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[lheesluv]

I Want You (l.hs)

Soft kisses turned into deep kisses. If Heeseung thought you were horny, he was even hornier.

PAIRINGS - soft dom!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE - smut

WARNINGS - smut (mdni), p in v, pwop, protected raw sex, breeding kink, creampie, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), horny ass mfs, pet names, Imk if i missed anything!

WC - 2k

A/N — yall know what it is… another scene from my wattpad series "My Secret Lover.” also… happy 200 followers, yay!!! lowkey poured 3/4 of my heart into this so…

© All rights reserved Iheesluv do not copy, repost, or translate.

"Heeseung," you muttered. "Hm?" He hums, still pressing light butterfly kisses on your neck. You let out a small whine, tugging on the back of his hair gently. "What is it that you want, love? Hm?" He's clearly teasing you, forcing you to tell him with words.

"Want you," you admit, barely a whisper but loud enough for him to hear. "Do you now?" you nodded, pleading. "Yes, please."

You watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head in awe, admiring his upper body.

He raises his eyebrow, looking down at you. "Are you going to watch me or get undressed too?" You nodded shyly and started to undress yourself as he undressed his lower half.

You watched him with hooded eyes as he jerked his length against your bareness. He was doing this as if he was teasing you.

"Seung-ah," you called his name out in a whine. "Yes, love?" He answers you with a sly smile. He knew what he was doing. He knew it made you lose my patience.

He held his length against your core and slowly grinded the tip of his dick up and down your wet slit. Your eyes closed tight, squirming under him. "P-Please," you begged for more.

"Hm," He hums softly, still slowly grinding against you, spreading more slick. The head of his cock occasionally bumps your clit with every drag. "I think you need some prepping first, don't you think, darling?" He says, retracting from you.

You whine at the sudden loss of friction. "Shh, shh. I got you, baby. You'll get me soon," he says, spreading your thighs apart with the palm of his hand.

Slowly, he collects your wetness with his middle finger up and down before slipping the finger inside. The sudden intrusion made you gasp. Your hands immediately gripped his sheets under you.

He moved his finger in and out a few times before slipping a second finger in. You let out a shaky breath, followed by a soft moan as you felt the pad of his fingers massaging the inside of your walls.

The sopping wet sound echoed in the four-walled room as his fingers thrust in and out of your pussy every time. Your cheeks flushed pink feeling embarrassed, but it was slowly forgotten when the pleasure took over.

"You're so wet, baby. Who's all of this for? Hm?" He coos. "Y-You, for you," you gasped, arching your back at the feeling.

He pulled his fingers away and before you could complain, the warmness of his tongue came in contact with your pussy.

You gasped. Your hands that were once gripping the best sheets shot up to hold a grip on his hair. "F-Fuck, Heeseung." He hums against your core, flicking his tongue up and down your slit, lapping up your wetness.

You tightened your grip on his hair, causing him to groan against you. His arms were wrapped around your thighs, speeding up each lick. The sharp point of his nose continuously stimulated your clit. "T-Too much."

Heeseung pulls away with a string of salvia connected from your wetness to his lips. He used the back of his hand to wipe his lips before hovering over you again.

He leans in to kiss you again as his arms roam around your body. He pulls away briefly, still centimeters away from you. "Heeseung," you whisper. "Yes, darling?"

"I want you."

Heeseung looks at you with soft eyes before chuckling softly. His fingers tucked a few loose strands behind your ear. "You know I'm not doing this to get you back right? I genuinely want to be with you." You nodded, smiling softly at the boy.

"Only if you say yes, my love."

"Yes. Please, Heeseung."

He positioned himself in missionary position. He looked at you with worry. "Condom. Fuck, I left it in my car." "I'm on a pill today, it's okay," you assured him.

With no hesitation, he slowly pushed himself in. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the tip of his cock brush past your cervix. He groans once he's bottomed out completely.

"Fuck, so tight," he says with a shaky breath. You let out a mewl, feeling the veins of his cock with every drag. Your hands went to clutch his sheets, unable to take the pleasure.

He had wrapped his hands under your thighs, pulling you closer to his pelvis. Surely, marks will be left on your thighs, but that was the least of your worries right now.

His length got coated with your slick after every thrust. His pace gradually sped up, easily slipping in and out of you due to your wet arousal.

Your back arched at the immense feeling, your head throwing back into his pillow. "G-God, you're s-so good," you breathed out past your parted lips.

"Yeah? Does it feel good?"

"Yes, fuck yes it feels so good," you blabbered out, trying to surpass the moans that wanted to slip out.

His sweaty bangs covered his forehead, sweat threatening to drip. His eyebrows were furrowed as his parted lips let out stuttered moans.

Your own eyebrows furrowed not only at the pleasure but at how goddamn hot Heeseung looked right now.

"Fuckkk," you whined, trying to open your eyes again. You noticed how he would let out a small pant after his cock would slam into you.

"Shit, you're fucking dripping, darling," he chuckles softly, gently squeezing your thighs. "Rub yourself for me, baby."

You obeyed his order and slowly rubbed your clit. "Oh, f-fuck." Your eyes shot open, surprised at the new sensation. His cock head managed to hit your g-spot so well. You cried his name out in pleasure.

"You're not going to cum yet, are you, love? Hm?" he asks me, still lunging his cock in me. You quickly shook your head. "N-No."

"Good because I'm not done with you."

He releases his grip from your thighs and balances himself on your sides, chest to chest. Your arms moved to hold a grip on his back.

You felt his breath against the side of your neck with every thrust. The room was filled with your skin slapping and constant moans. You hated how quiet Heeseung kept himself.

"I wanna hear you too," you whispered in his ear. Heeseung let his bottom lip go from his bite and let out a sultry moan.

He then bent your right leg and pressed it up to your chest. His hips kept moving and never faltered. He would let out groans when he felt your nails digging into his back.

"My pretty perfect girl," Heeseung pants in the crook of your neck, snapping his hips against yours. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling him hit every right spot. "Fuck, H-Heeseung, please, please, please," you cried.

"Are you close, baby? Do you want to cum?" He asked, almost teasing you. You answered him, nodding your head repeatedly. His hips somehow moved faster, fucking you faster to your climax.

Your body felt weak. You just laid there, letting him use you as a fuck toy.

"C-Cumming, Fuck, I-I'm cumming! H-Heeseung!" You cried out. Your high-pitched moans filled the room as you hit your climax.

Heeseung left soft kisses on your face as you calmed down from your high. "You didn't get to finish yet," you said in a soft tone. Heeseung smiled and stroked your head. "Think you can take more of me?" He asks in a teasing tone.

You simply nodded. You purposely clenched your walls around his hard cock in you, forcing a groan out of him.

He pulled out of you, causing you to let out a small whine at the loss of friction.

"Turn around for me."

You turned your body around and stuck your ass up. He positions his cock at your hole and massages your ass.

"Push it back on me, baby," he ordered you softly. You use your knees to push yourself back on him. Pushing his dick in yourself felt different, but good.

You whined into his pillow, breathing heavily at the stretch. You lifted your head up and turned your neck back, waiting for your next order.

"Come on. Fuck yourself on me. Make me cum."

The insides of your stomach turned at his lewd words. You start using your knees, fucking yourself back on his dick. His hands that were on your ass guided you with each thrust.

"F-Fucking shit, you're so good, baby," Heeseung sighs. From how weak his voice sounded, you already knew how he looked. His eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed. His teeth biting down on his lip to hold back his moans, wanting to assert his dominance.

You whimpered back in response, feeling every inch of his length move in and out of you. Your legs started to feel weak. You turned your head back, admiring the state Heeseung was in.

"Please fuck me," you begged him. "Tired already?" You nodded, biting the bottom of your lip, feeling him thrust into you slowly.

You dropped your head down and buried your face in his pillow. My loud moans and cries were muffled, allowing you to hear his groans and moans better.

"God, you're so wet. All for me, baby?" he asked you, panting. You nodded your head. "Y-Yes. All for y-you, Hee." "Fuckkk," Heeseung moans, gripping your waist tighter, slamming his hips against your ass.

"Shit! Just like t-that, fuck!" You sobbed out in pleasure. "Just like that?" he asks you, hitting that spot repeatedly. "Fuck! Y-Yes, yes," you moaned, sloppily moving your hips back on him.

As you got near your second climax, your walls clenched around him more frequently. His balls slapped against your ass after every hard thrust.

"You like me deep inside you like this, don't you? God, you're so fucking p-perfect. You're all mine, f-fuck," Heeseung babbles out as he moves his hips at a fast pace. You lay there, only being able to let out moans.

The more he talked, the closer it brought you to your climax. You managed to turn your head back again, wanting to see him.

"I-I'm close, baby. J-Just a little more, please," he moans out with closed eyes and clenched jaw. "You're gonna let me cum in you, right? Won't you, my pretty princess?" His pace never slowed down as he rambled out dirty words.

You didn't have the energy to respond. You only clenched around his thick length and moaned. "You'd like that, won't you, baby?" His hips started to stutter as he got close to his release.

"F-Fuck, you would like that— me filling you with my cum," he answered for you. His words rather seemed to be guiding him closer to his climax.

"Please c-cum in me, H-Heeseung," you managed to speak past your stuttered moans. His hips moved faster and harder. The wet noise, moans, and slapping intensified.

"Oh god— fuck, Heeseung," you moan with a sigh, gripping the sheets tightly. His breath got shorter and shorter, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Turn around. I need to see your face when you cum for me."

You did as he said and he took no time to plunge himself back into you. "Fuck, your tight pussy is gonna make cum, baby," he moaned, throwing his head back as he thrusts into you.

"Please cum inside of me," you cried out, desperate for his cum. "Keep talking to me like t-that," Heeseung groans, his grip on your hips tightening.

"Want your cum so bad," you whimpered. You chewed on my bottom lip, holding back your moans, wanting to hear him when he cums. You watched as his eyebrows knit together again, his teeth biting down harshly on his bottom lip when the pleasure felt too good.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm cumming. Fucking cumming in this tight pussy," his stuttered moans blended together with your high-pitched moans. "Cum with me, baby."

You felt him twitch in me before his warm cum painted your walls as you released with him. He pulls out and watches his cum flow out of you in awe.

You both panted heavily from the rough workout. Heeseung dropped his body beside you and pulled you close to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, rubbing the sides of your waist. "For what?" "For being a good girl for me," he giggles, rubbing the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck.

[thecreelhouse]

stuck

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. MDNI

WC: 4.6k+

Includes: no plot all filth, unrealistic “stuck” porn trope, friends to horny idiots, dirty talk, pet names/name calling, unprotected PiV sex, oral (f receiving), briefest mention of monsterfucking, brief anal play, a smidge of humiliation kink with a healthy side of a praise kink, d/s dynamic, etc.

A/N: Literally got this idea from a certain filthy piece of DBD fanart that I can’t find, but if you know the one I’m talking about, please lmk so I can properly credit for the inspo!! Is this ridiculous? Yes. Was this originally for Halloween? Also yes. We hate rules here (and deadlines). Hope y’all enjoy it <3 (dividers from @/saradika-graphics)

Everyone told Steve he was insane to venture back into the Upside Down, but he couldn’t leave you there alone. 

He felt sick for even leaving you behind at all. Quite honestly, no one felt good about evacuating without you, but it was smarter to go home, gear up, grab another working walkie, before wandering back into hell to find you.

See, among the chaos of trying to help Eddie, trying to keep Max alive, he worried about you and your unusual absence from the group, but you were strong enough to handle nearly anything— that much, he was confident on. You had fought side by side with him over the years, protecting everyone in the group, and one another; through demodogs, a shit summer job gone awry, and anything in between, you could hold your own with a bravery he wished he didn’t need to front at times.

That didn’t quell his anxiety one bit, though. When and where you had disappeared to, he wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t until your voice broke through over the airwaves, when Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were on the lake, that he felt relief you were at least alive. Your voice was tinny through the static.

“Guys?”

The only reason a signal existed at all was because the group floated just above the gate at the bottom of the lake— they just didn’t know it yet.

Steve had just thrown his sweater off, ready to dive in, when the sound of your voice made his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, give me the—“ He rocked the tiny boat a little too much for anyone’s comfort as he fell to his knees, grabbing the walkie from the floor. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Hi to you too, Harrington.”

Robin yanked the device from Steve’s grip, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Long fuckin’ story, but—“ Your voice cut out, static filling the dead air for a few seconds. “And that’s—“ Cut off again. “Upside Down, but I- I don’t know where I am, exactly. Why didn’t any of y’all tell me how bad this place sucks?”

Steve laughed to himself, unaware his eyes became glassy, hearing the familiar attitude and sailor’s mouth you carried; the other three noticed just how relieved and emotional he was right away. He grabbed the walkie back from Robin with shaky hands.

“We’re gonna come find you, we think we found a gate,” He rushed out. “Are you safe at least?”

“For now, but these—“ Signal cutting out, Steve hit the walkie a few times, as if that’d fix the disconnect between literal dimensions. “— Th- they’re everywhere. I don’t know where to hi— oh, shit—“ Your end fell dead again, leaving the four on edge, waiting for you to speak. White noise droned on for less than a minute; you weren’t coming back. 

Wasting not a second longer, Steve dove into the dark, chilled waters of the lake. He found the gate they suspected of, and broke the surface to alert his friends. As he relayed the information, rushed and panicked, wanting to find you as soon as possible, something tugged on his leg. Only startling the group at first, Steve was caught off guard, pulled under, back down to the bottom. He kicked, struggled, lungs burning as he fought off the urge to gasp for a breath he couldn’t dare to take.

It was all a blur, being dragged through the gate and tossed around like a rag doll; the bats diving towards him, finding an oar to defend himself with among the Upside Down’s mirrored decay of the lake, only to be bombarded by the gnarly creatures. They tore at his flesh as he was being strangled to death; brain growing fuzzy as he put up a good fight, he began to accept this fate. He wasn’t sure when his friends came through the gate, but one by one they retaliated against the bats, leaving just the one still strangling Steve.

“Get fucked!”

Unexpectedly, you appeared, slamming an ax— one you always left in your trunk, just in case— down onto one of its wings, chopping through completely, yet it still tried to flee as Steve bit down on its tail. Stunned, you all watched as Steve swung it around, slamming it down into the ground before violently ripping its spine out, fueled by pure rage.

Blood dripped from his mouth while he glanced up at you, rage and fear fading as relief flooded every inch of his heart. Despite your ragged appearance— covered in grime, soot, and blood— he was just happy to see you alive; a sight for sore eyes.

“I fuckin’ hate those things.” You wanted to run and hug him, but restrained yourself at the sight of his wounds. Taking in the sight of all four friends, you sighed, “Y’all okay?”

Another screech in the sky tore everyone’s attention away, “C’mon!” Where everyone ran off to the rocks, you made the mistake of running off in the opposite direction. The group of bats split off, heading towards both you and the others; when you looked over your shoulder, you watched Steve do the same, panic fueling you both to run for your lives.

You sprinted off towards the woods, hoping you’d find each other again soon, and alive.

Steve climbed back through the gate in Eddie’s trailer, and had searched for what felt like hours; he was losing hope of finding you by the minute. He knows you; you wouldn’t give up without a fight. You had to be alive, but dread was still building within him.

At least he caught a signal over the walkies.

“What do you mean you’re stuck?”

Your voice warbles through the speaker of Steve’s walkie, barely coherent through the sharp static. 

“Okay, okay, where are you?”

“The— g—“ Feedback rips through your words, shrill and sharp. “I’m tr—“

“You’re cutting out—“

“Gate! I’m—“ A drone of white noise floods the speaker, and you’re gone.

“Shit. Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!” He hits the device with his free hand, slams the buttons and messes with the knobs and antenna— if only he actually paid attention when Dustin tried showing him how to work this fucking thing.

He did hear you say ‘gate’ at least, but which one? You clearly weren’t at the one he just entered, and the one at the lake had closed up by now. 

This would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Steve’s exhausted, searching high and low for you, at every possible spot that crosses his mind. It had to have been another hour since he last heard from you, and he’s running out of ideas of where you could be.

“Checked around town,” He begins murmuring to himself, listing and eliminating options out loud. “No luck there… but— shit, didn’t check the library…” Could a gate even open in there? Anywhere was possible, right? And if that was the case, he’d have to tear through every room of every building, circle each structure, check any cars, houses, sheds, backyards, parks, the woods—

Christ, at this rate, he’ll never find you—

“Oof!” Steve loses his footing, tumbling over something in the stretch of woods he was combing through. Colliding with the ground, he groans on impact.

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolls over quickly, sitting up to find he had tripped over you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He scrambles to his feet, brushing debris off his body as he finally glances your way.

When you said you were stuck, Steve didn’t picture the sight before him now; you, halfway through a gate found in a tree trunk, unable to move because it began to close up around your waist. Your upper half is on the other side, but your bottom half is still stuck in the Upside Down.

“Oh…. You’re… wow, okay.” He snickers, “Yeah. You’re stuck, alright.”

Steve’s muffled cackling echoes through the slimy gate. You huff and roll your eyes; not like he can see.

“Just help me out of here, would ya’?!”

“Okay, okay… Jesus.” He drops to his knees, still towering over you— well, your back half, at least. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just fucking annoying. Maybe try, I dunno, pulling at the edges of it, or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how these things work—“

“Steve!”

“Okay, right, yeah, sorry.” He bites his bottom lip, stifling more laughter. It’s certainly an… awkward position, leaning over you from behind, but it’s the only way he can pull at the edges with both hands at once. He gives the gate’s edge a tug, but it’s stone solid. He tries again, this time with a grunt that has your mind wandering elsewhere. “Yeah, this is, uh… that’s not gonna work.”

“Oh my god, I’m stuck here forever,” You groan, kicking your feet. “I’m gonna die here.”

“Calm down, drama queen. Gimme a second, I’ll try again.” Steve keeps himself balanced on one knee, while the other leg plants a steady foot into the ground. Again, he attempts to pry open the gate, hoping to free you; his foot slips, causing him to rub against your backside.

Okay, ‘rub’ is a generous term— more like roughly falling against your ass, then whining over the pressure on his bulge.

“Steve, what the fuck?” You crane your neck, only able to see where the tree bark opens up into the gate, snug around your waist. “Did you just—“

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! M- my foot slipped!”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Look, it’s not exactly the easiest to move around you without touching you right now,” He argues. “You really think I’m trying to make a move on you in a situation like this?!”

“Well, I can’t see shit, Harrington. I don’t know what the hell’s going on back there.”

Ignoring you, Steve murmurs, more to himself but loud enough for you to still hear, “The hell are you wearing these tiny shorts for, anyway?” He tugs at the hem around your thigh, elastic snapping back against your skin. You bite back whatever pathetic noise threatens to escape your lips.

“It was warm out earlier!”

“It’s March—“

“And unreasonably warm for March, y- you jerk.”

“That why you’re shivering?”

“Considering the sun set, uh, yeah?”

You grumble, annoyed how wet this easily has made you. You need out, and Steve needs out, too, and the two of you need to just forget about all of this.

“Okay, just—“ You can’t think straight, mind clouded with dirty thoughts— how embarrassing. “Push me through.”

“You… want me to push you… how?”

“With your hands, St—“

“I know with my h— I meant, like, where?”

You can’t see the way he licks his lips, staring at your ass, but you sure can hear the strangled moan he miserably tries to hide in his throat. 

“Wherever works— I don’t know, I’ve never been stuck between dimensions before!”

He shudders a breath before calling through the gate, “I’m gonna— if I touch anything I shouldn’t, I swear to god I’m not trying to—“

“Okay, yeah, I get it, Steve— just push me out of here!”

“Christ, you’re fucking bossy…”

His hands grip the plush of your hips, first, hoping he can grip hard enough and push this way— it’s useless; his hands lose grip, sliding up your body. His knuckles run into the tree, and he’s grateful for that barrier; who knows how far his hands could’ve slipped. He yelps and recoils away. “Sorry!”

“Dude, I don’t care, just do whatever works.” You sound exhausted, and who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? You had to have been here at least an hour, and even if it doesn’t hurt, it can’t be very comfortable. 

Steve shakes his nerves off, hands reaching for the back of your thighs; his fingers splay apart, pushing as hard as he can, and you finally begin to budge. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Until you cry out for him to stop. “Shit, that fuckin’ hurts— It’s— ow, fuck! My hips—”

He immediately backs off, hands releasing pressure, but still resting gently on your thighs. It’s automatic, the way his thumbs rub slow circles into your exposed skin to try comforting you; the shorts you’re wearing are not helping either of you. It was warm out earlier, like you said, but did you have to wear these now?

Goosebumps prickle up under his fingers, and it’s hard to miss the way you clench your thighs together. 

“You, uh…” Steve gulps, fingers gently kneading at the meat of your thighs. “You okay over there?”

“Uh-huh,” Your answer isn’t very convincing, with a trembling voice. “Everything okay back there? W- with you, I mean.”

“Sure, yeah, it’s… I’m good.” He feels like such a pervert, fantasizing about taking you right here, like this. It’s wrong when you’re trapped like this. “Honey, I- I don’t know what else to do.”

The pet name twists at a coil deep within you, building up a pressure of some kind. 

“This is gonna sound fucked up, but just— push my ass— Steve, that better not be you laughing!”

He can’t hold back his immature giggling, but he’d rather this than moan.

“You sure? I don’t want you to get mad or anything.” He tries to settle down, focus on getting you unstuck. “Tell me to stop if it hurts again, alright?”

You imagine hearing those words of sweet consent in a different circumstance, biting back a whimper. “Ye- yeah, I will.”

Steve slides his hands up to the curve of your ass, unable to restrain himself before digging his fingers into your soft, plushy body. “Gonna count down, sweetheart, okay?”

This time a whimper does beat you to the punch before you can actually reply. He squeezes a little harder.

“Three… two… one—“ Steve shoves his hands against you, pushing as hard as he can. Again, your hips shove up against the tree trunk, and you cry out from the pinch. He pulls you back an inch, wincing with guilt. “M’sorry, I—“

“Again,” You boldly call back to him.

“… You sure?”

“Just do it, please,” His hands are so warm, touch so soft; you wish the fabric of your shorts would just disappear. There’s an extra whine to your voice, “Don’t hold back, I can take it.”

“Oh, fuck…” He mumbles, sucking in a sharp breath. “Go— I’m gonna try again, ready?” He hears a faint noise of consent, shoving himself into you; this time, his hips rut into you, too. You still can’t get through the gate, but you’re not sure that’s either of your concern at this moment. His bulge, rock-hard now, brushes up against your ass, and you both moan out. This is bad.

The way you push back against him isn’t helping much, either.

Both of you still, falling silent while trying to steady your breaths. Are you really about to do this here? Now?

Steve makes the decision for you both, muttering, “I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore.” He’s purposefully grinding against you, head lolling back with a groan as you push into him in return. From either end, both of you are shuddering out sinful noises. “Always wanted to kiss you first, but—“

“As soon as you rescue me, y’can kiss me all ya’ want.”

“Shit, princess, never took you for the damsel in distress type.” He tugs your shorts down, choking on air when he discovers you’re completely nude underneath. “Jesus, did you think at all about your outfit today?”

“Uh, considering I don’t have a bra on… no.”

“You don’t have a—“ Steve comically pouts that part of you is through the other side of the gate; he’s grateful you can’t see the pathetic expression. “What, did you just roll outta bed and stroll down here?”

“Steve, the longer we talk about the logistics of my outfit, the dryer I’m becoming.”

“Good thing I can help with that.”

“Okay, that was goofy to s— oh…” His thumbs spread your folds apart; despite your failed quip, you’re soaked as sin. 

“So fuckin’ pretty…” He leans down, kissing the swell of your ass, trailing his lips down your backside until he’s level with your heat. There’s no warning, just his tongue gliding along your folds, lapping up your arousal. A feral sounding groan vibrates through your core as he loses himself tasting you. It’s not rushed— not on purpose, at least— but any restraint is long gone now.

“Oh m’god,” You shudder while his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it softly. His arms wrap around your thighs from behind, hooking you in place. You twitch back, like you’re desperate to grind on his face, but worried to freak him out.

Steve’s far from freaked out; in fact, he’s delving his tongue deeper, nearly incoherent when he mirrors your earlier words, “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

That’s all the permission you need, rolling your body back as far as the gate allows, trembling as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. If only you could see the glistening mess on his pretty features. “Steve…”

He angles his nose against your clit just right, making you squeal into the empty forest around you. His tongue laps away, eventually tapering to fuck into you with it.

“Fuck, more, ple- please,” You pant, grateful Steve’s holding you upright, or you’d go limp against the tree. “Please— god!”

He slides a finger into you, curling it just right as he kisses and sucks back to your clit. He’s rougher this time when he suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling your eyes back and tensing your body up. You chant his name in whimpers, like a desperate prayer, only urging him to finger fuck you harder.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re gripping me so hard.” He groans into you, adding another finger. “Taste so good, I could be here all night—“

An orgasm startles you, going 0 to 100 without warning; lewd noises floating back through the gate toward Steve only challenge him to keep going.

“S- Steve, ha- hang on—“

“You want me to stop?” He slows his pace, but you ram yourself back into his hand and lips.

“No! Please, god, no—“

“Then what is it?” His tongue flits out, teasing around your sensitive nub.

“M- move your fingers up, back where you had it— ohhhmyfuckinggod—“

“C’mon, come for me, y’can do it again,” he coaxes, spitting onto your folds while relentlessly ruining you with his thick, long fingers. Your legs tremble wildly. “I can tell you’re close, angel. Make a mess, come for me again—“

This time, you cry out, praying whatever woods you found yourself in was deep enough, away from the public. Your hips twitch and convulse, while you flutter around his digits, soaking his face while he continues to delve deeper, as if that’s even possible.

The pumping pace of his fingers never relents, despite how overstimulated you feel already.

“St- Steve…”

“Got one more in ya’?” You feel his hot breath fanning over your folds again. It’s not long before he’s flicking his tongue back out, teasing your clit while adding another finger. “Christ… yeah… yeah, angel, that’s it…” He laps at the nectar dribbling from your centre, grunting as his free hand pulls you by your thigh, guiding you to bounce against his face. The fingers buried in you curl just right, earning a broken, breathy noise from the other side; he hits the right spot, and under a minute in, you’re gushing against his pretty face.

You can hear how drenched he is when he speaks, licking his lips between his words, “That was… oh, fuck, that… that was so… can we do that every day?”

Winded, you manage to laugh weakly, “If you can figure out how to get me un-stuck, I’ll let you do that as much as you fuckin’ want.”

You’d kill to see his face right now, dripping with your release, but until then you’ll just need to use your imagination.

“…. Can we—“

“Please.”

The head of his cock slides along your folds, teasing as it runs over your sensitive clit. You jolt back, and he grips you by the hip, holding you in place with one hand.

“Be patient for me, angel. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slides in, taking his time, paying attention to your gasps. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh, ju- just go slow.”

Like earlier, when Steve tried pushing you through the gate, he soothes you with his touch, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. He sinks a bit further, feeling you clench around him with anticipation. “Angel, gotta relax to let me in…”

“I- I know, m’trying, you’re just— you’re so… so…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I have you. You’re okay…” He slides deeper, hips almost flush against your backside. “Just relax… that’s it, that’s my girl.”

The praise elicits a pornographic moan out of you, only triggering his cock to twitch against your walls.

“God, wish I could see your face right now,” his mumbling fades into a gravelly groan, sinking deep into you. 

“Y’can if you fuck me when we’re outta here,” you strain out, taking him to the hilt. His cock twitches again, making you both shudder.

“I dunno, what if we can’t get you out, sweetheart?” The tides turn with his tone. He pulls out slowly, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. You twitch and clench around nothing, making him smirk. “What if you’re stuck here forever?” Slamming back into you, your walls clamp down on him, tighter than before. “Oh, what, you like that idea?”

“Steve…”

“You wanna be left here? Where anyone can walk by, use you however they want?” He draws back, snapping his hips back into your ass, relishing in the way you cry out. “Anyone can find you in the woods over there, use that pretty mouth of yours…” Gripping your hips, he pulls back slowly, thrusting in with everything he’s got. It’s becoming a torturous pattern, but he can tell you’re enjoying it with the way you’re soaking his cock. 

“Oh my— fuck…” You gasp from the other side, throwing yourself back into him as far as the gate allows you. He grunts as you meet his thrusts.

“You’d be up for grabs over here too, y’know…” Hands trailing back to your ass, he spreads your cheeks, spitting lewdly on your pretty, puckered hole. “But maybe you’re not that much of a freak—“ You don’t hold back the sinful sound building in your throat over his unfinished concept. “Oh. Oh. You’d like gettin’ fucked by some monsters too, huh? That’s so fuckin’ gross, babe.”

“That ain’t even the half of it,” you manage to reveal through panting and whimpering.

His mind races over the possibilities, slamming into you a little faster.

Steve circles the tight entrance with the pad of his thumb, throbbing deep inside you as he tests the waters, sinking in just a bit. You squirm and whine, relaxing as he continues on, eventually making it past his knuckle— which, wouldn’t be too much, but with the size of his hands, you feel so full off that alone.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, I don’t think I’ll l- last long,” he murmurs while he pistons his hips into you, growing sloppier by the minute. 

“S’okay… m’not…” You can’t grasp onto the words you need, not when he’s fucking you absolutely brainless between dimensions. “God, Steve, you’re so deep.”

His thumb slips out of you, leaving you emptier than before, making desperate, pathetic mewls and cries. Ignoring you, his hand slides underneath, pressing down onto the peak of your mound. “Where do you feel me? Here?”

“N- no, deeper…”

Steve splays his hand wide, fingers blanketing over your skin; he inches his touch up, just where your belly and pelvis begin to meet. The further he stretches his touch, the more he leans over you, kissing along any bare skin on your back he can reach.

“Here?”

You shake your head, but he can’t see. Your lapse in verbal response earns a smack on your ass, causing you to cry out into the expanse of the woods. 

“Where, babe? Tell me.”

“Up,” whimpering, you push back into him. Hand gliding up to your belly button, he stops.

“Here?”

Eyes rolling back, you let out a broken sob, “Yes!”

Steve pushes down on your belly, just enough for the pressure to meet his thrusts.

“You’re takin’ me like a slut… sound like one, too.” He grunts while bucking wildly into you. His hand disappears, only to join the other in grabbing you by the thighs, nearly lifting your lower half off the ground against him.

The sound is absolutely what you’d expect from two, hopelessly horny idiots, fucking in a circumstance like this one right here. Skin on skin slapping roughly, echoing out into the woods of the Upside Down, in time with his near-feral grunts and throaty groans. On your side, in your world, you can only imagine how close to an injured animal you might sound like, or someone in actual distress, unable to cover your mouth as you hold yourself up while he fucks into you relentlessly.

“M’pretty close, angel,” Steve pants through the gate, hips stuttering while he still gives his all, thrusting mercilessly into you. “Where—  where can I—“

“‘Side…” You groan out, lost in a lust-driven delirium.

Attitude softening, he manages to ask, “In— you mean inside?”

“Uh-huh, wanna be full,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “Make me yours—“

“Oh, fuck,” Steve’s hips freeze over your words, finally reaching his high. One final cry tears out of you as your fourth and final orgasm trembles through your body, rolling into his. The delicious squeeze and fluttering around him helps milk his release, doing just as you asked, filling you up with his spend. 

Involuntarily, his entire lower half twitches violently into you, and finally, finally, the gate gives, allowing him to tumble through to the other side, shoving you out first. He lands on top of you, rolling over onto the forest floor while you both groan. The woods are quiet, aside from occasional crickets and your loud, ragged breaths, weaving through the branches above.

Though the two of you are ready to fully collapse, the squelching sound of the gate constricting catches your attention; the damn thing closes completely.

Steve chuckles weakly, while you push past any shame that might still linger, shyly smiling over at him.

“Hey…” You attempt to greet him, now that you’re face to face— which, speaking of, his features are still glistening from sweat and your multiple releases. 

“Hi,” he breathes, eyes trailing over your figure, landing and pausing on your exposed core, dripping a lewd mixture of fluids. “Fuck…” He leans forward, but stops himself, mumbling, “If we weren’t in the woods, I’d, uh, help clean you up, but…”

Your eyes widen, taking in his words; neither of you are in a state to fuck around any further, but you make a mental note of the suggestion for the future. “I’m— I’ll remember that.”

Surging towards him with an ounce of renewed energy, you capture his lips in a long-awaited kiss. He makes the cutest noise of surprise, melding against you. Pausing, he murmurs against your lips, “Sorry we couldn’t do that first.” It’s a wild shift in his demeanor post-sex, from a dominant, feral wreck, to this soft, precious person before you.

“We can make up for it though.”

“After a super long fuckin’ nap.” Then he cringes, “And the— y’know, the whole—“ He waves his hand around, rolling his eyes, “the Vecna thing.”

“Right. Yeah. Priorities.” You’re looking forward to all of this coming to an end. All you want is to curl up in bed with Steve, and sleep a whole day away, but that’ll have to wait. 

As clarity brings you back down to earth, you realize you’re still naked from the waist down… which means— 

“Um… Steve?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“… Where’s my shorts?”

[leovenuslatina]

ETERNAL DESIRE⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

!!THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI!!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

what makes your FS feel desired?

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

PILE 1 -

King of Pentacles & The Magician

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your FS like to feel confident pile 1. he likes when stroke his ego make him feel good and you build him up i mean of course everyone does but he mainly likes it when you do it. it means the most to him when you do it especially when you two are making love and you whisper all things he’s doing makes you feel good he’s obsessed with that. Outside of the bedroom your FS likes knowing that you depend upon him that anytime you need him or anything that you come to him. he likes when you make him feel like a “real man” you know chopping wood lifting heavy shit and stuff like that. your FS is OBSESSED with making you feel safe protected and comfortable. whether it’s when some creep is hitting on you and making you feel uncomfortable or his just hold you in his arms. he likes knowing that you trust him completely with everything: soul and mind but especially body. Your FS does put a lot of his identity in what he does and his job so he maybe like really important where he works or in his field. he has a lot of respect which indirectly helps his confidence especially with you he likes to buy you nice things and taking you on trips and luxurious experiences. Lastly your FS LOVES ! communication and hearing words of affirmation from you it does wayyyyy more than you think it does.

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PILE 2 -

Two of Wands & Six of Pentacles

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Immediately pile 2 your FS means business! they love to get shit done they have a long list of goals and they intend to achieve everything on that list and they don’t let anything or anyone stop them. that makes them feel really desired and important and impressive. they like when you challenge them i’m getting that the chase is like a good motivation for them. in the weirdest way what makes them feel wanted is when you act like you don’t want them 🤭. when you tease them and act like a brat for lack of a better word. your FS def wants what they can’t have and when you tell them not right now or no he LOVES IT ! (side note lol): i was having a conversation with my man the other day and i asked him why he kept pursuing me even when i acted like i didn’t want him he said because he was so used to girls throwing themselves at him that when i didn’t he was intrigued and when he got me he felt accomplished. Your FS is the SAME way he’s probably like handsome or really charismatic and when you don’t immediately want him he’s obviously obsessed with you !honestly just being in a relationship with you makes him feel the most desirable. because he views you as the highest prize he could ever win. he sees you as a goal he wants to achieve (not in a bad way!!) he just knows he has to work his hardest to get you and make you happy and keep you happy and that makes him feel really good about himself. he feels like he won at life just because he’s with you 🥰. because they are very goal oriented they LOVE when you give them tasks to do for you like helping you move or helping you with some car troubles. they are a HUGE acts of service kinda guy and he’s the type to do stuff for you before you even asking like filling up your water bottle or washing your car for you or just anything to make your life easier. it’s the same thing in the bedroom. he likes when you tell him what you like and what to do and when he does that and makes you pleased he’s extremely happy with himself.

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PILE 3 -

Knight of Pentacles & Six of Cups

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Your FS prides himself on being who you lean on. He’s ambitious and he’s a GOOD man savanna!!! he’s loyal and faithful if you care about that stuff he is a religious man (only of that applies). What makes your FS feel desirable is knowing that you see him and that you know all he does. he’s the type of guy that doesn’t brag he’s not boastful about all he does. he’s very humble. he’s not in it for any type of praise or recognition. but you truly see him and you’re thankful and appreciative of everything he does for you and that makes him happy literally he’s a simple kinda man it really doesn’t take much to make him happy or feel. your FS is an extremely patient and supportive man he’ll do anything for you even if you have trauma or past experiences that cause you anxiety he’ll be right by your side. this FS is the perfect person for someone who needs a lot of patience and attention and love. he’s very caring and soft and loving. and the look on your face when he hold you or when he sees you happy that is the ultimate compliment to him. like all he wants to do is be a good MAN for you !

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[aethon-recs]

40 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — Longfic Edition (Part 3)

Part 3 of 2024 recs! See below for a round-up of some of the most engaging multi-chaptered works/longfics that I came across in this ship in 2024 🤍

As with last year, I found each of these fics, in their depiction of the ship, to be a fresh or surprising take on our familiar beloved characters of Harry and Tom|Voldemort, with an emphasis on underrated fics and/or fics that made me think about the ship in some new way. It's amazing to me that even after 20+ years of writing in this ship, there are still so many new themes and tropes and angles to explore. 

Criteria for this list: multi-chaptered, Tomarrymort-centric, with at least 1 update published in 2024. 

Overall, for 2024, I've split up my year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here’s the link back to Part 1: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics with 30 fics and Part 2: One-Shots with 30 fics. And with these 40 fics, this wraps up 100 recs for Tomarrymort for 2024!

*

a cool drink of water by @zolpidem105 (E, 10k, WIP)

Harry Potter, an apprentice at Police Scotland, wakes up to find he’s not in his bed.  "Awake? Excellent. We should get going," Tim?—Tom—says from the side, sounding far, far too alert for what Harry feels is catastrophically early in the morning.

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP)

Harry can't sleep because of his neighbours' constant fighting, and he ends up falling asleep at work. Tom Riddle, CEO, is not particularly happy.

Accidents happen by @themothatyourdoor (T, 51k, WIP)

Harry must have been London's first accidental sugar daddy.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 114k, WIP)

When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 30k, WIP)

Tom expects to feel victorious at his greatest enemy's confession. Instead, he develops a crush on him.

Auror Potter by @albondiguilla007 (E, 21k, WIP)

Harry Potter is done. He's been in the past for months now, working undercover. Enter Tom Riddle. Impulse control has never been a strong suit of Harry’s, and this mission is proving to be the most difficult one yet.

By Any Means by @corpium (E, 101k, WIP)

Harry Potter will do anything to protect his little brother, whether that means facing the Dursleys' wrath, dogging his brother's footsteps, or taking down the Dark Lord himself. Absolutely anything.

Crush by @chiocchi (T, 4 chapters, WIP)

Tom Riddle doesn't know what it's like to have a crush. So when his heart starts beating fast every time he sees Harry Potter, it can only mean one thing: His instincts are telling him that Harry Potter is a threat that must be eliminated.

Do It Over by @marrythemonstersao3 (T, 57k, WIP)

Harry wakes up on the morning of his eleventh birthday, ready to do things differently this time. He has no grand plans, just the instinct to be close to the man whose soul he shares.

draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 287k, WIP)

“Harry Potter,” comes the soft, sibilant hiss of a voice he has heard in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his waking hours for years. “It seems I have finally caught you.” 

Echoes by @dracomort (M, 4k, WIP)

Across a thousand worlds, Harry and Tom find each other.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 112k, WIP)

This is Tom’s destiny, a King among men. No—a god. He need only rise to that which is his for the taking… if only one strange boy weren’t so determined to get in his way.

Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot (E, 77k, WIP)

Voldemort survives the final battle and is imprisoned in Azkaban. After a series of unfortunate events, Harry Potter ends up in the cell next to him.

Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (M, 90k, WIP)

Harry Potter is a time-travelling, furious mess, and he is going to kill the Dark Lord. Like most of his plans, things do not work out. Tom should not be so obsessed with his would-be murderer.

Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis (E, 595k, WIP)

When Harry Potter cast his first Cruciatus Curse, he was successful. In doing so, he awoke the darkness in his head. It whispers, and it's never wrong. The darkness is hungry, and won’t be denied.

Moon Rite by @isalisewrites (E, 15k, WIP)

Voldemort learned the truth: Harry was his horcrux. With a sudden offer of a ceasefire, the decades long war could be over - lives saved and protected - if Harry swore to one agreement: a magically binding marriage contract with Voldemort himself.

No Glory by @obsidianpen (E, 313k, WIP)

The Dark Lord divines what Harry Potter is in the Forbidden Forest, and revelations lead to incomprehensible consequences. Lord Voldemort has won... and the dystopia is damning.

Of Kings, of Pawns, and of Men by @ambivalens999 (E, 166k, WIP)

When Harry succumbs to dementors in Little Whinging, the last thing he expects is to wake and find Tom Riddle’s face staring back at him in the mirror. It only goes downhill from there.

of various storms and saints by MaidenMotherCrone (E, 36k, WIP)

“I am the last Lector. I am my people’s very last hope,” Harry bites out through the teeth of his fury. He is done throwing curses and spells. He is reduced to this, divine rage.  And then, Voldemort is there, looming and dark and great and terrible. “And I will stamp it out.”

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 207k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, just when the wizarding world thinks itself safe, a serial killer emerges, leaving a trail of dead women in his wake. Each of the bodies bears a gruesome message for the Aurors. A message which claims the Dark Lord has risen again.

Reckless Cartography by @meles-merrivale (M, 39k, WIP)

Featuring Harry and Tom attending Hogwarts together and slowly ruining each other’s lives.

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 162k, WIP)

In another world, Harry Potter was spared. Raised in Lord Voldemort's Britain, he enters his seventh year wanting to keep his head down. But after a chance encounter with ‘Marvolo Gaunt’, it looks like it may not be so simple.

Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear (E, 70k, WIP)

The moment Harry is struck by the killing curse, it’s not death that awaits him, but ascension. A story of faith, obsession, and the burden of divinity.

Seaforth by @kippipies (M, 10k, WIP)

For as long as he can remember, Harry's had a normal life, looking after a precocious child named Tom on an isolated island. But everything in his normal life is shattered when he finds out a terrible truth: that a powerful leader called Voldemort is after him.

Seeing Sand by @valkyrie-chemist (T, 95k, WIP)

Anticipation bubbled in Tom’s stomach as he imagined fear and shock Harry’s green eyes. Eyes that snapped open the instant Tom's hand touched the frame of the hospital bed. Eyes that burned gold.

some like it hot by @duplicitywrites (E, 12k, WIP)

When Tom Riddle applies for an internship at the Ministry of Magic, he is assigned to the Department of Magical Fire Control and Containment, a department that boasts a very impressive headcount of one: Harry Potter.

Strings of Fate by @solelyseeking (E, 58k, WIP)

“When I touch you,” Tom says, bitterness clinging to every syllable, “I feel whole.” Harry might just be the first interesting thing that Tom has ever encountered.

Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 71k, WIP)

There's a book in Voldemort's private library that can explain this kind of magic. The cover is black and shiny and looks like it's breathing. Harry really wants to take a look at chapter three, no matter what it takes.

Tender Reigns Our Night by noumena (M, 103k, WIP)

Sent on a Ministry mission to fight for magic's survival, Harry goes back in time with two simple objectives: find and destroy any existing Horcruxes, and stop Tom Riddle ever evolving into Voldemort. Harry thus finds himself working alongside Riddle at Borgin and Burke's.

The Longing by @aglassroseneverfades (M, 41k, WIP)

What is possibly most damning of all is that Harry is not thinking of his parents right now as he trudges alongside his companions up to Voldemort’s eerie castle. He is thinking instead, as he often does, of a name that burns too brightly on his wrist in the pre-dawn light.

The Runemaster by @kazisstillawake (E, 43k, WIP)

Harry trips on a rock and leaps through time. 1940s Hogwarts is very different from the home he is familiar with. To make matters worse, he is dumped into Slytherin – Riddle’s territory. But it’s hard to be invisible when you’re a novelty, a new student that knows too much for your own good.

the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3 (E, 47k, WIP)

Harry is sent through time to the relative safety of 1963 and adopted into the Potter family. Now he’s entering his sixth year at Hogwarts in 1976, with a war brewing just outside the school walls. The last thing he needs is to catch the attention of the rising Dark Lord.

The Unintentional Consequences of Prison Reform by @badluck (E, 28k, WIP)

Harry Potter, newly licensed Mind Healer, puts personal history aside to take on his hardest job yet. “Talk to me, please. Give me a chance to make you better.” Lord Voldemort looks downright murderous.

The Word of Your Body by @ictyn (E, 7k, WIP)

“Have you heard from him?” Albus asks. He only means one person when he asks Harry this question. He’s asked it five times in twenty years, and the answer is always the same. The only thing he knows about Tom is that he’s not dead. Harry would know if that happened. He’d feel it beating inside his heart, inside of his very soul.

Timeless by @perhaps-sunlight (E, 3k, WIP)

In which Master of Death Harry Potter time travels to the 1940s, only fixing Tom Riddle isn’t quite what he had in mind.

To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP)

Voldemort had trusted him with the task of bringing Prince Gryffindor under his control, thus securing the future of Gryffindor within their hands. Tom would do so easily—the prince was a mere omega, docile and sweet, easily swayed—and then Gryffindor Kingdom would be folded into the Slytherin Dynasty. He would prove himself undoubtedly useful, and Voldemort would finally let him rule at his side.

Venom or Valor by @lightningant (M, 52k, WIP)

20 years old and unemployed, Harry decides to use a time turner to travel to 1946. But what he finds isn’t the proud, charismatic Dark-Lord-To-Be, but a neurotic 19-year-old Tom Riddle living quietly in the tiny flat that his retail job barely pays for, isolated and addled by chronic illness.

we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 68k, WIP)

Seer Harry who tries to write his own future, fuck prophesies and mastermind darklords and evil teachers. He will live his life, and he will enjoy it, dammit. Oh, and there's also Tom Riddle.

What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes (M, 80k, WIP)

There was a new transfer student, Tom observed at the Start-of-Term Feast as he idly twisted the Gaunt ring around his finger. Featuring a schoolboy on the precipice of becoming a monster, a powerful and mysterious newcomer to Hogwarts, and an initial spark of interest that becomes an obsession.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 243k, WIP)

Triwizard Tournament, but Hunger Games: Tom Riddle needs to win to fulfill his plans. Cedric Diggory wants to make his family proud. Hermione wants her friends to survive. Harry wants a lot of things, including Tom Riddle. 

you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria (M, 64k, WIP)

When Harry wakes a seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle from the Gaunt's Ring, it is to a world where his future self has achieved none of their goals except one. Harry is proof that he's a great wizard after all.

*

[floralscented]

♡ㅤSPORTS CAR! with [ dean winchester ] & [ angel!reader ]ㅤ (18+!!)

. . . dove really likes dean's car. or, let him drive it real far.

notes, i was going to post a dean & angel thing for his birthday... better late than never! have a sports car by tate mcrae inspired drabble as an apology<3 THIS IS SMUT! MDNI! also i don't think it needs to be said, but don't attempt this at home. all actions performed by professionals!

★ ˚⋆

dean only needs one hand to drive.

it was once something you marveled at — his innate ability to speed down open streets, tires squealing in the dusty dirt roads, as one hand steered the wheel and the other crept up your thigh.

skills needed to be exercised and pushed to strengthen their foundations. that was along the lines of what dean had said, once, before his fingers reached the button on your jeans to undo them.

even broken clocks were right twice a day. dean did not need both hands to steer the car, as he told you, and he did not need both to drive well.

he pushes a little harder on the gas, the engine revving, the sound of it miniscule compared to the mewling in the back of your throat as you ground your hips farther down on the length of his cock. his free hand rests firmly on your waist, trying to keep you steady as you squirmed.

"do you want me to crash, baby?" he asks in your ear, words a little breathless, "is that it?"

your lips stutter open and closed in a wordless denial, only managing to shake your head instead of mouth out a response. dean's grip on your hip guides your shallow movements farther down onto him, stretching your tight heat around the girth of his thick cock. "no, you don't want us to crash, dove," he mumbles, his breath hot in the crook of your neck, mouth pressed to the back of your shoulder, "that'd ruin the fun, wouldn't it? my pretty dove likes the thrill."

dean shifts a little beneath you, the act making him bury deeper into you, a little gasp falling from your pouty pink lips. he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade in response, a shudder wracking through your muscles at the light touch. "yeah? tell me how much y'like it, dove."

you weren't sure that you had the capabilities to say something coherent in that moment, but you choke on a response regardless. "yes," is what comes out, and even then, it's more of a gasp than it is a word. dean chuckles low and raspy in your ear, bucking his hips up in slow, deliberate movements that make his foot press harder on the gas pedal. the engine revs again. your head tips back into his chest. "dean─"

"y'know how fast we're goin'?" dean grunts into your ear, the hand on your hip shifting to grab one of your wrists and pry it off of its death grip on his muscular thigh. he lifts your hand to his mouth for a second, kissing your open palm, before resting it on the steering wheel. "not nearly fast enough."

the same hand reaches across you for your other hand, and finally, you pull your eyes away from the expansive back roads to watch his movements. another kiss to your palm, the other joined at ten and two on the steering wheel. "what are─"

"do you trust me?"

never have you nodded yes faster before. yes, you trusted dean. yes, you would do anything for dean. yes, he knew this; exploited it often, prodding at what he knew was your sole weakness. dean's hand on the wheel lifts off, both of them now going back to your thighs.

"make sure we don't get ourselves killed f'me, yeah?" dean's laugh is breathless and airy, the same nervous energy that you'd heard that first night alone with him, when he'd taught you how to drive. the circumstances were different now; impossibly higher stakes.

you swallow thickly, jerking the wheel to the right again when it starts to drift into wrong lane. you're distracted ─ dean can't possibly expect perfection from you when your head is in the clouds and spinning.

thankfully, there's no scolding or scathing comment. the only thing that comes is a slight lift of your hips with his grip beneath your thighs as he shifts again, half sitting and half sat up. dean bends you over the steering wheel just enough for you to keep a steady control over the car, and just enough to─

a mixture of the car's revving engine and his panting breaths in your ear and skin slapping against skin overwhelm your senses. he's buried inside of you now, enough to where you can feel each thrust bruising against your cervix.

"what would the other angels say if they saw my angel, all spread out for me like this, goin' 78 in a 40?" his hands move to your ass, squeezing the skin between his warm palms, using that grip to work you deeper onto him. you're forced to keep your head forward, eyes on the road, when all you want to do is squirm and bury yourself back into his chest and cry out.

you barely manage a whimpering, throaty whine of, "prob'bly say─ t'slow down─"

dean laughs heartily this time, his nose brushing against your jawline, pressing hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat. his head lifts, and so does one of his hands, fingers grasping the hem of your dress and pulling it up again from where it'd slipped back down.

a glance in the rearview mirror reveals the fabric held tightly between his teeth. his eyes are downcast, watching intently as he buries into you, his cock slick with your juices. his eyes flick up to meet yours, one corner quirked upwards. "eyes on the road, dove."

you glance back out of the windshield just in time to see a stop sign─ and blow past it. dean's head hits the back of the seat with a thump as he laughs this time, and the lightness in his voice is enough to make you laugh, too. as breathless as him, a burst of adrenaline sparking through your veins.

how long had it been since dean felt this free? part of you wishes to keep this moment going forever, to travel the universe in the backroads as he finds ways to bend you and maneuver you around in every space of his car, to wail his name in every state. the other part knows you aren't going to last much longer. there's energy pumping through your veins that shoots straight down to between your legs, your foot moving to rest over his on the gas, pressing down harder.

you expect an easy, tiger. it wouldn't be the first time that you'd tested a limit and found the invisible edge of a barrier. what comes out of dean's mouth is a rasping groan and a, "there's my girl."

he doesn't say anything after that, which somehow proves to make everything all the more intense. kansas is wheatfields and long, winding roads that never seem to end.

the wind rushes in through the open windows, your hair blowing in your eyes, roaring in your ears. how long had it been since you felt this alive?

it's a passing thought, but it leaves traces of itself in your blood. dean deserved to live a little, sometimes; you deserved to live a little all of the time, to let him teach you all that he knew and relive it alongside you.

dean's finger pries your mouth open, releasing your lip from your teeth. "make that face again n' m'not gonna last."

you smile, a wicked little thing that he's began to call your devil's grin. you sink further back onto him with each of his thrusts, and he groans all over again, something unintelligible in your ear about being wicked and unfair and other whining sounds that sound more like excuses to keep this dragging on.

you don't want the moment to end. he doesn't want the moment to end. but fate had its pretty ways of cruelty, and you were beginning to feel the telltale signs of impending bliss. you move to bite down on your lip again and find dean's finger instead, his mouth trailing a string of kisses down your shoulder blade. "nice try, honey."

with the growth of your relationship came a longer list of pet names. dove, baby, honey, my girl. each one set a fire ablaze in your belly. you stumble on a breathy moan, your eyes briefly squeezing shut before you remember they need to be open, your lives in your hands, held delicately between your palms.

"i'm─" the words are difficult. dean likes to talk for the both of you while he fucks the sentiments and the sentences out of you.

somehow, the grind of his hips and each shallow thrust becomes more erratic. "yeah," dean says in response, and it's no clarification to you, either, what he's trying to say.

silence again, except for the wind listening in, and the car's rumbling engine. you're racing against time and yourself, each gasping breath becoming throatier, whinier, dean's hot breath on your sweaty skin making you squirm, until─

you cry out, fingers tightening around the steering wheel, your legs clenching together and foot lifting off of the pedal at the intensity of it. dean's pace never slows even as your heart pounds, each thrust more slick-sounding from the orgasm. you almost lift a hand off of the steering wheel to stop him, to grasp his thigh and pause, but his cock twitches inside of you against the fluttering heartbeat of your sensitive walls, and there's no point to stopping him.

always in sync, now, sam once said in passing after you and dean had stopped dancing around each other. he didn't know how true it really was.

dean's cock stays buried in you, filling you up with the thick and hot release of his come. he presses his forehead to the curve of your neck, his foot slowly easing off of the gas finally. the car slows, but your hands don't leave the wheel, gripping it so tight that your knuckles have paled.

"m'gonna pull over," you mumble, easing the car to the side of the road, the right half of it treading spurts grass and the left still kicking dust and dirt up in baby's wake. "because i can't see."

dean's mouth curves against your skin; you feel it rather than see it, since his face has not left the spot between your shoulder blades yet. "you're a little adrenaline junkie in the makin', y'know that?" a light kiss to one of the ridges along your spine as he slumps back into the seat properly, tugging you down along with him in the process. "gettin' off on the speed and the danger."

he catches your elbow before you rear it back into his ribs. this part is a common occurrence of your little escapades. your tricks are becoming easy to pick up on. "you start wrestlin' me, honey, i'm gonna remind you how that backseat feels."

supposed to be a threat but you both know it's a promise, a given. as if you could ever forget how the leather of the backseat felt on your bare skin, anyways.

you twist your neck around once you've fully rolled to a stop along the side of the road, just enough to see the glaze in dean's glimmering green eyes. the moon hangs above his head, now, painting him in a wash of pale blue. he's always been beautiful, but there's something about the post-bliss of him that makes him devastating.

his smile becomes shier when he notices how you're studying him. you open your mouth to tell him everything you love about him, overwhelmed with it all at once, but he intercepts it with a warm, lingering kiss to your cheekbone.

your eyes close, face scrunching up as the single kiss becomes an onslaught of them over that side of your face. "dean!"

"mm?" he's not deterred, and again, you want to tell him every way that you love him. love how he loves, love how his dark eyelashes frame and brighten the pale of his eyes, love how he's always gentle even when he's trying to be rougher with you, love how he kisses and nips purple bruises into your neck in the shape of hearts.

maybe you would have said it, too. maybe you would have opened your heart and let himself make a home within it, right there on the side of a kansas dirt road, frogs chirping their own soundtrack to your unconventional love story.

the low fuel light dings onto the dash. the words vanish from your mouth, along with the courage you'd built up in your sated daze.

"how fast you think we can get to a gas station?" dean asks, the mischief evident in his voice, as he nips your earlobe between his teeth.

you sit up straighter in his lap, not even bothering to move yourself out of his lap, off of the half-hardness still buried inside of you. "let's find out."

the tires squeal as you peel out of your temporary parking spot, and you realize, then, that you don't really need to tell him how much you love him. not out loud. his arms slinking around your waist, cheek pressed to your skin and your dress low on your back, trusting you fully to drive his car, was love enough.

notes, the innocence is a virtue sequel i never planned on making but we all deserved. sorry if it's bad or incoherent it was actually supposed to be at least 1k shorter than this.

tags, @figthoughts @jasvtsc @titsout4jackles @deansbite @whisperingwillowxox @bombarda-babe @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @loverslantern @bitchykittenconnoisseur @jensenacklesantidote @keira-kaz2y5 @sthefferrete @depressionbarbie2023 @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @bleuatlas @minettacreekk @moonstruksandco @moodyquesadilla @severe-mental-illness @cevansbaby-dove @deansbeer @bluestrd @mccartneyqp @im-bili @chevroletdean @angelblqde @lyarr24 @psyches-reid @momoewn @globetrotter28 @starzify @florchids @ryngzmn @aileenunfiltered @beausling @frosttbitessam @amberlthomas

[zinder-fox]

And if it feels too impersonal to just write "kudos" (I've felt this way many times), but you don't have anything specific you want to say or aren't sure what to put, here are some other options that I've received and loved as an author:

I was so excited to see the notification for this chapter!

AO3 emailed me that you updated and I RAN over to read this. So good!

This chapter made my day <3

I keep clicking the kudos button every chapter, but AO3 keeps telling me I've already left kudos here.

I stayed up late reading this and I have no regrets.

(For diabolical angst) How dare you do this!! *sobbing*

Comments definitely do not need to be long or have a lot of interpretation or quotes or commentary about what's in the chapter to make an author's day. And if you're like me and feel like just putting a heart emoji or a single word in a comment is too little appreciation, I hope some of these ideas help.

i wish ao3 allowed people to give kudos per each chapter. These 100k word NOVELS need more love than 200 tiny digital hearts ☹️

[delusionalwh6re]

hellooo can i request a smut fic of hyun ju??? its like a brat tamer one AHHHHH i can't describe ittttt thankssss

i gotchu!! this is my first time ever writing for a trans character so i was a bit nervous ngl… i didn’t wanna do anything offensive. i’m not fully educated so i kept it simple but still steamy 😭 i hope you enjoy ml <3

࿐࿔ ⋆ ｡˚ good for ya’

࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ cho hyun-ju x fem!reader

warnings: brat taming, fingering, hair pulling, face sitting, mommy kink (it’s literally only said twice lol), edging, dirty talk, bathroom sex, cursing, orgasm denial and cursing

summary: your girlfriend has had enough of that bratty ass attitude of yours… so she gets you together

authore’s note: the gayness came out of me writing this 😭 i love this baddie sm, hyun ju supremacy!

Hyun-ju watched you from afar. The way your face held no expression, your eyes boring into others as if you dared them to say the wrong thing to you, your hips swaying with confidence as you walked around like you were the head bitch in charge. Like you fucking owned the place.

It pissed Hyun-ju off. You had all the time in the word to have this little attitude of yours but not enough to be a grown ass woman and speak about your guy’s problems.

When she found out you were in the games, she immediately began to worry for you. You weren’t the type to… listen. You didn’t believe in rules, you made your own. So you wouldn’t survive in a place like this.

But you on the other hand, the second you saw her it seemed like some sort of competition forming between you two.

With the way you were acting towards her, it would be hard to believe that the two of you were.. together.

And as long as you kept it up, she was gonna show you.

So that’s exactly what she did.

“Oh, oh! Hyun-ju! just wait-” your squeals bounced off the stall walls in attempts to get your girlfriend to slow down her almost painful fingering.

“No! What did I tell you huh?” her fingers showed no remorse as she curled them inside of you.

“Uhh” you threw your head back, your pussy clenching around her thick digits.

“You don’t know how to listen, so I’m gonna teach you” she whispered in your ear pulling her fingers out of you slowly.

You whimpered at the lost of contact and immediately reached out for her to get it back. You needed it. Needed anything to get some relief. You needed her.

She chuckled at you. Your usual hard headed and cocky act flowing right down the drain. You looked pathetic. Slick dropped from your puffy pussy, your tits perked up needing attention, hair was a mess… in all reality you were just a mess.

“Why don’t you ever behave?” her hand went to give your hair a soothing caress while her words swirled through your mind repeatedly.

“Ju” the nickname you always called her flew out your swollen lips in a whisper “need you, please?” your head tilt would’ve usually got the best of her but not this time.

You needed to be taught a lesson.

The only thing that was now heard in the bathroom was heavy breathing and the muffled background of players interacting.

Your back slammed against the cold stilled stall as Hyun-ju pulled onto your hair and pressed you against it. A fight of dominance now between the two of you with your lips. Teeth clashing and tongues gliding over each others — it was so hot.

“You’re gonna pay” she pulled away slightly for some air, not letting up on you at all before slamming your her lips back against yours.

Now it was your turn to gain control. With what little strength you had left, you held onto your girlfriend to turn the both of your around — her back now pressed against the stall.

You started feeling up on her with your dainty hands, your fingers brushing over her body. The two of you completely naked in front of one another.

“Teach me then” your voice laced with seduction as you rubbed at the sides of her hips — leaning closer to press your lips against her ear “mommy”

The feeling of your lips along with the heat of your words made her skin crawl. Immediate goosebumps and arousal taking over her body. She couldn’t wait anymore — she needed to taste you and she needed it now.

Hyun-ju looked at you up and down, licking her lips with anticipation that only made you wetter for her. Whether she realized it or not.

Her body walking towards yours. The feeling of your chests now being pressed together as the two of you connected lips once again. Her strong but gentle hands squeezing a handful of your ass.

She twirled you guys around so now you were the one with your back facing the stall. You were ready to take control but Hyun-ju caught you off guard when she spoke up

“Sit on my face”

“Ju — I don’t know if that’s possible”

You squealed when she grabbed your hips to pull you closer towards her now sitting body “I wasn’t asking”

She looked so beautiful underneath you. Her short hair in a low ponytail with her signature bangs sticking to her forehead — lips swollen as she stared up at you as she was amazed, which she was.

You just wanted to devour her.

“Not this time sweetheart, you’ve been a bad girl” her words caught you out of your trance as she rubbed the outside of your thighs

A huff leaving your mouth in annoyance — was she in your head?

“I don’t ca—”. you started to say before a harsh slap was landed onto your ass

You winced in pain before looking down at your very non sympathetic girlfriend — instantly regretting your actions at her next move

“This is your problem! You don’t listen” she yanked you upwards to hover your bare pussy above her face

This position being awkward in the small bathroom. Your arms having to hold your self up against the stall walls and your legs have to crouch down on the edge of the toilet seat — yuck.

But all your discomfort left as soon as Hyun-ju placed her lips against your throbbing clit

“Oh!” you cried out in ecstasy as she began sucking on you like a pacifier

That feeling not lasting for long before she began teasing your hole with the tips of her fingers. Plunging them inside you with a force that sent you jolting up.

“Stop moving” her voice muffled against your wet heat

“So —so good” you grinned against her face as you threw your head back. Her tongue lapping up your slit with ease. Wet smacking filling the bathroom every time she made contact with your pussy.

“Mhmm” she hummed against you slapping your ass before squeezing the flesh firmly — keeping you from trying to move away from her — as if you wanted to, not when she ate you good every single time.

“You gonna apologize?” her mouth came off of you with a low ‘pwah’ while she curled her fingers inside of you

“N-no” you stuttered with determination

“No? Did you just tell me no?” she scoffed angrily picking up her face as your jaw dropped. Your slick glistening down her hand as she practically pounded your with her fingers.

“I-I’m cumminggg, mommy please” you pleaded as you rode her fingers with your eyes closed. Going up and down on them with speed, ready to chase your orgasm— the knot in your stomach getting stronger as the outside world closed out of your head.

“Yeah?” her voice laced with sarcasm and you could heard the smirk in her voice.

You were so close, at the very edge. Until it was ripped away from you. Your eyes shot open as with disappointment as you looked at your girlfriend with sad eyes.

“Ju, no, don’t do this to me, please I’m sorry. I’ll be a good girl for you. Only you.” you weren’t one to beg but Hyun-ju had you doing things no one else could

You were so in love with her, even though you had a shitty way of showing it.

“Next time don’t be such a brat and then you could get what you want” she looked up at you with a shit eating grin — she knew she won. Like she often did.

Hyun-ju was the only person who could put you in your place.

Your eyes filled with tears “I love you baby, I’ll be good just for you, please just make me cum”

You got off from above her and got on your knees pleading in front of her. You didn’t even care if anyone heard you anymore. You just wanted the love of your life to please you.

“Only good girls get to cum” she whispered in your ear as she stood up to put her clothes back on

And after that, you were working to be on you best behavior just to get her to fully please you again.

I NEVER WROTE ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE?? i rlly hope this came out good and don’t sound stupid 😭

[channiesbakery]

lazy weekend —

prompt / request — slow morning routine with jeonghan

pairing — reader + boyfriend!jeonghan

word count — 589

genre — fluff

author’s note — i miss jeonghan 💔

lazy weekends with your boyfriend were your favorite types of weekends. ones where you have nothing planned so you can sleep in, waking up from the sun shining through your windows and not from an alarm blaring at you.

and if it’s not the sun waking you up, it’s your boyfriend’s lips, peppering kisses all over your face until you wake up.

“i thought we agreed to sleep in this weekend?” you mumble sleepily to him. “we did. it’s almost 11, sweetheart,” jeonghan whispers against your cheek. “besides, i’m bored,” he adds, making you huff. “so you wake me up because you’re bored?” you ask and he just grins.

“well, i was just giving you some sweet kisses, you woke up on your own. but since you’re up… let’s get our day started,” he says, pulling you out of bed.

your day fully starts in the kitchen, both of you working together to prep your breakfast. jeonghan mixes the pancake batter while you cut up fruit.

when you glance over, you see him meticulously shaping each pancake.

“you’re so extra, you know that?” you tease, watching as he made bunny shaped pancakes. “only the best for you sweetheart,” he grins.

you eat in a comfortable silence, only occasionally giggling at a stupid joke jeonghan makes or nudging his side playfully.

jeonghan takes care of cleaning up and washing the dishes, sending you to the living room to get your activity for the day set up: a new lego set for your growing collection.

you hear him connecting his phone to the speakers, a soft song playing before he joins you on the living room floor.

“i can’t believe you bought three lego sets at once,” you sigh at him as you sort the pieces from the first baggie.

“well I couldn’t decide which flower set i liked most! besides, now i get to give you flowers that last forever,” jeonghan smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you begin building, each of you building small pieces then connecting them. when you got to steps where you couldn’t work ahead, you’d settle for handing him the pieces he needed.

but as relaxing as this was, doing anything with jeonghan always had its chaotic moments.

“we’re missing a piece– oh god, how did we lose one–” “hannie–” “we can’t continue without it–” “jeonghan!”

you finally cut off his panicked rambling with a kiss to his lips. “sweetheart, we’re missing a piece–” “you were sitting on it,” you tell him, holding up the tiny green piece.

this happens at least 3 more times before you finally finish building.

before you bring the finished orchid bouquet to add to the shelf filled with all his other lego builds, jeonghan makes you pose with the flowers.

“do we really need to do this every time we build something?” you ask but hold the flowers, smiling as his snaps the photo.

“of course. i need a new lockscreen. besides, i like to document my favorite memories with my favorite girl,” he grins before taking the legos from you, setting it on the shelf.

“i think you need to be put on a buying ban for now. we’re out of space,” you say, looking over all his other legos.

“aw, but i just saw that they came out with the home alone lego set!” he exclaims. “hannie, where on earth would we even put that?” you give him a look.

“looks like we’ll just have to convert the guest room into a lego museum.”

[sungiescheotluv]

mirror muscles ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.7k

tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, suggestive, gym talk(?)

summary: doing your new resolutions with jaemin has always worked in your favor, most goals ticked off your lists. however, when you mention going to gym, jaemin's enthusiasm reaches new heights.

notes: hiyaaaa! it feels like forever since i last posted (two days omg 🙄) but i do hope you pretty stars enjoy this very indulgent fic! as an aspiring gym girlie, i'd do anything for this kind of princess treatment (particularly from jaemin 😋) also, the title of this is based on the soft play song with the same name (emo jisung, lemme give u some music recs). ok, i think i'm done here. wishing u all the best, much loveeee! <3

Note to self: never, under any circumstances, tell Jaemin your New Year’s resolution. Because one peek at your ambitious list and Jaemin will pry you from your warm bed, at the ass crack of dawn (might you add) to go to the gym because ‘nothing beats a morning pump.’

If you weren’t stupidly in love with him, you would’ve dropped a dumbbell on his toe.

How you get to this point is a lot more wholesome. Since the start of your relationship, once snow trickles down for Christmas, you two sit at your dining table with your laptops opened on Pinterest and pin-point what goals you'd like to achieve the following year. This way, you’re not shouldering your ambitions alone, having each other every step of the year as you tick off box after box. So far, you’ve managed to complete most of your goals. Go traveling, learn a new language, cook more home-cooked meals, limit screen time (still working on that) and many more. Jaemin was also progressing well: dedicating more time in his photography, reducing his coffee intake, going to bed earlier and visiting his mother more. 

For this year’s moodboard, while collecting pictures of your next set of goals, fitness content shows up in your recommendations. People in pilates studios in their pastel pink gym-sets. The aesthetic draws you in, how content people feel moving their body besides getting their 10k steps a day in. More photos start showing up, people sculpting their pride in the gym, sharing personal stories of their fitness journey and how the gym has taught them so much about themselves. What they’re capable of, what they never thought they could do and what opportunities lie await now that they’re happier in themselves. It all seems promising, even more so when you reconsider how bright your best friend’s life’s become since making the choice. She’d rarely accompany you to a game of badminton and now she’s pioneering her own run-club, amassing a social media following the size of an army.

You’d have to ask her how to get started once she’s back from her influencer trip (maybe content creating is something you needed to hop on). Then again, peering over your laptop screen to Jaemin’s glowing face, you could simply ask him. He’s been consistently going to the gym for a while now, to the point where you fake-pleaded for SM to close their gym because your boyfriend's become too buff for you to function. He’s always been gorgeous, with a face that could charm a snake, but now that he’s carved like a Renaissance sculpture, you couldn’t form a coherent sentence around him. Of course, aesthetic reasons are what lured him into the space, but he relays it’s become a lot more than that for him.

“I want to be strong, not only to build my confidence but to also protect my loved ones,” he looks directly at you, a serious hue to his eyes that has you breathless. “It’s another form of self-love, is my thinking. Showing up for myself, proving I can do hard things, even when I don’t want to. That I can step out of my comfort zone, trying new things and ultimately, living a longer life. Because at the end of the day, as much as I do this for me, I also do it so I can help you carry groceries. So that I can move furniture around when we move in together, be the one that my family calls if they need something physically demanding done,”

Fondness curves his lips, a flicker of timidity dart his eyes down to the desk before they flicker back up at you, astoundingly earnest as he says, “I’d also want to keep up with our kids. Carry them when they’re tired or run after them in a park. Those are my reasons.”

Something stutters in your chest. Then, leaps. Over the course of your three year relationship, it’s only natural that topics like this are mentioned, like marriage and children. Heck, you two shared a Pinterest board of decor ideas for the shared apartment you’d been on the lookout for. So, it shouldn't phase you but it does. How far into the future he sees with you. How he shares a bit of himself so effortlessly, in a way that lacks pressure and possesses good faith. Love and promise. All prominent themes throughout your relationship, one you thank your lucky stars for.

As a consequence, you flush. Folding like the early days of your relationships. “You’re getting bold these days. We haven’t even moved in together.”

“All in good time, angel,” he grins, looking a bit lovesick. “In any case, if this is something you wanna do, I’d be more than happy to help. Go to the gym with you so you don’t feel anxious, show you how to use the machines, get you workout clothes - whatever you want.”

You could marry this man.

You extend your arm across the wooden table, hand finding his as your fingers interlace, the same song and dance you’d hope you’d spend your life doing. “Thanks, baby.”

And now? Now, divorce weighs heavily on your mind.

In an effort to avoid the New Year’s crowd, Jaemin wakes you up early in the slum of days after Christmas where time doesn’t exist, cuddling into your half-sleeping figure with a gentle voice. Coaxes you to get up, slip on the new gym clothes you’d spent on his card (his treat, he said) and somehow, here you are, stinging eyes squinting under fluorescent lights with some EDM track playing faintly in the background.

“Oh, baby. Don’t look so down, you’re in good hands,” Jaemin coos, hand squishing your cheeks under your chin before pulling you into his chest, warm and comforting. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Couldn’t this wait until,” you glance at your fitness tracker, your own treat to yourself. “Midday? No one needs to be here at 9 am.”

“Maybe, but it’s a good way to start your day. Or get it out of the way,” he chuckles, spinning you out his arms before he wiggles his eyebrows. “Plus, who doesn’t want to see my muscles first thing in the morning?”

He drives home his point by kissing his bicep, something that should make you cringe out your skin or disappear without a trace, but no. Perhaps you’re still sleepy, shielding a snicker with your hand because of how lame (said adoringly) he is.

“You said you’d usually start off with thirty minutes on the treadmill, right?” You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll go with you. I’ll run for fifteen and row until you're done. So you don’t constantly have me in your ear.”

You laugh, because as grumpy as you’d been on the way here, you could never grow tired of him. All his carefree and mischief nature, his sweet and generous manner - you couldn’t even if you tried. 

Few people populate the modern gym, near to none in the cardio section as Jaemin refreshes your memory on all the buttons before you begin. Beside you, he does sporadic sprints, no heavy breaths clouding his chatter with you. You, on the other hand, keep it relatively reserved for your first time, upping the speed when you want to challenge yourself, surprising yourself with the distance and time that flies by. Soon enough, Jaemin’s squeezing your hand and moving a few rows back where the rowing machines are, leaving you with your walking playlist.

Again, in a flash, time passes by, upbeat songs blaring in your headphones that make you dance through the next fifteen minutes, a simmer of sadness coming when you’ve reached time with a whole host of songs still in the queue.

“You can listen to them next time,” Jaemin winks before leading you into a dark, LED room dotted with mirrors and yoga mats. This is one of the rooms booked for classes, but for now, it’s your stretching area where you cycle through some stretches and Jaemin jokes about folding you like a pretzel. 

The one other person in the room - a woman in her thirties - coughs, before smirking your way, the heat of your embarrassment migrating to your cheeks as you swat at Jaemin. He simply laughs, stretching to reveal his happy trail and suddenly, you forget why you’re even mad. 

When you’re finished, he shows you different sections - an assortment of cable machines, the weights area and then to an area with more machines. There’s a few people occupying the machines, immersed in their own world with flushed cheeks and sweat seeping into their clothes. It fills you with relief, that no one’s focused on you and your sweating figure as if you had ‘gym newbie’ written across your forehead. Jaemin shows you some of the machines he uses, depending on what he wants to work out but for the most part, lets you decide what machines you’d want to use - if any.

“Why do I need to put on muscle? You putting me in a headlock is good enough.” You fake-complain, feeding off the gentle approach Jaemin’s taken in trying to convert you to a gym rat.

“And you say I’m the dirty one,” he tsks with a matching grin. “You don’t need to do anything. All I’m doing is showing you the options you have. The more things you try, the more likely you’ll find something you lik-”

“Is that the slut machine?”

Jaemin’s head jerks back, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “What are you talking about?’

“This one,” you approach the machine closeby, pointing to the photo attached along with its actual name - hip adduction. “Isn’t this the one where people like, open their legs like crazy?”

Jaemin shakes his head, amusement in the smile he swipes with his hand. “Yes, it is. Wanna give it a go?”

“Hell yeah,” you climb into the machine in a rush, finding the experience more exciting than scary as Jaemin makes sure everything is in order. “This is gonna be hilarious.”

“I’m setting it to a low weight. If it’s too easy, we’ll move it upwards and try and find your range,” he comments, looking at you through his silver hair. “You ready?”

“Ready,” and you go, the weight moving like nothing, so much so that when it sets back to its original position, you’re more caught off guard by how far apart your legs are spread. “This is so raunchy, ohmygod.”

“Good thing it’s facing the wall,” Jaemin laughs at you shielding in between your legs. He ups the weight, the number looking a lot scarier than anticipated. “Let’s try this then. You should be able to rep 10 of these.”

You shuffle, a bit unconvinced. Taking a breath, you engage the machine, exerting more effort than before but managing to do one rep. Then two, then three all the way up to ten. Enough to challenge you, but not strain you.

Jaemin howls, pinching your cheek as he says, “Look at you go! That was great.”

“Thank you,” you huff, the tingle in your thighs somehow the source of the happiness in your chest. “That was really fun, actually.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaemin smiles, using some paper towel to wipe after the machine for you. “Usually people do about three sets of those. Reps depend on what you want to do - build endurance, muscle strength, all that. But that was really great, I’m so proud of you.”

And you feel proud of yourself too. Having tried something new, feeling unsure but leaning into the feeling. Letting yourself see how far you can extend yourself, pleasantly surprised with the distance. 

So, this was what Jaemin was on about.

You continue your morning like this, getting a personalised tutoring session in how certain machines works and what areas they work out. Jaemin runs through his leg day, since you two were on the hip adduction machine, enjoying more exercises like leg press and goblet squats. By the time you get to the hip thrust machine to try, someone’s occupying it. Jaemin suggests using the squat rack, the scary thing with a long barbell and weights attached to it. Sensing your apprehension, Jaemin lets you know he’s got you, coaching you through the exercise and any queries you may have about movement or positioning. Eventually, it’s your turn to lean against the incline bench and despite your fear, you work your way through 8 hip thrusts. You don’t nearly enjoy it as much as people online talk about it, which Jaemin says,

“That’s perfectly fine. There’s so many exercises that work the same areas. You’ll find one you prefer.” 

Finished for your session, Jaemin asks for you to hold tight while he does some deadlifts. It’s maddening watching him pick up such heavy weights, concentration knitting his eyebrows together with his exposed arms flexing under the tension. Wearing a sleeveless top for the gym in theory is great, but for your mental health? Bad, so bad. 

Because even if your body rings with exhaustion, the kind that’s refreshing and ensures a peaceful slumber, you’re about ready to jump his bone. 

Ill with lust, as you’d joke. 

Jaemin snickers, snapping his waist belt off with one hand, which shouldn’t be sexy but is. Your eyes then trail to the barbell, the memory of Jaemin’s set vivid in your mind.

“Did you wanna try it?” Jaemin asks, reading your mind. “We can start off with no weights. Just the barbell. There’s also different variations of a deadlift, let’s see which one you prefer.”

Out of the three, you pick the most conventional one to start with, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Particularly after Jaemin loads weights on each end when you've rehearsed with the barbell.

“Think of the barbell cutting your feet in half - not standing too close so that your shins are touching it and not too far away that you have to lean to grab it,” Jaemin coaches, your feet shuffling into the right position. “Nice. Let’s move onto the hinge movement,”

From behind you, his hands settle onto your hips, pulling them back with him. He pats them, a chuckle left in his wake as he steps to your side to demonstrate without overly being horny. 

Bastard.

“Like you just did, you’ve gotta hinge your hips backwards until you can’t hinge anymore. Then, you’ll move a little into your knees, like a squat almost so you can grab the barbell,” you follow along, the barbell cold against your hands as you blow a breath.

“Great. Keep your body tense, engage your core and glutes. No arch,” his hand hovers over the arch of your back, something teasing in his smile. “Show your chest, keep your head up straight and lift the barbell up. Remember to keep it close to your body before you lower it down with the same hinge movement and movement into your knees.”

You puff out another breath, the same fear you’ve conquered throughout the session whirring in your chest.

“Don’t worry, angel,” Jaemin smiles, moving behind you again with hovered hands around your figure. “I’ve got you. You’ve got you.” 

Again, his words dawn on you. All the power in your hands, a feeling your heart wants nothing more than to run towards as you lift up the barbell, strength personified as you wait at the top of your stance, smiling at the “Let’s fucking go, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, angel!” in your ear. You hinge backwards, the weight knocked down to the floor with no tension on your back as expected.

Once you’re upright again, Jaemin engulfs you in a backhug, lifting your figure off the floor and kissing your neck, drawing giggles out of you. Joy moves through your body like warm light at his excitement that exceeds your own, belief not setting in quite yet.

“I can’t believe you,” he coos, the mirror ahead of you capturing the embrace he holds you in, the elation in his eyes as he does nothing but adore you. Like he’s always done. “Actually, I can. You’ve got a laundry list of things you’re good at. Can you believe it?”

“Not originally,” you admit, the confession somewhat bittersweet. “But after this, I think I’d better have more faith in myself.”

Fondness finds itself in his lips again, a kiss against your cheek as he gently guides you out the way, lifting the barbell onto the rack with his gaze in the mirror directed to yours. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

And you fall into laughter, helping him slid off the weights before flexing in the mirror like you wanted, finding a different strength in yourself with Jaemin by your side.

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Sports Car

The sequel to Two Hands

Two Hands Part I, Part II

Y/n sat in the dimly lit studio, headphones snug over her ears, as the beat played for what felt like the hundredth time. She leaned back in her chair, mouthing along to the lyrics she'd scribbled down a few hours earlier, occasionally tweaking a word or two in her notebook. The explicit undertones of the song didn’t faze her; it was raw, honest, and unapologetic, just like she wanted it to be. She hit replay again and again, trying to perfect every detail.

The door to the studio creaked open, and Y/n barely looked up as her best friend, Tate, strolled in holding two iced coffees. "Still working on that song, huh?" Tate teased, plopping down on the couch and pulling her phone out. "Yup." Y/n replied without missing a beat, scribbling something down and playing the demo back for the umpteenth time.

Tate listened in silence for a moment, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. But the more she absorbed the lyrics, the more her jaw slowly dropped. By the time Y/n got to the second chorus, Tate was staring at her like she’d grown another head.

"Are we gonna just ignore the elephant in the room right now?" Tate finally said, setting her phone down. Y/n arched a brow, leaning back in her chair. "What?" Y/n asked. "What?" Tate echoed in the same tone, letting out a disbelieving laugh. "This song! Who is this about, and why are you suddenly… so worked up?" Y/n rolled her eyes, spinning her chair lazily to face her friend. "It’s nothing. Just… a song."

Tate snorted, crossing her arms. "Right. A song that happens to be very… explicit about what you want to do to someone. Come on, Y/n. We both know it's about Papaya." Y/n rolled her eyes at the code name they gave Lando. It wasn't practical or secretive in any way possible. It was so dumb. And yet, the mention of his code name, Y/n’s cheeks warmed, but she shrugged it off. "It’s not about anyone in particular. It's...I don't know. It's just setting the tone for the album, I guess." She said, avoiding Tate’s knowing gaze. "Besides, it’s not like I’m going to see him anytime soon. We only ever run into each other at races."

Tate narrowed her eyes, sliding the iced coffee across the table to her. "Uh-huh. Sure. But, girl, you need to stop lying to yourself. If this song is even half as honest as your feelings, you’re clearly still thinking about him. Just tell him what you want, he’s not a mind reader." Y/n sighed, taking a long sip of her drink. "I’m not telling him anything, Tate. It’s never going to go anywhere. We’re both too busy, and I’m not about to complicate things."

Tate groaned, throwing her head back. "Fine, fine. But let me see what you’ve got so far." She grabbed the notebook from the desk before Y/n could protest. Her eyes widened as she read the first line aloud. "Hey, cute jeans, take mine off me?" She burst out laughing, nearly dropping the notebook. "Are you kidding me?" Y/n shrugged, smirking. "You told me to be honest, so… that’s the energy I’m bringing to this song."

Tate kept flipping through the pages, her laughter growing louder. "Pretty blue streetlights and my hazel eyes, and if it feels right, we could go again like 3 or 4 more times? Y/n, who are you?" Y/n winked, leaning back in her chair. "My favourite part is the next bit. "On the corner of my bed, or maybe on the beach, you could do it on your own, while you're looking at- oh my god!" Tate squealed, chuking the notebook onto the table. "Think he’ll pick up on the hints?" Tate stared at her, utterly dumbfounded, before bursting into another fit of laughter. "This is not a hint, this is an open invitation. But honestly? If this doesn’t get his attention, nothing will."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Max Fewtrell’s stream was buzzing with activity. Thousands of viewers flooded the chat, firing off questions for him and his guest, none other than Lando Norris. The two were sitting in Max’s gaming setup, laughing about something dumb when a specific question caught Max’s eye. "Oi, Lando." Max said, grinning mischievously as he leaned closer to his monitor. "Chat wants to know what you think about Tate and Y/n’s new song."

Lando blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "They has a new song?" Max turned to him, his brows shooting up. "Mate, where have you been? It’s everywhere. There’s a music video too." Lando leaned back in his chair, his interest piqued. "Oh, I didn’t know. I mean, I like their stuff so… yeah, put it on I guess." He said ruffling his curls. "Alright, chat." Max said, smirking as he pulled up the song. "Let’s see what all the hype is about."

The track began, the sultry beat filling the room. On the screen, the music video played, showing Y/n moving effortlessly to the rhythm. Lando’s eyes were glued to the screen, his focus narrowing in on every word she sang and every move she made. "Hey, cute jeans, take mine off me." Y/n’s voice purred, her tone teasing yet commanding. Max burst out laughing, glancing at Lando. "This is… uh, quite forward, huh?" Lando, however, was silent, his gaze locked on the screen.

In the alley in the back

In the centre of this room,

With the windows rolled down,

Boy, don't make me choose

As the video continued, the lyrics grew bolder, the visuals more suggestive, and Lando couldn’t help the slight flush that crept up his neck.

Pretty blue streetlights and my hazel eyes,

And if it feels right, we could go again like 3 or 4 times.

Max snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. "Well, I mean, they know what they want." Lando let's out a soft chuckle at his remark.

On the corner of my bed,

Oh and maybe on the beach,

You can do it on your own,

While you're looking at me

Lando finally tore his gaze from the screen, a small, almost shy smile on his face. "Its a good song, actually." He smiles as the music seems to fade away for the time being. "You’ve met that one, right?" Max asked casually, still watching the video. Lando nodded. "Yeah, briefly. In Vegas."

"Vegas, huh? Sounds like a story there." Max wiggled his eyebrows knowing exactly what happened, but Lando just laughed it off, shaking his head. "Nah, nothing like that. She’s cool, though."

Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/n and Tate were watching the stream from her apartment, Tate’s laptop propped up on the coffee table. At first, they’d been laughing at Max’s antics, but as Lando’s voice filled the room, the mood shifted. Tate frowned, glancing at Y/n. "Briefly? That’s all he’s going to say? What about everything else? The flirting, the sneaking ro his hotel room, the…" Y/n waved her off, her expression unreadable. "Doesn’t matter."

"It does, though." Tate pressed. "You’ve got to say something. You can’t just let this keep happening." Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You’re right. It’s time I did something about this." Tate’s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and disbelief on her face. "Wait, are you saying you’re finally going to tell him how you feel?" Y/n scoffed, looking almost repulsed by the idea. "God, no." Tate frowned. "Then what are you going to do?"

Y/n’s lips curled into a sly smile, a spark of mischief lighting up her eyes. "I have a better idea."

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Aftermath

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Synopsis: In the aftermath of Eddie’s death, you visit Wayne and you grieve Eddie together. You admit to him you never got to tell Eddie how you feel, but unbeknownst to you, Eddie hears your confession and is trying to make his way back home to you from the Upside Down. 

Warnings: heavy angst; grief; depression; mention of character death; smut (18+ minors dni); oral (m receiving); piv/unprotected sex; dirty talk; sub/sort of switch!eddie; smoking

A/N: I wanna shout out @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours @losingmygrasponreality and @munsonsmixtapes y'all are great- thank you for letting me talk to y'all about this fic <3

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! And requests are currently open :)

Everything still didn’t feel real. As the dust settles and Hawkins begins to pick up the pieces, you still feel like you’re stuck underwater. He’s gone- and everyone around you celebrates like they're better off for it. People rise from the ashes, content to keep the world turning- so much progress yet you are completely paralyzed. And it feels like no one else cares. 

They do care. They’re just happy. Relieved to be rid of the devil worshiping, fork tongued, serial killer that they fabricated and made the villain of this nightmare. They celebrate, and embrace, treating the aftermath like an uplifting time. You’re stuck- paralyzed by the immense pain that sits deep in your chest. It weighs you down, and you wished for anything but this. 

You wished for Eddie, because he’s the one person who’d pull you out of this when you’d spiral. You can’t feel grounded because your rock is gone. Your heart hangs so heavy with regret as you mourn your best friend and the love of your life. And you never got to tell him. 

As Jason and his friends created a witch hunt, everyone’s priority was to keep Eddie safe- there  \were so many times you felt like you should’ve said something. Your inner voice yelling at you to do anything- something before it was too late. You chickened out every time, petrified of rejection and worried you’d ruin what you had more than it had already been threatened. 

Now you don’t know how to feel anything at all. He’s just gone. And the rest of the town moves on. And you can hardly breathe, covered with dust as you stay exactly where you were. You weren’t there at the end, and you wish you’d had. To be with him, comfort him, make him know just how much he means. You’re angry you didn’t stick up for yourself when the group suggested you didn’t follow them. You’re angry you let Eddie convince you to stay behind when they traveled into the Upside Down. You should have been there. 

So now, like a body possessed, you go through the motions to get by with hardly living. You’re a shell, floating aimlessly from one thing to the next but you aren’t there. Because Eddie isn’t there. You miss him so much your brain can’t handle the amount of grief that’s overtaking you. You feel consumed by such an immense sadness just all the time. 

Dustin was the first person you saw, and you both held each other as you both wailed. He didn’t have to say anything, you instinctively knew. Both of you, tangled up in pain, holding on to the last bit of him you both had in that moment- each other. You both crumbled , and you cried so hard until your bodies exhausted themselves. 

Compelled to just make yourself feel anything, sick of the numbness- just wanting to expel the dark cloud sitting inside you, you find the strength to make your way to the Munson trailer, just hoping Wayne would be there. You knew Wayne needed you, and you needed him. You needed Wayne in your life- the father figure that stepped up for Eddie, but also for you. 

When Wayne opens the door, you notice he looks completely destroyed. His eyes, like yours, are bloodshot from tears and a man who you once thought was the tallest man in the world, looks so very small. The same small cloud that has dwelled in you since he died, also festered and plagued Wayne. 

The second he opens the door, you need a hug. Suddenly, you feel like a little kid again, safer now that Wayne is around. In his embrace, you feel heard, without needing to speak. You know he’s feeling the same pain, the same loss, and he’s the only person in the whole world that you need to be near right now. You just pray that he lets you in.

“He didn’t do it,” you sob, clinging to Wayne’s flannel shirt. He rubs your back comfortingly. 

“I know he didn’t,” he soothes you, but you can still hear that he’s crying as well. 

Wayne holds you and it gives him some solace for the first time in weeks. He’s relieved that you’ve come back to visit. You're the first of Eddie’s friends to make the journey over. But, of course you were. 

Once you manage to pull yourself somewhat together, you pull away from the hug. “I wanted to know if I could still come visit,” you ask meekly, desperate to encase yourself back into Eddie’s world. Wayne nods, hugging you again, stroking your head to comfort you as the tears begin to fall again. 

“I loved him, I love him,” you confess pathetically and Wayne shushes you like a child needing to be comforted. It’s a sound you’re familiar with. There have been many moments in your life where Wayne was the one there to pick up the pieces. Bullies would be mean to both you at school, Eddie and you would run home with tear stained cheeks, and he’d hold you both like how he’s holding you now. 

“I know, kiddo,” he soothed. “I know.” 

“Can- can I go to his room? Just for a minute,” you plead. 

“You can stay as long as you want,” Wayne promises, stepping aside to let you in. 

The trailer hasn’t changed- it’s got that look about it, always. It’s comforting to look around it and just feel him. It sounds so crazy but you swear you can feel Eddie- your senses are just overwhelmed with so much of him after weeks of an extreme emptiness. 

His room is untouched, you can tell Wayne hasn’t been ready to go in. His unmade bed, his dirty laundry, his tapes- everything is exactly as he left it. The bed he won’t crawl back into, the tshirts he won’t wear, the new tape that he’ll never hear- it’s all paused. A room that was once as lively as the boy who lived in it now felt like a time capsule that is the only proof that he was there. 

You sit on his bed, trying to commit it all to your memory. You feel so dizzy, and all you can do is fixate on every detail. Petrified you’ll forget something, which will turn into something else, and then before you know it you’ve lost all of the pieces that make Eddie. 

Laying on his bed, you stare up at the ceiling, you just let yourself sink into your sadness. You feel engulfed by him, his essence. It’s the closest you know you’ll ever get to the real thing again. You burrow into his pillow and blankets and just let yourself become fully cased in, you close your eyes and you can almost pretend he’ll be there when you open your eyes. He’ll be there, sitting on the floor strumming his guitar like he had done a million times before. You swear you can feel him there. 

He’s screaming for you, begging you to hear him. He’s scared and alone and can’t get out. He’s stuck in this limbo. He can see you, he can see everyone- no one knows he’s alive. He’s trying to reach out to you as he stands in his room, only in the Upside Down. His face is messy with grime and tears, his whole body aches. He can’t muster up the strength to run anymore. Seeing you like this though? Worse than anything else he feels like he’s been through. He needed to get back home, but he couldn’t figure out how. 

 He hears a gentle knock on the door, and it feels like a million miles away. Even if it doesn’t matter, he steps aside still trying to talk to you when he watches Wayne walk in. For the first time, Eddie’s speechless. He gives up on his talking for just a moment, he scrambles around his room, looking for any way to send the two of you a sign. 

Wayne takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He rubs your back gently over Eddie’s comforter. He doesn’t want you to think he wants you to leave. Eddie’s looking through the wreckage of his bedroom in the Upside Down, he needs to find his radio. He can see it on top of his dresser in the real world, and he’s trying to find the one there. If he can play something, anything, maybe he has a shot that the two of you will hear it. 

“I called your house, they know you’re with me,” Wayne says soothingly. He can see the blanket move so he knows you nodded. “I was hoping you’d take me up on having dinner here,” he adds. “I’m so used to cooking for two..,” he trails off, not wanting to make you any sadder. He sees the comforter nod again, and he pats your shoulder to make his exit. 

“Did you know?” you ask suddenly, Wayne turning around in the doorway. “Do you think he knew?” You ask, sitting up a little and wiping your eyes. Eddie stops his search and his eyes are just focused on you. 

“Did I know what, sweetheart?” Wayne asks softly. You take a few shaky breaths. 

“Was it obvious..,” you are embarrassed, “Was it obvious that I liked him? I never told him…”

“We didn’t really talk about stuff like that,” he responds. “But, you and Eddie had such a special bond… You meant so much to him, don’t let that be the thing you focus on.”

“I waited and then it was too late,” you sniffle. 

“Eddie loved you more than anything,” Wayne reiterates, and you know it’s true. You just didn’t know in what way. 

Eddie thinks he might be sick. He jumps over a pile of his dirty clothes to kneel on the bed in front of you. He knows you can’t see him, it doesn’t matter. He stares into your eyes even though he knows you aren’t seeing him back. 

“The whole time?” he laughs, tears welling up again, he hits his fist to the mattress. “Of course I liked you, oh my god. I couldn’t have been more obvious! On what planet would I not be completely head over heels in love with you?” He exclaims. His laughter sounds almost delirious- he feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind. “Oh my god, baby, I- Fuck this,” he grumbles. “This is bullshit,” he says, looking around the room again for something to use. “I’m getting back there,” he announces to the void, “I’m getting back there and I swear to god, the first thing after I kiss you- I’m making fun of you for being so stupid to think I wouldn’t like you. Christ, where the fuck is my stereo?” 

His foot kicks something and he curses, but then he laughs triumphantly because he hears static. He uncovers the stereo from under one of his shirts and thankfully it looks salvageable. He sits down, pulling it onto his lap, and messes with the frequency. “Please, please, please,” he mutters over and over again, hoping to get some sort of signal out. Nothing. He tosses it aside, racking his brain trying to remember anything the group told him. “Lights, lights!” he says, scurrying over to the switch on the wall, frantically flicking it on and off. 

The lights in the room suddenly flicker, and your head tilts, looking up at the ceiling light. Your first instinct is to brush it off, the bulb probably just needs to be replaced. The annoyance of the flickering switch is enough to get you out of bed to turn off the light. You walk over to flip the switch to off, and you realize the overhead light is already switched to off. Puzzled, you look over, and see the lamp on Eddie’s bedside table is flickering now too. Then, the hall light flickers, like some electric current is running the length of the house messing with the lights. The lights over the kitchenette start to flicker next, and it makes Wayne jump. 

You follow the light trail, trying to figure out what’s going on. You look to Wayne and he looks just as mystified as you. Eddie, in the meantime, is banging the walls, flipping the switches, trying anything to get your attention. He’s yelling incoherent nonsense, jumping around, hitting things- fuck the monsters, he’s not afraid anymore. He’s not letting an opportunity to let you know that he’s there slip by. 

“Might be the generator acting up,” Wayne muses, explaining the odd sight away. You aren’t convinced, but you don’t know any better. So many parts of the journey, you were left out- you didn’t know about the electromagnetic elements of the Upside Down. You were left out of the loop, Eddie insisting you stay back for your own safety more times than not. You were mad at him still for that, honestly. Eddie knew Jason could’ve used you in some way to get to him. The less you knew, the better he felt. You resented it, knowing you could’ve handled Jason and his goons. It doesn’t matter anymore. 

“You think so?” You mumble, unconvinced. You observe as there seems to be an obvious pattern to the flickering of the lights. It was like someone was running up and down the length of the trailer, messing with the switches. The generator is the easiest answer, and the rational side of you tells you to just let it be. The other side of you, maybe the delusional side- looking for any sort of sign, thinks it’s something. 

“Can I use the phone?” You ask, and Wayne nods. You grab the receiver off of the base and start dialing Dustin’s home phone number. Wayne continues to work on dinner, turning on his portable radio to offer you some privacy as you make a call. 

“Hi Mrs. Henderson,” you say when Dustin’s mother answers. “I understand that it’s dinner time, I’m sorry. I was just hoping Dustin could talk for just a few minutes? I understand, ma’am. Please, just this once? Thank you, ma’am.” 

Dustin sounds confused when he says your name on the other end of the phone. “What’s going on?” He asks, understandably confused. 

“The lights in Eddie’s trailer are going haywire,” you explain, not sure how to explain it to him. “It’s so weird, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s random- but it doesn’t feel that way. It’s just Wayne and I here, but it’s like someone is flipping the switches over and over again.” 

Eddie says a little prayer that Henderson will pick up on the fact that he’s trying to let you guys know he’s there. He watches you intently as you listen to Dustin, and answer his follow-up questions. He watched as you try to hold back a smile, the first one in weeks to Grace your pretty face. 

“Are you sure?” You ask again in disbelief, listening to Dustin’s theory. You’re skeptical, you can’t let yourself believe Eddie might be alive. You couldn’t bear the disappointment. 

“We’ve seen it before,” Dustin says, and you can tell he’s rushing off the phone. “Trust me, let me figure something out. Do you know Morse code?” 

“No,” you answer dejectedly. You also don’t know if Eddie would know any Morse code, but maybe Dustin knew more than you. 

“That’s okay,” Dustin says, you hear him scribbling something down. “See if there’s something you can figure out. A pattern, anything- I got to go. My mom is gonna flip out if I’m not back like now.  I can call you back after dinner- use Eddie’s walkie.” 

Dustin hangs up abruptly and you place the receiver down, dejectedly. You smile towards Wayne and the lights finally settle down. You offer to help and Wayne happily takes you up on the offer. It’s a small space, but the two of you make it work. It’s a nice silence, but it also weighs heavy among you. It shouldn’t be like this. It should be chaotic and messy and loud and he should be here. 

“Remember that one Halloween you took Eddie and I trick or treating, and we both wanted to be Casper,” you reminisce. Wayne offers a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“You both tricked me, I dropped Eddie off at your house and it wasn’t until I was halfway back home that I realized I had the wrong kid,” Wayne huffs, and you break into a fit of giggles. “Just like that,” he points at you, “you laughed just like that under the sheet and you gave yourself away.” 

Wayne hands you a plate and you both sit down at the tiny kitchen table. You’re happy to see him like this. He’s not okay, and you’re not okay. But for now, he’s letting you in- and he’s letting you in so he can heal, even if never fully. He knows Eddie would want you here. 

You settle back into a comfortable silence again as you both eat. Both of you just happy to not be alone. You know your other friends feel this loss- everyone is just pained with losing Eddie. Everyone’s spirits are broken. Wayne and you knew Eddie best, the longest. Everyone is mourning their friend. Wayne and you are mourning Eddie in every phase of his life. 

Grief is a fickle thing. It comes down in waves. Unpredictable and always messy. And always uniquely different. It’s an anchor that sits on your chest and the seams that hold you together in the moments where you miss them the most. It also makes you emboldened. Too sad to care about anything- it lowers inhibitions and makes you realize how life is too short to be embarrassed. And it hits you all at once, and you don’t even know when you started crying into your food. 

It’s an ugly cry- the kind where you struggle to breathe, your nose runs uncontrollably and it sounds inhuman. Wayne comforts you the best he can, resting a hand on your shoulder. You can hardly speak as you manage to talk between heavy sobs. 

Eddie’s devastated. It hurts him so much to see you like this. He’s never seen this and he hopes soon he won’t have to again. Because he’ll figure out how to get home to you. As Wayne pulls you into a hug, Eddie makes a vow that no matter what he’s getting back. He racks his brain, trying to remember what his friends told him about the Upside Down. He wishes he could contact Dustin- he’s in no condition to even try to head over to his house. He needs to stay here- hoping you will continue to pick up on the clues. 

You ask Wayne if you can stay in Eddie’s room a little longer after dinner. He of course says yes. You help him with the dishes, and then head back to Eddie’s room. On his desk, you’re shifting through the clutter to try to find paper. So you can make notes of any weird occurrences. Eddie watched intently as you carefully move the amps, and find a composition book he had stashed away. It’s just a junk notebook, he’d use it to scribble or write down song ideas or brainstorm campaigns. 

You flip to a blank page as you take a seat at his desk chair. Eddie’s thankful he remembers a little Morse code- at least he learned something for the very brief time he was a scout (before he was kicked out). He walks over to the switch on the wall. 

One short flash, one long flash 

One short flash, one king flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

Three short flashes, one long flash 

One short flash 

He repeats this over and over again, not sure what else he can do or what else he can relay. He knows you don’t know Morse code, and it needs to be simple enough that you can pick up the sequence and tell it to Dustin. He watches over your shoulder as you write down what you’ve seen. 

He watches as you look around until you locate his walkie. You press the button to speak. 

“Dustin?” You ask hesitantly, feeling a little foolish. 

“Dustin, over,” you hear him say, and you roll your eyes. 

“Yeah- there’s definitely a pattern here,” you say. 

“Say over when your done talking, over.”

“That’s stupid, over,” you quip. 

“Do you want my help or not? Over,” Dustin replies, obviously getting frustrated. 

You read off your notes to Dustin and it takes a few minutes for him to respond. The waiting is what’s killing you. Eddie tries to think of something else he can relay with the lights. Hopefully what he's done is enough, he thinks. 

“It spells alive, over,” Dustin says at last. You can hear the excitement in his voice, and it makes you feel like you’ve been able to take a full deep breath for the first time in weeks. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, trying to hold back. You can’t let yourself spiral. You can’t let yourself get your hopes up. It would break you. “Oh shit, the lights are doing something else now!”

One short flash 

One long flash, two short flashes 

One long flash, two short flashes 

Two short flashes 

One short flash

“What’s it say?” You ask impatiently. 

“It spells out Eddie,” Dustin responds, and Eddie can hear the happiness in his voice. 

“Oh fuck,” you exclaim, excitedly. You get up and pace anxiously. “How do we get him back, Dustin?” You ask, panicked, “How do I get him home?” 

“Shit,” Dustin replied, “We need to open the gate.” 

“How do we do that?” You insist. 

“Standby,” Dustin states matter of factly. “Can you stay at Eddie’s tonight?” 

“Sure, of course- whatever I need to do,” you say with certainty. 

“See if you can get anything else. Maybe he’ll send us something,” Dustin instructs. “We need to rope everyone else in on this. So we can do anything until tomorrow.” 

“We just found out that Eddie’s alive, stranded in hell and you’re saying we aren’t waking everyone else up and dealing with this immediately?” You’re angry. 

“We need to strategize, we can’t just half ass this,” Dustin rationalizes. “We need to figure out what to do,  we can’t exactly just call Eleven and just have her open a gate. Everyone is still looking for her. Besides, we don’t know if it’s actually Eddie yet either.”

“Of course it’s Eddie!” You interject. 

“We also can’t hurt him,” Dustin explains. “If we open the gate, it might send creatures his way that he isn’t strong enough to deal with. We need to do this right.” 

You can’t explain how it happened. It was really Dustin who headed the whole operation. You did your best to help, remembering some things from before. You watched your friends in awe, everyone banded together- no one stopping round the clock. It was incredible to witness. Your heart swelled. Everyone just loved Eddie, and no one was stopping until he was home safe. It was a group effort. Even Susie was phoned in from out of state to help out. It was sweet, watching Dustin get flustered as the two of them talked over walk-in talkie. You’d been waiting in the back of Nancy’s car,  Robin anxiously playing with the walkie- the three of you on stand-by as Steve, Jonathan and the others disappeared into the woods, hoping to bring Eddie out. You all wait, silently begging for any sort of update. And then you see them, huddled together- a group effort to carry Eddie. 

Eddie. 

He feels like he can finally breathe. The clean air fills his lungs and he feels like part of his old self again. Slung around Steve for support, he’s limping still from his injuries but he might as well have been running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Real life doesn’t feel real, it suddenly feels better. Especially, when he lifts his head and sees you right there, waiting for him. 

He smiles, that dopey perfect smile of his, like nothing happened. All he can do is just see you, it’s all he’s thought about and he’s just taking it all in- just you. In the flesh, standing right in front of him, waiting for him and loving him. He made it back to you, his girl, just like he promised himself he would. 

You can’t bear it any longer, you rush to his side, taking the weight of him from Steve- pulling Eddie in to a panicked embrace, like you might lose him again. He’s here, he’s actually really here. You realize you can’t squander this- not taking time for granted again. Not when he’s made it back to you like this. You sob, overwhelmed. The feeling of him after all this time has left you stunned. Everything else just fades- nothing matters now except him and the feeling of him against you like this. 

“Hi to you too, sweetheart,” he coughs, happily throwing his arms around you. Steve steps back to give you both space. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against your hair, kissing your forehead. Although it makes him wince to move his arm, he tilts your chin up to look at him. “And I’m so sorry I never did this sooner.” 

He presses his lips to yours, and you gasp softly in surprise at first. His hand cups your jaw and you feel his smile when you begin to kiss him back. His lips are so soft, except for the small cut that’s starting to heal. You’re too wrapped up in him to even notice. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close. 

“I love you,” you rush, pulling away from the kiss- desperate to finally tell him. “I love you so much-“ he cuts you off with another kiss, not able to get enough of you. He knows! Oh God, he knows and he wants to sing it from the rooftops when his body doesn’t ache like this. But, fuck- he knows. And that is the best feeling. 

Wayne waits patiently, watching the two of you. He always knew you’d end up like this. He wasn’t one to interfere- but he knew before either of you. He considers himself so lucky to have watched your story together unfold. Shit, tears well in his eyes. His Eddie is home and safe. That’s all he cares about. His boy is alive and well and loved. Everything is going to be alright again. You all can move through this, together. 

“Love you so much,” Eddie says, pulling back. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “I gotta see Wayne,” he whispers and you nod, helping him walk the rest of the way up the small dirt road to the trailer where Wayne waits in the doorway. You pass Eddie off to him, and it makes your heart swell watching Wayne pull him into a big hug as Eddie buried his face in Wayne’s shoulder like he would when he was little. 

Wayne helps Eddie into the trailer, and you follow closely behind after everyone says their goodbyes for now. You and Wayne help ease Eddie onto his bed, and all of the muscles in his body relax. He sighs, relieved, resting his head against his squished, unkempt pillows. Wayne pulls the blanket over him, and you head to the kitchenette to get Eddie water. A few seconds later, Wayne emerges from the room, slowly to avoid making noise.

“He passed out,” Wayne chuckles and you smile. He looks back to the closed bedroom door and then back to you. “I can’t believe I have to leave him already and go back to work,” he sighs. He looks to the clock on the wall, he’ll be due for his shift tonight. “I hate to have to go, but he’ll probably sleep the whole time.. right?”

“I think so,” you reassure Wayne. “Can I stay?” You ask hopefully. 

“Honey, you’re family. You stay as long as you want- you don’t need to ask me that.”

“I know, I just- I always just want to make sure I’m not overstaying my welcome.” 

“You’re a good kid.” 

With that, Wayne’s gone for now. Somehow miraculously back to the same Wayne you always knew. Everything has begun to settle. All of the parts that fragmented and tore him up are all falling back into place. He can do what he’s always done. His life revolved around Eddie- and he’s so relieved it can continue to do so. So for Eddie’s sake, he forgoes missing work again, and heads to his next shift. 

You look to the door of Eddie’s bedroom, suddenly a place that filled you was such an immense pain sparks butterflies and giddiness in your stomach. The space feels alive again even though he’s sleeping so soundly when you slip back inside. Your sweet, beautiful Eddie- taking up all the space in the room again and captivating your attention. He looks so exhausted but you still think he looks so angelic, as always. 

You don’t want to hurt him, so you keep your distance the best you can when you slide into the bed to lay next to him. Settling in on your side, you watch his gentle inhales and exhales and study all of the little details on his face like you have before- just so happy that you can do it again. Eddie wakes up shortly after, his brown eyes, that always make you seem to melt, are looking at you- taking in all of you again, just like you to him. How could ever not know he loved you when he looked at you like that? 

“C’mere,” he mumbles, his good arm reaching out to pull you in closer to his side. Hesitantly, you scoot closer, not wanting to hurt him. He picks up on that, always so good at reading you, and pulls you flush against his side. “So much better,” he sighs, kissing the tip of your nose. “There’s my girl.” His lazy smile makes you feel so warm. Your eyes linger on his lips, wanting desperately to kiss him again, just all the time- so you do, because you finally can. 

He helped save the world and he got the girl. This was not the way Eddie thought life would turn out for him. He’s not the main character, he’s not the hero- not like this, never like this. These were the stories he’d write about- a story like this is something he would just live through vicariously. But after everything, after all the heartache and the loss and the tragedy, he feels like he’s finally lived. But most of all, he feels like that because of you- he’s unapologetically yours. After years of silent, hopeless pining- secret yearning that he keeps hidden deep in himself- he feels so indescribably happy. It’s all due to you, and the way you’re looking at him at this moment. 

You offer Eddie nothing but sweet, soft kisses- scared to take it further because of his injuries. You don’t know how he’s feeling, so you feel yourself holding back. It’s still just as perfect as you always imagined kissing him would be. Tangled up in his sheets, your leg rests over his and your hands delicately rest on his chest. You fill his senses, and he swears despite how he must look, he’s never felt better. He wants to deepen the kiss- hell, there’s so many things he wants to do right now. His fingertips graze under the hem of your shirt, touching your soft skin. 

“Is this too much?” you ask, biting your lip. You’ve shifted so you’re hovering over him. Your hands rest on his shoulders. You’re worried about taking things too far, you don’t want to hurt him, but god, you don’t think you can keep holding back much longer. 

“Fuck no,” he exhales, his hands find your hips and pulls you down so you’re resting your weight on him so your stradling him. You can feel how hard he is, and it makes you surge with a little bit of pride, just knowing how you have this effect on him. Experimentally, you grind against him as you kiss him again. He moans against your lips and it sounds so strangled and desperate- it goes right to your core. He wishes he could reciprocate more- god, he really did. As soon as he’s better, he promises. 

You smirk, against his lips, pleased with yourself that you can make him sound like that. It’s addicting. You need more, you want to experience everything. Testing the waters, you kiss his neck as you reach down to unzip his jeans. His head falls back against the pillows and he sighs, contently as you free his hard cock from the confines of his jeans and his boxers. Fuck, he’s gorgeous like this. You can tell he’s insecure- the scars on his body from what he went through, and you’re going to show him that you think he’s stunning. 

“You’re so pretty, Eds,” you reassure him, trailing your fingertips down his torso and then pulling up his Hellfire t-shirt. You bat your lashes at him and he feels his knees grow weak. You pull your own shirt over your head and toss it haphazardly aside. His mouth suddenly feels dry, and his eyes widen. The sight is almost too much for him to take. There’d been so many nights where he’d imagined you like this- but nothing, absolutely nothing in his head measured up to this. It’s all you- his best friend, the love of his love, perched on his lap oh so prettily looking at him with a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and he’s speechless. 

You move so you can bend down and press your lips to his leaking tip. You kiss and lick the precum away before slowly taking his cock in your mouth. The noises he’s making are filthy, breathy moans and it only fuels your desire to unravel him. You’re only getting started. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he wines, and you bob your head up and down the length of his shaft teasingly slow. It’s almost methodical, you pulling him apart like this. Slow and purposeful- long drawn out fucking teasing thats making his entire body shake with need. You hum content, pleased with how he’s responding to you. You look at him, from behind your eyelashes, wide doe eyes connecting with his before you pull away, a string of your saliva stretching between your swollen lips and his head. He thinks he might pass out and your hand wraps around his cock. 

“Is this okay?” you ask, smirk forming on your lips as you feign innocence. You watch as his mind stutters, unable to form a coherent response. He nods, his eyes closing tight from the sensation. It’s all too much. You press your lips to his neck, trailing kisses across his jaw. “Use your words, baby,” you purr, your breath warm on his face. “Don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, and then suck gently leaving a little mark on his neck. 

“Please,” he whimpers, not even sure what he’s asking for. He pants, it’s all too much. 

“Please what, love?” you smile, kissing down his chest and your fingertips trace his scars lovingly as you admire his exposed skin. You move his bangs out of his eyes delicately as you gaze down at him. 

“Need you,” he pleads, leaning up as much as he can to reconnect his lips to yours. “Fuck, need you so bad, baby.” 

You pull off your jeans and toss them to the floor near your shirt. Now, you’re just left in your bra and panties. You’re a little nervous- but you shouldn’t be. There’d been so many instances over past summers where you and Eddie have gone swimming together. This isn’t showing any more than that, but this is different. This is so different. Because you wouldn’t see him staring at you, gawking at how you’d look in your two pieces. He’d keep his desire hidden away, so you never knew how crazy you made him. Now, there’s no stolen glances. It’s all laid out in the open, and he’s staring at you with such an intensity that you can’t focus on anything else. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he sighs, reaching out to feel you. His hand trails across your side, running down your curves. He rests his hand on your hip, feeling the soft fabric of your panties. “I like these,” he winks, releasing the band and watching it snap back into place against your hip. “So pretty.”

You reach behind you as he smiles up at you, and unhook your bra letting it fall. You watch his Adam's apple bob as you pull the material away. His eyes darken as he gulps, god you were so fucking perfect. “Fuck, you have perfect fucking tits,” he groans, reaching down to stroke his cock, needing to relieve himself if only just a bit, as he takes in all of you. You shimmy out of your panties quickly, wanting to be close to him again as soon as possible. You press your lips against his, and you straddle his lap again. 

You can feel the coolness of his rings against you as he lines himself up with your entrance. You slide down onto his cock and the stretch feels so goddamn good. You moan, holding onto his shoulders to stabilize you. “Mmm Eddie,” you gasp, surprised when he thrusts up and his hands rest on your hips. He guides you, letting your hips do most of the work then- guiding you to fuck yourself on his cock. Your brain is fogged with lust- it feels so fucking good. He feels so good. It’s all so incredible, you can’t think straight as you lose yourself in the movement, working up to a steady rhythm. 

“That’s it baby,” he praises. “You’re doing so good, fuck. Use me, sweetheart. Want you to get yourself off with my cock.” He smirks when you whimper, loving the way he’s speaking a little too much. Your whines are his favorite sound, he decides. It’s all too much, he doesn’t know how long he can hold out. Your blissed out expression, your tits bouncing in his face, your hips moving against him, your pussy taking his cock so well… it’s so much better than he could’ve dreamed. You’re like an angel, and he’s mesmerized taking it all in. 

“Fuck, your so big, Eds,” you whine, moving your hips and grinding against him. Without losing your pace, you lean and kiss him hungrily, and you feel the all too familiar knot start to form in your stomach. “‘M so close,” you mumble, cock drunk and chasing your own orgasm. “Wanna cum together,” you plead against his lips. You straighten your back, and you decide to give him a show. You bring your hands up, massaging your tits and tug at your hardened nipples as you continue to bounce on his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, I-“ he strains, reaching around you and grabbing your ass, squeezing as he matches your pace and thrusts up into you. His fingernails dig into your flesh and the sensation makes you dizzy. It’s all too much, it all feels too good. You feel like everything is heightened, your senses are all too overwhelmed in him. He sits up fully, pressing fevered kisses on your torso, mumbling how much he fucking loves you, and it’s enough to send you over the edge. 

The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock, is enough to make Eddie orgasm shortly after you. Whimpered sighs of relief escape his pretty lips as he finishes inside you, you moving your hips until he’s pulling out, all of his energy spent. He collapses back into his pillows, his chest rising and falling heavily to catch his breath. His hair strewn about on his pillow messily as his eyes fall heavy as he basks in the feeling of this total bliss. 

You lay down next to him, both of your bodies glistening with sweat. You take a moment to also catch your breath and you catch his eye. “Shit,” you exhale, and giggle. He smiles softly, reaching across to tuck your hair back out of your face. “That was..” you begin, not able to finish your thought and you stare at his ceiling. 

“Yeah,” he sighs in agreement. He turns his head to look at you, smirking. “You had a crush on me,” he teases. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you grumble, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re such a dork,” you mumble, tossing a pillow at him playfully.

“You really didn’t know I was in love with you?” He asks with a chuckle, leaning over carefully to grab his box of cigarettes from his dresser. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Well you didn’t know either,” you say defensively, getting up to go to the restroom. You grab your shirt and pull your panties back on- just to have something on when you go to the bathroom. When you return, Eddie’s taking a drag and he beckons you back to lay down beside him. He lifts his arm so you can take your place snuggled up to his side. He lets out a long exhale and the smoke wafts up and out of the vent in the ceiling. He kisses your forehead, and Eddie just watches as you slowly drift off. 

He’s fighting against sleep so he can finish his cigarette. He eventually realizes he can’t force himself awake much longer. He taps it out and drops it in the ashtray, the temptation of dozing off with you overtaking everything else. He wraps his arm around you and pulls the blankets up, resting his chin on the top of your head. Wrapped up in each other, the two of you sleep better than you have in months.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours

[hyunjusgf]

“Love/Hate”

pent up hate sex with the gf :3

fem!reader x cho hyun-ju

nsfw

note: hiii >_< so there was this one request (it won’t let me answer it for some reason, so the request could be attached to this, but yeah) where the reader and hyun-ju have pent up hate with each other + they end up hate fucking. i’m so sorry to the person that i couldn’t attach their request to thissss, i have no clue what’s going on with tumblr and i wrote this on my phone instead of my laptop this time :( i’m writing hyun-ju before she finished her transition :p i have another one-shot written where she finished her transition, so that will be posted soon ;3

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

You walked through the front door, slamming it behind you; before your girlfriend could get inside. You were completely mad at her and did not want anything to do with her. You kick off your shoes, having them lie around on the living room floor instead of putting them away.

“Why are you treating me like a child? I’m not a child, I don’t need you babysitting me out in public every second! I can take care of myself.” You yelled as you walked into the kitchen.

Hyun-ju opens the door and walks in, now proceeding to close the door behind her.

“Y/N, I’m not babysitting you. I’m just trying to help you out, why won’t you take my help?” She asked as she takes off her shoes, now placing them on the shoe rack and follows you to the kitchen.

“The least you could’ve done was place your shoes on the shoe rack like a normal person instead of trying to trash the place up.” She added.

You open the cabinet where you store the liquor and as you try to reach for the bottle of vodka, but Hyun-ju wraps her hand around your wrist; yanking your arm away from the bottle and she closes the cabinet with her other hand. She proceeds to push you against the kitchen wall, her larger figure completely covering yours; making sure it was impossible for you to escape.

“Now love, you completely know better than that. No drinking when we’re mad at each other.” She says, but you could care less about what she had to say.

You pushed her away, “You’re not the boss of me, you can’t tell me when I can or can’t drink!” You screamed.

As you’re trying to leave the kitchen, she grabs you by your waist; now lifting you up and placing you on the kitchen counter. Proceeding to pull your pants down, revealing your black lace panties. She gets done on her knees, leveling her face to your core and she spread your legs out.

“Oh?” She said softly.

“But I can,” she whispered softly as she pushed your panties to the side, revealing your entrance and instantly slides her digits inside you. She wasn’t gentle at all, her digits were deep inside you; pumping them at a fast pace, causing you to throw your head back as your hands gripped onto the edge of the counter: trying to hold on for dear life.

She looked up at you, a smirk appearing on her lips in satisfaction as she watched you try to suppress yourself.

“What happened to you being loud?” She asked as her mouth hovered over your clit, her warm breath causing you to squirm a bit.

“I thought we were yelling, now you’re not.” She added.

You looked down at her, she was ready to eat you out right then and there as she was fingering you.

Her digits were hitting all the right spots, noises instantly leaving from your lips as you felt her tongue press against your clit; now licking your clit as she curled her digits against your g-spot.

You moved one of your hands from the edge of the counter and moved it behind her hand, tugging on her hair as you pushed her head into your core more as she picked up the pace.

“Right there..” you cried in sensation, your needy noises covering the entire kitchen.

She could feel that you were close, she could feel your walls tightening around her digits. Your legs started shaking slightly as you began to reach your climax and as you were just about to release yourself: she removes her digits from inside you and instantly moves her face away from your heated core.

You looked at her, “Why did you do that for?” You asked as you try to catch your breath.

She couldn’t help but chuckle, “Because I can.”

She got up from the floor, and as she was about to leave the kitchen. You got off from the countertop and grabbed her arm then dragged her out from the kitchen to the bedroom, opening the bedroom door with your free hand.

“And what are you doing?” She asked as she looked down at you.

You said nothing but giggled, you carefully pushed her on the bed then climbed on top of her. You sat on her crotch, now tugging on her shirt.

“My turn,” you whispered as you moved your hands down to the hem of her shirt and lifted her shirt off of her body: removing her shirt and tossing it to the side.

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders as you leaned in to kiss her, slightly grinding against her crotch as you made out with her. You could feel her cock underneath you getting hard as you kept grinding against her.

You pulled your lips away from hers, and moved off from her crotch as you unwrapped your arms from around her shoulders. You moved yourself down to her pants, unbuckling the belt, unbuttoning them, and pulled them down along with her boxers.

Her cock instantly sprung free and you looked up at her with a smirk on your face.

“You get hard easily,” you chuckled then you wrapped one of your hands around it as you gently kissed the head. You opened your mouth, instantly taking her whole inside your mouth.

Hyun-ju’s eyes widened as she watched you take her whole, your head moving upward and downward as you were blowing her.

She groaned softly as she slightly threw her head back, her hand getting tangled in your hair. You looked up at her and saw that she was enjoying herself, tugging on your hair; urging you to keep going.

She bit her bottom lip, trying to hold herself together to not let go but she wanted to. Her cock slightly twitching inside your mouth as she grew closer to releasing but you stopped and removed her cock from your mouth, wiping the line of saliva that got left behind.

You stared into her eyes, you could tell her was mad; she was not having it.

“Y/N,” she said.

Before you could reply, she grabbed you bought you close to her and moved her mouth close to your ear.

“Just you wait.” She whispered and she moved down to your core, slightly tugging on your panties as she removed them off from you then tossed them to the side.

She then wrapped her hands around your waist and picked you up, sitting you down as her cock slid into your entrance with ease causing you to gasp.

“Shit,” she murmured as she guided you at a slow pace.

Her hands never left your waist, she stared deep into your eyes; maintaining eye contact with you, enjoying feeling herself inside you. Little whines escaped from your lips as she started thrusting from underneath you, feeling the head of her cock kissing all the right places; making you see stars.

“Yeah? Right there, love?” She cooed as she helped you pick up the pace.

You tried your best to form your words, but you couldn’t. The only response she could get from you were your cries of pleasure as you felt yourself inching closer and closer. Your walls tightening around her length, the cries of pleasure growing louder and louder by each second.

She could feel herself getting close too, her cock twitching inside you, her groans growing louder until the two of you released in each other.

Hyun-ju moved her hands away from your waist, onto your face, cupping your cheeks and kissed you deeply then pulled away with a soft smirk on her lips.

“Oh love,”

“We’re just getting started.” She finished and removed herself from inside you then flipped you over, your back now pressing against the bed.

“I hate you,” you whispered.

She then inserted herself again, now placing her hands on your waist as she began roughly pounding into you.

“Fuck!” you moaned loudly as you threw your head back.

“What was that?” Hyun-ju asked.

“I didn’t hear you,” she finished as she continued to pick up the pace, moving herself deeper inside you.

Nothing but the sound of the bed creaking, the cries of pleasure filled up the room for hours. Never reaching a stopping point until both parties agreed that they no longer hate each other after the argument they had.

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 2: "The one with the purring traitor" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

Chapter summary: You and Frankie hash out the details of your fabricated story, all while enduring the blatant betrayal of your own cat and your brother’s relentless teasing. WC: 8.4K

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so happy to see how much you enjoyed the first chapter of TBA! Your comments mean the world to me—I absolutely love reading them, and I hope you love this part just as much <3 let me know what u think ;) Don't forget to lmk if u want to be added to the tag list, and follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications <3

Friday, August 9th. One day before the party.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound breaking the quiet of your bedroom. You set your book down, its pages splaying open across the blanket, and rolled onto your side to grab your phone. The screen lit up.

[Unknown number]: Outside.

You exhaled sharply, a breath that sounded louder than it needed to. Your stomach twisted, a faint ripple of nerves spreading through you. 

Five minutes later, Frankie stood in the center of your living room, his hands planted firmly on his hips. His brows were drawn together, his expression impatient as he watched you move around the kitchen. The faint smell of tea leaves and honey filled the air as you poured hot water into your mug.

“You don’t seem to be in much of a rush,” he said finally, his voice carrying the faintest edge of irritation.

You glanced at him briefly, your hand stirring the tea as if to say he could wait.

“What’s the rush? The party isn’t until tomorrow.”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around the room, his eyes flicking to the books stacked on the coffee table, the blanket draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, the quiet clutter of a space lived in but not always tidy. He shifted his weight, his boots scuffing lightly against the floor, the impatience practically radiating off him.

You blew on your tea, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug.

“You look like you’re about to explode. Sit down, you’re making me nervous pacing around like that,” you said as you walked past him, your hand cradling the warm mug. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

Frankie hesitated for a moment, then dropped into the couch across from you. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

“What do you have that isn’t hot?”

You settled into the couch, the mug resting on the coffee table in front of you. The surface was cluttered with your used stickynotes, a few receipts, coasters, and an old pen you didn’t remember leaving there.

“Water, iced tea, a couple of cans of soda.”

Frankie leaned back, only to be interrupted by Mr. Darcy, your perpetually attention-seeking cat. The tabby appeared from the side of the couch, his soft meow high-pitched and delicate as he rubbed himself against Frankie’s leg. You frowned, betrayed.

Frankie leaned down, his hand immediately stroking the cat’s fur, and Mr. Darcy responded with a loud purr.

“What kind of soda?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my guest was royalty. Next time, send a list of your preferences in advance, princess.”

He lifted his head and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer with an expression that was almost amused. Almost.

“I just asked what fucking flavor. Relax.”

“Coke.”

“I’ll take one.”

You stood with an exaggerated sigh, letting it linger in the air, but refrained from commenting on his lack of manners. The word please seemed allergic to his vocabulary, but you didn’t feel like pointing it out. Not today.

When you returned, you set the can of Coke down on the glass coaster on the table and took your seat again. Frankie reached for the drink, his fingers brushing the cold metal as he popped it open. The hiss of carbonation filled the quiet, mingling with the soft hum of Mr. Darcy’s purring at his feet.

“Okay, tell me about them,” you said, your tone clipped and businesslike, as if the two of you were about to negotiate the terms of a merger. You folded your hands neatly on your lap and fixed your gaze on him. Frankie, meanwhile, was focused on the can of Coke he’d just opened. He tilted it to his lips, taking a long sip. The way his throat moved as he swallowed made you glance away, irritated for no good reason.

When he finally set the can down on the coaster, he looked up at you.

“My mother’s name is Helena. She’s kind, easygoing. And observant. She’ll be watching us like a hawk the entire time. She already has her doubts about... all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entirety of the situation. “So we can’t get sloppy.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“That’s going to be difficult, don’t you think?”

“Well, you’ll have to cooperate.”

You scoffed, an expression of mock offense crossing your face.

“I have to cooperate?”

“Yes. You.”

“Believe it or not, Francisco,” you said, leaning forward ,“I’m very nice. Easy to get along with. Mothers adore me.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a laugh.

“That may be,” he said, his tone skeptical. “But I can’t risk even one slip in this... circus. If we let our mutual... our mutual thing show, she’ll catch on immediately. Believe me.”

You mirrored his arched eyebrow, matching his energy.

“Fine. Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. I promise.” You let the words hang for a moment, watching as he relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. Then you added, sweetly, “I just want you to remember, at all times, that no matter how nice and lovely I am, it’s all a lie.”

Frankie leaned back, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Noted.”

The he exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes as if to physically expel his frustration. His hand moved to his neck, fingers brushing the skin in an absentminded gesture, like he was trying to ground himself. Mr. Darcy, ever the opportunist, leapt onto the couch beside him, his sleek tail flicking against Frankie’s arm. The cat’s head butted into him in what looked like a gentle plea for attention. You watched the scene for a moment, torn between amusement and suspicion, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Just get a grip, okay? You can’t react to everything I say like it’s a personal attack.”

You arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly with your cup in hand.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was preparing for some kind of intervention.

“You have to behave yourself too. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how nasty you’re being. Maybe it flies under the radar for most people, but if your mom is as observant as you claim—and she’s your mother, so obviously she knows you well—she’s going to pick up on all those little micro-attitudes. Immediately.”

You delivered the last word like a verdict, your tone carrying the weight of someone speaking to a particularly stubborn child. To your surprise, Frankie didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his expression calm, even thoughtful.  

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good,” you replied, watching him carefully as you lifted your cup to your mouth, the faint steam curling around your face. You let the warm liquid sit on your tongue, satisfied—for now—that you might have just come to an agreement with the most impossible person you’d ever met.

Frankie began describing his family in broad strokes, filling in the blanks with enough detail that you felt as if you were piecing together a portrait of his life. You listened intently, committing everything to memory like a student preparing for a crucial exam. 

Helena, his mother, was the first to come up. She was fifty-nine, a literature teacher with a reputation for being kind but quietly persuasive. Frankie mentioned that she had a particular way of asking questions that felt more like peeling back layers than making polite conversation. She still lived in Austin, sharing a house with his youngest sister, Maia, ever since his father passed away almost two years ago. That detail hung in the air for a beat longer than the others, but he moved on quickly.

Luna, his oldest sister, was next. She was forty, an interior designer based in Boston, and from Frankie’s tone, it was clear she had a strong presence in the family. “Kind, funny, a little overbearing,” he said, his mouth twitching slightly, as if recalling an incident that perfectly illustrated her character. She was married to Henry, a wealthy architect fifteen years her senior. Frankie made a point to say that Henry was a good man—honest and big-hearted—and seemed to mean it. Together, they had a ten-year-old son named Jamie.

Sofía came next, the middle sister. She was thirty-eight and owned a flower shop. Frankie described her as friendly and warm but also hinted at a guardedness beneath her cheerful exterior. She lived in Austin with her sixteen-year-old daughter, Grace, a name that carried an air of quiet reverence when he said it. You wondered what Grace was like, if she carried more of her mother’s warmth or her uncle’s sharp edges. For the sake of her, you hoped for the first option.

Finally, there was Maia. Twenty-nine, a graphic designer, and still living at home with Helena. Frankie hesitated before speaking about her, his expression shifting slightly. “Of all of them,” he said, almost reluctantly, “she’s the most complicated.” Not because she was difficult or unpleasant—quite the opposite. Maia, he explained, was the kind of person who could see through walls, so perceptive it was almost unnerving. “She’ll figure us out if we’re not careful,” he warned, his tone heavy with certainty. 

By the time he finished, you felt like you’d been handed a dossier. Each name and detail was a thread you knew you’d need to hold tightly. You nodded as he spoke, mentally sorting the names and faces into a map of relationships you’d need to navigate. This was going to be more than a performance—it was going to be a test.

Frankie exhaled, slapping his palm against his thigh with a finality that felt rehearsed, like he was drawing a line under the conversation.

“That’s it, I think,” he said, his tone flat as his eyes lingered on you. 

But you weren’t ready to let him off the hook. Squinting slightly, you folded your arms across your chest and leaned back into the couch.

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head as if that might give you a different angle on him. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know me,” he replied with unearned confidence. 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, letting the sound punctuate the silence before glancing away. Amusement tugged at the corners of your lips as you brought your gaze back to him.

“I don’t know anything about you. All I know is what little Santi’s told me, what I’ve overheard here and there... that’s it.”

“That’s something,” Frankie interjected, leaning back slightly as he crossed his arms, lifting his chin with a smugness that made your fingers itch to knock him down a peg. “Go on, then. Tell me what you know.”

His expression dared you, and you met it with a smirk of your own.

“Fine,” you said, sitting up straighter and pressing your lips together in mock seriousness. “You’re in your thirties, you live alone, you’re a pilot, you like beer... Oh, and apparently, you can devour a whole burger and fries in under ten minutes.”

Frankie snorted, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or call you ridiculous. He held your gaze, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to wait you out. But the smirk stayed on your face, unwavering, and eventually, he sighed. 

“I’m thirty-five,” he said finally, his voice measured and calm, as though reciting facts from a resume. “I live alone, yeah. Used to be in the CAG, but I retired a few years ago. Personal reasons. Now I’m teaching pilots-in-training over at the JPA.”

“Oh, right, I already knew that. That’s where you met Santi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And what were you doing there? He never told me much.”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he said, sounding either annoyed or uncomfortable—it was hard to tell. “Do you know what CAG stands for?”

"Tell me."

“Combat Application Group,” Frankie said, his tone steady, measured. “Do you know what that is?”

You arched an eyebrow, shaking your head. 

His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.

“Then they’re doing their job right. They change the name every so often. Some people know it as Delta Force.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if testing how much you could handle. “I was part of the CAG for most of my military career.”

For the first time, you found yourself leaning forward, your interest genuine, your usual quips momentarily silenced. Frankie seemed to notice, his expression softening slightly, though the seriousness never left his face. 

“Why did you retire? What happened?”

For a fleeting second, his eyebrows twitched.

“Personal issues,” he said again.

You exhaled through your nose, sitting back slightly.

“I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. Shouldn’t I know that?” 

He sighed. Shaking his head just enough to let you know he wasn’t budging, he replied:

“No one in my family is going to ask you about it.”

You studied him, your eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any crack in the armor he wore so carefully. But Frankie didn’t flinch. His shoulders remained squared, his gaze firm, the set of his mouth resolute. Whatever lay behind the personal thing was locked away, and it was clear he wasn’t going to hand you the key. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you nodded, more to yourself than to him.

"Okay, I get it,” you said with a sigh, letting your gaze fall to your hands resting in your lap. For a moment, you traced invisible patterns on your palm, your tone edging toward resignation. “What do you want me to tell you about me?” 

“Nothing. I know enough.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean. Santi has told me what’s necessary. I know enough to get by.”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your tone daring. 

Frankie gave you a slow, confident smile, as if he’d been preparing for this moment.

“You’re twenty-nine years old. Santi’s your only brother. You studied Literature, and you’ve been running your dad’s bookshop for, what, six years now?” He paused briefly, letting the words settle before continuing. “You like cats. Movies—especially horror movies. You love the cold, which is ironic since you’re from Austin, where it’s basically summer all year. And you’re... well, I wouldn’t describe you as outdoorsy or... or adventurous.” 

He glanced at you with a faint smirk just as your expression twisted in a mixture of surprise and mild disgust. His hand dropped to pet Mr. Darcy, who had curled up beside him, purring softly. “Oh, and your cat’s name is Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy," you corrected him. "Santi told you all that?” 

Frankie shook his head, his focus still on your pet, his hand moving in lazy strokes along Mr. Darcy’s back.

“He didn’t tell me outright. But he let it be known. You just have to listen.” 

There was something about his tone that irked you—a subtle but undeniable air of superiority, as if he’d decoded your entire existence from a handful of anecdotes. You studied him for a moment longer, debating whether to challenge him further, but Mr. Darcy’s contented purring seemed to deflate your frustration. For now. 

“Well, I… Well,” you faltered, unsure of what to say. "Okay, I was thinking, what should I wear to the party?"

“Something nice. Not too fancy. But cute. You know, approachable."

"Sure," you muttered, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as he smoothed a hand over the cat’s fur.

"You have to make a good impression. But not too good. You need to seem... normal. Forgettable, even. Be nice, but don’t go overboard."

"What’s the point, then? I thought my job was to be the awesome girlfriend. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Frankie leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and gave a slow shake of his head like you’d just said something profoundly silly.

"Yes, but don’t overdo it. I don’t need my family asking me about you for weeks after. Tomorrow’s the first and only time they’ll see you, so what’s the point?"

"What a waste," you whispered to yourself, but loud enough for him to catch. “But fine, your family, your rules. So, what should I bring your mom as a gift?”

Frankie waved his hand dismissively.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that covered."

“So you’ve thought of everything, huh?” you said, letting a touch of mockery creep into your voice. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal to you.”

Frankie snorted. "If this is what it takes to stop them from setting me up with every woman they know, trust me, I’m going all in. No room for half-measures here."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the familiar clutter of your living space, before a long yawn interrupted the silence.

“But why do they even care so much about you having a girlfriend? I mean, I get it—you’re, let’s say, not the easiest person to tolerate, and small talk probably feels like torture for you. But I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who needs his mom to play matchmaker,” you said, voice dripping with just the right mix of sarcasm and curiosity as you tilted your head.

“That’s a bold comment coming from someone who had to invent a fake boyfriend because her ex, who dumped her for someone else, invited her to his wedding.”

Fair. That stung, but you couldn't bring yourself to be genuinely angry. Instead, you let out a small, wry smile, your ego only slightly bruised.

Frankie continued, unfazed by the fact that he had clearly made his point. “And I have no problem getting someone,” he said, stretching his legs out casually. “I just don’t want to. I don’t feel like dating anyone, much less getting romantically involved. But of course, they don’t get that. They think I need to settle down, find a woman, all that ‘commitment’ shit.”

For a brief moment, you let your mind wander, imagining Frankie next to someone. His type, you wondered. What would she look like? Would she resemble you in any way? Definitely not, you thought. You hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat, and then asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of you was genuinely curious.

“And why don’t you want to date anyone? You’re not one of those guys with an eternal commitment problem, are you?”

Frankie took a moment to think about it. He leaned back, looking almost lost in thought, his eyes distant for a second. Then, in a flash, Mr. Darcy leapt onto his lap, pulling him back into the present moment with his typical disregard for anything that resembled personal space. Frankie shifted a little, adjusting the cat so it was comfortably curled on him.

“My last relationship didn’t end well,” he said suddenly, his voice unexpectedly serious. “We were together for about a year and a half. She broke up with me a little over a year ago. It wasn’t exactly my best moment, but her reason was that I wasn’t what she needed.” He paused, his gaze unfocused for a second, as if reliving the memory. “I tried to tell her I’d make the changes, that I really wanted to, but she didn’t care. So we broke up. And then, like two weeks later, I found out she’d been cheating on me with some guy from work—does that sound good enough for you?”

You blinked, processing it all, and felt a slight pang of sympathy, which you hadn’t expected.

“Well, that sucks,” you said, glancing down at the floor, feeling a bit awkward. You bit your lower lip, then looked back at him, unable to hide the trace of empathy in your voice. “But it makes sense now... I think."

Mr. Darcy, seemingly done with his intrusion, hopped off Frankie’s lap and sprawled on the floor instead, rolling onto his back in that exaggerated, dramatic way cats do when they’re probably overheating. His belly was exposed, a show of complete vulnerability.

"Yeah. Well. I guess," Frankie said, leaning forward as if the weight of his own words had just fully settled in. He rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, his hands becoming a tight knot as if trying to physically hold everything together. Then something seemed to click in his mind. He looked up at you, the shift in his expression almost imperceptible. “Have you talked to Santi about this?”

You furrowed your brow, a little thrown off by the question.

"No, I thought you were going to tell him."

Frankie shook his head. "I didn’t tell him anything. I thought you were going to tell him."

You clicked your tongue, trying to shake the odd tension settling in your chest.

"We should tell him, don’t you think?" Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. "Although I'm sure he'll think this is a bad idea."

When you opened the door, Santi’s smile appeared instantly, like the sun breaking through clouds. He pulled you into a hug, enveloping you in that unmistakable warmth only a brother could give. It was absurd how much you’d missed him, considering you’d seen him just two days ago. But that was the thing about Santi—he had this way of making you feel like everything was fine, or at least like it could be.

When he let go, his smile lingered. But then his gaze shifted past you, toward the living room, where Frankie stood by the couch, arms awkwardly crossed, caught somewhere between waiting and retreating.

Santi’s expression changed so fast it was almost comical—his smile collapsed into confusion, his eyebrows pulling together, eyes widening like someone had yanked a curtain back too quickly.

“Frankie?” he said, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flicked from Frankie to you and back again, his tone laced with the unspoken demand for an explanation. “What happened?” He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, nudging him as if to make sure he was real.

“Hey, man,” Frankie said, managing a small smile as he accepted Santi’s hug. His voice was casual, but you could feel the tension beneath it, like a thread pulled too tight.

Your stomach knotted, the weight of the moment pressing into you. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have agreed to Frankie’s deal, not like this, not without more thought. But it was too late to undo it now, wasn’t it? The pieces were already in motion, and there was no way to unring a bell.

Half an hour later, Santiago was sitting in the couch across from the two of you, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his expression shifting between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. He hadn’t spoken in a while, too busy digesting everything you’d just explained. When he finally did, his words cut through the silence like a whip.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. Are you crazy?” he asked, though his incredulous smile suggested he thought maybe you were joking.

You and Frankie were perched on opposite ends of the couch, as if a force field separated you, like your bodies were mutually allergic to the idea of being any closer. Frankie had his arms resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. You sat with your elbow propped on the armrest, your cheek resting against your hand, trying to look nonchalant.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Santiago asked, shaking his head.

“It’s going to work,” you said, the firmness in your voice at odds with the knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “It’s not that complicated. Harry’s already met Frankie, so that part’s fine. We go to the wedding, stay a little while, and then leave. Tomorrow? Same thing. We show up, I do my forgettable bit, and then we’re out. Easy.”

Santiago raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“¿Easy? Your mom knows me, man,” he said, turning to Frankie with an accusatory tilt of his head. “You don’t think it’s going to be complicated if she thinks you’re dating my sister?”

“I’m not planning on telling her she’s your sister,” Frankie said. He sat up straighter, his hands tightening into fists briefly before he relaxed them again. “This is a one-time thing. I promise you, it’s not going to lead to trouble. It’s just a favor. A transaction. Nothing more.”

“And what happens when they run into each other again?” Santiago asked, his voice rising slightly as he gestured between the two of you.

“How likely is that, Santi?” you shot back, your brow furrowing in irritation.

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward like he had you cornered.

“My wedding is in a few months, smartass. Frankie’s mom is invited. What’s your plan then?”

The room fell into a charged silence. Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that. Neither had Frankie, apparently, because when you turned your head, you found him looking at you for the first time since this entire mess had started. For one fleeting moment, your eyes met, a shared look of complicity—and, more importantly, desperation.

“Of course, you didn’t think of that,” Santi said, his voice cutting through the growing tension like a whip. He dragged a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes as if summoning the patience to deal with you both. When he looked up again, his expression was pure exasperation.

“God, you guys seriously make me desperate. Are you two ever going to be normal with each other? First, I have to put up with years of your petty, hateful attitudes, and now this?” He gestured between you and Frankie as if the very sight of you sitting there made him tired. “Do you want to kill me? Is that the plan? Seriously, I’m asking—do you both want me dead?”

The sheer absurdity of his words made you laugh, even though you tried to swallow it.

“Oh my God, Santi, you’re so dramatic,” you said, shaking your head, though you were half-smiling.

“Dramatic?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Hey, man, look,” Frankie cut in, like someone trying to defuse a bomb. He leaned forward slightly, his hands open, his tone edging toward apologetic. “I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll tell them she’s your sister—no big deal. And then I’ll come up with something to explain how we ‘broke up’ on the best possible terms. No drama, no mess, okay? I swear.”

You nodded quickly, eager to latch onto his plan.

“Exactly. This can stay simple, we’ll just say we broke up over something normal. Totally amicable, decided to stay friends. Easy.” Your tone softened as you leaned toward him, more pleading now. “Really, Santi. Please, please don’t get mad.”

Santi let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes like he was praying for patience.

“I’m not mad,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he might not be entirely convinced of that. His eyes opened, and he looked at you with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “I’m just surprised. Out of all the people in the world, you and Frankie are the ones pretending to date?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes as the irritation bubbled up. “It’s not like we planned this. I never thought I’d run into Harry in the middle of fucking nowhere. Besides, this wouldn’t have even happened if you—” you jabbed a finger in Santi’s direction, “—had gone looking for me in Dallas instead of sending Frankie. Or, I don’t know, if you’d given me a proper warning. I could’ve found another way home.”

Santi’s eyebrows shot up, his hand flying to his chest as if you’d physically shoved him.

“Oh, now this is my fault?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity. He pointed to himself for emphasis, his jaw tightening like he was trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation.

Next to you, Frankie snorted, shaking his head in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he thought he was being clever. You turned sharply toward him, glaring.

“Do you have something to say, Francisco?” 

Santiago let out a breathy, humorless laugh, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Frankie, meanwhile, scratched his chin, clearly deliberating how to phrase whatever was on his mind without making things worse. Or maybe he was just stalling, dragging out the moment for the fun of it.

“Yeah. First of all, I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove to this Harry guy. He’s marrying someone else, isn’t he? I doubt he cares whether or not you have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, right, 'cause you’re the paragon of honesty, aren’t you?” you shot back, the heat rising in your chest now threatening to spill out.

“Sure,” Frankie said with an infuriating nod, leaning back slightly as if to make room for whatever you were about to throw at him next.

You leaned toward him, unable to resist. “It’s not like you made up a girlfriend or anything, right? Tell me, Francisco, wouldn’t it have been easier to just act like a real man and tell your mom you don’t want to be with anyone? Instead of, you know, lying like a coward? Or is that too scary for you?”

Frankie laughed then, a low, sarcastic sound that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He shifted closer, leaning in until his face was just inches from yours, his dark eyes gleaming with something sharp and taunting.

“He’s with someone else. He doesn't care about you. Get over it—”

“No one loves you—"

“Okay, fuckin' stop it!” Santiago shot up from his seat, his hands landing firmly on his hips as he stared at you with an expression that teetered between disbelief and outright despair. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s how you’re going to convince people you’re together? What’s the plan tomorrow, huh? What are you going to do when people actually talk to you? This isn’t even remotely believable.”

“I know how to act,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you leaned into the challenge. You tilted your head, trying for a smug expression, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably undermined it.

Frankie let out a laugh beside you.

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sure I do,” you retorted, fixing him with a defiant look. “You’ll see tomorrow, Francisco. I’ll be super—”

“You almost shit yourself at the diner the other day, what are you even talking about? I saved you—”

“Oh my God, stop!” Santi cut in, throwing his hands up in a desperate plea for silence. He made a horizontal motion with his hands, like a referee calling a foul. “Stand up. Now.”

“Why?” you asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Just. Stand. Up.” Santi said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, glancing at Frankie as if he might somehow explain what was going on. He was already on his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, like he didn’t particularly want to comply but knew better than to argue.

With a resigned sigh, you rose from your spot, the tension in your shoulders apparent even in the way you stood. The second you moved, Mr.Darcy wasted no time, sliding into the space you’d just vacated.

Santiago leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unnervingly calm. He watched you both like he was observing a particularly amusing experiment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smirk.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone almost conversational. “Kiss each other.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Frankie, equally caught off guard, tilted his head toward Santi. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Kiss,” Santi repeated, his voice louder this time, like he was explaining something to a particularly dense child. He gestured between the two of you. “Frankie, kiss her.”

“Absolutely not,” you said immediately.

“Are you crazy?” Frankie added, shaking his head vehemently, his face scrunching up like the very idea was offensive.

Santiago raised his eyebrows, his calm demeanor giving way to something more pointed.

“What, you didn’t think this through? How the fuck are you planning to convince anyone you’re dating if you can’t even manage a little kiss?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your brain struggling to process the absurdity of what he was suggesting. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frankie’s jaw tighten, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Santi seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. There was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes, his gaze darting between you and Frankie like he was watching the climax of a particularly entertaining play.

He was savoring this—your awkwardness, your obvious discomfort. To him, this wasn’t just funny; it was justice. A kind of poetic payback for the years of chaos and petty feuding you and Frankie had inflicted on him. The sheer satisfaction on his face was infuriating, but also, somehow, undeniably deserved.

“Well?” he prompted, raising his hands in mock encouragement. “Go on, lovebirds. Show me how convincing this great plan of yours is.”

You glanced at Frankie, hoping for some sign he was going to end this absurdity. But he wasn’t looking at you, or at Santiago, or even at the floor like a normal person. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip like he was physically restraining himself from speaking. His hands rested on his hips, fingers tapping idly against his belt, while his foot shifted incessantly, a nervous rhythm you couldn’t unhear.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Is this fun for you?” you asked Santi, your voice sharp enough to cut through his amusement.

He barely suppressed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gave a little shrug.

“Of course it is. Look at you two. You can’t even conceive of the idea of a teeny, tiny, innocent little kiss.” He paused, his expression shifting into something mockingly thoughtful. “You know, Fish,” he added, turning his attention to Frankie, “your mom invited me to her birthday tomorrow.”

That got Frankie’s attention. His head snapped toward Santiago, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“It’s a shame,” Santi continued, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated regret. “But I can’t go. I’d love to see the two of you embarrass yourselves in front of an audience. That would’ve been a real treat.”

Frankie clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. “Come on, man, don’t start.”

But before Santiago could respond, you interrupted.

“Kiss me,” you said, turning to Frankie with a tone that was less a request and more a threat.

Santiago let out a breathy laugh, stifling the full force of his amusement but not entirely succeeding.

Frankie looked at you like you’d just suggested a double homicide, his brows lifting high enough to crease his forehead.

“Come on,” you repeated, stepping closer to him. You let your arms drop to your sides in what you hoped was a disarming gesture, but Frankie didn’t budge. His expression didn’t soften, either—in fact, it somehow got worse. He was looking at you like you’d offered him a plate of raw sewage.

“Come on, Fish,” Santi chimed in, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “One little kiss and that’s it. What’s the big deal?”

You stayed where you were, holding Frankie’s gaze, your jaw tightening as you willed him to just get this over with. But he remained firmly rooted in place, his face still twisted in disgust.

And then something shifted in your chest. It was small at first, but it grew quickly—an anger, sharp and undeniable. What the hell was wrong with him? Was the idea of kissing you that horrifying? It wasn’t like this was real. It wasn’t like it meant anything.

You snorted, shaking your head as determination overtook you. Without giving it another second of thought, you crossed the space between you in a single, decisive motion.

“Wait, what the fuck are you—” Frankie started, but his words cut off as your hands gripped the sides of his face and your lips crashed against his.

The kiss lasted no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were softer than you’d expected, warm and surprisingly still. Your eyes stayed firmly shut, as if that could somehow make the situation less mortifying.

When you pulled back, it was abrupt, almost violent. You jerked away from him and immediately crossed your arms again, your defenses snapping back into place.

Frankie stood there, completely still, his face frozen in an expression of shock. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes were unfocused, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“It’s not that hard, Francisco,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned away and sat back down on the couch, this time right next to Mr. Darcy. “I’m a woman, not an alien. It’s not so terrible.”

Your brother was staring at you, his expression a mixture of delight and disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing, just taking in the scene like it was the best entertainment he’d had in years. Then, with a wide grin, he walked over to Frankie and delivered a solid punch to his stomach.

Frankie clicked his tongue in annoyance, snapping out of his daze with a low groan.

"I’m already regretting this," he muttered then, his voice low but sharp, as he turned his back to you and Santi. 

“You can’t regret it now,” you called after him, your tone sharper than you meant. It was enough to stop him. He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see his face. He didn’t look angry, not exactly. There was no sharpness, no fire. Just this quiet disappointment.

“A deal’s a deal,” you said. "You were the one who insisted. Or have you forgotten that already?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground. “Of course not. I just—” He paused, rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t think it through.”

From his spot against the wall, Santi let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he watched the exchange unfold like it was a show he’d seen before.

“Yeah we did,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “The issue isn’t that. The issue is you chickening out. You were fine until Santi showed up.”

“Oh, now it’s my fault again?” Santi asked.

You shrugged, noncommittal.

“Okay, well,” Santi said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Do what you want. It’s none of my business. Just—” he gestured vaguely, like he was brushing something away, “be a grown-up about it. And don’t screw it up, yeah? Because, honestly, of the three of us, I’m the one who has to deal with your shit.”

“We won’t cause trouble,” Frankie said, his voice quieter now but clear. He glanced at you, then at his best friend. “You have my word. I’ll keep it together. I'll be respectful. No bullshit. I promise.”

Santi nodded, his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. He reached out and clapped Frankie on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sure, man. I trust you. Just—” He laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Don’t be such a child.”

He turned to you then, something knowing in his gaze, before looking back at Frankie. His laugh came deeper this time, warm and unguarded.

“Oh, I know exactly how this is going to end,” he said, shaking his head.

He didn’t stay much longer, mentioning something about dinner plans with Yovanna and promising to call tomorrow. The air felt lighter as he left, like he’d taken the weight of the moment with him, leaving only the two of you standing in its wake.

A few moment later, Frankie was ready to go too, or at least he looked like he was. He sat across from you now, his posture relaxed in a way that felt calculated, like he was trying to project a calm he didn’t entirely feel. Your cat, utterly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, rubbed insistently up and down his leg, purring loud enough to fill the silence. Frankie absentmindedly ran his fingers along his fur, the gesture soft, almost tender.

From where you sat on the opposite end of the couch, you shifted slightly, trying to tread carefully. Your voice, when it came out, was low, calculated even—an attempt not to poke at the fragile truce that had settled between you.

"You know Santi’s right, don’t you?" you asked, watching as Frankie’s head lifted immediately, his gaze locking onto yours. "I mean, I don’t know how you are with your actual girlfriends—if you’re, like, affectionate, or into, you know, public displays of affection or whatever. But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to get over it."

"I don’t have anything to get over. We just need to stick to the basics."

"Aha, the basics," you echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Sure, okay. But you couldn’t even kiss me without looking like it was physically painful."

"That’s not fair. You caught me off guard, that’s all. The context was weird. Santi was watching—it threw me off." He shook his head, his discomfort practically radiating off of him.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you let out a short laugh, the sound more exasperated than amused.

"Your whole family is going to be watching tomorrow."

You stood abruptly, the movement carrying your frustration with it, and crossed the room in a few quick steps. You didn’t look back as you walked into the open kitchen, heading straight for the sink and grabbing a glass from the counter. The sound of water filling the glass was the only noise for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

Frankie didn’t say anything right away. When you turned around, your glass now empty in your hand, he was still in the living room, his focus firmly on your cat. He scratched behind his ears like he hadn’t just been called out, like he could stay there indefinitely and avoid the conversation entirely.

But then he stood, moving toward you with an unhurried calm that didn’t quite match the unease in his eyes. He stopped a few feet from you, leaning one hip against the kitchen island as if he needed something to ground himself.

"Your mother," you said, setting the glass down on the counter with more force than you intended, "your sisters, your aunts and uncles, your mom’s friends—they’re all going to be watching."

Frankie sighed. "It’s different." 

"Different how?"

"Because Santi’s my best friend. And you’re his sister. It was weird."

"And this is all fake, Francisco," you said, gesturing vaguely with your hand, like you were pointing out something so glaringly obvious it hardly needed to be said. "How old are you again? Forty?"

"Thirty-five," he replied, deadpan.

"Right. Almost forty. And you can’t do something as simple as kiss a woman. Yes, I’m your best friend’s sister. Yes, you clearly dislike me. And yes, I clearly dislike you too. But it’s just a kiss," you said, your tone sharp, cutting. Like you were explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly slow child. "A fucking—"

The word caught in your throat mid-sentence, stolen by the sudden, startling pressure of Frankie’s hands on your face.

Before you could react—before you could even think—he was there. Close, impossibly close, his fingers firm but steady as they cupped your jaw, his palms warm against your skin. His eyes barely met yours before his mouth was on yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that one unexpected point of contact.

His lips moved against yours with a precision that felt calculated, like he wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t holding back either. They parted yours gently, and his breath mingled with yours, each second stretching into something that felt far longer.

Three seconds. Four, maybe five. It was enough for you to notice, to feel how his thumb brushed against the side of your face, to register the faint scent of his cologne. Enough for it to completely throw you.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

He released you, stepping back without ceremony. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you from his full height, his expression unreadable. Then he clicked his tongue, a sound so small but so maddeningly smug it made your blood simmer.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You were rooted to the spot, your thoughts a scrambled mess as you tried to catch up with what had just happened. Your breathing was uneven now, a shallow rhythm you couldn’t quite control.

Frankie turned away, shaking his head slowly as if he were frustrated—with you, with himself, with the entire situation. His hands flexed at his sides, his gaze fixed on the floor.

When he finally looked back up at you, his scowl was sharp enough to cut. There was something accusatory in the way his eyes narrowed, as if he were blaming you for... what? Letting him kiss you? Letting him prove a point?

“I can do that, no problem,” Frankie said, his voice dripping with confidence, his expression so self-assured it almost felt rehearsed. He stood tall, chest slightly puffed, radiating an air of someone entirely too pleased with himself. “Stop being so fucking insufferable all the time, and maybe this whole thing would be easier.”

The words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to hit back, to say something sharp and cutting that would wipe that smug look off his face. Insult him, rattle him—anything to remind him that if this situation was unbearable, it wasn’t because of you alone.

But no words came.

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t force yourself to speak. It wasn’t just that you were angry—though you were. It was that he was watching you now, not with his usual indifference but with something sharper, something closer to scrutiny. Like he was waiting for your reaction, ready to pounce on it, to use it against you.

Frankie leaned back against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, it felt like the room itself had shrunk, like the air had turned heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was uncomfortable in a way it had never been before.

You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness, and forced yourself to meet his eyes.

"Thank God you’re not my real boyfriend," you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. You tilted your head, letting a sly smile curve your lips as you arched a single eyebrow. "I’d rather kiss a toad."

The corner of Frankie’s mouth twitched, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush off your jab entirely. But then he let out a quiet laugh, one he didn’t even try to hide, his expression softening into something teasing.

"You’ve got a lot of experience with those, don’t you?" 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft, incredulous snort. Your gaze drifted to the empty glass of water sitting on the counter, the condensation forming a faint ring beneath it. You should’ve said something else, something sharp to cut through the tension still lingering in the air, but you didn’t.

Frankie straightened up, peeling himself away from where he’d been leaning against the kitchen island. He stretched slightly, his movements unhurried, one hand brushing absently over his stomach like he was just waking up from a nap. Then he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around something—his keys, you realized—as if confirming they were still there.

He turned without a word and walked over to the couch, where Mr. Darcy had curled up in his usual spot. Frankie gave the cat a quick pat on the head, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, then straightened again. When he turned back to you, there was something almost playful in his expression, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow," he said, his voice casual but firm, like it was already decided. "Don’t keep me waiting."

You blinked at him, disbelief washing over your face. From your spot leaning against the counter, you tilted your head slightly, trying to gauge if he was serious—or if he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"Or what?" you shot back, your voice dripping with mockery. "You’re going to leave without me?"

Frankie paused at your door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I’ll come up and get you," he said, his tone low and almost threatening.

Before you could reply, he pulled the door open, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door with a gesture that felt vaguely theatrical.

You stood there for a moment, motionless, your eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. It was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

Then a sharp, high-pitched meow broke through your thoughts.

You glanced down to see Mr. Darcy padding toward you, his tail held high like a little banner, the picture of feline confidence. He stopped just short of your feet, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. The kind of look that demanded attention.

“Oh, so now you’re coming back to me?” you asked, crouching down to run your fingers over the soft fur on his head. He tilted his chin upward, leaning into the touch like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fawning over Frankie.

"Of course, you traitor," you muttered, scratching behind his ears. "Now that he’s gone, you’ve suddenly remembered I exist."

Mr. Darcy purred in response, his tail curling slightly as he rubbed against your hand, but you snorted softly, the sound carrying a faint edge of betrayal.

"You’re lucky I love you," you said, your voice low, almost conspiratorial. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten how easily you switched sides. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you just yet."

He blinked at you, unbothered, and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. Still crouched, you rested your elbow on your knee, glancing toward the closed door where Frankie had disappeared. 

Mr. Darcy meowed again, drawing your attention back, as if reminding you of where your loyalty should lie. For now, you decided, he was forgiven. Just barely.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (some tags aren't working apparently sorry!)

[iamsebastiansstan]

like one of your girls - NAC x fem!reader

summary - “Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in.

wc - 6k - MINORS DNI !

warnings - lots of dirty talk as always, crying during sex, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f), creampie, aftercare 🥹

A/N - I dedicate this chapter to @hoffmansgirl because he's literally doing it rn girl like literally !!! anyways, this update was fast but I probably won't be writing much for the next few weeks, I GOTTA STUDY lmao come tell me what you thought of this, any and all feedback is appreciated <3 enjoy!

taglist - @blackynsupremacy / @lalavenderangel / @nicholaschavezbby /

PART 1

Waking up next to him is like a dream she never wants to wake up from. She’s watching him as his eyelids flutter open, his nose scrunches up, as he stretches his strong arms above his head and groans adorably while looking at her through squinted eyes. 

“You been awake long?” he asks her, and she shakes her head no. 

He’d spooned her last night, she remembers, they both needed that closeness without crossing too many lines, and already she’s feeling withdrawals, missing having his body heat along her back. It isn’t awkward now, but the tension can definitely be felt in the air.

“Good. When do you need to get back to New York?”

She thinks about it for a minute, heart beating fast. Is he asking to be polite or is he asking so they can make plans to see each other? She hopes to God it’s the latter.

“On Wednesday. I made plans with some friends to hang out while I’m still here.”

He hums, scratches the back of his shoulder. 

“Wanna give me your number? I’d quite like to see you again.”

Trying hard to keep her screaming internal, she reaches over to the bedside table and hands him her phone, watching as his nimble fingers type in his digits before pressing the call button. 

“Think my phone’s dead but the call should’ve gone through. Now we can text each other.”

She smiles warmly. “I’d like that.” 

They don’t keep their eyes off each other as they get dressed, him slipping into last night’s clothes and her into some fresh ones, and she can feel the want for him pool deep in her stomach, bitter at everything they didn’t get to experience yesterday, glad about what they did get to do.

“Hey, just one second, (Y/N),” he stops her as she’s about to leave the room and she turns, looks up at him when he steps close. “I’m gonna take the advice you gave me yesterday, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re a second option, a rebound, anything like that. I enjoyed yesterday immensely.” 

Her heart flutters at his consideration, but she only smiles and puts a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin softly. 

“I’m not here to make your life more complicated than it needs to be, Nicholas,” she assures and means it. “I enjoyed it too, and I’d love to see you again if possible. If not, then no hard feelings. We can be honest with each other. Friends get to do that, no?”

His nod is slow, the relief basically radiating off of him as he grabs her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles before opening the door for her, following her out.

Nicholas doesn’t stay for breakfast, but he kisses Cooper’s cheek and thanks him, hugs her with a quiet promise to text her, and soon enough she’s perched on a bar stool at Cooper’s kitchen island, spooning cereal into her mouth and doing her best to dodge his suspicious looks.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says through a mouthful.

“Not looking at you like anything.” 

She levels him with a look, unimpressed.

“Ask what you want to ask or shut up entirely, Coop.” 

A slow smile spreads across his face, seemingly shy but his blazing eyes betray him as he asks, “Did you fuck him?”

She expected this, so she answers calmly. 

“No.”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

The question makes her stop for a moment, unsure how much she’s allowed to say.

“I think you know why. Are you mad?” 

He rolls his eyes, takes her hand in his.

“No, of course not. I’d be happy for both of you. But I know that you’re both,” he shoots her a meaningful look that she expertly ignores, “in a rough place in life right now, and I’d hate to see you take it out on each other.” 

She nods, understanding where he’s coming from.

“Is Nick going to get the same speech?” she asks, only half joking.

“A much stricter one, I can tell ya that!” 

She laughs as she gets up along with him to clean the mess from their breakfast up before she goes to meet with her aforementioned friends, heart fluttering the entire time at the prospect of Nick messaging her. 

*** 

She’s sitting in the park and sipping on her smoothie when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. Tuning out her friends’ laughter for a minute, she takes it out to see that it’s from Nick, making excitement bubble up in her chest. She opens it immediately, not expecting anything, when suddenly the words make her want to choke on her own spit.

not to be too forward but I just made myself come to the thought of how tight your throat would be around me. I’ll be thinking about that for a long while.

Two seconds later:

hope you’re having a wonderful day. 

Trying not to seem like the mess he’s turned her into within seconds, she does her best to fight off the mental image his message is creating in her mind and reply somewhat coherently. 

You’re a fucking dickhead, do you know that? I’m out and about and now I’m dripping. Thanks for nothing.

His reply doesn’t take long, has her taste blood from where she’s gnawing her bottom lip open. 

that’s how I want you baby, all the time. see you soon. 

She’s distracted for the rest of the day but when her friends ask her about it, she chalks it up to her stressful college courses and tight deadlines. Despite the butterflies dancing in her belly, she’s had a nice time, and when she walks into Cooper’s house later, she’s got a beaming smile on her face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” she shouts, taking off her shoes and hanging up her handbag by the door. 

“Honeys, please!” comes Stuart’s voice from the living room and she grins as she walks in, presses a kiss to the tops of their heads. 

“Missed ya at the party yesterday,” she says and plops down on the loveseat across from where they’re cuddled up on the couch. 

Friends is on. She hates that show.

“Yeah, I was sad I couldn’t make it, but Cooper is throwing a pool party tomorrow, so I’ll still get some fun in.” 

She’s surprised at hearing about yet another event, but she’s not complaining. 

“And drinks,” Cooper reminds him helpfully. “Lots of drinks as well.” 

They chat a little, watch a small part of some movie that’s on when Stuart switches the channel, stay up until it’s hard for her to suppress the yawning. Bidding them goodnight, she stands up to go into the guest room when Cooper calls out her name.

“He’ll be there tomorrow,” he lets her know, a kind little smile on his face, and she nods gratefully before ascending the stairs, ready for sleep.

The next morning, she doesn’t overthink it, mainly because she refuses to give up so much power so soon.

It’s just her usual routine; the shaving, the skincare, the comfy bikini, a midi dress over it. No make-up, just her necklace, she refuses to get dolled up for a pool party. From what she knows, it’ll be a much smaller affair than Friday’s party was, and she’s looking forward to it.

“I’ll handle the BBQ, could you just make the salad dressing and carry these out to the patio, (Y/N)?” Cooper asks her, and she obliges gladly.  

They set everything up rather quickly, the guests start arriving soon, and she tries her hardest not to stop in her tracks when she sees Nicholas walk out through the glass doors of the living room, hugging everyone he knows before he spots her. The way he rakes his eyes over her body before settling on her face makes heat creep up her neck, and she knows that it’s got nothing to do with today’s temperature. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greets her, wraps his arms around her to give her a good squeeze.

“Hey, you,” she smiles, inhales his fresh scent, enjoys having him in her arms again. “How have you been?” 

The breath he exhales as he pulls away is deep, it lets her know that things have gone down, but the private smile he gives her makes the oncoming worry in her mind disappear. 

“I’ve been alright so far, I’ll tell you about it later, okay?”

She nods, cheeks warming. “Okay. Come find me.”

She allows herself to be open, truthful in her wants, and he chuckles at that, squeezes her shoulder.

“Always.” 

They don’t sit next to each other during lunch, but they keep glancing over the table and finding each other’s eyes, and every single time it happens, it makes the heat coil tighter in her stomach. He looks fucking good today, ruffled hair and a loose button-down that he keeps open, muscular chest flashing at every turn. At some point he puts his sunglasses on and turns his head straight in her direction, but she can’t tell if she’s being stared at or not, faltering during the conversation she’s trying to have with one of the girls at the party. 

When they’re all full and satiated, they go and find their own things to do: some go to swim a few laps or just cool off in the pool, some go to lounge by the grass and read, some stay at the table and keep drinking and chatting. She decides to walk over to the big tree at the back of the garden, finding a comfortable spot on the outdoor sofa under it and laying down, head comfortably resting on a small pillow. It’s not like she’s hoping he’ll find her there; she knows he is going to come and join her eventually. She just needs a little breather yet again, getting easily overwhelmed in big groups of people.

“And here you are, sneaking off again,” she hears his voice after Lord knows how much time has passed, and she can’t help the slow smile that spreads across her face. 

“My social battery empties quickly,” she starts to explain as she watches him sit down at the end of the outdoor couch, but what she doesn’t expect is for him to grab her legs and drape them over his lap, rubbing up and down one foot lightly.

“D’you mind?” he asks, eyebrow raised. 

“No, ‘s comfortable.” 

They sit in silence like that for a little, just looking at each other, and she can feel a lump grow in her throat. Never has she wanted somebody as badly as him, and the restraint she has to show is otherworldly at this point. 

“What happened, Nicholas?” she dives straight in, direct as always, watches him exhale deeply.

“Well,” he laughs, no humor behind it. “I had that conversation with her yesterday.” 

“Yeah? How’d it go?” she asks, heart in her throat. 

She thinks back on what he told her, that he’s scared to give in to his ex, that he might let her convince him to try one more time, one more moment, one more fuck, and she feels pathetic for how scared she is that he’ll tell her that this is it, it’s over between them before it even started. 

“She took it well. I hate hurting her, I really struggled, but she… she didn’t put up a fight,” he explains, and a wave of relief mixed with guilt washes over her, has her breathe easier. “She knows, I think. We both do.” 

“You still love her, though, don’t you?” she presses, winces when he grabs her foot and digs in, massages at a sore spot.

His smirk tells her he isn’t sorry.

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t mine to have anymore, and I am so okay with that.” 

“Do you feel bad about Friday night?”

He scoffs, pulls her foot up to his mouth and presses a kiss against it, has her gut clenching from the motion, so intimate, so familiar. 

“There’s nothing I’ve felt better about in a while, I’ll be honest.” 

She nods, at a loss for words. Wanting to jump him right here, but cautious considering their surroundings. Wanting to have him but wanting to keep building the tension to see what happens when he snaps. 

It’s hard having a filter in his presence, so she blurts out, “How many more times have you thought about me having you down my throat since you texted me yesterday?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Nicholas chokes and throws his head back, eyes shut as if it’s hurting him to think about it.

“I need to know, Nick.” 

“Last night again… then this morning, as I was getting ready to come here.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Last night before or after you went to see her?” 

His brown eyes are wide when she looks into them, they’re honest and sincere, which is why it hits so much harder when he tells her, “Both.”

“Fuck,” she breathes, sits up and pulls her legs to her chest, needing to collect herself. “You’re a bastard, Nicholas.” 

“I can’t help it,” he smirks, reaches out to lay a hand on her knee but not moving closer. “What about you? Did you have to help yourself out at all?”

She nods dumbly, unable to look away from his face.

“Last night, as well. Three times. I couldn’t sleep without it.” 

A bite to his lips tells her he’s imagining it, thinking about it.

“Did you give yourself any fingers? Or did you only play with your clit?”

“M-my clit, didn’t put anything inside of me.” 

She feels the increase of her pulse, feels the tingle in her core at the way he looks at her, devours her with his gaze.

“Why not, little girl?”

“I want the next thing to fill me to be you, Nicholas,” she confesses, lays herself bare and relishes in the devastation her words cause him, the way his jaw drops, his brows raise. 

It’s safe, she reminds herself, he’s safe. She can be vulnerable with him, can let him throw her against the wall and trust that he’ll pick up the shattered pieces to put her back together. 

“You’re killing me, do you know that? The things I wanna do to you…” he trails off, stares into the distance for a moment. “I’ve never wanted to do them to another person. I don’t even fucking know you.”

“No, but you see me. And I don’t need to know what those things are, Nicholas. I feel them. And I want them, too.” 

A harsh puff of air leaves his nose before he’s leaning back, gazing at her, face resolute.

“Go to the room upstairs and wait for me there, will you?” 

She nods, mind and heart racing, does as she’s told as she gets up on shaky legs, knees nearly buckling. Making sure her walk isn’t too fast as not to rouse suspicion but fast enough to show him that she wants this, so he can see- and he certainly is watching her ass as she’s leaving- that she’s on board with what he’s trying to do.

She meant what she said: she doesn’t need to know, she feels it. 

Arriving in the guest room, she doesn’t know what to do with herself, nerves getting the best of her and leaving her nearly dizzy. She splashes some cold water on her face before cupping her hands and letting the water from the tap fill them, bringing them to her mouth and swallowing mouthfuls before she turns it off. The image that greets her in the mirror is one she hasn’t seen often: a woman delirious with lust, eyes glazed over and cheeks blotchy. 

A sound from the outside makes her dry her face off quickly before stepping out, seeing Nicholas shut and lock the door, eyes dark.

They say nothing as he stands across from her and puts a hand on her cheek, runs his thumb across her lips, smiles when she takes the very tip of it between her teeth and bites down gently.

“You’re a sweet one, aren’t you?” he asks, and she nods as he pushes his finger deeper into her mouth, presses down on her tongue and leaves it there. Her hands find his torso, his chiseled muscles to hold on to lest she loses balance, and she sucks his digit into her mouth deeply, hollows her cheeks as they keep staring at each other. “You’re a good cocksucker as well, though, hm?”

She shrugs cheekily, smiles around his finger when he chuckles. She pulls away, then, kisses the tip of his thumb. 

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you?” 

The way he rolls his eyes playfully is so sexy, takes away some of the suffocating seriousness that has crept into their dynamic without breaking the tension, without diminishing the spark they have. 

Large palms frame her face as he looks at her deeply, anticipation forcing her mouth to open in a gasp, and that’s when he takes his chance, claims her mouth in a kiss so sensual that it has her moaning into his lips. It doesn’t take long for his tongue to find hers and he licks at her muscle, lets her in and deepens the kiss, makes it dirty but so full of lust and devotion that she can’t help but stand on her tippy toes to chase after that sensation. 

His hand finds her throat, grips it lightly yet makes her feel breathless, a dirty chuckle against her lips breaking their moment.

“You’ll let me in there, won’t you, baby?” he rasps, drives his finger down the front of her throat. “All the way inside?” 

She nods, stupid with want. “Yes, please let me. I need to taste you, Nicholas, fuck.” 

He kisses her again, then, toying with her mouth as his hands unzip her dress, pull it off her body, leaving her in only her bikini.

“Kneel in front of the bed, with your back facing it,” he instructs, burying his head in her neck and nibbling lightly, grinning at her gasp.

She does as she’s told, has little control over it, kneels obediently and looks up at him with a wet pout on her lips. Remembering what he told her last time, that no woman could ever take his cock down here throat, believing him. Despite its length, what probably causes trouble is the veiny thickness of it, the very thing that makes cunts drip for him being the reason for locked jaws and hurting lips.

The walk over to her is deliberately slow, he’s letting her stew in her desire for him, but she can’t even complain, not when she gets to observe even his most miniscule movements uninterrupted. The first thing she does when he’s right there is fall forward and bury her face in his crotch, over the material of his linen shorts, inhaling deeply. His clothes smell clean but there’s a musky undertone, something so distinctly man that it has her mouth watering.

“Shhh, there you go, get your fill,” he whispers, drives his hands through her hair and she’s so grateful he’s letting her express her desperation how she needs to. 

The balance of her body barely allows her to get up on her knees, but she manages, presses open mouthed kisses along his torso, as far up as she can reach. She licks into his navel, kisses down his happy trail, moans as she traces her tongue along the waistband of his briefs.

“Fuck, I’m so hungry for it,” she breathes, “please give it to me, I need it so bad.” 

Nicholas chuckles, a sound that hits her right in the chest, and untangles the strings of his pants. She’s glad he’s decided to take his shorts off completely, wrapping her hands around his thighs as soon as he’s stepped out of them and mouthing at his hard cock through his briefs, tongue tasting a salty wet spot and groaning into it.

“Jesus, (Y/N), you’re like a woman possessed,” he growls, all pride and no disgust, and it spurs her on to reach up and pull his cock out, get his underwear out of the way so she can really revel in everything his manhood has to give.

He discards his shirt as well, then, and there he is: her personal Greek God in all his glory, naked flesh for her to devour. 

A tear makes its way down her cheek and she’s done with waiting, needs for him to own her. 

“Please,” she breathes and smiles wickedly as he grabs his cock, pumps it once, twice before holding it by the base and- 

And slapping it across her face, the hit harder than she anticipated, making her cry out with nasty hunger.

“Again,” she begs, and he obeys with a wide-eyed stare, slaps her one more time, two more times before hooking his thumb in her mouth and pulling it open, praising her when she automatically sticks her tongue out.

Nick traces the leaking head of his cock over her tongue, and she could cry when the salt hits her tastebuds, the warmth of his flesh mixing with the wetness on her muscle.

“This is what you were made for, baby,” he says, praises her, talks as if he’s far away. “You’re so fucking beautiful, just waiting for me to ruin you, huh?” She nods her head before shaking it, making sure his precome coats all of her tongue, moans when he orders, “Suck this cock, sweetheart.” 

Not needing to be told twice, she engulfs the thick tip in her mouth, sucks on it as she moves her tongue down to coat his length in spit, to ease the way, to make it easier for him to claim the depths of her throat.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he curses above her, hands not ceasing their movement in her hair, and she sees it as motivation to keep going. The louder he is, the louder she wants him.

Some men like a mix between a willing mouth and two skilled hands, she knows, but today she wants to show him just how hungry she’s been for his cock since she met him, so she works her lips around him, determined to not need her hands for this. She sinks deeper and deeper, lets the accumulated spit from her mouth coat him, doesn’t mind the strings of it escaping and dripping down her chin, makes sure she keeps her eyes wide and on him as he’s struggling not to squeeze his shut.

“Halfway there, baby, you’re so fucking good f’me,” he moans, “Messy little girl, just like that.”

She lays her tongue out and takes a deep breath before pushing down stubbornly, eyes screwing up as he goes deeper and deeper, watching his slack jaw and wide eyes marveling at something he’s always wished to experience but never could, not with the women he’d been with before. Relaxing her throat and feeling him push through that last bit of resistance as she fights against her gag reflex, fights to keep it deep within her chest, fights through the pain it brings her not to openly cough at the intrusion in her body. She can’t stand it, not for long, and she has to pull away with a chest-wracking cough, trying to collect herself but delirious with the need to prove her devotion to him.

“Baby, that was amazing, just-“

“Fuck my throat, Nicholas,” she rasps through the tears, gets in position again and takes his cock in hand this time, jerks him a little until she gets herself under control again.

“(Y/N), are you sure? Once I start, I won’t be stopping until you give me a signal, no matter how much you cry, okay?”

Jesus Christ. She nods, determined. 

“I’ll tap your thigh twice if I need you to really stop, okay?” 

He bends down and kisses her deeply, wipes at the tears on her cheeks.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers before straightening back up, gripping her by the hair and growling, “now open that fuckin’ throat for me.”

It’s animalistic, the way he takes her mouth, pushes his cock deep and keeps snapping his hips up, moaning loudly as she chokes, as she holds onto her own thighs just to have something to grip while he uses her. Inch by inch he fucks himself deep, groans her name, “My good girl, that’s right, show ‘em how it’s done,” knowing exactly how to spur her on, how to give her the strength to fight through her body’s struggles.

She’s gargling out spit, face wet and messy, when he finally, fucking finally manages to bottom out, bury her nose in his trimmed pubic hair, almost doubling over when she then sticks her tongue out until the back of her throat starts burning to lap at his balls with the tip of it, just to show him that there’s nothing stopping her from satisfying the hunger she has for him. 

“Ho- oh my fucking- ugh,” he moans, the tightness of her sending him into overdrive, the way her choking and swallowing around his cock stimulates his sensitive head making tears spring to his eyes. 

He grabs her by the hair and rips her back roughly, letting her breathe heavy for a minute before diving down to claim her lips in a bruising kiss, in awe at this woman kneeling in front of him.

“Fuck, that felt good,” she laughs manically against his mouth, tears and snot dripping from her face, but they don’t care, they’re reveling in the way they can mess each other up.

“You okay, baby? Your voice is fucked,” he smiles as she nods eagerly, clearing her throat.

“More, please, fuck my face just a little more,” she begs, watching his eyes widen at her request, but she doesn’t care. Now that she’s gotten a taste, she wants more. 

One hand in her hair and the other one on her jaw, he pushes between her lips again, keeps pushing until he’s in all the way and pulls her off again, watching her splutter and cough for a second before reeling her in again. Nicholas seems to enjoy that, watching her struggle with her throat full, struggle to catch her breath after, but whenever her eyes meet his in a silent plea, she sees the fire in his gaze burn that much brighter before he goes in to fuck her face again.

“No more,” he pants, grabs her by the arms and pulls her into a standing position, steadying her as her legs give out from having knelt for so long. “Fuck, I almost came down your throat.”

“Why didn’t you?” she pouts, face a total mess but causing him to smile at her warmly regardless.

“Don’ wanna, wanna shoot my load inside of you,” he mutters, makes her cheeks heat up.

“Next time, though?”

He laughs, kisses her swollen mouth.

“Promise, baby.”

Nick makes quick work of her bikini and gets her naked and sprawled across the bed in record time, writhing under his heated gaze as he just stands here, cock hard and dripping with her spit, watching her.

“Spread your legs for me,” he instructs, eyes raking over her form, and with a shy bite to her lip she obliges, parts her legs and lets him look at where she’s sloppy wet for him. 

“Need you so bad, I’m all swollen,” she whines, watches as he positions himself between her legs, kisses along her stomach up to her tits.

The first nipple he takes into his hot mouth gets a quick bite shortly after, making her hiss, before he moves over to the second, giving it attention while she rakes her hands through his hair, lost in sensation.

It’s all she’s ever wanted and more, the fucked-out state of arousal that has her mind feeling honey sticky and slow, completely out of her own body. She focuses on his weight on top of her, the way his spit on her nipples paired with the cool air in the room gives her gooseflesh, and soon enough she’s whimpering as he trails his kisses in the direction of her center.

“Finally getting a taste of this gorgeous cunt, been thinking about it,” he murmurs against her mound, looks right at her as he says, “Gonna kiss you where I’m gonna fuck you, my sweet,” before he dives right in, licks her in broad stripes and has her throwing her head back in ecstasy.

All the blood rushes to her center and despite not even having been touched properly, the tension burns, makes her clit tingle where it’s being loved on by his clever tongue, and she can’t help but bury her hands in his hair and push her hips up into his awaiting mouth. Nicholas eats pussy like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever had, like it melts on his tongue, the way he pushes between her inner lips and slurps at the very source of her arousal. By now he knows how much she loves the attention on her little nub, so he sucks it into his mouth, taps his tongue against it until she’s arching off the bed, only being held down by his bulging arms. 

“N-Nick, fuck, fuck no-,“ she’s trying to push him off, the buildup of her climax making every limb tingle, but he holds on, holds her steady until she’s crying, begging, “please, let me come for you, please, please, pl- fuck-“

A hum of confirmation, the vibration of it hitting her core, is all it takes before she’s coming hard, pulling his head closer and trying to bat him away at the same time, and the minute her high decreases and her muscles relax he’s on her, kissing her lax mouth, pushing his tongue deep and letting her taste her pussy on his sinful lips. 

“Y’taste sweeter than I could’ve imagined,” he’s breathing hard against her mouth, “sweetest pussy just for me to take, ain’t it? Fuck, I need to be inside of you.”

The “Please,” punches out of her, already wrapping her legs around his torso so he’d slip in easier, giving him all the access and shouting into his shoulder as he slides his cock into her in one go, fills her up until she can feel him in her lungs. She pushes at his chest so he’d pull away, look at her, grabs him by the face and hisses “What the fuck are you, who the fuck- what are you doing t- to me?”

Nicholas’ laugh is amazed, top lip curled over his perfect teeth as he focuses on drilling into her hard, watching her lose her mind under him, watching her give herself over to him without a care in the world. He angles his hips just so, pelvic bone brushing against her clit with every thrust, making her see stars.

“You’ll come for me like this,” he promises, voice shot, “you’re so gorgeous, fuck. Look at you, can’t believe you’ll come for me again, I’ve got you-“

“Nick, please,” she cries, terrified of what her mind is making her body do, “I can’t-“

“You can and you will,” he snaps, grabs her by the face and pulls her close, kisses her pouting mouth. “Come for me, (Y/N), I wanna see you lose it.” 

She doesn’t pass out this time but she kind of wishes she did, because the groans and moans and pathetic whimpers that rip out of deep within her are sounds she’s never going to unhear now. If it were with anyone else, she’d be mortified, but he just talks her through it with pride in his voice as if she were his girl, his to coach and use and fuck and lo-

But isn’t she? She sure feels like it. 

“Atta fuckin’ girl, that’s right, oh I’m gonna come, baby-“

“Fill me up,” she whispers, lax now, letting herself be used and moved like a rag doll, “I wanna feel you dripping out of my pussy for days.”

“Oh shit, (Y/N)-“ and that does it for him, apparently, as he pushes in impossibly deep and spills inside of her, moaning into her neck and holding her close, filling her body and mind and heart, and dear God, she’s a fucking goner. 

The room smells like their sex, like musk, heady and dazed, makes her head spin where she’s laying under him and wondering what the actual fuck just happened. Nicholas’ breathing is labored but he’s still pressing lazy kisses against her temple, arms still around her spent body.

After a moment, he peers down at her. 

“You okay, baby?” he whispers, like the atmosphere is something fragile.

She doesn’t trust her voice, so she just nods.

“Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head no.

He chuckles deeply, leans down to kiss her mouth and she can’t do much more than to let herself be kissed, can’t reciprocate.

“Talk to me, love, c’mon,” he requests gently, and when she hears that little nickname, hears the care in his voice, her lip starts wobbling and her tears start running freely down her cheeks. “Oh, baby,” he soothes, lets her cry in his arms, holds her through it.

She’s heard of people crying after sex, especially after intense sex, but it has never happened to her. Laying here, though, on these ruined sheets, face and body and her fucking insides sticky with him, after having been used so mercilessly and still having him hold her like she’s something precious, talk to her like she’s something to be cherished? She can’t take it, the turmoil of the last few days, the last few weeks, paired with the experience of his mere existence sending her into overdrive. 

“Let it out, I’m here f’you,” he whispers, shushes her, kisses her head, and soon enough she runs out of tears, only sniffles where she’s hiding in his neck. 

Nicholas pulls away, props himself up on one elbow as his other hand keeps stroking her hair, her face, anything he can reach. He’s got a small smile playing on his full lips as he looks at her, and she smiles back, exhausted but satiated.

“’m sorry for this,” she croaks, voice barely there.

Before she can say anything else, he interrupts her, shushes her with his thumb on her lips. “Please don’t,” he says, eyes kind, “I’m so honored that you trust me enough to fall apart like this. Seriously, (Y/N), this is not a small deal.” 

She clicks her tongue, eyes welling up with tears again.

“I know,” she whimpers, takes his hand in hers and kisses it. “I know it isn’t, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with this. I- Nicholas… What the fuck?” 

He brings her to his chest, holds her close, kisses the crown of her head.

“None of that now, baby,” he whispers, “Now I gotta give you some good aftercare and then we’ll clean up, okay? We can talk later, when we’re both in our right minds. That sound good?”

She nods, says, “I don’t wanna go back to the party,” but it’s muffled against his full chest. 

He hears her anyways.

“We don’t have to; we’ll just stay here." 

Cleaning up is a quiet affair, they keep each other close at all times, standing under the shower together and just washing each other, hands trailing across the other with no intent to take it further. It’s intimate, it’s connecting, and it’s exactly what she needs to come down from the rollercoaster he’s put her through. Nicholas rummages through the closets on that floor until he finds clean sheets and changes them while she stands next to the bed, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, watching with a small smile as he wrestles with the fitted sheet.

“Too many workouts today,” he grumbles as he pulls it over the corners of the bed, “I haven’t consumed enough calories today for this level of exercise.” 

She giggles at his silliness before she lets herself fall onto the bed, holding her arms open for him to crawl in, settling his head on her boobs.

“Naked cuddling is my favorite,” she whispers to him conspiratorially and he nods eagerly, agreeing.

“Same, don’t nearly do it often enough.”

She’s ready for a nap, she realizes as she lets her eyes fall shut, and soon enough she’s slipping away softly, clutching him tightly.  

Unsure if she's dreaming or not, she hears a soft, "I've got you, my sweet. Always got you."

[dokidokidraft]

Sub JJK Men Hcs

A/n: Im sry about kinktober guys, hcs are just easier to write rn. Plus, I’ve had this in my drafts for a while.(since August…)

⇨Masterlist⇦

Warnings: smut, nsfw, the title says it all. Dom!afab!reader, no pronouns used tho, sub jjk men (separate), overstimulation, edging, dracryphilia, brat taming, bondage/gagging, pegging, and gun play in Toji’s

Includes: Satoru Gojo, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

More in part two, I promise. Request specific characters if you’d like!

꧁Satoru Gojo꧂

This man has 2 moods

#1 is whiny, obedient sub who’s kinda desperate. This only happens when he’s had a tough day at work and need to cool down a little.

#2 is his most common, the brat. Disobedient, cocky, and his ego goes through the roof. Tries to take charge most of the time.

He's super into overstimulation, whether he’s a crying, begging mess, or you need to brat tame him a bit.

The punishment that best works for him is the chastity cage. The pain turns pleasurable for him, but your always so cruel and hide the key. The longest he’s gone is 4 days, before he was begging (full on his knees, tears in his eyes, hands together as if he was praying) for you to take it off.

One of the loudest men on this list. I’m talking moans, whimpers, grunts, whines, the whole damn package.

Even when he’s being bratty, and TRYING to block out the noise, he’s crying out your name like it’s the only word he knows.

Hates edging, so that’s also an optimal punishment for him. Being on the brink of orgasm, teetering off the edge, before you pull him back down to earth is probably the worst feeling ever. (maybe second to the chastity)

Doesn’t like getting spanked or anything like that, but do use his blindfold to tie his wrists to the bed frame, etc.

Super big praise kink, but degradation also makes him moan, even when he tried to convince himself he doesn’t like it.

But oh god, when you ride him. That’s what really gets him going, seeing you bounce on top of him, tits swaying enticingly in front of his face. that's his absolute favourite thing.

Heavy aftercare is needed with this guy. I’m talking bubble bath, chocolates, and at least half an hour of snuggling afterwards.

“I’m NOT begging for you to blow me. I’m the strongest, I don’t beg”

“God, woman! J-just let me cum already! I’ll even let you peg me again just don’t edge me anymore….ple-e-ease…”

꧁Geto Suguru꧂

Not on the bratty side, but not completely submissive either

As long as you’re happy, he’s happy.

One of his biggest kinks is hair pulling, especially if he’s eating you out. Making eye contact and feeling the tug on his scalp while you force your cunt against his face is just heaven for him.

Also loves being edged. Unlike Satoru, he loves to feel the buzz when he gets denied, loves the feeling of you in control.

He doesn’t usually need to be punished, but on the odd occasion when he does, the best option is simply putting him on a sex ban. The chastity doesn’t really sit right with him, but not getting any pussy is definitely torture.

Like it when you tie him up, but make it overdramatic. Give him full-on jewelled handcuffs, and a bright red, shiny ball gag, with a side of fairy lights hung around the bed frame.

Whenever you gag him, he makes sure to be extra loud to entertain you. His muffled moans will be replaying in your head for days.

Speaking of which, you definitely get some noise complaints from the neighbours.

Would much rather be giving you oral, but once your tongue touches the too of his cock I can promise you he whimpers from the tiniest touch 🥺

He will buy a new bed, and make it fucking massive. He wants to try every single position possible, that’s a given.

Has a habit of biting the pillow to muffle his moans <3

“Tying me up again, huh? Don’t you ever get bored of it? Oh, did that earn me the gag yet?”

“Sex ban? You’re joking. You’re fucking joking. Please tell me you’re fucking joking.”

꧁Toji Fushiguro꧂

Submissive? Not at all…until you ride him

He would sell his soul to have you go cowgirl on him for the first time again

Toji likes the chastity cage bc it’s like a challenge for him, seeing how long he can last

If you try to peg him I’d suggest like…writing your loved ones a note :)

Overstimulation is his JAM (for both of you) but it takes fucking forever for him to get a bit overstimulated, this man has a shot ton of stamina.

When you convince him to sub, he can go all night. He’ll just be lazy and take it, whatever you give him, with lots of suggestive comments along the way

Giving him a blow job is the best way to relax him, especially if you have your nails done and use your hand at the base <3

He may or may not secretly love when you step on him, it gets him going like crazy

Hold him at gunpoint and he will be hard as a rock. He taught his girl well, and loves the thought of her overpowering him like that

Car sex. That’s it.

When you guys get really into it his hair will fall in front of his face, and if you gently brush it out of the way he falls in love all over again.

“Wanna suck on it, doll? I promise I won’t force it down your throat like last time, take your time.”

“I heard pineapple makes your cum taste sweet. Think we should try it? I’ll be the lovely taste tester if ya ride me afterwards.”

[spicedcherrylolli]

PitFighter!Vi x Reader Part 1

Reader secretly gets nipples pierced and has been hiding them from Vi.

T.W- Suggestive content, NSFW

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The crowd surrounding the ring was deafening. The cheers and money coming from every bit of your surroundings has you cheering as loud as you can. When you go to watch Vi, their is a primal need to let everyone know, (which they already do) that “She’s my girlfriend!” by cheering and announcing it multiple times. While in Vi’s favourite outfit, because tonight is the night you tell Vi. It has been 5 days since you got your nipples pierced, which is 5 days of no sex, and its wearing you both down.

Vi has been on edge for the past 3 days, training harder, in hopes to ease the constant lust running through her. She is confused for the most part but also wants you to be comfortable, hence her keeping her lustful thoughts to herself, until you want them.

Ding, ding, ding

Vi’s hand gets pulled up indicating her being the winner and you cheer, banging on the fencing surrounding the pit. Looking up, Vi spots you, smiles and winks, before being escorted out, you heading to the changing room. When you arrive, you walk into the room, locking the door and seeing Vi turn to greet you.

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“You did so good Baby.” You quickly walk over to her, “You were insane out there.”

Grabbing your waist to bring you closer Vi takes in your outfit, “ Yeah and you’re like my sweet sweet cheerleader wrapped up all nice,” She moves her finger indicating you to spin, “Just for me huh?”

Blushing as you face your girlfriend again, you nod your head, “Yup, all yours, if you want.” You check her out, grinning. Before you have a chance you say anything else, Vi has one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck pulling you towards her. Your lips collide moving in sync with each other, while your hands are touching all over vi. When she is about to tug your off shirt, you stop her.

“Wait,” Vi’s posture stiffens, while you pull back from the kiss, “I have a surprise for you.” Nervous hands folded in front of you. Looking up at her, you take in her powder blue eyes filled with lust from only a bit of touching.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” She whines, looking almost sad to not be touching you.

“I am sorry I have been distant but I’ve been hiding this from you. I hope you like them.” Grabbing the bottom of your shirt and taking it off to reveal your transparent bra under. Confusion flashed on Vi’s face. “Oh, one sec.” Unclipping the bra you let it fall to the floor.

“Fuck me” She curses under her breath. Moving her hand up to flick the ‘V’ hanging from your piercings. A sharp inhale being forced out of you at the contact. Her eyes filled with lust take you in from head to toe, and you feeling your heartbeat everywhere.

“So this is why I haven’t been wanting to touch too much recently?” Vi looks up at you, sincerity laced in her voice.

“Yes and I’m sorry but, It’s all for you baby,” seductively running your hands up and down her toned arms, “I just needed them to heal.” You explain. Grabbing her hands, you rub them up you abdomen, slowly inching closer to the new piercings. Vi’s eyes following the movement, letting you control the situation.

Liquid heat coursing through you. You needed her. Needed whatever she could give you, post fight. Vi’s expression now dark, dominating, making you want to do anything she could ever need, burn the world for her and for you she would do it in return. You let go of her hands and step closer bridging the gap between you. her hand moves up and then flicks the new piercing again. A gasp and moan surprised out at the contact.

“Oops, did I hurt you baby?” Vi asks in her sarcastic tone, moving the other hand up to do the same to the other. Another gasp escaping you.

“Such a pretty sensitive girl, aren’t you.” as she moves one hand to your throat, forcing eye contact. A whine ripped out of you. "Shh, its okay, I'll take care of you Cupcake." Her other hand moving down your abdomen right above your core.

“Vi please.” you whimper pushing yourself up, so her hand moves lower.

Grabbing your waist, she lifts you in to her arms, legs wrapping around her waist.

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Hi Lovies , this my official second time writing literally anything and I hope you liked it even a little. I am working on a part two that is full smut but since I am new it will take some time.

But thank you for all the love on the last post, that shits crazy. Anyways, luv you byeeeee.

-Cherry 🍒