#but on the good side of things i have started t (no changes yet but i’m one week on gel as of today) and been reading sula by toni morrison

[loonylupinblack3]

Go Slow

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), riding, (brief) dry humping

Summary: it's your first time and Logan tries to go slow, he really does, but some things just can't be helped

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: i'm not too practiced in smut so sorry if it's shit 😭

Logan knew you were on the shy side of things. During the start of your relationship he’d had to coax words from you, feelings and opinions you held until you felt comfortable enough to share them without being asked. You’d be nervous and fidgety when asking to see him, acting like he was an attractive stranger when he was your boyfriend. 

In all honesty though Logan didn’t mind. He enjoyed your shy, almost naive personality, and was more than happy to wait for you to be comfortable with him before suggesting going any further. 

Sure, it was difficult for him to wait, but not impossible. If his pants tightened slightly when you walked in the room with ridiculously short shorts and practically sat in his lap with them, you didn’t notice. When you were sleeping in bed together and would unconsciously rub yourself against him, causing him to have to leave the bed for a bit lest he did something he'd regret, you remained blissfully unaware. And if he was putting away your laundry and came across a pair of lacy black panties with bows adorning it, you wouldn’t even notice they went missing.

Logan was more than okay to wait.

You, on the other hand, were not.

It started with small changes in you and your actions, though Logan couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was. You were more flustered around him than usual, jumpier and shier than you’d been before. You were quieter too, staring at him with more intensity than before, as if trying to read his mind. Yet it wasn’t as if you were pulling away from him, because you were much more touchy and clingy than usual, always needing to hold him and often being the initiator of any make out session you two might have- which is as far as you’d gone.

It was during one of these sessions, having started when you both grew bored of the movie playing on the screen, that you started straddling Logan, kissing him with more fevor than you usually did. Surprised, though certainly not disappointed, Logan kissed you back, hands resting on your thighs and occasionally running up and down them when his control slipped.

When he felt you rock against him slightly he knew something was up. You were never this forward with him, and was always the one to stop Logan when he got a bit carried away. Yet there you were, gently rocking against him while you kissed, moving against his jeans almost desperately, rubbing against him until there was a rock hard bulge for you to move against and Logan had to gently push you off him.

Immediately you started apologising, looking at your hands nervously fidgeting with your t-shirt, refusing to so much as glance at Logan.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright Bub,” Logan said gently. “I just don’t want to do anything before talking about it first.”

You risked a glance at him, trying to find any lie in his face. “You’re not angry at me?”

Logan would have laughed if he wasn’t worried about upsetting you further. “‘Course not. I fucking loved that, actually, but we can’t do it, or anything like that, without talking about it first. I gotta make sure you’re okay with it.”

You nodded your head with such eagerness Logan’s cock twitched in his pants. “I’m okay with it.”

He smiled at your needy demeanour and had to hold himself back from gladly going along with it. “What exactly do you want, Sweetheart? I gotta know that.”

You bit your lips shyly, glancing up at him from your lashes in such a way Logan was tempted to be fucked with all of this and just take you. He’d been waiting for months, however, so he could certainly wait a few more minutes, and restrained himself as such.

“I want to feel good,” you mumbled quietly. “Want you to make me feel good.”

Oh fuck.

Logan wasn’t sure he could handle this. Desire was coursing through his veins, his cock was throbbing almost painfully against his pants as he watched you, shy and naive but so wanting for him.

“Alright Bub, we can do that,” he eventually said, because fuck he wanted to make you feel good too. He wanted you moaning and whimpering his name, whining and panting underneath him because of him.

Yet as soon as he had you undressed and under him he could tell it wasn’t what you wanted. You looked petrified, eyes squeezed shut as you waited for Logan to enter you, and that just wouldn’t do.

“I’m not doing this Sweetheart,” he said, moving away.

You opened your eyes, seeming both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “What? Why?”

Logan sighed, wrapping you up in his arms and kissing your neck. Even with both of you naked it was surprisingly not desire filled and simply comforting. “Because you obviously don’t want it.”

You shook your head and turned around to face him, straddling him in a similar position as before. “I do want it. Just… it felt a bit scary like that.”

Logan thought about her words for a moment before inspiration struck him. “Do you want to ride me instead?”

You actually gasped, your eyes widening at the suggestion, yet he could also see the desire radiating off of you- he could smell it too- and feel the slick coming from your cunt at the thought. He smirked, taking that as a yes.

“I’m going to lift you up and slowly place you down on me. You can stop me at any moment, okay?” he asked you, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with this.

You nodded your head, looking apprehensive but also excited, as you glanced down at his hard on, licking your lips slightly. “I don’t know if it will fit.”

Logan nearly groaned then and there. “It will.”

Hesitant but sure, you let Logan’s hands wrap around your waist and lift you up, positioning his cock at your entrance. He gave you a few seconds to back out, and when you didn’t, staring at him confidently, Logan sunk you down on his cock.

Fuck even just his tip inside you felt like heaven, your cunt squeezing against him. You let out a gasp and he hesitated, waiting, and you slowly nodded your head, giving him the go ahead to continue. He did so gently, making you take him inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to get used to the feeling of him until you’d finally taken all of him inside you.

The feeling of your walls squeezing his cock was heavenly. He could barely think, and all he wanted to do was fuck you hard and fast, chase the release he so desperately wanted. Yet he waited for it to feel comfortable for you, waiting for the pain to ease before he did anything.

“Okay… what now?” you asked in a timid voice.

Logan had to muffle the sound threatening to escape him at the sight of you blinking bashfully at him while he was inside you. It was too good to be true.

“Now you move,” Logan said roughly, because he didn’t trust himself to move and not fuck you viciously like he wanted to.

You thought for a moment before giving an experimental rock, gasping at the pleasure accompanying the action. You repeated the rock again, then again, creating a slow but sure movement that was slowly killing Logan.

Every sway of your hips, the way you rode his cock eagerly if not skillfully, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it baby,” he rasped. “Just like that, you’re doing so good for me baby.”

You rolled your hips, whining at the praise and closing your eyes but only increasing your motions, one hand moving up to cup your breast. You grounded onto him, gasping when he hit that perfect spot, whispering Logan’s name like a prayer

He swore at the sight, and couldn’t help the jerk his hips made, a small gasp escaping you. It felt so good, the spike of pleasure overwhelming and your readily response too much, and he did it again.

You moaned this time, a dirty, high pitched sound that was ringing in Logan’s ears, urging him on as he took your hips in his hand and lifted you up, only to slam you down on his cock again. Your moan was delicious, and you placed both your hands on his chest, moving forward to make him go deeper.

Logan did groan this time, and used your hips to continue moving you on his dick, his large hands squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. You were a whining mess, eyes glazed and body limp above him.

“Feel so good,” Logan grunted, thrusting into you. “So fucking good for me.”

You whimpered, gasping as your eyes fluttered closed again. Logan grinned.

“You like that baby? You like me telling you what a good girl you’re being, riding my cock so prettily.”

Your moans came more frequent, panting every second, and Logan could tell you were close. He increased his pace, wanting to see you fall apart in front of him, and wasn’t disappointed by the result.

“Come on baby, cum for me.”

With a cry you threw your head back, ecstasy painting your face as you came, your walls tightening. The feeling of them squeezing Logan’s dick, your cunt milking it for all its worth was too much and he felt himself fall after you, his load of cum shooting into your already stuffed hole.

“Fuck baby,” he cursed, helping you ride out both your highs, moving your hips over him.

You were still panting as you slowly came down from your high, boneless as you laid against Logan’s chest.

“You did so good for me darling,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You let out a sound, nuzzling his neck, and he happily held you against him, pressing kisses to your face and neck till you were ready to move.

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game. 

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team. 

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder. 

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts. 

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly. 

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation. 

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up. 

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern. 

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned. 

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started. 

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts. 

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms. 

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!? 

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known. 

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious. 

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice. 

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that. 

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

[confused-pyramid]

Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

[hoshigray]

MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

[v1x3n]

R I P P E D A P A R T

john price x reader x 141 ⸝⸝ navigation part one part two part three

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : angst - nightmare mention, hospital setting, scars, depression, neglect.

After being taken to the infirmary, your body had uncontrollably decided to take a long sleep, your dreams full of the terrors your best friends had caused you. Your dreams reminisce on the before, on the time where everything was okay, the time where you had a friend group and your job was going well. But that had to end, didn't it? 

Nothing good could ever happen to you. 

Waking up, you don't even know how long you slept for, you discover your bandages on your body changed. Still bloody but they were fresh material, you were in new clothes - well clothes. Head goes dizzy when you look around the room, taking in everything you could see. The high white walls with no decoration, the window that you could look out from on your so-called bed, the cream curtains that hung but were swept to the side - bringing in bright light from the outdoors. The outdoors, something you hadn't seen in what, a month? You couldn't remember anymore. You felt disoriented, angry yet also sad. You felt every fucking emotion you didnt have time to feel during the attacks, all at once. Eyebrows squeezing together, looking to the side of your sheets, a small wooden chair was placed there. After gulping you peek at the table next to your bed, there was also a sink in the corner. Usual hospital room, tv and two doors, one leading out into the hallways and one to a bathroom. And that was that. 

There was one thing that made your heart furious though, an arrangement of colourful flowers, wrapped in a light pink ribbon sat on the table beside you. Frowning as you peer at the beautiful petals you look away, they ruined you, ruined your body, your life and all they give you is fucking flowers? You knew it was one of them, you had not built that much of a relationship with anyone else and they were your favourite flowers. Only the 141 knew your favourites, cheap fucking way of saying sorry. You hadn't even heard the words come out from any of their mouths yet, fucking pathetic. enraged, angry, furious and irritated were only some of the words you were feeling. 

Soon it had been a week, lay in that stupid fucking room. At Least you had met a few people, you met a few nurses who came by to feed you, check up on you and help your wounds. And you had met a patient in the room next to yours, he was sweet towards you, you never spoke to him though. He did most of the talking, his name was Logan and honestly in the week you had known him for - he was growing on you. He came by everyday, he was very nosy though, very extroverted. Luckily he never demanded answers from you, he always spoke, sometimes you would reply with a shrug or a small nod. You couldn't tell if he had heard about what happened to you though, he never touched you and he was always so gentle, dunno. Maybe he was just nice.

Scars were left all over your form, a healing cut on your cheek that wouldn't take that long to fix - just a very quick and painful stitch up!, your legs just starting to become responsive, rope marks dug in your skin from how tightly they displayed you on that cold pole. 

Drugged up on antibiotics wasn't the best feeling, you had a few infected wounds down your body, the one on your lower womb was ugly. It looked diabolical, but luckily you were on many pills so life is okay! Looking down at your hands, the missing fingers was just another example of the pain the four caused you. 

Just when you were about to spew tears from your tear ducts, a light shadow covered you. When did he come in? 

Your captain sat on the wooden chair beside you, he didn't speak, just looked down at his raggy boots. You were glad he didn't speak, but deep down you kind of wanted him too because this was far too awkward. Glaring down at your lap, you refused to speak to him, just as you tried to turn around the door swings open. The nurse you were closest to walks in and sees the two of you. The obvious tension floods the air, flowing out the open door when Jane starts talking, “morning, honey” she smiles and takes slow steps up to you. 

You dont reply. 

“We need t’ get you into the shower” she mumbles to you, peeling off the sheets that covered your battered body. You were ashamed that the nurse had to physically get you up and take you to the shower but your legs just wouldn't cooperate with you. A twisted and healing ankle paired with weak legs and then on top of that the depression that comes along with all of this summed up too being unable to help yourself up. You couldn't do anything for yourself, they tore you limp by limp and now you weren't the strong soldier you were before. All thanks to them. “Okay” a light voice sounds from you through a sigh, almost whispering, not wanting that fucking man next to you get the pleasure of hearing your voice. Letting the nurse help you get out of the bed, Jane looks down at your form, your skin and your trauma.

“Healing well, hm? Did nurse poppy give you your pills this morning?” Jane asks, tilting your head up gently to take a look at the slight slit on your throat. When the man right next to you was about to end your life.

What is the saying? Each scar tells a story but every story leaves a car. Something like that.

Nodding at the nurse's question makes the corners of her lips twerk up into a small yet genuine smile, “good, now let's get you up, hm?” you could almost feel john's eyes burning into you while the nurse helps you get up, your weak limbs drop as you stand on your feet, jane instantly gripping you and jolting you back up, an arm wrapped around you to help you walk. 

You were thankful for the nurses, obviously they knew what had happened and they were nothing but gentle and sweet with you, they never tried to do anything that would trigger you and knew to check up on you, make sure you were eating, drinking, sleeping and things like brushing your teeth and showering. You felt kind of useless. Not  being able to do anything for yourself but it wasn't exactly your fault though was it? 

Jane took you towards the bathroom and Price still just kind of sat there, in your hospital room - staring at your bed.

“You can do it yourself, yeah?” Jane helps you sit on the lip of the toilet seat, the bathroom was sterile and white. The smell of bleach attacked your nose, you looked at the shower. The shower head pours down water at a fast pace when the woman in front of you turns the knob around, you almost flinch at the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. “C'mon” she mumbles, taking your arm to help you limp into the shower, as soon as the water hits you - you flinch. Taking in an old memory, instantly you back up to the wall, “i-i can't” you shake, gulping down, staring at the dropping water splattering over the floor. Breath picking up as you breathe in harshly, “i cant - i cant” you repeat as if the nurse hadn't heard you, she quickly leans over to grab the sponge that was placed under the shower head, she places it in your hand, “its okay, honey, don't worry.” jane coos while you shake, “you don't gotta, just scrub yourself down outside the shower, you don't have t’ go in if you can't” 

Thank god for this sweet woman. After nodding she leaves you to your own devices.

Taking a glance at the shower and then down at your sponge, you sigh. How could you let yourself become this pathetic. A panic scares you when you hear sounds coming from outside the bathroom door, a deep voice which was so obviously johns then a softer voice which you would only match it to janes.

“Is she okay?” Jane's ears picked up John's voice, still sitting on the wooden chair but he was facing the bathroom door. “You know they dont want you here” she states, walking past him to clean up your sheets. 

“I needed to see them.” All Jane does is sigh, “they can't see you right now, i understand it's hard but it's harder for her” john looks down at his boots, in  defeat. Closing his eyes and biting his tongue, this was hard for him - it was hard for everyone. 

All of the 141 missed you, missed talking to you, seeing you and missed their relationship with you. No one knew how to go about the situation, nobody knew what to do. How to make it right, how to make it the same as before. They all just thought; they didn't know what else to do, they all thought it was you and the signs pointed to you. 

The job is ugly, it's disgusting, that's what it is.but there's nothing they can do about it, it's all a part of the job.

[idontknowreallyidontcare]

Can I get more horndog Nikto pls? Like Nikto legit wanting the reader every way emotionally and physically, becoming territorial of them, and the reader doesn't take him seriously because they don't wanna be another conquest. Sad horny boi lol

HORNDOG!NIKTO FOR MY NIKTO GIRLS.

- He is jealous, it’s pretty much in his Slavic dna to be, so once you show him a bit of affection without strings attached, he gets territorial. Nikto does a lot of questionable things to ensure the recruits know you’re off limits. From standing really close to you no matter what you’re doing at that moment, to literally pressing himself against your body like a horny dog. The creepiest thing he’s done was probably standing in a corner, intensively watching you read from afar. Recruits would get scared about coming to you for advice because he was there, awkwardly staring and they would get chills (he’s just so silly!).

- The first time Nikto got to know your sweet side was when you made biscuits for the barracks and decided to bring some to him too. He was not the type to hang around the base, so having such sweet little thing like you come and knock on his door with a bag of biscuits was very surprising and suspecting on his side. He found you hot, there was no denying, so having many other instances where you would do something for him without asking anything in exchange was starting to grow onto him. You always brushed it off, how possessive he began to be about you, thinking he was just an awkward adult that didn’t get to learn proper socialization, and well part of that was true. You kept brushing his affections off, he was like that and nothing could change him. You knew he liked women, too much for your own good, and part of you did not want to end up as another conquest.

- Many times he grew frustrated of you, because no matter how many signs he gave, you always seemed to not understand, or maybe not care at all. He would touch you, press himself into you, sweet talk to you, yet all you would do is pat his head and crack a joke, continuing with your duties and leaving him there, by himself, contemplating weather he should just give up and leave you be. And truth is he was close to leave you be many times.

- What he didn’t know was that you kinda felt the same, you always found in Nikto a safe place, from the instance you joined KorTac he was always there, sure he was as hard as a rock at the beginning, but you made your way into the small remains of his cold, broken heart. It started strangely, you’ve seen him alone once, back laid on the side of a small balcony, while his gaze was lost into nothingness. It hit you, how he was never around, he was never with the boys, never made attempts to make friends, and part of you knew he was afraid, afraid of scaring anyone. Truth is recruits always feared him, even if he never gave them a reason to. The only person he would get along with was König, and occasionally you’d see him in Horangi’s or Kreuger’s company. His mask was most of the times on, and you started to pity him. Such a poor, lonely man. God knows the last time he felt the warm touch of a woman, and not the touch you feel when the only thing you do is fuck, because he did not lack intercourse in his life, but the loving touch of a woman genuinely caring about him? That’s a whole different story.

- You started small, afraid of coming off too clingy. You brought him biscuits, you always made sure to carry a bottle of water at practice, knowing he would always drink a lot and would remain without one lot of times. You’d pass him your bottle and he’d thank you, almost shyly if you squint. You’d bring his clothes to his room from the drier, your excuse being that you were already there so why not, you’d cook for him sometimes too, well not really, it was just that you accidentally poured too much of this or too much of that and being alone on the base you didn’t want it to go to waste, excuses on excuses that were always working. You always thought he was a bit too silly to understand what you were actually doing, and you were right. He just thought you were constantly friend zoning him.

- It was difficult once he actually accepted what you were giving to him and he wanted more. Ignoring him when he got too needy, when he was too close, when he made advances and all you could do was joke or excuse yourself to another room. Truth is you were scared too because what has started as a small act of kindness towards a lonely teammate, became a lot more, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

- One particular night brought out all the hidden emotions. Coming from a mission was always the best time of the year, week, month, it was just the best time, not only because you were alive, but because you could finally rest and turn your brain off. Well for Nikto it was a yes no situation, he was happy to be alive but coming at the base where he would be ‘confined’ again due to his loneliness, was not something he was dreadful about. This time was just too much, and after what felt like hours of contemplation he just went for it. A soft knock on your door late into the night awakened you, not that you were particularly deep into sleep, since the arrival time from the mission was not long ago, but it woke you up, and you opened, for some reason finding yourself in front of who you actually expected to come. Nikto stayed still, admiring you for a bit, just for you to grab his hand and pull him into the room. You didn’t care anymore, after almost loosing him this many times of the battlefield the only thing you wanted to do was hug him. And you did, he dreamed about this moment for months, and it came so unexpected yet so sweet. The night was spent between kisses and hugs, late talks between two people that were too afraid to fall asleep because of the fear of this all being a dream.

- Actually labeling your relationship with Nikto changes many dynamics. He gets bolder definitely, he’s more secure and shows off more. Being in a relationship with him is giving him access to your privacy also, and he makes sure he takes advantage of it. He shamelessly ravages your panty drawer, sneaks up on you in the common showers, after gym becomes a gig where you’re trying to run and shower and he’s after you saying how hot you look right now and how you should let him bring you to his room first. Sex is something utterly surprising for you, you would’ve not given him half the credits he actually deserved, because he does know how to please you, and he’s avid with it. He’ll be a dog for you, waiting and begging and pleading until you give it to him.

- Ride his face he LOVES it, just use him as your personal seat and he’s cumming in his pants no lie. He’s a sucker for your pleasure, also a big voyeur, he tried to fuck you many times in the main hall, or in the showers, he once succeeded in the kitchen, and oh boy you could not look into the eyes of some of your female colleagues for a week straight. Nikto is always eager to try something new, that’s because he finally has you, his woman, and prefers to do with you all the things he never got to experience. He always told himself that he’d prefer waiting to do certain things only with the woman of his dreams, and there you were finally, ready to let him fuck you up, or the other way around.

- When I call Nikto a dog is because I mean it. The utter loyalty this man has for you is something straight out some romance movie. You’ll start to notice how his eyes are always on you, no matter the surroundings, no matter the circumstances, and the utterly look of an enamored man he gives you always succeeds to make you weak in the knees. He is avid, lustful, borderline possessive about you, like a feral dog that’s protecting the only thing that he ever got to call ‘his’. And don’t get off the birth control, because he brings to the bedroom each and every ounce of possessiveness he shows outside.

[halemerry]

I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!

I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.

Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.

Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.

Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.

Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.

He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.

Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.

Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.

Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.

We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.

The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.

Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.

Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.

Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.

At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.

Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.

It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.

Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'

Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.

"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.

Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.

Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.

Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.

Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.

The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.

His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.

Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.

Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.

Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.

The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.

He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.

Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.

For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).

The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.

The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.

As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.

So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.

There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.

[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[hyukakisses]

-emo taehyun accidentally knocking you up!

pairings: taehyun x fem reader

plot: random headcanons of taehyun knocking up reader, (vv old re-edited request repost from my old page)

warnings: smut, cursing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), disapproving family (on reader’s side)

“t-too much!” your voice came out in desperate pleas due to feeling overstimulated from taehyun’s brutal assault against your needy pussy

the man above you, taehyun let’s out a deep chuckle, his lips finding your ear as he whispers. “you can take it. i know you can”

“you’re strong baby, aren’t you? my strong girl” the emo boy rasped in attempt to comfort you by encouraging you

your mind was in a daze, you could only think taehyun taehyun taehyun “i-im your strong girl”

taehyun cups your face very much enjoying your response as his thrusts quicken, loud squelching noises echo throughout the room as he can sense you’re about to cum again.

“that’s right you are my strong girl, you’re so brave baby and you can take everything i give you can’t you? my good girl” taehyun kisses you, the kiss needy and desperate as your whines increase. you were too spent to even reply, so you just nod at your boyfriend’s words.

taehyun snickers at your fucked out state, loving how you’d get when you were fucked too dumb to reply back to him. “you’re so good for me baby, taking everything i give you like a perfect little girl.”

his head lowers to the crook of your neck again as he releases the grip on your face, “my good girl. you want to cum don’t you?”

“y-yes” your poor body trembles at the pace of taehyun’s thrusts, he was so close you could feel him budge at your stomach

“you can cum baby” taehyun grants you your release before speaking up again. “but only if i can breed this pretty pussy”

you were too blissed out to remember if you were on the pill or not, so you dumbly nod signaling it was okay immediately cumming around your boyfriend’s member your little legs giving out as you whine in relief.

taehyun could only coo at you, finding how you got after cumming so hard so cute as he releases his white robes deep inside you stilling his movement. his big arm pressing down your tummy budge to calm down your trembling, afraid that his cum would go to waste if you both weren’t still.

“ssh baby just relax, you’re doing so well being good just taking my cum in your pretty pussy” taehyun presses tiny kisses around your face this action calming you down as you melt away into a deep slumber.

taehyun smiles down at your sleeping state, pulling out of your sloppy cunt reaching over for a rag because even if you were asleep taehyun always cleaned you, scooping you into his big strong arms as you lay there defenseless deep into dreamland :(

the next few weeks taehyun has noticed your change in personality, although you were your cute yapping self he’s just noticed you’re more clingy than normal. “d-don’t go don’t go!” you’d let out a shriek as your arms loop around your boyfriend’s neck pulling taehyun into a tight embrace. “baby im just going to the gym i’ll be back in an hour” taehyun sighs “then take me with you!”

taehyun start connecting the dots, you were moody, clingy and your period hasn’t came yet so you definitely had to be pregnant.

taehyun groaned quietly, seeing the notification of an incoming phone call from your father. already assuming the worst since you were always such a daddy’s girl of course you told about your pregnancy, you told him everything.

although you and taehyun now wish you hadn’t, since your pregnancy was the only thing your father could ever talk about

“i can’t believe this!” “what were you thinking?” “you’re both only twenty two give yourselves some time!”

“you really think taehyun is going to help out with the baby? he’s in a rock band for crying out loud and he wears makeup!”

part of taehyun wanted you to get an abortion so he wouldn’t have to deal with your father anymore but anything you wanted to do with the baby taehyun will support even if that meant dealing with your annoying dad ):

a/n: im sorry im a golden star lesbian i don’t know how pregnancy works :( enjoy enjoy!

[vivalabunbun]

A Long Time Coming

Summary: Going back to the place that started it all as a pair different than before.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Modern AU, Childhood Friends AU, Fluff, humor, slight angst, slight dubcon, exhibitionism? kinda? porn with plot, slight yandere alhaitham, mentions of marriage, marriage pressures, pushy family.

Authors Note: This is a small continuation of this basically you take alhaitham back to your parents’ house. I wrote this in a rush to finish it in time for his birthday. Enjoy

Officially becoming a couple with Alhaitham was as if your world had been flipped upside down, yet not a piece of furniture had been knocked over in the event. That is to say, everything and nothing has changed. Your apartment still housed one, the same workplace banters, the same comfortable silence. Yet, on weekends in your bed lays another body. Under the covers, curious hands roam, and in the air lingered the scent of passion. 

However, once the work week started, the two bodies untwine, becoming you and Alhaitham. No one at the office suspected the fresh development between the two of you, not even your new drinking colleagues. Although, Kaveh has noted to you:

“That guy has been walking around much smugger than usual. Like he just completed all the trials of life. Do you think he got a pay increase again?”

The morning after that fateful night while across the kitchen table, there was a firm handshake agreeing to the boundaries of your budding union. Particularly, that under no circumstances shall a certain blond be the first to discover the true nature of this relationship. Once Kaveh knows, then all of Sumeru and Teyvat will know too. Plus, the absolute hysterics he’ll devolve into when he’s the last to know that the two of you were an item will be the show of a lifetime. Great minds think alike after all. 

Right now you and Alhaitham were in his rented car on the way to the first big challenge of your relationship: Meeting your parents. Well, that is a bit misleading, your parents already know Alhaitham, they practically were his secondary guardians, often looking after him when his grandmother was busy. Their eyes watched the pair of you grow up as their wrinkles grew. 

But things have changed, Alhaitham is no longer just the neighbor's grandson and your childhood friend. He was now going to be introduced as the man you are dating. That fact made you jittery the whole drive, nerves bouncing off the corners of your skull, as you held the basket of fruits Alhaitham had bought as a gift to them. 

“The fruits will get bruised if you keep tossing the basket with your legs.” He remarked, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“I can’t help it. I’m nervous, Haitham. I don’t know how you’re so calm.” You consciously made the effort to still your leg.

You glanced over at him, taking a moment to admire his side profile, his face and demeanor stoic as ever. Alhaitham, who usually spent the weekends in his comfortable t-shirts and sweatpants, made the effort to wear a crisp black button-down and tailored slacks. You also observed the extra effort he had put into his hair today. 

“Simple. I am a familiar face to your parents, and they often commend me for my accomplishments, not to mention my physique.” Large hands firmly grasped the steering wheel as he made the turn down the well-known road.

“Oh? Then why are you all dressed up mmm?” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“It will serve me well to maintain a good impression.” He swiftly rebutted.

You let out an exasperated sigh while shutting your eyes. If you had a sliver of the self-confidence your former childhood friend had, you’d conquer the corporate world. You faced the road again, basket shifting in your lap as you sank lower into the plush leather seat. 

“Remember what I said back in the apartment, absolutely no PDA in front of them. You already know how they are.” 

“I am aware.” 

His polished car pulled into the driveway of your parent's house, the trees in the front lawn casting a nice shade from the blazing light of the sun. He shifted the stick into park. The gentle rumble of the engine ceased the moment he pulled out the keys. Alhaitham swiftly unbuckled, opened, and exited his car. A resounding thump felt as the driver-side door closed. All the while you fumble with your seatbelt, the oversized basket impeding your dexterity. Then finally the click that signaled freedom just as the passenger-side door unlatched. 

“I’ve carried this for long enough. It’s your turn.” You gestured towards the fruit-filled hassle on your lap.  

“Alright.” He effortlessly took the basket from your lap with one arm, and the other outreached towards you patiently.  

You held back your teasing remark as you accepted his invitation, gently placing your hand in his awaiting palm as he helped you out of your seat. Your heart couldn’t help but flutter at his actions, hoping to control the growing smile on your face when you turned away to close the car door. Your hands swayed together up the pathway to the front door, steps matching. 

Your nerves growing as the distance decreased until you were right in front of the lacquered wood. You hastily pulled your hand out of his tender hold, palms getting a bit sweaty. 

“Again, no touching in their presence.” You warned once more. 

Swiftly you pressed the doorbell, its cheerful chime drowning out any possible response from Alhaitham. From behind the door, you could hear the soft thumps of your mother’s feet against the wooden flooring as she strode up. When you hear the clicks of your mom unlatching the door, you took a side step away from Alhaitham, putting a bit more space between your bodies. 

The door flies open. 

“Oh! Dear! Our daughter has arrived! With a handsome guest!” Your mom called back towards your dad. 

“Is it Alhaitham, honey?” Your father’s voice rang from deeper in the house.

It’s been less than a minute and you already want to sink through the floor in embarrassment. Your face begged to be shielded away from your lover’s prying eyes, despite his stoic face he was definitely enjoying this. Just how many times has your mother praised the sculpted perfection that was his face? 

‘It’s just for a few hours, you can power through this. You will survive.’ You repeated this silent mantra in your head. 

Four cups of tea were placed on the living room table, freshly cut fruits taking their place in the center. Your parents both sitting on the opposite sofa from you and Alhaitham. Your lover seated himself comfortably directly in front of your father while you sat at the far opposite end, even placing a throw pillow between you and him as if to create a barrier. 

Your mother was chatting nonstop, questioning Alhaitham about every topic she could.

“How has work been, lil Haitham?”

“The usual.”

“Oh my! Have you grown even taller?”

“My last health check-up did not indicate such a thing.” Despite loathing small talk, he answered overall politely in his monotone voice.

“Then… Have you finally found someone special? A lover?” Your mother pressed, eyes twinkling.

During the last question, you were taking a sip of your tea, only to choke when you processed what your mom had just asked. 

“Ah, not on the carpet child! It’s brand new!” Your mother chided. 

“... You have something to say, little one?” Your dad asked as he handed you a napkin, one brow raised. 

Ah, there’s no use in delaying the truth any longer. After all, telling them was the whole purpose of the two-hour drive, with Alhaitham even going through the trouble of renting a car. As if preparing to rip off a band-aid you counted down in your head, prepping your eardrums. 

3-2-1

“Alhaitham and I are seeing each other.” You quickly revealed. 

Instantly the air was filled with the harmonized gasp of your parents, their hands clutching onto one another and their mouths agape. Their owl-like eyes shiftng between your now red-stained face and your lover’s neutral expression. Expressions morphing from utter shock to disbelief, then finally melting into joy.

“Oh! Dear! The gods have answered our prayers!”

“I know, honey. My faith has been renewed.” 

They were right. Somewhere up above, there must be a god amused by your suffering. You wanted nothing more than for the couch to swallow you as your cheeks burned. May if you were to be sucked into some subspace, you can avoid the absolute tidal wave of questions from your mother’s mouth. 

“For how long?”

“Ah… for about two months now.” 

“How did this happen?” 

“L-long story…” 

“Have you moved in together?”

“Not yet, mom.”

“What date is the wedding? Planned names for the kids? You should name one after-”

“We are planning to take things slowly-”

“Slowly?!” Your mother’s voice peaked. 

Your mom and Kaveh should compete to see who can shatter your eardrums first with their shrills. Your gut churned as you knew what was about to come next.

“You’ve known each other for over sixteen years already, is that not slow enough??”

“I-it’s not the same-”

“Most people your age get married after knowing someone for only a fraction of that time!” 

“U-um-”

“Oh, why is my daughter so indecisive? Do you know just how many people would kill for your place? Poor lil Haitham’s youth is being wasted.” Your mother cradled her face in her hand, disappointment evident. 

A chill overtook your body. The frosty hands of insecurity ran along the back of your neck, preventing you from choking out a response. Not that you had a good answer anyway. 

In fact, you did not have an answer for why you wanted this relationship to move slowly. Were you just scared? Indecisive like your mother just described? More troubling was that Alhaitham also heard your mother’s outburst. From experience, you knew Alhaitham loathed nothing more than things that wasted his time. He is human, his patience is finite.

The atmosphere was tense, despite the beautiful blue sky of Sumeru outside, the room seemed dark and dreary. The cups of tea now growing cold. Deciding to step in from the sidelines, Alhaitham deemed it inappropriate for the conversation to end like this.

“Currently, the geo-political atmosphere has been tense with raising concerns over Snezhnaya. As a result, the economy in Sumeru has been going through a bit of stagflation, not to mention the rapidly inflating prices of houses. As you know, ma’am, I am currently renting out my home to a colleague to cover a portion of the mortgage payment.” He took a sip of tea. 

 “This is all to say that now is just not the right time.” He finishes, placing the cup back onto the wooden table.

“He’s right, honey.” Your father finally contributed to the conversation. 

“Alhaitham and our little one are still young, and the world is turbulent. We shouldn’t be putting more pressure on their shoulders, honey.” Your father reached over to soothe your mother's arms. 

“Once the state of the world settles down, please let me ask for your daughter’s hand.” Alhaitham asked while looking sincerely into their eyes, a sign of his respect for them. 

The gesture brought a surge of heartwarming pride through your parents. As your mother soon changed gears into singing praises of her prospective future son-in-law, the atmosphere in the room light like the sun outside once more. You looked over at Alhaitham, a thankful and knowing smile gracing your lips as you tuned out your mother. 

Many people assume that academically gifted geniuses, such as Alhaitham, lack social and emotional awareness. But the existence of the ashen-haired man beside you shatters that preconceived misconception.

 Alhaitham knew how to take control of the situation, he knew how to dispel tension, and how to mediate a difficult conversation. Perhaps he had learned it from his constant observation of strangers, or maybe from the philosophy novels he had browsed. 

Your hand began inching towards him along the sofa, heart longing to feel his warmth through your skin, to intertwine your fingers. He shifted his body, increasing the space separating you. 

Your hand halted, retreating back to your side shameful like a sinner. You didn’t feel like you had the right to be upset, after all, it was you who told him how distastefully your parents would react to physical displays of affection. 

It may be that the opportunity for tender intimacy between you and him came so sparsely. Only two days out of seven could you act on your affections for one another. Yet, here you were deprived of it in the house you and he shared many memories in. It left you with a bitter sting in the heart.  

The bored gods seem to not be able to get enough of the drama playing out in front of them. Because as if scripted, the moment you and Alhaitham tried to bid your goodbyes, your parents began to pester for the pair of you to stay for dinner. 

“Little one, your mother and I put so much effort into renovating the place. Don’t you want to see?” Your father's lips frowned.

“I also got up extra early to get the freshest ingredients for supper. Do you not miss our cooking?” Your mom guilt-tripped. 

“Well, you see Haitham needs to return the car soon-”

“No, I don’t. I made sure to pay for two days' worth of rental, enough to cover a weekend. Also, it is almost my usual dinner time.” His curt voice answered from behind you. 

Your face snapped back towards him, the look of utter betrayal plastered all over your features. Outnumbered three to one now, you had no choice but to cave as your shoulders dropped. The gods must be laughing at your suffering, wanting the comedy to continue. 

“We’ll go rest a bit in my room…” You quietly uttered. 

“That’s wonderful! Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes! Your room has been left untouched.” Your mom chimed, smile beaming. 

“Yes, yes. We’ll go there now…” You listlessly began the journey up the stairs, Alhaitham right behind. 

“Little one.” Your dad called out from the bottom of the steps. 

“Yes?”

“The door is to remain open at all times.” He reminded. 

“Dad, we’re not kids-”

“House rules.” Your father crossed his arms, stern eyes glancing over Alhaitham and you. 

You dropped your head, feeling as if you had reverted back to your teenage years again. Today was really testing your resolve isn’t it? 

“Fine.” You huffed, continuing your way up the shiny new stairs. 

--

The moment you reached your room, you softly pounded a fist into Alhaitham’s stupidly firm chest. 

“Traitor.” You huffed out. 

“I can’t help it, your parents’ cooking is too good of an offer to pass up.” He said as if stating the obvious. 

“They’re gonna continue with the small talk you know.” You poked. 

“I know, but you’ll be at the table too.” He rebutted. 

You let out an exasperated sigh. He was going to expertly redirect the conversation towards you, just like how he always did back then. You really just can’t win today. You plopped your tired body onto your old bed, the stack of pillows and plushies shifting out of their positions. 

All you’ve done today was sit and talk, yet you felt more exhausted than if you had ran up all 10 stories of your apartment building. You couldn’t wait to go home.

Alhaitham’s teal eyes trailed up your spread form, then around your childhood room. Your room was like a time capsule, with the same wooden desk in the corner, the same unnecessary amount of pillows, and the same scent that was so wholly you. Maybe it was the nostalgia of being in the room the two of you spent so much time in, same open-door rule, his mind began to run through some memories. 

All the times you would lay in your bed with shorts that barely covered your ass. 

All the times you would press your body against his as he help you with assignments at the desk. 

All the times you would run your fingers through his hair and coo ‘smart boy’ after taking your finished homework from his hands. 

All the times the scent of you would linger on his clothes as he pressed the fabric against his nose on particularly desperate nights.

His jaw clenched as murky desire began to bubble up inside of him.

Alhaitham thought after the night when you both proclaimed your feelings to each other, that creature lurking over his shoulder would subside. A miscalculation on his part. 

The boiling pot of emotions, he had been continuously lifting the lid off to relieve the pressure throughout the last two months, only continued to boil over faster. 

The creature only got hungrier, he only got greedier. It wanted to claim you as fully his from the inside out, down to every fiber of your being. Two days out of the week was not enough, it needs more.

Frankly, he thought it was unfair how your essence would taint the rationality of his mind. Isn’t it only fair that he settled the score? To give you a taste of the insanity you put him through. 

Quickly taking note of the bustling noises of your parents in the kitchen, preoccupied with the task of supper. The kitchen radio plays old pop songs from the time of your parent’s youth. These details only encouraged him to put his plan into action. 

“Hey Haitham, before we leave did you want to check on your grandma’s property?” Your eyes focused on the ceiling. 

No response was heard from your ashen-haired lover, as his slow steps closed the distance between your bodies.

“Haitham?-”

Like a falcon swooping down to grasp an unsuspecting hare into its sharp talons, his body pinned yours against the plush bed, lips sealed against yours. The pure shock of it all made you react with a gasp. Never one to miss a window of opportunity, his tongue snaked its way into your mouth. His woodsy scent invades your senses. It’s only been two months since it began, yet your body responded so perfectly, Pavlov could’ve used your reaction to test his theory instead of those dogs.* 

Your skin heated up against his, legs shifting to encase his body against yours, muscles going limp under his control. If you were this weak after a simple kiss, Alhaitham needs to take extra precautions to ensure no other person could ever see you like this. The dark glint of lust was evident in his eyes as his hand trailed under your chiffon skirt. 

He didn’t have the chance to tell you today, but your choice of a light sweater and long flowy skirt was absolutely endearing. So sweet and innocent, and under him, such easy access to be devoured. To emphasize just how vulnerable you were, his long fingers traced all the way up to outline your folds. Feeling how your cunt twitched in response to his touches over the fabric of your panties. Your mouth was desperately trying to break away, lungs burning with the desire for oxygen. 

“Ah- H-haitham?” You whispered out, startled by this uncharacteristic outburst from your lover. 

A thread of saliva connected your two lips, as your flushed face looked up at him. His face was stony as ever if it weren’t for that smirk in his eyes. It signaled that he was perfectly aware that his fingers were now pushing your panties aside. Middle finger sliding up and down your slit, purposefully bumping into a certain bundle of nerves towards the top. 

“W-wait, here? Haitham, my parents-” You stifled a moan when his finger flicked your button. 

“We’re not in their presence at the moment.” He retorted quietly, pressing sweet little kisses against your neck. 

“Still!” You harshly whispered. 

His finger pressed against your opening, and instinctively your cunt clenched, only to close onto nothing. A slickness began to develop along your slit. It’s been five long days since the last time your poor cunt was given any attention. 

“Your body sure is honest.” He tutted. 

In your feeble attempt to shift out of his grasp, your cunt only pressed more into his hands, which only served to weaken your resolve. He brought his lips closer to your ear, his deep voice sending a pleasurable shiver down your spine. 

“If you really don’t want this, then push against my shoulders. Come now, make up your mind.” This said all the while he rubbed slow circles into your clit. 

You could hear the faint clattering of pots and pans coming from downstairs along with the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. You had put on such a big show in front of your lover about the rules, and yet here you were so needy after him. You hated how greedy your body had become for him, nerves kicking into overdrive and skin prickling as his hot breath brushed against it. 

You turned your head to the side, ashamed of how quickly your resolve had crumbled. 

“Good girl. Open your mouth.” He cooed, bringing two fingers up to your lips. 

Your pouty gaze met his as you granted his fingers access, they fluttered along your tongue. Gathering your spit as they did before he pulled them back out. 

“I want to test my efficiency.” He lazily observed his glistening fingers. 

Oh, the desire in the pit of your stomach leaped at his words. As his hands pulled your body towards the edge of the cramped bed. Effortlessly flipping you over so that your plush ass was now facing him, your face pressed against the sheets. 

“Try to be quiet.” He pushed the fabric of your skirt over your ass, revealing your soft mint panties. ‘So you were expecting something.’

Angling your hips up as he knelt at the side of your bed, your cunt was now fully on display for him. The greedy thing twitching with anticipation each time his cool exhales hit its hot skin. In one fluid motion, his wet tongue swiped up along your folds as his thumbs spread them apart. Quickly you bite into the sheets, praying that it would silence your voice. With practiced precision, his tongue instantly attacked your aching bud, stroking it, rolling it, and flicking it with his wet muscle. 

Your hips would’ve been bucking wildly if it weren’t for the firm hold Alhaitham had on them. Your slick was now spilling out onto his awaiting tongue mingling together with his spit as they began to drip down his chin. His tongue continued to assault your swollen bud as your teeth ground against the sheets, fighting to keep down your moans. 

All the while your parents remained blissfully unaware of the beast they’d let into their home that was currently doing unspeakable things to their daughter. 

You felt your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head as you felt that familiar white heat approaching, tension so close to snapping. It would only take 1-2-3 more flicks of his- It all stopped. A whine almost ripped through your throat at the sudden loss of his tongue as he pulled away. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood back to his full towering height. The pressure in his pants screams to be relieved. Who was he to deny himself such simple pleasures? Swiftly undoing his belt and pushing down his boxers, the raging length eager to bury its thick girth into your willing walls. 

You couldn’t help but wiggle your hips a bit, egging him on to give you what you’ve been craving more than any food. The glaze of his tip against your twitching hole was the only warning you got before his hips snapped against yours. The momentum so great it caused the sheets to slip out from your teeth, a loud moan on the cusp of escaping if it weren’t for Alhaitham’s hand swiftly grasping your mouth. 

Your walls welcomed the familiar stretch, clenching and releasing as if they were placing wet kisses along his length. He wasted no time in beginning his brutal pace against your hips, each thrust rocking both your body and the poor bed. Your brain was too preoccupied with pleasure to even worry about the creaking, drool beginning to collect in his hand. 

He already knew where all your weak spots were. And he knew exactly which angle his hips needed to be in order to hit them in the way that made your eyes go to the back of your pretty little head. So that’s what he did. As he felt your slippery walls clamp down tighter with each intentional thrust. Tears of ecstasy were rolling down his hand from your eyes, firm grasp vibrating with every blocked moan that clawed against it. 

Those dark thoughts danced along the edge of his mind again as he criticized his past self for being so foolish. If he had known you were this weak to pleasure, then he would have done this ages ago. He would have taken you against that desk in your little short shorts, making a mess of the papers. He could have made it so much more efficient. 

Alas, the past is the past with no bearing on the present. And right now he was absolutely wrecking you against your old bed. He had taken a winding path, but it still lead to the same place in the end. 

Your walls suddenly became impossibly tight as the convulsions of your orgasm shot through your body, eyes disappearing to the back of your head. Alhaitham had to bite back a moan as he felt your pulsing walls try to milk him. As much as he would have loved to spill everything inside of you, right now was not the right time. 

Perhaps in the future, you will beg over and over again for him to fill you with the essence of him. 

Quickly pulling out, his hand letting go of your hip to give his length the last few strokes to the finish line. Cumming along the curve of your ass, watching as the thick liquid stuck to your skin. Your cunt was still shaking as you slowly descend down from cloud nine. 

He felt confident enough to release your mouth from his hand. Your ears filled with the sound of your pants overlapping each other until-

“Dinner is ready!” 

Your body froze as you turned to face your lover with wide eyes, only to be greeted by the sight of his impassive face. As if he had already predicted this was going to happen at this very moment. 

Ah… The bastard timed this out, didn’t he? 

Swiftly Alhaitham took some tissues from the desk to wipe both you and himself down. Pulling your panties back into place you fussed over your skirt and hair in the mirror, trying to make yourself look as presentable as possible. While Alhaitham tucked himself back into his slacks, buckling up his belt again. 

On your way down the stairs, your mother raised an eyebrow at your trembling legs as your frame followed behind your lover. 

“What happened?”

“Um, I stubbed my toe against the desk again.”

“Ah, you hopeless child.” She tsked. 

--

After the food was cleared out, plates cleaned, and lacquered table swiped down, your parents quickly suggested that the two of you stay for the night. 

This time Alhaitham firmly turned down the invitation, he must have reached his conversational limit for the month.

Waving goodbye to your parents from the passenger seat as they stood under the porch light, a great stress was finally lifted from your shoulders. You were finally released from the torment of the gods. 

Looking over at the man driving beside you, you observed how his eyes also seemed more relaxed. Hands holding the steering wheel in a loose grip as he drove just a bit above the speed limit. 

“Finally had enough?” You taunted. 

“My ears are still ringing.” 

Freshly showered and tucked under the soft covers of your own bed, finally away from the prying eyes of the world. It was only you and him now in the little world of your own called your apartment. Even with the thin walls and sometimes broken water heater, it was a safe haven neither of you would ever trade up. 

The rhythm of your matching breaths provided the room with ambiance, his hand toying around with your left ring finger. A box was currently hidden in a drawer at his home. The jewels once dawned by his grandparents, then his parents, now one day the box his grandmother had left him will have the honor to meet you. 

Meanwhile, your thoughts were consumed by the echoing of your mother’s words back in the living room. It would have been so much easier if it was just a dramatic outburst, but the semblance of truth in her words gripped your mind. If you hoped for a peaceful night of rest, then you needed answers from the source currently cradling your hand.

“Do you feel that my mom’s words from earlier are true? You… you have already given me sixteen years, yet I asked for more time… am I being greedy?” Your other hand hesitantly traced the veins that ran along the back of his hand. 

A silence fell over the two of you as if the winds of Dragonspine had just touched time and froze it. 

But his chest was still rhythmically raising and falling, your heart still drumming in your ears. With every beat passing, you feel the icy hands of doubt creep up your back, they were choking you, making you feel a sting in your eyes. 

‘I am wasting his time.’

The shifting of his large frame snapped time back into place as he tenderly pressed his forehead against yours as if to ground you from your running thoughts. Pulling away slightly for his teal eyes to hold your gaze. In a gentle whisper, his deep voice resonated in your ears.

“It doesn’t matter. For I’ve already decided that in exchange for the rest of your life, I will devote the rest of mine. So, whether it be three, five, or ten years it matters not to me. In comparison to a lifetime, those numbers are insignificant. ”

His hand continued to caress your ring finger.   

“I am a lot more patient than you think.”

In the span of your entire existence together you had always been the one with the most words, the first to break the warm silence, and the first to jest. 

Yet, in sporadic moments there are times when Alhaitham would string together words from his vast vocabulary that would leave you speechless. This was one of those moments. 

When words cannot be used then action must come in. With wet drops collecting in the corner of your eyes you pulled Alhaitham’s lips into a chaste kiss, so soft yet so full of love. Arms interweaving to bring your two bodies into one whole, warm being. 

“Although, for the sake of your ideal wedding. You might want to have it happen when my body is still fit enough to carry you down the aisle. Of course, I’ll maintain this form for the foreseeable future.” He whispered next to your ear.

“Oh hush, since when did you start cracking jokes, Haitham?” You were smiling as warmth dripped down your cheeks. 

Let your mother nag until her voice fades. Let the years slip through your fingertips. Let the economy go to absolute waste. Those future worries be damned. 

All that mattered right now, in this singular instance, was that you were in his arms and him in yours. 

--

Fin~

Author note: * this refers to classical conditioning, I’m going to be a nerd now in my writings. 

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Before-work Quickie - Lute (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Angel!Reader SMUT

Summary: Lute gives you oral and fingers you before she goes to work for the day.

Warnings/Contents: MDNI, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Dom!Lute

Notes: First time writing smut, go easy on me lmao

You woke up with a yawn, stretching, enjoying the feeling of the silk bedsheets against the feathers of your wings. It didn't take you more than a quick moment to notice the absence of your girlfriend next to you, and it also didn't take you long to find her, either.

From where you were lying on the bed, you got a glimpse of the inside of the en suite bathroom, where you could see Lute changing into her uniform. She hadn't finished yet, giving you a good look at her perfect breasts, a sight you weren't expecting to see so early in the morning, but certainly weren't upset with. The sight alone led to a growing arousal within you and between your thighs.

"You wake up, and the first thing you do is stare at me," Lute commented, tone more playful than harsh; a rarity coming from her. You smiled, a light blush on your cheeks. You had been caught staring. She slipped her uniform's top on, taking away what had got you caught in the first place. She then pulled her mask on, completing the look that crept the average denizen of Heaven out, but you had grown accustomed to seeing.

She approached the side of the bed, lifting her mask just enough to reveal her lips, before bending down to kiss you softly. You always got a kiss from her before she left for work. Which meant–fuck, she'd be leaving soon. You'd have to be quick. Swiftly, you pulled her down onto the bed with you, deepening the kiss; putting as much desire into it as possible, hoping she'd get the message, and she did.

She slipped her gloved hand under your nightgown and towards your pussy, feeling through her glove just how wet you were. She separated from the kiss, a smirk on her face as she begin to slowly massage your clit, causing you to let out a small moan.

"I can't believe how wet you are just from seeing my tits," She teased, slipping a finger into you and curling it, watching in satisfaction as you arched your back in reaction to the sudden motion.

"T-That's–fuck, Lute–what you do to me."

She slipped another finger in, then yet another, fucking them into you at a pace that was slow, yet growing in speed. You gripped the sheets, a plethora of sweet moans leaving you, the sound like a heavenly chorus to your girlfriend. Just as fast as she had started fucking you with her fingers, she stopped. You let out an unsatisfied whine at the sudden lack of feeling, a sound you'd surely be embarrassed by once you were done.

You almost started complaining until you saw her move down the bed and spread your legs open even further, bringing her head down to be in between your thighs and towards your wetness.

"What's the time?" She questioned, almost out of the blue, licking a stripe up your wet cunt. You gasped in pleasure, eyes snapping shut as she began to properly eat you out.

"Tell me the time or I'll stop." She demanded in a growl against you. You opened your eyes, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"E-Eight twenty-one—Lute! " You let out a cry of her name as her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on it with fervor. She was speeding up, and you knew why. She had to be out the door by eight thirty if she wanted to get to work on time.

The longer she spent on your clit, the closer you got to your orgasm; its approach barreling towards you. Your hands found the horns of her mask, holding onto them as you attempted to ground yourself, trying to get every second you could out of this wonderful experience. But things couldn't last forever.

"L-Lute," You stuttered. "I'm gonna cum! God, your gonna make me cum so hard!"

"Then cum. You have my permission."

With her words, you orgasm overtook you. Just like you said you would, you came hard, soaking her mask and your thighs in your arousal. She continued to eat you out until you couldn't take it anymore, pushing her away by the horns.

She pulled away, sitting up as you tried to catch your breath. She let out a small, almost impressed, laugh as she took off her mask, looking at just how much you managed to drench it. "Look at what you did."

She pulled off her gloves before heading to the closet and pulling out a spare pair, along with a spare mask. She put both on before heading towards the door. "I'll be back later tonight."

And with that, she left. Leaving you on the bed, satisfied and ready to fall back asleep again.

[velvetures]

Doesn't Crease

A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this new blog I've started working on. I'm really happy to see so many new people and get the chance to write some more. <3 Summary: You're just trying to keep Ghost from losing his eyesight from being purposefully ignorant. T/W: none :)

Looking out for the guys of the 141 typically meant doing things for them that most regular people wouldn’t even think twice about doing on a normal day. They often took care of weapons and missions far better than themselves, and it often resulted in you finding out that they appropriated objects or products for uses that had not a damn thing to do with what they used them for. And the most frustrating of all of them came from how you came to learn about Ghost’s eye paint, and how it stayed on so well for days on end.

You’d been in the Middle East for nearing five days and after being holed up in a cave just on the outskirts of a little town, a safe house was cleared for your use until the end of the mission. It was so damn good to have a shower and put on some clean clothes that you couldn’t have been in better spirits as you walked out of the bathroom into the living area and noticed Ghost sitting in a change of clothes and a much less dirty mask with his face half-painted in that unidentified stuff he used. You watched with an admitted interest as he dipped a couple fingers into a small plastic container that held the substance before smearing more over the bridge of his nose towards the uncovered left side of his face.

“Quit starin’.” he muttered lowly, still very focused on the task at hand and getting the stuff smeared over his eyelid and up to the waterline of his eye.

You didn’t particularly care to listen and just sat down across from him and pulled your bare feet up into the chair and watched just as raptly. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him do this for sure, yet every time filled you with a sense of… excitement. Like you were watching the man under the mask slowly transform himself into The Ghost right in front of you. Certainly a childish kind of thrill, yet you never missed the chance to watch Ghost do anything, really. Curiosity always got the better of you when it came to the mysterious Lieutenant, and that black stuff he smeared on his face wasn’t exempt from your silent questioning.

“Will you leave me the fuck alone?” He growled, steely eyes darting right to you with a harsh edge to his posture.

Ghost always had a prickly attitude about everything, good or bad. Fuck, you could tell him that he’d won a million dollars and he’s just grumble about how paying taxes on it would be a bitch. Never seeing any bright side of a situation. But that also didn’t come as much of a shock. The Lieutenant always put you in mind of this black shadow just floating around wherever he pleased or was needed for the time being.

You’d made jokes to Gaz and Soap about his sandpaper-like disposition and shitty attitude before, oftentimes enjoying a short moment before sleeping -without Ghost present of course- where you mimicked him for entertainment. It always got you a bunch of laughs considering the stark contrast between your own character and the Lieutenant’s. You didn’t mean anything negative by it, Ghost just made it too easy to poke quiet fun at him every so often.

“If you answer a question, I’ll leave.” You bargain quickly, already knowing exactly what you wanted to ask about. Ghost just growled in frustration, leaning his forearms on his massive thighs and looked pointedly at you, silently demanding you got on with your foolishness so that you could go off somewhere else and be a pain in the ass for someone else.

“What is that?” You nod to the small container holding his eye paint.

“I mean… the stuff you put on your face?” Unconsciously the question comes out of your mouth a tad bit nervously and hesitant. Not that you had the slightest fear of Ghost being upset with you in a dangerous way, but more so that you were prying into something that he felt was too personal to discuss. That kind of assumption wouldn’t have typically been far off with how private he liked to keep things.

Contrary to his typical behavior Ghost gave a small huff of something close to laughter. Apparently amused and puts the lid on the small jar to toss it across the room for you to get a better look at it. Unscrewing the lid of the small plastic travel-jar, you were met with a very familiar smell. And it wasn’t the kind of cosmetic fragrance you were expecting it come from it.

“Gun grease,” Ghost answered quite offhandedly, acting as if that wasn’t a totally ridiculous idea. Speechless and naively shocked, you look up at the Lieutenant with wide eyes and your mouth a little agape. The look on your face only amuses Ghost that much more and a little flash of it shows in his dark eyes.

“You put slide action lubricant on your face!?” You almost hiss the words out, disbelieving and in total awe of how Ghost hadn’t lost his eyesight, got chemical burns, or some other type of injury from doing something so unheard of.

Ghost shrugs noncommittally. “I prefer Hoppes. Theirs lasts the longest.” He said standing up and stretching his neck side to side.

“You have a fucking brand preference?” Your mouth really does drop open now.

“Brand and color.” He replies smugly, striding over towards you and grabbing the small container and opening it back up to dab more over his eyebrow which hadn’t been fully covered earlier.

“Hoppes…” You repeat the word, thinking for a moment. “You mean that kind that comes in the syringe?” The image of the component and how it hangs in a little package in the gun care and cleaning aisle at every store. you’ve ever been to.

“One and the same.”

Your eyes roll skyward and you can’t help but groan out. “Good god…”

For weeks after that conversation, your mind revisits the thought of Ghost using a ten-dollar tube of gun grease not only as weapon maintenance but also as a skincare product. Surely he’s not stupid enough to think that it’s not harmful to his skin right? He’s got to know that when it gets into his eyes it can cause damage? It comes to a breaking point when you go into a local drugstore for a prescription painkiller for a recent on-mission injury and notice an End Cap display showing a new line of gel eyeliners that have come out boasting 48hr smudge resistance and an almost instant, comfortable dry-down.

You stop dead in your tracks, almost totally forgetting about needing to pick up the week-supply of pills for yourself as you gather up every single one of them in the color black and shove them at the woman working behind the register. The look she gives you is one of masked concern, but you just hand over the cash for it and your prescription before heading back out to your car with a sense of hopefulness that your Lieutenant won’t lose his eyesight prematurely if you can help it.

The following day you’re to report in to HQ for a meeting with the team for a pre-op report review, and have the chance to give Ghost your… gift of sorts. You’re walking out of the meeting, purposefully walking beside of him instead of talking to Soap or asking Price some lingering questions you have so your opportunity doesn’t slip by you.

“Hey, uh do you have a minute?” You nudge his arm with your elbow, looking up at him out of the corner of your eye. Ghost’s eyebrows raise, and he silently gives a stiff nod, not caring to elaborate any further.

Instead of peeling off towards his office down the corridor to your left, he keeps following you silently until you get out to your vehicle parked outside. Although he doesn’t say anything about it, you can feel his questioning look burning into your back as you unlock the doors and reach into your passenger seat for a small black bag that rattles with the sound of thick glass knocking up against each other inside. Even when handing it to him, he’s reluctant to uncross his arms and accept the bag from you because he’s much more comfortable just staring at you coldly. No doubt expecting you to do what you’re best at and waste his time for something inconsequential.

“Here… I really don’t want you going blind anytime soon.” You give him a half smile, dropping the gift bag in his hand. With that, you give a small goodbye and go around to the other side of your vehicle, and drive off before the Lieutenant can open the bag or question you about what the fuck you’d just given him thirty small jars of.

Once home you go about getting some clothes washed for the upcoming mission and take some time to make a call to your neighbor to ask if she can look in on your home and plants while you’re away and pay the water and electric bill since you’ll be out of town when the bills will be mailed. You’re halfway through telling the older woman that you’ll go ahead and write a couple of checks that she can take to the bank with her own bills when you feel your phone vibrate against your ear.

Your elderly neighbor gives her happy acceptance of helping out and gets off the phone so she doesn’t miss her nightly show while you check the notification you’ve received. It’s from a number not saved, but it’s not spam text or one of those random kinds of messages you get when someone uses the wrong number. It’s short, sweet, and to the point. The verbiage and almost awkward tone give you all the information you need to know that the Lieutenant had not only opened his gift but asked someone for your private cell so that he could give his… thoughts.

-Dries down a lot quicker. I like that it doesn’t crease.-

Reblogs & Comments are Appreciated <3

[yammpi3]

𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖. // 𝑾𝑪: 2.2𝑲

— feat. disassembly drone N x worker drone reader

synopsis. Since disassembly drones need oil to keep from overheating they kill other drones to consume it. But.. ever since the alliance between Disassembly and Worker Drones its been a bit difficult to acquire..It’s not a problem for V to randomly kill someone off but it’s a different situation for N now that his views have changed. AKA…reader supplies him with oil :DD

— content warning. Nothing 18+ just a few kisses, neck biting and N being in pain.. gulp?

— authors note. I fear this x reader is a bit..cringe then again that might just be me overthinking it..ANYWAYS tried my best for this, and still have no idea how to write for a robot. (N might be a little mischaracterized I’m not ENTIRELY sure)

At the end of science class, just when everyone was packing up to leave, you noticed N fidgeting more than normal at his desk.

 

"Is everything okay, N?" you asked.

 

He laughed nervously. "Who, me? Pshaw, never better!" But when he spoke, he looked anywhere but at you and the others.

Thad snickered. "Maybe his circuits are loose again." Lizzy giggled. "Lmao, he probably fried something.” Just as V was about to comment on his behavior..

N got up from his chair abruptly; he swayed unsteadily before catching himself upon another classroom desk.

 

By the time you registered what was going on, N had already ducked out of the classroom door, stumbling down the hall. "N, wait!" you called after him, hurrying to catch up. N was unsteady on his feet, swerving from side to side as he tried to put distance between the both of you.

 

His limbs shook with every step he took.

"G-Gotta...g-get a-away..." he muttered, though you weren't sure if he was even aware you could hear him. His eyes flickered erratically, barely being able to focus straight ahead as he tried to get away.

 

You picked up your pace, power walking down the corridor after him. "Slow down!!" you yelled out, but N was quicker, and before you knew it, when you reached the next corner, you lost him completely.

Your concern for N grew by the minute, so you started tracking him down since something was clearly wrong, beyond a normal glitch.

 

An hour had already passed since you last saw N, yet here he was in the maintenance unit stumbling blindly, crashing into something every few steps.

 

"S-sorry!" he slurred after bumping into a support beam for the third time. An unnatural static fuzzed the edges of his voice. Stubbornly, he scrambled back on his feet and lurched forward without seeing where he went.

 

Was he malfunctioning? But his murder drone programming should have kept him sharp, no?? Seeing him this disoriented was alarming.

 

You trailed him at a distance, hiding behind a variety of things as he walked on ahead. Where was he heading in such a panic? His vents were roaring torrents by now, and visible condensation soaked his frame.

 

Finally, he collapsed behind a supply crate, crawling the last few feet. Had he sensed you following? No, his optics were unfocused, so he couldn't have had.

 

Gingerly, you peeked around the crate to see N weakly clawing at his chest clearly in pain.

 

If you didn't act fast, he would shut down permanently. Steeling your nerves, you crawled to his side.

 

"N? Hey..hey! It's me, Y/N. Are you okay??”

 

When you gently called his name, N got startled so badly that his claws scraped sparks from the metal flooring he sat upon. His optics flashed wildly before settling on your face with a look of panic. "Y-Y-Y/N! S-sorry, but I don’t think you should be near me right now…”

 

N let out an alarmed wheeze that trailed off into a pained whine. It took visible effort for his optics to focus on you. You could tell he was losing some sort of control over his strength, but why??

"You don’t look so good..”

 

N broke into a hacking series of rushed laughter that ended in a groan. "Me? Pssh, n-no way! I'm t-totally fine, like I said earlier. Now please just leave me, yeah?” He waved dismissively, or at least tried to, but his attempt ended up flailing limply.

 

He knew he wasn't doing a great job at reassuring you when you glared at him.

"N-nothing to worry that pretty l-little processor of yours over, really.”

 

N's dismissive act was crumbling faster than his resolve. Another hacking laugh turned into a groan as his eyes started to flicker erratically once again.

 

"N, please. You're clearly not alright." You took his flailing claw gently in your hands. His plating was so hot it almost burned to the touch.

 

A whine slipped, “Crap..crap. It h-hurts,

Y/N. M-My core, it h-hurts so F̵̬̏́̏͆̀͝ų̸͙͋̿̃̌͋́̈́̆͑̕͠c̶̜̜̼̥͓̚k̷̫̺̝̈́̀̿̇͐̐͑ḭ̸̧̻̞̻͚̳̘̩̣͋̀̃́̔̊̋̚ň̵̞̪̯̼̟̗̩͈̖́g̸̩̤̩̼̘̪̀́͊͗̋͐́̇ much."

 

You've never seen N this vulnerable before…

"What can I do to help? There must be something." N trembled, fighting some inner battle. Finally, he met your gaze, his optics showing an agony of want behind the discomfort.

 

"T-there is s-something, b-but I shouldn't..." Strangely, another sound intermingled with the strain in his voice now.

Was that...hunger?

 

Stroking his plating gently, hoping to soothe, you pressed, "Please, tell me what you need." His vents hitched wildly. Then, in a strained whisper, he cracked.

"Y-your oil...I ne-need…it."

 

A shiver visibly ran through his frame. His optics darkened as they focused intently on your physic, more so your neck and wrist.

 

"I..." he began weakly, then stopped to swallow. His claws clenched tightly as if fighting the urge. You waited patiently for him to continue, showing concern but no sense of alarm.

 

After a long pause, N dragged his gaze with an effort to meet your face once more.

“T-tell me to stop," he whispered, his fangs peeking out as he talked.

 

"I so badly n-need it, but I don't w-want to hurt you.” His claws lifted toward your face but stopped only by his wavering will. You knew this would be the only way for him to cool down.

 

You looked deeply into N's eyes, past the haze of glitches that overtook his screen.

"I trust you," you said calmly without fear. His breathing became more ragged at your words.

 

In a flash, his restraint broke—but instead of lunging at your throat as you'd expected, his claws tangled in the fabric of your shirt, yanking you flush against his overheated frame. You gasped at the contact, feeling the waves of heat pouring off of him.

 

N buried his face in the crook of your neck, fangs tantalizingly. "P-please..." he stammered once more, sounding close to genuine tears. Raising a hand, you gently clasped the back of his head, threading your fingers through his silver hair.

 

"Take what you need," you told him firmly yet tenderly..After yet another hesitant pause, his screen displayed an X. Then, with a grunt of gratification, his fangs smoothly penetrated the sensitive wiring of your neck.

 

Your breath became unsteady as N's fangs pierced you. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would—just a little bit of a pinch. His hands gripped your shoulders for support as he drank deeply, allowing the oily fluid to course through his system.

 

For several moments the only sounds were his gulping intakes and your own measured breaths; you kept still so as not to disturb him. You watched as the pained lines on his face slowly eased, his eyes returning to normal. His plating, which was boiling hot only moments ago, cooled down to a much safer temperature against you.

 

N withdrew his fangs from your neck, making a small trickle of oil leak from your wound.

 

He leaned back in hastily, swiping his tongue along the twin marks. You shuddered at the foreign yet not unpleasant sensation. But N paused, a flushed look appearing on his screen. “Ah g-geez, is this w-weird?”

 

He glanced away, clearly embarrassed  "What I mean to say is, um, my saliva can help the wounds close up faster? If, uh, you're okay with my germy mouth touching the injury I c-caused? No funny business, I swear! J-just bros being bros, p-patching each other…um up.”

 

N winced, realizing how that sounded. "N-not that we're actually b-bros, unless you want to be? Biscuits. Just—just let me do this, kay?”

With your consenting nod, N gave a short awkward chuckle and leaned back in. His tongue swiping over the wound. It began to tingle as the mark he had left slowly began to close up.

 

"It's strange to think your spit has healing properties," you remarked softly, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment. N hummed in agreement, laving one last swipe across the bite mark before drawing back to assess his handiwork. His optics flicked up to meet yours, searching for any sign of discomfort.

 

"How does it feel? Are you in any pain?" he asked, his tone laced with concern despite his own drained state. You shifted experimentally. "Stop worrying. Just a slight tingling.“

 

N searched your face anxiously. "Are you sure? Nothing else? No dizziness or discomfort?" His optics roved your features, taking in every subtle reaction. When you reassured him again that all was well, the tension melted from his shoulders—only to be replaced with guilt.

 

"Y/N, I could have seriously hurt you," he said quietly, horror creeping into his tone. "My systems went haywire; I had no control. If I had bitten down any harder..." He shuddered, unable to complete the thought.

 

"But you didn't," you said firmly. "You fought off the urge just enough to get the help you needed. I trusted you, N." He shook his head sadly. "Your trust may be misplaced in me. The overheating....what if next time I can't—can’t stop.”

 

N shuddered again at the dark thought. Seeking to ease his distress, you shot him a playful smile. "Well, if it happens again, we're in this together. At least now I have a cool vampire drone friend!! The whole sucking my oil thing was pretty vampirish.”

 

He cracked a hesitant chuckle. "Yeah, maybe I'll sparkle in the sun too." Feeling bold, you leaned in with a faux-dramatic voice, "I vant to suck your coolant..."

 

N actually snickered at that. You beamed, glad to lift his spirit, even if it was only for a brief moment. His smile faded as reality set back in.

 

"But seriously, what if next time I really hurt someone?” On impulse, you threw your arms around him in a hug.

 

N's eyes widened as you suddenly hugged him close. For a moment he sat stiffly, caught off guard. Then slowly, oh so carefully, his arms came up to return the embrace.

 

"Y/N...if anything happened to you because of me, I don't know what I'd do," he said quietly against your shoulder. You squeezed him tighter for reassurance. "Hey, it'll take a lot more than some murder instinct to take me out. Have a little more faith in me, will you? Stop being so edgy.”

 

“Edgy?" N scoffed, "Sorry, nearly ripping your throat out put me in a gloomy mood."

 

"Ripping my throat out?” You echoed with a wry grin. "Well, luckily that didn’t happen, did it?”

 

N huffed, “Maybe. But what if next time I lose it?"

 

You opened your mouth to respond, but he quickly shushed you.

 

“You just leaped right in like it was nothing. Do you have any idea how badly this could've ended?" He gestured vaguely to the drying wound on your neck.

 

"You drones are so..so fragile. One wrong move and I could've—" He cut off, unable to say the word. His arms flexed unconsciously, as if longing to wrap around something and squeeze. To protect, or destroy? Even he wasn't sure.

"You'd never hurt me, N. I believe in-"

 

Your words halted as he glanced up, his eyes searching yours with raw, wavering emotion. An urge welled within you, sprung from compassion more than reason. You leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

 

"Mmmph?!" N made a muffled sound of surprise, his body locking up stiffly. Your tongue briefly caught the tang of the lingering oil before you pulled back with a slight grimace.

 

His faceplate shone a distressed yellow blush. "I-I'm so sorry, I should have wiped my mouth better!“ he stammered.

 

But you simply smiled and leaned in again, pressing your lips gently to his once more. Then, slowly, he began to relax into the kiss.

 

His screen switched to a loading screen. In that moment, all his train of thought derailed off a cliff. N's screen flickered back online, and one of his hands floated up to gently touch his mouth, eyes wide and staring blankly.

 

"Bwuh-wha...you...kissem—I mean, I kissem-no, we...kissed?" he sputtered

 

"We k-kissed. You k-kissed me," he whispered, his optics shrinking to pinpoints before dilating wide again. A nervous giggling burst out of him.

 

"Oh biscuits, what d-does this mean? Are we like..” his tone lowered to a soft whisper.

“Dating n-now?”

 

"Well, uh, I guess you could say we're kind of sort of datingish now," you replied bashfully. "If-if you want to be my boyfriend, that is."

 

N's entire face lit up. "Boyfriend..Awhh Y/N!! Id love that." He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in excitement.

 

"N set you down gently, his optics still shining with unbridled joy. However, a hint of seriousness crept into his expression as he looked at you intently.

 

"This doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for what you did," he said, his voice low and eyes narrowed slightly. "You could have been seriously hurt, or worse. You really scared me back there."

 

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Next time, I'll call V or someone else—I won't try to handle things on my own and potentially get myself killed." You paused, then added with a wry smile, "I promise."

N's stern look softened, and he hummed contentedly. "Good!" Reaching out, he took your hand in his larger one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey so it's exactly 10 days after what i added to @cherrychapsticksteve's post, and it hasn't left my brain SO! Murphy, this is for you. i hope enjoy this full version!!!

pairing: steddie | word count: 7,536 | rated: T

-🎸-

Eddie's chest heaves as he sprints farther into the woods.

It’s not the first (and certainly won’t be the last) time he runs from Hawkins’ finest. This time, Hopper and Callahan had busted him after he ran a stop sign (it wasn’t his fault, okay? He had to change the tape and didn’t see the sign or the patrol car stopped at the damn cross street).

The ‘failure to obey traffic signs’ was the least of his problems though, not after his damn lunchbox dropped out of the van when they asked demanded he “Take a step out here, Munson.”, and the last crumbs of the stock he’d gotten from Rick the week before last spilling out at Hopper’s feet.

They get him in cuffs, of course, but the second they turn their backs on him, he fucking books it.

Hands cuffed behind him, wallet chain jangling around his hip in time with the zipper of his jacket hitting the lowest button of his vest, both officers are wheezing way too soon after he starts playing getaway. He twists and spins out of the way of their grasps, but Callahan gets a second wind and nearly catches him, so he bolts; Tears off past his van and into the woods.

He's got some sense of where he's going, they busted him on Cornwallis and it should be a clear cut through the forest past Loch Nora and to the park, but it's even darker as he gets under the treeline. The fading twilight blocked out by the canopy above him.

Still, he took off into the woods on the west side of the street so as long as he keeps going straight, he'll be fine. 

Joke's on him though, nothing about him has been straight since before he came to live with Wayne (since he was born if what his science teacher Mr. Clarke once told him is to be believed), so it's no fuckin' wonder that he's gotten off course.

He dismisses it at first, the gradual incline he's following at more of a jog than a sprint now, but when he hears sirens go off way too close and he finds himself crashing into a meticulously trimmed backyard, it makes sense.

What doesn't make sense is why of all the gallivanting through the woods he'd just done, over and under fallen logs, rocks, through bushes and thickets, that his feet betray him on the half inch concrete lip of patio he hadn't yet slowed himself enough to avoid altogether.

The toe of his sneaker clips the very corner, his feet try to right themselves, but he's already hurtling toward this person's inground pool. 

In the split second he's falling, Eddie's brain does three things almost simultaneously: 1) realizes that whoever's house this is, there's only one light on. an upstairs window that must be a bedroom. Good. Maybe then he can pick himself up after this what-would-have-been super embarrassing fall and get the fuck back out of their yard without them noticing.

2) It has enough sense to turn his body to the left to take the fall onto the concrete on his shoulder instead of his face, though it means he'll definitely be rolling into the pool now. Damn. 

And 3) a simple thought of 'Aw, fuck.'

What his brain didn't account for was the edge of the pool. And that it should have considered its boney housing's downward momentum in the fall.

His temple collides with the edge where plastic meets stone, and Eddie Munson, freshly concussed and all but dead to the world, falls into the water.

-🍦-

The night Steve Harrington officially meets Eddie Munson is like every other.

At home, alone, waiting for it to be a reasonable time to go to bed. 

He’s leaning his desk chair back on two legs, his feet propped up on his mattress, flipping through the new June '85 edition of Vogue that came in the mail that day addressed to Linda Harrington.

Halfway through reading about Eric Stoltz in that new movie Mask (and seriously debating somehow guilting his parents into sending him one of these watches for a late graduation gift because shit that's a nice watch), he hears a splash from outside his window.

The sound makes him jump from how unexpected it is, and he would've for sure tumbled ass backwards off his chair if the wall hadn't been behind him.

He jumps up and yanks open his blinds to look out at the pool below.

There are fresh ripples weaving across the normally still top, and a shadow of something bubbling up from the bottom.

His guts twist up immediately; of course, it could be just some stupid deer, but it could also be any number of insane hell creatures, one of which had once used his pool as it's front door before.

"Shitshitshitshit," Steve snatches up his bat from under the bed and launches himself out his room and down the stairs in record time.

By the time he gets to the edge of the pool, the ripples have dispersed significantly, and the..whatever it is.. at the bottom is releasing bubbles slower than ever.

It takes about a second more for him to parse out the very obviously human shape crumpled under the water and--is that blood?

Steve dives into the water directly across from the bright red smear on the plastic lining.

His eyes burn with the chemicals, all he makes out of the person is a pale face and dark hair.

He hooks an arm under theirs and across their chest, and pushes up from the bottom.

Steve finds a foothold in the shallows and powers over to the stairs as fast as he can, pulling the limp man up onto the concrete.

He gets to work on them immediately, checking for a pulse, checking for breath..nothing.

"Fuck Fuck Fuck!" Steve starts compressions on his chest, counting in his head before sucking in a deep breath, pinching the guy’s nose shut, and sealing his mouth onto the blue lips below him.

Nothing.

"C'mon Munson," Steve starts counting compressions again. "Don't do this to me, man." It surprises him that this is when his brain pairs the pale features and dark denim to Hawkins' Super-Senior, but it's him alright. The vest is a giveaway, though he definitely looks like a completely different person without his bangs hanging over his forehead, or that dumbass grin he has when he's going on some tirade at lunch.

Steve closes his lips over Eddie's once again and this time, it works.

Eddie pitches forward, spewing chunky water all over the ground in front of him.

Steve supports his back as he does, "Shit, man, let it out, let it out." He looks down then, finally realizing Eddie's arms have been completely incapacitated by a pair of cuffs this whole time. 

His breaths are ragged, gagging while he takes in shaky breaths.

He continues to pat Eddie's back, smacking his palm over some demon-looking thing on the back panel of his vest.

"Breathe, Eddie, you got it." The older boy's dazed gaze turns to him then, "You back with me?"

"Harrington?" it comes out a wheeze.

“Hey Munson, you okay?”

Eddie looks around at Steve’s yard, to the pool, “Yeah I—Yeah..” he looks back at Steve, “What happened?”

“You fell into my pool, dude.” he chuckles, “I pulled you out and you weren’t breathing.”

“…huh.”

That pulls another snort out of him. “Yeah, ‘Huh.’.”

Eddie looks off into the woods, then back to his face. “And what happened before that?”

Steve pulls lightly on the cuffs. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

“I don’t–I don’t know what..” he glances around, panicked, “I don’t know why I’m in cuffs, I–”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay man. You’re okay.” Steve rubs gently over the same spot he’d been patting, “Let’s get you inside, alright? Get some food maybe?”

Eddie takes a couple more breaths then nods, “Yeah…yeah okay, Harrington.”

He leads Eddie inside after he’s calmed down a bit more, sitting him down on one of the chairs at the breakfast nook and dashing quickly to the laundry room off the kitchen for a towel.

"Eddie, hey, y'gotta stay awake." he says, wrapping him up and giving him a light shake, "I'm gonna make you something to eat soon, but I wanna get you outta your cuffs first. Can you tell me how to get them off?"

"Yea-yeah," Eddie smacks his lips dryly, thinking hard, "Do you have a bobby pin?"

Steve studies him while he quickly searches his brain for where the last time he might've seen one. He's still dazed, still out of it (which is fair, honestly, he almost died after all), and is starting to shiver despite the towel.

He goes to the sink and pours a glass of water. "I think my mom has some. Let me help you drink some of this, and we’ll get you upstairs, okay?" he says, turning back to Eddie and keeping his voice soft, as if he'd scare him off if he spoke any louder.

Eddie's face scrunches in confusion, so he continues, "I’ll get you out of those cuffs and into the shower so you can warm up."

He watches Eddie’s expression morph as he registers what was said to him. His eyes go hooded, his cheeks tinge pink, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Y'wanna get me naked, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, his own cheeks prickling with heat. Eddie's hot okay? Objectively. He doesn't have to be into guys to know that. And flirting is flirting.  Sue him. "Shut up man," he laughs.

He holds the glass to Eddie’s lips and lets him drink as much as he wants, then sets the glass down on the table. He pulls gently on Eddie’s bicep, hooking an arm around the other man's waist, under an arm, and when he finally feels like he's got a good enough hold on him, they head to the steps.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Eddie mumbling to himself the whole way. Steve hears a grumbled "Naked..", something that sounds like "..Gotta be dreamin',", and his own name, drawn out as if in disbelief "Steeeve Harrington...".

Finally, they make it to the master bedroom and Steve deposits Eddie on the edge of the bed. He immediately falls over onto his right side.

"Ow! Shit.. that fuckin' sucks."

"Your shoulder?" Steve asks, grabbing up a pin from his mother's vanity and turning back to the still damp man on the bed.

"Yeah, I–I must've fallen onto it before I went in." Eddie reasons, "Also, my head hurts."

"I bet," Steve nods, climbing up behind Eddie, "Now, you gotta tell me what to do here, man." he turns the cuffs slightly where he can see the little keyhole. "I've never picked the lock on a pair of cuffs."

"Ya don't say..'' he drawls sarcastically, "Just put the pin in my hand and I'll do it.”

Steve watches Eddie's fingers fiddle with the bobby pin; twisting it every which way while he feels out which side is which, which end of it he wants, prying it open with only a couple fingers, twisting into his hair, the pads of them ghosting along his lips, how they might feel opening him u--

Steve jumps up off the bed, causing Eddie to complain about the movement fucking up his concentration or something.

He ignores him, heading into the ensuite to start the shower.

Holy shit.

What in the actual fuck was that? He shakes his head, hard, willing his brain not to think those thoughts again. He is not gay or anything, everyone has thoughts like that sometimes. Tommy said so.

After starting the water and grabbing a new towel from under the counter, Steve takes a breath and steps back out into the bedroom.

He lets the breath out in relief when he sees Eddie's hands separate from the other, one palm pressed to the left side of his face and his other hanging loosely in front of him off the edge of the bed.

His soggy white Reeboks have also joined him on the bed, feet dangerously close to the pillow.

"Up n’ at 'em, Munson, gotta get you cleaned up." Steve calls, relishing briefly in making Eddie jump in surprise. "Can you get up on your own?"

Eddie groans, but slowly lets his feet drop back down to the floor.

Steve is back on Eddie's side of the bed before he's upright, offering a hand.

His open palm is puzzled at for a few long seconds, then Eddie places his hand in Steve's.

"Okay, up we go," he pulls Eddie to his feet, singing his arm around the other man's waist again and pulling Eddie's arm over his shoulders.

"Dizzy." Eddie complains.

"I know, I know," he soothes in return, "It's this way."

They shuffle into the bathroom and Steve lowers Eddie onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"We gotta get you out of your wet clothes, okay Eds?" The nickname slips through his teeth, but Eddie doesn't seem to mind it, nodding slowly.

Steve kneels in front of him, "Shoes first. Can you get your jacket and vest off for me?"

“Pushy, pushy,” Eddie teases, starting to pull his jacket off, “You really wanna get me naked, don’t you.” 

“Oh yeah. I am just itching for ‘pale, scrawny asshole’.” Steve deadpans in return, unlacing Eddie’s sopping sneakers and placing them in front of the counter.

“Oh now you wanna see my asshole? Buy a guy dinner first, Stevie.”

Steve tries to ignore the soupy feeling in his stomach at the nickname. It’s not even a new one, Tommy’s called him that before too and it never made his guts all squirmy like this.

It’s gotta just be because he and Eddie aren’t friends like he and Tommy had been.

That’s all.

But that’s not all, is it? His brain betrays him again, taking only half a second to imagine going on a date with Eddie, taking him to dinner, a movie, whatever. Taking him home, giving him a kiss goodnight.

The scenario is imagined, but the swirling feeling in his stomach is all too real.

He’s felt this before, the nerves and excitement of taking out a girl he really likes, getting to talk to her, get to know her, the possibility of getting to kiss her (and maybe more) at the end of the night.

But now it’s Eddie Fucking Munson that his gut’s all soupy for. Does he like Eddie? Does he want to Date him?

Steve feels his face heat up, his knees feel wobbly despite being on stable ground, his stomach erupts in butterflies—aw fuck. He likes Eddie. 

“Be careful with this, Harrington, It’s worth more than you’ll ever know.” Miraculously, Eddie managed to get his jacket off with the vest still wrapped around it. He passes the bundle gingerly over to Steve, like it's breakable.

He looks down at the crumpled clothing in his hands; he can see a couple patches that are hand-sewn into the denim, a broken zipper on one of the sleeves of Eddie’s jacket that has been pinned shut, a single button worn shinier than the rest. He believes him.

“I’ll take care of it, promise.” Steve says, placing the bundle up next to the sink gently. “Now, do you need help with the rest?”

Eddie immediately looks like he’s going to say no, but he seems to think better of it. “Uhm, can you help with these?”, he pats his legs, “I’d do it myself, but they’re gonna be a bitch to get off since they’re all wet and I’m still dizzy and don’t really want to bend over to pull off the bottoms but–y’know what just forget it, I’ll—”

Steve interrupts his rambling, “Eddie, it’s fine! I offered, didn't I? Help me out?” he gestures to Eddie’s zipper with his chin and starts to pull at the legs of Eddie’s skinny jeans. “I don’t get it man, why squeeze into these–”

The jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle pulls his focus, his eyes darting up to catch a flash of the buckle being undone. He averts his eyes, but a split second later, his brain registers what he’d seen and his gaze snaps back to it.

“Handcuff buckle? Really?”

“Don’t diss the buckle, Stevie,” Eddie chides, working the buckle loose. It continues to jingle as he works at it.

“How good of a buckle can it be if you can’t even get it undone?” Steve says, getting the second leg of Eddie’s jeans pulled down under his heel.

“It keeps me virtuous.” Eddie grits out, then huffs out a “Finally..” as the mini handcuffs fall open.

It was a bad moment to be done with what he was doing. Because Steve looks up just as Eddie unbuttons his fly and pulls the zipper down.

Steve shoots up off the floor, “Need some help standing up?” He asks, trying to cover for his minor freak-out. Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself up, “Don’t let me fall okay? I’m still feelin’ kinda…loopy.”

“Sure, man.”

So Steve stands there, gaze averted politely, as Eddie shimmies his jeans off and pulls his shirt off over his head.

He leaves him to it after that, pointing out the shampoo and soap, where he’d hung the new towel for him, and escapes to go find Eddie some new clothes.

He fishes a pair of black sweats out from one of his drawers, a pair that had been too small for him since sophomore year, and a plain black undershirt. He grabs up his personal favorite hoodie too, a Hawkins High Swim one, and a pair of thick fuzzy Christmas socks Mrs. Henderson had given him this past year.

After agonizing over whether or not to grab a pair of boxers too (he does, a new pair from the back of his top drawer), Steve wanders back into the master bathroom and deposits the pile on Eddie’s vacated seat.

The frosted glass door and added steam cloud Eddie’s form, but Steve can see the vague outline of him, standing just at the edge of where the water must be falling.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie says softly.

It’s after he’s gathered up Eddie’s chlorine scented clothes that he notices, thinking belatedly to grab the discarded towel off the bed on his way back downstairs, but when he turns to grab it, he’s stopped short by a darkening stain puddled up on one end.

Right where Eddie’s head had been.

It all clicks. The smear of blood on the edge of the pool, Eddie’s complaints of his head hurting, of feeling dizzy and lightheaded.. And now Steve’s left him standing on his own in a hot-ass shower?!

He’s not sure how he heard it, but there’s a soft “Steve?” called out from the bathroom before a loud thump echoes out into the bedroom. 

-🎸-

At first, the shower felt fan-fucking-tastic, but not long after stepping under the hot, wonderfully pressured stream, he’d started feeling (even) more light headed.

He takes a deep breath, and leans on one hand at the back of the shower out of the spray while his head clears enough.

Operating in much the same way through the rest of the shower, he scrubs himself down, washing the chlorine from his skin and hair, wincing slightly when he stretches his shoulder the wrong way and when he scrubs over his right temple. There’s a knot there. Great.

He continues through the motions, taking as deep of breaths as he can, but rinsing the shampoo out of his hair is what does it. His arm stretched up, the more concentrated steam, the tilting back of his head…he bobbles forward out of the stream, hand on the wall again.

Where the hell is Steve? He’s gotta get out of here, gotta turn off the shower..somehow? Eddie’s vision blurs. Fuck.

“I’m gonna start a quick load of laundry with your things, okay? I left you some stuff on the toilet.” Steve says, back in the room as if summoned by Eddie’s desperate thoughts.

‘C’mon coward, ask him for help! He’s right outside the door!’

“‘Kay.”

‘No! Damnit!’ He’ll be fine, he just needs to breathe again, needs to sit down..

“Steve?”

Then he’s out (again).

-

When he comes to (again), he’s back on the bed, under the covers, and still kinda damp. And dressed.

“What the fuck?”

The bedroom door opens then, and he tries to sit up. Shit, why is he so sore?

He blinks away the fuzziness in his eyes only to see Steve goddamn Harrington hovering over him.

Steve pushes him back down onto the pillows. “Oh no nono you don’t. You stay right there.” he chastises.

“What the fuck, what happe—” The memories of the last couple hours roll over him all at once, along with heavy mortification that presses him further into the pillows. He covers his face with his hands, “Jesus H. Christ..did I pass out in the shower?”

“I’m sorry Eddie,” 

“Sorry for what? That I’m a klutz?” he mumbles out from under his palms. “Don’t think that’s your fault, Harrington.”

“You’re not a klutz, dumbass, but you do probably have a concussion…” Steve snarks back, and Eddie feels the mattress sink beside him, “Though I don’t know, maybe you always pass out in the shower?” 

Eddie can’t help but laugh. He scrubs his face a couple more times, then drops his hands “Only in the showers of my own personal saviors.”

He swears Steve’s face tinges pink at that, “Well aren’t I a lucky guy.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m dressed, and last time I remember, I wasn’t..” Steve’s face is blazing red now. “I think you must be, if you got a look at the goods.”

He waggles his eyebrows teasingly when Steve glances up at him, “Shut up man, I didn’t look at your junk any more than I had to.”

Eddie sputters at that, “How much looking is in your definition of ‘had to’?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “You passed out in my shower man, I had to get you out didn’t I? And I’m not about to leave you cold and wet so..I wrapped you up in a towel and got you up here.” he gestures to the bed, “Got you dressed and under the covers so you could sleep somewhat comfy while I made you something to eat.”

Eddie continues to eye him suspiciously, “So you got into my pants and then got them on me? That seems backwards…and sounds kinda fishy, Steven.”

“Oh my god..” Steve throws his head back in exasperation and scrubs his own face with his hands. “I got your pants on while you were still wrapped up in the towel, asshole, now do you want something to eat or not?”

“Wow…the kiss of life, a personal scrubdown (“I didn’t scrub you down!”), and now I get breakfast in bed? If I’m dreamin’, don’t wake me up.”

“Your dreams include getting concussed and passing out?”

Eddie shrugs, “To be fair, there’s usually less clothes and more making out, but I’m holding out hope.” He waggles his eyebrows again and Steve’s face flushes red, scoffing lightly 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He feigns being shot in the chest, hamming it up and falling limp further into the pillows, “You wound me Steven, am I to be laid up for the rest of my days? Does his royal highness not believe in true love’s kiss?”

“I’ve already kissed you once, dumbass, Is that not enough for you?”

“It musn’t be, for my head and heart still ache!” he continues to bemoan, flailing a hand to his forehead. He’s honestly not quite sure why he’s still keeping up with the bit, painfully straight jocks like Steve don’t normally take well to his dramatics, and he’s not keen on getting punched right now.

But Steve doesn’t punch him. He laughs. 

He laughs and says “How ‘bout you eat something first, and if your head and heart still ache after that, I’ll give you a smooch.” Steve says, standing from the edge of the bed.

Eddie gawks at him, but allows himself to be helped up after his stomach growls loudly not a second later.

Steve walks down the stairs in front of him half-sideways in case he decides to pass out again, then helps him up onto a stool at the Harrington’s long kitchen island.

“I made eggs and toast, but I can get you something else if you like?”

Eddie’s stomach rolls at the thought of eggs, “Just toast, thanks.”

Steve nods, and passes over a plate with plain buttered toast stacked at least a half a loaf tall and a new glass of water. He takes a slice gratefully and munches on it slowly.

Suddenly, something clicks. “Wait, rewind, concussed? You think I might have a concussion?”

“You hit your head didn’t you?” he asks, rounding the counter with a plate of his own and perching on the stool next to him.

“Well yeah, but concussion?”

Steve shrugs, “I mean, I’m not 100 percent sure, but you definitely hit it pretty hard,” he gently pushes the hairs of Eddie’s right temple up and back, touching the fingers of his other hand to the knot he’d felt in the shower earlier.

“Sorry,” he says when Eddie winces, “There was a cut there too, but it wasn’t that deep so I cleaned it up and used a couple butterfly strips on it. Definitely looked worse than it was, but you said you didn’t remember what happened, that your head hurts, you’re dizzy, and I’m guessing the thought of eggs made you nauseous didn’t they?”

Eddie blinks at him once, twice, “I think I have a concussion.”

Steve barks out a laugh, tossing his head back with it. He looks back down at Eddie, still grinning, and time seems to freeze for a long moment.

Steve Harrington’s always been attractive, okay? And Eddie is only a man. The soft swoop of Steve’s hair, messy and flatter than he’s ever seen it in any normal circumstance, but it still looks good, the moles he can see scattered across his neck and arms and legs that Eddie’s always seen a big ol’ ‘KISS HERE’ over each, the relatively new softer smile he’d seen after Hargrove showed up and King Steve was tossed from his throne..

Eddie’s been so gone on Steve for so long already, and now he’s literally saved his life.

He never thought he’d ever want to be the damsel in distress, but now is, and he’s here, and Steve Harrington is his knight in shining armor.

It’s not just the possible concussion making his head swirl.

“Thanks, Steve.” he says, coming back to the present again–was he always this close? Do not look at his lips, Munson, stay focused. “Never thought this’d be how I’d ever be in your house though.”

Steve’s eyes flash to somewhere below his nose (‘Wait.. did he just–’), then he takes his hand away, dropping it back to his lap from where it was all but wrapped around the back of his skull. He didn’t even register that Steve was still holding him (‘Fuck!’).

“How d’ya think you’d ever be here then?” he asks, taking a large bite of runny egg.

“Oh y’know me, peddler of wares for any manner of frivolities my liege may hold.” He attempts to give Steve a bow, but gets dizzy almost as soon as his head tips forward.

Steve’s hands reach out to steady him, but drop when Eddie sits back up. “Yeah I didn’t get any of that.”

“Party favors, Steve-o, pills, ganja..all that fun stuff.” Eddie continues on at Steve’s understanding expression, “That’s what got me cuffed earlier.”

“Ah, so you do remember.”

“For the most part. They wouldn’t’ve even pulled me over if my tape hadn’t ended. I was trying to swap it out and ran a stop sign.”

Steve snorts, “What, did you try to bribe them with drugs?”

“I wish; that'd’ve been a much better story,” Eddie laughs, taking another bite of toast, “My stash fell out at Hopper’s feet when I got outta the van.”

Steve winces, “Bad break, dude. So what, you just decided to run? Why not before they cuffed you?”

“I dunno, man, I just bolted into the trees. Those old men couldn’t’ve caught me if they tried.”

“So you got pulled over, got cuffed for having drugs in your car, evaded capture by running through the woods in the dark, fell into my pool shoulder first,”

“Well I rolled into it, actually. I tripped on your patio, couldn’t catch myself on my hands, obviously, so I fell onto my shoulder first and kinda skidded slash rolled into the pool. Must’ve hit my head then too.”

Steve winces again, “That’s why the “Sorry” earlier.. I saw that blood on the lining and I didn’t even check where you could be bleeding.” He shakes his head in disappointment, “I shouldn’t’ve put you into the shower like that, it’s not good for you. And I know my way around a head injury.” Steve mutters.

“Sportsball will do that to you.” Eddie nods, grabbing a second slice of toast.

“It wasn’t basket–” he sighs, “Nevermind, is there someone you need to call or anything?”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. “Trying to be rid of me already, Harrington?”

Steve waves him off, “Nah. Your clothes are still in the dryer.” he says, standing up and passing around the island to the far counter where a phone book lays open. He picks it up and brings it back to Eddie, “I looked up Munson in case someone would be wondering where you are, but the only Munson here didn’t answer. A Wayne Munson?”

“My uncle,” Eddie explains, “He wouldn’t, not at this time of day. He’s already at the plant for the night.”

“Ah.”

“You can just give me a ride home, we stashed a key on the porch.” he tries to stand, pushing through the dizziness.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re staying right here, Munson. That’s an order.”

Eddie sinks back into his seat.

“Concussions are tricky, you know; You have to check on the person periodically while they sleep to make sure they’re not getting worse. If there’s not going to be anyone at home with you, you’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.” Eddie gives him a two fingered salute, and relishes in the feeling of making Steve smile again. 

-🍦-

It was easier than he thought it'd be to convince Eddie to get back to bed, this time in the guest room across from Steve’s own bedroom.

He’d thought the surprisingly charming weirdo (he was apparently already smitten with) would fight him on it, but he’d followed him back upstairs without complaint after a third slice of toast, though he had gotten a bit woozy about 2/3rds of the way back up.

“What, no smooch? I have to settle for common drugs?” Eddie grumbles as Steve shakes a couple Tylenol into his palm. Steve just rolls his eyes, ignoring him (and the giant swoop of his stomach), “I’ll be up for a little while longer, I have to get your shit outta the dryer and get ready for work tomorrow, so I’ll wake you up before I go to bed and wake you up again in the middle of the night.”

Eddie takes the offered glass of water from him, gulping down the pain meds, “I’m gonna be super grouchy at you, you know.”

Steve smirks at him, “I know, but it’s gotta be done.” He takes back the glass and sets it on the nightstand. 

Eddie’d nodded through a long cracking yawn, smiled, then murmured a light “G’night Stevie.” that made Steve’s heart squeeze.

“‘Night Eds, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Steve, however, did not get to sleep as easily, lying awake in his room after waking Eddie the first time. 

He set his watch to wake him in three hours to check on Eddie again, and he’d already wasted a good half of it staring at his ceiling and thinking in circles about everything that had happened, everything he’d felt and thought about the town freak sleeping across the hall.

He’d started with gathering all of it up and trying to cram it away to some corner of his head and leave it there, lock it away from even himself, but to no avail. The…he supposed you could call them feelings...for Eddie had grown much too big already for any one of the lock boxes in the back of his brain.

Then he’d tried to rationalize them again like he had at first. Tommy had told him, very confidently, that everyone has gay thoughts sometimes, it’s normal to realize when a guy is just objectively attractive. To realize you’d totally hit that if you had the chance. 

Harrison Ford was the first person Steve’d brought up during that conversation, and Tommy agreed. So that was it, Eddie Munson was just the same as Harrison Ford. He’d definitely sleep with Eddie if there was ever a chance.

And was there? There’d always been rumors about Munson, at least since Steve’d started at Hawkins High, maybe even before, but were they true? How would he even ask that? “Hey Eddie, heard you might be..y’know..into guys and I think I might be too. Do you maybe wanna do something about that? Together?”

Yeah. Not likely.

And Eddie hasn’t looked at him any different than he ever had before, at least not in the handful of times he’s caught the older teen looking at him across the cafeteria or from down the hall.

Should he just..start flirting and hope for the best? What if he doesn’t like it and decks him for it?

Steve scrubs his face again, this is so much easier with girls.

…And that’s another thing, what about girls? He still likes girls. A lot, actually. So is he even allowed to like Eddie? He reasons it’s at least possible to because he does like Eddie. Wants to date him too, but that’s definitely not allowed.

He’s no closer to figuring out what he’s supposed to do when his watch beeps to life again.

Sighing, he throws his covers off, stands up, and sneaks across the hall to Eddie’s room.

“Eddie..hey! Eddie!” Steve whispers, gently shaking him awake. Eddie’s bangs are sticking straight out from his forehead, the rest of his hair fanned out in a mess below his head, his morning breath already starting to form…how can this be so damn attractive?

“Mmm…Hm?” Eddie’s eyes squint against the low light filtering in from the hallway, “Steve?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Is your head feeling better?”

Eddie sinks back onto his pillow and lets his eyes fall shut again. “Uhm, it hurts, but less than it did earlier.”

“Good, that’s good.” A split moment of bravery comes over him then. “How about your heart?”

“Still aches,” He slurs sleepily in response.

Steve’s bravery and Eddie’s wakefulness fade with each second, so before they’re both gone, Steve leans forward and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “See you in the morning, Eds.”

-🎸-

When Eddie wakes up the final time the next morning, it’s on his own and from an amazing dream involving an epic battle, injuries, and a healing kiss pressed to his forehead by a soft-haired paladin.

He sits up, already significantly less dizzy than he’d been last night, and chugs down the glass of water Steve must’ve left last time he was up here. 

He gets dressed slowly, grabbing his freshly de-chlorinated Iron Maiden tee and trusty black jeans from the neatly folded pile on the nightstand. 

He’s wondering where his jacket and vest are when the sweet smell of breakfast hits him, “Oh, fuck yeah,” he says aloud to himself like a loser.

Eddie pulls on his socks, mismatched but bundled together anyhow, and steps out into the hall.

Steve’s voice filters up the stairs with a mouthwatering buttermilk smell, “Good morning Mr. Munson, I’m sorry if I woke you.”

What time is it anyway? Eddie winces internally on Steve’s behalf if it’s anytime past 8. 

“My name is Steve Harrington, sir, and I—” Steve sighs, “Yes sir, that Harrington.”

Eddie actually winces this time, halfway down the stairs now.

“No, no no, of course not, no trouble at all Mr. Munson, I’m calling because of Eddie.”

Oof, nope, that’s not gonna help ya, Stevie.

“I didn’t—no, not complaining about—no, he got hurt an–”

Eddie can hear Wayne’s voice through the phone now, even from where he’s stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think he might have a concussion and—no, no! I wanted to let you know so you can—”

He decides to save Steve from the Wrath of Wayne and walks around the corner into the kitchen. He holds his hand out for the receiver, and Steve gratefully passes it over, turning back to his waffle maker (a whole-ass waffle maker! Lucky sonofabitch…).

“--And if you don’ tell me righ’ this minute how he got hurt–”

“Calm down, old man, I’m fine. Though I think Steve would’ve denied me waffles if you went on any longer.”

“Theodore Munson, you tell me what’s goin’ on right this second.”

“Whoa! Full name privileges are revoked for you,” He jokes, unable to resist riling up his uncle more. He pulls the cord around the corner and back into the hall, “Wayne, seriously, I’m fine. I just fell into Harrington’s pool a little. No big deal.”

“No big deal huh? Why’n the hell were you concussed in Loch Nora?”

“It’s a long story, but short version is I fell into Harrington’s pool and smacked my head. Steve made sure I was okay, and,” he cringes, “and Hopper might show up on our doorstep in the next couple hours.”

Wayne heaves a long sigh, “Goddammit, boy.”

“It’s all good, I’ll be home soon. I’m gonna pilfer some breakfast and get Steve to drive me home.”

“Wait, wha’happened t’yer van?”

“Okay, bye Wayne! See you soon!”

“Theodore Wayn—”

He breathes a sigh of relief when the phone is back on its cradle.

“Your uncle is scary, man.”

Eddie turns back to Steve’s voice, sitting on the same stool he did last night. Steve passes him a plate with two large golden brown waffles.

“Nah, he’s a big softy. He just worries ‘bout me.” he picks up his fork, digging into the fluffy waffles. They are unfairly good. “Thanks for breakfast, Steve, this is great!”

“You’re welcome man, y’want strawberries?”

They eat quickly, it was later than Eddie thought and Steve has the opening shift at his new-ish job at Starcourt’s ice cream parlor.

“Oh, um.. Ice cream’s good, right?”

Steve grimaces, “I feel like it’ll be very not good after this summer. Plus I have a dumb uniform I have to wear.” he gestures to the backpack he’d grabbed on their way out and tossed in the backseat.

They’re in Steve’s BMW now; his shoes and vest are still kinda damp and he’s gonna have to re-condition his leather jacket after the damn chlorine got to it, but that’s a problem for Future Eddie. “No college for you then? I honestly figured you’d be outta here as soon as you walked across that stage.” 

“I uh, didn’t get in.” Steve says, “Dad decided I should get a job at Scoops to teach me a lesson or something. As if I didn’t feel bad about not living up to his expectations enough already.”

Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say to that, but his silence seems to make Steve nervous. “It’s whatever though, I shouldn’t be dumping this all on you, sorry.”

“Hey man, it’s cool, sounds like King Harrington of Hawkins expected a lot of the Prince.” They’re turning into the Forest Hills trailer park now; Eddie has a fleeting thought about how he’s finally made it to where he’d been heading last night, and something about how a twist of fate (of feet?) diverted him to a whole new course he hadn’t expected, but was glad had happened.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, don’t think he appreciated the Prince parading around pretending to be King prematurely, huh?”

Eddie grins at him as the wheels crunch on the gravel pad outside his home. “A savior and a Prince is better than a King any day.”

He gets a grin in return, then it falls slightly as he glances up at the trailer. “Well, here you are, Munson. It was, uh, weird? But nice to meet you…Officially, anyway” he tacks onto the end, “Just don’t accidentally fall into my pool again.”

“Hmm, I dunno Stevie, it was nice to be pampered.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle up again when he laughs, “How would you rate your visit to Casa Harrington, sir? On a scale of four to five stars?”

“Hmmm.. probably a 4.7 out of five.”

“4.7?! Ouch Eds, that hurts.” Steve clutches a hand to his chest, “After all the waffles and wakeup calls,”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those wakeup calls.”

“4.7…” he mutters again, shaking his head, “What would’ve given me a full five then?”

“Well you gotta lay off the wakeup calls for starters,” Eddie says, starting to count on his fingers, “More options for toppings at your waffle breakfast bar,”

“You had strawberries and chocolate syrup! What more do you need?!”

Eddie continues on as if he hadn’t heard him. “There was no lifeguard on duty, my towels weren’t warmed up for me, I believe I was promised a True Love’s kiss at some point and never got it, the concierge antagonized my uncle—”

He’s interrupted from his rant by a quick press of something to the corner of his mouth.

He whips his head around and Steve’s face is mere inches from his. There’s a blush high on his cheeks, his eyes are wide (and they’re hazel, how’d he not know that?!), “Did you just—”

“Eddie! Get your ass up here, now.” Wayne calls from the porch, causing them both to jump.

“Better get goin’ Eds.” Steve whispers, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, I–” he glances down at Steve’s lips, he has a few seconds, right? Enough time to—

“Eddie!” Nope.

His eyes stay trained on Steve’s nervous expression while his hand scrambles for the handle. He finally finds it, all but spills out of the car, and closes the door behind him once he’s out fully.

Without any more preamble, Steve backs out of their driveway, and leaves the park.

-🍦-

Steve doesn’t see Eddie for a couple weeks, wasn’t even sure Eddie would want to see him again after that stupid move he pulled, but when he finally does, it’s just before closing on a random Wednesday at Scoops.

“You missed, Harrington!” Eddie calls from the entrance to Scoops. He sounds like he’s out of breath.

“Eddie?”

“You missed!” he walks forward at a normal speed, despite seeming like he’d rushed to get here. He’s also shaking his finger at him, chiding.

“Where’ve you been, man?”

“Had to take care of the whole ‘evading arrest’ thing, but that’s not important. You missed Stevie.”

“Stevie?” he hears Robin mutter in disbelief.

“Missed what? I mean, yeah, I missed you too man, but what—?”

He’s cut off when Eddie finally reaches the counter, grabs his face in both hands, and kisses him square on the mouth.

Robin yelps in surprise, but that is the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. 

Eddie’s lips are chapped, but they slot along Steve’s so easy it makes his head spin.

After forever and no time at all, Eddie pulls back, dropping back to his side of the counter. “There. A real lips to lips kiss. None of that sly cheek shit, Harrington.”

Steve’s still a bit dazed, “Much better than the first one.” He leans closer to Eddie again, lips searching, but he’s held still.

“Whattya mean, ‘the first one’?”

It clears his head a bit, “Uh, the one where I saved your life? Obviously.”

“That doesn’t count!” Eddie’s hands leave his face, and he misses them already.

“It was lips to lips! Isn’t that what you just said?”

“It was CPR, Steven!”

“I can count it as our first kiss if I want to, Edward.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest.

“My name’s not Edwa—”

The long squeal of marker-on-whiteboard cuts him off, and he immediately flushes red.

Oh yeah, Robin…aw fuck.

He turns slowly to the window behind the counter; a single tally mark has been drawn into the left side of Robin’s YOU RULE / YOU SUCK board.

She caps the marker, sets it down, smirks, and says “Congratulations, Dingus.”

this is also on AO3!

tagging a few of the people in the tags of the original who seemed interested in more! hope that's okay!!!

@inthewychelm @tboyeddie @brbsoulnomming @henderdads @ajs624 @sleepy-steve @eddiesdoeeyes @steddie-island @themeanderingty @hammity-hammer @spicysix @steddieasitgoes @willowworkswithwords @farahsamboolents @shares-a-vest @klausinamarink @fortheloveofgodletmein @sharpbutsoft @perseus-notjackson @zombiethingy @tchackdaw @eddiethehunted @smoothiecas @donttellunclesam @allyricas @living-force @xandriumbat @himbosandhardwear @everything-is-the-answer @sidebarre @m-owo-n @warmsole @occasionaloverboy @whoopssteddiefeels @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @extra-transitional @cecil5683 @makeadealwithdean @huymadovan

[dovveri]

hickeys and swimsuits

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 ▸ part 2 ▸ part 4 ▸ part 5 ▸ part 6 ▸ part 7

synposis: day 3 on the set of the bachelorette and y/n has to deal with sleeping with her best friend, a messy group date, and a tender evening.

warnings: teensy bit of smut (a quickie in the bathroom), allude to sexual harassment

w/c: 7.7k

a/n: can you tell i dislike suju? you’ll probably be able to after this LOL

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the decision to leave or stay if you’re the first one awake after a one night stand will always be unnecessarily difficult. luckily, or maybe not depending on how you look at it, sana’s grip on you would not allow for you to escape anytime soon so you let yourself be held, your head resting on top of hers, arms thrown lazily over her side.

you’re not really sure what came over you last night. after she had kissed you, you felt a need to finish what she started. you didn’t regret it though, but you were still yet to unentangle your feelings for her and what this meant for the both of you. if it even meant anything at all, it would be easy to brush it off as a spur of the moment decision built on pent up anger and lust from being untouched for so long. at least for you anyway, you weren’t sure when the last time sana slept with someone was, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it was with jihyo, she wasn’t really one for sleeping with people without knowing them first. but maybe you were wrong, you were learning so much more about her in these last two days than you have in years of knowing her.

you’re a little unnerved thinking about the amount of people sana has slept with. taking slight satisfaction in the purple marks that littered her neck, and the rest of her body knowing that you were the reason for them.

sana’s eyes slowly flutter open as you’re tracing one of these marks and she yawns, stretching with an adorable mewl and collapsing back into you.

“mmorning.” she mumbles into your chest, voice deep and laden with sleep and you can’t help but find it unbelievably attractive.

you brush your fingers through her hair, sorting through her knots. “morning…”

you lie there for a few moments, daring each other to speak first.

she’s the one who breaks the silence, always the one with more initiative, proven last night by kissing you first, “so……… should we talk about this?”

you hum, “if you’re ready for it.”

she whines against you, lightly hitting your chest, “stop that. i wanna know what you think without deflecting to me.”

you chuckle, “sorry, but yeah it’d probably be good to talk about it. i guess we can start with, um… well did you… regret it?” you can’t help the way your heart rate picks up, maybe you weren’t really ready to brush this off as a one time thing after all.

she places a hand over your chest, right where your heart would be, looking up at you with those eyes that you could drown in, “no. i don’t regret it. do you?”

you smile at her, thankful for the reassurance she offers, “no, i don’t either.”

she smiles back at you, her fingers drumming lightly over your heart, “is this… like… what does this mean for us? because i don’t want anything to change between us, i care about you too much to lose you as my best friend.”

you frown, “i care about you too… i mean… i don’t really know, like you’re still the bachelorette of the country right now like… how do you feel about that?”

“i’m enjoying getting to know these people. some of them really do have potential i think. this timing just kinda sucks huh?”

your heart drops a little at her honesty. you start thinking maybe its time to be a little honest to yourself.

“it does but that doesn’t mean i wanna just ignore this happened sana. i don’t think…” you sigh, thoughts all muddled and on the tip of your tongue.

her hand is trailing patterns up and down your bare back, looking at you with wide eyes. you would do anything to keep that face happy.

“you’re right. the timing does kinda suck. i guess we can just… keep this casual? assuming you want this to happen again?”

she nods, but an expression washes over her face that you can’t really decipher. “alright. casual. we can do that. just like, when we need a little stress relief or whatever.”

you nod, “and it’s just temporary until like you find your person here. wouldn’t want you to be sexually frustrated or pent up or anything and make decisions based on who you wanna fuck most right?”

“right! so you’re doing me an even bigger favour right now!”

“yep!”

you’re both laying there awkward now, talking in circles convincing yourself this was a good idea.

a loud knock comes at the door, and you’re both jumping, splitting to opposite sides of the bed. you look at each other a little awkwardly, you let out a small chuckle before getting up and pulling some clothes on haphazardly and answering the door.

it's one of the costume designers, "oh! y/n! sorry i didn't know you were in there, is sana around? it's time to get changed and start the filming for today."

you hum and let the woman in with her entourage of makeup and hair stylists.

but then one of the makeup artists quickly gasps as sana reveals her neck.

you turn around and blush, sana's still naked as the day she was born, there was no reason to put on clothes when she was going to get changed into new ones anyway, her blanket falling to her waist exposing the carnage that was the evidence of last night's activities.

the people in the room look awkwardly between the two of you, and you clear your throat and walk out, giving them some privacy, your head bowed and beet red as you make your way to the kitchen.

you dimly heard some scolding from the makeup artists, but thankfully no one came after you to tell you off or anything. hopefully the design team could keep this little secret under wraps, although you could hear the gossip and rumours going around already. you'd have to be more careful going forward.

sana's got an individual date first on the schedule today. so you decide to head over to the contestants' living area after you finish your breakfast and get dressed.

the drive over is short and you enjoy the light breeze from the slightly open window. you remember the slip of paper miyeon slipped you last night, pulling it out of your pocket and typing the digits into your phone.

you're not sure what the first message you should send her is. you're hit with the sudden realisation that outside of this show she was a literal model, she probably had thousands of followers and a life of her own with friends far above your social standing.

but she wouldn't give you her number only for you to discard it right? whatever, this wasn't anything to overthink, and you wanted to check in on how miyeon was doing anyway, you quickly type out a message and hit send.

y/n: hi this is y/n - how are you? settling back in at home okay? lmk if u ever want a chat or anything i'm here <3

you're surprised at her quick reply.

miyeon: hi y/n! it's good to hear from you. yeah honestly had the best night's sleep in so long, living in the mansion with all the others is fine and all but sharing rooms with sanghee was so not. that girl did not know how to clean up after herself and had the worst sleep schedule

you laugh a little at her antics.

y/n: right forgot you were kinda prissy. dunno if i feel bad for sanghee or you

miyeon: hey!!! i am NOT prissy! idc what ppl say abt beauty sleep and whatnot but you DO need it! proper quality sleep has been proven to improve skin, regulate emotions, and keep your brain sharp! it's a really important part of the day!

y/n: yeah yeah yeah i'm rolling my eyes btw since you can't see. but im glad ur feeling better rested miyeon, its gonna be real weird without you here now

miyeon: hey u got this. and im only a text or call away if u want a break from everything going on inside, ik how crazy it gets in there so having some outside perspective can be good for you

y/n: and im really grateful for that. thankyou miyeon <3 r u gonna watch the screening of last night's ep later?

miyeon: u mean do i wanna watch myself get eliminated? i think ill pass on that thx 😂 but the contestants always watch it tgt if u wanna join them - good to have some ppl to watch along with especially since its pretty jarring seeing everyone on the big screen and how things r all edited tgt. and seeing sana may come as a shock to u too u never know

y/n: yeah ur right im actually headed there rn since sana's going on a solo date and i have nothing better to do soo... also oopsies spoiler alert but ur not gonna leak anything to the media right ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

miyeon: who knows... call me prissy one more time and ur name's gonna be on the national headlines tmr fr ;P

y/n: u wouldnt!

miyeon: i would. jks ofc i wouldn't but since ur going to the mansion anyway make sure to talk to shindong and siwon and their whole boys club. now that im out i can give u all the inside goss and if sana ends up with one of those dicks well...

y/n: oo tyty ill be sure to keep that in mind

miyeon: ofc y/n rmbr anything u need we're friends yeah? don't be a stranger :)

y/n: thanks miyeon i rly do appreciate it! talk later :))

you turn off your phone, happy that miyeon was just as receptive and positive in the real world as she was when you were together. you had nothing to worry about after all.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the house is in complete mayhem as you step inside. apparently someone had accidentally set off the fire alarms so everyone was already up and about and still mopping up wet patches here and there.

you spot jacky and eunji in the kitchen and make a beeline for them.

“-if you had just kept your pants on!-“

“no don’t blame this on me you know very well that i need to air dry or i’m gonna get sick and i won’t be able to perform-“

you clear your throat interrupting their… certainly intriguing conversation.

“y/n! please tell eunji it is perfectly normal to air dry after a shower.”

“not when you’re living with 15 other people!”

“i’ve lived with more than that back home and they didn’t have a problem with it!”

“because you australians are always half naked for some reason or another anyway. but you can't pull that shit here!”

jacky rolls his eyes and goes back to flipping the eggs he’s got in a pan, no doubt making lunch for the them and the rest of the contestants.

“have you eaten yet y/n? there was a bit of an accident this morning so the kitchen’s been off limits until now.”

“oh yeah i ate before i came here, thanks though. how are you guys today?”

they share a glance, “i think you’re the one who should be answering that question. heard sana made you go home after the stunt you pulled last night.”

with everything that happened you’d almost forgotten how the night actually ended for most of the other contestants.

“oh right!" you laugh a little awkwardly, "we made up so everything’s all good now. i’ll probably be laying off the alcohol for the rest of these rose ceremonies though…”

“awwwh but you’re the only one who can keep up with me! all the other guys here tap out soo early and none of the girls want to drink.”

you laugh, grabbing some plates to help jacky and eunji plate up the food they’ve prepared.

jacky’s yelling at everyone to come get their food and you follow along, greeting everyone and moving towards the couch where they were setting up to watch last night’s episode of the bachelorette along with the rest of the country. it was being aired earlier in the day today because it was the weekend and the highest stream counts for the weekends would be at this time.

you slot yourself in next to jiwon who offers a kind smile, the complete opposite of the stink eye you feel heechul giving the back of your head after you’d essentially tried to get him eliminated last night.

jun is setting up the tv and when everything’s ready he rushes back over and plops himself down on the other side of you, throwing an arm over your shoulder in a friendly greeting and looking back to heechul and the boys club as miyeon called them, flipping them off with a tongue sticking out in defense of you. you laugh with him as heechul sputters and the episode starts playing.

most of it you had already seen, although you got to hear a bit more of sana and jiwon’s conversation during the childcare group date after you’d left, as well as her conversations with the other contestants on that date. she seemed to get along with everyone there, and the kids were a good conversation sparker, sana had picked a good bunch for the first group date. the camera spent most of its time following her around as you’d expect, but it included a couple comedic clips of the others being terrible with kids. you’re all laughing and teasing each other when you see dae fall into a pit of mud after a purposeful ploy from the kids, and aww and coo when jiwon finally lies them all to rest during their afternoon nap.

the episode also includes a few cuts to the contestants in the mansion, the ones who weren't picked for the group date, so you get to see a little of how they function as a house as well.

then comes the solo date.

everyone's a little curious at what wonsik did to woo sana to get him that first impression rose from the first night. he's still just as shy and awkward as you remember from your first few interactions with him on the first night, not that that isn't what sana likes, she just usually goes for the louder, boisterous types, especially on a first impression since those are the ones that draw people's attention around them.

the date was just as extravagant as the producers said it would be. they definitely spared no expense, and from the stats you overheard them talking about, this season of the bachelorette was definitely hyping up to be the most successful season so far, it had even gained international attention for its unique approach.

after sana and wonsik's helicopter ride overlooking the valley, they were situated in a beautiful dip in the valley, overlooking lush green fields with a soft breeze and the sunset in the background.

admittedly it was cute watching them play board games and feed each other small fruits, and apparently wonsik was a much better conversationalist when he was in one-on-one situations, even cracking a few jokes that had you and the rest of the watchers laughing.

you couldn't help the pit of jealousy growing in your stomach though. you could finally realise what it was and call it jealousy but it was probably just because you were more involved with sana than ever now and you weren't good with the whole non-exclusive thing. it would take some time getting used to for sure.

but your jaw clenches when suddenly, screen-wonsik is kissing sana.

everyone in the room starts whooping and clapping wonsik on the back. you can hear the mc voice-over talking about how this was the first kiss of the season and that wonsik was a lucky guy to be getting in so early but you drown everything out as you watch the camera zoom in romantically, hyperfixated on the way sana's lips reacted against his.

he's got a hand at her waist, shuffling in closer and she has a hand carding into his hair, your eye twitches when you think you see a hint of a pink tongue dipping in.

he's laying her down and crawling on top of her on the picnic mat and it feels way too intimate for national television and you couldn't hear the sounds she could be making but you sure as hell can imagine the soft whimpers and gasps because she was making those sounds for you just hours after what was happening on the screen right now.

finally the camera pans away to a long shot of the two of them against the backdrop of the sunset and the valley and cuts to another scene of the mansion contestants but the liplock seemed to never end, even after the camera stopped shooting.

wonsik looks terribly embarassed when you turn to where all the commotion is behind you, people congratulating him on how his date went, asking for any more details that the editing could have left out, some looking on in jealousy, and some looking a little sad.

everyone's attention is shifted however when momo walks in through the door, back from her solo date with sana this morning.

all of a sudden, people are rushing towards her, asking how her date went, what they did, whether or not they kissed, poor momo looks very overwhelmed but she's not entirely focused, looking behind her and smiling.

and then again, the attention shifts, sana walking in with a bright smile, in casual clothes and jeans, waving a bright greeting at everyone.

you're still sat exactly where you are, emotions festering up inside of you.

"wow it's crazy to be here during the day! hey guys! just dropping off momo and checking in on how everyone's doing."

the excitement of the morning culminates, and it’s almost like a rose ceremony again, with everyone vying for sana's attention, wanting to show her around, leading her out towards the gardens, talking and chattering eagerly.

eventually, you're left inside with momo, who offers a polite wave, sitting down across from you, wonsik, who was too shy to join everyone on the tour of the house, and heechul, siwon, shindong, and seungri, the 'boys club'.

seungri's laughing boisterously, congratulating wonsik on his date with sana.

"congrats man. wouldn't have known you had it in you. did you guys get up to anything else?" he's wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. you're disgusted.

"n-no. she pushed me off pretty much as soon as the camera cut away."

"aww really? cockblock much?" shindong's snickering along.

heechul's shuffling a little closer to momo, "how about you momo? how was your date? you didn't miss that much by the way, wonsik and sana kissed yesterday on the date, that's when you walked in." he tries to offer her a kind smile, but you notice the way she's cringing, moving a little closer towards you.

"it was good. we went to a dog shelter which was really sweet of her since she knows i love them and i've been missing my two dogs back home. even had my allergy meds ready because i didn't know what we'd be doing today, shows she really listens."

you smile at momo's response, glad to hear their date went well and your heart warming learning about sana's actions.

the boys had stopped listening halfway through, going back to teasing wonsik so it was really just you and momo talking.

"yeah we also got to talking a lot since we're both from japan and all. it was really nice to be with someone who understood what it felt like to move here and be homesick, it was also the first time in a long time that i had spoken to someone in japanese that wasn't my family so it was pretty funny, well at least for her, to watch me make an absolute fool of myself stumbling over basic words and phrases."

you're laughing, knowing how much sana cares about her heritage, you were glad momo was here to be able to share that with her, you were firsthand witness to some of sana's homesickness bouts and you knew having a sense of a home away from home was extremely valuable.

"oh?" heechul butts into the conversation again, "nico nico nii~! momo-chan wa onii-chan de yonde mo ii-yo~" (t: momo you can call me big brother)

you and momo both stare at heechul for a few seconds in silence, trying to decipher what the fuck you just saw with your bare eyes, before bursting into laughter.

he looks confused, breaking his cutesy character pose and pouting and whining, "what! did i say it wrong?"

you're wiping tears off the side of your eyes, "what the fuck kinda hentai have you been watching to learn that shit heechul-"

momo's still laughing, her nose scrunching cutely, "no like! i get the nico thing like that was huge in japan like in 2015- still weird as fuck to see a grown man doing it ten years later though-"

you're both laughing between words, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the house who are rounding out back towards the living room after finishing the house tour.

sana looks curious as she's led over, "momoring, what's so funny?"

momo's turning and grinning at the sight of sana, pulling on her arm and leading her in front of heechul, "heechul do it again! for sana pleaseeeee-" she turns on the extra charm, hitting him with a final, "onegai~?" and you can see the imaginary nosebleed he gets from the action, the type that's edited into animes.

so he puts his hands up, fingers placed in the signature nico position, "nico nico nii~! sana-chan wa onii-chan de yonde mo ii-yo~"

the repeat of his absolutely embarrassing gesture sends both you and momo into another fit of laughter, clutching onto each other in weakness.

sana's face goes red and she looks to be supressing her own laughter, but she gives in eventually, letting out a loud bark and slapping momo on the back with her hand, the other hand over her mouth.

some others laugh as well, whether at the cutesy action heechul pulled, or from understanding what onii-chan meant and putting two and two together.

heechul just stands there looking awfully proud of himself for being the 'funny' guy for once.

eventually, a producer walks in, tapping sana and sliding an envelope into her hand, and gestures for all the participants to sit down.

sana clears her throat, still giggling a little as she moves towards the front of the room, "well thankyou everyone for the tour of your lovely place. i hope you all enjoy the rest of your stay here. i've got this envelope in my hand now, with the names of the next group date we'll be going on." she waves the envelope around a little, and everyone plays their part, ooh-ing and waiting in anticipation, "8 people here will be helping me out with the iconic photoshoot date!"

all the participants look around excitedly, the photoshoot date was always a fan-favourite, and it always made an appearance on every bachelor episode, usually with a few group photo shoots and always with a one-on-one photoshoot that's super romantic and revered after.

sana lets the anticipation and excitement settle in, before dramatically pulling out the piece of paper within the envelope, unfolding it, and beginning to read out names, "sunwoo."

sunwoo stands up with a smile, moving over towards sana at the usher of the producers' hands, sana returns the smile.

"eunha." a short girl with a bubbly personality skips over.

"onii-chan~" sana teasingly drags out the word and you stifle a few laughs with momo as heechul beams and stalks forward.

"siwon, shindong, seungri, nayeon."

they all stand up and walk over, you notice sana has picked people that haven't been on a date yet.

"and... wonsik!"'

there's a bit of a stunned silence across the room as wonsik gets up and approaches sana, kissing her on the cheek and taking his place next to her.

wonsik was the only person in that lineup that had already had extended one-on-one time with sana, when some others like jihyo, (although you didn't really mind much that jihyo hasn't been picked for anything yet), hadn't had the opportunity for any time outside of this mansion. so it did seem a little unfair.

you feel your earlier emotions returning to you, the incredulity of heechul's actions completely forgotten as you think back to the full-blown make out session you, along with the rest of the nation had witnessed only an hour ago.

sana's giving a few general closing remarks, telling the chosen group date members what they need to prepare, and saying she'll be waiting for them out front once they're done gathering their things.

you can tell the mood's been a bit sullied as the chosen contestants rush up towards their rooms to change and get ready, the leftover participants left sitting on their hands with nothing to do for the rest of the day.

you say your quick goodbyes, heading off after sana since you would be tagging along on this date as usual.

once you see her though, something comes over you, the heavy, yucky emotions boiling up, and you pull on her arm, a little roughly, and drag her to the nearest bathroom.

"y/n?! what-"

you shut her up, pinning her against the door, locking it and connecting your lips frantically.

she gasps into you, but melts almost immediately, kissing you back with the same amount of intensity.

your tongue peeks out, swiping lightly across her bottom lip, she gasps, and you take the opportunity to gently prod your tongue into her mouth. her tongue comes up to meet yours and she moans when they touch, her hands coming up to grip onto your shoulders.

you're reminded of the fact that someone else was fortunate enough to hear these sounds yesterday.

and you despise it. snarling slightly, you break away, leaning down to kiss along her jawline, "you moan like that for him too hmm?"

she's breathless and confused, her mind muddled with the sudden attack, "w-what? who? huh?" she cuts herself off with another moan as you find the sensitive spot behind her ear that you discovered last night.

"you know- shy little wonsik." you take an earlobe between your teeth, spitting out the name, hands starting to move, grasping her waist, thumbing the bottom of her shirt.

"w-what? n-no- ah! no i-"

"no? you sure you're not lying? looked like you had a good time with him yesterday." you're moving back towards her neck, a hand dipping underneath her shirt and feeling the warm skin of her stomach and inching upwards.

"no what? y/n- fuck-" you're sucking at the sensitive skin on her neck now, "w-wait no y/n- d-don't- no marks-"

you're snarling again, "what? can't have wonsik or the others know you're already being taken care of?" you respect her wishes though, backing off but dropping onto your knees, pushing up her top and kissing her stomach. "fine. i'm marking you up here though. and you're not gonna tell me off this time because no-one-" you suck, "gets to see this much of you right?" biting lightly, "just me hmm?" licking along your newly formed hickey.

she's got her hands in your hair now, lightly pulling in the perfect way, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she tries to keep quiet, eyes heavy-lidded and glossed over, looking down at you with an expression you just want to devour.

so you move back up, capturing her lips once again as she moans, subtly grinding her hips against you, gasping when your hand makes its way to her left breast, kneading softly over her bra.

a tweak of the nipple and she's a whimpering mess around you, pleading, "fuck fuck y/n please-"

you tut, "you think we have enough time baby?" you're other hand that's not teasing her chest undoes the button on her jeans. "the others could be outside waiting for you right now on the other side of this door."

"please! y-yes yes we have enough time just touch me i'm- fuck- soaked already it won't take much- please-"

you undo her jeans with ease, slipping your hand into her underwear, the other one still kneading and groping her chest.

"mm you are soaked baby." you trace down her center, "were you like this yesterday when he was kissing you?" you find her clit and rub, a little harsher than the way she likes but she leaks onto you at the action.

"n-no stop- ugh- stop talking about him y/n what the fuck-"

you continue your assault on her clit, your other hand sliding under her bra and pinching a nipple as she jolts into you, "get used to it. you're the nation's sweetheart right now. you and him are all they're going to be talking about after that show you put on yesterday."

her head lolls back, hitting the door softly as she groans, "h-he doesn't get me like this though. only y-you do- fuck- please y/n please just fuck me."

you don't have much time to keep teasing her so you quickly push into her, cursing at the way she clenches around you immediately, all tight and hot and wet. you don't waste any time, thrusting in and out of her as her head comes back down, biting on your shoulder to keep her voice in.

"mm- mm- faster- baby please-"

you take in her request, plunging into her and adding another finger, in and out, in and out. the wet sounds of her pussy filling the bathroom, you don't have too much arm space to move with her jeans still in the way, but you make do, conscious that the both of you needed to look presentable very soon.

you're pretty much the only thing holding her up now, her legs having gave way a while ago, your hand moving out from under her shirt, holding her hips up and against the door as you thrust into her, thankful that the lack of space meant the door wasn't making too much noise.

you feel her getting tighter around you, bringing a thumb up to press against her clit, "this gets you off doesn't it-" you're slightly out of breath, "knowing just a few meters away the guy you kissed just hours before being fucked senseless by me is waiting for you for even the slightest chance he'll get to feel you tight and hot around him like you are around me right now."

she's mewling, her face still buried in your neck, becoming impossibly tighter again at your words.

"they can't do it like this. everytime you kiss one of them, you'll know you're coming back home to be fucked by me."

you punctuate the end of your sentence with a curl of your fingers inside her, hooking on as she cums with a muffled whine.

and just in time too, when a loud knock on the bathroom door jolts the both of you, you pull out quickly and help zip up her jeans again while she recovers.

"sana? everyone's ready and waiting for you now."

"c-coming!"

her voice is scratchy and shaky, still leaning onto you as you readjust her shirt and comb your fingers through her hair, trying to make her presentable again.

you smirk a little at her word choice, stifling a laugh as you fix her, but she catches you, sending a weak slap onto your shoulder.

you step back and look at her, she's still breathing slightly heavily but otherwise no real damage can be seen.

"okay you're good."

she sidesteps you to check herself in the mirror quickly, adjusting a little. "jeez y/n didn't think you'd become so much of a sex fiend when we said we'd keep it casual."

you roll your eyes, "hurry up your lovers are waiting for you." you wait for her to go out first though, following behind closely as you greet everyone again, a little thrilled at having to act as if nothing happened in the last 10 minutes between the living room and the car you're getting into right now.

sana's her usual smiley self around everyone, and you take glee in knowing that just minutes prior you were literally inside her and pulling noises out of her no one else here would be able to hear.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the group date was certainly shaping up to be one of the most interesting dates of the season.

right now, nayeon, sana, and eunha were learning a short dance number together. their whole set was dressing up as idols so instead of doing a photoshoot, they were going to shoot a small tiktok so it could be used as promotion for the show as well.

before them, sunwoo and sana had done a black-tie sort of concept where they were dressed in a long suit and flowing dress with masquerade masks on. it was all very mysterious and romantic. siwon was also in the set but he was acting as a butler, it was tradition to have photoshoot themes where one contestant was always trying to get in between the set couple, both for some drama and some comedic relief.

the next set involved all the boys stripping down for a beach theme. you had a hunch it was also just to increase the sex appeal of the show. sex sells after all.

and so, sana was put in a tiny bikini, and you had to run from her glare as the makeup artist gaped at the newly formed mark on her upper stomach. so much for no visible marks.

you rolled your eyes as the boys whooped and cheered as they watched sana enter the set. you scoff as almost all of their eyes went straight to either her chest or her ass.

nayeon and eunha come to stand next to you after they're finished changing out of their outfits to observe.

the photographer is telling them the directions for the first scene, sana was going to be lifted up onto seungri and sunwoo's shoulders, you can hear siwon whining and complaining about how sunwoo already had his almost solo photoshoot with her and it should be him.

no one pays him much mind though as seungri immediately goes for sana, lifting her up easily as she squeals in surprise, and settling her on one of his shoulders as sunwoo quickly steps in so sana's rested on his shoulder as well. you squint at the way seungri is looking up at sana.

"ugh that was so unnecessary." nayeon is glaring at them as well.

"right, the way he went at the first chance to grab her ass," eunha scoffs next to her as well, "trust seungri to be as gross as ever."

you raise an eyebrow at the two of them, "is this a common occurrence in the house?"

nayeon shrugs, "seungri's an ass. they all are. except for sunwoo maybe." you nod, noting the way sunwoo refuses to look up at sana, staring straight ahead at the camera, a hand placed carefully over her knee just to make sure she doesn't fall off.

"most of the girls just tend to leave them to their own devices inside the house. we don't really interact with them unless we have to. the first night, jacky almost beat up siwon for shit talking eunji."

they're moving into the second position, this time sana's on her knees with a sandcastle in front of her, and wonsik and shindong are helping her build it, with the other boys goofing off in the background.

"what'd he say?" you ask eunha, eyes still locked onto the scene in front of you.

"some shit about how she ought to look more like a girl. take out the piercings, grow out her hair, cover up her tattoos, all that bull. and that's not even the worst part, he just kept going on and on and then he called her a dyke and that's when jacky lost it."

"what the fuck?"

"yeah. he knows not to say shit around the other guys that aren't in his group now. but he still takes every chance he gets to try and 'convert' us." eunha says in quotation marks.

nayeon chimes in, "doesn't see us as competition because we're girls. just more possibilities for him in case sana doesn't pick him in the end."

shindong has built a slight protrusion out of the sand castle, you can't really tell what he's doing but the photographer is muttering and calling over a few producers who look a little frazzled.

they move on quickly, directing everyone into the ocean for the last shot.

"miyeon told me to keep an eye out for them. guess she was right."

they both look at you in surprise, "you've been talking to miyeon?"

you shrug, watching as sana shrieks when sunwoo playfully splashes water her way, urging her to come in deeper. "she gave me her number after she was eliminated, i texted her this morning."

"how's she doing? it felt terrible watching her go instead of heechul yesterday. honestly had to question sana's judgement a little."

you cringe a little remembering last night, "she's doing okay i think. and-"

you're interrupted by a commotion in the water, and you're running in without thinking, nayeon and eunha not far behind.

by the time you get there, sana's already out of the water, an arm over her chest, covering herself as the costume people quickly go in and shield her, scrambling and yelling for clothes.

you turn on your heel, stalking over to the cameras you knew were filming and shouting for them all to be cut.

once you’re sure that no one is taking advantage of sana anymore and filming without her consent, you’re spinning back to watch as producers are trying to pull apart sunwoo and seungri, seungri sporting a nasty looking black eye and a bleeding nose.  

you’re quick to rush over to sana first though, she’s in an oversized shirt now with a towel wrapped around her.

“what happened? are you okay?”

she sniffles a little, her nose slightly red, “yeah yeah i’m fine. the waves were just really big and i didn’t see them coming. my top came undone and i thought seungri was coming towards me to help tie it back up but he.. um, well…” she blushes and looks away.

you're livid.

the producers look thankful as you march up towards them, hoping you were there to help the situation, but you walk straight up to seungri, bringing a knee up into his crotch, hard, and when he keels over in pain, you swing an uppercut right into his face.

you would've kicked him as well if there aren't suddenly arms around you, yanking you backwards, and you let them, but then you get a glimpse of a stupid grin and you knew it was seungri's buddies pulling you away you start writhing. your fist connects with a couple hard spots and you smirk when you hear a few groans of pain. eventually, it's sunwoo who pulls the guys off you harshly, throwing them down into the sand and standing next to you, still glaring at seungri.

"you think you're real slick huh? think you could get away with sexually harassing someone on national television?" you're seething, spitting words out as seungri is still doubled over.

"couldn't keep it in your pants for more than 2 minutes you'd risk your entire career and face-"

"y/n." sana's stepping up to you now, a hand on your shoulder trying to pacify you.

"pack your things and leave seungri. i never want to see you again. you can talk with your lawyers about editing that scene out but i have a feeling it'll be left in because drama pays more than whatever you can offer."

seungri is finally up, still bleeding and probably sporting a broken nose now, "but-"

"you heard her. get the fuck outta here before we press charges." you step forward now, and he shrinks, afraid you'll go for his balls again.

security has finally arrived on scene and they escort seungri off the premises.

things are still pretty much in disarray after that, but despite everything, sana still powers through, rejecting the offer to stop filming for today, instead, picking sunwoo as the star of the group date, the rest of you are sent back to either get changed or head back to the mansion to get ready for the night's rose ceremony.

you desperately want a moment alone with sana to check in with her. but she seems headstrong on bulldozing through the rest of the day, and you're whisked away soon enough.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

the gossip spreads quickly.

after you've gotten changed into your outfit for the night, a sleek white suit with your hair carefully done up, courtesy of the costume and hair and makeup teams back at the bachelorette pad, you're sipping on a flute of champagne, talking with everyone about how the group date went.

"-and she sent him home after." eunha's finished telling the story to a few gasps and looks of shock.

"i knew i shoulda clocked that guy as soon as he made that comment about jiwon's dress." jacky's muttering, fists clenched in anger.

"poor sana i hope she's okay."

"yeah she was really incredible tonight to be fair. the producers had asked if she wanted a break and to continue filming tomorrow but she said she wanted to keep going."

"and sunwoo too, i'm glad he went in there and defended her. as jealous as i am that he won i'm glad she has him right now if she wants to talk." nayeon speaks up.

jihyo's loud voice is suddenly shouting from across the courtyard, "guys! look it's sana and sunwoo!"

everyone's rushing over towards the beach where it seems they had a long walk down from the photoshoot location all the way back to the mansion. your heart's pounding, wanting so badly to be with sana right now, to listen to her, to be angry for her, to be the one pulling her into an embrace right now as the contestants aww at the two of them hugging with the picturesque twilight in the background, sea breeze blowing softly.

they break away eventually, looking up towards all of you who wave and holler at them.

then they've interlocked hands, slowly making their way up to the mansion.

everyone is greeting each other again, but the producers quickly cut it short, saying the both of them have to go and get dressed so that the rose ceremony can begin.

the group disperses with a grumble, and you find yourself following sana, the costume designers not paying you any mind as you enter the designated dressing room inside the mansion.

"hey..."

sana jumps slightly but relaxes when she sees you, "hey yourself. what are you doing here?"

"just wanted to check in on you."

she tuts, "you're sweet y/n but there's no need for that. he was an ass and i sent him home. we don't have to worry about him anymore."

"yeah but.. like it's okay to still feel affected you know?"

she turns around, "zip me up?"

you nod, stepping forward and carefully reaching for the zipper on her back, sliding it up slowly, making sure it doesn't get caught on any outstanding threads.

she sighs, holding her hair over one shoulder so you can slide the zipper all the way up, "i'm just trying to get through today. after today's done... well if i still want to talk about it then i'll tell you. okay?"

you sigh softly against her, pressing your lips lightly against the back of her neck, "alright. just don't try to do everything yourself okay? i'm here."

a hand comes up and rests over yours, "i know baby. thankyou. c'mon, let's get this ceremony outta the way so we can go home and cuddle."

you hum, taking her hand and letting her lead you out of the dressing room and towards the courtyard.

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹

you're getting a serious case of deja vu when the last 4 people are standing.

4 people were meant to be eliminated tonight, but since seungri was asked to leave early, sana only had to pick 3 more to leave.

the choices were between shindong, siwon, heechul, and jiwon.

surely this time sana wouldn't make a decision that was too surprising.

"jiwon." you can feel most of the room letting out a collective sigh of relief, and the stunned faces of the three leftover guys you wished you could frame and put up. there were bound to be screenshots and memes made off them anyway.

unlike the previous nights, no one really moves in to say goodbye to any of the guys, just waving a polite greeting as they exit.

the mc comes in next and wishes everyone a good night. sana goes forward to mingle a little more, wishing everyone well before she comes back to you, taking your hand and pulling you towards the front of the house, eager to go home.

the ride back is quiet but peaceful. your hands have never left each others and you enjoy the short ride back to your shared home. once the driver has dropped you off you both head inside, take off those godforsaken heels, and drop down onto the couch.

sana's head in your lap, as you turn on the tv, pressing play on a random cartoon, carding your fingers through her hair.

you can tell the day has exhausted her, so you let her eyes drift shut, and her breathing even out, reaching for the blanket kept next to the couch and draping it over her.

you could take off her makeup and change her clothes later before taking her to bed, but for now, you were content to watch silly cartoons with sana safe in your hands.

[ja3yun]

Can i make a request?

Y/n saw this post and rant about bf!jake about this, only to be pounded by him as peace offering (breeding kink, talks about marriage, overstimulation) 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🙏🏻

https://twitter.com/asterjwon/status/1762378305490338241?t=yDIAkzHkDVx87C4_6BjXJg&s=19

hi! I don't normally take requests but this one was too good. the video has plagued me since i saw it 😩 when will it be me? hope this what you're looking for!

warnings: smut (mdni), breeding kink, overstimulation, cream pie, tummy bulge, mentions of jealousy and pregnancy, not proofread, anything else lmk!

w.c: 1.2k

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“I can’t believe you,” you scoff, folding your arms to mimic the disgruntledness within your body.

Jake stares at you bewildered, “Seriously? Because I put a ring on a fan's finger?” you’re usually so understanding about these things. Typically, you never bother being jealous, he’s always been flirty with others, his fanservice on another level compared to others.

So why is this one bothering you so much?

“You don’t get it, Jake. Just forget it,” your voice is wavering but you hide it behind a deep breath.”

He walks towards you, cupping your cheek with his hand, “Are you really gonna act like this?” his words are harsh but he’s only trying to coax an explination from you, “It’s my job, Y/N.”

“I know it’s part of your job, Jake, I’m not stupid,” you bite back, pushing him away slightly.

Jake stands there, not used to this cold side of you, it makes him think if this has just beem bottling up inside you since you both started dating.

Sighing, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration, “I know you”re not stupid, but fuck Y/N, I can’t read your mind,” his voice raises slightly but he’s trying to keep his composure.

“You’re so quick to accept marraige proposals, get fake married at fansigns, and speak all day like about your future wife on lives but as soon as I want to talk about us and our future, you cower away!” you let it all out, the tension in your shoulders lifting slightly from all the pent up anger.

You’ve been holding it in for months but placing a ring on another woman’s finger, fan or not, has tipped you over the edge. Jake has avoided any talk regarding marriage or kids, opting to make a quick lighthearted joke or changing the subject, however, there is only so many ‘we can start practising’ and ‘did you see that book you like is beng made into a movie’ you can take.

After you’ve ranted about your troubles, you hear the unthinkable - he laughs. Not like a hearty laugh but a snicker which somehow is even worse.

“Are you seriously laughing about this right now?” you glare at him, hoping you just heard wrong, yet there he is, smiling his head off.

He glides towards you, placing his hands on your hips, “Baby, no, I’m not laughing,” he said through chuckles which obviously doesn’t help his case, “You’re just so cute when you’re jealous.”

Brushing your hair away from your neck, he begins to scatter kisses all over the base, working his way up. His lips linger, tongue flicking on your skin ever so slightly just to tease you.

Losing focus, you stutter, “I-I’m not jealous.”

“But you are, baby,” his grip tightens a little on your hips as he presses himself against you, eliciting a moan from you, “You know you have nothing to be jealous of.”

He trails his fingers from your waist to the bottom of your tummy, playing with the waistband of your trousers. His sudden provocative touch making you crumble, forgetting what you’re even angry about.

“You’re the only one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with,” he whispers into your ear, the tips of his fingers crawling into your trousers and placing themselves teasingly at your entrance, “And you’re certainly the only one I’m fucking and filling up with my cum,” two of his fingers enter you suddenly, you grip onto his shoulders.

His thumb attaches itself to your clit, rubbing it roughly as his fingrr curl into you. Jake’s lips are ghosting over yours as he smirks, feeling your ragged breath, “You like that idea hmm? For me to make you mine and marry you? Fuck my kids into you?” his spare hand sneaks under your t-shirt and rubs over your stomach tenderly, “What if I fill you up until you’re so full there’s no choice but to get pregnant?”

You’ve never been more turned on in your life, the mix of his words with the way his fingers are moving inside your pussy so deliciously has you purring.

But before you can get too comfortable, he pushes you onto the bed and yanks your bottoms down, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

Once he discards you and him of all your clothes, he crawls onto you, his hand resuming his previous activities, except this time with more vigour. His cock throbs as it sits on your inner thigh, only making you ache more for him.

Jake focuses on rubbing your sensitive nub, feeling how close you are already, “Who did you think I meant when I spoke about my future wife?” he smooches along the mounts of your breasts, taking your nipples in his mouth as he passes them.

Your head is cloudy, too lost in the feeling of his lips on you and his fingers working you open, your clit throbbing on his thumb. The mewls that are falling from your mouth hit him straight to his cock, making it jump slightly.

“Cmon, Y/N, who did you think I was talking about?” he asks again, picking up the speed of his digits.

“M-me,” you breathe out after mustering up the words that are tangled in your pleasure.

“So why the jealousy, hmm?” his voice is too calm, a stark opposite to your writhing body and busy mind. He can feel your walls clamping down and your slick dripping down his hand, indicating how close you are, “You’re so silly, baby,” he mocks you slightly but only because he can’t imagine why you would take his fanservice to heart like that.

You feel the familiar heat rising in your stomach as you tense, feeling your climax wash over you, “Fuck, Jake!,” you cry out his name while you dig your fingers into his shoulders.

The sensation of you coming undone only serves to fuel his desires even more, his dick longing to be the one you’re squeezing around. Swiftly, he removes his hand from your heat, leaving you empty but not for long.

Quickly, he lines up at your entrance and pushes inside you, your hole still contracting and tight from your orgasm. He isn’t giving you a moment to breathe, to recover from your climax.

Jake’s thrusts drive into you at great speed, the way your walls are hugging him tightly is driving him to pound into you deeper.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” he huskily whispers, his thumb back on the attack of your bud.

Your pussy is being overstimulated, each thrust of his hips and rub from his thumb has you thrashing around under him, a mix of pain and pleasure, “Jake, s’too much,” you groan as your hands weakly try to hold his hips still.

But he is too far gone, lost inside you, “You want me to stop?” he asks cheekily, a smirk splayed over his face, “Isn’t this what you want? For me to fill you up?”

Your clit is burning, your hole is being stretched beyond belief and you really don’t want him to stop, not your mind anyway, yet your body is trying to fight him, the overstimulation all a bit too much.

It feels so fucking good though.

Jake is getting close, you can tell when his hips faulter slightly and his jaw tenses. You want him to cum soon, if not to give your pussy a break, to give you what you desperately crave.

Reaching down, you clasp your hand around his wrist and remove his thumb from your nub - relief instantly washing over you - and place it on your stomach, his cock bulging with each buck of his hips.

He looks down and feels it, the tip of his cock poking out just under your belly button, “Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna look so cute carrying our kid,” he says whistfully, voice full of love and adoration.

Kissing your lips hungrily, you feel another orgasm flushing through your body, that coil snapping once again as you clench his length, legs wrapping around him to hold him still as you ride it out.

Jake spurts ropes of his seed deep into you, making good of his promise to fill you up. The pulse of his dick adds even more gratification to you, the feeling of it jumping inside you makes you shake.

The room is filled with echoes of your shared pants and profanities, Jake's body falling on top of you once he’s rode out his high.

Looking up at you, his head laid on your chest, he smiles, “You’re unreal.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, you nod in agreement, “You too, baby,” you lean down to kiss his forehead lovingly.

“You know, I can’t wait to marry you,” he begins to speak, tracing shapes into your side, “I just want it to be at a time in our lives where I can actually be there for you. Once we’re settled and I’m not touring twenty-four seven. I want you to have a husband that’s always there when you need him, to help raise our family.”

His confession throws you off a little but your heart soars at the realisation that he has thought about your future together just as much as you have.

“And I promise, I won’t place rings on anyone’s fingers unless it’s yours,” he beams up at you, meaning every single word.

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