he started to beg, pleading with you not to leave, telling you how sorry he was, how he didn’t mean anything he said.

“Crawl to me,” you demanded next, and without hesitation, he obeyed. Slowly, he crawled across the floor to where you stood, his hands gripping your legs, holding on as if you were the last thing keeping him afloat. He kept begging, his words desperate, pleading for you to stay with him, calling himself stupid, apologizing over and over again.

You laughed in his face, a cold, mocking sound, and his face turned red, embarrassment flooding his features.

“If you really want me to stay, then show me how sorry you are. Eat my pussy like you mean it,” you ordered, your voice cutting through his humiliation like a knife. “Make me cum, and maybe—maybe I’ll stay.”

His eyes widened at the command, but he didn’t hesitate. As you lay back on the bed, Rafe knelt between your legs, his lips immediately working against you, trying to show just how desperate he was to keep you there. His mouth moved with a fervor you’d never seen before, but even though it felt good, you held back, refusing to let him know just how close you were.

“Please,” he begged, his voice muffled as he continued. “Please, baby. Cum for me. I’m so sorry.”

Finally, you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your body gave in to the pleasure, and you came, his name on your lips. He looked up at you, relief washing over his face, as if he thought he had won.

“You’re gonna stay, right?” he said, his voice breathless, almost shaking. “Thank you, baby. I’ll never—”

But you cut him off with a harsh laugh, sitting up and pushing him away. “You really think that was enough?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really think I’m gonna fucking stay after what you said? That you can disrespect me behind my back and I’ll just forgive you because you ate me out?”

His face fell, the realization hitting him hard. You stood up, wiping yourself off, completely unfazed by the look of devastation in his eyes.

“I’m done, Rafe. I’m not gonna look like a fool staying with you after what you said. You think I’m gonna let you disrespect me again? Fuck your entitled, spoiled ass. My dream man would never treat me like this.”

Rafe was on his knees, tears brimming in his eyes, but you didn’t care. You were sick of him, sick of his bullshit. “Stay by yourself,” you spat, grabbing the last of your things. “Since you scrutinize pogues so much, you can live your lonely life without one because that’s what I’ll always be.”

He was still on the floor, almost in tears, as you zipped up your bag and headed for the door. Even as you walked away, he was clinging to your legs, still begging, but you ignored him. You pushed him off, and finally, he let go, left kneeling on the floor, pathetic, broken, and alone—as you walked out of his life for good.

[jilixthinker]

birthday present

💗 jisung × fem!reader × felix

word count: 2.5k

warning: threesome, poly relationship, sub!jisung, sub!felix, dom!reader, mommy kink (as usual), heavy m×m, unprotected sex (both piv and anal), oral sex (f receiving), little cock play, facesitting, creampie

a/c: happy birthday to my love, my one and only, the joy of my life. this looked like the right occasion for a bit of a jilix sandwich. enjoy!!

please consider reblogging if you like my works!

.

“Happy birthday angel.”

Jisung doesn’t even manage to close the door before being surrounded by the warm smell of apple and cinnamon. The scent lingers in the air, out of the semiclosed oven, flies all through the tiny living room to finally reach his nose.

“Did you bake for me?” he asks, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“Lix and I thought that it would be nice to let you have something before the actual present,” you smile in response, “happy birthday my love”, you repeat.

Jisung looks at you, eyes dropping to your bare thighs. “Is that my shirt?” he gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing from the movement.

“Uh, yes,” you nod, opening your arms and offering him a smirk. “Lixie’s wearing mine.”

Jisung giggles, wobbling closer to you and letting himself being wrapped into the space between your arms, abandoning his face in the crook of your neck.

“Which one?” he asks, nuzzling his nose against your collarbone and sniffing the smell of your skin mixed with the detergent you use for the laundry. It’s almost sickeningly sweet, but he loves it.

“The pink fluffy sweater, the one with a v cut,” you whisper back on his hair, your arms bringing him as closer as you can and squishing him on your chest. “He’s all dolled up for you, looks like a cute little gift. Wanna see?”

Jisung giggles again, “Is he waiting?”

“We were both waiting, baby” you breathe softly against his forehead, placing a sweet kiss on the sweaty skin.

“Didn’t want to make you wait.”

“Don’t be sorry. You just know how he can get when he’s impatient.”

You take his right hand from behind your back and you bring it over your thigh, close to the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “But I stopped him just in time. Didn’t want to unpack your present before you came.”

The innuendo isn’t lost in your tone, and Jisung grabs the plush meat of your thigh as a small sigh leaves his lips. His fingers find the fabric of your panties underneath and he cups you through the cotton.

“You’re wet” he mutters. His knuckles rub softly against your pussy, warm and damp even if the fabric is stopping him from feeling you properly.He moans quietly at the feeling.

“He was very needy,” you chuckle, pecking him on the full cheek this time, “I had to keep him from fucking the pillow” you explain while Jisung’s fingers keep brushing over your clothed folds. Your lips are sticky and hot under your panties, but the feeling of arousal is enough to keep him going. “But I’m not sure he’s not doing that right now that I left him unsupervised. Wanna check?”

His hand stutters to a stop and he nods feverishly against your shoulder. You give him another light peck on his nose and you start heading to your shared room. He follows you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind.

When you open the door, Felix is not humping the pillow as you feared. Instead, he’s waiting on the bed, soft blankets wrapped around his mid section. Your pink sweater is wrinkled and pushed up to let his nipples breathe. They’re red and a little raw from all the suckling you did to keep him waiting before.

“H-happy birthday, Sungie.” Felix’s voice is strained and weak. He probably cried a little in the few minutes you both weren’t with him.

“See, baby?” you whisper to Jisung. “Needy baby was waiting. See how pretty he looks for you, mh?”

Felix cheeks are pink and glittery, the shade of blush you used is a little too cool for his undertone, but he looks gorgeous nonetheless. His lips are glossy and plump from the lipgloss you used on him. The mascara is a little smudged around the corner of his eyes, and he looks like a sweet candy ready to be munched.

Jisung’s breathing becomes a little unsteady. “Lix, you - uh - you r-really look like a gift,” he murmurs, repeating your words from earlier.

Felix sighs and he lets the blanket fall off his body. “Mama prepped me,” he hiccups, parting his knees and planting his feet on the mattress. “Prepped me for you, she said… she said you’d want to fuck me for your b-birthday.”

Jisung’s gaze fixes on the center of Felix’s legs. His cock lays on his tummy, a thick layer of precum forming little pearls on his pubes. Knowing Felix, Jisung can bet he probably neglected it while you were stretching him open, and then rubbed the head raw with the palm of his hand just enough to make him squirmy without letting himself cum.

But the focus of his attention drops lower, when he sees a mess of lube and spit all over his puckered hole, and he imagines your slim fingers pumping the liquid inside of him, one, two, three digits at the same time, and then he was begging you to stop before he’d make a mess of himself.

“Uh - I, mama,” he writhes while turning his face to look at your eyes “can I? Can I really fuck Lixie?”

You smile softly, “Of course, baby. I prepped him real well for you. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

Jisung nods fervently and his eyes go back to Felix. “Since it’s my birthday…” he gulps, “can I have mama as well? Together with Lixie?”

Lixie moans at his words and his cock throbs against the soft line of his abs. Jisung’s glassy eyes don’t leave him for a single second.

“My baby can have everything he wants today. He’s been a good boy all year long. Isn’t it right, Lix?” you ask to your other boy.

Felix beams. “Sungie’s been a good boy,” is ready to admit, “b-best boy. He deserves both Lixie and mama.”

“That’s right” you confirm. Then your gaze finds Jisung again. “How do you want mama, baby? Want me to fuck you while you top Lixie?”

Jisung shivers again, his face is red and hot under your attention. He looks at you, eyes watery while he tries to talk you back, but words are difficult right now. He gulps, nuzzling his face back to the crook of your neck and he shakes his head.

“Wan’ mama’s pussy. Wanna eat” he slurs while his lips trace the line of your neck.

You hum and your hand travels down between his leg, cupping his cock through his jeans and bringing your other hand to caress his face as you slot your lips together. Jisung kisses are always sloppy and messy, because he likes them that way. You trace him with your tongue, forcing his lips open and licking the roof of his mouth. Jisung is already panting heavily, and you know that you have to stop teasing him, but it's hard, so hard to stop yourself when he looks so soft and pliant.

You keep running your tongue over his teeth until you hear Felix whining on the bed, feeling neglected.

“Hop on, baby. Go to Lixie” you order, pulling down his pants and underwear in one swift motion. Jisung slowly nods. You can see his cock, hard and flushed, leaking on the fabric of his sweater. You coo at him, pushing him on the mattress where Felix is waiting for him with open arms.

“Sungie,” Felix cries as Jisung flops on top of him “missed you s’ much. Happy birthday. I love you - uhhh - love you a lot.”

You chuckle at your boys’ interaction and you pull down your own panties before crawling on the bed to join them, the fresh air hitting your aching core being both a teasing and a relief.

Jisung, eyes teary and lips already shiny with spit, shifts on the mattress until he finds himself in between Felix’s parted legs. He looks up to you, asking for permission, and you smile lovingly at him, bringing one hand to his hair and scratching his scalp while he grabs his knees and scoots until his groin is pressed against Felix’s.

“Oh,” he moans, “Lixie, you’re w-wet too”.

You nod at them while your fingers keep massaging Jisung’s nape.

“He’s so tight too, baby. Kept sucking my fingers in with his greedy little hole. He’s so warm, you’d believe you’re fucking a pussy instead.”

Felix wriggles and Jisung’s tip catches his slick rim. The action makes them moan in unison.

“How d’you wanna Felix, love?” you ask, sure that neither of your boys are actually capable of making the first move.

“C-can Lixie ride me, mama?” he asks you instead of the person concerned. “So… so you can sit on my face” he adds shyly.

Your eyes soften at his request, as he looks up to you from his position. He looks wrecked already, yelping and grinding lazily against the heath of Felix’s thighs when your fist suddenly grabs his shirt and you pull him back on the mattress.

A thin layer of sweat is covering his neck, and your fingers lace around his neck to keep him steady.

“You ready baby? Excited?" you ask as Jisung’s breathes come out all shaky and fast.

He nods at your words, and you wrap your hand around his cock, starting a lazy rhythm of stroking and coaxing sweet moans from his mouth. You keep going for a minute, until you feel Felix’s chest against your back, his tiny arms wrapping around your waist.

“Can I ride him now, mama? H-hurts,” he sighs against your shirt, “wanna make Sungie feel good. And I’m so empty.”

You turn your face to kiss Felix’s pout out of his lips and you smile. “Go on, Lixie. Make our birthday boy feel how warm you are inside.”

Felix’s mouth wobbles with excitement as he returns the sweet peck on your lips before crawling back and positioning himself on top of Jisung.

“You’re gonna take us at the same time, Sungie. Is that okay?” you ask softly while you mimic Felix’s position on top of him.

“Please” Jisung moans as his hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest, “please.”

You move until your legs are on either side of his head and you feel Felix taking your boy’s poor cock on his fist to bring it to his entrance.

Jisung groans at the feeling of his engorged tip sliding against Felix’s wet ring of muscles and at the sight of your sopping cunt just in front of his mouth, still out of touch.

“Ready?” you ask to both of them. You can feel your pussy dripping on Jisung’s chin and the moans he lets out are borderline desperate.

As soon as you feel Felix pushing down on Jisung’s cock, you lower yourself on his mouth. He already has his mouth open when you sit on his face, and the sound he makes while his tip breaches into Felix’s heath vibrates on your pussy, making you clench around his lips. The warmth of his tongue is heavenly, and you feel your limbs contracting and releasing soon after. Your hands find the way towards his hair, and you grab them as his tongue lap you at the center of your core.

“Oh my god,” you hear Felix moaning behind your back. Your head turns around just enough to see him already seated on Jisung’s pelvis, his tight balls bobbing over his stomach and tiny cock begging for attention.

“Is Sungie deep, sweetheart?” you ask, acting nonchalantly, but your breathing betrays you as Jisung moans and starts to properly lick you off, his spit and your slick making a mess on his face.

“Deep, mama,” Felix sighs and attempts a faint bounce, “I feel him in my t-tummy” he hiccups as a tear rolls over his cheek.

“Sungie’s cock is good, baby, I know,” you mutter as you start rocking yourself over his tongue. “I think he deserves to cum inside, doesn’t he?”

Jisung keens against your pussy at your words, almost frantic as he sucks your clit into his mouth, letting out the most obscene moans directly on you. The vibrations hit deliciously your core, and with the tip of his nose he manage to scoot a little lower to keep your folds open, his tongue finally finding your entrance and pushing deep into you.

“Fuck, Sungie. Our good boy, best boy. Always so good to us, uh?" you moan as he starts to alternate fat licks to open mouthed kisses to your cunt.

Felix’s uh uh uh behind your back let you know that he started to fuck himself on Jisung’s cock. His little bounces make his body tremble under you.

Jisung keeps pushing his tongue into your warm walls, arousal gushing out of your pussy and covering him up to his chin. His eyes are closed and his face red for the lack of oxygen, but he’d prefer to die than to stop what he’s doing.

You let him have his way for a couple of minutes, enjoying the weight of his pussy on his mouth, and all the pretty sounds he is letting out of his lips. When you feel yourself getting too close, you pull a few strands of his hair, and Jisung detaches his wet lips from you with a loud pop, opening his eyes. When he sees your cunt pulsing out some of his spit, he whines and goes back in, sucking wetly at your core and moaning against your entrance.

“Please, mama, p-please,” he cries, “so good. Lixie’s hole’s good, cunt’s good. ‘m about to - oh” he gulps when Felix’s bounces become faster and desperate, “think ‘m about to cum.”

Your arms reach behind, gripping his hips to help him fuck deeper into Felix, but Jisung is so dazzled that he just sighs into your cunt and push himself into him messily, his pace all trembling and sloppy.

“Lixie, love” you hum at the boy, “Sungie’s cannot hold it anymore. Are you close?”

Felix nods as Jisung’s cock pushed roughly into his rim, in and out, in and out. “Close too, m-mama” he whines.

“Make yourself come, then. Sungie’s stomach will be so pretty all covered with your cum” you allow him.

Felix’s hand wraps around his pink cock as you finish talking, and he tugs at it harshly. Jisung shivers under you and his thrusts begin to falter.

“I’m close as well, baby” you whisper to him, your hips rocking over his tongue, “just suck on me a little and - ah - yes, like this. Fuck.”

Jisung’s lips close around your clit and he starts sucking with a vigor, the tip of his tongue occasionally brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and sending you electric tingles all through your spine.

Felix is the first to cum, his delicious moans filling the room as he shoots his release on Jisung’s tummy, as predicted, and on the small of your back.

The next one is Jisung, hips stiffing and cock nestled into Felix, a long cry echoing and his tongue moving frantically on you.

And then, seconds after, when Jisung laps one last time on your clit, your orgasm washes over you as well, a gush of your climax covering his blissed face.

As the three of you catch your breath, you feel Jisung giggling under you, and his laugh spreads through his body, making him wriggle.

“Best birthday present ever.”

©️jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[rninies]

✮ sleeping over - gojo satoru

synopsis: gojo satoru finally convinces you to stay over his place.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, pouty gojo, reader loves teasing him — wc: 698

notes: new fic after idk how many days yipee hey people

satoru dislikes staying at home sometimes. it’s not about how fancy his house is or even how comfortable it is. no, it’s about not having you in the house. he loves your company a lot and is always so dependent on you. he loves hugging you, kissing you, touching you — satoru loves your presence so much that he feels like he can’t live without you (it’s such an exaggeration you say to him when he says that to you).

“y/n, baby, honey,” satoru whines. he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back down onto his lap as you are about to stand up. “are you going to stay over tonight?”

“…mm, maybe next time,” you reply, and satoru groans.

“you always say next time, though.” satoru pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder. “come on. just this once. we’ve been dating for four months now! it’s gotta happen someday.” the way he tightens his grip on your waist is a silent beg for you to stay. “please?”

you sigh, finally giving in. “okay, fine.” satoru gasps, happy. “but you will be taking care of dinner tonight.”

“okay!” satoru says in excitement. “what do you want? sushi? pizza? pasta? say anything and you’ll get it!”

you stifled a laugh. “hm, you can just make anything you want. i don’t mind.”

“okay. i’ll make us some kitsune udon.” satoru says. you nod in agreement.

satoru lets go of you, allowing you to move away from him. he takes the ingredients out and starts cooking. you silently admire satoru from the couch, looking at him cutting up the ingredients, boiling the water, and waiting for the udon to finish. as soon as he finishes, he sets the two bowls down on the table, clapping his hands in satisfaction.

“dinner’s ready!” satoru exclaims. you stand up, the smell of kitsune udon filling your nose. “mm, it smells amazing, toru!”

“of course it does.” satoru smugly says. “i’m the best cook after all. the best one you’ll ever meet in the entire world.”

“pft-” you giggled. “yeah, okay whatever you say, master chef satoru.” satoru frowns, not taking the insult (as he would call it) very well. however, instead of refuting you, he sits down at the left side of the table, far from you, and starts eating quietly. “why are you sitting so far away from me?”

“no reason why.” satoru shrugs, continuing to eat his udon. “why? you got a problem with that?”

you suppress the smile from forming on your face, knowing the reason behind this. “no. just wondering why.”

satoru frowns once more, upset at the lack of reaction. he stands up and sits next to you, slamming his bowl on the table, and spilling a little bit of the soup. “i can never get to you can i?”

“nope.” you say, popping the ‘p’. “you’re just too cute when you’re mad.”

“i hate you,” satoru mumbles. “i hate you with my every soul. i regret inviting you to stay over.”

“yeah, okay,” you say, finishing your udon. “wanna watch a movie after this?”

“yes.” satoru replies immediately. you both finish your meal, satoru immediately takes your bowl to wash it. “you can go pick the movie. if you pick the same barbie movie-”

“i am definitely watching barbie: princess charm school,” you say and rush to the couch. satoru chases after you and the both of you grab the remote, fighting over it. “hey-! come on, give me the remote, toru!”

“no way! i am not watching that movie for the tenth time this week and it’s only tuesday!” satoru says. “let me watch something i’ve been wanting to watch already! come on, let’s watch horror!”

“no way!” you exclaim, pulling the remote harder. “you know how much i hate horror! you’re the one who asked me to pick the movie for tonight so you better let me watch barbie!”

satoru pulls the remote back and it actually leaves your hand, making you lose your balance. you gasp, trying to catch your balance but you fail. satoru quickly catches you and the both of you fall on the couch. unsurprisingly, you fall on top of satoru, to which he is very happy about. “hey.” he says with a smile on his face.

“don’t say anything.” you frowned, though you were in a really comfortable position. “don’t move, actually. i’m really comfortable.”

“what?” satoru laughs. “at least let me be comfortable.” he holds you gently as he moves back to the couch. “there. and since i’m a nice host, i’ll let you watch barbie.”

“really? yeay!” your eyes sparkled happily. you grab the remote and play it. “just admit you like this movie. it’s a fun one!”

“yeah, sure.” satoru’s eyes are on you, watching the pretty smile on your face widen as the introduction to the movie starts. “i do like it.”

taglist: @planetnini @xintre @kyoghurts @sad-darksoul (send an ask to be added!) <3

[moonlightspencie]

hands that make hell seem cold

Description: Friends to lovers, emphasis on lovers.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only!: porn with almost no plot, p in v, brief mention of a breeding kink

Word Count: 3.2k

link to the spotify playlist

James took a deep breath, looking around his space.

He'd been cleaning all day long. Not really for any reason other than his mates coming over later that night.

He propped his hands on his hips, scrutinizing his own work for a moment.

"Good," he mumbled softly to himself, nodding as he walked back into the kitchen.

He busied himself picking up all the towels he'd used, and set a kettle on the stove for a cup of tea when he finished. He threw the towels in a hamper in the laundry room of his flat, and went back to the kitchen, waiting mindlessly on the kettle to start whistling.

Though, that's when he heard a knock on his door. He frowned a little, not expecting anyone over for another hour or two. He shuffled over to the door, opening it to see an unexpected face.

His smile grew. "Baby!"

"Hi, angel," she smiled back at him, walking past him and into his flat.

He chuckled, shutting the door, then turning to watch her take her shoes off very impatiently. He was practically bouncing by the time she finished and turned to him.

“Okay,” she opened her arms with a laugh, letting him practically tackle her.

He squeezed her into a crushing hug, knocking her off her feet, only protecting her from falling with the intensity of the embrace.

“James,” she chuckled, voice muffled by his chest. “You’re squishing me.”

“Mm,” he hummed absentmindedly, still holding her for a moment. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she said, then kissed his shoulder once as he loosened his grip. “But you know how things are. I’ve gotta visit home sometimes. My family does like to see me on occasion, you know?”

“I know, love,” he mumbled, kissing her forehead. “But can’t they just come here instead?”

“They do on occasion. But I love being home, even if I still want to be around you more,” she winked.

James giggled, squeezing her again. “You flatter me.”

“I know. That’s kind of the point, Jamie.”

James smiled, his cheeks a little rosy as he looked at her. It had really only been a couple of weeks since she’d been around, but it felt like forever. He’d always had a soft spot for the girl, but it seemed to have intensified in the past months. Sure, they were still friends, but… there was something else there. He just didn’t want to be the first to admit it. Lately, he’d been thinking about it, though.

He sighed softly. “Uh… the boys are supposed to be over tonight.”

“Oh! Well, that’ll be fun. I’ll make sure to head out before they show up, then.” 

“What?” He furrowed his brow in question.

“I’ll… make sure I’m not interrupting–”

“You’re not!” he cut her off, shaking his head.

Her brows raised, a small chuckle leaving her lips. “You sure?”

“‘Course I am! Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, shrugging a little. “Here, let’s go sit. I wanna hear all about your trip.”

He grabbed her hand, practically dragging her behind him to the living room. She shook her head in amusement, letting him pull her along without a hint of resistance until he’d sat them both down with not a centimeter of space between them.

“How were mum and dad?”

“Good, mostly,” she replied, not batting an eye as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “Mom’s been a little under the weather, but it’s nothing she can’t handle. You held down the fort here without me, then?”

“Barely,” he feigned a pout. “Could’ve fallen apart if you were gone one more day.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed, leaning into him.

“Only ‘cause I love you.”

“Mhm,” she snorted. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Can’t help it.”

“You never can.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, then kissed her forehead again. “God, you got even prettier. What were they feeding you over there?”

“Nothing you’d like, I’m sure.”

He laughed. “Probably not. But seriously, love… wow.”

She snorted a laugh, looking at him curiously. “When did you become such a flirt?”

“Please, you love it,” he chuckled, then shot her a sideways glance. “You love it, right?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good,” he breathed out, then straightened up as a terrible whistling came from the kitchen. “Shit.”

She laughed as he shot up and hustled into the kitchen, following after him and watching as he grabbed his oven mit to take the kettle off the stovetop. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling to herself as he quickly pulled down two mugs and tea bags, preparing them both. He always put the tiniest bit too much sugar in hers, but she’d never complain to him. She accepted gratefully as he put a mug in her hand.

“There you are,” he muttered, then leaned against the counter. “Almost forgot that was on the stove.”

“Almost? James, you jumped up and practically ran in here.”

“...Shut up,” he hid a smile behind his mug, trying to take a sip before quickly moving away from the steam. “Hot.”

“Yeah, you are,” she muttered, barely thinking about it as it passed her lips.

His cheeks turned pink again. “You’re bound and determined to make me blush, aren’t you?”

“You’re cute when you blush,” she grinned, poking one of his cheeks. “You know I like to tease you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he rolled his eyes in response, but there was no malice behind it. He sighed softly, then let his eyes wander back to her. “Seriously, how did you get hotter?”

“Oh, and I’m the one trying to make you blush, huh?”

He giggled again. “Maybe we’re both guilty.”

She hid a smirk, shaking her head at him again. She glanced down at her still-steaming mug, then back at his face. His wide eyes and his lip pulled between his teeth. She had decided that it was incredibly annoying how attractive he was. 

“James?”

“Yeah, love?” he responded immediately, his eyes widening in question.

She smiled again, unable to stop herself this time. “God, you’re fucking annoying. I say that with love.”

“Annoying?”

“You’re annoyingly hot.”

He looked away, his cheeks only warming further. He set his mug on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. A move that she thought was very distracting.

“Can I ask you a question, love?” he asked after a beat.

“Of course.”

He glanced at her again. “Well… what do you think of me?”

“Huh?”

“Like… duh, we’re friends. But… like..”

“Like…?”

“Do you think we’d be, like… good together?”

She quirked a brow. “As in…?”

He groaned. “Like us. Together.”

“You mean like… together?”

“Duh.”

“I mean– Well, I haven’t… I can’t say that I’ve never thought about it,” she admitted quietly.

He sighed softly, looking at her carefully for a few moments. She looked right back, unsure what to do next after that. He wasn’t quite sure either, turning over that information in his head. She set her mug next to his on the counter, not wanting to hold it if they were going to keep standing there having that kind of conversation. He watched her as she moved closer to set her tea down, feeling a little restless as her perfume wafted up to him in a wave.

“Fuck it,” he huffed out, moving to put his hands on her cheeks, crashing his lips into hers. 

Usually, he might not be so forward. But she was so fucking tempting, it was almost a crime to not kiss her at this point. And it felt good.

She froze up at first, a bit shocked that he’d gone and kissed her. Though, it didn’t take long before she gained her senses again and kissed him back like she was born to do it. He moaned into the kiss, nipping at her lip, pulling her flush against his body with his arms wrapped around her waist.

“James…” she mumbled against him, not really for any reason other than to feel his name on her lips.

He kissed along her cheek and jaw, mumbling in her ear, “I really missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she breathed out.

He groaned, biting her neck gently before sucking on the skin. He attached himself there until he’d left a dark mark, determined to make her remember how it felt to kiss him.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages,” he muttered, kissing all the way back up her neck.

“Really?”

“Yeah…” he kissed her lips again, then pulled back to look at her face. “I think… maybe for a year, now. You’re just… you know I’ve always thought you were hot.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to fuck me,” she laughed.

“Who said I did?”

She scoffed, her mouth dropping open. “You dick!”

He giggled. “Couldn’t help it. But… I definitely do. Really bad.”

She hummed, glancing down at his lips again. “So… a year, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“When did that start?”

He smirked. “When I realized my best friend was insanely hot and I was crazy to not want more. But… Well, the day we all went to the beach and I saw you in that itty bitty bikini definitely helped.”

“You perv,” she laughed, smacking his arm lightly.

“I already love your personality, what else was I supposed to say?” he defended himself with a chuckle.

“Whatever,” she snorted, pulling him back in and kissing him, much more softly this time.

He sighed against her lips, happy to finally know what she felt like in this way. He let his mouth open for her as she slid her tongue against his bottom lip, groaning into the kiss as he felt her tongue against his. He followed her lead for a moment before taking control of the kiss, backing her against the kitchen counter.

Her lower back hit the counter, and she smiled against his lips, letting him push her onto the counter. He stood between her legs, letting his hands travel up her thighs.

“What, are you gonna fuck me in the kitchen? Not super romantic, James,” she laughed.

“Mm. I’d take you anywhere. We’ll have time for romance later,” he replied easily, kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone.

His hands slid under her shirt, feeling her stomach. “God, you’re perfect.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I mean it,” he asserted, pushing her top up and off of her, letting it drop to the floor. He took her in with a dreamy sigh. “Wow.”

She smiled. “It’s not that special.”

“Says you,” he glanced at her, scrunching up his face in distaste at her blase attitude about her body. His hands wandered over her skin, feeling her tummy, her ribs, her breasts. “You’re a damn angel, love.”

“You’re sweet.”

He hummed, tugging off his own shirt before going back to just feeling her. After a few moments, he couldn’t handle not seeing more of her. He let his hands wander again, reaching around her back to pull off that pesky bra. He let that drop onto the slowly growing pile of clothes on the ground. He reached up again, experimentally squeezing her breasts, feeling himself grow painfully hard against his jeans.

“See? This is all I could think about when you were in that stupid, gorgeous bikini of yours, love. And I was right. You’re incredible underneath it all,” he mumbled, locked in on feeling her chest. 

His mouth watered at the sight of her, topless on his kitchen counter. His pretty best friend perched up there just for him to see and feel. He started kissing down her chest, stopping at one of her nipples, his tongue swirling around the swollen bud before he sucked it gently into his mouth.

She let out a small, breathy sound as she watched him with his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure from sucking on her. He looked so pretty and desperate like that. She ran a hand up his arm, tangling her hand in his hair. 

“God, you’re eager,” she breathed out, a small laugh passing her lips.

“You’re fucking sexy’s why,” he mumbled against her skin, moving his lips to the other breast.

She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut from pleasure as he kissed and sucked at her tits, gently groping one with his hand as his mouth worked over the other. He slowly started moving his lips down, kissing along her ribs and stomach.

“You’d look real pretty pregnant, you know? I’ve thought about that a few times,” he mumbled, nipping the skin of her stomach.

“James…” she groaned.

“Sorry love. Can’t help myself,” he apologized, though they both knew he didn’t mean it. “Just wanna make you mine, ya’ know? Plus, we’d have pretty babies.”

He smiled again as another sound left her lips, his hands working to tug off her pants. He pulled them down her legs, kissing back up her leg once he’d dropped the pants on the floor.

“As much as I’d love to taste you, doll, I think that might have to wait. If I start, I won't be able to stop,” he said softly, kissing up her thigh. “You even smell perfect.”

“God, James. You’re such a slut,” she smirked a little.

“Only for you, baby,” he said, his dimple poking in his cheek as he stood straight.

He cradled her head in his hands, looking over her face for a moment before he leaned in to kiss her again, his lips moving soft and slow over hers. She held onto his biceps as he kissed her, feeling them move and flex under her palms as he dropped his hands to start pulling off her panties. He did it slowly, teasingly, until he’d pulled them off her legs entirely, letting them fall to the ground. He pulled back from the kiss, looking over her bare body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispered, eyes trailing over her. “Pretty girl. I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too, Jamie.”

He kissed her again through a grin. “You’re the best friend ever, too. For the record.”

“I better be after this,” she laughed.

He chuckled along with her, pulling his pants and boxers down in one go. She let out a small noise of satisfaction, seeing him all naked and beautiful.

“God damn, James. No wonder the girls like you so much.”

He giggled at that. “I always thought it was my personality.”

“Sure,” she teased, pulling him in for another kiss.

He groaned into it, his hands wandering up and down over her body, feeling her soft curves under his skin. He let one of his hands reach down, slowly stroking his leaky cock, stepping closer to the apex of her thighs. 

“Is this okay?” he whispered against her lips.

“Yeah. Please,” she nodded, breathing him in.

He shuddered, dragging himself along her slit before pressing at her entrance. He whined softly, barely pushing in.

“God…” he breathed out desperately, pressing his forehead against hers. He moaned softly, pulling a similar sound from her lips as he pushed into her, letting her heat envelop him. “You feel so good, love.”

“Yeah,” she groaned, her arms around his shoulders.

He pushed himself in all the way, a soft needy sound coming from him as he stilled for a moment before pulling out and repeating that motion slowly. They breathed each others’ air as James pushed his hips into hers slowly, almost teasingly, getting used to how she felt around him. He’d dreamed of fucking her a million times before, but there was nothing that could prepare him for how she really felt.

She dropped her head in his neck, feeling impossibly full. He wasn’t the biggest she’d ever seen in her life, but fuck if he didn’t feel like it. Not to mention the fact that his cock was gorgeous, and the mere thought of it dragging in and out of her had her feeling dizzy.

“Fuck, love,” he moaned, suddenly pulling her off the counter. “I need more.”

She chuckled breathily, though she whined softly as he pulled out.

“Wha–”

“Shhh…” he shook his head, spinning her around and bending her over the kitchen counter.

She let out a shuddering breath, a grin on her face as her breasts hit the cold counter, his hand pressing down on her lower back. He pushed back into her immediately with an animalistic grunt, picking up the pace immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he grit out, gripping her hips with one hand, pushing down on her back with the other. “Feel so perfect around me, baby.”

“Yes,” she moaned, her voice broken and needy as she pressed her hands against the counter, unable to do anything else.

He pounded into her, her hips hitting the edge of the counter with every thrust. Usually, he’d care much more about her safety and comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to care with the sweet sounds she made for him every time his hips snapped against her ass. 

“James,” she said, her voice whiny.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.”

“Already?” he smirked, pounding into her harder.

She merely moaned in response, her eyes fluttering shut again as he moved one of his hands around her neck. He didn’t put any pressure on her, but it forced her to arch her back more, letting him hit a slightly different angle.

“God, Jamie…” she whimpered, her body suddenly convulsing, pulsing around him without warning.

He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fucked her through it, loving the way she felt squeezing him like that. 

“Shit, baby,” he said through a gasp, his hips beginning to stutter in their movements.

He let her drop against the counter again, gripping onto her hips with both hands, pulling her back against him with every thrust. He lost himself in pleasure, pushing himself into her with vigor until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled out of her cunt, using his hand to stroke himself a few times before he was finishing on her ass, watching thick ropes of his cum cover her skin. He barely held himself upright as he watched it happen, breathing heavy from the effort until he was completely spent.

He braced himself on the counter with both hands. “Fuck, baby.”

She laughed softly through a whimper. “Y-yeah. Fuck.”

“You’re… God damn, love. You’re perfect,” he smiled to himself, catching his breath as he looked down at her body again. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this. All covered in my cum.”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, chuckling quietly. “But… maybe get me a towel? It’s starting to get cold.”

“Gross,” he snorted a laugh, moving to get a towel from one of the cabinets in the kitchen, dampening it with warm water. “Good thing we’re in the kitchen. Easy to clean up.”

“I guess,” she laughed as he wiped her clean of his seed. “Maybe next time you can just cum in me.”

He paused, his eyes widening. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” she nodded easily.

“Shit, you’re sexy,” he mumbled, finishing cleaning her off. “Okay, love. All clean.”

“Thanks,” she said, standing straight.

They looked at one another for a moment, both quite satisfied with what they’d done, before she started picking up her clothes.

“So… the boys will be here soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered, laughing a little at her switch in topic. “Yeah, they will.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe an hour.”

She nodded, pulling on her panties. “How long are they staying?”

“Until dinner time, I suppose.”

“Cool…” she nodded with feigned nonchalance.

He smiled a bit, looking at her with a raised brow. “What have you got planned?”

“With you? Everything,” she smirked.

[urhoneycombwitch]

I know what they call you.

You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you. shy!reader

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more��� introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after. 

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music. 

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm. 

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways. 

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask. 

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him. 

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return. 

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me. 

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm. 

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot. 

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house. 

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids. 

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of. 

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again. 

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty. 

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair. 

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke. 

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it. 

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code. 

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter. 

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive. 

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily. 

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending.  “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out. 

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them. 

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in. 

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it. 

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom. 

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth. 

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits. 

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring. 

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence. 

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music. 

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around. 

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows. 

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic. 

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms. 

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate. 

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart. 

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down. 

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement. 

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?” 

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard. 

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs. 

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands. 

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel. 

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves. 

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own. 

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks. 

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form. 

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours. 

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp. 

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch. 

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights. 

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown. 

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you. 

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him. 

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation. 

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam. 

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders. 

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh. 

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,” 

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips. 

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao

[steddieas-shegoes]

He’s not sure why he even comes to these parties anymore. He used to sell at the frat houses, made his rounds until he was out of product, made more money than any minimum wage job he could find near campus.

But he hasn’t in a while. Months, at this point.

It’s just that every time he came to one of these idiotic showing of riches and popularity, the most beautiful man he’d ever seen was sitting in the corner of the kitchen watching with a faraway look in his eyes. Sometimes he stood in a group of people in the living room, but never contributed to the conversation. Once, Eddie saw him swinging his feet back and forth in the water of the hot tub on the back patio with three different couples making out inside it, completely zoned out.

Eddie needs to keep an eye on him. Hence, he attends the stupid parties.

And it’s stupid, to go through so much trouble for a guy he doesn’t even know, who probably doesn’t even notice him back. It’s stupid, but Eddie’s never claimed to be very bright.

Which is probably why he walks up to the guy when he’s about two seconds from punching Tommy Hagan, grabs his wrists, and tugs.

“The fuck are you?” He asks Eddie, reasonably confused and angry at being interrupted by a stranger.

Eddie could feel his pulse against his fingers, swore he could feel a spark of electricity flow between them.

“Eddie. Just leave him. Whatever he did isn’t worth it,” he said through clenched teeth.

His fingers tightened around Steve’s wrists as he considered trying to pick him up, throw him over his shoulder, and walk out of this party entirely.

“How the hell do you know?” Steve wasn’t trying to pull away.

Eddie didn’t let himself think about that too much.

“I just know nothing Hagan does is ever worth trouble for you. C’mon,” Eddie tugged on his wrists again, and this time, it seemed to catch the guy off guard.

“Didn’t know you were into freaks, Harrington,” Tommy said as they took a few steps away from him. “If you’re gonna be gay, you could at least have taste.”

Eddie froze.

The guy, Harrington, tried to pull his wrists loose, but Eddie didn’t let him.

He turned to Tommy, the guy who almost got him arrested for selling at his party only a few months ago, and smirked.

If he was gonna out someone to a stranger, Eddie had no problem doing the same right now.

“And you just sucked my dick because you wanted to add it to your résumé?” Eddie grinned at Tommy, who quickly looked around to make sure no one else heard.

“As if I would-“ he tried to say, but Harrington cut him off.

“You forget you say shit when you’re high. You told me about it already. I think your exact words were, ‘he had the best dick I’ve ever seen, Steve.’ Or am I mixing that up with another dick?” Steve pulled one arm loose from Eddie’s grip, brushed hair from his face, and let it relax at his side.

Eddie could let go now, he was sure if anyone would start something at this point it would be Tommy. But Steve wasn’t trying to pull his other wrist loose and Eddie liked the warmth of him in his hand.

“Whatever man, just go. You don’t even wanna be here,” Tommy turned and left before Steve could respond.

Eddie finally let go, but he didn’t like the immediate sense of loss that filled his chest.

“You always interrupt strangers before they fight?” Steve asked him, hands shoved into his pockets.

Eddie really looked at him, inspected him. He only ever saw him at these parties, so the lighting was shit, but he’d noticed the dark shadows under his eyes a while ago. He noticed that he held himself in a way that showed he was always ready for a fight. Steve’s hair had gone flat over the last month or so, not nearly as voluminous or shiny as it had been at the start of the year.

“Are you okay?” He asked instead of answering the question.

“I’m fine, dude.”

Eddie shook his head. “You don’t seem okay.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Just seems like something is bothering you,” Eddie wouldn’t push more, not if Steve was actually gonna get mad. But something told him that nobody pushed Steve to talk enough.

Eddie had Wayne back home, and his friends in his band here, and a couple coworkers at the bar he worked at twice a week now that he could joke around with. Steve didn’t even seem to have the people he hung around with.

“Why does it matter to you if something is bothering me?”

That’s a fair question. Why does it matter to him?

“Maybe because I just wanted to help. That’s what people do, right?”

“Not for me, usually.”

Eddie stepped closer, barely leaving space between them. “Well, I am.”

Steve stared back at him, shoulders dropping and eyes losing that angry fire.

“Why?”

Eddie was an idiot sometimes, but he was able to read people pretty well. It’s what kept him safe for most of middle and high school, and made him friends in college.

He knew what it looked like to be lonely and depressed, and Steve had check marks next to both of those.

“You wanna get out of here?” Eddie asked, once again avoiding his question.

“And go where?”

“I’ll show you my favorite getting high spot.”

“I don’t really smoke with strangers,” Steve seemed nervous.

“You don’t have to smoke. I’m just gonna show you the place.”

He watched Steve think about it, noting the way his brows scrunched together, how he bit his bottom lip, how he looked at the ground instead of at Eddie.

“Fine. But if you murder me in the woods, my mom will have you hanged,” Steve finally said.

“Hanged? Do they even do that anymore?”

Steve giggled. “Probably not. But she’d find a way.”

“Well, I’ve got no interest in murdering you, big boy.”

The blush that filled Steve’s cheeks was stunning. A perfect pink dusting his skin, giving him a healthier glow than what he’d had for a while.

“What do you have interest in?”

Eddie could say any number of things to flirt, make his true intentions clear, maybe even go straight back to his single dorm instead of showing Steve anywhere.

But Eddie figured that’s all Steve was used to, or maybe he was always the one who had to put an effort into things.

Maybe he wasn’t used to getting treated like a human being.

“I’d like to get to know you. Parties like this aren’t really a good place to learn about someone’s favorite song or what they snack on when they wake up in the middle of the night.”

Steve seemed shocked by this answer, but his features quickly melted into a soft smile, one Eddie would want to see every single day.

“Fine. But it’s not a date,” Steve held out his hand, ready to be led.

Instead of lacing his fingers with Steve’s, or even just grabbing his hand in his palm, he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist again.

“We’ll see.”

———

On graduation day, Steve and Eddie found their way back to their spot, one they’d probably never visit again.

Eddie’s fingers were curled around Steve’s wrist as they stood facing each other, close enough to feel each other’s breaths against their lips.

Nearly two years together, nearly 300 trips to this spot, and more than 500 dates that they never called dates.

And it was just the beginning.

Eddie leaned in to press his lips to Steve’s gently, keeping it soft so they wouldn’t get carried away.

They had to meet Wayne at the Italian restaurant in less than an hour and then Steve’s mom expected them back at Steve’s apartment for a wine and dessert celebration.

They wouldn’t be properly alone like this again for at least a couple days, but they didn’t have time to do much about it right now.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered as he rested his forehead against Steve’s.

“I love you, too,” Steve said back.

He didn’t have dark shadows under his eyes anymore, spending more nights sleeping in bed with Eddie than awake at parties he didn’t want to be at. His hair had most of its shine back. He’d put on a few pounds after joining the gym again, using it as an outlet for stress instead of hiding in corners at parties where he would drink just enough to get buzzed four times a week.

He made friends with Eddie’s friends, plus some of his own when he got a part time job at the coffee shop on campus.

Steve never spoke to Tommy again, at least as far as Eddie knew. He didn’t seem interested in being his friend again, and once he told Eddie more about their “friendship”, he couldn’t really blame him.

“You ready to go see Wayne?” Steve asked him, probably more excited than even Eddie was.

Wayne and Steve bonded quickly and they’d probably spend most of the lunch talking about sports and where they would go fishing this summer.

Eddie nodded, but he pulled something from his pocket before Steve could pull away and start walking back to the car they now shared.

“What’s that?” Steve asked, pointing towards the envelope in Eddie’s hand.

“It’s a gift from me to you. Well, I guess both of us, but I really got it for you.”

He handed it to Steve, who opened it quickly.

He pulled out the paper inside and Eddie watched his eyes fly across the words written there.

“Eddie.”

“Stevie.”

“You got us a trip to Italy? How the fuck did you get us a trip to Italy?” Steve was looking at him, eyes wet with tears.

“Doesn’t matter how. Wayne gave us some money for it, so did your mom. I’ve been saving for a year. Want us to have something special before we have to start working.” Eddie kissed his forehead. “Plus I want any excuse to see you in some of those see-through linen shorts.”

Steve’s lips were on his, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist to hold him there.

“I’ll wear them every day,” he gasped as he leaned in for another kiss.

Eddie laughed. “You won’t hear any complaints from me, sugar.”

“I can’t believe you did this. All I got you was a t-shirt.”

“You know I love t-shirts. I know you love Italy. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but kissed him again.

His eyes widened. “Oh my god. Are you gonna propose in Italy?”

Eddie snorted. “Why would I answer that question?”

“Because! I have to know!”

“Why?”

“So I can make sure I have a nice outfit for pictures, dumbass.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see. You look good in everything,” Eddie kissed the top of his head before he wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist and tugged on it once. “Let’s get to Wayne before he sends a search party.”

Eddie smiled to himself as they walked to the car, Steve’s rambling about what he wanted to do in Italy keeping his mind from wandering too far. He couldn’t help thinking about the ring he had stashed away in his guitar case, though.

Italy was the perfect place to propose.

[luvs4matt]

— 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 ꨄ 𝐌.𝐒

“mm so i turned you on? got you all hot and bothered? maybe a little needy”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - dom!bestfriend!matt x sub!bratty!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - in which reader gets an attitude 4 different times that day, 1 time matt does something about it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - use of y/n, implied aftercare, slight fluff at the end, SMUT, rough sex, doggy style, cowgirl, missionary, orgasm denial, degradation, praise, begging, bratty reader, angst?, sir kink, spanking (ass and tits), fingering, punishment, nicknames (baby, baby girl, doll, sweetheart, good girl, my girl, whore), dirty talk, oral (m receiving), kissing/makeout, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, cream pie

divider by @bunnysrph

with love and stems, cherry ღღ

𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟑 𝐀𝐌

“hey” matt says as he walks around the couch to sit down next to you

you heard him but didn’t reply, you simply left your eyes on the tv “you okay kid?”

“oh my god, i’m fucking fine i just don’t want to talk!”

matt decided to not respond leaving you alone

he steals glances at you making sure you’re actually okay and not lying to him

“the fuck are you looking at” you had noticed his glances as soon as they started, you tried to not say anything but you couldn’t anymore

“sorry” he mumbles

𝟏:𝟓𝟔 𝐏𝐌

“i’m going to the store, do you need me to grab anything there for you?” he asks while walking into your bedroom

same thing as earlier, you didn’t respond

“y/nnn hello” you look up at him through your eyelashes giving “what.”

“i asked you if you needed anything from the store while i’m there” you roll your eyes as he repeats his question “and i didn’t answer you. that means no.”

“okay, my bad”

𝟔:𝟑𝟒 𝐏𝐌

“FUCK OFF” you yell from behind the door

matt had knocked on your door to ask you if you wanted to come with him, nick, chris, and a few friends to dinner

instead of listening to you he asks his question from the other side of the door

you open your door looking at him saying “i said fuck. off.” before shutting the door right in his face

matt rolls his eyes getting sick of your attitude

𝟏𝟏:𝟑𝟔 𝐏𝐌

you’re curled up in a ball on the triplets couch; nick went to sleep around an hour ago, chris joined him about half an hour later. now only leaving you and matt in the living room “wanna watch a movie” matt asks

you glare at him before going back to your phone “are you sure you’re okay?” this time you keep your eyes on your phone “yes? why wouldn’t i be?” your attitude still there “you have had a attitude all day with me, what happened?” you immediately get out of your position now sitting normally

“i haven’t had a fucking attitude matt! i just want you to leave me the hell alone, is it that hard? it is so easy too hate you sometimes”

matt is done with your attitude

he stands up walking over to you “what the fuck are y-“ you cut yourself off when he bends down gripping your jaw with his hand

“no, absolutely not, that is not what were gonna do, you will not disrespect me” he whispers “if you don’t like it then do something about it” you spit

he moves his hand down to your waist turning you over so you are now face down ass up

you’re about say something but instead gasping as a hard slap lands on your ass “fuck!” your hands grip onto the cushions “so tell me doll, why have you been bratty all day” another hard slap landing on your ass

“i- i don’t know” you stutter, another slap “nope. try again”

“i’m sorry” another slap “that’s not a reason”

“i- i was just i- in a bad mood” another slap “not good enough”

“y- you” another slap “yeah? hows that”

“um, y-your hands, the- the rings, the placement” his hands aren’t slapping your ass anymore, they are now massaging it

“and, your arms” matt wishes he could see the look on your face “what about my arms, what did you like”

jesus what is there not to like “they looked good.. really good, the shirt you were wearing accentuated them”

“mm so i turned you on? got you all hot and bothered? maybe a little needy” he chuckles as you nod your head “you want me to help with that sweetheart?”

you try and push your hips back to meet his front but fail when he uses the grip on your waist to keep you in place “please”

“y’know whats funny? just a few minutes ago you were telling me you hate me, now you’re sitting here in front of me practically begging me to touch you”

you whine at his words knowing he was right

his hands travel from your waist to the waistband of your shorts silently asking for permission “please matt” he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion

he chuckles at the sight in front of him “no panties?” his fingers making contact with your hole rubbing back and forth at a teasingly slow pace “your fucking soaked, is this all from my hands? my arms? what’s it from doll”

“everything, y- you, your arms, hands, words, e- everything, just everything” you whimper at the small movements on your core “you like how i talk too you? thats so cute” when he says his last words he plunges his two fingers inside of you

you moan at the feeling of his fingers slowly gliding in and out of you “faster” you try pushing your hips towards him but once again failed “be patient.”

you groan in annoyance “i swear to god matt if you don’t fucking-“ suddenly his movements are much faster than before

so many lewd sounds coming from behind you “shit!” you could feel the cold metal of his rings brushing against you “what were you saying baby? i didn’t hear you” he taunts

“y- you were going too slow” his fingers speed up more “yeah? this good enough for you? or you want more?” before you could respond his fingers some how went faster

you moan in response

the pad of his thumb connects with your clit, you start to let out a loud moan but he covers your mouth “shut the fuck up” he growls

his fingers glide in and out of you at a fast pace, you could feel every movement he made, every curl he made of his fingers, every vein, every inch

you were going fucking insane, but in a good way

the tips of his fingers kissed your cervix with every thrust, he would pull his fingers almost completely out of you before shoving them as deep as they could inside of you

your moans and whimpers muffled by his hand, you take his hand off of your mouth “or what? your gonna punish me?” you whine when his fingers pull completely out of you with no return

you hear the small sound of matt talking off his clothes “cat got your tongue matty?” you laugh, your laugh comes to a quick stop when his palm makes contact with your ass

“turn the hell around” you compile turn around sitting on your knees, you stare at his dick in awe taking in how big he is “what? cat got your tongue?” he mocks before shoving himself inside of your now open mouth

he doesn’t take his time with you either, he is immediately shoving your face down, your nose hitting his pubic bone

he loved the sight of you gagging around him, you never pull back from him, taking his whole 8 inches in your throat “atta girl, putting that pretty mouth to good use”

he uses his free hand to feel on your throat to find where he is, once he finds where he sits he puts slight pressure on the area “you feel me right here babygirl? feel me so deep in your throat?” you nod your head considering you weren’t able to talk

he pulls out letting you get air for a quick second before shoving himself back in your throat

your makeup is ruined, wet mascara stains all over your cheeks, spit bubbles forming around your mouth, your hair held in a makeshift ponytail

hell YOU were ruined, after a couple more minutes he pulls out again

“lay down. now.” you lay your back down onto the couch allowing matt to crawl on top of you capturing your lips in a heated kiss

he trails his lips down to your neck, sucking, and biting, giving you a few more marks before moving back up to your lips “i need you” you mumble against his lips “yeah? want my cock inside of your wet little pussy” he lines his tip up with your entrance “yes.. please” he makes one swift movement bottoming out inside you

he pulls your tank over your head before starting his fast, hard thrust, he repeatedly hits a spot inside of you that you didn’t even know existed “s- so good” you moan

he wraps his hand around your throat adding slight pressure

“you feel good?” he taunts you are barely able to even speak “yes.. so so good” he continues pounding into you at a ruthless pace, watching how your face contorts in pleasure

your tits were bouncing with every thrust, just so fucking pretty

“god i could live inside of this pretty little pussy forever” the pleasure you were receiving was a embarrassing amount

you could feel everything, he is the first and only person who can fuck you raw, because now that you know how he feels inside of you, you don’t know if you will be able to stop

“i love this pussy so fucking much.” you clench around him at his erotic words, you start to lift your hips up in attempt to flip you over so your on top

but matt put a quick stop to it by placing both of his hands down on your lower stomach, putting most of his weight on the bulge of his dick inside of you speeding up his thrust “you better stop movin girl”

“i wanna ride it” you whine “yeah? how bad you wanna ride my cock?” it took a minute for you to respond due to all of the moans leaving your mouth “so bad matt, so so bad” your words were barely even spoken, it was practically all moans coming out of your mouth

matt knew what you were saying, but why not tease you more right? “what was that sweetheart? couldn’t hear you” you were fighting to get your words out but it was so hard “i- i wanna- oh my god!”

not only does matt speed up his thrust even more but he also starts to play with your clit, removing one of the hands that was on your stomach

“i’m sorry baby, i didn’t hear you that time either, one more time” matt is very amused with the sight under him “i wanna ri- oh fuck, wanna ride your cock so so bad, matty please!”

he quickly flipped you both over so you were now on top while his back was against the back cushions, you waste no time lining him back up to your hole before sinking down on him

you immediately start bouncing on him “why couldn’t you have been a good girl like this all day, didn’t even have to help you bounce on my cock”

your mouth was in a o shape. your eyes clenched shut “you gonna be good and do whatever i tell you to babygirl?” you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you already

“y- yes sir” the lewd sounds of skin slapping mixed with your moans and matts groans are the only thing to be heard throughout the whole house “mm good, good girl”

he could feel you were close, your noises were getting higher in pitch and closer together, you were clenching him hard “don’t cum” you open your eyes in surprise from being caught off guard

“w-what” you never took matt to be the kind of guy to deny orgasms, but you also more took him to be a soft dom kind of guy “i didn’t stutter sweetheart, you know what i said”

he grips your hips harder than before now controlling your hips, pushing your hips down to meet his as be thrust up into you “my sweet.. dirty.. little whore” he whispers in your ear

you start to squeeze him harder “you wanna cum sweet girl?” his voice laced with faux sympathy and mischief “yes..” he moves his lips to suck right under your ear while whispering “well too fucking bad”

you don’t know how he was able to but he quickened his thrust once again

tears of pleasure and frustration run down your cheeks as your orgasm is dangerously close “please! ill do anything! please just let me cum please!” he could tell you were on the edge of not being able to wait so he pulls out of you completely

“no! no! no!” matt brushes his fingers through your hair as you cry harder “shh it’s okay, you said you’ll let me do whatever i want to you correct?” you mumble a ‘mhm’ into his shoulder

a harsh slap landing on your ass causing you to yelp “correct?” you had never seen any side of matt remotely close to how he is right now, you should probably be scared but you weren’t, you loved it

“yes sir!” he presses a soft sweet kiss on your neck “well i want you to turn around, face down, ass up, and do not cum until i tell you otherwise, understand?” you don’t think you had ever been turned on more in your life

“yes sir” you un-straddle him getting into the position he wanted, now facing the kitchen “you listen so well” he praises as bottoms out, towering over you with his arm wrapped around your neck

he stays still inside of you, waiting for you to get worked up and annoyed “please fuck me matty please” and he succeeded “you need it baby?” hot tears run down your face in frustration “yes..”

“then beg for it” he feels you clench around him at his demand “please.. i need it, i need you to make me cum matt, please” matt was very satisfied with your begging

“aw you do? need me to make you cum, hm?” he teases “yes, please i need it so bad” he pulls out of you almost completely before slamming back into you, a loud, broken moan erupts from your throat

he thrust into a few more times before stopping his movements “i didn’t hear a thank you” instead of matt slapping you on your ass he slapped your tits “t- thank you! please, don’t stop! ill be a good girl i promise!” he restarts his thrust in and out of you, finding the perfect rhythm

“i expect you to keep that promise” your noises continue to get louder and louder to the point nick and chris could wake up at any moment now “shut that fucking mouth”

you whine as he starts to thrust harder “i- I’m sorry, j- just feels s-so good” you stutter “yeah? as much as i love those pretty little noises of yours, we can’t have chris knowing how pretty my girl sounds”

your orgasm starts to re-appear in your stomach “m’gonna cum! please! please let me cum!” your hands grip onto the arm he had wrapped around your throat “have you been a good girl?” your tear droplets have turned into sobs at this point

“yes! i’ve been such a good girl for you! only you!” you were using all your strength to hold off your orgasm “go ahead babygirl, make this cock yours” the band in your stomach snaps, releasing all over him “thank you! thank you! thank you!”

“there you go, thats my good girl” his pace stayed the same over stimulating you

you surge forward from the over stimulation but was quickly pulled back “don’t fucking run from me” he groans “t- too much!” you were sore but you really didn’t want him to stop

he slows his movements to tease you “you want me to stop?” you shake your head vigorously “see, i knew you could take it”

you could hear every moan and groan he let out into your ear

“so tight around me, fuck” matt places his hand down on the bulge in your stomach from his cock “oh my god! matt! too much! too much!” you squeal “i’ll stop when you cum”

your sobs and moans only spur him on “i’m close matt! so so close!”

“you gonna cum with me sweetheart?” you let out a faint ‘mhm’ “come on babygirl, cum” his words quite literally send you over the edge, his orgasm follows right after you stilling his hips with a loud groan

he stays inside of you for a minute before pulling out

you plop down on your back, legs still shaking “so i’m your girl?” you ask “well do you want to be my girl” you pretend to think about it before responding “yeah, i think so”

he places a soft kiss to your lips while he picks you up off the couch “lets go get my pretty girl cleaned up”

© luvs4matt

a/n - i don’t know if i love this or hate it, but i hope all of you love it 🩷

[worldlxvlys]

I have a request, if you’re taking them

can you do a dwb!Matt where reader relapses badly, and he has to help her through her withdrawals

if not that’s totally cool, but I’m a sucker for angsts so I thought I’d ask

help you

dealer! matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, drug addiction/ withdrawals, mentions of nausea, cursing

a/n -> please read with caution !!

i love you all and my dms are always open if you need to talk <33

MATT’S POV

“i’m fine, matt” she said for what had to be the millionth time.

she smacked my hand away with her own, while she attempted to pour water into a cup with her free one.

her hands were so shaky, she could barely get any of it in the cup. she let out a frustrated sigh, setting the pitcher down onto the counter.

“here” i spoke as i poured the water for her, handing her the glass.

“you hungry?” i asked as i grabbed a paper towel, cleaning up the spill.

“no” she spoke, moving her arm to her forehead to wipe the sweat that began to accumulate.

“when’s the last time you ate something?” i asked her.

“can we turn down the heat?” she asked, continuing to wipe her sweaty skin.

“the heat isn’t on, here” i spoke as i grabbed a washcloth, soaking it in cool water. i folded the washcloth in half, guiding her to sit down on the couch.

she placed the washcloth on her forehead, laying her head back with a sigh.

“is there anything you actually want to eat?” i asked, moving back towards her refrigerator. i was aware that she didn’t have an appetite, but she hadn’t eaten all day long.

“no, matt. i just don’t want to feel like this, i wanna go back to normal” she replied. “how long is this gonna last ? i don’t think i can take much more of this”

“hey, it’s ok. i’m gonna help you through this” i spoke as i made my way back to her, a granola bar in hand.

“no, you don’t get it. i feel like i’m dying, matt. my entire body aches, the thought of food makes me nauseous, i’m covered in sweat, and i’ve never felt weaker in my life. you wanna help? let me take something, anything. please, i need it matt” she looked at me with her eyes slightly widened, clutching onto my shirt.

i’d never seen her look so helpless.

“you know i can’t do that, baby” i spoke, grabbing her hand. “i’m gonna run you a bath, ok? how hot do you want the water?” i asked her.

“a bath isn’t gonna do shit, matt. you know what i need. let me take something or leave me alone”

“i’m trying to help you-” i started, quickly being cut off, “help me? you did this to me. this is your fault. tell me, what do you think happens when you sell drugs to people? do you know how many people you’ve made just like me? you’re no saint, matt. you’re actively helping people ruin their lives”

she didn’t mean it. of course, she didn’t . she’d say anything to get her fix. but that didn’t make her words hurt any less.

she wasn’t telling me anything i hadn’t told myself before. and i hated that i let her end up like this. she was right, this was my fault.

i should’ve done a better job at protecting her, at keeping her safe. i couldn’t do anything about failing in the past, but i damn sure could prevent it from happening in the future.

“you’re right, this is my fault. but letting you erase your progress now would only end up hurting you more in the long run. the only way i can help you is by being here for you. so you can yell at me, be mad at me, be annoyed with me, i don’t care. i’m not going anywhere, okay?”

instead of saying anything she just blinked up at me, nodding her head gently.

“now, how hot do you want your bath water?”

dwb! matt masterlist

main masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[meo-on-prairie]

Deserve Better

Prompt: After a shitty breakup, involving a douchebag of an ex, who makes you realize he never loved you to begin with. You went to your best friends for comfort, but instead of telling you “you deserve better”, they show you the best you deserve. 

Word count: 1786

Tags: FLUFF, a tablespoon of Angst, hurt and comfort, Gojo and Getou being sweetest boys, satosugu established, satorugu x reader not yet, mention of: manipulation and love bombing.

Rambling: This is an extremely self-indulgence fic, heavily inspired by my shitty ex lmao. I just wanna be sandwich between Gojo and Getou to comfort my angry heart :((. This is a mini series, I wanna able to make this series to be compose of a bunch of stand-alone fics that merge together. This is my first time writing after a long while so… 

//////

“He was a pathetic liar!” you shout as soon as Suguru opens the door. Tears are streaming down your faces and you can’t seem to make them stop. The sight of your face full of anger and sorrow quite nearly broke Suguru’s heart. Oh, how he wished he could erase your pain. Not make your pain go away, no, he wanted to erase it from your life completely.

Satoru walks toward the door after hearing the loud commotion, “what did he do this time?” he said knowing exactly who was responsible for your tears. With all honesty, Satoru is only asking for your sake, if he could have it his way, violence is always the answer.

Satoru and Suguru are used to this, it’s been 2 years of this clockwork. Ever Since you start dating your pathetic boyfriend, Anthon, it been a cycle of you venting to them about your relationship problem, them telling you to break up with the fucker, and you “work it out” with the douchebag, who can only tell lies and empty promises, the next day and all is good for about 1 month. It’s the same cycle of them clearly seeing that you are being manipulated, yet unable to do anything. But then again, what can they do? They’re only your friends, nothing more even if they want to be more, and as friends, the only thing they can do is be there for you.

Anthon was your first love, your glasses were not tinted, it was dyed rose-pink. You loved him with everything you got, always there to support him mentally, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In return, he would love-bomb you with constant, nonstop, overly cheesy affectionate words. He also made a lot of promises to you: of marriage, of spoiling you, of being a better man for you, of being faithful to you; all of which are empty and meaningless in hindsight. They’re so meaningless in fact that it led you to break-up with him 2 weeks ago.

You were tired of his empty words, so you laid down your boundary, you told him you would never want to marry someone who refuses to find a job to support themselves. His answer? “Why can’t you be nicer about these things? Your words cut deep”. Anthon was a man of nothing, he had nothing but his words, and even then he couldn't even keep them. But you loved him, so you put it all aside, all his actions, all his shortcomings, his unwillingness to change for himself; you put it all aside and waited with baited breath, surely, surely…. Surely he’ll do as he said. He never did. 

“Come in first, the night is cold, I don’t want you to get sick” Suguru ushers you through the door and into their apartment. As Suguru guided you toward their living room, Satoru went into the kitchen to grab some tissues, water, and something for you to eat your feelings away. 

As soon as your body touched the soft velvet material of their couch, you crumbled into Suguru’s arms. He pulls you in closer to his body as yours shakes and heaves, you two sit like that for what feels like an eternity as you let the tears that carry your pain and sorrows fall from your eyes. Your hands balls up Suguru’s shirt as you cry in his embrace, you try to control your sob but it only makes your body shakes harder, almost hyperventilating.

“Shhhh, take your time, let it out. I’m here… we’re here… we’re not goin’ anywhere”

“He said he loves me! He said he wanted to marry me! And not even 2 weeks after our breakup, he’s getting his dick wet and telling another girl he loves her!” you choked out in anguish, still in denial that any of this is real.

“How did you find out about that?” Satoru asked, carrying a tray full of food; after hearing your sobs, he decided that a few snacks wasn’t going to cut it. 

“Because the fucker doesn’t even have the decency to keep it private, he been posting her all over his social media!” you swipe out your phone in frustration, pulling up Anthon’s account to show your two best friends the picture of your ex and the girl sitting on his lap, kissing. 

They both make a face when you show them the picture, “gross” they said in unison as Satoru places the tray on the table and sits down on your other side.

“I’m just so angry, I can’t believe I wasted 2 years loving someone who never was truthful to me! How can I be so stupid?” your tears are boiling hot, they feel like acid on your skin.

“Hey, hey, look at me, you’re not stupid for simply loving someone.” Satoru cups your face with his hands, nudging you to face him, his thumbs gently wiping away your tears. You close your eyes and feel the warmth of his hands. It’s comforting to be held so gently.

“That’s right, don’t shame yourself for being strong enough to love someone with all you got. That’s a strength, not a weakness.” Suguru agrees, pulling a couple of tissues from the box and handing it to you. 

You take the tissues from him to wipe away the tears and blow your nose, it was getting a little hard to breathe from crying, “Thank you… It just hurt realizing that even though I loved him, he never loved me; at least, I don’t think someone who loves me would go out of their way to hurt me like this. Him posting her and rubbing it in my face not even 2 weeks later makes me feel like… I just wasn't worth loving…”

“You’re right, someone that loves you wouldn’t hurt you like he did. But that doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. To us, you’re worth all the love this world has to offer…” Suguru whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder, and he means it. God, does he mean it. Satoru can see it in his partner’s eyes, the same feelings he has.

Satoru and Suguru have loved each other deeply since they were kids, but they always feel something is missing in their relationship. When you walt into their life when they were 15 through the door call “physic group project”, they thought something was wrong with them. They still very clearly love each other, their love is still burning, but their hearts forget how to beat when you smile at them.

How can they not fall for you? You’re kind, so kind you would push aside your shyness and discomfort to help those that need it. You’re intelligent, you quite literally carried them through that physics group project. And dear god, the way you just fit perfectly into their dynamic makes them realize very quickly that they desperately want you to be a part of their life. So desperately, they couldn’t bring themselves to tell you about their feelings in fear of scaring you away from them forever.

“Tell you what? Let’s watch some true crime documentary that you like so much since you’re secretly a sociopath, maybe they’ll give you the inspiration of what to do for revenge?” Satoru said with a smirk.

“If inspiration striked you, we’ll be your executioners.” Suguru added, smiling in relief seeing that you're feeling better after letting it all out. You let out a small giggle and nod. 

Satoru turns on the TV and searches for “Unsolved” while Suguru goes to grab the three of you a blanket. When Suguru comes back with the blanket, you get comfortable cuddling between the two of them on the couch. Between Satoru’s jokes about how if he was the detective case wouldn’t have gone cold, and Suguru’s soft chuckles of ‘sure babe’ at his boyfriend’s comment,you start to feel a lot better. 

You have always felt the most at home with them. It felt natural to be with them, Satoru’s humor brings laughter into your day, Suguru’s gentleness makes you feel safe. They ground you. You’re starting to wonder why you were even with the dirtbag when you have best friends who show you how you should be treated. But before you can think more on that, drowsiness takes over you.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. With how hard you were crying and the emotional turmoil you experienced, it would be more surprising if you stayed awake. Satoru looks over to the sight of your sleeping face. He squeezed Suguru’s hand he been holding behind you on the headrest of the couch.

Suguru looks over at Satoru and notices where his gaze was directed at. “I don’t want to see her like that again. She deserves all the sunshines life has got to offer, not heartbreak” Satoru whispered softly. 

“Do… you think⸻” Suguru started

“Yeah.” 

It’s a silent agreement between them. They’re done with watching you on the sideline. They’re done with seeing you in pain. They don’t want to be afraid of losing you anymore if it means they have to leave your happiness in the hands of some other dudes that’s not them. In the hands of someone that doesn’t know how to cherish it like they do. 

Suguru gives Satoru’s hand 3 long squeezes, I love you. A soft and silent affection flows between them. You always joke that they’re each other's twin flames due to how they seem to be sharing the same soul; their ideology, way of thinking, even how they feel. They’re so similar despite different personalities it’s uncanny. But they think that if they’re each other’s twin flame, then you would be their soulmate. 

They let go of each other's hands so Satoru can carry you into their guest’s room. Well, they call it that but the color and decorations they have in it are all catered to your liking, plus no one beside you ever stays the night anyway. 

Suguru opens the door to the room for Satoru. They laid you down and tucked you in. 

Suguru went into the bathroom to get a damp face towel. He softly wipes away your streaks of tears so you can sleep comfortably without feeling the stickiness from your tears. 

They closed the door as quietly as possible so they don’t wake you, not before glancing at you one last time. 

Looking at each other, eyes full of love and determination, they silently vow to each other. They’re going to make you fall, sweep you right off your feet. They’ll treat you like you’re their most prized treasure. You’ll fall for them so hard, you’ll forget you’ve ever loved anyone but them.

[uch3na]

𝙛𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙙

| pairing - jann mardenborough x afab reader

| warnings - smut, cursing, jann taking out his anger on you??? mdom, blowjob, doggy, creampie (wrap it b4 u tap it chat), a bit of a make out sesh before the actual smut, slight aftercare

| synopsis - jann comes home after losing a race, and you make him feel better

| a/n - yo this cut is insane… shoutout to my barber dawg. anotha 1 for @ludicdoll xx. (i was thinking of this song the whole time while writing)

you were sitting on you and jann’s shared bed in a (his) t-shirt and some underwear reading when he suddenly walked stormed into the house. you could hear the door slam and his keys hit the coffee table by the TV.

when he walks into the bedroom he instantly walks over to the bottom of the bed and takes off his shoes. once they’re off he stands back up to leave to go to the bathroom. you immediately know why he’s mad; he had a race earlier today. you sadly couldn’t made it due to work but could have watched it on the TV, and you ended up watching him lose. but he wouldn’t get mad at that.

would he?

“jann?” you call out to him from the room. you slowly climb out of the bed and walk up to the closed bathroom door. you can hear the sink water running but jann is still silent. when you reach to open the bathroom door you freeze a bit at first. you think you should just leave him alone, but you just wanna make sure that he’s okay.

you open the door to find him drying off his face with a towel. when he looks up into the mirror his eyes are boring into yours. “wanna talk about what happened at the race?” you finally speak out after a few moments of stillness.

you swear you see his eyes go wide just the slightest bit. he turns around and you think he’s gonna finally talk to you but he just brushes right past.

you follow him out of the bathroom into the living room. when you get close enough you reach out to grab his arm. he turns around pretty quickly but not enough to make you flinch. when he finally looks at you, you walk up closer to him, causing him to look down at you with those eyes.

the hand that is on his arm moves to his hand instead, rubbing circles on the back of it with your thumb. “tell me about what happened today.” you say while reaching up to grab his one hand with the both of yours.

jann brings his hand up to pinch his nose bridge and let out a sigh that leads into a groan.

“it’s stupid.” he says, a slight annoyance in his voice. you freeze again. shit. is that why he’s mad? he notices how you don’t say anything, and how your eyebrows furrow slightly. he also notices how your thumb stops moving on his hand. he lets out another sigh as he removes his hand from the bridge of his nose and uses it to move your hair out of your face. “i-it’s nothing, really… it’s not that important.”

you remove your hand from his when he utters those last few words. what does he mean ‘not that important’? does he not think i care about his races?

“‘not that important’ jann? what the fuck do you mean it’s not that important?” you speak out quickly.

he chuckles lightly and looks down at the floor with a shitty smirk on his face. “what else would i mean? it’s a dumb reason to be mad about. the whole crew agreed it was.” he says while reaching up to rub his eyes. he obviously is stressed from the race and just wants to relieve himself.

you reach up to his face with one of your hands and cup his cheek. he leans into your hand and takes one of his hands and puts it on top of yours. and then you guys just sat there. you loved little moments like these. where he used you to calm down, like you knew you were his safe place. your hand moves a little more towards the back of his head, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck to calm him down some more.

but then he lets out a deep exhale and when he opens his eyes he says; “i need you so bad…”

his words catch you a bit off guard but you almost immediately pull him down by the back of his neck to connect your lips with his. he lets out a soft moan of relief when he finally feels the plush of your soft lips against his. his hands go down to your hips almost instinctively to grab at your hips with his large hands. he pulls you into him, to make sure you feel his dick getting harder against your stomach.

jann slowly slips his tongue into your mouth and uses one of his hands to reach behind your head and grip your hair into a ponytail. he tilted your head back to be able to have access to your neck and jawline, leaving little kisses and licks on the skin.

he was sucking tiny hickeys into your neck, then soothing the bruises with his tongue right after.

your soft moans and whimpers at the pleasure cause him to twitch in his pants. jann was never really the type to just grab at you like that but he was just so fucking pent up right now. plus he knew if you didn’t like it, you would have made him stop by now. when he pulled away to take off his jacket you let out a whine from the loss of contact, but less than 5 seconds later his mouth was back on yours.

soon enough he carried you to the bed and sat you on his lap, groping your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. when you pulled away from his lips you could see a look of confusion mixed with lust on his face. but as soon as he saw you climbing off his lap onto your knees in front of him, his confusion turned into a more relaxed expression.

when you got to his pants you could already tell he was painfully hard just by looking at the tent in his pants. you cupped his clothed dick in your hand, rubbing it to give him a bit of relief but soon enough he got impatient. jann grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. “cmon… enough w the teasing. be good f’me baby.”

its almost like a trance. right after he utters those words, your fingers nimbly began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly. when you pull his pants down you can see a stain of precum on his underwear. you put your hand in his boxers, causing him to hiss out suddenly from the way your hand felt around him. god. he felt like he was gonna come undone already.

you look up at him with full eye contact as you slowly pull his hard cock out of his underwear fully. his eyes are low and his mouth is slightly parted, tiny groans escaping him. when you take him into your mouth he chokes out a moan and instantly reaches up to grab your hair in a fist. jann got lost in a daze watching you suck him off. he always thought you looked so pretty with your lips around his dick.

soon enough, he started to pant out and his groans began to get louder as you bobbed your head up and down on him. then all of a sudden he lifted your head up — grabbing you by the chin to bring you into a kiss. you two were sloppily eating at each others faces. almost like starved animals.

you were already soaked from everything that was happening so when jann pulled you into arms again just to flip you onto your hands and knees he could see the wet patch that stained your panties. “so fuckin’ wet… so damn greedy — just want me to fill this pretty pussy don’t you?” he leans down behind you to whisper in your ear.

jann reaches down between the both of you to pull your underwear to the side, revealing your sopping wet cunt to him. he then fisted his cock, stroking it a few times before lining himself up with your slick entrance. when he begins to push in inch by inch you swear you begin to tear up with how big and thick he is.

he was fully nestled inside of your warmth when he reached up to grab a fistful of your hair and setting his pace. jann’s hips started smacking against the plush of your ass with each thrust.

“jann… ple—ase,“ you whimper out.

“sh- shh sweetheart… don’t talk just lemme hear those little noises you make.” he said as he picked up the pace of each thrust. he was going fast and deep. he moved his hand from your hair and used it to grab your face, thick fingers digging into your soft cheeks.

he started peppering tiny, cute kisses across your face. he was doing such a sweet thing while breaking you.

when jann looked down between the both of you, he swore he was in heaven. he could see where he was sliding in and out of you perfectly and the white ring you left around his pretty cock. it was like a mark you left on him to show that he was yours and you were his.

you could feel his pattern faltering as his hips began to stutter. his groans turned into moans and they went higher in pitch each time your hips smacked back onto his. he leaned down to plant kisses along the small of your back as your voice began to crack from how loud you’ve been. “oh- oh fuck — im gonna cu-“ is all you hear before you can feel jann spill into you.

soon enough after, you let out a loud whine as you feel yourself cum on his cock.

the room smells like sex and the air is hot and heavy. the only thing you can hear is the sound of both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. when jann pulls out of your warmth, he hisses sharply though his teeth. he was still kissing from your neck to your jawline all the way down to your lower back.

a little while later, jann had cleaned the both of you up and gotten some new clothes for you to wear to bed. you were on top of him with your face buried in his neck while his hands were tangled in your hair. every so often he would lean down to plant a kiss onto your lips or cheek. his large hand went underneath your (his) shirt to trace small shapes on your back.

“was i too much?” he finally says to break the silence.

you stirred a bit in the position you were in but he could feel you shake your head ‘no.’ jann lets out a dry laugh at the way you responded to him. he reaches up with his free hand to grab your chin and gives you a sensual kiss on the lips.

“thank you for helping me love…”

[cultofdixon]

Secrets kept for another’s safety, until you lose it

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Some Saviors just can’t let go and go for what’s important to Daryl Dixon. But little did he know about more than losing his partner. • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Injuries / Anxiety Attacks / Blood loss

Requested by: Anon

Just because the Saviors War is over, doesn’t mean it’s completely dealt with. People have their vendettas and everyone will forever be scarred by the actions of Negan, apart of the Saviors or not.

When Negan was taken to prison instead of hell, the group decided that it would be best to have shifts of their people to watch The Sanctuary until they’ve fixed everything. Or until they put someone in there for a more permanent position.

After a month in and it was Daryl and Y/N’s turn to watch the place. Both having their own imprisonment to the place because of Negan. So they weren’t all too happy to be back. But the night gave them time to themselves.

Which led them on the roof this night…

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Daryl asks, putting the joint back to his lips watching Y/N finish putting up the last of their clothes on the clothesline. “You haven’t talked in a bit”

“Am I really that talkative?” She laughs softly, tossing the extra pins in the empty laundry basket. “I’m just enjoying the night with my husband. What else more could I ask for?”

“Could go dark on yea and say for Negan to be dead”

“Well you’re not the only one wanting that” Y/N sat on the stool while Daryl laid on a mattress they had brought up there. Neither of them want to live inside the walls anymore. “Can we just think toward the future?”

“We can” Daryl pushed himself to sit up, offering the joint to her as she shook her head. He stared a bit confused before shrugging it off. “Again, sunshine…what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

Y/N fell silent once more before looking out toward the woods trying to find a good start to what she wants to talk about.

“You remember when you first held Judith?”

“Lil’ Ass kicker, yeah?”

“Do you remember what you told me afterward? When you handed her off to Hershel?”

The confused look on his face gave her answer.

“You said I don’t think I’d be cut out for this if I were Rick.”

“Why are yea bringing that up now? Are you—-“

“No!…No…” Y/N visibly slumped. “It’s just. The threat is gone. We have a home that is ours. Walls to protect us from the dead…we could. Do it. Have a child. Have that future…”

Give Daryl some credit when he has thought about this before. Having a child with his wife…all of their love put into a single human being. But all the anxieties that came with that thought flooded his mind.

“I don’t wanna lose you like Rick lost Lori” For something that happened years ago, it still haunted him. Especially with the scares they’ve had before a true moment of peace came.

“Daryl…that…that was going to happen to Lori regardless…she had a c-section with Carl, any baby after that was bound to come out the same way. This would be a first for me. We could prevent the possibility of needing a c-section”

“But there’s still a chance. I…” Daryl stopped himself to avoid her eyes and hang his head not ever wanting to think about that possibility. But then again…what was he going to do? “I just can’t” he whispers which led Y/N to bring herself to his level and coax his gaze back onto her. “I can’t lose you…I…I’ve lost enough and everything about how I’d be a terrible father aside I won’t be able to raise our child alone if I lost you…I will always need you”

As much as it broke Y/N’s heart to know his feelings and to have to push aside hers because the last thing she would want is to lose or hurt her husband…the tears fell from her eyes as she presses her forehead against his.

“Okay. Okay…You won’t lose me. Ever. I’m here…just me” Y/N brought her arms around his shoulders bringing her face into the crook of his neck as Daryl wrapped his arms tightly around her holding her close.

The things you do for love will always be something…that will always be changing

About four months later…

Y/N finally emerges from the basement living she and Daryl live in under the Grimes’s residence. She gave a smile to Michonne who said “good morning” in her arrival watching her friend join her and Judith at the kitchen island.

“Think you can handle breakfast?”

“Yes, I think I finally got over that ill spell” Y/N took a seat at one of the barstools smiling to Judith beside her before drawing her attention to the quick footsteps making their descend down the stairs.

“Hey! You’re up here, how yea feeling? Yknow Daryl—-“

“Has been having you ask every day since I came back from the Sanctuary not feeling well. I’m doing okay. Better than before”

“Great to hear that, I’ll tell Daryl in person when I make my rounds to the other communities” Rick smiles approaching Judith who was happy to see her dad. “First thing, take this little one to the teacher to watch her while we’re all out”

Michonne gave Y/N a confused look as she tiredly turned to her lifting her head from her hand.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry. So I don’t feel entirely useless”

“You’re allowed to take it easy” Michonne was stern with her words which brought the confusion out of Rick’s expression while he picked up Judith heading toward the door.

“I think I’ll be fine” Y/N shot a stern look at her friend as Michonne instantly waited for the front door to close, ultimately for Rick to leave. “The baby will be fine”

“Y/N, when are you going to tell Daryl so this doesn’t have been a secret between you and I? You’ve mentioned about a conversation you had with him that doesn’t quite add up to the fact that you didn’t——“

“He doesn’t want to have a baby.” Y/N frowns forming fists as she had the habit of digging her nails into her flesh to avoid the crying. “He doesn’t want to have a baby with him and I promised I wouldn’t. But I still got knocked up. Now he’s going to lose me or I’m going to lose him” the tears came anyway as the frustration was obvious in the discomfort in her face which led Michonne to maneuver around the island to bring herself beside her friend letting her rest her head on her shoulder as her arms caged her. “All I wanted was a family with the man that I love but the factors of being good enough or dying unexpectedly just floods that man’s mind and hell I can’t blame him for any of it. But now I’m plagued with it while I carry his child”

The two didn’t hear the click of the door finally closing. All that mattered was Michonne comforting her friend until it was time for the day to get started.

“I’ll be helping Gabriel rebuild his chapel with a few Saviors we have taken in for rehabilitation to show they can do something good. We are thinking of making it also the leading to the farm” Michonne stated as she walked Y/N to the pantry. “So I will be around if you need me. I’ll also keep an eye on the saviors. I know what some of them have been saying but we haven’t come across one angry with Rick or Daryl or literally any one of us”

“Are you really trying to say you’re watching out for my safety when I’m gonna be confined to a chair and a notepad for the most part”

“Yes, yes I am. Plus…the infirmary is right next door and I know Siddiq is doing his inventory and preparing shipment of medical supplies we’ve found on the runs we had recently.”

“Michonne”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling” Y/N laughs opening the door to let herself in. “I’ll holler if I need anything” she says halfway inside when Michonne quickly reminded her about the no heavy lifting which got a scoff out of the woman.

About an hour or two has passed and Y/N groans out of boredom while sitting on the stool in the pantry. She stared out the window watching people walk passed or the few groups carrying wood and metal around for the walls and new buildings. Inventory was done, restock of what they have was done, and she was about to get started on the shipment for the Kingdom when she heard the door open.

“Michonne I really don’t need you watching—-“ Y/N stopped speaking when she watched the unfamiliar man step in quietly, assessing the environment. “Uhm. Can I help you with anything?”

“I was told by that scary priest that we hold the extra building supplies in here on occasion when the shed ain’t organized” He stepped around the pantry looking for himself before looking at Y/N as she couldn’t shake this familiar feeling. “You’ve got nails? Maybe a better hammer than this shit?” The hammer she didn’t notice before only confused her on where he pulled it out from. But asides from that, Y/N got off the chair and went to grab such for him.

“How’s the construction going?”

“It’s going. That Rick guy has us doing a lot just has his woman bossing us around” He scoffs looking at the jarred goods they have while Y/N knelt down to carefully go through a box for a smaller box of nails. “How can you even do what Rick asks y’all to do?”

“Have you even met Rick? He does the right thing, most of the time” Keeping Negan alive was the wrong one.

As Y/N rose to her feet with the box of nails she watched the man pull off the Polaroids that were stuck to the window. Just for a better look but it made her uneasy thinking he was going to get rid of them.

“Family?” He questions lifting up the ones with Glenn and Maggie, watching Y/N nod as he fixated on one with her and Daryl before putting them back. “Find’em?”

“Yeah, here” She handed off the box hearing him thank her before stepping out. But before she could even straighten out the pictures and take a seat, Y/N didn’t hear the door close entirely.

It didn’t take long for what to happen, happen.

The second she rounded the corner…Y/N flinched slightly being up close to the man without a name. She looked down to find a few nails shoved deep into her side. The shock made the pain not come right away and she was still experiencing it while he drove them to the point he couldn’t.

“You are just as dumb as you were back when you were his wife.” He glares into the deep pits of her soul as Y/N lifted her head from watching the blood spill from her side. Her mind racing to one thing. “Rick shoulda killed him. Your bitch dog of a man shoulda killed him. Maybe even the sword lady. Anybody. Then you all would’ve been seen as stronger instead of weak ass beings.”

“I-…I—-“ Y/N felt the tears spill and he grabbed her face to make her force eye contact.

“Let me take you away from everybody and I’ll watch them suffer” then the man quickly removed his hand when he heard voices outside. He pushed her aside but the blood loss led it to be a bit more dramatic as she fell to her knees.

As he made his escape through the back, Y/N slumped against the wall hesitant to touch her side. But they weren’t in prime condition, they could have some traces of rust and she can’t afford an infection if she wants any chance of that surviving.

A few were hard to pull out and one was embedded deep that Y/N contemplated letting it stay in but she was already this far.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

Baby.

…

Daryl… Y/N sobbed as she used her knife to cut into her to pull out the last nail that was embedded deep. She had to stop the bleeding so she could go get help and knew she had towels in the other room out of the foyer. But the blood loss was too much that when her weak body crawled about halfway there, it gave out.

“Daryl”

“I know this shithole sucks but yea said you’d be here earlier” Daryl clearly was in a mood while working on his bike, and with Rick only crossing his arms with an annoyed expression after his words. He knew he shouldn’t have expressed all of that. “Sorry. I’m frustrated.”

“Did something happen?”

“No…” Daryl frowns fiddling with a tool in hand. “Y/N hasn’t radio’d me today. Michonne was gonna give hers to my girl so I can check up on her but nothin’”

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for that. Plus I’ve got uh…an update of my own regarding your wife” Now he had to be careful. He did hear everything in the kitchen that morning but Rick isn’t the best at de-escalating the situation.

But it felt like fate for him to be interrupted by his radio in that exact moment.

“Rick—-Are you with Daryl?”

“Gabriel? Yes, why?”

“Michonne—-Hilltop” his end was cutting out and the urgency only stressed the retired sheriff and huntsman. “Bleeding—-Stopped—-Other reasons—-Y/N”

“Gabriel. Who’s injured?!” Rick shouts annoyed as the silence grew for a moment.

“Y/N was found bleeding—-Attacked—-Go to Hilltop”

“Load up. Forget the bike” Rick stated even though the second Daryl heard it was confirmed to be Y/N, he went right into the driver’s seat of Rick’s truck. Rick quickly got in the passengers and didn’t wait another minute to tell Daryl.

The accident happened a few hours ago before Gabriel radio’d Rick. He only comm’d him as per request from Michonne to update him and to get Daryl on their current actions of getting Y/N to the Hilltop. For their ultrasound machine. The one from the Sanctuary got moved to the Kingdom to be repaired by a retired technician.

Y/N sat up in bed in the medical trailer not liking the feeling of the IV in her arm and the antibiotics Siddiq had her on. Made the sick feeling return and the nausea meds never worked on her.

“Daryl is on his way” Michonne frowns sitting in the chair beside her as Maggie sat at the edge of the bed with her hand rested on her calf. Both being protective of her in her current state.

“I didn’t get a name of the guy…”

“Hun we don’t have to do that now” Maggie assured her. “Aaron and Rosita are looking for the guy back home with the description you gave before they moved you here. We don’t have to talk about it at all and focus on you staying alive and healthy”

The tears returned as Y/N pulled her hand away so she could hide her face in them. As she sobbed she didn’t hear the sound outside of 1. The car stopping in front of the trailer. 2. Daryl shouting at a few people. And 3. The sound of a Hilltop resident screaming after Daryl shoved them out of his way to get inside the trailer. The second the door opened and his worry expelled from him, Michonne and Maggie got up from their spots moving so he could get close to his wife.

Michonne motioned for Maggie to leave with her as she instantly went to Rick to talk about the guy that attacked Y/N.

Daryl instantly wrapped his arms around her feeling her grab fists full of his vest, making him want to squeeze her but he instantly pulled away when she winced. He started to check her person himself even if Siddiq does a great job with his assessment after dealing with the main problem. He even checked her bandages watching the discomfort grow on her face along with a few tears still falling.

“Are you okay? What did that bastard do to yea? Is the peanut okay?”

“What?”

“Is the baby okay?” Daryl’s voice cracked when asking that question as it only made Y/N cry even more giving him mixed signals.

Someone told him she thought and as much as that brought relief, it brought a lot of regret and pain that she didn’t tell him herself.

As she pulls from his touch, Daryl watches her reach for the table beside the bed grabbing a piece of paper before returning and giving it to him. He carefully took it into his hands looking at the picture of the peanut that was very much still there. He exhales relieved, feeling his own tears spill and the softness of her hands gently wipe them away.

“I’m sorry—-“

“No.” Daryl cut her off setting the photo in her lap so he could take her hands into his. “I…I shouldn’t have said what I said months ago…I didn’t want to push you away ever if this were to happen. Cuz let’s be honest with ourselves, we fuck like bunnies. It was bound to happen” he broke out in a smile listening to Y/N laugh to his words. He planted a kiss on her cheek as she kept that smile of hers. “We…we can die to anythin’ and that shouldn’t stop us from living.”

“Daryl…”

“Let’s go home, sunshine. Let me protect the both of yea”

Daryl helped Y/N get in the car before approaching the small group that was fixated on the woman.

“There’s a lead”

“You know I’m not gonna hesitate to kill that guy” Daryl stated and instead of receiving the usual Rick talk about no need to go far he was genuinely confused. “What”

“I’m going to help you get the son of a bitch. He does want to take us out because of Negan”

“You’re willing to be bait?”

“If Rick gets hurt, your ass is next” Michonne threats with a smile before joining Y/N in the car giving them a bit more time to discuss then joining their partners.

The day progresses into the night and Daryl found the right moment to slip away from his spot beside his wife so he could leave the house to take care of business.

As the man climbs over the wall after hiding out until night, he stumbled on his landing and when he straightened up he was face to face with Rick.

“Seriously. Just let me go”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen”

“Like you of all people will pull the trigger” He scoffs, making the mistake of reaching for his weapon because that led to a bolt piercing him in the side of the skull.

Rick watches the body fall limp to the floor before turning to Daryl emerging from the shadows.

“There’s gonna be more like him” Rick stated. “We won’t kill them all”

“Anybody, and I fucking mean anybody…who comes near my pregnant wife the way that guy did? Will meet the same fate”

And on that note, he returned back to his spot beside Y/N who instantly rolled over to face him and bring herself close.

[hinaaspanda]

the act of love | p.sh

pairing: idol actor! park sunghoon x idol actor! fem reader warnings: swearing, mentions of food + dieting, alcohol genre: enemies to lovers, secret pining, angst, slight fluff, smut: protected sex, fingering, slight dirty talk and praise wc: 10,639

Park Sunghoon was heartless; you were convinced. After selfishly leaving you for another company, Park Sunghoon was now your enemy. Now, with years past and both of your careers sky rocketing as famous idols, you thought you were done dealing with him. However, life had other plans; placing the two of you as main leads in an upcoming romantic drama!

hi! after months of writers block i am finally back with another sunghoon fic! i missed writing for my bae! also, this fic mentions idols not being allowed in relationships, so i just wanna make it clear; i know idols can probably date if they wanted to (unless theres a dating ban) and theyre entilited to their personal lives! i just wanted to add drama teehee. anyways, enjoy!

“Go out with me.” 

His voice rasped against your skin, his face mere centimetres from yours; lips even closer. Puffs of the cold air sprouted at each hitched breath, every impatient inhale. Rain drizzled around you, encasing your frames like a protective barrier. The world was no one else’s but yours. The streetlamp cast a warm light against your figures; in the spotlight of your own stage. His hand brushes your hair behind your ear, his touch as light as a feather. It sends shivers down your spine. Your pounding heart leaped from your chest, getting stuck between the walls of your throat. His eyes bore through your frame, keeping yours locked in its grasp. 

“I-”

“CUT!”

The muffled, yet heavily amplified voice of your director shocked your ears through the megaphone. Well, yours and the rest of the staff that surrounded you and your co-star. You jolted, eyes quickly scanning the filming set, complete with the fake rain machines, fans, and stage lights. Eventually they landed on your director, whose ears were practically puffing out steam. 

“You’re late again, y/n!” The director irritatedly reminds you, pinching the bridge of his nose. You wince, beating yourself up for your stupid mistake. He only sighs, his face growing less red, his tone becoming more forgiving. “Memorise your queues, okay? Now, that’s a wrap for today. Good work!” 

After your director finally dismisses the clamour of staff members and actors, clacks of footsteps  suddenly peak from behind you. You only roll your eyes. You knew exactly who it was, and he didn’t deserve even an ounce of your attention. 

Park Sunghoon. The man you hated most. 

The man you were forced to work with for this stupid idol drama. 

“If you needed my help you could’ve just said so,” Sunghoon crossed his arm, his face cold and indifferent. You scowled. His words may have seemed innocent, helpful even. But his snarky tone made it overwhelmingly clear; his words were nothing but harsh insults. 

Park Sunghoon was just heartless like that.

“Piss off, will you? I didn’t have enough time!” You were telling the truth; your schedule had been jam packed with dance practice and promotional events—the typical life of an idol. You puff your chest out like some dumb chicken, only earning a huff from Sunghoon’s lips as he steps closer to you. You couldn’t help but notice how much he towered over your frame with his lanky one. How small locks of his hair hung above his eyes like curtains. He probably got a kick out of it all. The thought alone made you sick.

“And whose fault is that?” Sunghoon only cocked an eyebrow. 

Mine, you thought bitterly. You hated when he was right. 

“Why don’t you rehearse the scene where you learn to shut up?” You spat back instead. With that, you spun away from him, retreating to your change room within the filming set. Leaving Park Sunghoon to fend for himself.

Truth be told, you didn't always hate him. Years ago, you and Sunghoon were actually close. Best friends, in fact. The both of you grew up together, spent your school years together, and you shared the dream of stardom and fame. You both wanted to be idols, and so you auditioned for the same company. 

Amidst all of this, the two of you swore on one sole promise; never leave the other behind. To never put the likes of stardom and fame before your friendship. Of course you were able to hold your end of the bargain. But Sunghoon? He couldn’t quite say the same. 

It was two years into training with the company. Sunghoon had grown awfully distant from you. For some, the changes were subtle, practically unnoticeable. You, however, certainly noticed, but you never thought much of it. Always hiding your feelings under the guise of your busy, clashing schedules. Always making excuses for his heartless actions—until Sunghoon told you he was leaving the company. 

You remembered it as if it was yesterday. His eyes held no emotion. His posture was calm, laid back. Another, bigger company, was offering him a higher pay and a debut date that was fast approaching. You thought it was crazy. You were sure he would never switch so easily. He wouldn’t break the promise the two of you made years ago. He wouldn’t betray you in just the blink of an eye.

You were wrong.

He announced that he would officially leave in a week, but his dorm was empty in just two days—it was no surprise that he lied. Nevertheless, in those same two days, you vowed to make an enemy out of Park Sunghoon; the man heartless enough to betray you.

And yet, you were here. Stuck as his co-star for an idol drama you didn’t even want. Just to listen to your company's orders. It irked you beyond belief. 

You haphazardly threw your purse over your shoulder, adjusting the hem of your hoodie before heading out the door to meet your manager. 

ENHYPEN’s Park Sunghoon and HEARTBEAT’s Ahn y/n to star in upcoming drama

You found yourself scowling at the article in front of you, the glare of the laptop screen burning white against the darkness of your bedroom. With a huff, your head sunk further into the plush of the pillow, your frame burying itself into the covers. Maybe then, you could hide away from this cursed reality. This cursed world in which you were stuck working with the man you loathed. 

The article purged open the gates of your mind, allowing memories to seep through. Unwanted memories of Park Sunghoon. Staying up past your curfews just to practise together; ‘practising’ your vocal lessons at the karaoke bar down the street from your dorms; secretly rigging group games so the two of you ended up together. Now, they were all just bittersweet memories that plagued your mind.  

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you missed those times. A small sliver of you wouldn’t mind miraculously travelling back in time just to see your best friend again. To relive those memories once again. 

Nevertheless, the Park Sunghoon you were forced to work with was not your childhood friend. In your eyes, he was a complete stranger. 

Throwing a stuffie at your laptop, you bit the inside of your cheek, tucking your face into your knees. Even when you first reunited for the first day of shooting, that asshole didn’t even bother to apologise. You could barely recognize him.

“Throwing your stuffies at his picture won’t get rid of him, you know.” A voice rang in your ears. Kiri—your team’s main dancer and your roommate—slumped against the doorframe with her arms crossed against her chest. Kiri inches forward sitting on the edge of your bed as you huff a groan. “It should. You’d think we’d have the technology for it by now.”

“You think anyone’s petty enough to make something like that?”

“Not petty. Efficient,” you crossed your arms.

Kiri leaned back, tilting her head. “How are you two ever gonna work together if you can’t even stand his picture?”

“I don’t know! They probably should’ve thought of that before slapping our names on a contract neither of us even wanted!” Your arms flailed in defeat. 

“Maybe it’s a sign?” Kiri hesitated. “Like—the universe wanted the two of you to make up, or something.”

Your figure erupts in laughter, but Kiri’s unflinching demeanour suggests that she wasn’t trying to make you laugh with a joke. Your giggles fizzle out within seconds. “You’re serious?”

Kiri only huffs, shooting up from her seat. “I dunno, but just give him a chance. Maybe Sunghoon changed for the better?”

You watched Kiri’s back as she trekked out of your room. You only scoffed. Now that was something impossible.

Despite the relentless physical activities, and clamour of people within the building, going to the gym was one of your favourite pastimes. It allowed you and your teammates to unwind after a long day of idol activities. All of your worries and troubles—washed away by a quick jog on the treadmill. 

Right now, you needed that more than anything. 

“Gonna run today?” Kiri probed, sinking into a wide leg stretch and twisting her shoulders around. You hum positive, crossing your arm over in a stretch. “Yeah, I need to clear my head.”

Kiri only nodded, yanking dumbbells off of a community rack before sinking into the first squat of her first session. You trek a few paces over to the treadmill aisles, sliding your headphones over your ears and swiping at your phone screen to play some music. Soon enough, you were off, your heels and toes pressing repeatedly onto the platform, your heart rate rising at a steady pace. Step by step, your mind was gradually clearing, de-stressing. Like a cloud flying away from an otherwise bluesky, all of your worries surrounding your idol activities, that stupid drama, and that stupid Park Sunghoon whisked themselves away. For once in what seemed like forever, you were at peace.

“y/n.”

A voice roughly jolted you back to reality. Hastily, you push your headphones off, hooking them around your neck before glancing around to find the owner of the voice. The voice that ruined your peaceful evening. 

You choke. 

Park Sunghoon stood before you, his hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned back in a nonchalant manner. You took note of his black shirt; the way it was tight enough to see his chest peeking through, the way his short sleeves were rolled up, exposing his biceps. You cursed at yourself for looking.

You simply stood there, eyes wide and spilling from their sockets. Your hand snakes up, fiddling with the treadmill dashboard to stop the equipment from moving. You cling onto the handle bars; maybe for stability, maybe for protection. You weren’t sure. You glance to the side, another figure taking up your view. He looked vaguely familiar; you’ve probably seen him during live shows before. A gulp runs down your throat as you collect yourself.

“The hell are you doing here?”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, your eyes glance at his pecks. Bruh. “I came here to work out. What’s wrong with that?”

“Isn’t there another gym near you?”

“This is my gym. I go here regularly.”

Your brows furrow. “What? This is my gym! I never see you here.”

“That’s a you problem,” Sunghoon tilted his head coyly, earning a groan from you. Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Besides, I’m not here for you. Jake wanted to say hi.”

Sunghoon jutted a thumb at the man beside him. His face held a wide grin as he held out his hand. You clung onto his palm in a swift hand shake, a smile now plastered onto your face. Jake’s eye smile never went away as he introduced himself. 

“I’m Jake, one of Sunghoon’s teammates! So nice to finally meet you!”

With a grin, you reciprocate his kind words. The two of you fell into wholesome small talk, completely forgetting the nuisance beside you. You already liked this guy way more. You and Jake talked endlessly about your similar hobbies, your overlapping interests. You enjoyed it, talking to the personified bundle of joy. It made you wonder why he was friends with someone like Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon cleared his throat, the sudden boom startling both you and Jake. 

“Let’s head back, man. I wanna get started on my reps.”

Jake only glanced back before turning around to face you, waving his hand at Sunghoon. “Start without me. I’ll catch up later.”

Sunghoon grumbled, turning around before marching over to the dumbbells. Only after he turned around did you notice the shells of his ears burning bright pink. Weird. 

You and Jake continued but something was off. You couldn’t quite focus. As the two of you were about to enter the conversation topic of favourite foods, your stubborn eyes began to wander to the view of Park Sunghoon. You watched as he sat hunched over on a random bench, his hands clinging onto a dumbbell as he curled the equipment up to his chin, and back down slowly. You watched as his muscles tensed, his sweat beaded off of his face, drenching his hairline. He looked good; and you hated it. 

Sunghoon’s eyes darted towards you, scanning back and forth between you and Jake. His eyes burned a hole through his teammate’s chest. His tongue poked beneath his cheek before his eyes darted away. Watching him, you found your heart racing. Odd, considering you hadn’t been running for a while. Something was really wrong with you. 

You waited for Jake to leave before collecting your belongings and dashing off the treadmill. You made a b-line for Kiri, innocently working out. Kiri glances up, a confused and weary look on her face. “You good?”

“No.” You murmur, your heart racing even more. What was going on? “I wanna go home.”

“That’s a wrap for today!” The director’s voice echoed through the building, signalling the end of another successful shoot, but you could barely pay any mind. Not with your stomach grumbling like a lion dying of hunger. 

This should’ve been an easy fix. With the table of refreshments, reserved just for the staff and cast members just 4 paces away from you, it was easy for anyone to take a quick bit and become instantly satisfied. Yet,your case was awfully special. You were currently on a diet. 

It was a common occurrence for someone in the industry in order to look your best in time for a special event. With group activities fast approaching for you and your group, the practice of dieting was natural to expect. 

Suddenly, the crackles of an open wrapper stung through your ears. Your head snaps to the sound, your senses heightened by the possibility of food. You squinted to get a better look. An overly seasoned rice ball, burning auburn in colour, with a dark strip of crispy seaweed running down the middle. It was a sight for sore eyes; your mouth watered. The way the oil glistened under the setlights above, the way each rice grain fell between the perfect balance of crisp and chewy, it all made your cravings skyrocket. You were about to take a step towards the godlike piece of food before your eyes remembered to scan the rest of the figure; the owner of the seaweed-wrapped gold. 

You stopped.

It was Park Sunghoon. He was the one digging into the last riceball from the refreshments table. He was the one responsible for your suffering. 

Your mind replays images from the gym; your last unfortunate encounter with the man you hated. The way your eyes wandered to places you didn’t want to see, the way your heart raced at his presence. It all stung you. And yet, here he was, making his way over to you. You found yourself coddling your stomach.  

“What do you want?”

“You were the one staring at me, y/n.”

You gulp. You try to look away from the bothersome man, you really did. However, with Sunghoon bringing the rice ball closer and closer to your starving frame, facing away from him was even hard to manage. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two from his mouth watering snack. 

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” You only gulp. Were you that obvious?

You stepped back from the idol. “I’m dieting. Everything makes me hungry.” You noticed your words wavering at the last half or your sentence. 

Slowly, you walked away. You were expecting that interaction to be over, anyway. There was no use talking to him if he wasn’t going to provide you with any sort of solace. And besides, this was Park Sunghoon. Since when did you give him the light of day?

“There’s a convenience store down the street,” You heard Sunghoon’s voice as he jogged over to your escaping frame. “Let’s go.”

The convenience store? With Park Sunghoon?

“Are you dumb? My manager will kill me!”

A sudden warmth ghosted around the curve of your wrist. Sunghoon’s fingers clung gently around your skin, dragging your frame closer to his. 

“We’ll be quick.”

Running. You and Park Sunghoon were running. Pushing past the equipment and staff members scattered across the filming set, all yelling at you to come back. With your hand in his, and an optimal view of Sunghoon’s back, the two of you dashed out of the filming set doors, escaping into the daylight. It was odd. It was as if the world surrounding you completely vanished, leaving the two of you secluded. Just for this maybe 5 minute run to the convenience store, the world was your and yours alone. 

“You’re paying?”

“Yeah. You need to eat.” 

Your brows furrowed. Since when did he care? 

Your shoulder was nudged, and a rice ball fell into your hand. Your eyes met Sunghoon’s, whose eyes were already on you. “Here.”

You clear your throat. Your voice was small; an attempt to hide your fluttering heart. “Thanks.”

You dash in front of him, not wanting to look at him more than you needed to. This was the end of it all, anyways. You got what you wanted, and you were now on your merry way. 

“Wait—” A tug on your wrist once again. Sunghoon pulled your frame close to his chest, away from the sliding doors behind you. 

“Let’s stay here. Our managers will both have our heads if they see where we are,” Sunghoon huffed a chuckle. 

“You only realised that now?”

“Just eat your rice ball” Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

Unwrapping the golden deity of rice and seaweed, you and Sunghoon step to the side, huddling together at the corner of the lottery ticket station. The silver light above you flickered, the buzzing of the electricity humming across the entire room. However, you couldn’t give your surroundings even a sliver of your attention. You were too busy dying of hunger to care. 

“Look at you two!” The honey-like voice of an elderly woman seeped through your ears, breaking your attention away from your feast. It was the cashier, taking 5 from her work. “What a cute couple you are!”

You choked on your rice. A couple? Was that what the two of you looked like? Sure, Sunghoon bought your food for you, and you did just come running into the store holding hands. You sort of understood the confusion. But hell, was this lady ever wrong. Never in a million years would Park Sunghoon come close to someone you’d want to be a couple with. You would never give the thought the light of day. Dating Park Sunghoon? Nice try. He would need a heart of his own before getting a chance at capturing yours. 

You shined a bogus smile. “Oh no—”

“Thank you!” Sunghoon’s voice collided with yours. You choke on your rice again, despite no rice being ingested to begin with. Maybe you were simply choking on the audacity Park Sunghoon had at this very moment. You step up, desperately in need of clearing up the miscommunication, but the lady was already occupied with her next customer. You huff a sigh, returning to the last bites of your blessed rice ball.  

As you shoved the remaining food into your jacket, you and Sunghoon slip out of the convenience store, a cloud rumbling over your head, and your cheeks erupting into flames. You’ve been doing that a lot lately. Grumbling, you turn to him. 

“What was that!?” Your voice squeaked a little.

Sunghoon only shrugged, throwing his elbows in the air and his palms at the back of his head. “I couldn’t correct that sweet old lady! Plus, it’s not like we’re ever gonna see her again.”

The speed in which Sunghoon dismissed the situation agitated you to your core, but you couldn’t help but notice the shell of Sunghoon’s ear flashing red again.

Currently, you sat on the curb as you took 5 from an outdoor shoot. Knees tucked into your chest, and your lunch balancing on your kneecaps, you munched on your food peacefully. The sky that was suspended over your head painted a simple wash of blue. It carried a few splotches of white clouds, the same way your brain carried few thoughts in its head. For the first time in a while, your mind was at peace.

A certain warmth ghosted your side, snapping you out of your peaceful trance. It was Sunghoon, choosing to sit right next to you. Sunghoon waited a few paces before taking a bite of his lunch. Only then did he consider looking over at you. You, however, were already looking in his direction. Baffled.

“Relax. This was the only place I could sit.”

You grumbled under your breath.

You glance at Sunghoon’s lunch. A simple fruit salad; pieces of fruit cubed and tossed together in a plastic bowl. You watched as Sunghoon periodically pushed the mountain of mangoes further into the corner, minimising the chances of them mixing into the rest of his salad. Suddenly, memories from your trainee days flooded your brain. Memories of Sunghoon scooping the mangoes off of a fruit cake; of Sunghoon wincing the moment he tasted mangoes in his fruit cup; of Sunghoon always remembering to give you the pieces he never wanted because he knew you liked them.

Your chest twinged.

“You still don’t like mangoes?” Your words were uttered before you could think them through. You wince; only now realising that the usage of ‘still’ implies that you remembered the past. Fuck.

You watch the corner of Sunghoon’s lip twitch up before his head hangs down, as if he was trying to hide a smile. “You still remember that?”

You stayed silent. The answer was obvious, unfortunately. A lump jumped from your throat. “You’re still weird for that, by the way. Who the hell doesn’t like mangoes?”

“They're always bad. Too sour.”

“You’re just bad at picking them out.”

“Also they’re slimy. Gross.”

“They’re not—” You heave a sigh. “You’re so dumb.”

The two of you pause, your eyes holding onto each other as if a thread had hung in the balance. As if on queue, the two of you suddenly burst out into fits of laughter. You didn’t know exactly what came over you at that moment. It was as if your body had become possessed, manoeuvred by a puppet master. Yet somehow, sitting here, on this random curb, laughing with Park Sunghoon—it brought you a strange sense of comfort.

As the laughter dialled down, and the two you grew silent, Sunghoon still held onto your attention. Slowly, Sunghoon picked off the mango cubes from his bowl, reached over and plopped down onto yours. You only looked up at him, confused.

“They’re your favourite, right?” Sunghoon simply asked, a grin stretching across his face. Your stomach felt queasy. “You’re not the only one who remembers, you know.”

Why was your heart racing?

Today was the day. The day you dreaded the most.

“You’ve already survived this far, I really doubt today’s gonna be any different,” Kiri reasoned from her end of the company van. You hated how logical and indifferent she was, and how you were the complete opposite right now. 

You curled up in a ball on your car seat, your forehead resting on your knees. “Do you even know what scene we’re filming?” 

Kiri only huffed as the company van slowly pulled into the driveway. “Yes, y/n. You’ve only told me everyday for the past week.” You huffed. So much for having a friend who understood you. 

The van shifted into park, and Kiri released herself from the confines of her seat belt. With one last glance back at you, your teammate hops out of her car door, making her way to her individual schedule for the day. It took you every ounce of energy in your body to not reach over and grab her in a tight hug; steal her for yourself and your much needed moral support. 

“You’ll be okay, y/n. Trust me.” The car door slammed shut. 

Kiri definitely could not be trusted. Not when the particular scene you had scheduled was a kiss scene. With the one and only Park Sunghoon. You had every right to be just a little bit panicked. 

The director’s run down of today’s schedule seemed shorter than usual. Or maybe it wasn’t—maybe you were just desperate to stall the inevitable. Either way, you still found yourself sitting behind the snack table. It was the corner of the room; the farthest corner from the filming set. The set you’d soon occupy with the man of the hour.

Park Sunghoon was the man you hated. He was the man that broke your promise, leaving you to bask in your loneliness. He was the man that abandoned your friendship in favour of fame. You hated him for all of it. Kissing Park Sunghoon went against everything your entire being had to offer.  

And yet, you couldn’t get the thought of him out of your mind. 

You let your stubborn eyes wander as you stood in the middle of the scene. Now, you were in-between takes, and you simply stood there as a makeup artist touched up Sunghoon’s face. Slowly, your eyes approached him. In the next 5 minutes, you would’ve kissed him, and this will all be over. 

In 5 minutes. you would have kissed Park Sunghoon.

You’ll kiss Park Sunghoon.

“I’m yours, Choi Min Ah. No one else’s.” Sunghoon’s toasted breath wrapped your skin in a blanket of warmth. His voice was sweet; dipped in honey. Or, his character, Kwang Ill Han’s voice was. That’s who the voice belonged to—not Sunghoon. Recently, you’ve been having a difficult time differentiating the two. Sunghoon folded a hand over your cheek, slowly and gently linking his lips with yours. You crashed into the plush of his lips, your skin swiping at his. Your heart was racing again.

This was the kiss scene between Choi Min Ah and Kwang Ill Han. Not yours. So why was it affecting you? 

The director yells cut, and the last scene for the day finishes. The clamour of staff members and actors run around, preparing to leave. However, you simply stood there. Trapped in the middle of the filming platform. Trapped in your own thoughts. Thoughts that Park Sunghoon had selfishly plagued. 

You knew it was childish. You knew it was stupid. But it was what you needed to quell your erratic heart. 

So you ran.

Park Sunghoon was a selfish prick.

It was the thought that tainted Sunghoon’s mind as he watched you escape the film set earlier that afternoon, and it stayed plaguing his mind for the duration of that evening—even until he got home. He sunk into the plush of the couch, not bothering to pay any mind to the colossal mess his members left in the living room. Instead, Sunghoon simply gazed at the lamp above him, glowing a deep amber—letting his thoughts eat him alive. 

He let himself get carried away.

Sunghoon knew this would happen. He knew the risks that laced the opportunity of a reunion with you. He knew that, at just the slightest chance, Sunghoon would fall in love with you all over again. And, as far as his career was concerned; falling in love was forbidden. 

It all started years ago, a couple of years after the two of you joined the same entertainment company—though Sunghoon remembered it like it was yesterday. Sunghoon had just finished up his vocal lessons for the evening when the company CEO sat Sunghoon down in front of a laptop. It was littered with pictures that Sunghoon was a part of. However, all these shots had one thing in common; they were all pictures of you and him. Pictures of Sunghoon staring into your eyes lovingly as you decorated a cake for your group leader, of Sunghoon intimately adjusting your hair, clueless to the cameras filming you. Pictures of Sunghoon that expose his feelings for you.

In other words; a relationship rumour was bound to spread, if it hadn’t already, and Park Sunghoon was screwed.

The CEO goes on to tell Sunghoon the dangers that this holds. How a dating rumour during their trainee years had a greater chance of ruining their careers, their images. He scolded Sunghoon for being dumb and reckless. It was natural; you had a knack for making Sunghoon go crazy ever since he first met you in grade school. Park Sunghoon was smitten for you, and now he finally had to pay the price. 

The CEO, however, proposes a solution that would dial down the situation. Sunghoon would transfer to BELIFT LAB, a company in need of a male trainee for an upcoming debut of their new boy group. With Sunghoon now out of the way, there would be no room for rumours between the two trainees to spread. And with the sudden news of  Sunghoon signing with a new company ranking first in the spotlight, dedicated fans were bound to simply forget any rumours would even exist. 

Sunghoon didn’t know much when it came to this line of work. So, he agreed to the scheme. Anything to keep his career, and you, safe. 

The hardest part about it all was keeping it a secret from you. It was on company’s orders; you didn’t have a clue what was going on at the time, so it was best to just leave you in your blissful ignorance. The company ordered him to distance himself from you. To break away from the bond the two of you shared for years. It was no wonder you hated him; you had every right. And so, Park Sunghoon tried to shut down his feelings for you. Hiding his heart behind a fake persona that hated you the same way you hated him—thorns against his skin. Nevertheless, it was the only way to keep you somewhat in his life. 

Park Sunghoon knew it was bad news when he found out the two of you would reunite under the shackles of this web drama project. Park Sunghoon knew he couldn’t control himself around you; that you knew just how to drive his heart crazy. That was exactly why he was left here, alone in the living room, with the image of you running away from him replaying in his brain. 

His feelings for you have sparked once again. He wasn’t quite sure if they even left to begin with.  

But there was no way in hell your feelings would ever reciprocate. Not in a million years. It was clear the moment you ran away from him. 

A ping! jumps from Sunghoon’s phone, the light from the screen catching his attention. His thumb swipes at the notification; a message from his manager. It reveals a calendar with the upcoming weekend highlighted a bright green. The coloured boxes read only one sentence, but it was a sentence that would be burned in Sunghoon’s brain for a lifetime. 

FILMING AT JEJU - WEEKEND SHOOT + WRAP UP PARTY

A weekend away at Jeju island. With you. 

Sunghoon’s heart leaped from his chest.

Jeju island was a tourist spot most notably known for its beach resorts, pearl blue ocean water, and unique cuisine. For most, it’s considered a home away from home, a paradise to let your hair down, to destress from the chaos of life. 

For you, however, it’s a different story. 

“There must’ve been some mistake!” Your manager’s voice echoed through the hotel lobby. You still managed to hear her loud and clear despite sitting across the large room. “You mean there’s no room booked?”

The hotel staff only glared back at your manager, face deadpan. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t see your name on the list. We’re fully booked at the moment. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

With a huff escaping her lips, your manager treks back to your figure, her shoulders slumped to the ground. You didn’t even need to ask. Based on her defeated demeanour, and the fact that you overheard the whole conversation from where you sat, you understood; you had no place to stay. Here you were; in the paradise of Jeju Island, homeless for the weekend. Stress washed over you.

Your manager whips her phone out, swiping aggressively as she buried her face into the screen. “I’m so sorry, y/n, but we’re gonna have to find a motel tonight. I’ll look for the nearest one right now.” 

“That isn’t necessary, miss.”  A voice perks up behind you. A voice that needed no introduction as your frame froze in its place. Sunghoon sauntered away from his visibly worried manager, and towards your sunken figures, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. “You two can stay with me and my manager.”  

You choked. What sick game was Sunghoon playing? 

Your manager politely waves her hands to refuse, but you quickly step in, hands crossed over your puffed chest as an act of defence. You barely even managed to keep steady eye contact. “We don’t want your help. A motel will do just fine.”

“No one should have to pay extra just for a motel,” Sunghoon reasons, not backing down. “We also booked the deluxe suite; there’s plenty of room for the four of us.” 

Your manager’s resolve quickly faded away the moment Sunghoon mentioned paying extra for a last minute room. Her eyes grew wary, shaky. The harsh reality of finances crashing down on her in an instant. She wasn’t going to give in so easily, was she? 

She was.

She looked at you with doe-like eyes. “We should accept their offer, y/n. It’s only for the weekend.”

Before you knew it, you and your bags were being taken up to the top floor of the hotel. Into the deluxe suite that belonged to the one and only Park Sunghoon.

A defeated sigh. It was the only reaction your body could muster amidst the sheer buffoonery of your current situation. Being forced to room with the man that drove you crazy; how's that for comedy?

You shot up from the edge of the bed, the thought of your depressing situation suddenly parching your throat. You pivot towards the kitchen, attempting to pay no mind to the series of zips and rummaging of luggage currently happening in the living room. You didn’t want to give Sunghoon the light of day, even if he was just innocently unpacking his suitcase. 

Crisp ice water slides down your throat as your eyes wander. Stubbornly. Eventually landing on the man you swore you would ignore. 

His eyes were on you, too.  

You quickly dart away, your heart beating rapidly.

Sunghoon roughly clears his throat, the sound echoing around the walls of the living room. You glance back, watching him cling unto the nape of his neck with one hand, while the other loosely tosses a card onto the armrest of the couch. Almost immediately after, Sunghoon turned away from you. “Here’s the second keycard—your manager forgot to pick it up before she left.” 

You only nodded, shuffling over to retrieve it. Of course he didn’t consider throwing it somewhere actually close to you.

The closer you got to the furniture, the more Sunghoon’s belongings appeared before you. His sweaters and shirts were folded in a neat and compact manner and sitting at the corner of the couch, his towel draped over the backrest. Miscellaneous items were littered across the surface of the couch, items you didn’t pay much attention to. Except for one.

A polaroid stuck out of Sunghoon’s wallet. You checked to see if Sunghoon was watching before snatching it away. It was an image of a younger Sunghoon standing in the middle, holding up a cake as frosting was smudged on his nose and cheek. A wide grin was plastered on his face as other trainees surrounded him. You were in the picture, too, right by his side as you held onto one side of the cake. A finger covered in frosting suggests that you were the culprit of his smudged face. He didn’t seem to care, considering Sunghoon’s cheeky grin was directed at you. Devil horns were drawn on Sunghoon’s head, and a messy heart was traced around your face. 

A date was etched into the bottom of the polaroid. 12/08/2018. Sunghoon’s birthday; the last birthday he had before leaving the company. Your eyes widen, heart racing.

Why would he keep something like this?

“You still have this?” Your voice trembled. Sunghoon’s head whips back to find you holding the polaroid, his eyes widened in surprise. He treks over to you, swatting the picture away from your hands. “What are you doing!?”

You fidget with your fingers, eyes gazing on the carpet. How long has he had that picture? What did that mean? You look up at Sunghoon once again, slow steps bringing you closer to his frame. 

“Why do you still have this?”

“I just do.” Sunghoon’s eyes held yours hostage. He didn’t say much, yet the weight of his stare was enough to move worlds.

His eyes quickly diverted from your gaze as he continued to unpack. You nipped at your lip; Sunghoon’s answer wasn’t enough. Questions spiralled in your head. Your world was unravelling before you. You retired back to your room, your back keeping the door shut. Your face was flushed, your chest heaved. 

What was Park Sunghoon doing to you? 

“We’ll have you two start from the couch and then move onto the bed. We’ll end the scene when Sunghoon takes his shirt off.” Your director instructs, his hands blocking the scene directions on your last official filming session. 

Normally, you would’ve been elated at that fact. However, if this trip has proven anything to you, it's that the universe wants you to suffer. And so, this exciting final scene you were currently stuck filming was none other than a steamy makeout session between the two main characters at a romantic getaway. 

Fear shot down your spine, your brain hot-wiring at that very moment. You were already overwhelmed with the revelation that Sunghoon’s polaroid from last night brought you. By then, your heart was already leaping from your chest. The last thing you needed was to lock lips with the man responsible for your malfunctioning brain. 

Nevertheless, you hiked towards the couch like a mindless drone. You’ve given up on fighting for what you want. Sitting on the couch, you suddenly grew overwhelmingly conscious of your clothes—or lack thereof. You dawned a tank top etched in lace trim, shorts of the same pattern, and a satin robe to cover your arms. You knew that this outfit was necessary for the scene, but that didn’t stop fear from shooting down your spine.

Sunghoon soon joins you on the couch, dawning a simple white button down, with a few buttons undone—exposing his bare chest. Instinctively, you hug your chest, shielding your skin with the satin fabric of your robe. You caught a glance of his collarbones, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. Heat creeped against your cheeks. 

Sunghoon averted his gaze from you, yet you still felt as though all attention was within your grasp. His hand rested on his knee, fingers fidgeting the wrinkles of his trousers. 

“Tell me if you get uncomfortable, alright? I’ll stop—even if the scene isn’t finished.”

There he was, reassuring you like the caring asshole he is. Your heart leaped.

“Okay.”

It didn’t take long before your lips were snug against his, his weight overpowering yours as he moved to lay on top of you. Sunghoon’s hand snaked against your jaw, gently creeping further to the back of your head to provide you a makeshift headrest. Your hands reached up around his neck and his shirt collar, pulling his frame closer against your exposed chest. Sunghoon’s skin was warm. His other hand grips your waist, a finger poking beneath your shield of fabric. His touch was soft.

Your heart was pounding so hard, it pulsated through your ears.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself. 

Your breaths grew hazy as Sunghoon lifted your frame into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his hips instantly—clockwork. In just a few steps, Sunghoon’s knees reached the edge of the bed. He laid you back down gently, your frame sinking into the plush of the bed. Your arms refused to let go, holding him closer for more kisses. Your stomach flipped in on itself. Sunghoon gently pulled himself away, standing up straight. You watched as his hands trailed up to the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

Within seconds, Sunghoon slipped the white fabric off of his broad shoulders, tossing it aside before bending back down to meet your lips once more. Your fingertips grazed against his skin tracing his shoulder blades. His skin grew warmer against your touch, as if you were lighting him on fire.

This was just a scene, you reminded yourself once more.

“CUT!” Your director’s voice pierced through your ears, pulling you back to reality. Sunghoon immediately jumps off of you, trekking off to retrieve his shirt back. His back was turned towards you, but a quick glance could confirm his cheeks were currently flaring red. You, however, couldn’t say much on the matter—you were in even more of a mess than he was. 

The two of you linked eyes for a split second, tension fogging up the air around you. All while your heart was still pounding so loud your ears could hear. 

Distracted. Park Sunghoon was distracted. And it was all thanks to you. 

The spice of liquor scratched against his throat, the ice cubes kissing his lips. He huffed a sigh, running a hand through his hair for the umteenth time that evening of the wrap up party. He didn’t even bother listening to the boring speech his director was giving, or anyone else who was talking that night—it all washed away, like grains of sand parallel to a body of water. 

Sunghoon couldn’t figure out what exactly was causing this feeling. Maybe it was the fact that he so foolishly let you stay over in his hotel room. Now, he was stuck sleeping just a few paces away from the woman he loved but couldn’t have. Torture. He gulped down another sour sip. Or maybe it was the way you kissed him that afternoon. Even if it was just for a simple scene, the way you melted into his lips made Sunghoon wish everything was real. Maybe he was drunk on your kisses, and a little bit of booze, too. 

His eyes wandered, only to be led straight to you. With a glass of wine in your hand, you stood in a small huddle consisting of your manager and a few other faces Sunghoon couldn’t recognize. 

Maybe it was the way you glistened without the need for any light. You lit the dim banquet hall up with your smile. The smile Sunghoon missed so dearly.

Another gulp.

Or maybe it was the way you wouldn’t even spare Sunghoon a glance since the wrap up party. The way he had let himself get carried away trying to get close to you, and ultimately driving you further away. Maybe Sunghoon just needed to finally accept everything. 

A distraction. You needed a distraction. From Park Sunghoon, specifically.

Park Sunghoon had unwantedly staked his claim on your brain for longer than you wanted. The man you knew to be selfish and cruel, willing to break your friendship in the blink of an eye, was turning your world upside down. He was caring for you, ensuring your comfort, putting you first. It all confused you, set your brain into overdrive. 

And that polaroid. The picture the size of your palm, capable of burning everything you knew into flames of the unknown. It left you with endless questions; though one stood out like a sore thumb. 

Did Sunghoon miss you?

That was an absurd thought. 

Nevertheless, it was a thought that nipped and itched at your brain for the rest of the evening, and you needed a way out. Your first course of action was to hide. Sitting at a table that was oceans away from where Sunghoon and his manager sat during your director’s long and drawn out speech. Shoving and squeezing yourself into groups of people you barely knew; you basically trailed your manager around like a lost puppy. 

When you weren’t wandering around aimlessly, however, you were tucked away in the washrooms, calling Kiri as you sat hunched over on a closed toilet seat, whisper-shouting as you explained the escalated situation.  

“Just ask him, y/n.” Kiri huffed over the phone. “It’ll give you peace of mind.”

“I can’t just approach him!”

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I just can’t think straight around him! He’s constantly on my mind and he drives me crazy! I think my blood pressure spikes the moment I’m near him—”

“y/n?” Kiri interrupts. You gulp. “Yeah?”

“Do you like Sunghoon?”

You choked, turning a few heads of guests washing their hands at the bathroom sink. Was Kiri being serious? You didn’t like Sunghoon. He drove you clinically insane, he was so unpredictable it made you want to rip your own hair out. Whenever you were around him, your heart stubbornly danced beneath your chest, your mind went haywire.

Oh god. 

You liked Park Sunghoon.

“I-I have to go.” You hung up at the speed of light. 

You didn’t need a distraction. You needed answers. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you scanned the venue. Your eyes landed on a glass of wine resting in someone’s hand. Your eyes then pivot to the open bar, empty and barren. A lightbulb springs from your head. 

The last thing Sunghoon expected to see tonight was you, piss drunk and toppled over on the counter of the open bar. 

Your face was hidden in the nest of your forearms, your hair was messy and spread out. Sunghoon was positive a strand or two had fallen into your mouth. Peaking through the bush of your hair, Sunghoon gazed at your droopy eyes, eyelids practically sealed shut by fatigue. Empty glasses outlined your figure, but you couldn’t bother to pay it any mind. The outside world didn’t matter when you were this drunk. 

That was the problem. You couldn’t care less about your surroundings; it was dangerous. 

Sunghoon nipped at his lips, his eyes holding onto your frame like his life depended on it. He knew leaving you alone and unattended was irresponsible, that it would place your life in grave danger. You were smack dab in the middle of a social event, strangers littered all around you. Anything could happen at any moment. 

Nevertheless, Sunghoon also knew your current resolve when it came to him. He knew you hated him, you couldn’t stand being near him. A hand ran through his hair. Would he even be of any help?

Sunghoon sighed, drilling his hands through his pockets. Someone else could probably help you just fine. You probably didn’t need him. 

In 3 seconds he changed his mind.

A fire burned in his chest, his jaw tensing as he saw your passed out frame. Sunghoon marched over to your seat, his blazer slipping off of his shoulders and into his hands. Sunghoon soon spread the blazer over your shoulders, which were exposed and laced with goosebumps from the air-conditioned room. He caught the attention of people passing by when he pulled your frame up by your shoulders, gently resting your head against his chest as he swung down to pick up your legs. He swung your frame away from the open bar and out of the banquet hall. 

He trudged towards the hotel elevators, your figure slumped in his arms. He couldn’t help but glance at your sleeping frame. 

Even now, you looked beautiful as ever. 

Opening your eyes, you were greeted with two things; the hotel room’s ceiling, and Park Sunghoon’s blazer enveloping your torso. 

Your stomach was flipping in on itself, your heart racing. It actually worked. Your suspicions were right. Park Sunghoon actually brought you to your hotel room—your and his room, anyway. 

To say that you didn’t feel just a little bit guilty would be a big understatement. Pretending you were drunk out of your mind at an open bar, hoping the man you just found out you had feelings for would see you and take you to his room just to test whether or not he cared for you—maybe it wasn’t the best idea. You, however, were desperate. You needed to know where Sunghoon’s heart stood.

As you rose up into a sitting position, A figure shuffled into the room. A figure that needed no introduction.

“You’re not really drunk, are you?” Sunghoon accused, a hand dropping a glass of water gently onto the desk left of his hips. You only gulp, murmuring your response. 

“M-maybe.”

Exasperated, Sunghoon heaves a deep sigh. His head is thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. You watched as he shuffled over to you, his figure plopping onto the edge of your bed. 

“Don’t scare me like that!”

Sunghoon’s eyes held you hostage, boring into you. As if he was reaching into your soul and claiming it as his own. You, however, stood still, in a trance. Unable to move under his presence. A blanket of silence fell on top of you—it was so silent you could hear your heartbeat pulsating in your ears. Quickly, you snap out of your trance, eyes severing the contact as you scurried away from his frame. 

“Then don’t get so scared.” you spat defensively.

Sunghoon clung onto the nape of his neck. “How could I not? It’s dangerous—”

“Just—stop it already!” you snapped, interrupting him as your palms pushed into the mattress. “Stop getting scared for me, caring for me—stop that!”

Sunghoon's eyes gaze down at his feet before trailing up to meet yours. As you continue, your eyes couldn’t help but follow suit, hanging onto his gaze like your life depended on it. You shoot up from your spot on the bed, your heart stuck in your windpipe as you towered over him.

“You’re supposed to hate me! Call me names, make fun of me. Instead, you’re this caring, sweet guy that I can’t stop thinking about! I mean, we’re supposed to be enemies. You know, when you left the agency that day; when you left me that day, I swore I would hate you with all my heart. How the hell are you gonna be my enemy when my heart races at the thought of you? If you’re all that's on my mind?”

You gulp. “How the hell am I supposed to hate you when I like you so much?” 

“You like me?”

A hand slapped over your mouth. Sunghoon’s eyes widened as he gazed up at you. His jaw practically grazed the floor. He blinked a few times as your heartbeat pounded again in your ears. 

“Leaving the agency was never my choice.” Sunghoon’s voice was hushed.

What?

Slowly you sat down. Sunghoon watched you, his eyes holding yours hostage the entire time you sunk down onto your side of the bed. 

“I know that this sounds like some sick excuse, but I never wanted to leave. The CEO saw how close we were during our days as trainees, and thought that it would threaten our careers if we ever had any rumours spread about us.” A hand brushed over Sunghoon’s hair. “So, he asked me to leave. The CEO had no plans on telling you about any of this, so I had to keep it from you, too.”

Suddenly, Sunghoon slid off of the bed, kneeling before your figure. He gazed up at you once more. “I’m sorry—for everything.”

Your heart was racing. Sunghoon continued. “I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you, for leaving you that day. None of that would’ve happened if I was careful, if my heart wasn’t so stubborn.”

“What are you saying?” Your voice trembled. 

Sunghoon heaved a deep sigh. “I liked you, y/n. I liked you so much that I could barely keep it in, barely keep composure. I tried my hardest to get over you, but it was no use.”

Sunghoon’s eyes glistened under the amber hotel lights. “I knew my feelings for you only grew.”

A thread hung in the balance as the two of you continued to stare into each other’s eyes—a thread you wouldn’t dare sever, never in this lifetime. You watched as they sparkled; held the stars beneath their surface. You watched as they stared lovingly at you, yet hungry for you all at the same time. You also watched as your own hands grew minds of their own, reaching out to Sunghoon’s cheek before stopping mid-air. “Sunghoon?”

“Hm?”

“I think I need to kiss you.”

As he pressed your trembling hands up against his soft cheek, Sunghoon’s lips folded up into a grin, his voice melting like honey. “I’m all yours.”

Park Sunghoon tasted sweet against your lips— Sweet floral scents, most likely his cologne, puffed out from his frame as you held him close. You snaked an arm around his neck, fingers clinging around the nape. His palms hooked onto your waist, fingertips digging into your skin. As if you were minutes away from leaving his touch; he wasn’t about to let that happen again. Your grip on him grew tighter, too. You didn’t want him slipping from your fingertips either. Never again. 

A part of you felt warm and fuzzy; this kiss was real. 

With his weight overtaking you, Sunghoon leans further into the kiss, his lips pushing deep into yours. Your shoulders press deep into the plush of the mattress as his figure shells over you, shielding you from the outside world. Fireworks pop against your skin. Your stomach flips in on itself each time Sunghoon nibbles at your bottom lip; teasing you. Your hands roam around his back, tracing each bump and crevice of his body, relishing in his touch. His palm cradled your head, lacing between your hair strands. It was as if you were floating on a cloud. 

With one swipe of his tongue at your lips, Sunghoon deepened your kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. His movements grow rash, fierce. As if he’d been starving for centuries; and you were his next meal. His hand glides up and down your waist, your skin tight dress doing nothing to conceal the friction. Heat bundles up between your legs.

You wanted more.

A moan slips from your lips, entrapped in your kiss. That, however, didn’t stop Sunghoon from hearing you loud and clear; from igniting a flame within his chest. With you, his mind was a ticking bomb. Gently, Sunghoon pushes away from the kiss, his breath hazing against your lips. His eyes flickered open, immediately gazing down at you. 

“How far are we going, tonight?” Sunghoon huffed. “I’m not moving until you tell me.”

Your fingers traced his muscles. They were tense and flexed; he was clearly restraining himself. Stopping himself from indulging in you like some beast. You gazed up at him. The way his collar bones peaked through his neckline, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink; as if he was drunk on your presence. The way his hair hung over his starry eyes. 

You’ve never felt more certain of something in your life.

Your hand cradled Sunghoon’s cheeks. “I want you, Hoonie. All of you.

At the sound of your nickname, Sunghoon’s eyes grew hungry, dark as he harshly pressed into your lips. His tongue slid up against yours. They tangle, intertwine; eliciting another mewl from your lips. Sunghoon was certain his brain short circuited at your voice. Slyly, Sunghoon pressed his knee against your inner thigh, outlining its frame before slowly inching closer to your centre. The pressure sent shivers down your spine, your back instinctively arching forwards. Like you were aching to be closer, to hold him tighter. 

Sunghoon’s knee pressed further into your clothed core; one that was practically soaked. He moved the knee up and down, left to right; your brows furrowed in euphoria. A full, booming moan echoed, earning a needy grunt from the man who drove you insane. 

“That sound is driving me crazy, baby.” Sunghoon gritted through his teeth. “Moan more for me, yeah?” 

You didn’t even need to try. 

Slowly, Sunghoon peppered kisses down your jaw, sucking against your searing skin. With a hand at the small of your back, Sunghoon lifts you up from the bed, his hand trailing up and fiddling with the zipper of your dress. He pulls the zipper down, and you’ve never been more grateful for built-in bra pads. His lips, however, never once breached contact, his lips gently migrating down to your collar bones, your chest, and eventually the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched as you felt his warmth circulate your nipples. Sunghoon takes a breast into his lips, his tongue swirling and flicking against your stiffened. You whimper at the contact, your core pooling in lust.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

After blindly searching for his hand, you tug on his wrist, positioning it between his thighs. Sunghoon smirked against your skin, the vibrations of his chuckle shuddering through your body—he heard you, loud and clear. After pulling down the rest of your dress, Sunghoon feathers his touch against your inner thighs, teasing you. You throw your head back, swimming in ecstasy. 

Softly, too soft, he drew circles around your clothed pussy. He grazed against your clit, driving you crazy. For a split second, Sunghoon parted his lips from your skin, moving up to meet your ear. “Where do you want my fingers, darling?”

You whimper, trying to find the words as Sunghoon toyed with your folds beneath the fabric. “In—fuck—inside. Please.” 

In an instant, Sunghoon pushed aside the measly fabric, finding your core dripping in heat; dripping for him. A digit slides into your folds, exploring your walls. He pumps his finger slowly, in and out as your back arches in desire. Your body spazzed and jolted. His knuckles grazed against your walls as he pumped faster and faster. Sunghoon slyly pushes in another finger, and then another, stretching your pussy around the width. You felt every inch of him, every section of his skin. As his pumps grow faster, harsher, Sunghoon’s fingers curl inwards, hitting your spot. 

You couldn’t keep in your noises, your lew moan bouncing against the walls, the same way your hips bounced against his fingers. In a weak effort to quiet down, you bite your finger. Sunghoon, however, quickly notices, gripping your hand by the wrist. “Don’t—I wanna hear you, princess.” 

You only whimper a response, your legs growing further apart with each pump of his fingers. A knot begins to crumple together at the pit of your stomach, your moans growing louder and louder. You found yourself shouting Sunghoon’s name without realising it, gripping into his skin. Sunghoon dips his hips against your bare core, pressing his digits further into you. You felt a tenting sensation against your core. 

The knot grew tighter and tighter as Sunghoon’s pumps grew hasty and messy. Wet sloshes echo in the room, though they were overpowered by your lust-ridden mewls. Sunghoon grinds into you, the metal of his belt buckle shocking your core frozen. 

“Cum on me, princess.” Sunghoon demands.

On cue, the knot finally pops open, and juices drip out of your pussy as you scream out his name. It coated your walls, his fingers, even the bed beneath you. Sunghoon made sure you watched as he took his dirty fingers into his mouth, sucking your sweet juices dry. 

“How much more can you handle, baby?” Sunghoon askes between huffs. You glance down, the zipper of his pant’s barely holding in the tent beneath his pants. You only nod, lust hazing over your eyes. Sunghoon smiles, kissing your temple. “Good. We’re not even close to done, princess.”

In a few swift moments, Sunghoon unbuckled his pants. You watched as the fabric dropped down to his knees, his length revealing itself. Your eyes gawked at the sight, earning only a chuckle from Sunghoon as he brought your wrist up to his lips.

“Only you make me like this, y/n.” He kissed your skin. 

An ache clouded your pussy. Suddenly, you felt empty, needy. You needed him. You mewl, gaining his attention in an instant. “I need your cock, Hoon.”

Rolling a condom around his dick, Sunghoon positions his tip at your entrance. You send a signal before Sunghoon presses into you. You throw your head back, eyes rolling to the heavens at the contact. His cock filled you up, grazing and sliding against your walls. Your skin slaps against each other with each slow thrust, the dirty noises filling up the room. Sunghoon throws your legs over his shoulders, giving him more access to your wet, needy pussy. Your hands gripped the sheets; anything to stay tethered to reality. 

Sunghoon’s thrusts grow messy and rough. That familiar knot bundles up beneath your stomach as an idea pops into your mind. 

“Can I go on top?” You huff breathlessly. Sunghoon gulps, covering his embarrassed face with the back of his palm. “Y-yeah. Please.”

You and Sunghoon clamour around to switch positions, reaching for random kisses back and forth. Your back faced him, your ass grinding against his abs, your shoulder blades rubbing against his chest. Slowly, you sink onto his dick, your folds enveloping his throbbing length. Sunghoon grunts closely behind you, concealing his sounds with kisses against your neck. His hands roam around you; digging into your hips, fondling your breasts. Though, it was the mischievous massaging of your clit that sent your brain to short circuit. You bounced on his cock faster, your and his moans intertwining in the night air. 

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of this, princess,” Sunghoon strained. “Of you bouncing on my cock—shit—just like that.”

His words send butterflies through your stomach. Your pussy clamps down on his cock as the two of you scream each other’s name. You weren’t far from your second climax of the night. One more bounce against his dick sent your juices overflowing. Sunghoon’s pools up at the tip of his condom. Slowly, you pull away from his length, plopping down beside him on the bed, huffing from exhaustion. Sunghoon lays down with you, cradling his frame in your arms. 

“That was amazing.” You hum into his skin. Sunghoon traces small shapes along your bare back. “You were amazing, baby.”

Suddenly, the jingle of keys sound from across the hotel room. 

Your managers. They were back from the party.

Uh oh.

“You realise how dangerous this is, right?” Your CEO pinches his nose bridge, leaning back into his office chair. “The press won’t react lightly to this.”

You and Sunghoon glanced at each other, shoulders pressed against one another as you stood before your CEO. Sweat beaded from your forehead. Though, you had every right to be nervous; you were currently asking for permission to go public with Park Sunghoon. The man you loved most. 

“Yes—” 

“Let me finish,” Your CEO raised his hand. “But, seeing as though you both are highly regarded and successful artists, and no longer trainees—I’ll allow it.”

The two of you lit up, immediately gazing at each other with smiles. You cling onto one another in a sweet embrace. As he only half-payed attention to your CEO’s orders of letting his company know, Sunghoon peppers kisses on your cheek. 

Sunghoon pushes your hair behind your ear, smiling. “You’re finally mine, baby.”

[dilfl0v3rss]

Gonna drop this here before I completely disconnect from the outside world.

What aboutttt bestie Sasha introducing you and drugDealer!Ony at a party, only to find out y’all already know each other very, very well.

me and you like this fr🤞🏽 we share a brain. you are me and i am you. i love you twin😩 we gon use shy!reader for this one bc regular reader would’ve been made it known that he was her man😭

“girl let’s goooo. you wont die if you just lived a little.” your roommate sasha sighed as she watched you look yourself over for the third time. “i don’t know sash. it’s a little short for me” fingers toying with the fabric of the short skirt as you looked at your unrecognizable reflection.

you weren’t really the type to wear this kind of stuff. going for a calmer, more covered up look rather than the cute skimpy outfits sasha would wear. but since this was your first party your roomate insisted you borrow some of her clothes. “girl you look sexy as fuck. if i wasn’t with connie i’d definitely hit that.”

sasha light tapped your ass before turning on her heals and leaving your room. “i’ll be in the car bitch. don’t take all night in here staring at yourself.” you sighed before picking up your purse and following her. as soon as the two of you walked in the door the smell of weed and alcohol hit you, making your scrunch up your face as you fanned your hands in the air to clear the smoke.

“no need to be doing allat girl. i’m getting you high tonight anyways.” sasha giggled as she watched your eyes widen. the two of you walked deeper into the party, eventually stopping in the kitchen for some drinks. you settled for a small cup of casamigos while sasha grabbed a couple shots of fireball.

you didn’t get the chance to take a sip of your drink before sasha began pulling you towards the backyard. “we gotta go cop some weed before we start.” you gave her a puzzled look. “connie’s not here so where you gon get it from?” your question was immediately answered when the two of you stopped in front of a man leaning on the wall.

he was tall, about 6’3 wearing his sweatpants sagging a little under his briefs. his black tee fit snug, stretching a little as his arms flexed while he was lighting the blunt in his mouth. “ony ony onyyyy.” sasha yelled as she gave the guy a side hug. “yoo sash. what you need?”

ony gave you a calm glance, eyeing you as he took a long hit from the blunt. sasha took his expression as confusion, explaining the situation to prevent any confusion. “oh!! ony this is my best friend and roommate y/nnn!!” she turned towards you, laying her hand on your shoulder to give ony an introduction as well. “y/n this is onyankopon. connie’s bestest friend and my backup plug.”

ony chuckled as he held his heart. “damn that’s all i am?” sasha sighed loudly before correcting herself. “and he’s my friend” his large hand outstretched, waiting for you to shake it. your hand slowly connected with his, looking away shyly as his deep voice rang through your ears. “nice t’meet you sweetheart. what y’all ladies lookin for tonight.”

sasha opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. “hello?….the fuck you mean?….ughhh okay….okayyy i hear you damn.” you and ony looked at her in confusion. “uhhh we gotta go. connie stupid ass left his gun in my trunk and he needs it now.” sasha rolled her eyes as she put the fireballs on the nearby chair.

you honestly didn’t wanna go to connie’s, knowing damn well the two of them was gon end up arguing then fucking mad loud upstairs while you sat on the couch watching spongebob. ony could tell you didn’t want to go by looking at your face offering to take you home instead. “i can take her. if you okay wit that” sasha immediately shook her head. “hell nah she don’t know you like that. ian gon do that to my girl.”

ony shook his head as he watched you stand there with your hands behind your back, swaying from side to side as you quietly watched the two of them go back and forth. “sash i know how y’all be getting and i know she don’t feel like sitting in the living room while you get your back blown out by my brother.” a giggle flew out of your lips as sasha gasped in shock. “oh my goddd y’all be hearing usss??”

the two of you nodded your head before sasha looked away in embarrassment. “you okay wit going wit this bum?” brown eyes looking him up and down before a small smile crept on your lips. “i don’t mind as long as you don’t drive fast.” ony’s lips twitched into a smirk. gold grills peeking at you before he replied. “i’ll drive at whatever pace you want.”

“oohhhh my godddd faster daddyyy.” you moaned as ony pounded into you. hand lying flat on your back as you drooled all over his seats. strings of your arousal kept the two of you connected as you started fucking yourself back onto his dick. “that’s right mama throw that shit back. you know how i like it.” your ass clapped repeatedly on his stomach as you moaned his name.

“love your lil outfit princess. look so sexy wit this skimpy shit on.” ony’s hand gripped the skirt that was bunched up around your hips. tugging on it to fuck you onto him harder. he took his other hand and landed two rough slaps to your ass. “ooouuu mhm.” your ass poked out more are you prayed for more of the delicious contact. “you like that mama? like when daddy spanks you?”

“ y-yea. w-want daddy t’be rough wit me.” ony smiled at your change in behavior. just thirty minutes ago you were quiet as a mouse, barely able to look him in the eye. but now here you were, getting your back blown out in the back of ony’s black srt, begging him to fuck you like a slut.

you and ony have been doing this thing for awhile now where you’d act like the two of you weren’t well acquainted in public just to fuck each other like you’re married in private. since he was a very well known guy and you didn’t talk to many people you came up with the idea to leave your little situation a secret.

trying to avoid the drama that came with having a fine ass drug dealer for a boyfriend. it’s been going well in your eyes, but ever since ony saw you all dressed up for this party he knew that tonight he’d have make you fold. wanting your sexy ass all to himself everyday and not just days you were alone and horny.

“i want you t’be my girl” he moaned as he stilled his hips. watching you continue to throw it back on him at a slow pace. his words made you look back at him, hips never faltering as you looked for a hint of untruthfulness in his eyes. “b-but people might-”

“ion give a fuck about how people gon feel. i only want one girl and it’s you.” a moan slipped from your lips as ony began thrusting into you again. light brown palms pushing your back down again before slamming into you repeatedly. “auugghh onyyy.” your hand reached back and gripped his wrist, holding it tightly as you tried to endure the harsh strokes he fed you.

“be mine y/n. that way you can be daddy’s girl every night instead of the nights you home alone.” your pussy fluttered at his words. you loved when he talked like this. “c-can i think ab-about it daddy?” ony leaned down to kiss on your neck. “take your time mama. m’stayin wit you tonight anyways.”

ony ended up crashing at your place that night. chest full of tattoos facing the ceiling as he slept on his back. his black durag that he always left in your dresser fitting snug on his head. while you admired your new boyfriend you were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. “hello?” you whispered. “hey girl m’stayin over at connie’s. you get home safe?hope he didn’t drive too fast.” you giggled as you glanced at ony’s sleeping figure, brows furrowed and lips parted as he slept peacefully in your bed.

“i got here fine. he drove really well-” the feeling of ony’s large hand pulling your back to his chest made you gasp before he spoke lowly in your ear. “why you so far away mama? when you stay at my crib you usually like to sleep on my chest.” his sleepy voice rang through the speaker, making sasha gasp. “oh. my. go-”

“see you tomorrow girl byeeee.” you hung up, putting your phone on silent to hush the millions of texts sasha was going to send soon. you turned towards ony before lightly pushing him in his back so you could sleep comfortably on his chest. “goodnight princess.” he grumbled before falling back asleep. you smiled, cuddling your face deeper into his inked chest. “goodnight papa.”

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

french press

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

wc: 1.2k reader: femme/gender neutral (gender warnings: reader is wearing lingerie, reader "pushes t*ts together" -- you've been warned) warnings: smut 18+; MINORS DNI!!! -- specific warnings under the cut -- also some angst and some funny stuff summary: jiwoong has a biiit of a jealousy problem. he's so jealous rn that he won't even touch you :( with his permission, you take matters into your own hands (and onto his thigh). *ੈ✩‧₊˚ oh helloooo. long time no see. decided to write something for the hell of it. maybe i'll write some more soon...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

~

warnings: 18+ explicit smut, thigh-riding, penetrative sex (reader receiving), descriptions of cum (reader's and jw's), unprotected sex, cumming inside, jealousy/toxicity, swearing, pet names (baby, angel)

also the title is VERY clever. french press: french masseusse pierre and... mating press. i'll leave now.

~

“baby,” you whine, pushing your arms together a bit to accentuate your tits. “don’t you wanna touch? you love touching my tits.”

the sheer, black lingerie set you were saving for a special occasion is hugging every curve of your body perfectly as you straddle your boyfriend. a garter belt squeezing around your right thigh, you know you’re irresistible to anyone with a pulse.

but apparently your boyfriend has passed away since he sat down on the couch with a huff twenty minutes ago. he’s still warm though and that’s permission enough for you to let him have it.

“oh my god,” you groan; smacking your hand on the leather armrest like a frustrated child. “woongie! want you to touch me so bad.”

“well, you should’ve thought of that before you let another man put his hands all over you,” jiwoong answers-- head turning to the side in the ultimate display of pettiness. 

you sigh exasperatedly. “it was a massage, woongie. a professional one that you paid for!”

“so?” he asks with a pout. “are you suggesting i’m a cuckold by my own doing?”

“you are the only one suggesting that actually,” you reply, running your hands down his clothed chest. “the only thing i’m suggesting is that you fuck me. and i’m strongly suggesting it.”

“oh yeah?” jiwoong responds, one eyebrow raised in interest. “are you sure those words aren’t actually meant for pierre: the unnecessarily handsome french masseuse?”

“you literally gave me a gift certificate for my birthday!” you exclaim, hitting his chest lightly in frustration. “baby, i tried to request an ugly massage therapist. the woman at the desk looked at me like i was being rude. and i was! for you.”

jiwoong’s eyes go straight to your barely-covered core and you think for a second he’s finally about to give in. “you asked for an ugly masseuse and she gave you a former louis vuitton runway model? i should’ve just given you tickets to magic mike live!”

“kim jiwoong-ah, if you don’t fck me right now, i swear to god,” you threaten emptily, sinking down on one of his grey sweatpant-adorned thighs. “i’m just gonna use you however i want.”

jiwoong folds his arms across his chest in a final act of defiance, attention returning to the tv screen. “knock yourself out.”

it takes everything in you not to whine like a little spoiled brat, but you manage to suppress it. instead, you grind a little harder down onto jiwoong’s thigh. his legs are lazily spread apart in the most enticing way. you could reach right down his pants and grab him in your hands (a tried and true method that jiwoong loves), but you have something to prove too.

so you repeat the grinding motion, your heat connecting again with the toned flesh of your boyfriend’s perfect thighs. at first it’s just for show-- you need his attention and you’ll do anything you have to to get it back.

but after a few moments, a soft moan escapes your throat. jiwoong’s breath audibly hitches; his body stiffening a bit at the sound of your pleasure. despite this, his eyes stay fixed on the screen.

as a familiar knot grows just below your stomach, you almost start to forget about your goal. maybe it’s desperation speaking, but riding your boyfriend’s thigh is actually a lot more stimulating than you thought it’d be. 

“fuck,” you whine, increasing your pace involuntarily. your hands are gripping the back of the couch, eyes closing as you rapidly approach your high.

suddenly, jiwoong’s thigh grows harder-- a sturdier surface for you to grind on. he’s flexing his muscles for you, helping you reach your climax like the perfect boyfriend he is.

“gonna cum all over my thigh, baby?” jiwoong asks, voice already noticeably fucked out. it’s not a mystery who won this game. “gonna make a mess all over my pants like a fucking angel?”

“i--... oh my god, i--...” you cry, strong hands finding your hips and guiding them down for you onto his thigh. you place your hand gently at the base of jiwoong’s neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt and toying with his collarbone. “i--... ‘m cumming...”

pleasure taking over, you reach your high as jiwoong continues to guide your hips for you. “woongie, love you. love you so much.”

your eyes flutter open to see jiwoong’s cheeks flushed, his eyes locked on your core. you look down to find that you have made a pretty little mess, honey dripping from you and soaking his grey sweatpants. he lifts you ever so slightly up and back down, watching as your juices seep through your sheer panties and onto him.

jiwoong meets your gaze for less than a second before you’re wrestled off the couch and onto your back on the carpeted floor below. carpet aside, it’s not a painless fall and as your boyfriend is hungrily ripping his pants off and burying his cock inside you, you decide it’s a good time to start playing again.

“oh my god, woongie,” you complain, knowing that your back’s gonna hurt even worse in the morning. “are you trying to make me need another massage?”

“no. more. massages,” jiwoong growls, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. “unless i’m the one giving them.”

“fuck,” you whine, pulling him even deeper inside you as you wrap your legs around him. trapping him. holding him hostage exactly where his possessive ass wants to be. “surely you don’t think you’re as skilled as a professional masseuse?”

“i’ll get certified,” he manages to grunt, grabbing hold of your thighs and pushing them up to your chest in a mating press. “or would you prefer pierre’s cock inside you instead?”

“that’s not fair,” you reply, absolutely relishing in your reinstated role of bratty sub. “how can i choose if i’ve never seen both options?”

“you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” jiwoong asks, kneading your thighs mercilessly-- striking his palm across the side with a gorgeous smack. “you’re gonna kill me so you can fuck pierre and then kill him too.”

“i’ll let you live a little longer if you cum inside me,” you promise, running your hand through his hair as he stares at you helplessly. “please, woongie. need you to fill me up.”

you can see it in his eyes: he’ll give you anything you want. he’d even let you fuck pierre if you really wanted to. but you don’t. not even a little bit. you just want jiwoong.

“fuck, i love you so much, baby,” he pants as his thrusts grow shallower and more sporadic. “gonna fill up this perfect... little...”

his hips finally spasm; a sweet moan swallowed down as you feel him spill into you. you sigh contentedly at the warmth inside of you, your boyfriend laying his head on your chest-- letting go of your legs from where he’d been pinning them and collapsing on top of you in exhaustion.

you wrap your thighs around jiwoong’s waist, making sure he can’t escape (he doesn’t want to).

jiwoong’s jealousy issues weren’t really harmful. he knew you’d never actually leave him for another man; what he always seemed to forget is that you’d never even dream of it. and besides, whatever misunderstanding arose always ended in fiery, passionate sex like this. 

so could anyone really blame you for making up sexy french massage therapists just to make your boyfriend jealous from time to time? not to worry... you’ll give jiwoong a couple months to recover from pierre before you drop your next fabrication on him: dante, the sensual italian chef.