#I knew I wanted to get the solo but wanted to see him play it too and it worked out

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[ljubitelj-sonca]

Plastika by Joker Out, Vienna 09.12.2024

Bojan in his element and Nace’s solo!!

[cherrygirlfriend]

bsf!rafe helping reader have her first orgasm with someone

warnings: smut (mdni)in the bsf!rafe headcanon post, i mentioned that what lead to their little thing was because reader told rafe that she had never had an orgasm with a partner, and i decided to write a little blurb about that

you and rafe were laid down on the floor of his living room, the rug tickling the back of your neck the room littered with red solo cups, empty bottles of booze, several of vases belonging to his stepmother in pieces around the room, music still playing faintly in the distance, but the only thing you could focus on was rafe's laughter as he laid on the floor next to yours.

"hey, it's not funny!" you exclaim, but the boy simply raised his brows amusedly, making you roll your eyes, "alright, it's a little bit funny."

"thirty seconds? seriously?" rafe laughs, and you smack him gently in his chest. "next you're gonna tell me he could never even make you come."

it was just a joke, but when he looked at you and saw the aloof look on your face as you stared at the ceiling, your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly avoiding looking at your best friend, rafe gasped, knowing that he just hit the nail on the head. "really? he never made you come?"

you sighed, and turned to your best friend, a teasing expression on your face, and you just knew you'd never hear the end of this. "alright, he never made me come. are you happy?" you scoffed, hoping he'd drop it, making rafe burst out in laughter, the pout on your face becoming more and more visible, "it's not funny..."

"okay, okay, i'll stop laughing." rafe said, and like he said, the laughter in his throat slowly dying down, "only if you answer one question." he said, his head now leaning against the palm of his hand as he watched you with interest.

"alright, what is it?" you asked exasperatedly, desperately wanting out of this situation.

"how many guys have been able to do that?"

you hid your face in your hands, but rafe simply took hold of your wrists, and pulled them away from your face, forcing you to look at him in the eyes as you bit down on your lower lip, not knowing if you should lie to him or just come out and tell him the truth.

"come on, i'm your best friend, you can tell me anything."

but when you quietly whispered the word "none," and stutteringly explained that you'd only been able to do it yourself, you could see a grin take over his lips, the one you'd known for the entirety of your life, the one that told you that rafe found something interesting, challenging, something to achieve, to conquer.

rafe swore it was just something that'd happen just once, that it wouldn't change your friendship, that it was normal. still, as his fingers slid in and out of you with ease due to the arousal gushing out of you, moans slipping out of your lips while your manicured fingers were holding onto his hair, it was feeling less and less like friendship, like the closer you got to your orgasm, the more intense it got.

"rafe..." you moaned when his soft lips wrapped around your clit, drawing sensations out of you that no other guy had before, ones you'd only managed to get yourself to feel, now much more electrified by the fact that it was him touching you.

"i'm just helping my best friend..." rafe said quietly against your clit, the vibrations of his words against the sensitive spot, causing you to throw your head back as you enjoyed every sensation his mouth and hands were giving you.

and when the electric feeling inside of your stomach finally spread throughout your body as if it had been set free, you were too naive to know just how much this would change your friendship, your moans far too loud for you to hear the little mumbles of "mine..." that your best friend was whispering against your cunt.

[krosiefics]

i wanna see you naked • yang jeongin

M D N I 18+

Synopsis: You and Jeongin decide to play two truths and a lie, taking shots of soju as a punishment. Who knew that with all the drinking Jeongin would confess his fantasies about you.

WC: 2k

Tags/Warnings: afab!reader, softdom!jeongin, bsf!jeongin, pure smut, pwp, intoxicated sex FULLY CONSENSUAL, piv, unprotected sex (DON’T DO THAT…also pee after sex guys), creampie, breeding kink(?), grinding, cunnilingus (clothed cunnilingus), fingering, hair pulling, doggystyle, light spanking, not proof read

a/n: YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY HIS SOLO STAGE BECAUSE WTF WAS THAT…Baby Bread nuh uh more like Daddy Toast…sorry-look I know Jeongin’s saying “call you my hallucination” (????) I think…it’s something hallucinations- but let’s all admit we ALL heard ‘I wanna see you naked’

“Ugh, I’m so bored!” You groaned, tossing your head back. You sat on the floor in front of the sofa while your best friend played and braided your hair behind you. “Hey, isn’t me doing your hair fun?” The black hair boy with a bleached spot commented. You turned your head, shooting him a playful glare. “You’re the one braiding it.”

“Fine, fine. What if we play a game?” Jeongin hummed, a piece of your hair unbraiding itself when his fingers loosened. “Ooh, two truths and a lie!” You say excitedly, giving him the strand of hair that had fallen against the nape of your neck, “I’ll start!”

“You suck at braiding hair. I don’t like your weirdly spotted hair…and,” you begin to ponder a third statement, “and I think your dimples are cute.”

You smile to yourself, a small tug of your hair causes you to scowl, “Hey!”

“I do not suck at braiding hair, I’m just learning!” Jeongin scoffs in a jokingly offended tone.

You turn over your shoulder again, Jeongin’s grasp on your hair seizing yet again. You give him an unamused look, shaking your head.

“What’s the lie Innie?” You prompt him, “I dunno…you’ve never called my simple cute before so that’s weird. And you haven’t really cared about my hair…I’m gonna say it’s the hair one?” Jeongin stated in a questioning manner, shrugging as he attempted to restart the braid- again. You pull your hair away, swiveling your body to face Jeongin.

“Correct, I do like your weirdly spotted hair. What do you want?” Jeongin gave you a confused look, “What do you mean ‘what do I want’?”

“Well you won that round, what do you want?”

“Oh we’re getting penalties?” Jeongin hummed in amusement, his interest peaking in this game, “Go get me one of those mochis you hide, I know you have some.”

You frown at him before getting up from your spot on the floor to retrieve the doughy dessert. A few more rounds of the game went on before the two of you decided to turn it into a drinking game, a shot of soju for every loss. You’ve lost track of how many rounds have gone by, your mind too fuzzy from the alcohol to recall.

“Okay, my turn again!” Jeongin grinned, he wasn’t nearly as drunk as you, having given you insane scenarios to choose from and getting almost every round of yours right. “I’ve seen you naked.”

“What?!” Your eyes shoot open, Jeongin’s statement sobering you slightly. “You want to see me naked.”

Your cheeks flush red, cause it’s true- though you’d never admit it. You must be a madman to not think that your best friend is hot, and that fact alone has made you have some thoughts about him.

“And, I wanna see you naked.”

Jeongin’s cheeks had a pink hue, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol. “What?” You breathed out shakily, you could feel yourself become aroused, you blamed the soju for that.

“I…I wanna see you naked.” Jeongin repeated himself, his face turning a darker shade of pink now.

You had no clue what possessed you to strip yourself of your loose t-shirt, but you blamed it on the alcohol. Jeongin watched your every move as you rid yourself of the material, his lip caught between his teeth. The sight alone sent arousal straight to his hardening cock, twitching in his pants.

You tossed the shirt somewhere onto the floor nearby, barring your bra covered chest to Jeongin. The black haired boy stared at you, his eyes grazing every bit of your exposed skin. He hesitantly brought his hand up before trailing his index finger along your bra strap.

Jeongin’s fingers trailed along the top trim of the bra, following the curve of your breast. Your breath hitches and he stops, Jeongin gives you a knowing look, you simply shake your head assuring him to go on. “Can I…can I take this off?” He stared up at you with flushed cheeks and a lazy soft gaze.

“Only if you,” You say, you bring your hand up to the hem of his white t-shirt implying your want, “take this off too.” Jeongin happily complies, a wide grin plastered across his face as he lifted and tugged his shirt over his head. “So I guess you do wanna see me naked.” He grins, you let out a playful huff.

Jeongin watches as your chest heaves and your thighs rub together under his eyes. Jeongin shifted closer towards you, “Is this okay?” His breath fanned across your cheek to your ear, you simply nodded in response. Jeongin’s fingers unclasped your bra from the back, the straps falling off your shoulders before the full undergarment was discarded.

The boy in front of you just stared in awe at your body, his eyes ranking up and down each curve of your breasts and waist. Growing timid under his gaze, you cross your arms in front of your body.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, his hand reaching to rest gently on your knee.

“No,” You breath out shakily, “I dunno…I know it’s weird but…I want it so bad- fuck I want you so bad.” You ramble, your trembling hands cupping his face. Oh how you wanted to lean in and kiss his pink lips. “Fucking hell.” Jeongin breathed out before connecting your lips together.

His lips were rough against yours, every ounce of lust and desire fueling the kiss. You raised from your spot on the floor, climbing onto Jeongin’s lap, straddling his thighs. Jeongin’s hands are immediately on your body, trailing them along your hips to your waist. His hands trailed slowly towards your ass, but never quite grabbed you.

Out of frustration you took his hands in yours and placed them on your ass, letting him know that it’s okay. Jeongin’s rough hands squeezed the fatty flesh before rubbing the area. You moan into his mouth when you feel his erection poking your clothed cunt.

“Fuck,” You bite your lip, pulling away from the kiss and resting your head against his. “Wanted this for so long, Innie.” You whine as his hands cup your breast, his fingers flicking your hardened buds. “Shit baby, I’ve wanted this too!” Jeongin says, his hips bucking into you.

Your hands fumble to his waistband, trying to desperately free him of the clothing. Jeongin’s lips attached to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there. Once you tugged at his slacks, he lifted his hips, letting you slide the pants along with his underwear down.

“Fuck, can I?” You say, pulling away from his lips once more as you stared at his erected cock. “Next time babe.” Jeongin said, watching you with amusement as you drooled over his cock. He swiftly flipped you onto your back, his fingers going to the waistband of your loose shorts.

You helped Jeongin slide them down your shorts, as you were gonna reach to pull your underwear down, he stopped you. “Don’t.” Jeongin simply stated, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

He maneuvered himself downwards till he was settled between your legs. Jeongin left kisses along your thighs up towards your heat. As he stared at your panties, he noticed a wet patch of your arousal stained on them, a sense of pride swelled over him knowing that he was the cause of it.

Jeongin suddenly leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds, a gasped moan falling from your lips as he continued lapping up your covered cunt. “Ah, Innie…they’ll be ruined.” You could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against your throbbing cunt, “I’ll buy you new ones, yeah?” He said, his hand making its way between your legs, slipping them under your panties and circling around your entrance.

“Ah, fuck Innie.” You moaned out as his finger nudged your panty to the side allowing his younger to finally meet your leaking pussy. Jeongin worked his finger in and out of your hole, stretching you by pushing another in, curling them at the right angle.

“Innie-“ You whined, neediness taking out your body, “Jeongin- stop!” And he did, Jeongin looked at you with round eyes, worried that he did something wrong or that he hurt you. “Are you okay?!” He says, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the couch cushion.

“I’m fine Innie, but if you don’t fuck me right now, so help me God.” Jeongin let out a sigh of relief before a small chuckle escaped his lips, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He said climbing up to your face and leaving a kiss on your cheek.

You felt your face flush, “I- Jeongin…don’t just say stuff like that I- what?!” The words you formed in your head went numb on your tongue. Jeongin simply bit his lip cockily. “You…ugh.” You groaned, pushing his body off of yours, straddling his hips once again before taking his cock in your hand and dragging it along your wet folds.

“Oh fuck.” Jeongin hissed, his hands flying to your hips, gripping tightly. Every trace of his cockiness was wiped away. You could feel him throbbing underneath you, the veins along his cock protruding at the need for friction. “Babe, don’t start something you can’t finish.” Jeongin warns, squeezing the flesh at your hip.

“Who says I can’t finish it?” You taunt, a playful smirk on your face. Before you could blink, Jeongin had flipped you over the couch, your hands pinned above your head with one of his hands as his other guided the tip of his cock to your entrance.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jeongin smirks, barely pushing his tip in before pulling out again. “This is still okay right? You don’t need me to stop-“ “Yang Jeongin! I swear if you ask me that one more time- if I want you to stop I’ll tell you, just fuck me already.”

With your confirmation, Jeongin flushes out against your ass as he pushes himself into your warm heat. Erotic moans falling from both of your mouths. “Shit, you’re so tight baby.”

“Fuck, I feel so full.” You whine as Jeongin starts thrusting into you.

Jeongin watches as your tits bounce with each thrust he gives. His eyes linger on your ass as it smacks against his pelvis. A sudden smack echoed throughout the living space, followed by a sting of pain on your asscheek. Jeongin watched as the flesh moved under his touch, how it reddened so quickly, how you moaned as he spanked you.

“You're so pretty like this, bent over and taking my cock like this.” Jeongin’s words go straight to your cunt, that familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“Holy fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered as Jeongin continued pounding you from behind. You were suddenly pulled back by your hair, forcing you to look up. “You gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Jeongin mumbled, his grip on your hair loosening so that he doesn’t hurt you.

“Mmm, fuck yes Innie! Please can I cum.” You cried out as your climax neared. “Cum on my cock baby, you got it.” He encouraged, his pace never faltering. A few more thrust and you orgasmed, a watery liquid wetting the two of you. “Fuck, you’re so sexy- you’re clenching so hard on me, doll.”

“Shit I’m gonna cum- where do you want it?” Jeongin grunted, his fingers retreating from your hair and wrists, gripping your hips yet again for support. “Inside.” You whimpered due to the overstimulation. Jeongin groaned as he filled you up with his seed, resting his head against the back of your shoulder as he emptied out inside of you, “You’re milking my cock so well baby.”

After pulling out and washing up, the two of you just layed there on the sofa in a daze. “So what was the lie?” You broke the silence. Jeongin looked over at you with a small smile, “That I had seen you naked- which I guess now isn’t necessarily a lie anymore.”

[starkeyisthelastname]

had the absolutely SINFUL thought of reader getting pornstar! Rafe to take photos of her pussy after he creampies it for her only fans

ooooo yes 💦😩

You not only filmed for larger porn companies, but had your own little OnlyFans on the side. Thats how you got started and discovered, a viral video of you that found its way on Twitter. You didn’t post as much as you had use to, with professional filming throughout the week taking most of your time. Most not if all your videos were solos or sexy pictures after you had just done on set, and were freshly fucked.

The constant hate you had received after people found out that the pussy slayer himself was fucking you more than once, had made you upset for the first few weeks. You weren’t use to getting blasted on social media, and the spew of jealous bitches seemed to be never ending. If you were truly the only girl Rafe was fucking more than once, then maybe you needed to turn this negative into a positive and play back.

You were a gasping mess per usual, eyes rolled back and legs spread wide as Rafe’s hung cock pounded into your wanting hole. You were so greedy for him, there was no way that his dick was not made for you. As much as you loved getting paid for having sex on camera, it was almost starting to become a nuisance. You had been faking orgasms every scene you filmed that wasn’t Rafe as he had kept his promise of ruining your holes for anyone else.

“You like that shit whore? Who’s fuckin dick you makin a mess on?” Rafe asked through gritted white teeth, his hand giving you a light but firm slap to your cheek as he continued his brutal pounding.

It amazed you how this man could make you dumb on the dick with such ease. It was like you were learning how to talk again while he gave you pipe, your words slurred and broken as you tried to figure it out. Another slap to your sparkly cheek though, had you snapping out of it real quick as his thrusts slowed down. “You really think I’m playin today? You want Rafe Cameron’s nut in your pussy, I suggest you start speaking the fuck up.” His cerulean eyes completely dark, something you had learned about him when he was close to coming undone himself.

You whined pathetically, knowing you did. Every time he filled your pussy up with his seed, it almost made you feel like you belonged to him in such a deeper way. His dirty words were always a catalyst for throwing you over the edge to your climax, your sopping cunt sucking him as you pleaded him to not slow down. “No no no…. don’t slow down. I need it Rafe… I’m makin a mess a-all over your big cock!” You blabbered incoherently, his thrusts speeding back up as soon as you said his name.

Your words didn’t make much sense, but that didn’t matter to you when he squeezed your throat as you came all over him and a few thrusts later he was spilling himself inside you with a string of loud grunts and nasty words. It was when he slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, that he leaned back to admire his work. “Such a pretty fuckin pussy filled with my cum.” He mumbled, a blissful smile spreading across your beautiful face.

“Take a picture. I wanna see…” You said softly, an idea coming to your head as you reached for your phone. Not only were you uploading these to your OnlyFans for a little refresher and new content, you were about to make all those other hoes big mad by posting it on Twitter.

There were two pictures with the flash on and a 10 second video of Rafe’s digits spreading your pussy lips open to show his cum spilling out of your fucked out hole and onto the sheets of his bed. Anyone who knew Rafe, knew he always wore a distinct gold signet ring on his index finger. So when you uploaded the video to Twitter with the caption ‘Y’all can still be mad😢 but guess who’s getting creampied by him? Not you. 🤣’

Let’s just say… you got your little revenge.

[enhard]

lee heeseung — “bullseye”

pairing: loser roommate!l.hs x fem!reader

cw: smut, loser hee i can’t stress this enough, lowk a pervert and dirty minded, very very down bad but jealous af, lots of masturbating, usage of toys, stealing your underwear, mentions of nudes, he’s a virgin, cute breeding kink for my boy (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞

hee is the biggest loser in enhypen. try to change my mind.

@hoseokteardrop you gave me a brain itch (。ˇ ⊖ˇ）♡

not proofread ! (MDNI)

you always knew your college roommate was a loser, he played games all day and night in his dorm, never attended parties or outings. you liked him as a friend though. he’s sweet.

if only you had known that he would think about you all the time, whenever you came back home from a college party with a dress shorter than usual, he couldn’t help but quickly excuse himself to the bathroom just to fist his cock thinking about you.

he can’t stand it. he can’t accept seeing you in clothes so revealing going to parties where other men are there. why would you need attention from other men from campus? isn’t he enough?

he likes you. a bit too much. he’s horrible at flirting though. he has no experience in relationships or intimacy it’s pathetic.

“fuck, i’m cumming” is all that echoes through his room late at night, hoping to not wake you up.

he’s a virgin, hoping that you would be his first, but at the same time he’s terrified that he will do something wrong and you’ll hate him forever.

he would offer to do the laundry, just to look at your underwear, imagining you in it. how the panty straps would hug your hips with your skin glowing so bright.

he would steal some panties from you just to fuck them when he was feeling needy. you haven’t noticed they were missing to this day.

when you weren’t home, he would quickly go to his desk, pressing away at the pc to find his favourite videos. he would close his eyes imagining that those sweet sounds were all yours.

he wishes he would get at least one nude pic from you, but he never got it, obviously. that was one of the things he dreamed of at night, simultaneously something that kept him up at night. he needed your body. he needed you.

he wanted to breed you. he wanted to fuck his cum into you. he wanted to paint your pussy with it instead of a tissue or his abdomen. he wanted to fill you up so good, every time you talked he was fantasising about filling up your pretty mouth with his cum. he couldn’t help it.

you wondered why so many packages came through the door and why he was so strict about you not touching them. you respected his wishes, but now you wished you had opened them.

he would buy so many toys and gadgets for him to try out, he could open up an entire account for posting not-so-innocent videos of him relieving himself with them.

from different pillows, to rubber toys, fleshlights anything you could think of. he had it.

he knew he was dirty but not himself, oh he was clean compared to other college guys. his room was a mess though. but he never ever let you see all of those toys, he kept them nice and locked away.

one day you were at the dorm, feeling it in your room. you just got that urge. you felt needy.

you didn’t have a boyfriend or friends with benefits to call, so you decided to do it solo.

you had some hot but horrible boyfriends in the past, none of which you wanted to think about right now.. so who would be better than your loser gamer roommate?

“i know he’s crazy, but he’s also crazy hot.” you thought. he might be a nerd but he’s also so attractive it’s perfect.

you travel your hand down, rubbing yourself through your panties. it doesn’t take long before you stop to take your panties off and insert your fingers inside. you close your eyes, imagining that your roommate is fucking you right now.

you start moaning out his name, those noises sneaking through the halls. you thought he wasn’t home, but as he was walking across the hall, he could hear your moans.

as he stops by your door, luckily for him it was ajar, he sees you shoving your fingers inside.

he thought he was dreaming, getting so excited over the sight. someone pinch him.

he licked his lips seeing a slight hint of your pussy he wanted to fuck. he wanted to claim it like it was his.

at one point, you stop fingering yourself to take your top off, exposing your tits with a bounce.

he almost moaned on the spot seeing those tits. oh how he wishes he could touch them.

he promised to himself that he’ll suck on them so good it’ll leave you weeping.

he promised that he would fuck you so good it would leave you craving for more and more.

he wanted you to ride him, your tits bouncing up and down with each move. his favourite position.

once you start fingering yourself again and moaning out his name, he leaks precum through his pants, getting a painfully hard dick, oh how he wished for this.

he takes out his cock right out his pants, stroking it and abusing his swollen tip while staring at you.

it felt good. way better than it normally felt. he was doing good at keeping quiet until you let out the hottest moan he’s ever heard, that tipped him off the edge. his moan followed yours and you instantly stopped what you were doing to stare at the door.

with a confused look on your face, but way too horny to scold him, you sighed.

“hee..? come in. please.” you breathe out.

you can see him walking in, with his cock still out. you slightly smile, seeing at how desperate he was for you.

“come here, let me give you what you want.” you say, seeing a cute stupid smile plastered on his face.

he comes up to you just to pull you into a kiss, and to pin you under him. but he clearly didn’t know where to rest his arms so you softly laugh at him. “is this your first time?” you say smiling.

he nods, visibly embarrassed by it. you find him adorable, and the thought that he’s a virgin makes you even more excited. he doesn’t know what he’s doing but you’re there to teach him.

“that’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. i’ll guide you.”

he smiles. he knows he just hit bullseye.

[hotyanderedaddies]

Yandere Cat Café Owner Wants You

[Yandere! Cat Dad Boyfriend x GN! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Kitty Café opened up down the block from your apartment, and ever since you'd seen the fliers promising delicious treats with tons of cats to play with, you'd made it your life's mission to visit it.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend was crazy allergic to cats, so you had to go solo. It bummed you out, sure; but the idea of getting to spend some time with tons of cats more than made up for it. You knew that you couldn't adopt one, but maybe you could do a little donation instead.

"Welcome!" a deep, warm voice sounded out as soon as you entered the small café.

Behind the desk was a large behemoth of a man. Even from across the room, you could tell that he towered over you. His body was thick and solid with muscle, and the tight polo he wore was painted across his large chest.

Around him, tiny kittens mewed and pawed at him, asking for pets.

The entire café was littered with cats (duh), but most of them seemed to be sticking close to the man.

"H-hi," you stuttered back, feeling nervous under the intense gaze of the larger man. His eyes widened when you spoke, and you could clearly see his Adam's apple quiver a little, and the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. "I, uh, I saw the fliers and I had to come see the new cat café."

The man's smile grew on his face. "Great!" he beamed. "You're actually my first customer. I'm Dominik the owner, by the way. But you can call me Da-- *cough, Dom." He smiled nervously, a pinkish hue forming on his face. "What can I get you?"

The owner was really friendly, and he seemed to be over the moon to have a customer. You could tell by how giddy he seemed, and even some of the kittens picked up on it, their glances shifting between him and you.

You looked at the menu behind Dom, amazed by the wide array of tasty treats and delicious drinks that you could order. There were so many choices that you couldn't make up your mind.

"Um," you wondered. "Surprise me." You shrugged, figuring that the café owner wouldn't find the request too annoying... or at least you hoped not.

Luckily, Dom's smile remained, and it even grew bigger. "Sure thing, Kitten," he grinned. "Go ahead and take a seat and I'll bring it out to you."

You winced internally at his odd nickname for you, but ignored it for the moment.

You took a seat near the window, taking time to pet some of the cats that were brave enough to wander close to you. A fluffy orange kitten with little stripes on it clawed its way up your pant leg, hopping into your lap and purring loudly.

"Aww, cute little guy," you cooed as you pet the kitten, loving how it purred even louder.

"That's Pumpkin," Dom said as he approached the table. "It looks like he likes you."

Dom placed a small cup on the table in front of you and a little baked treat. It looked like a cookie in the shape of a cat, whereas the cup was a latte with a little heart made out of the foam. It was really cute.

"Thank you," you said as you took a sip of the latte, your eyes widening at how sweet it was. And it totally lacked any of the bitterness that coffee drinks typically have. In short: It was fantastic! "This is amazing!"

Dom took the seat opposite yours. "I'm glad you like it, Kitten," he genuinely smiled. He then nodded at Pumpkin. "Are you looking for a cat to take home?"

You frowned slightly. "No," you relented. "My boyfriend's allergic to cats, so I can't adopt one."

Dom's smile vanished and his square jaw clenched. "Yeah..." he huffed, something audible in his deep voice, "that's not too good." He sighed before forcing a smile back onto his face. "I guess that means that you'll just have to come visit more often."

You looked up at the larger man in awe.

Blushing, Dom hurriedly added, "I know Pumpkin will miss you."

Almost as if on cue, Pumpkin meowed.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

After your first visit to the café, you quickly became a regular.

Every so often, you would come by to play with Pumpkin and some of the other cats.

And each and every time, Dom would light up and eagerly strike up a conversation with you, looking as giddy as a kid on Christmas. He was really nice to you and he was quickly starting to grow on you.

He was becoming a really great friend to you.

One day, you rushed over to the café, eager to tell the man the wonderful news that you had. Your fists balled up excitedly, you burst into the small shop, seeing Dom sitting near the counter with a few new kittens.

He perked up when he saw you, his face instantly brightening up. "Hey, Y/N!" he cheered, then he saw how excited you looked. "What's the good news?"

You couldn't resist shoving your left out towards him, showing off the gold band on your ring finger. "My boyfriend proposed!" you ecstatically cheered. "Check out the ring too! Nice, right?"

You were all smiles, dreaming of walking down the aisle to marry your boyfriend: a.k.a. the man of your dreams.

Dom smiled too, although his grin didn't touch his eyes. In fact, his smile looked pained, forced. He sharply exhaled before perking up slightly.

"How about a drink to celebrate?" he asked. "I've been working on a new one." He moved behind the counter and began to shuffle around with some ingredients, his broad back blocking your view of what he was messing with. He peeked over his shoulder to make sure that you couldn't see him add something special to your cup.

When he was done, Dom turn back around and placed a warm mug in front of you. He made sure to take extra care to shape the foam into a cute little kitty.

"I hope you enjoy," Dom grinned, pushing the mug closer to you.

You grabbed it and took a sip. The drink was incredibly sweet, just as you liked it. "It's delicious, Dom," you beamed. "Thank you so much!"

He smiled triumphantly as you downed your drink.

As the two of you talked about your wedding plans (Dom's smile morphed into a frown the more you went on about it), you suddenly felt yourself get a little dizzy.

You placed a shaking hand up to your head to try and steady yourself, but the room felt like it was spinning.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" Dom asked, a cheerful tone in his voice.

You wondered what was going on, not sure if you were catching a virus or something. "Um," you mumbled, "I think I'm getting sick. I'll just head home..."

You stood up, but your legs were wobbly and they gave out on you, sending you toppling down.

Before you hit the hard ground, Dom rushed over and wrapped both of his strong arms around you, securing you tightly in his hold. He pulled you to his torso, and you felt his chest rumble a little as he seemingly purred like a happy cat.

"Wha--?" you tried to ask, but it getting harder to speak as your vision blurred and you felt weaker by the second.

"Shh," Dom cooed as he placed a tender hand on your cheek. "Just relax, Kitten. Let Daddy take care of you."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, everything went black...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

When you began to stir awake, you first noticed that everything felt so comfortable. Seriously, whatever bed you were lying in had the softest sheets, and there was a fluffy comforter that was so incredibly warm. And speaking of warm, a large body cuddled you from behind, keeping you nice and secured--

"What!?" you jolted awake, everything rushing to you all at once. You struggled to move, but your panic only heightened as you realized that your arms and legs were bound together by what felt like silk ties. The fabric was soft to the touch so as not to irritate your skin, but they were tied so tightly that they severely restricted your movement.

Looking around the bedroom that you found yourself in, you could see that there were tons of cat toys and décor around. A few of the kittens from the café where in the room, watching you intently. Pumpkin purred happily when he saw you, his tail flicking to and fro with glee.

You kept trying to thrash your body around to get free, but the body behind you only tightened its grip on you, effectively stopping you.

"Calm down, Kitten," Dom sleepily yawned, his hot breath wafting over your ear due to his closeness to you.

You tensed up when you felt his lips press to your cheek.

"Dom?!" you cried, unable to get free with his arms around you. He even laid one of his strong legs over yours, his entire body acting as a double lock. "What's going on?"

The larger man chuckled. "Kitten," he cooed, "isn't it obvious? You going to marry that... guy." He said the last part with such anger in his voice that it almost came out as a growl, making some of the cats in the room hiss in response. "So I had to just snatch you up and take you home with me."

You were stunned silent, unable to wrap your head around what was going on. "What do you mean?" you trembled.

Dom pressed his lips against you once more, purring as he did so. "I love you so much, Y/N. So I brought you home with me to convince you to be with me, not with your ex-boyfriend."

"You're insane..." you try to argue, earning a nip from him.

"Don't say that," he hissed. "I'm not insane, you're insane for trying to marry some guy who's not me. You belong to me, and that's why you're here: to be with me, and only me."

Dom tightened his grip on you, sealing off any hope of escape.

"You're mine."

[g-hughes]

[ NUZZLE ] sender presses their face into receiver’s neck

quinn hughes bringing his girlfriend home to meet his family and he has never brought home a girl before so his family knows she must be very very special and he is always talking about her! it’s very sweet and soft and she just fits in the family so well and makes quinn so happy

A Keeper - Q. Hughes

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celly

synopsis: Quinn finds himself at the lake in the off season, and this time, he isn't flying solo

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none! losing game seven

For as long as Quinn could remember, his whole life revolved around hockey. He’d wake up, eat a quick breakfast, go to hockey practice, shower, eat lunch, sit and watch film, come home and take a nap, then go back for another practice or a game. Everything he has ever known has been hockey. Hockey took up every moment of his life, every single thought. 

But since that buzzer went off signaling the end of the final period of game seven, Quinn couldn’t think of hockey anymore. 

He wasn’t the type of guy to cry, well, not in public at least. But standing on the ice at that moment, staring up at the scoreboard and seeing the final score, he felt that all too familiar burn behind his eyes and in his nose. He glanced around at his teammates, all of them wearing the same shocked and sad expression on their faces. He didn’t dare look over at Arty, knowing that the young goalie was going to be feeling this loss harder than anyone on the team, even though they all played in the game.

You stood off to the side as Quinn answered a couple of questions for the press. Your heart was also feeling heavy and you had that same all too familiar feeling of unshed tears in your eyes. You were so incredibly proud of your boyfriend and his team. The way they were able to turn everything around from the previous season and give Vancouver a play-off berth in over a decade was something to celebrate about. And, even with that knowledge, all you wanted to do was pull Quinn away from the press and give him a hug and a thousand kisses. You could tell just by looking at him he was physically and mentally exhausted. But Quinn wasn’t going to be rude and brush off the media, he was the captain. He would gladly stand and answer the dumb “how are you feeling after the loss?” question so his guys can go home and rest.

When Quinn was done, he silently walked over to you, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers together. He silently led you towards the parking garage, wanting nothing more than to speed out of Rogers Arena and back home to your shared apartment. It was as if the fans knew that he wasn’t in the mood to stop and sign autographs like he usually did, instead they all seemed to give him space as he left the rink. 

The two of you seemed to move in silence as you walked into your apartment. You took Quinn’s bag from his hand, as he walked towards the bedroom. You were putting his clothes into the washer when you heard the shower turn on. You laid out a pair of sweatpants for him to put on when he was done, and went to start making him some tea. By the time he was done showering, you were sitting up against the headboard, scrolling briefly through social media, with a mug of camomile tea in your other hand. He quietly crawled into bed, and you shifted so he could lay down next to you. You held your arms open as he laid his head down on your chest. 

“I’m proud of you,” You said, running your hands through his hair. 

“Even though I lost,” He muttered. 

“You might’ve lost this one,” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, “But you’ve won so much more.” 

He looked up at you, tired green eyes locking on yours, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Q.”

— — — 

You were a ball of nerves. 

You had never been the type to get nervous. Usually, you were so sure and confident in yourself, but there was something about flying across the continent to meet your boyfriend's family that had your stomach in knots. Quinn had assured you that there was nothing to worry about, that they already loved you. 

Ever since you landed back in Michigan, it was like the weight of the world had been lifted off of Quinn’s shoulders. You guys stuck around for a couple of days after the loss, Quinn having to do exit interviews and pack up his things. Quinn only packed one bag to go back to the lake (oh, and his precious golf clubs), while you seemed to pack your whole closet. Quinn couldn’t help but laugh at you as you were quickly shifting clothes from your suitcase to his in the middle of the airport because your bag was over the weight limit. 

“I should’ve told you that we could go shopping when we get here,” He said, one hand on the wheel and the other one intertwined with yours, “Get you a whole new closet to keep here for when we come back next summer.” 

“Okay mister ‘i make eight point six million a year’,” You playfully rolled your eyes, “And who says I’ll be invited back next year?” Quinn gave you a look, “What?!”

“You’ll be invited back next year,” He chuckled, “There’s only ever been one person I didn’t want to invite back.” 

“Hey, that’s not nice. Trevor is a nice kid,” Quinn shook his head with a laugh, “But I’m serious. What if your family doesn’t like me and doesn’t want me-” 

“They are going to love you, Y/N,” Quinn pulled your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it, “They have been begging me to fly back so that they can meet you. My mom has been sending me texts and asking me about your favorite foods and hobbies and card games.” 

You couldn’t help but blush and look down at your lap. You haven’t met Quinn’s family before, but from what he described, you can tell that they are very close. Quinn talks to his middle brother, Jack almost every day on the phone, and either texts Luke or calls him a couple times a week. He values his time with his family almost as much as he values his time on the ice with his teammates. 

“And here we are,” Quinn announced as he pulled into the driveway of a beautiful two-story lake house. Excitement and anxiety filled your body, making your stomach turn. Your hands felt sweaty as Quinn jumped out of the driver’s seat and the front door opened at the same time. A boy with longish brown hair and a similar face to Quinn came rushing out of the house, barefoot and shirtless. 

You watched as the two men embraced each other in a hug, another boy walking out of the house. He was slightly taller with curly hair, but had those same dark eyebags as Quinn. You slipped out of the car, walking up to the three boys who were engaged in a conversation. It was like Quinn had a sixth sense for you being near him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side, easing some of your nerves. 

“And who might this be?” The long haired boy asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“This would be my girl,” Quinn looked at you, “Y/N,” Heat arose in your cheeks as he looked at you like you hung the stars and the moon. 

“Well I’m Jack,” The long haired boy said, holding his hand out to you. You chuckled nervously, shaking his hand, “And it's a pleasure to meet the girl that has my older brother drooling.” 

“I am not drooling,” Quinn shot back. 

“Basically are, Q,” The taller boy said, “I’m Luke.” 

You shook his hand too, “It’s nice to meet you guys, finally. Quinn has told me so much about you. It’s good to see your healing well, Jack.” 

“Thanks,” Jack nodded, “Been a long season but I’m glad I got this taken care of,” He massaged his shoulder, and you could see a slightly still puffy, pink scar, “But don’t think I can’t beat your ass at pool, Q.” 

“I’d like to see you try, Rowdy.” 

“Boys!” A woman called from the doorway. You looked around Luke to see a beautiful blonde woman standing there, her hands on her hips, “Let your brother and his girlfriend get settled before you start your pool tournament!” 

“Yes mom,” Both Jack and Luke said. Quinn chuckled as he pulled you towards the front door, letting Jack and Luke bicker about who was going to carry your bags in. 

You squeezed Quinn’s hand as you walked up to the matriarch of the Hughes family. You had read up on Ellen Hughes when you had met Quinn. She was an incredible woman, being a former hockey star herself and raising three incredible players. You felt another wave of anxiety rush over you as she looked you over, her eyes similar to Quinn taking you in. It felt like you were standing in front of a judge; a judge who was going to decide if you are worthy enough for her eldest son. 

“Hey mom,” Quinn greeted her, leaving your side to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Good to see ya.” 

“You too, baby,” Ellen said, and held her son at an arm’s length. She tsked, grabbing his chin and running a finger over the scar on his cheek, “That should’ve been a damn high stick.” 

Quinn chuckled, “Not much we can do about it now. Besides, it adds to my cool factor.” 

“Mhm,” Ellen nodded, and playfully rolled her eyes, looking back towards you. 

You mouth felt dry and you stepped forward, holding your hand out to Ellen, “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Hughes.” 

It was silent for a moment, probably not as long as you felt like it was, but it was long enough, before Ellen pulled you in for a hug. 

“Handshakes are for business partners and old men,” Ellen told you as she gave you a squeeze. And just like that, all the tension you felt had melted away. Ellen pulled back and held you at arms length, the same way she did with Quinn, “My son seemed to be hiding you away,” She looked at Quinn, “Why were you hiding her away? You talk about her all the time.” 

Quinn chuckled, grabbing you gently out of his mother’s hold, “Because I wanted to keep her for myself for just a bit longer. I know once I bring her home, I’ll be fighting for her attention.” 

“Well, start fighting now,” Ellen said and you chuckled, “C’mon, I just finished making some sangria. The boys can take your stuff to your room.” 

For several hours, you sat in the kitchen with Ellen, getting to know her. It started off with just small talk; asking where you are from, what are your parents' names, what do they do, what do you do for work, how did you meet Quinn. Then the conversation transitioned into how to make the perfect cheesecake, something Ellen was famous for in their neighborhood back in Michigan. Before you knew it, you and Ellen were making dinner side by side, while the boys sat out on the back patio with their dad, Jim, watching the grill. 

“The boys used to volun-tell me to make raspberry cheesecake for every single end of season potluck,” Ellen shook her head with a laugh, “Oh I wanted to strangle them sometimes, cause of course, they never told more than a day or two in advance.” 

“Oh of course not,” You giggled, “Quinn signed me up to bake cookies for one of the Canucks charity events. Told me at eight o'clock the night before that he needed me to make three dozen chocolate chip cookies.” 

“Boys,” Ellen playfully rolled her eyes. 

“What about boys?” Quinn asked as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Oh nothing,” Ellen said, wiping her hands on the towel thrown over her shoulder, “Y/N makes a better sous chef than you.” 

“Taking my job?” Quinn looked at you. You nodded your head, “Traitor. This is my off-season gig,” He reached over to grab a cube of watermelon, but you swatted his hand back, “Hey!” 

“This is for dinner,” You scolded him. Quinn walked around to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Quinn, your begging isn’t going to make me cave.” 

“Please,” Quinn whined, “I lost game seven.” 

“Two weeks ago!” 

“I’m still wounded!” 

“Fine,” You muttered, grabbing a cube of watermelon and turning in his arms to face him, “Because you lost game seven. . . two weeks ago,” You fed it to him and he smiled. 

“Thanks baby,” He kissed your cheek before heading back out to the grill. 

You shook your head, going back to placing balls of cookie dough on the baking sheet. It was quiet and you could feel Ellen’s stare on you as you worked, causing you to overthink every little movement you made. You paused, looking at the cookies before looking up at Ellen. 

“Did I mess something up?” You asked, fear rising in your body. 

“Hm? Oh, no,” Ellen shook her head, “It’s just. . . he never used to joke about the games he lost. In fact, it was almost like a taboo subject to bring up any losses around him. It’s. . . refreshing to see him like that.” 

You blushed and nodded, going back to work, a small smile on your face. 

Dinner went off without a hitch. Jim had grilled enough hamburgers, chicken and steak to feed a whole hockey team instead of just the six of you. You fell into comfortable silence as you watched the Hughes family interact with each other. It was like no time had passed by them at all, as if they weren’t spread across North America and in different time zones. You felt comfortable and at ease with them. And Quinn could sense that as he looked at you. 

“Feeling okay?” He asked, nodding towards your barely touched plate. 

“Yeah, I feel fine,” You smiled, picking up your fork, “Just. . . taking it all in,” You sighed. Quinn smiled and placed his hand on your thigh. 

Ellen and Jim shared a knowing look across the table, watching you and their son interact. They were both taken aback when Quinn first mentioned a girl in his life. Quinn was always so focused on hockey that personal relationships (unless they were centered around hockey) came second to him. It wasn’t that Ellen feared that her son was going to be alone forever, she just knew the kind of man he was. She knew that hockey wasn’t going to be around forever, that there would come a time where Quinn would retire from the game, and she wanted him to have someone who would be there for when that time came. She wanted him to have someone for when he came home from those long roadies or hard fought games. She wanted him to have the kind of partner and relationship that she has with Jim. 

When dinner was over, you and Quinn packed up the boat, putting a small cooler of seltzers and water, a couple of blankets and towels. Quinn gave you one of his sweatshirts to wear, knowing that it would get cold once the sun went all the way down. You sat next to Ellen as the boys and Jim, pushed away from the dock, ready to set out on a slow sunset cruise around the lake. Quinn took up the captain spot, while Jack and Jim navigated, Luke opted to sit next to you and his mom. 

“So, who is the best driver?” You asked, looking at the three Hughes boys. 

“Oh for sure me,” Jack scoffed. 

“You only have one functioning arm,” Luke pointed. 

“It wasn’t chopped off,” Jack rolled his eyes, “I can still use my hands.” 

“Whatever you say, Bucky Barnes.” 

You giggled and looked at Ellen, “They always like this?” 

“Got worse with age,” Ellen sighed, “I was a little worried when they all went into the NHL. I have known some families that the competition gets the better of them, and they don’t talk anymore. But not these three. I think if anything, they talk more now than they ever had.” 

You smiled, “Quinn talks about them all the time. He has me record their games so he can watch them back after his.” 

Ellen’s heart swelled at your words, “He told them about you first,” You blushed, “Jack can’t keep a secret to save his life, and he texted me asking if I knew that Quinn had a girlfriend and I said no, and then Jack launched into this whole story that Quinn told them about you,” Ellen chuckled, “When Quinn told us about you, I told him I already knew.” 

“What did he say then?” You asked. 

“He said ‘of course Jack told you’,” You laughed and Ellen smiled, “It meant a lot to Jack that you sent him flowers after his surgery, and Luke when you sent some after his Calder nomination. They won’t admit that, but I know it.” 

“They mean a lot to him,” You gestured towards your boyfriend and his brothers who were sitting at the front of the boat, “So they mean a lot to me too.” 

Quinn glanced at you from where he sat, a smile on his face as you talked to his parents. His parents were two of the most important people in his life. He valued their opinion on almost everything, so it meant something to see you so easily getting along with them. His heart felt warm when he heard your laughter at a, no doubt, embarrassing story his dad was telling. 

“So when are you going to propose?” Jack said, pulling Quinn out of his trance. 

“What?” 

“You got a ring yet? I bet you got a ring already.” 

“Huh?” 

“You’re going to marry her!” Jack exclaimed, “And don’t even lie, I can see it. I have a sixth sense for these things.” 

“Yeah, and I talk to ghosts,” Quinn rolled his eyes. But his younger brother was right. Even though you and him had only been dating for six months, Quinn had already imagined proposing to you, getting married, buying a house, and hopefully, having a family. Quinn had never felt this way about someone before, and he would be lying if he wasn’t a bit scared of his feelings, but one look at you and all those fears melted away. 

“Whatever man,” Jack waved him off, “As long as I get to be the best man, I won’t complain.” 

“And who says you will be the best man?” Luke asked, “If anything, I think it would be me. I never broke his xbox controller.” 

“Luke, you’re literally like seven,” Jack scoffed, “It won’t be you.” 

“I’m twenty.” 

The sun was completely down by the time you guys had made it back to the dock. Quinn expertly parked the boat in the hoist, and helped you out, before raising it back up. Jack and Luke had run back to the house, shouting something about getting a fire started, Ellen and Jim walking hand in hand behind them. You stood on the dock, taking in the dark lake in the final strands of light from the sky. 

“No wonder you guys run away to this place at the end of the season,” You said, “It’s so peaceful here. I love it and I’ve only been here a couple of hours.” 

Quinn chuckled, “It feels like this is the one place on earth where I can be just Quinn Hughes. Not the hockey player or the captain of the Canucks. Just Quinn.” 

You turned around, draping your arms around his neck, “Well I like it, Just Quinn,” He smiled at you, his hands resting on your hips, “Thank you for bringing me here. For letting me into your life.” 

“Of course,” Quinn’s voice was full of sincerity as his thumbs brushed over your hip bones, “Thank you for being in my life. You’ve made me a better person.” You tilted your head up slightly, placing a kiss on his lips. One of his hands cupped your cheek, while the other one tangled in your hair, deepening the kiss. When you pulled apart for air, you rested your forehead against his, wanting to just stand in his embrace for a moment longer. 

“Hey lovebirds!” You broke apart, like two teenagers being caught by your parents. But instead of your parents, it was Jack, “Quit sucking face! We’re making smores!” 

“He is such a child,” Quinn huffed. You laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the house. 

“Yes but you love him.” 

“Unfortunately, I do.” 

You sat on Quinn’s lap, your legs dangling off the side of the chair, by the fire, as Jack and Luke argued about how toasted a marshmallow should be for the perfect smore. Ellen and Jim sat across the firepit from you and Quinn, enjoying having their kids back home. Your eyes were growing heavier by the minute, the heat from the fire, being in Quinn’s embrace and the exhaustion from traveling finally catching up to you. Quinn could feel your body growing heavier and heavier with sleep, his hand running up and down your back, a soothing motion that he knew would lull you to sleep. 

“Tired?” He asked, looking at you. 

“A bit,” You yawned, “But I don’t want to go to bed yet, having too much fun.” 

“Just close your eyes,” Quinn whispered. You nodded, nuzzling your face into his neck. He leaned his cheek on top of your head. It wasn’t very long after that, that Quinn could feel your breathing start to slow, until you were sleeping in his arms. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“She’s a keeper Quinn,” Jim said, raising his can of beer towards his son, “She’s gotta be a special one to deal with you.” 

“Yeah,” Quinn said, his eyes still on your sleeping frame, “I’m not letting her go anytime soon.”

note: I am thinking of creating a tag list. Is that something y'all would want? also, requests are open!!

[deepestnightcolor]

☾ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏ ☽

ᴀ/ɴ: HERE I AM WITH ANOTHER SAM SMUT! I seriously don't know what happened here, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Just a small disclaimer: don't go around hitting people, kids. Use your big words for big emotions!

Thank you for your time and all your love!~

PS: bonus points to whoever finds the tiny easter egg.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x afab!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 4045 words.

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: weird, drunk guy hitting on the reader. Sam getting protective and physical. Guard dog Sammy. Mentions of blood, the taste of blood, and bruises.

Cowgirl position, making love bites, dirty talk, cream pie, Sam is a little obsessed in his fuck-drunken mind, cock-piercing, pierced tongue.

Believing in Sam had always come naturally to you. The moment he showed you his guitar and the way he could handle it, you knew he had potential. That is why you never minded coming to his band practice; you enjoyed cheering him on, giving his cheek a kiss after each session and smiling at him, praising him in a gentle voice.

Sam loved having you as an audience. Everything about you made him want to be better. He taught himself your favourite songs, just so he was able to see your face light up when you recognized the melody. Sharing his passion with you was easier for him than with anyone else. At first, he had thought your personality was the reason for that, but when you kissed his cheek after one of his practices and the first thing he had felt was the wish that you would kiss his lips instead, he began to consider that there perhaps was more than just the trust he showed you.

After all, whenever Sam had doubts, he would come to you.

Whenever he didn’t know what to play, he would come to you.

Whenever he felt like he had to show someone a new song he taught himself, he would come to you.

That is why no one was surprised that he would come to you once his band had landed its first gig in Zuzu City. Blue eyes glistening with excitement, his whole body trembling while he tried to refrain from jumping up and down as he relayed the news. You laughed with him, hugging the blond tightly to your chest. “I knew it was only a matter of time,” you told him. And he believed it.

That was also the reason you stood in front of a stage in Zuzu city, wearing your most adorable outfit you knew was one of Sam’s favourites, given the way his gaze lingered whenever you had it on. In fact, he had given you the expected reaction when you had stepped up to the bus; first squishing you to his toned chest, just to stare once you had pulled away. His voice had been hoarse as he complimented you, telling you that you were an absolute beauty tonight. You had smiled at him, your fingers running through your hair as you leaned towards his ear just to whisper some words that would spin around Sam’s head for the whole ride. “You look deliciously hot as well, Sammy.” 

Deliciously hot, huh? He had never heard you call anyone else like that. Did that mean something? That was entirely possible, wasn’t it?

The way you stared up at him while he was on stage definitely made him wonder. But he was not innocent, either, because he stared right back. Each song he announced, he announced for you. Each special solo was dedicated to you. Each look with hooded “fuck me”-eyes that seemingly danced over the crowd was dedicated to you. To Sam, this whole fucking show was for you. And you drank it all up.

In fact, you were enthralled enough you didn’t even notice the guy who pushed up to you as Sam thanked the crowd. All that mattered was Sam, and his voice whispering a good night to the crowd. His blue eyes landed on you again, and you took the chance to smile at him, blowing him a kiss.

“You alone here?” a voice next to you suddenly slurred over the noise of the crowd, which meant that its owner must have been incredibly close. You turned your head slowly, meeting a guy’s face. He seemed drunk already, and the grin he gave you certainly wasn’t one of good intentions. You cleared your throat and took a step back, scratching your neck. “No, no really.”

“Huh, that’s smart for a pretty girl like you.”

 You gave an awkward smile, not wanting to tempt the stranger into attempting any further conversation as you turned around, trying to make your way to the bar. You had exchanged two sentences, and you were already desperate to escape the situation.

You were able to make it to the bar and ordered a drink that you could down before finding Sam, when suddenly, a hand landed on your hip, using the leverage to spin you around. A gasp left your lips, your muscles tensing when you saw the drunken man again.

“Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you. Somebody should teach you manners.”

You grit your teeth, trying to squirm free of his grasp. His hands were sweaty and felt uncomfortable – disgusting - even through the fabric of your clothes.

You had never been in a situation like this, not in all the years you had lived in Zuzu. Your eyes trailed to the stage automatically, trying to make out the blond hair. Maybe he would catch your gaze and-

“I am talking to you,” the voice snarled, making your attention snap back to him. His hand was still on you, and you wanted to get it away from you.

“Fuck off,” you hissed, squirming again and finally being able to get rid of his hand.

“That is no way to talk to someone. Especially for a pretty girl like you. Maybe I should take you home and-“

“Didn’t you fucking hear? She told you to fuck off.” A familiar voice, a voice that felt safe.  Sam had emerged from the crowd, pushing past the guy to stand next to you.

“And who are you?”

“Her fucking boyfriend. Also telling you to fuck. Off.”

One of the blond’s arms was quick to snake around your waist, pulling you into his side with a quick tug. Again, a hand was on your hip, but this time you felt much more comfortable. Much better.

The happy glint that had been in his eyes while he was on stage had vanished and was replaced by something dark. Something you had never seen cloud those pretty blue eyes before. It almost seemed possessive.

The stranger cleared his throat, and for a moment, it seemed like he would retreat without any other word.

But then, everything went down fast.

“Fine. No one wants a cheap slut like you, anyways.” The drunk man hadn’t even finished spitting on the ground in front of his feet before a fist connected with his jaw. Sam, the man who played the SpongeBob theme song when bored and loved the minions had thrown the first punch, and a good one at that. The sheer power behind it made his opponent stumble backward, the blond using the opportunity to now step in front of you.

“Don’t. You. Call. Her. That!” he growled, his fist already lifted for the next hit. The guy, despite the level of alcohol that he probably had in his system, was fast, though. He shot back up and allowed his knuckles to meet Sam’s face, but his aim was off. His head knocked with a light cracking sound to the side. You let out a loud gasp, and desperately tugged on the man’s shirt, trying to get him away from your harasser. “Sam. Come on. Let’s go.”

But Sam had started something. And he would finish it. You were absolutely shocked as he aggressively shoved the guy, who now had blood on his knuckle. He used the distraction he had created to hit his face again, this time sending him to the ground with a grunting sound. Trying to defend himself while falling he scratched Sam, but it seemed the guitarist didn’t even mind. Instead, he straddled him and gripped him by the collar of his shirt, staring right into his eyes.

“Never. And I mean fucking never touch her again. I will find you. I will break your hands and shove them so far down your throat they will come out of your ass again.”

“Sam!” You cried, which finally got his attention. He let go of the shirt, dropping him in his own spit, giving the pathetic figure a snarl. Without another word, Sam gently took your wrist, leading you toward the backstage area where he had gotten ready. Once he finally turned around to settle you on one of the chairs, knelt down in front of you to make sure you were okay, you could see what the impact had done to him. His carefully styled hair was a mess; there were scratches on his cheek, and his pretty pink lips were busted open. You found it pretty unfair that he had just gotten into a fight and still looked hot. Maybe even hotter.

“Are you okay? What a disgusting-“

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips. They were so pretty. And he had gone all out just to protect you. You just had to kiss him, didn’t you?

You couldn’t resist anymore, your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulled him in. The blond winced at the sting when your lips collided, but by Yoba, did your hands feel good against the heated-up skin of his neck. He would have been stupid if he hadn’t kissed back; and who was he to deny your tongue entrance to his mouth, anyway?

It would have been a shame if he didn’t suck on your tongue like a desperate man, and fuck did your lips taste good.

Blood and saliva mixed together, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you let your hands trace through his hair, giving a few blond strands a soft tug. Sam grunted, getting on his long legs without breaking the kiss, allowing himself to drop down on the sofa while pulling you towards him. You took the chance and straddled him, only pulling away to kiss down his jawline.

“You know how long I have wanted to kiss you?” The guitarist murmured, allowing his head to dip to the side to give you more access. “Ever since you first played that stupid song to annoy Sebastian and Abigail,” you answered bluntly, kissing down his neck. You knew Sam’s face would bruise up tomorrow, so what were a few more? You wanted this fucking man.

Fangs sinking in the flesh of his neck, you sucked on the newfound redness, shiver running down your spine when you heard the deep groan rumble through his chest. Feeling you react to the sound he made gave him a sudden boost of confidence, large hands trailing down your back just to grip the flesh of your ass with both of his hands. He gave it a good squeeze, not being able to help himself but moan. You felt so good already, and you weren’t even undressed.Yet.

“Sam…I…Fuck, I want you.”

That certainly was an understatement by now. You needed Sam. Given the pulsing you felt beneath you, you were pretty sure you would get what you needed, though.

His fingers were now clawing at your butt as he pulled you in closer, his busted lips smashing into yours again. This time he didn’t even flinch at the feeling; this time he was nothing short of greedy. Shoving his tongue past your pearly whites, he explored your mouth, trying to get to taste more of you. You moaned for him when he sucked on your tongue again, his piercing rubbing against the muscle. The heat that had begun pooling between your legs made you shift around his lap, only to be rewarded by the blond bucking up his hips in an attempt to chase the feeling. Both of you moaned into one another’s mouths, and you were sure you had never craved something this much in life. Sam’s hands had left your butt now, fingers working on unbuttoning your pants. His fingers were skilled, so the small button keeping the shorts together definitely wasn’t much of an obstacle. In fact, you could feel his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties faster than you could blink. Not that you minded. Quite the opposite; while still enjoying Sam’s tongue dominating yours, you lifted your hips so he could pull down the fabric that separated his slender fingers from your heat.

“That’s a good girl,” Sam cooed in your mouth, making you moan quietly. How could a man have you so wrapped around his finger without even touching your pussy yet?

That quickly changed when the calloused pad of his index finger found your clit, gently nudging the hardening bundle of nerves. “So wet for me already, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your brain not able to produce words that would even come close to explaining that he would be able to make you just as wet by only getting naked.

Your hips rutted against his finger, and in turn, his hardening cock. The blond sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, the need to get you naked and feel you against, scratch that, around his drooling dick growing in the pit of his stomach. But Sam, ever the gentleman, instead allowed his finger to slip through your folds, circling your needy little entrance with ease before dipping in just the tip.

Your reaction was immediate. You arched in your back and tried to press down your hips to coax him in a little more, but Sam, staring at you in absolute awe, removed his finger whenever you attempted. How could one person be so hot? How the hell could he have gone so long without touching you?

“Sam, please. Give me something,” you begged, licking your lips as you looked down at him. Sam, giving you a toothy grin, finally gave in and pushed a single finger inside of you, enjoying your lip being dragged in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning his name out loud. His finger thrusted up inside of you, and just to give you a better idea of what was awaiting you he bucked up his hips.

The blond took his time, only adding a second finger after you begged him to, scissoring them within you to coax out more of the moans that sounded like music to his ear. He himself had to dig the nails of his other hand inside of the couch to ground himself enough as to not whimper and moan just from touching you. However, when your hands set into motion to remove your shirt and bra, allowing those fucking pretty tits to bounce free, it was game over. A low moan left his swollen lips as he stared at your chest, shamelessly ogling them. You could have sworn you saw his tongue loll out of his mouth, some drool dripping from the muscle, but a third finger stretching your drooling cunt distracted you.

“Sam, please. Can I ride you? Pretty please.”

He was dreaming, probably. Or he had smoked too much weed and was imagining this; how else could this be happening? But your hips rutting against his fingers that were coated in your slick were telling a different story. And even if all of this wasn’t real, he would enjoy it while it lasted.

“Sam? Please, baby. Please let me ride this cock…Fuck, you are so hard already. I can feel it through your pants…”

The whine that left you when he removed his fingers from you absolutely tore his heart into shreds, but he needed to free his dick. Otherwise, it would have ripped his pants apart, given that pretty begs that left your sweet mouth oh so easily.

He shifted you around in his lap, pulling down his pants and boxers just enough for his erection to spring free. The skin was hot, and you just had to gawk at him. Sam was big and girthy. And at that-

“You got your dick pierced?” You whispered, but it pretty much sounded like a whimpered moan. The blond grinned a little, tongue trailing over his teeth.

“Mhhhm…You like it?”

Fuck. You could have had an orgasm on the spot, by doing nothing else but imagining the pierced tip to bully into you.

Sam opened his mouth to tease you just a little more when he suddenly felt your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding his drooling tip to your entrance. He was absolutely hypnotized, watching his tip kiss your sloppy hole and the way your thighs twitched. “Fuuuuck…” he breathed as you allowed the tip to enter you. You were insanely wet, and your cunt greeted him with another gush of juices.

The blond decided he could have died right then and there and his life would have been complete; that was at least what he thought until you pushed and pushed and pushed. He just couldn’t take his eyes away from his dick vanishing in your desperate pussy, centimetre by centimetre. His mouth was hanging open, and now you definitely could see his tongue hanging out, his chest heaving and falling quickly as the man who had fearlessly thrown punches before was now whimpering for you.

You yourself weren’t in much better shape.

The metal pushing against your wall the more you sat down on him; his sheer length splitting you open, it all had you a babbling mess. Telling him how good he felt, how big he was, how much you had wanted this. Sam’s hands were pawing at your hips, visibly straining himself from not just fucking into you, fucking everything he couldn’t say right up your cunt. But you needed a moment, he knew by the way your walls clung to him, the way you shifted around. You were so fucking precious, and he wanted you to know. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking onto your skin once he found your collarbones. His finger had taken its place on your clit again, flicking the bud gently as his blue eyes peered at you again. His eyes had the same look in them as they had before, just this time they were also filled with silent worship. This look alone gave you to strength to lift your hips, just to drop them down, allowing him to bottom out inside of you again. The two of you moaned in unison, and for some reason, you couldn’t imagine a life without this dick anymore.

Your hips rutted back and forth as your lips found Sam’s again, the kiss you shared desperate and wet. But neither of you cared as moans spilled from your connected lips. His pre-cum was mixing with your wetness, causing sloppy sounds whenever your walls completely wrapped around him. “You are so fucking pretty on my cock like this, baby. Does it feel good, huh? Like me filling you up? Like bein’ my good girl?”

You wanted to answer, you really did. But your open mouth only let moans of his name pass, so you resorted to a quick nod. You placed your hands on his arms, nails digging into the flesh as waves of pleasure hit you with every single movement of your hips.

“S…Sam,” you rambled, head thrown back. You started to full on bounce on his lap again, your tilted back position allowing him a full view of those jumping tits of yours. They were simply too hard to resist; his head dipped down and placed kisses all over the heated-up skin until his lips finally caught on of your nipples. He eagerly sucked on it, his hand carefully squeezing the other. Couldn’t let one of these pretty tits go without attention now, could he?

The breathless moan that entered his ears stimulated his brain in a way he couldn’t describe. Something feral was awoken within him; the events of the night flashing in front of his inner eye. You were his now, right? His pretty girl, and he needed to show you just that. His hips snapped up quite automatically, while his mouth switched to the other nipple. His finger was still massaging circles into your clit, making your vision go blurry.

Sam and you hadn’t ever done as much as hug, and still, he knew exactly how to touch you. Your nails this time found his chest through his shirt as you tried to keep up with the fast pace he had immediately picked up, your whole body bouncing with his tip bullying up into you whenever you sat down on him. His piercing was rubbing against your walls, massaging them just like they were sucking off his dick. You were pretty sure you had never been this wet before, and you were even more sure that Sam’s crotch was drenched by now.

Sam apparently tried to break you apart as his hips kept snapping up at a rough pace, neither caring about the droplets of wetness falling from your cunt, nor about the way he was whimpering and begging for you with his voice.

The sounds that his vocal chords produced became more high-pitched as his dick twitched and pulsed inside of you. His cock abused your cunt, and you were all for it. Honestly, you would have cried if he wasn’t fucking you like his name was written all over you.

Your orgasm was nearing, you could feel it tickling every nerve of your body, giving you the feeling you had to pull away. But he just felt so perfect. So right.

Trying to voice your nearing orgasm was definitely harder than you had expected. All that you could come up with was his name again. Your tongue felt heavy, like you were drunk. And in some way, you were. Drunk on his dick, his smell, the feeling of his tongue and mouth messing with your tits, him.

Sam didn’t feel much different. He could have sworn that he was about to burst at the seams. You felt heavenly, delicate, and yet like you needed to be pounded into oblivion. He just couldn’t get enough of your tits in his face, of the way you sounded. You were his favourite song now.

“Gonna cum, princess,” he breathed in the valley of your breasts, holding onto your waist to help you pick up your pace. You were sobbing his name as you felt your orgasm tearing at your insides. You wanted to warn him, you really did, but the cry that left you reached your tongue faster than any words – it was unholy. Lewd, and desperate, full of arousal as your orgasm made your body quake.

Your body was shaking on him, the release you felt paralyzing you, and yet it only turned Sam on more. His hips fucked into you ruthlessly, metal of his cock piercing bumping along you as his tip kissed your cervix.

“FUCK!” He snapped, teeth sinking into your tit as a violent orgasm made his cock twitch, spurts of cum painting your walls white.

But that wasn’t enough for Sam. He needed it deeper. He needed you to feel it on your way home. In bed. With heavy breathing, he put his feet on the couch and while holding you down, fucked up into you.

Strained sobs left your lips as your sensitive cunt was abused so mercilessly, but those whimpers that filled the room and came from those beautiful lips; they almost made you beg for more.

The blond only stopped when his hands on your waist began to shake, just like his legs. His thrusts became sloppy and less precise, hips stuttering and losing force until they completely halted. The two of you sat in silence, your head on his shoulder while his arms held you close and secure.

It took you several moments before you shared a silent gaze, your lips meeting in another kiss. This one was much slower, sweeter, even. You still could taste the blood on his tongue, and you still didn’t mind.

When you pulled away, you could see that Sam looked even more beaten now. The scratches had swollen just like his lips, and a bruise was starting to form on his jaw. His neck just looked as bad; love bites scattered all around the pale skin.

The blond’s hand reached out to gently tuck a strand of your hair back, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

You gave a shy smile back, sighing slowly.

“You shouldn’t have fought with someone because of me.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head.

“For you? I’d happily get beat to smithereens.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

just gonna put this here while its fresh in my mind but since lando has been wildin and wont stfu about OF... what if reader does OF 😏 faceless and lando makes a cameo once in a while😵‍💫😵‍💫 OKAY BYE WHY IS HE LIKE THIS LATELY

Your Biggest Fan || Ln4

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, masturbating, only fans WC: 1.3k

One || Two || SMAU || Three

You were a solo act, that was your choice. Everyone who subscribed to your account knew the deal despite offers from some very big names in the industry - you were happy on your own - you couldn’t risk getting caught. Your parents would surely disown you, but you liked the danger that came with your side hustle. 

You could still remember the day he subscribed, top tier no less. The username was generic and he kept his camera turned off but that wasn’t unusual - you preferred to keep your face hidden too. A selection of toys lay across your bed and he hummed indecisively while he internally debated which one to watch you play with this time.

“If I was there, I know what I would do,” he mused, his voice dropping in a way that had your stomach flipping.

You settled amongst the pile of pillows surrounding you, keeping your face above the view of the camera, and teased your nipples while you patiently waited for his choice. “Yeah, what would you do to me?”

Your touch ran further down your body and you spread your legs for him. His breathing changed to slower, deeper intakes and you wished he had his camera on so you could see the effect you had on him. 

“Fuck, I would fill you so good, babygirl,” he groaned. “I would make you cum harder than any of those toys can. You don’t even have one big enough to stretch you like I could.”

Your pussy clenched at the threat and you grabbed the biggest dildo from the pile, running the tip through your slit. You moaned as you pressed it to your entrance and it slowly slid home, filling you completely as you pumped it all the way to the base. “This one stretches me pretty good, big boy.”

“Not as good as I could.”

“Brave words for someone who can’t prove it,” you dared. 

There was some shuffling before his camera lit up and half of your screen filled with a toned stomach, muscled thighs and a dick that put your toy to shame. You sat up straighter, wanting a closer look and salivated at the way he stroked himself, his thumb and fingers not even touching because of the girth.

“Fuck me,” you exhaled longingly.

“Don’t tempt me, babygirl.” He dragged his thumb through the bead of precum and his hand disappeared from view as he licked it clean, something you were completely jealous of. “Now turn around, I want to see you fuck yourself and pretend it’s me.”

You did as you were told, more than eager now that you had the image to use. You got on your hands and knees, reaching between your legs to pump the dildo in time to his strokes, moaning in unison at the sight. Wanting to give him the best show, you shimmied back so he had the best view of the silicone cock stretching your pussy.

“That’s it, come to daddy.” His filthy words surrounded you and your back arched as you fucked yourself for him. You were nearing your orgasm and the sight of his cum spilling over his fist and abs threw you into oblivion. His urging kept you going, even when your orgasm tried to squeeze the toy from your pussy, you kept stuffing it back in until the pressure grew too much and you fell panting to the bed, the blanket wet from the fluid that had gushed from you.

“Holy shit, babygirl, that was fucking amazing,” he praised as you struggled to catch your breath. “Fuck, I have to go. Same time next week?”

“Only if you have your camera on again, big boy,” you half joked, half wishing he would.

“For you, babygirl, of course,” he chuckled and wiped up his mess with a green and white shirt you were sure you had seen the logo for before. “I’m your biggest fan, I would do anything you said.”

“I’ll have to remember that, big boy. See you next week.”

You ended the feed and closed the site down for the night before cleaning up the toys and changing your bed sheets. You had never squirted like you had with L404 and you briefly wondered if you should invest in some waterproof bedding. 

It was late by the time you had showered and settled back into the fresh sheets but you weren’t able to sleep. With nothing better to do, you logged into Twitch and browsed the Just Chatting category for some white noise, eventually coming across a streamer with nearly 20k fellow viewers.

You were a little disappointed to see it wasn’t Just Chatting but playing Fortnite and you nearly left the stream. You weren’t interested in trying to sleep to the sound of gunfire. Before you could exit, you heard the voice. It was one you were intimate with, one that sent goosebumps prickling over your skin.

“Come to daddy,” Lando, that was his name, said. He laughed with his friends he was playing the game with and they joked while oblivious to the epiphany you were having. “Ohhh, doggy man.”

The handsome man in the tiny square of your screen was L404, your biggest fan. 

Hey big boy, you sent to the chat and watched it get swamped by the hundreds of other comments. 

“Ha, mate, someone called you big boy.”

Lando’s head snapped away from the game and he was quickly shot but he didn’t care as he scrolled through the chat to find your username. It was different enough that it wouldn’t be linked to your Only Fans but had enough similarities that he recognised the name. “Shit, I gotta go. Something’s come up.”

He logged off without a goodbye and the comments blew out with disappointment and questions.

Suddenly, your email pinged with a new message: L404 was requesting another private chat. 

“Hey big boy,” you answered as you sat up in bed, grateful you were wearing a cute lace babydoll nightie. “Back so soon?”

His camera was off but now that you had seen his face you could only imagine the confusion on it.  “Uh, did you…what you saw…did you…” 

You giggled at the loss of his confidence, such a stark change from how he was an hour ago. “You’ll have to finish your question for me to answer, Lando.”

“Fuck.” His camera came on and you had a much larger picture of him. He wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous. You desperately wanted to run your hands through his curls and tug on them, maybe while they were between your legs. “No one can know, please, it will ruin my career.”

Taking a deep breath, you tipped the camera back and looked him in the eyes. Realisation dawned on his face and his lips parted in shock. “Guess we both know each other’s secret now.”

“You…you’re…”

“Yup, that’s me.” Like most rich families, your parents had moved to Monaco for the tax haven it provided and you had fallen in love with the province too, opting to buy your own place in the city when you left home.

“So…” You bit your lip as the idea danced on your tongue and Lando remained in a state of shock. “I remember someone threatening to stretch a certain part of me…”

Lando swallowed deeply before licking his dry lips. “On camera?”

It was your turn to think before nodding. “If you’re up for it, I can make an exception to the rule. We might need to practice a few times, you know, compatibility wise.”

He nodded, the thought growing more and more interesting and he palmed his erection beneath the desk. “Practice sounds good. Tonight?”

The idea of sleep was long gone and your nipples were clearly visible through the lace, the stiff peaks begging for attention. “Come on then, big boy,” you teased as you sent him your address. “I’ll see you soon.”

Click here for part two.

[itneverendshere]

If you ever heard the song “Insecure” by Jazmine Sullivan, I was wondering if you could read a fic with rafe about that

it’s Like toxic!rafe and reader

INSECURE

PAIRING: bsf!toxic!rafe x kook!reader warnings: emotional manipulation; self-hatred; toxic!rafe.

If someone asked you how it started, you couldn’t even tell them.

It was Rafe Cameron you were talking about.

The guy was a walking red flag, all swagger, all ego, and too much money for his own good. He had the type of face that made you forgive him even when you didn’t want to. And trust, you'd tried to not want to. But that never worked out, obviously.

It’s not like you thought you could change him or whatever. You were not one of those girls. You just...thought you’d be different. Special. Maybe you got a little caught up in that fairy tale bullshit sometimes. Like, maybe if you were the one who held his attention long enough, maybe he’d stop messing around and actually be serious.

Actually see you.

Spoiler alert: That’s not how it worked

You learned that real quick with Rafe.

It wasn’t even two months in before you found some girl's scrunchie in his Jeep.

You were leaving the club, both tipsy, and you slid into the passenger seat when you spotted it in the back. You know how girls leave stuff behind like it’s a game? Like it’s their way of marking territory? That scrunchie was practically a neon sign that read, "I was here."

You picked it up, twirled it around your finger, and waited for him to notice.

He didn’t.

“What's this?” You finally asked, not even looking at him, just staring at that stupid pink scrunchie like it had all the answers you needed.

Rafe glanced over at it for half a second before shrugging, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Dunno. Probably Sarah’s.”

Sarah Cameron, his sister, the golden girl of the family. His excuse every time something came up.

“It’s not Sarah’s.” You weren't buying it. You knew that girl’s style inside and out, and there’s no way in hell she’d be caught dead wearing something this basic. You tossed it into the backseat, feeling your blood boil.

Of course he’d still treat you like shit, why care about a lifelong friendship, right?

Rafe rolled his eyes. He didn’t even have the decency to act like he cared that you were pissed.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, his voice dripping with that condescension that always made you feel stupid for caring. “It’s just a fucking scrunchie.”

But it wasn’t. Not to you.

See, the thing with Rafe is, he never said he was yours. You never had some grand conversation about exclusivity, about titles, none of that. But that’s how it was with him. He’d show up at your door, flash that killer smile, and you’d forget every reason why he wasn’t good for you.

And yet, there was this constant feeling in your chest.

Tight, twisted, like a knot you couldn’t untangle.

It wasn’t just the girls or the scrunchies or the way he’d disappear for days, leaving you with nothing but unanswered texts and half-assed explanations. It was you. How you felt around him. You were constantly second-guessing yourself, wondering if you were enough, if you were what he wanted. Things were so different before.

If you were even on his radar when you weren't right in front of him. And that feeling, that deep, gnawing insecurity? It was starting to mess with your head.

A week after the scrunchie incident, you found yourself at another one of those parties on Figure Eight. The kind where we Kooks pretend we're so much better than everyone else but still drink cheap beer out of red solo cups. It was the usual crowd—Topper, Kelce, a few other guys you barely knew, and, of course, Rafe.

You were wearing this black mini dress you knew he liked, the one that hugged your body in all the right places. You wanted to feel good tonight, like you could make him see you the way you needed him to. It was pathetic, but you thought if you played your cards right, maybe you'd get more than just half-hearted attention.

But then, halfway through the night, you saw her.

This girl—some random pogue you'd never seen before—leaning against the bar, laughing at something Rafe was saying. And it wasn’t just that he was talking to her. No, it was the way he was looking at her. That look he used to give you when you first started whatever this was between you two.

Like she was the most interesting thing in the room. Like she was the only thing. Even if she was wearing that cheap, threadbare tank top and worn-out jean shorts. The kind of clothes that screamed she probably worked at some surf shop or waited tables just to get by. And here Rafe was, cozying up to her like she was something special. Like she wasn’t just another girl he’d forget about tomorrow. Making yourself compare to someone like her.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, your palms sweaty as you watched them. You could feel your heart sinking, your gut screaming at you to just leave. But you didn’t. You just stood there, like an idiot, frozen in place, watching him slide his hand up the back of her arm, a move so smooth, so practiced, it made you feel sick.

You hated this. Hated yourself. Hated that you let him have this kind of power over you.

Your mind did that annoying thing where it flashed back to the first time you slept with him. Like it wanted to torture you with every little detail of how you got here. You’d both been drunk, of course. But not blackout drunk—just the kind of buzzed where everything feels a little too easy, a little too warm.

You’d known Rafe forever, been best friends since you were kids. He was practically a part of you, or at least, he used to be. You trusted him, which is why when he showed up at your place that night, laughing about something stupid, you didn’t think twice when he crashed on your couch.

Only he didn’t stay on the couch.

You remember how he looked at you from across the room, that cocky smile he always wore, but softer somehow. Like he wasn’t quite sure if he was going to make a move. He’d leaned in, brushed his hand against your leg—casual, but not really. Your heart had pounded in your chest, but you didn’t stop him.

You didn’t want to stop him.

And when he kissed you? You were done for. All those years of being “just friends” went right out the window. It was like all the tension between you, all the unspoken stuff, just exploded. You were in his lap before you even realized what was happening, tugging at his shirt, pulling him closer.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything—that it was just this one-time thing, a moment of weakness.

But Rafe… he knew how to get to you.

He made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered, even though you weren’t. You were just there, convenient. But at the time? You didn’t see it like that. You thought maybe this would change everything. That maybe the Rafe you’d grown up with was still in there somewhere, buried under all the coke, the girls, the chaos.

You were wrong.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. And the worst part was, you couldn’t even blame the girl. She probably had no idea who Rafe really was. She just saw the guy with the money, the smile, the charm.

Your throat tightened as he leaned in, saying something that made her laugh again. That same laugh he’d once pulled out of you. God, how could you be so stupid? You knew what he was. Hell, you’d known for years. But still, you’d let yourself get wrapped up in him, like maybe you’d be the exception. Like maybe you’d matter.

But you didn’t. You were just another girl he’d sweet-talk, mess with, and then forget about the second something new and shiny came along.

Topper came up beside you, nudging you with his shoulder. “You good?”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the scene in front of you and forcing a smile. “Yeah, totally. Just need another drink.” Your voice was light, casual, but inside, you were falling apart.

He gave you a weird look, but shrugged it off.

Guess everyone knew how you felt about Rafe. You weren't exactly subtle about it.

You downed another vodka soda, the burn doing nothing to numb the ache in your chest, and made a beeline for the back of the house.

You needed air. You needed to breathe.

You barely made it past the kitchen before you felt someone grab your wrist, pulling you into the hallway. You turned, expecting it to be some random guy, but no—it was Rafe. His grip was tight, a little too tight, and you could see the annoyance in his eyes.

“You’re leaving already?”

Rafe’s grip on your wrist was too tight, but it wasn’t like that surprised you anymore. It was always like this with him—one second, things were fine, and the next, you were stuck in this same stupid cycle of feeling small and stupid for caring.

“I just need some air,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but of course, he didn’t let go. His eyes flicked across your face like he was trying to figure out if you were actually upset or just being “dramatic,” which, spoiler alert, you weren’t.

“You’re not seriously mad about that girl, right?” His voice dripped with amusement, like your feelings were some kind of joke to him. He leaned in, lowering his voice like that was supposed to make you feel better. “It’s not that deep.”

It's hard to remember this used to be your best friend, before you two started whatever this game was and he decided you just weren't that girl to him anymore, just another body he could call up when he needed to get laid.

You stared at him, mouth dry, trying to figure out why you were even still standing here.

“Really?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Because it kinda feels like it is.” You finally yanked your wrist free, stepping back just enough to get some space. “Do you even care? Like, do you even care that you’re making me feel like this?” You hated how your voice cracked, how vulnerable you sounded.

“We’ve just having fun,” Rafe just stared at you like you were overreacting. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Why are you always making this such a thing?”

Fun. God, that word made your stomach turn.

Fun for who? You knew what he meant, but hearing it out loud still stung. You’d been holding onto this hope, this ridiculous idea that maybe you were different, maybe he cared more. But it was so clear now. This wasn’t a relationship. This wasn’t even close.

“It’s a thing because it is a thing,” you said, voice shaky but steady enough. “I can’t just turn off my feelings like you do, Rafe. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when I see you flirting with other girls like I don’t exist.”

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “You’re making this complicated. I never said we were serious. You knew what this was from the start.”

And there it was.

The slap of reality you’d been avoiding for way too long. He never said you were his, never promised you anything more than what he gave—a few nights here and there, some attention when it was convenient for him, but nothing real.

And you knew that. But it didn’t stop you from wanting more.

“But you still keep me around, don’t you?” you said quietly, mostly talking to yourself at this point. “You keep me close when it’s easy, when it’s fun for you. And I let you.”

God, that hurt to admit out loud. You let him make you feel like this. Over and over.

Rafe just stood there, completely unfazed. Like this was no big deal. He shrugged, and it made you want to scream. “If you’re so unhappy, then just leave.”

You stared at him, feeling your heart twist in your chest. How did it always come back to this? Him pushing you away like you didn’t mean anything. Like you weren’t standing right here, hurting. You searched his face for something—anything—that showed he actually gave a damn.

But there was nothing.

“Yeah,” you whispered, throat tight. “Maybe I should.”

Rafe blinked, staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. The moment you said “maybe I should,” it was like the words didn’t even register with him. He let out this half-laugh, half-scoff, eyebrows raised. “Wait—what? You’re not actually serious right now.”

You just stood there, trying to hold onto the last shred of whatever self-respect you had left, but his reaction made you feel like you were the crazy one. Like you weren’t the one who’d been dragged through the emotional wringer for months.

“I’m serious,” you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible, but inside? You were shaking. “I’m done.”

He shook his head, like you were talking nonsense. “C’mon, stop. You always say shit like this when you’re mad. You’ll cool off in a couple hours. You’re just… overreacting. Again.”

That word—overreacting—was like gasoline on the fire burning inside you.

“I’m not overreacting. I’m tired.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of all the times you’d let him off the hook. “I’m tired of feeling like an idiot every time I care about you. Every time I think we might actually be something.”

He took a step closer, and you could smell the beer and expensive cologne clinging to him. “We are something,” he said, his tone softening just enough to sound almost genuine, like he believed it. “We have fun. You’re acting like I’m out here trying to hurt you or somethin'.”

“You don’t think you’re hurting me because you never even think about me in the first place,” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “You never even consider how any of this makes me feel, and that’s the problem. You don’t care.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight back like you half-expected him to. Instead, he just stared at you, confusion all over his face, like this was the first time he’d ever heard any of this.

“So what, you’re just gonna leave?” He asked it like it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. Like the concept of you actually walking away from him didn’t make any sense. “You’re not serious. You won’t actually leave.”

Your heart twisted at that—at how confident he was that you’d stay. That no matter how many times he messed up, no matter how many girls there were, or how many times he ghosted you, you’d always be right there, waiting. Because you always were. All your life.

He was so sure of it.

You felt your hands shake, and you hated that he still had that power over you. That even now, standing here in this stupid hallway at some stupid party, your heart was still fighting your brain, still wanting to hold onto him just a little bit longer.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Yeah, Rafe. I’m leaving.” The words came out firm, stronger than you even thought you were capable of right now. “I’m not playing this game with you anymore.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes. Panic, maybe. Or maybe it was just the realization that he didn’t have you as locked down as he thought. “You’re really gonna walk away from this?” He gestured between the two of you, as if whatever this was had been so good, so untouchable. “Don’t be stupid.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You think I’m the one being stupid? You’ve taken me for granted this whole time, and I was dumb enough to let you."

He just stood there, silent, looking like he didn’t even know how to answer. Because he didn’t. He never actually thought you’d go. He never thought you’d call him on his shit and mean it.

But you did. And now he was realizing it.

Without waiting for him to say another word, you turned and walked away, feeling like you could finally breathe for the first time in a long time. 

You barely made it a few steps before you heard him call after you. “Wait, hold on!”

You kept walking, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other. You knew if you stopped, if you even looked back at him, you’d get sucked right back in. But of course, Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easy.

“Wait!” His voice was closer now, and before you could pick up the pace, he grabbed your arm—not harshly this time, just enough to make you stop. “Come on, don’t just walk away.”

You sighed, shutting your eyes for a second before turning around. “What, Rafe? What do you want me to say?” You were so exhausted from this, from him, from the constant back and forth. “I’m not doing this anymore.”

He let go of your arm, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but trying to rein it in. “Can we just… talk about this? You’re pissed right now, and I get it, but you can’t just leave like this.”

“I can leave,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “That’s literally what I’m doing."

He exhaled sharply, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “You’re really just gonna throw everything away? After all this time?”

You stared at him, heart pounding in your chest. “What exactly am I throwing away? Huh? What have we even been lately? ’Cause from where I’m standing, all I’ve been doing is waiting around for you to decide if I’m worth more than just a random hookup whenever you feel like it.”

He winced at that, and for a second, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d get it. Maybe this would be the moment where he actually realized how badly he’d been screwing up. But instead, he went for the same excuse he always did.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly, like that would erase everything. “You know I care about you, okay? We’ve known each other forever. You’re… important to me.”

“Important to you?” You laughed, but it wasn’t even close to funny. “If this is how you treat people who are ‘important’ to you, then I don’t even wanna know how you treat people who aren’t. Oh wait, I do know."

Rafe sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, like he was trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Look, I know I’ve messed up. But…Can we just, like, think about it for a second? Talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build again. “What is there to talk about? You only wanna have this conversation now because I’m actually leaving. You never wanted to talk about it before.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off. “No, Rafe. You think I haven’t tried to bring this up? Every time I tell you how I feel, you brush me off. I’ve been bending over backwards, trying to make this work, and all I’ve gotten in return is you treating me like I’m an afterthought.”

Rafe frowned, his jaw tightening. “That’s not true. I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Because I’m walking away,” you shot back. “That’s the only reason you care right now—because you don’t wanna lose control. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? You never actually thought I’d leave.”

He didn’t say anything, which pretty much told you everything you needed to know.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “We used to be best friends. I knew you better than anyone, and you knew me. But I don’t even recognize you anymore. And honestly? I don’t recognize me when I’m around you either.” Your voice softened, "I deserve better than this. And you know it.”

For a second, he just stood there, looking at you like he was processing everything. His face wasn’t smug or arrogant anymore. He actually looked… lost. Maybe even scared. It was the first time you’d seen him drop the act in a long time, and for a split second, you felt that pull again—the one that always made you want to fix things, to make it better, to stay.

But you couldn’t do it this time. You couldn’t keep saving him at the expense of yourself.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he finally said, his voice quieter, almost vulnerable. “You’re… you’re one of the only people who actually gets me. I don’t wanna lose that.”

That hit you right in the gut, because deep down, you didn’t wanna lose him either. He was right—you did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t change what he’d been putting you through. And just because he was scared of losing you didn’t mean he was ready to treat you the way you deserved to be treated.

“I don’t wanna lose you either,” you admitted, “But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the girl you turn to when it’s convenient for you.”

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking down to the ground like he didn’t know what to say. And maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was finally realizing how badly he’d screwed this up.

You sighed, stepping back. “Look, I hope you figure your shit out. I really do. But I’m not sticking around to wait for that.”

You’d barely taken two steps when you heard him again, this time his voice quieter, almost desperate. “Wait—please. Just… don’t go.”

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. You were trying so hard to keep it together, to not let him see how badly this was wrecking you. Then he dropped the bomb.

“You’re the only thing keeping me sober.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Slowly, you turned back around, eyes wide. “What?”

He looked at you like he was begging you to understand, to stay. “I’m serious. Since I stopped using…you’re the only thing that’s been helping me hold it together. You leaving—it’s gonna fuck me up. You know that.”

Your heart twisted, hard. Of course he’d pull this now. You stared at him, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

“I’m not lying,” He insisted, taking a step closer. “I swear. I’m trying to do better. You’re the reason I haven’t gone back to that shit. You’ve always been the one to pull me out of it, and if you leave—”

“Stop,” you snapped, holding up a hand. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You’re really trying to put this on me?” Your voice was rising, and you didn’t even care if people inside the party heard you. “You’re trying to make me responsible for you staying clean? Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

Rafe flinched, his expression shifting from desperate to defensive. “I’m just saying it how it is. You’ve helped me more than anyone else. You know that.”

“No,” you shot back, shaking your head in disbelief. “I’m not doing this. I’m not carrying that weight for you. That’s not fair, and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but you weren’t done. “You can’t just dump your problems on me and expect me to fix them. I’m not your therapist, and I’m definitely not your savior.” Your chest was heaving now, all the anger and hurt that had been building up for months finally spilling over. “You don’t get to use your sobriety as a leash to keep me here.”

His face fell at that, and for a split second, you saw a flash of guilt. But it wasn’t enough. “I’m not trying to manipulate you,” he said, though even he sounded unsure of his words now. “I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t know what to do because you’ve never had to actually deal with the consequences of your actions,” you fired back. “You’ve always just said whatever you needed to say to keep people around. To keep me around.”

Rafe looked at you like he wanted to fight back, but the fight wasn’t there. Not this time. “That’s not what this is,” he muttered, but it sounded weak even to him.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside you. “I’m glad you’re sober. I really am. But that’s not my responsibility. It never should’ve been.” You paused, feeling every word you were about to say. “If staying clean depends on me staying in your life, then you haven’t actually changed. You’ve just found a new addiction.”

He stared at you, and for the first time, he didn’t have a response. No cocky smirk, no empty promises. Just silence.

“I’m not gonna be your crutch anymore,” you said softly, the anger fading, replaced with a deep, painful sadness. “You need to get better for you, not for me. And if you can’t do that… then this was never gonna work anyway.”

Rafe’s shoulders slumped, and you could see the defeat in his eyes, like he was finally realizing that no matter what he said, this time you weren’t coming back.

“Please don’t do this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

You blinked back the tears that were starting to sting your eyes. “You’ll figure it out."

He was on his knees before you realized. Literally.

Your eyes widened in complete disbelief. “Rafe, what the hell are you doing?”

He wasn’t even looking at you anymore, just staring at the floor, hands running through his hair like he was about to lose it. “Please don’t leave. I’m begging you. I—I can’t… I don’t know what to do without you.”

You froze, staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind. Because maybe he had. What was this? You felt like you were watching some movie, except it was your life, and it wasn’t dramatic or romantic or whatever he thought it was. It was just… sad. And kind of terrifying.

“Get up.” Your voice wasn’t even loud—it was flat, emotionless. You didn’t even know what to feel anymore. “Rafe, seriously. Get the fuck up.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice shaky. “I’m so fucking sorry. You’re all I’ve ever had, okay? Since we were kids, you’ve been the only person who’s ever stuck with me. Everyone else leaves. Everyone. But not you. You’ve always been there, no matter how much I’ve messed up.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut because, deep down, they were true. You had always been there. Through everything. The good, the bad, and the absolute worst. And maybe that’s why it hurt so damn much now—because he’d taken that loyalty, that friendship, and twisted it into something ugly and unrecognizable.

“I can’t believe this,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “I seriously can’t believe you right now.” You shook your head, staring at him in disbelief. “You think this is gonna fix everything? You think getting on your knees and saying some bullshit is gonna make me forget all the times you hurt me?"

He looked up at you, his eyes glassy, and it almost made your heart break. Almost. But you weren't going to fall for it anymore. “I didn’t mean to take you for granted. I just—I never thought you’d actually leave. You never left before.”

“And that’s exactly why we’re here,” you snapped, “You always thought I’d stay, no matter how bad you treated me. You counted on it."

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice cracking. “I know I fucked up. But I’ll do anything to fix it. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Please, just don’t go.”

You stared at him, the guy you’d known since forever, the one you’d stuck by when no one else did. The one you thought you could save, even though now you realized you couldn’t even save yourself when you were with him.

But this? Him on his knees? This wasn’t him fixing anything. This was him panicking, terrified that the one thing he’d taken for granted all these years was slipping away.

“I’m not the one who’s supposed to keep you alive. That’s on you. I’ve been there for you since we were six, and look where that’s gotten me. Look where that’s gotten us.”

His eyes were pleading, desperate, but you knew that if you stayed, this would keep happening. He would hurt you again, and you’d forgive him.

Because that’s what you did. That’s what you’d always done.

“I can’t keep being your safety net,” you whispered, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “You have to figure out who you are without me always picking up the pieces.”

He shook his head. “But I don’t know how.”

And that was the saddest part of all. He didn’t know how. He had no idea who he was without you constantly there to catch him when he fell. And you were tired of being the one holding him up while he pulled you down.

You took a deep breath, looking down at him—this broken, scared version of Rafe you never wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, “but this? This isn’t love. This isn’t healthy. This is you being afraid of losing control. And I’m not gonna let you use me to keep your shit together anymore.”

His eyes filled with tears, and for a second, your heart ached. Because yeah, you loved him once. Maybe you still did in some messed-up way. But love wasn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

“I hope you get better,” you said, taking a step back. “I really do. But I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

And for the first time in your life, you were the one to walk away.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Take your time but PLEASE WE(mostly just me) NEED MORE DOMESTIC (d&w) GAMBIT AND READER 🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

Your just giving my an excuse to write more for this lovely man. Channing Tatum deserves that solo Gambit movie. I’m no joking, give me two and a half hours of this beauty and I’ll have my ass sat down for it.

If there was anything Remy loved more then you- which is impossible by the way- it was making you breakfast in the morning just so he could get to see your half awake stumble into the kitchen, half awake, and cuddling yourself into his back.

‘Remy, why did you leave me all alone to the cold.’ You whined as you burrowed your face into his bare back. Remy often slept shirtless most nights but he also did this because he knew how much you loved seeing him shirtless, that and he loved skin on skin contact with you, for to him it felt as though your souls were harmonising with one another and oh so sweetly it almost sounded like birds softly chirping in the early morning.

Remy chuckles. ‘Apologise Cher but as much as staying in bed with the most important person in my life sounded like a good idea, I unfortunately know how you get when you get hungry.’

You gasped, looking at him with a pout as you gently slapped his bicep. ‘If you are insinuating that I get grumpy when hungry, then you’re wrong Mr playing cards.’ Remy raised his hands as he attempted to hold back his laughter but was failing miserably every time he went to look at you. ‘You are the one who said it mon Amour, remember that.’ He said as he brought one of your hands from his waist, holding it up to his lips to kiss it repeatedly before back to his waist.

‘You being cute and sexy as you make breakfast doesn’t give you an out of jail free card you know.’ You mumbled against his back, tightening your grip on him but all you were doing was making him smile and feel even more loved than before. Life before you was a nightmare for Remy that he wishes to never return to, not when your clinging onto him like a koala, tightening your grip on him as he reached for the top cupboards for plates to put your breakfast on all the while letting his mind drift off to future mornings he planed on sharing with you.

He couldn’t help it, you held his heart as though it were made of glass between your hand, making sure to kiss each and every wound it has ever harboured to heal it from pain of the past. Remy knew that he wanted to wake up with the from the very moment you greeted him way back when and not once had he ever regretted it. After all your early morning clinginess was cute enough to make the man want to put down the spatula he was holding and smother your face in kisses.

Remy stopped. ‘Actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.’ He said to himself before shifting himself in your arms to have a better look at you as his hands cupped your face, stroking your cheeks as you melted into his touch much like a cat would. ‘Are you trying to make me fall asleep standing up?’ You asked him, finding it harder to keep your eyes open when Remy was caressing your face so soft and tenderly, you swore that man had magic, especially given how often you felt weak in the knees whenever he held you like this after a long and hard day. ‘Because it’s kinda working.’ You add but Remy was quick to pull his hands away from your face and smirked cheekily.

‘You dick I was enjoying that.’ You pouted as Remy chuckled, resting his head against your own.

‘Well I have something you might enjoy a lot more Cher.’ He whispers.

‘And what’s that?’ You whispered back, looking deep into his eyes and finding nothing but the purest of love, adoration and warmth within them staring back at you. Remy didn’t say nothing and just started smothering you in plenty of kisses while you squealed in his arms, trying weakly to get away but you loved the affection as much as Remy did giving it you as he tightened his grip on you and laughing at your squeals of surprise.

‘Remy!’ You exclaimed. ‘Breakfast will burn if you’re too busy drowning me in kisses!’

Remy only peppered more kisses to your face, neck and shoulders. ‘You are far too irresistible Cher, I couldn’t help myself from acting on what my heart wants and it wants you.’ He says and you couldn’t help but met at his buttery words as they always made you feel special and unique in his eyes, which you very much were and Remy wasn’t about to let you forget that as long as he had air in his lungs. ‘You really are a sappy romantic.’ You told him fondly as you ran your hand through his hair, keeping his face buried in your neck as you hummed at each and every kiss he gave you there.

‘But you love me for it.’ Remy replied knowingly.

‘I do, it’s a curse ow!’ You yelped when you felt him pinch your side and softly slapped his bicep again, making him chuckle. ‘That hurt you littl- do you smell burning?’ You asked and Remy was quick to remove himself off of you to look behind him, only to see that he had left the bacon on the stove a little too long and now they were burnt to a crisp; Something that almost never happens when Remy cooks. He then looks back at you with a sly smile. ‘Is that lazy day in bed still up for grabs mon Cher?’ He asked and you couldn’t help but sigh lightheartedly before getting towards the door. ‘Come on then handsome, back to bed we got for a couple of minutes or half a hour.’ You said as you and Remy left the kitchens together, though not before throwing away the burnt bacon and cleaning up after yourselves.

Breakfast might’ve not gone well but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to enjoy snuggling under the covers and possibly falling asleep until mid-day until Wade and Logan come by to drag you both into their shenanigans again.

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) distraction ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 양정원 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ keeping jungwon from studying ヾ

bf!jungwon・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ fluff‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎kissing thats it wc ・ ‎0.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 my second solo jungwon work , I'm sorry it took so long 😔🙏🏽...

jungwon loved you, he did — but you were so damn distracting. “baby you came over to study , yet your book is closed.” he smiled , you hummed with a smile. “well yes , that's because i knew you'd tell me no if i didn't say it was for studying.” you giggled , pinching his cheeks , your boyfriend shaking his head. “how could you even say no to hanging out with your girlfriend.”

he looked up , you were pouting. “because of what you're doing exactly right now.” he said. “you're too distracting , we have a test in three days and i know i wouldn't be able to get anything done.” he said. “and you're proving my point , i've been on the same page for 5 minutes.” you scoffed. “so mean.” he sat his pen down , looking back up at you. “baby you know what i mean , look you're not even — hmph!”

jungwon was taken aback , you had just hit him with a pillow. you giggled , holding your mouth. “baby.” he said , you picked up the pillow again to hit him again , but he grabbed it from you , smiling. “okay , you want to play?” you nodded , picking up his other pillow , only to be knocked down before you could hit him. “let's play then.”

you shrieked as he hit you again. “won!” you swung the pillow, hitting the side of his head with the pillow. “oh im sorry.” you smiled , he scoffed. “that smile says otherwise.” he threw the pillow down , both your books tossed to the floor. “but im gonna get you back.” before you could run away, he was grabbing your ankles , you laughed loudly as he began to tickle you. “stop , stop!” you yelled in between fits of laughter. “im sorry.”

“yeah , you sorry?” he laughed. “yes , i swear.” you said , he slowly pulled away , letting you calm down. “i lied.” you grabbed the pillow , ready to hit him again — but you were unable to, because your boyfriend's lips were on yours. after the shock wore off , you dropped the pillow to your side , your hands finding the side of his face , caressing his cheek as he kissed you , his dimple prominent as he smiled into the kiss.

he kissed you for a little longer , before pulling away his face red , smiling down at you. “see distracting.” you laughed. “i'll take full responsibility if you do bad on the test.” you said. “i promise.” he hummed. “you better.” he said. “now give me another kiss.”

“you little distraction.”

[liillyliilly]

No Free-Solo

kenji sato x reader words; 10021 synopsis; from high school on, kenji couldn't do it alone, especially not when she was there for him.

“You’re missing me with that busy shit. You’re missing me with your whole ‘I can’t come over tonight’ act.” Kenji sat in what she liked to refer to as his dungeon, his lair, his Ultraman den. His too large for life couch made of black leather was cold and the emptiness was expansive in his mansion. He wanted her near, he wanted her to come back.

“I really can’t come over, I’m helping out Ami with Chiho tonight.” She tried to let him down gently, but he huffed through the phone.

She wasn’t a nanny per se, but she did do a fair amount of long-term babysitting for lots of people, mostly for Ami, occasionally for other busy mothers. She had a certain touch to the whole watching and raising kids thing, entertaining the child while also educating them.

Chiho was snoring in her bed. Ami was out with her fellow reporter boyfriend. And she, well she was watching movies in the family room of Ami’s house. Drawings that Chiho had done were covering the walls, plenty of Ultraman pictures to Kenji’s amusement.

She knew the Sato family through a long-winded connection by friendship shared between mothers. Kenji’s mom was best friends with her mom. In terms of maturity though, she was light years ahead of Kenji even when they were in high school. Back in America, when life was typical (meaning lacking in Kaiju and Ultraman responsibility) and the LA Dodgers still reigned supreme in Kenji’s head. They had met for the first time right before her junior year and his senior year.

She would be the youngest junior at the school and he would be one of the oldest seniors at their Los Angeles high school.

Her mom had insisted they visit her good friend the summer before her junior year started, and that she would need to help the son out in adapting to American High school since they had just moved from Japan.

She was worried due to a potential language barrier, but her mom assured her that he would be fluent in English. But how would her mom know that? Her anxiety was off the charts. She spent hours studying basic Japanese, which she found was probably going to kill her, why a language needs more than one writing system was beyond her.

“Ah! It’s so good to see you, Emiko!” Her mom went in for a big hug, and the petite Japanese woman returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as had been given. Her mom muttered about the separation between Emiko and Hayao, and Emiko gave a strained smile, leading them into the house.

Kenji was lounging on the couch, which she soon learned that he loved to do, a tendency to sprawl due to his height and lankiness. He was switching TV channels, until he landed on a baseball game and committed to watching that.

Her mom ushered her over to him, telling her to make conversation and get to know him. How she expected her to do that despite not knowing him at all was a wonder. She didn’t suspect that they had anything in common, and with the zeal he was watching the baseball game, she also suspected that he wasn’t going to be a huge fan of her preference for movies and shows over sports.

So she mustered up a greeting in Japanese from a textbook she had picked up. She had missed the way his eyes glinted with amusement, it was at that moment he decided to play just a small inconsequential game. A game where he pretended he didn’t know any English.

He responded in Japanese, and she realized she really knew nothing at all about Japanese. He sat up and patted the seat next to him. The moms left the main living space in favor of drinking some tea upstairs on a balcony, leaving her alone and incapable of communicating.

Pointing to herself, she said her name with a forced smile. He said ‘Kenji’ while pointing to himself and saying a variety of other words that she had no idea meant anything at all. At least Japanese sounded pretty, so she started thinking about the linguistic history and design of the syllables. He waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped out of her mini history lesson to herself.

Pushing his joke a little further, he used his head to point to a door near the stairs. She raised an eyebrow. He spoke for a few more moments, and she could only stiffly smile and nod in return. When he grabbed her hand and went to the door she thought she was going to die.

Inside the door was his room, and she really thought that this was the end of her sanity, her childhood, her innocence. She had fandangled herself into an intimate relationship with someone who didn’t even speak English and her heart was going to burst at the seams. Trying to recall all the words she had memorized, she was mad that she never learned the words for; no, stop, or I’ll kill you.

It was when she began to slink towards the door and hold her arms across her body in a cross shape that he realized maybe he should drop the joke. Her ears seemed like they were burning and her breathing had increased to a mile a minute in pace.

“Relax, I just wanted to show you my baseball cards.” He held up a binder and opened it to reveal a collection of player cards double sleeved and tucked neatly into a sheet protector.

“I thought you didn’t speak any English!” She frowned and put a hand to her heart. He laughed and she realized she had fallen for a trick.

“My bad.” He holds his hands together and puts them up near his head with a slight bow to apologize. Kenji pushes his bangs back and licks his top row of teeth, “Do you know if our school has a baseball team?” He asks.

She nods. “We’re in the top bracket for playing, it’s super hard to get onto the team though, my friend tried-”

He raised a hand to get her to stop speaking, then he informed her of his inherent athletic prowess, “Believe me, I’ll get onto the team.”

And he had. He’d even qualified to play on the varsity team.

A few months into the school year, while she was eating in the library with some friends, Kenji came bustling into the open space with his pack of baseball players. They always tagged along behind him, treating him like some sort of fancy foreign exchange kid, which she realized was exactly the situation and so her mental analogy didn’t end up working out and she clicked her teeth.

But the majority of white boys at the school did tend to lean a little too hard into the racial stereotypes and unfunny jokes. All Kenji could do sometimes was purse his lips and keep eating his natto. They thought because they had an Asian friend it was an excuse for their behavior, why Kenji never stood up to them and told them off was a huge confounding plight in her eyes. Kenji himself didn’t quite understand it either. Not even when they shortened his name into just Ken for ease and convenience.

Before she could tidy up her comparison and dissection of Kenji Sato, he was leaning on her desk, eating her carrots and searching for her eyes to meet him. He said something in Japanese, and she tried to remember how the words sounded so she could look up what he had said.

“I need your help.” He stole a bite of her sandwich, then drank some of her water. Before he even took it without asking, she offered her pastry to him and he ate the whole thing in one bite and mumbled a ‘thanks’ with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowing.

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can get these guys off my back.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his teammates.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell, Kenji.” She started to pack up her bag, but he just put his hand on her bag and pressed it hard against the desk. With his other hand he gently grabbed her by the chin, and tilted her face up to his. Inches away. Her eyes went wide.

“Pretty please?” He licked his lips and she tried to bring her own face back to avoid his tongue getting to her lips.

She thought about what her mom said, telling her to help out Kenji if he needed it. This couldn't apply though, right?

“I’m going to need so many favors.” She groaned, managing to get her bag out from under his hands.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ruffling her hair and heading out with his friends who began to goad him for keeping her a secret for so long. He had just taken her first kiss and it didn’t seem like it bothered him at all. She was too busy pressing her hand to her lips to even notice the way his ears were a scorching hot red.

When she went to research what he had said to her, she thought she must have misheard him because the proposed English translation was something along the lines of, ‘please let this work out in my favor’.

Continuously, she called in favors, and he was there to meet them. Getting books off the top shelves in the library. Sharpening pencils when they were studying. Even helping her learn just a little more of his language.

“No, no you gotta give each syllable its own beat. Copy me.” Kenji went over the blended ‘r’ and ‘l’ sound that felt clunky in her mouth.

She did replicate what he was saying, at least to her own belief that that was her best ability. He laughed a little and she frowned.

“Okay, move your tongue a little, right behind your front teeth, but also not touching your teeth, just let your tongue kinda do the sound in the middle.” Kenji opened his mouth a little so she could observe. She tried again but it sounded even worse than the first attempt.

“I wish I could just move your tongue for you so you could get the motion right.” She looked quickly side to side, biting her bottom lip. Kenji backtracked immediately, “That didn’t come out quite right, I think that’s enough Japanese for one day.” She nodded rapidly and closed the journal she was using to take notes.

He said that they could go get food, she agreed and they got burgers and milkshakes at a run down family owned diner. He paid, despite her insisting she could pay for her own food. Saying that that was apart of the whole fake dating thing.

“You know, you do a lot of things under the guise of our not dating, dating thing.” She sipped her milkshake. Kenji took a bite of his burger, musing about what he would say.

“Well, we’re friends as well right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since you basically arrived here. We’re friends, but honestly, we behave more like best friends.” She finished off her shake and cleaned up her area.

That was something he liked about her, her consideration for cleanliness and organization. But also her appreciation for others around her, cleaning up her stuff so that the likely overworked waitress didn’t have to. A person who thinks about other people. Now that was his type he decided.

“I’m happy with being best friends.”

In all fairness, he was probably the best fake boyfriend that a girl could’ve asked for. They had settled on knowing their relationship was best friends, but for others they had the additional label of dating. Sometimes though, he’d do something like grab her hand or wrap an arm around her. When those situations presented themselves, she always looked for possible viewers, his teammates. But based on her data, he only did things like that around 20% of the time when his teammates were actually watching. Meaning that the other 80% of the time he did the physical acts of affection, no one was around to watch.

While his English was practically perfect, he had the hardest time in social studies and history, so he got her help with his U.S. government class. He claimed that because he hadn’t lived here at all, and because he had Japanese citizenship that this class was completely useless for him. His defeatist attitude towards history made her roll her eyes at him.

One day, when she was intending to come over to help him, Emiko crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as he cleaned up his room. He threw his baseball socks and jersey into the dirty clothes hamper.

“She’s coming over then?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer.

Emiko got giddy, saying she’d make a good rich curry tonight for dinner and that he’d need to tell her to stay for dinner. He gave a wave and kept picking up his room.

When the doorbell rang, he ran to the door. Emiko chastened him and told him to calm down. He let her in, and she greeted his mom, giving Emiko the box of fruit her own mom told her to drop off. He complained in Japanese that she always went straight to his mom instead of greeting him first. Emiko in turn smiled at her while scolding her son again in Japanese.

Watching the conversation unfold, she shrugged, Japanese was just not her strong suit.

“How hard is it to understand a constitutional federal republic?” She looked over his essay answer to a prompt she had given him to practice for his upcoming test. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing the end of a pen. She was leaning against his bed frame, reading papers and marking up his essay with her red pen. Each time she made another red mark, he grumbled. Of all the people she had tutored though, his handwriting was the best.

“Correct these things first, and then I can edit again with my orange pen.” She held up said pen while handing the paper back to him. He just mimicked what she had said, holding his own pen the same way she had held up hers, even going so far as to bring his shoulders upwards to make him appear smaller.

In response to the insulting imitation she grabbed her notebook and hit him repeatedly on the knee. He let out a pained ouch, and she felt bad, so she put the notebook away and just patted his knee instead.

“If you really loved me you’d just write out the whole essay and then I could just memorize it and cross apply the right parts for the actual prompt Mr. Henry gives in class next week.” Kenji adjusted his body position, and her hand wasn’t on his knee anymore but dead center of his thigh instead. He smirks, and she immediately retracts her hand.

“Good thing I don’t love you then.” Kenji presses his hand to his heart and sighs, falling back into his pillow. “Just do the essay Jiji.”

He lifted his head and repeated what she had said, “Jiji?”

“Kenji.” She says his name and enunciates the two syllables cleanly.

“I like Jiji, I think it suits me. It’s a cute nickname.”

He finished rewriting the essay while she poked around his room. Photos of him with his mom and dad, which she already knew not to ask about because last time she did he went total silence for two weeks. But then he felt guilty about ghosting and took her out to get a sweet treat everyday after school for one week straight. Trophies from his old school back in Japan for his baseball achievements. Multiple MVP awards from the games he had played here.

The other photos that were in his room were mostly of him and his teammates. He just didn’t look too happy in those ones, so she tried to skim them, but failed. His teammates did their best to make him seem like he was a part of the group, but it just didn’t click all the way. Kenji always looked too serious in the photos, or it seemed like he was actually looking at the baseball diamond instead of the person taking the photo.

There was an adorable little figure, made either of acrylic or vinyl, of a little superhero with a red and silver supersuit and a blue circle on the chest. She picked it up and inspected it. What she assumed was Kenji’s name was on the foot of the toy. She bent the arms of the toy and moved it around like it was flying midair.

Kenji had completely paused writing his essay in favor of watching her dart around his room. He clenched his jaw for a second when she picked up the Ultraman toy, then eased his body language when she started making the toy fly around. If only that’s what Ultraman really was, just a toy. Just a toy and not an impending responsibility to protect and serve the people of Japan from Kaiju monsters. He wondered if she’d ever want to live somewhere besides Los Angeles. Tokyo for example.

“Kenji! Curry! Get the applesauce from the cabinet please!” Emiko called out.

She set the toy down and turned around, but Kenji was already standing right behind her. He had only meant to watch her movements a little more closely, but now this was entirely too close. He played it off like he was adjusting the Ultraman doll, smiled and then opened his door for her to exit and head downstairs.

When he heard the steps trailing down, he silently screamed and raised his hands to the sides of his head. Then he dragged a hand down his face and carded fingers through his hair. He envied the self he saw in the photos, cool and nonchalant.

“So, are there any boys you think are cute at school?” Emiko ate another bite of katsu that was drenched in curry sauce.

She swallowed thickly for a second, “I- uh, no. There’s not many good options for dating material at a hyper-athletic school.” She laughed to cut the edge off the conversation.

Emiko drank some water, but then prodded a little more. Kenji wished the earth would open and swallow him up.

“Not even at a school full of athletes? I would’ve sworn there were some good options for you on Kenji’s baseball team. What was his name? Eric? Eli?”

“Ohh, Ezra Johnson?” She supplied, eating some applesauce and then tapping her mouth with a napkin.

Kenji looked to her, then to his mom, then back at her. He was trying to stuff his face with his food so he could exit the conversation and then drag her and himself back to his room. She seemed insistent on blocking out the whole fake dating thing from his mom’s view and perception.

“Yes! He’s a really nice kid! He actually greeted me when I went to the first game. It was so sweet of him. His mom and I got to know each other a little bit. I can send you his details if you want?” Emiko grazed the back of her phone.

“No!” Kenji burst. His mom and his fake girlfriend both looked at him. “Uh, Ezra is talking to this girl named, um, Claire. Yeah, Claire.” He held his plate up and his mom nodded.

Rinsing his plate off he put it into the dishwasher, then from behind his mom’s back he tried mouthing to her so they could go back upstairs but she was too busy still talking to his mom to notice anything.

When she finally finished eating, she said she needed to go back home.

“What about my essay though?” Kenji rested his forearms on the kitchen counter while she was busy doing the dishes despite having to gently fight with Emiko about letting her even do the dishes in the first place.

“I gave you enough content to work with, just do the corrections and you’ll be good to go.” She bumped the dishwasher with her hip to close it, and he wondered what her bumping into him would feel like. And then he groveled a little that he wanted to be a dishwasher for even a split second. “I need to do my own homework now, tell your mom thank you again for me, okay?”

She rubbed his arm to comfort him slightly, but he took his chance to reach to her hip, tugging her lightly into him.

“What are you doing?” She hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down in case Emiko was still lurking around.

“Saying thanks for the help, goodbye, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed the hand that she had on his arm and held her hand for a second, then brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled, then pushed his shoulder.

When she had left the house, he flung himself onto the couch and giggled a little. Kicking his feet that were dangling over the arm of the couch. His mom peeked downstairs to see Kenji wriggling around and muttering. She just laughed a little. Maybe her instigation had worked out in the end.

The next week, she was hounded by baseball players after school.

She kept holding up a hand to cover her face, but they would not relent. Asking questions about her and Kenji. What Kenji was like outside of school, outside of baseball. If Kenji ever stopped being serious and aloof for even a minute. At this point they were just crowding her and not giving her the space to breathe.

She kept giving short curt answers, tugging her backpack straps closer and closer to her. At one point, one of them stepped on her foot and she winced a little.

It was like some kind of sonar sensor, Kenji could tell something was wrong. When he turned the corner, all he could see was his girl getting cornered by a bunch of idiots who didn’t even have his best interest at heart. The only reason why he asked her to fake date him was so that he could get out of dates with the girls his teammates had thought would suit him. The secondary reason was so she could avoid his teammates entirely. But clearly, the second reason did not go as planned because his teammates were a bunch of no-brainers who didn’t even really care about baseball.

“Hey, let’s go, I’ll drive you home today.” Kenji stuck his hand in between two of his teammates, and she grabbed it, so he was able to pull her out from the crowd they had made around her.

He strung two fingers around her jean belt loop and guided her to his car. When they finally sat down, and Kenji had started the engine, she let out a shaky breath. He put his hand behind her seat, and then moved his hand so he could lightly touch the back of her neck at her nape.

“Are you okay? I had no idea they would do something like that, I mean, it’s just completely ridiculous. I don’t even talk to them that much, if at all. And they treat me like some kind of foreigner, which I may be yeah, but really come on. That’s just herd mentality to the max. Ridiculous behavior, so childish.” Kenji kept talking while driving, she thought that maybe he needed a chance to really unload everything and mitigate the tension that had built up around him.

When they got to her house, he apologized again. And again.

“Don’t let it eat you alive, it’s all good, no harm no foul, if it makes you feel better, they totally reeked of body odor.” She chimed in after he finished his long wind of apologies. “And, um, what time is your game on Wednesday? My mom asked, she wants to hang out with your mom.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to see me completely kill the opposing team.” Kenji tried to lean out of the car just a little more, but his seatbelt kept him from getting his head out of the passenger side window. “I’ll text you. Get to your house safe ok?”

To her house from the car was approximately seven steps. The smile she gave him wrinkled her eyes and creased her nose just perfectly. He slid his hands up and down the wheel, smiling to himself as he started home.

The game went perfectly, he stole practically all the bases, and he made two home run hits. And an LA Dodgers scout was there. Once he got the documents and the scout shaked his hand, he was over the moon excited to play for the best team in the United States.

When he saw her with her mom and his mom, he just couldn’t hold himself back. In a second, he was hugging her and ranting about the scout continuously just repeating the experience over and over. Since his mom knew she would have a hard time prying Kenji off of his best friend, she just had to listen in to what he was saying, and she clapped when she had finally heard it all, celebrating from just far enough away to let them enjoy the moment.

His graduation was boring, she sat with his mom in the stands waiting for him to get his name called out. There were a lot of speeches, and she recognized the valedictorian from various library encounters, but for the most part everyone was a stranger to her. Emiko kept getting a call from an international number, but she didn’t try to ask about it.

Kenji barrelled through the crowd of graduates to get to his people, his mom and his best friend. When he started to talk about what he was going to do over the summer, his baseball camps and training, getting to meet the members of his team. His mom put a gentle hand to his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the serious environment his mom had suddenly crafted. She backed away a little, but Kenji grabbed her hand and shook his head, telling her to stay for whatever his mom had to say.

“Kenji, your dad, he’s, your dad wants to talk to you. He’s, he’s on the phone.” Emiko couldn’t help but stutter a little, unnerved with how Kenji would react.

Kenji shook his head no, pulling her closer to him trying to use her as a crutch to prevent an interaction with his father from occurring. She looked between Kenji and his mother for a moment. Emiko with her tightened face and hand gripping the phone tightly said more than what her original request was saying. Emiko wanted Kenji to answer the call. So, she in turn encouraged him to answer it.

“Jiji, just answer the call. It’s your dad.” He felt betrayed.

“I’m not picking up the phone, I’m not talking to dad, and I’m getting a ride with a friend.” He pulls his hand away, despite missing her touch, and leaves his mom and her standing and stunned from his reaction.

Emiko pulled her into a side hug. “Thanks for backing me, you’re much more mature than I think people give you credit for. I have udon at home, call your mom and let’s have a girls night. I don’t think he’ll be home for a while. I’ll let him blow off steam today, but don’t think I’m soft on him, he’ll have some hell to pay when I catch him tomorrow.”

Patting the back of her head, Emiko went to the small electric van. She stood for a second, thinking about the space Kenji had just occupied. Maybe the family dynamic in the Sato household was more complex than she had anticipated, Emiko seemed to still love her husband despite them being separated. Kenji seemed adverse to and angry with his father, but Emiko didn’t carry any slight of resentment.

Girls night was a blast, including face masks and bad romance movies. Kenji got back around midnight, just as her mom and her were leaving his house. When she left, he was the one who closed the door after her. He gave a short pained smile and a wave. In her mind, it was a win because at least he wasn’t upset with her for taking Emiko’s side.

Summer was hot and burned the apples of her cheeks, leaving both sunburns and memories in it’s fragmented state. Kenji was busy conditioning for baseball practically everyday. Somedays he’d invite her out just to watch him play, so she could sip some icy lemonade and sit in the shade instead of being cooped in her house doing whatever it is that homebodies do.

It would be deceiving to say that she didn’t enjoy just watching him play. The way his baseball jersey would bunch at his elbows and shoulders when he hit the ball. Or the way he would run the bases each time he missed a throw from the ball machine. He still needed to get a haircut, so his bangs would completely cover most of his face, until he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and his almost snake-like eyes would study her from afar.

The best part was when he told her to move her legs a little, so he could sit on the row of bleachers in front of her. Eventually positioning himself to settle in between her legs, resting his arms on her thighs and his head was leaning on her torso. Although his sweat would lightly mark up her shirts when his hair dripped from his practice rounds, she still loved to be there for him in this capacity.

Either he was here with her or he would be at the diamond alone and angry. When he came alone, he would throw his bat when he made a mistake instead of just brushing it off and doing a lap. Somehow, doing baseball training alone while waiting for official LA Dodgers’ orders made him all pent up and out of control. So when she came to observe, it felt like he had more things in his control, his ability to manage.

“How are you gonna survive without me next year?” Kenji rolled his shoulders before getting his water bottle and guzzling down the IV infused liquid.

“Well, as far as everyone knows, we’re still dating, so I’ll have another year of free solo-ing the romance world at a hormone ridden cesspool.” She slid her backpack on, ready to start the trek home.

Kenji slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then quickly switched which shoulder his bag was on once he saw which side she let her bag rest on, so that their bags wouldn’t bump into each other as he walked her home.

“You’re not gonna tell people we ended it?” Kenji sucked in some air through his teeth, readjusting the bag’s weight placement a little.

“Nah, it’s just easier that way. At graduation though if anyone asks how we’re doing I’ll say you found a supermodel that preys on greenie Pro-Baseball players.”

He nods, accepting the route she was going in order to terminalize their fake relationship.

“I was a good boyfriend though, right?” Maybe he asked so that he could feel out the possibility of a real one, or seeing what he could do better when he finally worked up enough courage to ask her out for real and for forever. For now though, he knew that friendship would satiate most of his yearning for her time and attention.

“Comparatively, to what I heard other girls went through, you were practically a saint. I mean, you never did press me into a couch so we could make out. Ruby held that over my head for the whole year once her girlfriend did that to her.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually,” Kenji stroked his chin, “One last boyfriend duty for me to do before I get too busy, ya know?”

“Kiss me without permission and you're a dead baseball boy.” He held up his hands defensively.

“That was one time.”

“In the middle of the library, in front of a good majority of my friends, right after I had been begged to be a fake girlfriend.”

Kenji raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, “I do not recall begging.”

“You definitely begged,” She clasped her hands together and turned towards him, pausing their pace on the sidewalk for her to parody him, “Pretty please.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted dramatically.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her hands so she would keep walking.

The postseason began around October for Kenji, and he made his official debut into the stage of professional baseball. Around the fifth game he played, he snapped. And that’s why he was sitting on her bathroom counter holding a bag of peas to the side of his face, while she dug through the closet just outside the bathroom looking for a first aid kit.

The catcher had just stepped out of line according to Kenji, messing up his at bat routine with his comments about his age, his inexperience, his lack of genuine talent. The first punch was Kenji’s, the second punch was the catcher’s and it rocked Kenji immediately.

Tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, he was just glad all his teeth were okay. He did feel bad for going to her instead of going home. But he knew that his mom would’ve killed him for hitting another player. The only reason why his mom wasn’t at this specific game was because she had some research files from years ago that his father needed, so she was spending the time trying to transfer data from floppy disks to USB drives.

She should’ve been asleep, or studying for her upcoming exams. He felt like an inconvenience and like a child who was being coddled, but he did feel like he was being fawned over by her which he could live with. Even the way she had reacted to him texting her and asking if she could help patch him up a little. She had sent nearly thirty messages, mostly angry, but also laced with worry.

“This might sting a little.” She reached up and pressed a cloth to his lip. He lurched away from the disinfectant, and she almost fell over due to having to reach up to get to his face.

“Hold on, give me a second.” Kenji got off the counter regardless of her complaints, she stopped complaining and was silenced once he swapped their positions, her sitting on the counter and him in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips, placed on the edge of the counter. “Better.”

She hummed a little, pressing the cloth to his face again, he tried to not lurch away this time. She put some triple antibiotic ointment on his lip and temple where there were some cuts. Putting some small star shaped bandages on his face where the cuts were biggest.

“All done!” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave a big smile.

Maybe he leaned in, maybe he didn’t. But their lips were definitely touching. When she pushed him away he realized he must have made a fatal error. So he decided to play it off.

“Sorry, a little faint from the fight earlier, not in my right mind.”

“Yeah, you, uh, you were just trying to, yeah.” She chewed the inside of her mouth.

Kenji helped her off the counter, and walked to her front door, ready to head out.

Holding onto the door, she stuck her head out and commented to him before he got too far away from hearing distance, “No more fights okay?”

He threw her a thumbs up before leaving her house. When he was safely back in his car, he did something that was all too familiar when he slipped up around her, he silently screamed and gripped his hair.

Years went by.

They stayed close, and he made sure of that. Baseball was going great, but no championships under his belt. She had graduated college, working at an office as an assistant. She moved out of her family home and got a shared apartment with some college friends who also worked in the main part of Los Angeles

Then, his dad hurt his leg, and everything went to hell. Hayao had called, telling Kenji it was finally time to take the name of Ultraman. He now needed to bear the gauntlet, the responsibility of keeping his home country safe. His mom just agreed, putting her hands on Kenji’s knee. Telling Kenji it was finally time for him to go home and be who he was supposed to be. And he was supposed to be Ultraman?

Baseball was his thing, he knew baseball and he was good at it too. Baseball felt like home, LA felt like his home, she felt like his home.

On top of all that, within a week of his father’s request and his mother’s urging, his mother had an accident. He had no idea what happened. Just that one day, Emiko was there and then she wasn’t.

He was depressed, and so he drank. His house was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, he was wearing the same clothes from four days ago. His toothbrush had become unfamiliar. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, staying in the dark and sulking.

When her mom found out about Emiko’s disappearance and presumed death, she called her daughter and told her to check in on Kenji. He had been distant lately, and she knew that the distance was a result of his grief. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she realized she hadn’t reached out to him in a few weeks.

His front door was locked, she had a basket of fruit and a stack of tupperwares filled with lunches and dinners for an entire week. She tried to think about what food were both comforting and had a lot of protein, so she made a variety of pasta dishes with extra meat.

“Kenji?” She knocked repeatedly, checking her phone only to see that her messages had been left on read. She called out for him again, knocking harder. “I know you’re in there Jiji.”

Opening the door made her grasp the gravity of the situation he was in. His hair was covering his face, he seemed to have recoiled into himself, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of his typical jeans and jersey thrown over a solid color tee. He smelled too, not of his usual mintiness and clean linen, but of all and any sort of alcohol. With eye bags darker than dirt, and hollow looking features, he just left the door open as he lurked back into his blacked out house.

Setting her gifts on his kitchen counter, she turned on the lights, and got to work. First the dishes, and then she picked up all the clothing and started a load of laundry. She made him a plate of the food she had brought, and a big glass of water and some Advil for the inevitable hangover he would have.

Lying on the couch, Kenji played with the hem of his sweatshirt. He tried to take another sip straight from a bottle of red wine when she stole it out of his hands. Whining, he told her to give it back and turn the lights off. She clicked her tongue.

“Eat this,” she handed him the plate, “Drink this,” she sat the water and pill on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, her arms folded in front of her chest. He groaned but did as told.

Satisfied with his actions, she dragged him upstairs and told him to take a shower. Hearing the water running, she looked around his room and cleaned it up. His passport, along with a one way ticket to Tokyo for one month out, was on the floor, covered by blankets that were strewn around. Opened letters were lying on the floor as well, pictures and clippings of ‘Kaiju’ attacks in Japan. Maybe she needed to brush up on her international news instead of staying in her little bubble.

Coming out of the shower with baggy clothes on, he dried his hair with a small towel.

“What are you doing?” He saw her holding the letters his dad had sent. He reached out for them, but she held them back and to her chest.

“What are Kaiju?”

Soon, he was sitting on his bed with her as well. He had the Ultraman doll in his left hand and a stuffed animal that she had given him some years ago in his right hand.

“Basically, I’m this, by blood,” He shook the Ultraman doll, “And I’m supposed to fight these back home. Since my father can’t anymore.” Laughing slightly, he slammed Ultraman into the stuffie repeatedly.

Her eyes were wide. She may not have understood everything about what he was, or what he was supposed to be doing, but she knew it was important to him to some degree. It was irrelevant that his dad needed him, the only thing he cared about was that his mom had asked him to take the step to become something he wasn’t sure of.

But the idea that her best friend was going to be a superhero? That he could change into some kind of robotic monster slayer? She had to disconnect a little from reality just to process the whole thing.

Suddenly, he thought of something that could possibly get him out of his funk. Something that could make his time in Tokyo, living an entirely new life bearable.

“There’s some extra rooms at the place I’ll be living in. I know that you want to go to some kind of graduate school. There are really good graduate schools in Tokyo.” He scratched the back of his head, if she said yes, then he would be truly mortified that she had seen him like this but he would also get to have neverending time with her on a day to day basis if she agreed.

“I remember none of the Japanese you taught me, I’d need to get a visa,” She started listing off all the things that would keep her from leaving, “But, uh, I think I’ll go with you. Yes.”

“I can handle the visa thing, you’re just going to need to sign some papers and have an interview with some people, and you’ll need to wear a ring on your ring finger. As for the Japanese, I’m a better teacher now than when I was 18.”

Getting married was not on her bucket list, but at least she could get better tuition at her graduate school for technically being a form of naturalized Japanese national. Her mom was glad to see her living away from LA, and she was grateful for Kenji going with her daughter. Her mom just didn’t know about the marriage for a green card/visa situation, and honestly, she didn’t plan on telling her mom.

The whole flight to Tokyo she was practicing her Japanese with Kenji. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. Not ready for the whole Ultraman thing, but ready at least to leave home and be out of LA. Los Angeles reminded him of his mother, every street sign, every restaurant, the greenery and flowers, it all came back to his mom.

What he had explained to her as the Ultrabase wasn’t just some place that he was staying at, it was a literal industrial modern masterpiece of a mansion. The sleek design ebbed and flowed into the molding of the island it resided on. Ceilings higher than a museum’s, she traced her finger along every surface trying to soak in the elitism of it all. He reclined himself on the ginormous couch, watching her observe the surroundings.

To him, she was the best feature of the homebase. Where most things were cold and stricken with a detrimental weight of his responsibility, she was like a beam of no expectations. She gave him the space to just exist without pressure. That and she was always fighting with his robot assistant MINA which also made each time returning back from fighting a little easier to endure.

“Listen MINA, I just think that you’d be more effective if you were pink, also can you pass me my pencil case.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on candy and working on an assignment from one of her professors on her Master’s Committee. MINA used an extended robot hand to fly over the pencil case that had been in her backpack.

“If I was pink, it would detract from my integrated design.” MINA floats around her head, observing her completed work thus far. “Your work is completely correct, why are you changing the grammatical structure?”

“For the love of the process MINA, for the love of the process.”

Kenji just ate another bite of his New York Strip, enjoying the free entertainment. When he finished his meal, he asked if she wanted to go out for an adventure.

Matching helmets, black and gold design with her wearing one of his extra leather jackets just in case. For safety he justified. The cool Tokyo air felt even colder as they rushed around the streets, lane splitting and cutting in between cars. The headphones had built in bluetooth so they were listening to a shared playlist they had made. Blending rap, RNB, pop, and EDM crafted the right ambiance needed for a late night drive.

In some ways, Tokyo was similar to LA. She reasoned that it might have been the lights to a certain degree, but here, the lights were brighter and bolder. Neon signs and air pollution were the common denominators between the two cities.

He takes a corner just a little too hard, and she instinctively tightens her arms around his waist, tucking her head a little closer to his shoulder.

They end up taking a break for a minute, pulling off the side of the road to grab some vending machine drinks. Tea for her, coffee for him.

That’s when his watch begins to blare red. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, she didn’t need to wear it around he told her, but the cool diamond gem had grown on her. Just as a precaution if the case workers came around to check on their ‘marriage’, that was the explanation she gave to him for why she always had her ring on. They never talked about why he always kept his on too, despite interviews asking and continuously pestering him about the ring. The baseball world had just concluded it was either a secret wife or for the style since he never gave an answer.

“I think you have to go do your whole superman thing.” She pointed at his watch that he was trying to ignore.

Kenji groaned a little, calling for a ride so she could get back to his place. MINA had already gotten to them by the time the watch had started to blare.

“Ken, it is time to mitigate the primary conflict in Shinjuku.” MINA did a bow with their robot body. She tried to throw a pebble at MINA to test for reaction time, that being said MINA caught the rock. She shrugged.

Back at the dungeon, also known as the Ultrabase much to her distaste for a name like that, she was surprised to see an elderly man with a crutch sitting on the couch in the central living room.

He was watching a big hologram screen, which now clearly looked like Kenji (in Ultraman form) fighting with a pink monster dragon thing. When he got a particularly nasty body slam she sucked in some air through her teeth.

“Ahh, hello strange girl in the Ultraman base.” He circled her for a moment, his crutch slowing down his assessment of her.

“Ahh, hi strange grandpa in the Ultraman base.” She waved, and the older gentleman introduced himself as Professor Sato.

“Kenji’s dad?” She checked.

“Yes, I’m his father.” She nods, getting a glass of water.

When Kenji gets back to the base, that’s when things get a little crazy. What was once a slimy egg turned into a cute komodo dragon mutant baby. She was all over the baby in an instant, trying to get to know it better.

“She’s adorable. I love her.” She was tapping the glass of the containment cylinder, cooing at the infant Kaiju. The baby seemed to respond positively, making little coos back and stomping around a little.

Kenji just folded his arms and took it all in. He was still trying to get rid of his dad, despite his father’s willingness to help out. He just couldn’t balance it all without Hayao’s help, he realized. Especially when Emi needed more assistance, and help avoiding the KDF’s insistent attacks. She loved Emi, despite the Kaiju having the ability to totally crush her, Emi reciprocated quickly to her. Considering the contrast in how long it took for Kenji to demonstrate that his Ultaman form and his regular self were the same through systematic desensitization.

They became a family, even if a family consisted of a pro-baseball player, his fake wife/best friend, an estranged but loving father, a Kaiju baby, and a robot assistant.

A learning curve consisted of a lot more mistakes and complaining, but at the end of it all, Kenji had to commit. He was Ultraman now. He needed to protect Tokyo. At least now he had a support system he could rely on. Slowly, changes occurred with him. Putting others before himself, really truly thinking about life and the value of other human beings. The catalyst was a Kaiju baby named Emi, especially the way that said Kaiju baby loved openly.

The misadventures of raising Emi were wild and laced with KDF fights, but in the end, Kenji and his dad were brought together by defending Kaiju in a unique way. The monsters weren’t intentionally villains, humans had just made them out to be like that. That’s life though, people defining and categorizing things into concepts and schemas that made sense to them.

That’s what his dad was doing when he and Emiko separated. Hayao was trying to find ways to open human eyes to the world and beauty of Kaiju. Living in tandem with them may not have been immediately possible but why shouldn’t it be ever given a chance? Professor Sato, his dad, wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he was trying his best to make the world a little bit better. Forgiving a father who he once believed left him wasn’t an easy road, but it was a path that needed to be traveled.

Saying goodbye to Emi was rough, yet, the Kaiju Island was close enough to go and visit on occasion. Baseball was great, winning the championship and going into a post-season diffusement.

Yet, Kaiju still came and wreaked havoc, and Kenji still had to fight and protect Japan. Even if that meant coming back to the base bloodied and bruised. She was almost always there, wrapping his arms in white bandages and wiping off blood with towels. Running ice baths and making cold soba noodles.

Which is what she was doing at this moment, rinsing the noodles in ice water and stirring a sweet sauce for Kenji to pour over rather than dunk his noodles into.

He was resting a frozen water bottle on his shoulder, hoping it would numb the pain, the Kaiju just had to try and rip his good arm off didn’t it?

“Hey, can I come in? Got your soba.” She knocked on the bathroom door using her elbow, since both hands were carrying bowls of soba with sauce containers precariously resting on her lower palms.

“Yeah, I’m wearing swim trunks.”

“Good because I’m not ready to see you naked, like, ever.” She chuckled, but pulled a chair next to the ceramic tub, breaking her chopsticks and saying a quick itadakimasu. He copied her, immediately drowning his noodles in the sauce she set on the edge of the tub. She rolled her eyes at his action.

He laughed a little, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, “What, it tastes better like this.”

She hummed an affirmative sound, but her eyes glinted with an agree to disagree conclusion.

The noodles had been fully digested, but she was still there, dipping her fingers into the water and making small swirls. The frigid temperature makes her fingers feel detached from her body.

Kenji lowers himself in the tub for a moment, getting his hair wet. When he came back up, she was pushing his bangs away from his face, smiling. Her hand stayed in his hair, brushing the strands away from his face as they dropped droplets down the back of his neck and then into the tub again. The ice cubes bumped into each other, melting slowly but steadily.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, uttering a few words, “Hot tub?”

She nods and heads out of the bathroom to get a swimsuit on.

The pool on the second to bottom floor of the base had an attached hot tub. He turned on the low lights, leaving the space in a warm brown shade of yellow light. The glass wall gave an outlook over the city and the ocean that surrounded the base.

MINA zoomed into the pool area, “Shall I put on some smooth jazz Ken?”

“No. Do not do that.” Kenji waved off MINA with red stinging his ears. MINA states they were just trying to speed up the whole process, and quoted one of her favorite phrases adding an addendum of MINA’s understanding and AI learning, “For the love of the process, especially if it's about love.”

The hot tub was warm, not quite boiling, but warm. She rested her arms on the outside ledge of the tub, looking out through the window. Kenji came to her side and replicated how she was positioned, before remembering that his shoulder hurt and gave out a small sound of displeasure. She giggled a little, rubbing the back of his shoulder where there weren't any distinct injuries.

“You’ve changed a lot since we were in high school.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head so that it was on her crossed arms.

“That’s what happens with time.” He wants to ask why she brought up his self-improvement. But she cuts him off before any words settle in his mouth.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a lot of great changes. You’re actually friends with your teammates now. And you’ve taken on this whole responsibility for an entire country. You aren’t just Kenji Sato, you’re also Ken Sato, and Ultraman, and I like to think you’ve fully embraced your father again, and not to mention our friendship.” She looks up at the ceiling, “You’re like an actual adult now.”

“I’ve been an adult for way longer than you.”

“But not like this, like an actual responsible person. You can juggle everything now.”

She sniffles a little, “Which is why I can understand if you don’t want me to stay once I finish my program you know?”

Kenji grabs a hold of one of her hands, “What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d want to kick you out?”

She shrugs.

He continues, “I hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with me. You know too much about my dark secrets.” She smirks in response to his teasing tone.

Kenji dives deeper into things he wished he would’ve said earlier.

“I mean, you already have the ring to prove it too.” Her mouth gapes open a little, raising an eyebrow.

It would be amiss to say that this wouldn’t alter everything, but it was time.

“I know that we’ve only ever been friends, but you need to know what I feel.”

“I think I already know.” She cups the side of his face, and he pulls her into him, and makes her face him. She’s sitting on the expanse of his thighs, and he looks up at her from how he’s leaning back onto the wall of the hot tub.

Wrapping arms around his neck, careful to not rest too much of her arm on his shoulder, she brings their noses to brush against each other.

“Mine now? Right? You’re mine now?” When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Pretty please? Mine?”

“I thought you said you never begged?” She grazes his lips with her own and he sighs with a light shudder in his chest.

“I’ll beg for this, for you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tightens his grip and pulls her flush to him. Angling his neck up and tilting his head, he kisses her. She smiles too much for it to be a proper kiss, but he keeps pressing against her mouth. When she stops smiling and starts responding with her own pressure of lips to lips, he has to suppress the hunger to bite her.

His tongue brushes against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth for him, he runs his tongue along the inner lining of her mouth before biting on the tip of her tongue when she tries to take her turn. He chuckles when she pulls back a little, nose crinkled and lips wet.

“C’mere.” He trails kisses down the side of her face, going to her neck and collarbones, glad that her swimsuit was low cut enough for him to graze the top of her chest, where the rise of her curves began. She just presses kisses to the top of his head while her hand tangles into the hair at his nape, twisting the locks into fake curls.

When their fingers were wrinkled from the water in the hot tub, they showered and curled up on his bed, watching a meaningless show.

“So, my thoughts are that we can just skip the dating thing and go straight to marriage since legally we already are.”

“My mom will kill me.”

“Good thing she loves me, just say we eloped.” He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her down to lay on the pillows. She snuggles into the silk blend pillow cases and murmurs a little, tired from a long day. He caresses the side of her face and rests his hand on her hip.

MINA flits around the base, erasing specific footage from the recordings in the pool room, for everyone’s benefit.

Kenji paced back and forth in the base, waiting for her to get back from babysitting Chiho, hoping that Ami’s date would end shockingly early for his benefit.

He’s still on the phone with her, “I don’t want to wait to see you.” He kicks a throw pillow that had fallen on the ground from the couch.

“Have patience, I’ll be back around one AM.”

“This is spousal abuse.”

“It really isn’t”

MINA chimed in and agreed with her, so she exclaimed and said that even a robot knows the truth that Kenji was just a little clingy.

“I think you should stop watching other people’s babies and come take care of your family. And by family, I mean me.”

“I know what you meant.”

He looks to the clock, three more hours of waiting would be excruciating. But at least she’d be back in time for him to wish her an extremely early happy anniversary with the new ring he got.

[mydearestbeloved]

#0.1 [Chapter]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: Implied Yandere

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You stood in the crowd, just outside the Korean Hunter’s Association building, watching as the result of the rank re-evaluation was officially announced. The news that South Korea now had its 10th S-Rank hunter had swept through the media like wildfire. Cameras flashed, reporters clamored, and the air buzzed with excitement.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you subtly edged away from the throng of people, slipping behind a pillar of a nearby building for cover.

“(Name).”

You flinched slightly at the sound of his voice, turning to see Jinwoo approaching, slipping away from the crowd with ease.

You glanced around nervously. Thankfully, most of the crowd’s focus was still on the association’s announcement—aside from the sharp glare directed at you two from a certain S-Rank Guild Master.

“Let’s go.” You whispered under your breath softly, just enough for Jinwoo to hear as he felt your hands on his arm, tugging him away from the commotion.

Once you were far enough, you let go of Jinwoo and let a out a breath of relieve. “You don’t need to go back there, right?

He shrugged, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Not really my thing.”

“Right,” You cleared your throat and turn around, walking in the direction of your house in this world.

“I really don’t understand why did you drag me along. It’s not like there’s a dungeon nearby.”

He chuckled softly while following you, “You make it sound like I always forced you to join me.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Don’t you?”

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Maybe.”

You sighed, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Jinwoo didn’t respond right away, but the corner of his lips quirked up in that faint, teasing smile of his. He took a step closer, close enough that your back could feel the heat radiating from him.

“You don’t like it?”

You blinked, surprised by the question—and by the sudden closeness.

The back of your neck felt warm.

Before you could think of a reply, the system chimed in.

Only for you to shot an exasperated look at the invisible interface.

[Dear, Trial Player (Name)_

How adorable you are!]

You really just want to go home right now.

___

Ever since arriving in the world of Solo Leveling and realizing your knack for healing—and occasionally harming—through magic, you’d made it a point to stay discreet.

As far as you knew, there were only three mentioned S-rank healers in the manhwa.

Two of them ended up dead.

You wanted to stay low-key. A C-rank hunter with a mild skillset was much easier to hide in the crowd.

That had always been your plan.

But ever since someone—no names necessary, but you could definitely point fingers—had dragged you into his life, that had become increasingly difficult. Especially now, when Jinwoo had just been reevaluated as Korea’s 10th S-rank hunter.

It had been a few days since then.

Everywhere he went, eyes were glued to him. The media swarmed him. Admirers, reporters, other hunters, and even government officials were desperate to get a piece of the newly minted S-rank, and—unfortunately for you—his close proximity to you meant that more often than not, those eyes fell on you as well.

“Isn’t that Hunter Sung’s teammate?” you heard someone whisper as you passed a group of reporters.

“I’ve seen her with him a lot lately,” another murmured.

You kept your head low, hoping no one would bother you. But it wasn’t long before a couple of curious fans caught sight of you, phones in hand.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you part of Hunter Sung Jinwoo’s guild?” one of them asked, eyes wide with excitement.

You froze for a second, trying to maintain your composure. “Uh, no, not really,” you mumbled, inching backward. “Just... around, I guess.”

Before the fans could press further, a voice interrupted, smooth and calm.

“Is everything all right here?” Jinwoo appeared at your side as if materializing from the shadows, his presence instantly commanding attention. He glanced at the fans, who quickly became flustered and scurried away with murmured apologies.

You let out a relieved sigh, but when you turned to Jinwoo, you could see it—the subtle amusement in his eyes. His lips twitched ever so slightly, as if he was trying not to smile.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Enjoying what?” Jinwoo asked innocently, though his tone betrayed him.

“This. Me getting dragged into the spotlight because of you. You know I hate it, and yet—!.” You crossed your arms, giving him a look that you hoped conveyed just how done you were with the whole situation.

Jinwoo shrugged, though there was a gleam in his grey eyes. “You’re not exactly making it easy for yourself by sticking around me all the time.”

“You’re the one who keeps dragging me into things!” you huffed, exasperated. “I didn’t ask for any of this attention.”

Jinwoo’s lips curved into a barely concealed smile. “Is that so?”

You glared at him, feeling that familiar sense of déjà vu.

He’d always had this way of nudging you into situations where you’d have to stay close to him. Whether it was battles, raids, or even mundane activities like going grocery shopping, he always seemed to find an excuse to keep you around.

Lately, though, it had become... more frequent.

You were already part of his every raid, now he was insisting you to join him on seemingly random outings, or just appearing at your side when you least expected it.

___

You had never been one for the spotlight.

Hate, you think, was too strong of a word to be used to describe your overall view of fame.

Most of the time, you just felt uneasy.

Sure, there were upsides to it—more money, more respect—but the downsides?

Fans had already started whispering about you, speculating who you were, while the more cynical ones cast suspicious looks your way. Some of them even accused you of riding Jinwoo’s coattails.

The attention, the scrutiny, the whispers of speculation about who you were and what your relationship with Jinwoo might be. It sent a cold shiver down your spine just thinking about the implications.

It was bad enough being noticed by the public, but what really made your skin crawl was the idea of anyone digging deeper. If anyone ever found out the truth—that you were far stronger than your rank suggested, a False Ranker—the mere thought of it happening kept you up at night.

Your uncanny power. Your real identity.

These secrets became your very own Pandora’s box.

A nightmare waiting to happen.

So now, as you stood a few steps behind Jinwoo who calmly answered questions from yet another reporter, you found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, trying your best to disappear into the background.

Which was hard, considering how often people kept glancing your way.

You couldn’t help but recoil slightly, shifting closer to Jinwoo’s shadow. The glare of the cameras, the whispers from the mass, other hunters, and staffs in the building, it all made you incredibly uncomfortable. And Jinwoo… Jinwoo seemed to notice.

He didn’t show it outright, but there was something in the subtle way he would angle his body, positioning himself just enough to block you from view, that made it clear he was aware of your discomfort.

Still, you noticed this strange glint in his eyes every time. Something almost too pleased about the way you shied away from limelight.

“Why do you look so smug?” you muttered under your breath, shooting him a side-eye as he wrapped up his interview.

He glanced at you, his expression neutral, but you saw the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Smug? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re hiding something.”

“Hmm?” Jinwoo’s voice was smooth, almost teasing. “I’m just answering questions.”

“Yeah, right.” You rubbed your temples, already feeling an incoming migraine. “We’ve had this conversation before. Why did you drag me along for something like this?”

 “You’re important to me.”

You blinked. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the noise of the surrounding world fading into the background.

Jinwoo’s expression shifted. There was something about the way he said it, the intensity in his gaze—

“And besides,” He raised an eyebrow, “I like seeing you squirm.”

The teasing edge returning to his tone, coupled by his bluntness, almost gave you a whiplash.

You groaned, swatting his arm lightly, earning a chuckle from him. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey,” Jinwoo said suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. The interview was over, and the reporters was walking away. Jinwoo turned his full attention to you, his gaze softening slightly. “Don’t worry about the attention. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

You blinked, caught off guard for the second time today by the sudden shift in his tone. “Really?”

“Really.” He gave you a small, reassuring smile.

And your heart did a funny little flip.

___

You walked side by side with Jinwoo, the quiet streets of Seoul providing a temporary escape from the usual chaos of your day-to-day life. The air was cool, the sun beginning to set, casting long shadows across the pavement. The peacefulness of it all paved way for your mind to drift, away from the hum of conversation in between.

There was something that had been nagging at the back of your mind for days now.

Lately, Jinwoo had been hovering, becoming something more constant than before. It wasn’t overbearing per se, but it was hard to ignore.

A particular memory resurfaced.

Before you were thrown into this world, before you had become the "Trial Player" for the system, you had been an avid reader of romance and the darker side of its narratives. You’d devoured stories of possessive heroes, morally gray characters who fiercely guarded their love interests, even to the point of obsession. It was intriguing, to see from their perspective, to see how different minds could spiral down into the far-end of an emotion most known for its warmth, for its nurturing side, for its healing.

Truly, the depths of love unknown and the lines that separate it blurred.

A passing thought, wild and ridiculous, almost made you laugh at yourself, if not for how persistent it became the more you tried to dismiss it.

As your eyes shifted to Jinwoo—

You imagined a dragon, fierce and terrifying, guarding his treasure—a princess locked away in his tower, away from prying eyes—

Only he could admire her beauty, only he could treasure her.

A pirate, feared on the high seas, taking his pearl—a siren hidden away inside a tank, on his ship that would soon set sail—

Her enchanting voice would never be heard by another soul. Only he could hear her song.

A king, mighty and fair, ruling over his subjects—his beloved queen confined in his castle, a gilded cage by his own making—

To adore her. To worship her as she deserved in his mind.

She was his and no one else’s.

You blinked, quickly shaking your head internally to rid yourself of the absurd thoughts.

No way, you told yourself. Jinwoo isn’t like that.

He respected your boundaries… most of the time. He was already protective because you were in dangerous situations together all the time. Technically speaking, you had saved his life and he saved yours. For Jinwoo, the Solo Player Sung Jinwoo, to harbor some possessive, obsessive feelings toward you? You were yet to be delusional enough to believe that.

Sure, he’d been a little overprotectiveas of late—clinging to you in his own subtle way. Now that you thought it over, was that too strange?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jinwoo’s voice pulled you from your spiraling train of thought. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his usual calm expression betraying nothing of what was going on in his mind. But there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

For now, you didn’t think so.

Yet, the way he shifted slightly, stepping a little closer to you, was not helping your case at all.

You forced a smile, hoping your stray thoughts didn’t show on your face. “Just… thinking about your rank re-evaluation,” you lied. “It’s a lot of attention.” —for the both of us.

Jinwoo nodded, though the small, knowing smile on his lips made you wonder if he could see right through you. “You’ve always hated the spotlight.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “I just… I don’t want all the attention.”

He hummed softly, as if he were amused by your answer. “It’s safer this way.”

You glanced at him; eyebrow raised. “Safer?”

“For you,” he said, his voice low. His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Staying out of the spotlight means staying out of trouble. It’s better if people don’t know how powerful you are.”

There was something about the way he said that—better if people don’t know. It made your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t fully understand. The words should have been reassuring, but instead, they made you feel… trapped, somehow. Like Jinwoo was quietly acknowledging that he was the only one who knew your true strength, and that was how he preferred it.

You swallowed, trying to shake the feeling off. “You really think so?”

He glanced at you again, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn his eyes darkened slightly. “I know so.”

Silence stretched between you, and you could feel your heart start to race in a way that had nothing to do with physical danger. Something about this conversation felt… different. Jinwoo wasn’t being threatening, but there was an underlying tension in his words, like he was saying more than what his calm tone implied.

Your mind flashed back to those stories.

Fiction as they were—dramatic, exaggerated—you were living in one right now.

No way, you told yourself again, more firmly this time. Jinwoo isn’t like that.

But the way he stayed so close, the way he seemed to grow tense whenever others got too near to you, the way he seemed delighted every time you recoiled from being noticed— as if you’d done his job for him, it was hard to ignore.

Was it really so far-fetched?

You took a deep breath, deciding to push the thought aside for now. The tension of the recent events was getting to you. You need to think this through once again with a clearer mind.

You peered at him one last time—the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch for just a second—before turning your head forward, continuing your walk, with him following right behind you.

No, Jinwoo wasn’t like that.

But the possibility sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

End Note:

This is all over the place, and I think I went too heavy with the foreshadowing, oh well.

[rainylana]

“Somebody else.”

Modern!bully!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: your bully realizes he’s in love with you.

warnings: god i love this so much and i’m so pleased with how it turned out. it’s short, but i’m in love with it! bully!eddie, mentions of drinking and getting high, drunk and high sex but it’s consensual, enemies to lovers, some brief smut and groping, heavy making out, this is based of my last relationship lol i basically lived this whole fic lmao. reader and eddie are over 18! based on my favorite song somebody else by the 1975!

He hates you. At lease he thought he did. It had been that way since he could remember. So why, all of a sudden, was he looking at you like that? 

Eddie never looked at you like another human being. He treated you like a toy, something to play with and keep him busy, but when he got bored, he tossed you to the side like you meant nothing.

He got off on being mean to you, that should have been his first clue. Pulling your hair in class, tripping you in the hallway, copying your homework, taking most of your food at lunch.

He seemed to thrive off making you miserable, gaining pleasure on those days where he could see his antics were getting to you more than they usually did.

The only one who saw through this was Steve, who dared not to say anything, because he knew how Eddie would react, and you’d pay for it in the end. He kept his mouth shut, but he knew the truth.

And apparently, so did Eddie tonight.

You looked so carefree. So..peaceful and without a single care in the world. You looked beautiful, he came to realize, staring at you from across the room, back to the wall and cigarette hanging from his lips.

It was the annual end of the year party at Steve’s house, one where almost everyone in town would show up at. Even Eddie. He only did because he knew you’d be there. His second clue.

The dance floor was crowded, yet Eddie could only seem to focus on you. Your face glowed in shades of flashing colors, purple, red’s and blue’s as you danced, hands in the air as you twirled and spun in circles, legs kicking out and hips swinging side to side.

“I don’t want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else”

The speakers screamed the lyrics of Somebody Else by The 1975, a song you had requested. Eddie had never heard of it before, but after tonight, he’d never be able to get it out of his head, not with the scene you displayed for him.

“Our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else”

He was high, that’s what it was. He was stoned out of his mind and drunk. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, blinking as quickly as he could around the room, clearing his throat. He was hidden in the corner of the room, his face glowing red from the disco ball at his side, red solo cup in hand with some sort of mysterious liquid that burned on the way down.

But his eyes found you again. He couldn’t help it.

“I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone and then leaving with somebody else”

Steve was watching Eddie. He was watching both of you, but especially Eddie. The way his eyes wouldn’t leave you, the way his fingers clenched around the plastic cup when you moved your hips a certain way. He smirked, making his way across the room. Eddie barely noticed his presence.

“Make your move, Munson.” Steve clapped his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze of encouragement before returning to the spiked punch bowl.

Eddie didn’t have words to speak, giving Harrington a glance before his eyes were back on your body.

“No, I don’t want your body but I’m picturing your body with somebody else”

Images flashed in his eyes, recalling the days he spent bullying you in school, the days you cried and broke down when he’d said one too many things. He gulped, suddenly feeling very foolish of himself. Make your move, Munson. He had no move to make, did he?

The chorus repeated and you let your head lull back, eyes closed as if the lyrics were speaking to you like they were to him. He wasn’t the only one who thought you looked beautiful. His attention flickered to the strange man, a man he did not recognize, making his way through the crowd to dance with you.

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. You were his and his alone. You always had been. It seemed tonight was the night he needed to tell you that.

The song turned to the instrumental beat as he shoved everyone out of the way, heavy boots tapping against the hardwood floor. “Excuse me.” He very much rudely shoved your fellow dance partner to the side, ignoring his exclamation, including yours.

“I Don’t want your body but I hate to think about you with somebody else”

“Eddie!” Your eyes widened, voice barely audible over the loud music.

“Our love has gone cold, you’re intertwining your soul with somebody else”

His thick, large hands grabbed at your face, pulling you into his mouth with a hot, desperate kiss that screamed I love you, I always have. The song continued to play and he continued to kiss you, the beat dropped and you kissed back, the initial shock wearing off and realizing just exactly who it was that was kissing you.

You pushed him back, but only briefly, the look of fear across his face before you jumped back into his arms.

“I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone and then leaving with somebody else”

Your lips molded together like a piece of sculpted clay, tongues dancing like everyone else in the room, noses fitting together lockets.

His hand was dropping from your face to grab your hand, dragging you through the crowd and upstairs. Neither of you said a word, heart in your throat as you practically ran to keep up with him. He slammed the door to a spare room, a room he’d drunkenly slept in many nights, and pushed you against the wall.

The music vibrated underneath you, and you could hear the lyrics continue your favorite song. His mouth was on you again, lifting up your thighs to wrap around his torso.

“You dance with me,” He husked between deep, sloppy kisses. “and only me. Got it?”

You whimpered into the kiss, pressing your hips where your clothed heat met his groin. “Yes.” You nodded furiously. “Only you.”

“Only me.” He barely whispered, repeating you quickly as his hands slipped down to your ass, carrying you to the bed behind him. He dropped you, roughly yanking down your panties with a quick movement that had your head feeling fuzzy.

His full hand cupped your pussy, feeling you briefly before he was pulling out his cock. He couldn’t wait. The song was still playing, and he could see the way your lips twitched the lyrics as he thrusted into you sharply, dragging a long moan from you as you pushed up the bed.

“Somebody else.” You barely choked out the words, drunk yourself, as you both fucked each other.