#but then he finally wakes up and realizes the consequences of his actions

[hellooobees]

I'm so impressed by the writing of Thamepo just in general but this is specifically about something I love about the writing around Thame and Po growing closer.

So in the first episode, the time that Po was hired to photograph Mars at an event is brought up three times right? First when Po is interviewing for the job at ONER and embellishes the truth about that event. Second when Thame reveals that he remembers Po from that event and has evidence that proves Po lied about not being a fan/sasaeng. And third when Po convinces Thame that he's not a fan In secret and Thame in turn reveals that he remembers Po out of everyone there because Po did something kind for a young fan and it stood out to him. @thebroccolination has written this fantastic breakdown on the layered writing of the first episode around that scene.

In the third episode, we see Thame and Po exchanging phone numbers three times. @btwinlines points out how every successive instance is growing more personal from Thame entering his phone number into Po's phone because they need to be in touch for their plan, to Thame being worried about Po when he's with Jun and finding he has no way to contact him, to Thame memorising Po's number because he doesn't want to risk losing it again.

At this point, I wondered about the number three showing up again and again in relation to Thame and Po and whether there was something similar in episode two as well, as it wasn't something I noticed immediately on first watch as I did with ep 1 and 3. And at least in my opinion there is? It's in Thame's interview for the documentary.

First we open with the staff at the company try to manufacture a meaningful moment for Thame and the rest of Mars, with fake polaroids, a script for exactly what Thame needs to say, even the gifts that Thame will present to them as goodbye. However, none of the other members show up and the interview falls through. The next day they try again, this time with just Thame in front of the camera till Po interrupts him, pointing out his contradictory actions between obediently following the script to a T and the very thoughtful gifts that Thame himself brought for Mars. Finally, Po turns the camera on again, asking Thame to say what he really wants to say to Mars and all Thame can do is say he's sorry and break down from the grief he's carrying around his decision to leave.

I wanted to see if they keep this theme up with the fourth episode too, and well, kind of. It's definitely not as clean as 1 and 3, but at the beginning of the episode Thame texts Po to which Po replies immediately and asks what's up - which goes unanswered. Po shows up to the club, after finding and putting together the shredded pieces of paper with the song Thame and Jun had asked him to help them find, just to realize it wasn't needed anymore and goes back home wordlessly so as not to intrude on the band's reconciliation with Dylan. At the end of the day while Po is stewing in insecurity over the day's events, he receives a call from Thame who validates his feelings and emphasises he doesn't want miscommunication to come in the middle of any more relationships, not while he's trying to fix the consequences from when he did let it. And they stay on the call for nine and a half hours talking about anything and everything, at the end of which Thame serenades Po with the song he said he likes when he wakes up.

Thamepo is very clearly made for TV in the way every episode has an individual arc to it along with the overarching arc of the show itself, but that little detail of Thame and Po's relationship was so endearing to me. I might be wrong here but it's reminiscent of the three act structure of storytelling to me? It sort of makes sense to me for each example to think of the three parts of it as the set up, the confrontation, and the resolution, if that makes sense? I don't know if this similar structure will show up in the following episodes as well and while I don't think it's likely I'll definitely keep an eye out.

I don't know, I just like the writing in this show a lot. Miscommunication is the crux of the plot, that's what causes the break down between Mars and what is weaponised by the CEO of ONER to convince Thame that leaving is the best decision. And I adore that communication then takes centre stage in not just bringing the band back together but also the romance. I love that their first few meetings dealt with Thame and Po both projecting on each other and then details being revealed that made them think differently. I love the way Thame asks for Po's help to bring the other members back to Mars and what convinces Thame to stay is a silent gesture of offering him the second sandwich as a juxtaposition to the CEO convincing Thame to leave by misrepresenting details about the other members. I love that what we've seen of Thame and Po building their relationship so far has been deliberate attempts to open a line of communication and then learning about every small and mundane detail about each other. Yeah, that's all, I just love this show a whole lot already.

[gone-series-orchid]

thinking about right after orc hits bette, he and howard are done with their sheriff duties so they’re camped in their house playing video games and orc has been his typical vague self, staring with glazed eyes at the tv screen with his mouth half-open and fingers pressing buttons like mad on the controller, when suddenly howard says something about how this beats being in school huh and orc’s eyes clear up and his eyebrows knit together and he stops playing and it all hits him, really hits him, and he starts to sweat and hyperventilate because this is real, this is all real and he hit a girl with a baseball bat in his own two hands and her head made a really bad sound when he hit it and she looked like a rag doll when she fell or like a zombie in a video game, but this was real

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f���me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[rafedaddy01]

Babysitter y/n slipping into rafes bed during the night when his wife is away on a work trip

She convinces him ,because she normally already drove home at 8 pm that he is just having a lucid dream

So shes not real and there are not consequences to his actions

So rafe makes all his dream about her come true

Fing her tight virgin p Doggy style as hard as he can

Of course raw

Grabing her as he wishes

And it really is a dream come true

Until the next mornign when he wakes up d still inside of y/n and he hears "honey I am home"

And he realizes he just actually f d his babysitter

Summary: You've spent years trying to get Rafe Cameron to pop your cherry. He's eight years older than you, but that's never stopped you. Ever since you were 16, you've been obsessed with him. Now, you've finally landed a job as his babysitter, and you're determined to get exactly what you want.

Warnings: SMUT, age-gap

Notes: thank you for the request. I added my own little back story to it ❤️

Your heart pounded in your chest, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins leaving you trembling. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing?”

“Shh, it’s not real. Just a dream, baby.”

He placed his palms firmly on your hips, his grip possessive as he steadied you over him. A sly smirk tugged at his lips. “Is it now? Funny, ‘cause it feels pretty damn real to me, baby.”

Your heart raced, but you forced yourself to stay composed as you leaned in and kissed him deeply, your lips lingering against his. Pulling back just slightly, you whispered, "If this were real, would I be doing this?"

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, heavy and electric. Rafe moved with predatory precision, flipping you over with ease until you were ass-up beneath him. His palm came down hard on your skin, the sharp sting leaving a mark and pulling a startled whine from your lips.

Rafe chuckled darkly, his hand lingering on the sting he left behind. “You like that, huh? Thought you could tease me and get away with it? Nah, baby, I don’t play nice.”

“Rafe—” your voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper as you glanced back at him. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach. “You can’t just… do that and expect me to keep it together.”

Rafe’s grin was wicked as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “Baby, if this is a dream, I’m making the most of it. Who knows when I’ll get to ruin you like this in real life?”

Your voice was barely a whisper, soft and inviting, as you tilted your head slightly, exposing the curve of your neck. Your eyes met his, a mixture of daring and vulnerability. “Do anything you want to me, Rafey,” you murmured, your words hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge, full of promise and surrender.

“Fuck,” Rafe muttered under his breath, his voice rough and low, like he was trying to convince himself this was real. The way you looked at him, eyes wide and filled with something between trust and temptation, made his chest tighten. You looked untouchable, like some kind of angel sent to test him, and yet here you were, all his for the taking. His lips curled into that signature smirk, dark and dangerous.“You’re too fucking perfect for me,” he murmured, his hand brushing your jaw as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. His blue eyes burned into yours, a storm of desire and control swirling inside them. “But you keep looking at me like that, and I’ll ruin you, angel. Consider it a challenge… and I never lose, baby.”

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation as you felt the tip of him pressing against your entrance. Your hips instinctively rolled back, seeking him, your movements deliberate, enticing, and impossible for him to resist.

"Ready, baby?" Rafe's voice was low and rough, a warning laced with dark intent. He didn't wait for your answer, pressing forward until his cock filled you completely, stretching you to the hilt. A guttural groan escaped his lips, his head falling back for a moment before his piercing blue eyes locked onto you again. "Fucking perfect," he hissed through gritted teeth, his palms gripping your hips with a bruising intensity. Without hesitation, he pulled back, then thrust forward with a force that made your breath hitch, his control slipping as he chased the pleasure only you could give him.

"Yes! Oh, fuck," you moaned, your voice breaking as your nails clawed desperately at the sheets beneath you. Your knees dug into the mattress, your back arching instinctively, presenting yourself to him in a way that made his breath hitch. From behind, Rafe groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he watched himself disappear into you, the sight driving him wild. "God, you're fucking perfect," he growled, his pace faltering for a moment as he took in the view, utterly consumed by you.

"Fucking perfect, baby," Rafe groaned, his voice rough as he pulled you closer. "So tight and warm... I fucking love it." Without warning, he smacked the curve of your ass, the sound sharp and satisfying. His hand lingered there, gripping and kneading the flesh, soothing the sting with a possessive caress.

Your release built rapidly, the pressure becoming unbearable. "Rafe, l'm gonna cum!" you moaned, your voice trembling with need. His palms gripped your hips tightly as his cock pulsed inside you, his own release dangerously close.

"Come on, baby, give it to me. Let me feel you soak my cock," Rafe growled, thrusting harder, his tip relentlessly hitting your g-spot.

"Fuck, Rafe," you gasped, the words barely escaping as the floodgates opened. Your legs trembled uncontrollably as you came, his release following in sync, his body collapsing beside yours. His cock still nestled inside you, the two of you drifted into an exhausted slumber. But morning arrived with an ominous chill, the sound of creaking steps jolting you awake. A voice, clear and sharp, echoed through the house-his wife's voice, calling out for her husband. Your heart froze as Rafe stirred beside you, still buried within you, completely unaware of the storm about to erupt.

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10 @writingroom21 @wtfdudesblog

[loveshotzz]

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve x fem!reader exes to lovers

Chapter Four -

Honey, on your knees when you look at me

The consequences of your actions hang heavy around you neck when you wake up, so you go to the shop to tell Steve this is definitely not what he thinks it is.

warnings: 18+ slight angst, confused feelings, semi public smut, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem receiving), body worship, praise kink, unprotected p in v smut, cream pie, fluff.

wc: 10k

authors note: This chapter has been almost two months in the making between life and writers block, I didn’t think I would be here. Thank you to everyone who sent me messages about this story and about him because of you, I never gave up writing this series I was so excited about. beta’d by: @superblysubpar

series masterlist | series playlist

songs from the playlist that inspired this chapter: Unravel Me, If You Think I’m Pretty, Please Don’t Fall In Love With Me, Make Up, Eastside, Holy.

Streams of shining golden yellow make your lids still heavy with sleep flutter, lashes tickling the tops of your puffy cheeks as you surrender to the sun’s wishes to wake you up. The orange shag carpet in Robin’s living room slowly comes into focus, along with the rest of your surroundings as the ends of your palms rub the rest of the night from your eyes. Stretching your legs, they’re met with warmth like the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds still lingering on the cushions next to you. 

¨Shit.¨ 

Your muscles freeze, threatening to cramp in your calf as the night floods back into your memories. How his plush pink lips slotted between yours like they should never be anywhere else, or how they made your back arch, kissing a messy path down your neck, perfect teeth nipping, threatening to bruise your delicate skin that lights up under his touch. 

A shaky breath pushes out of your lungs as you shimmy your body deeper into the couch, fingers finding their way to your chest where you swear you can still feel his smile pressed into your skin, the tips of them hitting something smooth and warm. 

A metal chain.

The weight of it around your neck finally registers through the sleepy fog that lifts from your brain. Looking down the slope of your nose, you nearly go cross-eyed when you’re met with the rich yellow gold that matches the sun, especially because It looks just like the one that belongs to Steve Harrington. 

“No, no, no, no.”

The realization that it is in fact, Steve Harrington’s kicks in just like your feet in a silent fit, the thin throw he must’ve put on top of you before he left falling to the ground. You remember his plea for a date, and it has panic curling deep in your gut, the consequences of your actions arriving first thing in the morning before you’ve even had any coffee. 

There’s a little bit of pride that hides in a small space in your chest that you didn’t just fold and say yes. Something you would have done in high school when he was giving you much less. Still, you didn’t say no. You were just prolonging the inevitable matter of letting him down right? It’s the self-respecting thing, it’s what you told yourself you’d always do. 

Say no.

You twist the metal between your fingers, your eyes finding the dust particles that seem to float between the plastic of Robin’s blinds. There’s an ache in your heart at the fresh reminder of what it feels like to be held in his arms, something he rarely did when you were dating, at least not if it wasn’t the dead of night. The sleepovers at his big empty house were your favorite until you realized how sad it was. All his whispered secrets and deep confessions that he only shared when you were lit by the moonlight - the kind that hid all the stars in the sky and that boy he was trying to hide. The ones that kept you hanging onto hope until the last bit of rope tethering you to him, cut your skin. Those were the nights that really made you have to run. 

You’re not sure if you could survive it again, and the end of August is only a distant friend. Pushing yourself off the couch, your eyes catch the bright bold numbers on the microwave that read 9:45 AM and you try to remember all the reasons you left in the first place. Not the way he looked at you last night in the kitchen making your best friend’s favorite snack. 

Your flip-flops clack loudly against the hot pavement, the determination in your walk up to the shop threatening to set the street ablaze. The spaghetti strap sundress you threw on in a rush trying to be careful not to wake up Robin does very little to help cool you or your mood down when you’re met with the mugginess of the Midwest. 

Steve’s chain bounces against your chest with each step, the gold shimmering against the sunlight in a pretty reminder that you still haven’t taken it off yet. One that you choose to ignore in your huff trying to think of all the mean things he's done and not the way he begged you to make it right.

Reaching the end of the block, you notice Eddie’s van is missing from the parking lot, leaving only Steve’s BMW against the side of the shop. It stops you dead in your tracks because the buffer that would stop you from making the same mistake isn’t there. Your proven lack of self-control only a few weeks into the summer has your confidence waver with nerves that try and get the best of you, but with a deep breath, you force your feet to keep moving.

Steve’s side of the garage is the only one open, the faded green metal door at half-mast to keep some of the sun away. Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel bleeds out of the open space, bouncing and echoing off the cars inside, waking up the butterflies and sending them soaring. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you try not to imagine the way he’s probably singing along, or that curl that won’t stay in place, falling over his forehead as he bobs his head to the beat.

Why is Eddie not here? 

You see his black work boots first, then the legs that were intertwined with yours just a few hours ago, now adorned by blue coveralls. Walking across the grease-stained cement, he comes to an abrupt stop, and for a second you think maybe he sees you, heart thumping wildly in your chest until he shuffles back a few steps before continuing forward. 

He was dancing and you hate the way the corners of your mouth twitch because of it.

The smell of oil is bittersweet hitting your nose as you stop in front of the opening, silently working up the courage to duck under the door. Steve doesn’t notice your sneaky entrance from where he stands at his workbench with his back facing you, completely lost in whatever’s on the paper he’s holding in black-stained hands. It gives you the few minutes you need to get your thoughts together as he bops his head to the music that’s loud enough to hide you a little bit longer. 

Your gaze lands on Eddie’s empty office, successfully diminishing the last bit of hope you clung onto that maybe he just didn’t drive today, before your eyes catch the burnt orange of your car tucked away in the corner. A cherry red Corvette sits parked in front of it, making your face sour at the instant comparison. It outshines the car you scraped up enough money to get after moving to the city, sparking the kind of anger you’d been scrambling to cling onto walking up here. Maybe if your car hadn’t broken down, you wouldn’t have kissed Steve Harrington, and then maybe you wouldn’t be standing here secretly wanting to do it again. 

Clinging to that notion with everything you have, you take a deep breath, straightening your posture before clearing your throat, letting him know he wasn’t by himself anymore.

”The music’s a little loud don’t you think?” 

The pleased grin that spreads wide across your face can’t be stopped when the sound of your voice makes him jump with a ‘Jesus Christ’ so loud you can hear it over the music, crumbling the paper in his hands.

Point one - you.

Your victory is short-lived the moment Steve turns around with his ever changing brown eyes that are somehow warmer in the daylight, reflecting the flecks of green that shine and light up even more at the realization that it’s you and not some random intruder. He runs those long fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess on top of his head that you made, while his heavy stare fixates on the chain still hanging off your neck. Right where he left it.

Leaning over to turn the volume down on his boombox, he doesn’t break eye contact, giving you that crooked smile that makes your heart skip a beat pushing up the two moles on his cheek. Raising his hands in a silent apology, you try not to think about how big they look or the way they grabbed at your hips last night. It's a fruitless effort, so you try to make up for it with a sassy tongue.

”Wow, I could have easily stolen one of these cars if I had wanted to.” 

Crossing your arms, you suck at your teeth, deciding that standing right where you are is the best move, especially when you see the sweat that glistens, beading off of his tan skin, curling the coarse hairs on his chest that’s hardly hidden by the sheer white of his tank top. At least his coveralls are fully on this time.

“Maybe I should report you to Eddie.”

“Most of the cars in here don’t run,” Steve tuts, dark eyes roaming over your curves hugged tight by the soft cotton of your dress unashamed before meeting your narrowed gaze, “You of all people should know that.”

“Sounds like maybe you’re just bad at your job.” 

You ignore the uncontrollable press of your thighs that only gets worse the more his smile widens with your attitude, reading your body language like his favorite book.

“Did you come here just to pick a fight?” Steve sighs, carding another hand through his hair, threatening to punch the air out of your lungs when he looks up at you through his lashes “Or do you just want another kiss?”

It’s impossible to sound out the word ‘no’ even though it’s just two letters because watching him lick his full bottom lip before tugging it between his perfect teeth makes you wish it was yours instead.  

“Is that it baby?” Steve taunts, pushing himself off the work bench and tossing the crumbled paper aside.

”No,” you finally manage to get out, but the venom you had less than twenty-four hours ago is gone, and it barely stings when you try to deny with a jut of your chin and a quieter than intended, “That’s not why I’m here.”

The little bit of self-control you’ve been hanging onto with an iron grip starts to slip from in between your fingers with each heavy thud of his boots that bring you closer to your demise as he closes the gap.

”Are you sure?” He asks with a glint in the darkening russet of his eyes that land on the gold wrapped around your neck again, close enough now to smell last night's leftover cologne.

“A-absolutely,” you stutter, taking a few steps back, the clack of your flip flops echoing, making you wince with embarrassment as you try to counteract his advances only for your back to hit the cool metal of a pickup truck. 

”Hmmm, I know what it must be then,” he hums, a faint hint of smirk twisting the corners of his full lips, big boots stopping with a scuff on the cement floor right in front of your pink painted toes. 

Reaching up, his bold fingertips trace the smooth edges of his chain, rough calluses tickling your collar bone daring to explore a little more. The quick rising of your chest spurs him on as he tries to hold his composure, teasing the dip of your breasts, he curls his finger around the metal, lifting the chain a little before letting it fall back into place. Mischief twinkles in his stare that matches the same color staining his hands.

“You must be here to tell me when you’ll be ready for our date later tonight, huh baby?”

It takes your brain a second to catch up, the freckles that spread across his cheeks like wildfire in the light distracting you from this close.

“The opposite actually,” clearing your throat, you try to hide the way your tongue dries when he looks at you like this, “I’m here to say that whatever happened last night doesn’t change anything.” 

The corners of his lips twitch, his gaze getting lost in the details of your features like you weren’t denying him, finally giving you the fuel you needed to make your blood simmer, the anger you thought you’d lost forever buzzing under your heated skin.

“So!”  You snap your fingers in his face, interrupting whatever daydream he was getting lost in, getting the glare you were searching for, “You better get that out of your head right now. We’re not going on a date.” 

Your words finally bite with a tone that almost seems final and for a minute it starts to feel like you have a semblance of your self-control back. Holding your head up high, you try to really end whatever started on your best friend's couch last night. 

“We can be friendly for Robin’s sake, but it’s never going to happen again. I’m not your girl, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, something you can’t quite put your finger on flashing behind the gold in his eyes. Leaning forward, his hand finds the chipped teal paint of the truck behind you. Caging you in, the spice of his cologne overwhelms you as it mixes with the heat in the garage, and the sweat glistening on his tan skin. The warmth of his breath fans across your cheeks that burn like they’re being licked by a flame, thighs pressing harshly under your dress as you try not to let his gaze swallow you whole. 

“If that’s how you really feel, fine.” He says cooly, seemingly unphased and it makes your blood boil more. “I’ll take my chain back now then.”

 “No.”

“No?” He snorts incredulously at your refusal, watching the way your fingers come up to play with it. Taunting him.

”I don’t even know why you put it on me in the first place,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes, channeling his nonchalance before ducking under his arm, your escape in sight.

You refuse to look back at him making a beeline to the open garage door, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you do your best not to give away the attachment you have to the weight of it around your neck that you really aren’t ready to unpack yet.

”I left it!” Steve yells hot on your heels, the cracks in his confident demeanor starting to show, “I left it so you didn’t think I just disappeared on you this morning because I personally have zero regrets about what happened last night.”

The sarcastic ‘HA!’ you let out is almost comical, picking up your pace with an extra sway to your hips because you know he’s staring.

”How about this, Steve?” You antagonize, turning around and walking backward with a smug grin that mirrors his from before, “I’ll think about it.”

Steve doesn’t take the bait, instead, he side-steps quickly to smash the round red button on the wall with a deadpan face. Letting the rumble of the garage door coming to life do all the talking for him.

”Are you serious?!“ You shriek, watching it close faster than your feet can carry you, even contemplating a tuck and roll when you see the sunlight and any chance you have at not going back on your promise start to disappear behind it.

“It’s simple honey,” he sighs with an irritated edge, “Give me my chain and I’ll open her back up so you can go run back to Robin’s and pretend like last night never happened. Just the way you want, right?”

”This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Let me out asshole!” 

A new level of stubbornness that you never thought you could reach locks you in place, facing him with arms crossed tight over your chest.

”I’m ridiculous?” Steve chuckles darkly, the steel toe of his boots echoing louder now that you’re sealed inside as he walks towards you, “Look at yourself.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap despite the way your teeth gnaw nervously on your bottom lip, greedy eyes roaming his tall frame as your body betrays you for what feels like the hundredth time today when he steps into your space again.

“I know you enjoyed drama club in high school, but you’ve always been a terrible actress.” 

“And you’ve always had way more confidence than you should.” 

Steve’s nostrils flare, his gaze threatening to set you on fire.

”I’m going to get back to work, you’re free to go whenever you give me my necklace back. I’m getting paid to be here all day baby, you aren’t, so just know that I’ve got time.” He holds your stare for a second longer, sucking at his teeth before turning around. Testing you.

“Come take it off me then, Harrington, if you want it so bad.”  

Two can play that game.

He stops in his tracks, shoulders tensing at the implication of your words, turning his head to the side, he gives you a perfect view of his sharp jawline. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, with a tone sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“I said,” your shoulders square with a defiance that matches your glare, acting as if you aren’t sealing your fate with the next four words, “Come and get it.”

Steve’s long strides close the distance faster than you can comprehend. A big hand grabs at your hip, grease-stained fingers digging into your curves, while the other cups the side of your face, surely leaving a mark. He's getting what he really wants.

Gasping into his mouth, the force of his kiss sends a shudder through the garage door when your back slams against it. Lost in the sensation of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, you barely notice. Your fingers weave through the thick locks of his hair at the nape of his neck as if they were always meant to be there. A harsh tug on the silky strands earns you a groan that's deeper than you remember, and you immediately want to hear it again.

The clash for dominance ignites as your tongues collide clumsily, teeth grazing and noses pressing into each other’s cheeks. His grip tightens on your hip in a warning before his hand trails down to where the bottom hem of your dress rests at the top of your thigh. Pushing up the thin fabric, the blunt tips of his nails skim across your soft skin, goosebumps pebbling despite the heat.

His fingers tease the edge of your panties, tracing the curve where they meet your ass, stealing your whine with a cocky grin that he kisses into your lips. He lingers just long enough to turn you needy before he hooks your knee around his waist, getting the instant roll of your hips and more of your little noises that will haunt his every waking thought after this. 

“Steve,” you breathe, tugging your swollen bottom lip between your teeth while he starts kissing a slow, agonizing path down your jaw, tickling you with the stubble on his cheek.

He hums in between kisses, nipping at the sensitive spot behind your ear, he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue before he starts to suck–hard. Your moan bounces off the metal and concrete that surround you, echoing in your ears while your greedy fingers tug even harder at his roots. His grip on you tightens when you start to squirm as his efforts to mark what’s his intensify, leaving a bruise you’ll have to explain to Robin later.

”Yeah?” He mumbles against your heated skin, the tip of his nose running along your pulse point, a saccharine smile pressing into the curve of your neck where his chain still rests.

“Shut up,” you manage to get out, despite Steve leaving open-mouthed kisses on the swell of your breasts, palming roughly at the dough of your ass, encouraging another rock of your hips.

“You're always so mean to me, honey,” Steve sighs, nipping at the supple skin, before meeting your poor attempt at a glare from under the thick hood of his lashes.

”Yeah? And? What are you gonna do about it?” You bite, but it doesn’t sting the way you want it to, not with the way your chest heaves in anticipation of his next move.

Steve flips you around so quickly that the change in position has you gasping, your palms meeting the warm metal of the garage door that bakes in the sun outside. Heavy work boots push your legs apart, while hot breath that rivals the summer dances across the nape of your neck. He presses himself into you, letting you feel just how hard you really have him, the tip of his nose brushing along the shell of your ear. Butterflies multiply, tickling your rib cage just like your lashes that kiss the tops of your cheeks.

“I think it's pretty obvious what I want to do,” he whispers against your neck, lips ghosting across the freshly formed bruise, “The real question is…”

The backs of his fingers brush along the sides of your breasts, goosebumps pebbling across your skin. His big hands follow the curve of your waist, smoothing down to the tops of your thighs. Taking his time, he curls them under the hem of your dress, pulling it up to rest on top of your hips, still giving you the chance to stop him. One you don’t take.

“Are you gonna let me?” His words are gruff coming out next to your ear, your walls fluttering around nothing because of it.

The humid air doesn’t help your sticky thighs that only get worse as two of his calloused fingers trace agonizingly slow along the waistband of the only fabric separating you now. Peppering soft kisses to all the sensitive spots that make your skin come alive, his teeth nip playfully at your earlobe, fireworks lighting up in the sky behind your eyes when he takes it into the heat of his mouth. The sensation has you mewling, jaw going slack as your toes curl into the foam of your flip flops from a feeling only Steve Harrington can give.

”I could be so nice to you, baby,” he whispers, letting you go with a pop, his fingers daring to go lower than just teasing, smirking against your cheek at the gasp you give when he drags them through your slick folds, wrapping your hands around his wrist for support, your hips chase him for more. “Don’t you want that?”

Your pride has your teeth biting into your bottom lip. Refusing to answer his question loaded with too many double meanings for your head to wrap around right now, but you still spread yourself wider for him, because the last thing you want him to do is stop.

“Gonna make me earn it, huh?” He breathes, biting back his groan at how you start dripping down his hand, “That’s okay. I’ll show you I’m worthy.”

His promise is enough to finally draw out the moan you’ve been fighting, the sound making him kick up in his coveralls, while the movements of his wrist become more pointed. Your head lulls back against his broad shoulder, and his cologne smells even better with the way sweat starts to drip from his pores. Your eyes are needy, meeting the black coffee of his and you know it, especially at the furrow of his brows when he looks at you completely transfixed.

“God, I almost forgot how soft you are. How fucking wet you get for me.” He whispers between gritted teeth, awestruck at the feeling of your silk walls begging him for more, daring him to explore, “Bet you taste even sweeter than I remember too.”

Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours, the mint that still lingers on his breath tickling your lips. Your hips roll with the rhythm of his wrist, warmth spreading across your cheeks as the sounds of just how wet you are echo in the big space. Too close to falling apart all over his fingers to care, the blunt ends of your nails dig half-crescent moons into his wrist chasing it.

“Baby, are you gonna come already? I’ve barely touched you.” 

His words mock you despite the sugary sweetness they drip with, every swipe against your bundle of nerves becoming unrelenting, determined even. But it’s still enough for you to take the bait and force your eyes open, meeting his hungry stare dead on and say:

”Y- you wish it was that easy.”

Amusement dances across the hard lines of his face, his dark gaze narrowing before something between a laugh and a growl rumbles deep from his chest. The motions of his wrist come to a halt, and it takes everything inside of you not to cry in protest. Pulling his hand from your soaked panties, his wet fingers dig into your hips spinning you around, quick strides pushing you to the corvette that started your spiral. 

“What are you doing?!” You squeal, your butt hitting the cherry-red metal of the hood that sticks to your sweat-slicked skin.

He just grins, the pearly whites of his teeth showing as grease-stained hands spread your knees apart enough for him to step between, leaving raven fingerprints in their wake before grabbing at your chin, he forces you to look at him.

“Need you to keep your eyes on me, honey, and remember what you just said.” He pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, watching it pop back into place. 

Letting go of your chin, he holds your stare, fingers ghosting across the tops of your thighs as he drops to his knees like someone praying to a god. Hooking his arms under your bent legs, he tugs you to the end of the hood with a squeak. Spread wide for him to see, your calves rest on top of his shoulders that you hate to admit you wish you could see. Leaning forward, the tip of his nose traces the wet path of your covered folds, breathing you in like the sweetest summer breeze.

When his big eyes meet yours from between your thighs, just begging you to get lost in them like you used to, it’s almost enough for you to forget the game you’re both supposed to be playing. There’s a softness that lingers inside melting caramel that manages to shine through the black that overpowers it, and you wonder if he can hear the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. 

His touch is gentle now, long fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear, silently asking you for permission to cross the line that deep down you know there’s no going back from. Nodding your head with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you even help him, lifting your legs when he pulls them from around your ankles.

Steve stuffs the satin in his pocket ignoring the way you tell him that you want them back. His pink tongue that’s seconds away from being your undoing wets his lips, jaw going tight at the sight in front of him. Roses bloom on his tan cheeks, and he can’t help but run a hand through his hair, the reality setting in that he really has you like this. He looks completely wrecked. At least it isn’t just you.

“Fuck.” He breathes, the blunt ends of his nails digging into the dough of your thighs, shuffling himself even closer, his eyes glaze over. 

Goosebumps pebble across your buzzing skin, your velvet walls fluttering around nothing as you lose the witty response you had saved on the tip of your tongue, managing just a quiet, “I thought you were supposed to show me somethin’?” 

His lips twitch so close to where you need him most that you can almost feel the curve of them, your knees bending just a little more, urging him on by his shoulders.

“So impatient,” he tsks, the vibrations of his words only making it worse, “My girl needs me huh? She missed me as much as I missed her didn’t she?”

“Steve - shut uhhhhohmygod!”

His mouth latches onto your cunt like he’s thirsty for everything you’re offering him, collecting your dripping honey that’s sweet on his tongue. Running a broad stripe up your folds, his grip on your thighs tightens when you start to squirm, holding you in place, as he swirls messy circles on your bundle of nerves before sucking it hard enough for your head to fall back against the car. Your fingers bury themselves into the sweaty silk of his hair, pulling harshly at the roots, earning the kind of grunt that has you whimpering, dripping down the stubble on his chin as your hips buck up to meet him.

Letting you go with a loud pop, he huffs out a dark laugh at your whine, hardly giving you time to recover before pulling you even further down the hood of the car, till your ass hangs off the edge. The tip of his nose brushes against your sensitive clit while his tongue begins to tease your entrance that quivers just for him. The new angle has you practically sitting on his face, and before you have a chance to overthink it he slowly starts to work you open with his greedy mouth.

”Holy shit I -“ Your eyelids droop, jaw going slack as he starts to move side to side, licking into you like you’re the sweetest prize. His nose adds just the right amount of pressure while he eats you up like a man starved, “You’re gonna - fuck - Steve!”

His hands move from your thighs to the soft fat of your ass, encouraging your hips more, and if you weren’t so far gone, you’d be scared you’re suffocating him. You dare to look down at the scene between your legs, and it’s almost enough to have you cumming all over his face. His pitch-black eyes gaze up at you enamored, completely lost and still hungry because after all these years it’s still not enough. He moans into your folds when you meet his half-lidded stare, the sensation vibrating in all the right places, making your legs shake.

The feeling of your walls pulsing tight around his tongue, knowing how close you are already has him twitching painfully hard in his coveralls. It’s enough to ignore the discomfort of his knees, doubling down on the movements of his jaw. His name bounces off the metal and concrete, while the roll of your hips gets more and more aggressive because it feels like he’s eating you from the inside out, the tip of his tongue reaching the spot that makes you gasp.

“Right there, shit, right there, right there, I’m gonna, oh my god I’m gonna cum!”

Your scream is silent, body going rigid, giving into him already. The muscles in your legs tense, as your thighs squeeze tight around his head while your pussy tries to push him out but he only doubles down with a completely relentless tongue. He moans loud enough inside you to hear through the ringing in your ears, your fingers curling harshly in his thick locks, back hitting the metal of the hood again.

He ignores the first few pushes against his forehead when his kitten licks become too much before he finally listens. Sticky legs fall open releasing him from a trap he never asked to escape from, his shiny wet lips leaving kisses along your shaking thighs, tickling the supple skin with the stubble on his jaw. You feel his tongue dart out to collect everything he missed, earning the kind of sweet noises he can’t wait to hear all summer long. 

Steve stands up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and you try to be mad at his smug grin but your body can’t help its reaction to the way he struggles against his coveralls. The hard outline of dick reminds you of the stretch that you know will ruin you for anyone else, spent walls fluttering despite yourself. 

”Now what was that you were saying a few minutes ago, pretty girl?” Leaning down, his palms find a new home on either side of your head. 

The whites of his teeth shine at the eyeroll you find enough energy to give him, even with your legs wrapped around his waist. His nose nudges the tip of yours, the playful glint in his eyes changes into something lovesick and it brings the ache in your chest back because you know it’s going to hurt even worse walking away again. 

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” He questions, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he searches your face for answers.

You don’t give him one, pushing aside the worry for when you lay awake in the middle of the night. Instead, you let your fingers wrap themselves in the cotton of his tank top, pulling him to your lips that silently beg him to help you forget. He meets you with an eager mouth, and a big hand that comes up to rest on your flushed cheek. The pad of his thumb traces the high bone while his tongue asks you for permission for more. 

Your thighs lock tighter around his waist, granting him the access he wants, tasting yourself all over him. Shaking fingers find the zipper of his jumper, tugging down the metal, he helps your shimmy off his sleeves. The freckles that dot his shoulders like the night sky beg you to open your eyes as the top of his coveralls fall to his sides, the rock of his hips making you say his name like it’s the sweetest thing. 

“Want you,” you whisper with a nip at his bottom lip, ankles crossing at the two dips you know are on his lower back.

”Baby,” He groans, dropping his head down, burying it in the crook of your neck as you roll your pussy over the length of him that’s still covered by the navy blue material you can’t seem to get off fast enough.

He lets you do it a few more times before his hands find both your wrists, pinning them above your head, he peppers kisses along your jaw, letting his fingers glide down the length of your body, making sure to catch his chain still hanging off your neck as he stands back up. You finally get a good look at him, and the sight is enough to know the memory of today will be etched into the corners of your mind, just like the rest of them. 

Pink cheeks still kissed by the sun, and dark chestnut hair that matches his eyes twist at its golden ends in an even bigger mess now on the top of his head. The thick thatch of it on his chest curling from the sweat that drips down his neck, leaving translucent patches along the white cotton of his tank top, teasing even more of him to your starving gaze. His uniform hangs low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of the waistband of his boxer briefs, making you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He grabs at the sides of your thighs, his handsome face going kind.

“You came in here ready to tell me to fuck off,” he laughs softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles, “I just need to know this is what you really want.”

His words tighten in your chest, forcing you to make a decision so that when you have no one else to blame but yourself when you lay awake in your apartment with a broken heart in the fall, you can’t hate him anymore. 

“I really want it.” 

The answer stumbles past your lips before you can think too hard about it, pulling the rest of your rucked up dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed for his heavy chocolate eyes to drink in. Despite the muggy heat of the garage, your nipples pebble under it, cheeks going hot because you always feel like the most beautiful girl in the world when Steve Harrington looks at you like this. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs to let you go and do the same with his tank top, tossing it to the side before shoving the rest of his uniform down the tops of his thighs. Thick, long and heavy, your eyes widen as his hard length springs free, smacking against the happy trail at the bottom of his stomach. The pink tip leaks for you, shining with precum, while his big hand wraps around it, tugging a few times and making you drip more on the hood.

“I’ll go slow,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in something sweeter than the rest of them. “I know you can take it, honey.”

Nodding your head, you look up at him with glassy eyes, completely giving in, shutting off the part of your brain that’s telling you that you know better. Spreading your legs wider, his eyebrows marry in the middle of his forehead, cursing under his breath at the sight of you like this. He silently thanks whatever gods or girl that got Eddie sick, because this moment shatters any fantasies that have consumed his late nights. 

He runs the length of his cock through your slick, spreading you apart around him, earning the kind of mewl that makes him twitch in his hand. Your back arches off the corvette when he does it again only this time with added pressure to your clit. Locking your legs around his waist, you make sure he doesn’t get away. 

”So fuckin’ beautiful baby, Jesus Christ, look at you.” Steve grunts, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip into the tightening silk of your walls before both his hands find their way back to your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. ”Wanna make you feel so good. You gonna let me?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper a little high pitch and out of breath, letting go of all the control you’ve hung onto for the last five years with a dirty roll of your hips that begs to suck him in.

“Oh fuck, you’re still so - shit.” Steve practically whines, his jaw going hard with eyebrows that pinch together, trying to regain his composure from the way you pulse around him just nudging halfway in, the aftershocks of your first orgasm have you feeling every ridge of his cock, lighting your body up.

The stretch burns, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as flames lick deep in your gut from the feeling you’ll never get enough of. His calloused fingers grab at your chin, demanding your attention. Your lashes tickle the tops of your cheeks as you force them back open, only to find his face is closer now, both his palms landing on either side of your head, black iris’s threatening to drown you, holding your gaze with the kind of intensity that makes your heart palpitate.

”I want to look at you.” He breathes against your lips as one swift thrust has you completely filled up.

”Steve!” 

Gasping into his mouth, it takes all of your strength to keep your eyes open, focusing on the imperfect circles of the chestnut freckles that explode across the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?” He smirks, pressing his forehead against yours, the rough hair on his chest tickling the softness of your breasts, nipples pebbling as your arms wrap around his neck.

“It feels, you feel -“

A loud moan rumbles from the back of your throat when the tip of him hits the spot that makes your toes curl into the fat of his ass, pushing him even deeper, the ends of your nails dig pretty marks all over his shoulders. 

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” He grunts, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, the roll of his hips becoming a slow grind. 

His pelvic bone hits your bundle of nerves just right while the tip of him bullies the spot that has your eyes threatening to close against his wishes, and it has you sounding like ‘Steve’ is the only word you’ve ever known. It’s a hazy mess inside your mind, especially when he looks at you like this. It’s worse than before, and you don’t know how you’re going to find your way back this time, something different inside of his gaze that you know is going to make it impossible.

”Missed you so much, so damn gorgeous angel, think about you all the time. All the fucking time.” Steve babbles, completely drunk off the way you flutter at his words, the angry facade you’ve been putting on crumbling around him as your body lets the truth come out.

The confession makes your chest tighten with all the unresolved feelings you’ve shoved down for so long, the ones you almost forgot were there until a few weeks ago. Fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck you lean up, capturing his lips to shut him up, rocking your hips to meet his thrust. He grunts into your mouth, cock twitching against your walls, eagerly licking into your mouth. 

It’s easier to get lost in him without the reminder of what used to be, teeth scraping together as the kiss gets messier. The metal of the car crunches and bends under your movements, but neither one of you can find it in you to care with noses pressing into each other's cheeks, tongues fighting for the kind of dominance your hips are at war about.

Steve is the one that breaks first, coming up for air, with eyes that seem even darker than before as he pushes himself up to stand. Big hands grab at your hips as a loose strand of hair falls across his forehead. Pulling halfway out, he takes a moment to admire the sheen you coat him, pink tongue darting out to lick his swollen lips before shoving himself all the way back in.

”Oh my god!”  You gasp, throwing your head back against the hood, your hands landing on top of his, fingernails digging into the tops of them.

“I wanna watch you cum again, can you do that for me, baby?” He tugs you closer, your body squeaking across the metal that tries to stick to your skin, the tip of him hitting that spot again.

Nodding your head, every hard thrust of his hips echoes through the garage, the car shaking underneath you as tires threaten to roll. He feels himself getting close, the pad of his thumb finding your clit to rub the kind of messy circles that have you saying his name just how he likes. 

“Come on, let me see how pretty you can get, let me have it.” He coos, finding the perfect combination to make you come undone all over him.

Your walls clench hard enough to try and push him out but he just buries himself deeper, a loud groan rumbling from his chest watching the way your face contorts with pleasure. White dances behind your heavy lids that squeeze shut as your legs start to shake around his waist. You try to shove his hand away, but he refuses, remaining relentless, milking your second orgasm for everything it's worth, making you cum even harder. 

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s iiiiit, so fuckin’ good for me.” He praises, completely lost in the way your body responds to him and it’s enough to send him flying over the edge he’d been teetering on since had you against the garage door.

A string of curse words falls pretty from his lips, twitching hard inside you and with the last bit of strength you have, you squeeze him even tighter, relishing in the way his jaw goes slack because of it. The movements of his thumb finally end its assault so he can grab onto your sides with both hands, fingers digging bruises as one last hard thrust has his warmth filling you up.

The feeling of being so full sends your body buzzing, watching him fall apart on top of you with sweat dripping off the ends of his hair. His head drops between his shoulders, body shaking as his orgasm rakes through him. Red cheeks and skin so warm it rivals the sun, he lets himself collapse on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck totally spent, still chasing his high with a slow circle of his hips.

Your nose finds its way into his damp hair, inhaling deeply because it somehow smells even better than before. You wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you know you should leave and forget this ever happened, but it feels too good to have hands sliding up your curves as he starts to drip out of you and onto the car. 

“God, Eddie’s going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin, making you squirm because it tickles, and you can feel him smile because of it.

“How’s he gonna find out?” You giggle, the metal of the Corvette popping under your shifting weight.

”Baby.” Steve snorts, leaving a kiss on the curve of your jaw before pushing himself up on his elbows, the endearment falling too easily off his tongue in a casual way, reminding you very quickly of your reality.

It’s harder to meet his eyes that search for yours, but you do anyway. They’re warm again, like a dark sand beach and it's hard not to want to lay out a towel and live inside them. Both of you wince as he pulls himself out, cursing under his breath at your walls staying greedy and trying to pull him back in. 

He doesn’t notice the shift in your demeanor pulling up his coveralls and tying the sleeves around his waist, or if he does he chooses to ignore it, grabbing your dress off the floor before offering you his hand. There’s less grease staining them now and you know it's because it's all over you, completely marked by him nearly head to toe whether you like it or not. 

Sliding your hand in his, you duck your head down as you take it, legs wobbling when your feet hit the ground, not missing the smug grin that pushes up his cheeks clocking it. You go for your dress but Steve just tuts at you pulling it out of reach, ignoring your scoff he shakes it out before lifting it above your head signaling for you to put your arms up. Rolling your eyes with a smile you can’t fight, you pretend not to feel the butterfly wings tickling your ribcage, turning around and doing as he asks, letting him drag the soft cotton down your body. Calloused fingertips tracing the goosebumps they create.

”Let’s go get cleaned up in the bathroom,” he hums softly, grabbing you by the hips, and pressing a kiss into the fresh bruise behind your ear.

You tell yourself you’ll leave after this letting him guide you by the waist and a chin on your shoulder. You think it again when the small space of the bathroom is filled with giggles and bashful smiles as he sits you on the closed toilet seat, wetting paper towels that turn into mache in his hands. You scream at yourself to do it watching him try and fix his hair in the mirror after wiping you down the best he can, pressing kisses on both your kneecaps. 

“I’ve been using this new product, but nothing hits like Farrah. I can’t believe they discontinued it. Dustin swears he can find me some, but who knows if you can even trust it’s the real deal, you know?”

Steve interrupts your inner turmoil with a face that’s far too serious for the words that just left his mouth and the thoughts running through your head. Your mood shifts almost instantly with a laugh loud enough to turn his cheeks the color of your toes, giving you an exaggerated eye roll despite the twitch of his lips.

“I can’t believe you still hang out with a middle schooler.” You tease, getting up on your feet, legs feeling a little less like jello but the reminder between your thighs only seems to intensify.

”I told you he’s like 19 - “

”Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Steve,” you grin, taking the break in the intensity of everything to try and work up the self-control to leave, wincing at the echoing clack of your flip flops that give you away instantly.

”Wait, where are you going?” Steve’s brows furrow in confusion, turning around to face you, he tightens the sleeves wrapped around his waist, biceps flexing while all the playfulness drains from his eyes.

”I should go before Robin -“

”What? No, she’ll be fine, it’s like noon. I’m sure she’s not even awake yet.” 

“Steve.”

”Honey.”

The two of you face off in a silent challenge, stares unwavering, mimicking each other with arms crossover over your chests. 

“Don’t run again.” He pleads with a whisper that’s barely audible against the beating of your heart in your ears, the room feeling smaller.

“I’m not running, I’m walking.” You try to lighten the mood with a joke, the corners of your eyes stinging but you refuse to acknowledge why.

”I’m not letting you walk home.”

“It’s down the road-“

“I don’t care! You’re not walking. Let me close up and then I’ll at least drive you.” 

You don’t argue with the hurt expression on his face, you can’t.

It’s somehow even hotter outside when the two of you sneak out the side door of the garage. A different kind of tension hangs thick in the air putting the humidity to shame, even with the sun shimmering from the highest point in the sky. His skin glows like liquid gold in its rays as he walks in front of you, your eyes following the movements of his freckled shoulders that flex with every swing on his arms. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hate the pit that settles deep in your gut because you don’t want to say goodbye just yet. Another consequence of a choice you made rearing its ugly head.

You aren’t expecting him to open the passenger door for you, the metal creaking loudly breaking a silence that’s filled with a thousand unspoken words just hanging on the tip of both of your tongues waiting to fill up the space. His gaze meets yours from under the thick length of his lashes, the corners of his lips twisting at the way you get bashful from the gesture.

”Thanks,” you whisper, catching a whiff of his cologne as you duck into the passenger seat that’s starting to feel like yours again.

He just hums in response, shutting it quickly and trapping you inside a metal box filled with every smell that reminds you of him. It pulls at your heart, and intensifies the burn between your thighs. Your fingers come up to twist the metal that still dangles from your neck, and you’re not sure you can bring yourself to give it back after this. The already small space of the car shrinks even more when the driver side door opens and he slides in next to you with a huff, keys jingling loudly in his hand closing the door behind him. 

His shoulders brush with yours shoving the keys in the ignition, the seat vibrating underneath you as the beemer quietly roars to life. He keeps his hand on the stick shift, sweat slick skin pressing into yours shifting the car into drive. The radio isn’t as loud as you thought it’d be considering the way he was blasting it in the shop. Meatloaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love spills out of the speakers and you try not to laugh at the irony, scrambling to think of what to say to him as Robin’s apartment complex quickly comes into view. 

But he never stops.

“Steve, what are you doing?” You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest watching the baby blue paneling of her apartments whiz past. 

“This is technically my lunch break, and I’m hungry.” He shrugs, glancing at you with something mischievous in his eyes that you want to smack away because it makes your heart skip a beat, “You’re telling me you’re not starving after that honey?”

Smacking your lips together, you roll your eyes as hard as you can, trying to hide the smile that pushes up your cheeks. 

“Wow, your confidence always just astounds me.” Shaking your head, your sarcastic laugh only makes him grin.

”I think you like it.” 

You can’t bring yourself to deny it, fluttering your lashes at him with an attitude instead.

”But if you really can’t stand the thought of spending like another hour with me, I’ll turn around right now, honey.” You know he means it, feeling his foot slowly press on the brake in anticipation for your answer, “Just say the words.”

‘Say it, say turn around Steve.’

“Take me somewhere with fries.”

When you left Robin’s house this morning, you didn’t think watching Steve juggle two shakes and a large order of fries to the booth you’re sitting at with a heart so full it threatens to crack your chest, was where you’d end up at. His cheeks flush a deep shade red almost losing his footing, lovesick eyes too busy staring at you to watch where his boots land. 

God, this was not a part of the plan.

“I got you strawberry,” his grin is proud, remembering your favorite from high school when he drops your cool treat in front of you, and instead of sliding into the seats across the table, he plops down into the spot right next to you, knees bumping underneath the wood.

“What if I wanted chocolate?” You tease, body turning into a lit match pressing into his side.

“That’s what I got, and maybe, if you ask nicely,” he breathes, leaning in close enough for the tips of your noses to brush, “I’ll share.”

You wonder if he can hear the way you swallow at his tone over that oldies station that plays in the Hawkins Diner. 

“No thanks, you can keep your cooties.” Sighing, you have to fight the twitch of your lips tearing your eyes away from him to focus on the fried potatoes in front of you.

”I think it’s a little late for that baby, I’m afraid you’re completely covered in them.” He doesn’t hesitate to press a sloppy kiss on your cheek that's loud enough to catch the attention of the girls that’d been staring at him since the two of you walked in.

”Steve!” You try to scold, but the smile that spreads across your face gives you up, even if you wipe the kiss away with the back of your hand.

”What?” He smirks, grabbing a few fries and plopping them in his mouth and you try not to focus on the way his tongue darks out to collect the salt left over on his lips.

“I can’t stand you.”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face around him, even avoiding the playful gold that swirls in his gaze that hasn’t stopped showering you with adoration. 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep better at night.” He shrugs, taking a big swig of his shake, subtly scooting closer so your thighs touch.

The two of you eat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head swimming with questions as your morning starts to really sink in. But your nerves make it impossible to focus on just one, especially every time you fingers brush, catching his small smirk from the corner of your eyes.

”So tell me something,” you try, ignoring the slight shake in your voice, “How did Steve Harrington, ‘king of Hawkins’, become a mechanic? I always thought you’d be in some big office with a suit working for your dad.” 

You notice the sour look that contorts the handsome features on his face at the former nickname again and you immediately feel bad for saying it. His thick eyebrows furrow, marrying in the middle as he tries to shake it off with a few harsh blinks grabbing another handful of fries.

”Umm, I did work for my dad’s firm for like six months actually.” He confesses, clearing his throat before tossing them into his mouth. “I think we hate each other even more now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude that's not why I asked -“

”Honey, you’re fine.” He smiles warmly, a big palm finding the top of our thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it occupy the space permanently. 

”Turns out I’m a terrible office manager. I’d get super overwhelmed, which made me disorganized and we’d lose clients making my dad pissed, then one day I just kinda snapped after he laid into me in his office. Had a panic attack and then never showed my face there again.”

”Steve-“

“I knew he was going to fire me anyway, it’s fine” he laughs, running his free hand through his hair, the other sliding down your thigh so his thumb can rub circles into the soft skin next to your knee cap.

“So I wallowed in self pity for a month before Eddie started needing help at the shop. At first it just gave me something to do, he’d teach me a few things and turns out, I’m actually pretty good at it. It honestly feels really fucking freeing to stop being the person everyone expected me to be.”

He smiles with all his teeth, the kind of pride radiating off of him that makes the hard brick wall you’ve built around yourself start to soften, cracks forming in its foundation.

”Well, it looks good on you Harrington.” You have to look away when you say it, the butterflies becoming unbearable, because you weren’t supposed to feel like this. “I guess.”

He snorts at your stubbornness, bumping shoulders with you before snatching your strawberry shake earning the kind of glare that makes him realize he’s never going to get over you. 

Steve’s one hour lunch turns into two, almost becoming three getting lost in the kind of conversation that barely scratches the surface of everything you’ve missed. It’s all hushed tones, sweet eyes, and linked fingers that threaten to make you fold again, with the only thing saving you is the reminder of the mess you made on top of his client's Corvette, and Steve reluctantly admitting he needed to leave so he didn’t actually lose his job in the morning. 

It didn’t matter though, he got his date. 

And when he pulls up to Robin’s he doesn’t hesitate to steal your breath away, grabbing you by the chin, giving you the kind of kiss over the center console that leaves you dizzy, just like in high school. He doesn’t ask for his chain back, and you don’t offer it, bounding up the stairs to the apartment with it shimmering against your chest.

🌻chapter five

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [1/…]

- OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“So, I don’t blame you if you want to bury me in your memories,”

— Mitski, "Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstances.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past.

A/N: I’m basing this primarily on the LA! version of “One Piece”, as I’ve just recently begun to watch the Anime.

Luffy, for his unyielding devotion towards his dreams of becoming the King of Pirates, evidently lacks the sense of foresight required of a pirate to successfully navigate the seven seas. Then again, it's nothing new.

You’ve always known. The kid's been a hazard to society even in his youth; no filter between his brain and his mouth despite the ungodly amount of food he pushes between his jaws. You used to watch him make his proclamations in front of Shanks' merry band with little more than vaguely piqued interest, indifferent to the youthful albeit naive optimism he exhibited.

Shanks, meanwhile, always used to find his demeanor endearing - “He’s a good kid. Let him dream,”

And so you let him. You watched him dream for the next ten years, making sure that his dreams didn't catch the wrong kind of attention until he was old enough to hold his own weight.

However, back then, Luffy's actions seldom warranted any real consequences. Save for the incident with the Bandit and the Sea King, he's rarely been in any real danger prior to his debut as a pirate.

An unruly child spouting declarations of desiring to become the next “King of Pirates” hardly would’ve caused more of a ripple effect than to make other people shake their heads and laugh. And if it did, you were there to make sure it didn’t.

Now, not only has his actions earned you the ire of the Marines by stealing the Map of the Grand Line, but it has also garnered the attention of other opponents. Far more dangerous ones than the likes of Alvida or even that Axe-Hand Moron.

It was only a matter of time.

So when you find yourself waking up in a wooden cage with the rest of your reluctant crew mates, accompanied by a head-throbbing headache at that, your first instinct is to heave an exasperated sigh.

"Goddamn it."

"Oh, you're up." It's Luffy. He looks unharmed, albeit disoriented, not too unlike yourself. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I just snorted a bottle of rum through my nostrils." You get up into a crouching position, eying your surroundings, which doesn't leave much up for inspection considering your cage consists of broad wide planks. "What the fuck happened?"

The last thing you recall before being knocked out was a Jolly Roger in the distance, too far away for you to make out properly. So, not Marines, but pirates.

You can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Think we wouldn't have told you if we knew?" The swordsman - Zoro - replies with a deadpan look of boredom on his face as he attempts to peek through the cracks in your confinement. You have half a mind to tell him where to shove it but opt for a more quiet approach.

It's during moments like these when you realize you actually miss that scrawny pink-haired kid with the glasses - Koby. He never spoke to you like this. Granted, he was probably intimidated by the way you were always hovering behind Luffy like a silent guardian, but he didn't provide unnecessary comments like Bounty Hunter over there does.

Small blessings and all that. Very small.

You provide a solid kick to the plank on Zoro's right side without warning, catching him off-guard and earning you a short-lived glare. The planks loosen considerably, probably not meant to contain you for long.

Meanwhile, you listen half-heartedly to Luffy and Nami as they discuss the potential identities of your captors.

"They're not marines," Luffy assures her. "Before I got knocked out, I saw a Jolly Roger. We've been captured by pirates."

You glance at him from over your shoulder. "What'd it look like?"

"I don't know, it looked ... like ..." he pauses in thought. "A skull with crossbones, and a red ... dot? It almost looked like a nose, if bones could have noses, but they don't."

The blood in your veins freezes up, as does the rest of your body until their voices blur into nothing.

You've been keeping occasional track of him in the years that's passed since you parted ways, and when he amounted to a considerable bounty on his head, his signature Jolly Roger was hard not to miss on his wanted posters.

-------

"I didn't know there were so many pirates."

You tilt your head at the wall decorated with various wanted posters of different pirates, some more torn and discoloured than others, some more dead than others. You can't find your own amongst them in Shells Town, but then again, it has been some time since last you were on the Marines' radar. More likely than not, your poster is hidden somewhere underneath the several layers of—

"Hey, there's yours!" Luffy damn-near exclaims in wonder and points at— Oh yeah, there it is, right above Foxy's poster, a little yellow around the edges but still holding strong.

WANTED Dead or Alive "Cross-Hairs" 25,000,000

"Oh, wow, a 25-million bounty. That's a lot of berries."

The image is well over a decade old, taken back in your early twenties, and you were much more easy to identify back then. You were sharper in some angles, softer in others, compared to the present.

You look different now. Less robust, a little older, but no less dangerous in the grand scheme of things. Your sharp eyes remain the same, a trait Gol D. used to remark upon with a mischievous glimmer in his own eyes.

"You have eyes sharp enough to cut through steele," he'd say and ruffle your hair. A sense of loss perforating your being at the memory.

Despite being in your thirties, age tends to alter the appearance of most people, and you consider that a pretty good advantage right about now as you're standing surrounded by an army of Marine officers. Given the fact that you've spent the last couple of years away from the sea without a trace or clue, the World Government probably assumes you've died or gone into hiding.

Be that as it may, they didn't even bother to decrease the bounty since last time. How odd.

While Luffy spends a few moments admiring your old picture like a child that just learned their relative is some kind of famous celebrity, Koby is less than enthralled by this revelation.

"T-That's one of the highest bounties in the East-Blue." He is hesitant to look up at you. "What did ... What did you do to earn it?"

"A little here, a little there. Kicked a few asses, stole a bit of treasure along the way. Nothing too bad." You admit with a half-assed shrug as you continue to inspect the various posters.

For the boy's peace of mind, you won't go into the less ... child-friendly details regarding your reputation. About the way you used to fight to the blood with most of your opponents, Marines and pirates in equal measure. How you'd stand victorious atop a pile of broken limbs and pleading sounds from the defeated crowd.

"Yeah, yeah ..." Koby agrees with a feeble nod. "There are way worse pirates on the Grand Line."

Your gaze happens upon a particular wanted poster, and your demeanor stiffens. Not enough to notice from an ordinary point of view, but it does nonetheless.

His sharp cerulean eyes and bright red nose seem to mock you from his picture, and a heavy feeling settles in your heart. A feeling of hurt and betrayal you've long since thought abandoned in the corners of your heart. Not even the loss of your old captain could hope to compare to it

You snap back to Luffy, your voice a little strained as you speak though you desperately try to cover it up. "Are we done here, Luffy?"

------

It's your fucking luck it had to be him of all people to come after Luffy first.

Why him?

Fuuuuuu—

"We don't need to fight." Luffy's voice snaps you back to the present. "I can talk to them, pirate to pirate."

"Not with this one," you whisper more to yourself than anyone else. The only one who seems to catch onto this is Zoro, but the moment he opens his mouth to ask, Nami beats him to it.

A discussion regarding the duality of piracy quickly causes you to lose all interest in the following sequence.

You don't trust either the thief or the bounty hunter as far as you can throw them, and the feeling is mutual in both parts. Sure, they proved useful in getting rid of the Axe-Hand, and have had thus far been tolerable enough for you not to throw them overboard.

Still, Zoro recognized you on the spot where the Marines failed to, and though Nami doesn't, your status as a pirate is enough reason for her to distrust you.

As mentioned, you don't trust them, but Luffy does, and his lead is the only one you'll follow. This is his voyage, and you’re not here to keep him from making mistakes unless you consider them particularly vital. If this bites him in the end, then you'll be there to keep him afloat.

After all, you made a promise to your old red-haired friend.

"Look after the lad for me, will you? Help him achieve his dream."

With no patience left to wait to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible, you prepare to kick through the planks. Just then, the top piece of your confinements unfold, and what you're greeted with is the pinpoint definiton of a fever dream on acid.

Tightrope walkers swinging in the air, acrobatics performing acts of impressive feats, someone fire-breathing, and-- was that a guy juggling on a unicycle passing you just now?

A circus troupe. You've been captured by a fucking circus troupe.

"Oh, what the actual fuck?" Is all you can manage to mutter, a sentiment Zoro surprisingly agrees with if the nod he adds serves as any indication.

The troupe has an audience, you come to observe in the distance. They're clapping and cheering on cue with the sign being held in the air, yet they look ... wrong. Forced. Puppets with strings embedded in their limbs, so to speak.

You narrow your eyes in distaste at the view. The hell has he been up to as of late?

In the midst of the enforced round of applause, a voice gradually makes itself more and more prominent through the masses. Deeper and huskier since last you heard it, but yet painfully known to your ears.

"No, no, no, NO! Stop clapping!"

And then he appears. The ringleader himself, exasperated as he throws his arms out to each side and effectively silencing the crowd.

"No, stop! This is all wrong!"

You momentarily forget to breathe as you watch him come into view from behind the audience. He's taller than the last you saw him, that's for damn certain. Must've hit a second growth spurt in your absence because, while you were relatively on equal foot in your youth, he now seems to have grown a head or so taller than yourself.

And like yourself, he's changed, and not inherently for the better. It's a relative statement considering that the life of a pirate is oftentimes a hard one, but it's a fact nonetheless. The years have not been any kinder to him than they've been for yourself. He still has the same hair, the same general appearance, but he's changed.

Out of the three of you, Shanks seems to have had it the easiest in recent years, appearance-wise. He never lost his smile or affinity for the brighter things in life, even when he had his damn arm chewed off.

Meanwhile, you lost your dreams, and he seems to have lost everything you recognized about him in your youth. His smile, his laughter, and even his stance had been replaced by some replica that fails to hold a candle to the original one.

This is a show master, not your friend. Then again, you haven't been friends for a long time now.

Still, changed as he may be from an outward point of view, Buggy's eyes have not. They're clear like the seas, just as they were long ago. (And his nose, of course. How could you forget?).

You can't tell if that's a relief yet.

You're not a fearful person by nature, having lost the distinct ability years ago. Now, however, you feel the tremors vibrating through your ribcage at the sight of him. That's why you decide to turn your face slightly to the side for now, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

Fortunately, your presence evades Buggy's notice for just a while longer as he berates his crew. "The spotlight was late! You completely missed my entrance!"

The sound of said spotlight changing its focus can be heard.

"And where, oh where, was the dancing lion?"

Good! While he's occupied, maybe you can find the right moment to grab Luffy and get the hell--

"Hey! I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town!"

... You want to dig a hole in the sand and bury yourself right about now.

"You're the clown guy! Uhm ... Binky, right?"

Buggy, you scream inside as you suppress the urge to yank Luffy by the shoulders and shake him until all of his limbs drop down on the ground. Fuck Shanks and fuck the promise. He's Buggy the fucking Clown, and you did not have to go out of your way to pinpoint that fact!

In your internal state of dismay, you settle with trying to locate potential escape routes. Maybe a hole in the walls of the tent, or an absent-minded guard by the entrance. You're stronger than most, with years of experience behind you, but you're not capable of fighting your way through a crowd with three tagalongs so seamlessly.

"Buggy," the man of the hour states as he approaches, still having failed to notice you. "Buggy the Clown."

No one says anything, which he takes as a sign to continue on with - what you personally regard - as a moronic long line of titles.

"Buggy, the Flashy Fool." Still nothing. He raises his arms, like a lost puppy begging for scraps of recognition. "Buggy, the Genius Jester."

Seriously, what's with him and all the names? He’s always been … overdramatic, but this cuts the cake even for him.

"Wow," Luffy seems genuinely impressed, a stark contrast to his companions, who would rather be anywhere than here. "You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the East Blue knows who you are."

A range of gasps echo from the unwilling audience, and you finally snap your head to the front in alarm. Fuck, he couldn't have used a better word than that. Granted, Luffy didn't mean it in that context, or even that word, but it doesn't matter.

Another thing that hasn't changed about Buggy... And that very same thing might as well be what snaps him out of his theatric act.

You thought Buggy finally would've noticed you by now, seeing it as you're finally willing to face him, but his eyes remain eerily glued to the kid.

"What did you just say?" Buggy asks, calmly.

Way too calmly for your liking.

Oh, no.

Luffy blinks in confusion. "Just that everyone knows who you are?"

You notice the clown lunging before Luffy does.

In the span of a second, you plant yourself between them, the only barrier between him and the clown's rage. You don't move an inch even as Buggy closes in with his gloved hand outstretched towards the boy, having not yet registered your sudden appearance until his fingers are inches from your face.

Your eyes finally lock, the blue in his eyes more prominent now than ever. Almost two decades since the last time you saw each other, and Buggy ceases his attempted assault as though time itself freezes.

At first, there is nothing in his eyes but surprise. Anger. Maybe even a trace of admiration towards the one who dared stand against him. Hot and burning beneath his irises, like glowing embers left behind in a dying pyre.

Finally, there is recognition, and the fire reignites warmer and scorching more than ever before.

He doesn't say anything at first, and neither do you, but the glare in your eyes conveys the message loudly enough that even the performers and troupe members alike know not to interfere.

"Leave him be."

You think of what to say, what you can say, after years of being silent. A simple “Hi” will not suffice, and considering the way of which you parted, there is little room for confessions.

Then, Buggy begins to laugh.

It starts out as a whisper of a chuckle, then gradually develops until he's full-out holding his stomach in wheezes, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and smudging his make-up.

He points his arm up as he tries to contain himself, and the guy holding the APPLAUSE-sign picks up on the subliminal message. Everyone in the place begins to laugh, both the captives and the captors, so loudly this time that it makes you feel small in a way you haven’t felt since you were a child.

You glance cautiously around yourself, sharing brief looks with your companions before the noises abruptly stop, having most likely been forced to do so.

When you look back at Buggy again, he's smiling wider than ever, but his eyes hold no genuine humor. No, there's an unidentifiable emotion swirling in the depths of his blue eyes that you fail to decipher before he speaks.

"Well, well, well! Isn't this an unexpected surprise?" He raises his arm to gesture to you, as if you're an exotic exhibition behind a display case for everyone to behold. The spotlight is now aimed at you, momentarily blinding your vision.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my honor to present to you, the one and only, the myth, the legendary 'Cross-Hairs'! The Beast of the East!"

Applause rings again in the air as Buggy continues.

"She was famous throughout all of East Blue for her many endeavors, with a bounty greater than even yours flashy truly." Admitting that fact looks like it physically hurt him, but he prevails. "And then, almost ten years ago, after her biggest heist yet, she just POOFS!" He snaps his fingers and lets them slowly decline for dramatic effect. "Vanishes out of the blue. Leaving the seas for an unforeseen amount of time."

It would seem like you were keeping track of each other all along.

The next words Buggy utters are so hushed that only you hear them, and his smile is gone.

"Then again, you do have a track-record of leaving things behind, haven’t you?"

Oh, the fucking nerve of this guy. You take a step forward, clenching and unclenching you jaw so much your teeth feel on the bring of cracking. How dare he? How fucking dare he?

You’re about to shout back at him, argue, throwing every caution to the wind just to correct him and scream:

("You're the one who left me, remember?")

Before you can, something taps your right shoulder. Thinking it's Luffy, you turn around, and the last thing you recall before it all fades to black is an air of red dust clouding your vision.

[bananayuyu]

Cabin Fever [part 4]

Pairing: Yunho x f reader

Genre: fluff and smut

Word count: 9.9k

Summary: Sometimes actions have consequences for your fragile body, your morning getting off to a sore start. The day thankfully offers you a calm morning, a long-overdue conversation, and a desperate Wooyoung bringing laughter to everyone, in his own special way.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, fingering, voyeurism

A/n: Apologies for how long it took me to post this chapter, I kept editing and rewriting different sections of it because I wanted it to be perfect. I realized recently how much this series means to me, I think because of how much I relate to the main character, and the kind response I've gotten from all of you <3 I'm so glad to be finally posting, and will definitely continue to write the other parts I've planned. I really hope you all enjoy!

Linked here is my masterlist where you can find the previous parts. Again let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! (it will be six parts in total if everything goes to plan)

Read part 5 here!

Taglist: @certifiedmoa @pautiny27 @luvbit3z @dawn-iscozy @artistic-rendition

@yeosangiess @drinkingrumandcocacola @smally97 @kierraperkins3 @newworldwritings

@peachyy-jooniee @lucid-galaxys-world @arigakittyo @staytinyroha @yoonjikim

You wake in a blurry haze, the early morning light shining gently in through the window. You wonder for a moment if another storm rolled in last night, if the light is so soft because the sky is blanketed in clouds. A quick glance at your phone tells you it's just the light of dawn, the sun not risen enough yet to fully brighten the room. You groan internally, wishing your body let you sleep in after the crazy day you'd just had. You lay awake for a while, eyes still closed, as you hear Yunho's steady deep breaths of sleep. You try to let your mind rest more, but soon you can tell there's no point, your brain desperately chewing through every intense conversation you'd had the day before. As quietly as you can you sit up and scoot yourself off the bed, rubbing your eyes as you walk yourself to the bathroom.

Immediately upon standing you notice the feeling, a slight soreness deep in your core. It almost doesn't feel bad, at least initially, and it makes you giggle to yourself, remembering your previous night. You hadn't expected Yunho to fuck you so hard, and truthfully you loved it. Miraculously your body had been able to take it, maybe even needed it because of the emotionally exhausting day. But you also knew you might pay a bit of a price for it now. You'd certainly joked with people like Ari, or Wooyoung, about being fucked so hard you could still feel it the next morning. And in theory it sounded like the best case scenario, like something everyone would want. But now that you were here it also felt a little concerning, that your muscles were that sore.

You were quiet in the bathroom as well, not wanting to wake anyone in the living room. You carefully clean your thighs, wiping a damp towel over them, and gently brushing it past your core to clean yourself there as well. Immediately the contact feels a bit painful and you wince, frustration bubbling in you as you breathe deeply, taking a moment to let the pain subside. No matter how many times you try to pretend it isn't true, your body always has a way of reminding you how fragile and delicate it is. With a sigh you finish up, tossing the towel in the hamper, then washing your hands. Making your way back to the library, you open and close the door as carefully as possible, gently settling yourself down on the pull out couch that hadn't been used now in days.

You hadn't had a chance the whole trip to crack open your book, and with the chaos of the previous day some calm, focused reading sounds oh so perfect. You grab it out of your bag and begin reading, the sun slowly brightening as the day starts to bloom. Yunho is still sound asleep, his breaths so gentle you almost forget he is there. Eventually your stomach grumbles and you head out to the kitchen, being met with Seonghwa and Hongjoong sipping their first coffees of the day.

If you're entirely honest, it feels a little uncomfortable seeing them, especially Hongjoong. Though you tried the previous night to just move on, to forget what happened, the tension still lingers, especially now that you know so much of why Hongjoong acted the way he did. You aren't sure if he's told Seonghwa anything yet, and you don't want to say anything that could make things awkward between them, so you decide you'll take your breakfast and head outside, hopefully getting to spend a little more peaceful time by yourself. With a quick hug to both of them you head out to the fire pit, your tea in one hand, breakfast in the other, and book tucked precariously under your arm.

It's refreshing sitting outside by yourself, under the shade of the forest trees, your book the only company you have. You normally spend a lot of time alone, so sometimes on these trips you get a bit overwhelmed by everyone. As the sun begins moving across the sky the day gets warmer, Yunho's hoodie now feeling a bit too heavy. You realize you've been wearing it for days now, and probably should change into something else. But you kick that thought aside, relishing the feeling of being in it. You don't entirely understand your own feelings yet, but something about wearing his clothes feels perfectly right.

"Hey, nerd," you hear Yunho say, lifting your head up to see him walking over towards you, his own breakfast in hand.

"Hi," you respond, smiling at him, but returning to your book. You were just nearing the end of a chapter, and you really wanted to finish it.

"You'd rather read then talk to me?" he jokes, plopping down in a chair next to you.

"Just give me like two minutes," you say, eyes still not leaving the page. Yunho just nods and starts wolfing down his breakfast, glancing over at you occasionally to see if you're really that focused. Apparently, you are, which is something he loves so much. As much as he jokes with you, he finds it precious how lost you get in the things you read.

"Ok, we can talk now," you say brightly, sliding your bookmark into the page you just finished. It makes Yunho chuckle, his eyes bright with adoration.

"I wanted to ask you a question," he says, quickly taking another bite.

"Okay," you respond, not sure where he is headed.

"I wanted to see if you felt okay with everything that's been going on, you know, between us. Make sure I haven't crossed any lines," he says.

"Not at all," you say, looking back at him. You seem reluctant to talk much this morning, which isn't like you, and Yunho feels a bit concerned. But he really wants to know where your head is at; he just honestly didn't think he'd be the one to have to bring this up. You were the one who was so good at talking about your feelings, but you hadn't said anything specific about it yet. Well, maybe you did that night you both said 'I love you,' but nothing had been said since.

"So how are you feeling?" he asks.

"Well my vagina hurts, but otherwise pretty good," you laugh, adjusting yourself in your seat to try to alleviate the soreness.

"It hurts?" he asks, with genuine concern.

"Like it's sore, you know, from last night's activities," you say, cringing at yourself. You didn't feel like you could say 'it's sore from you fucking me so hard,' but some part of you wishes you did.

"In a good way? Or bad way?" he asks.

"Um, kind of both?" you respond, not really sure yourself. "I don't hate it but it's, well, worse than ideal. I have to be careful when I sit," you say, trying to keep yourself from laughing again.

"What's so funny?" he asks you, thankful to see you laughing and not grimacing in pain.

"I just never imagined actually having this conversation with somebody," you say, smiling. You appreciate when ridiculous moments happen, and remind you that life doesn't have to be so serious all the time.

"Was I too rough?" he asks, making you giggle again.

"No, I liked it," you say. "I mean, I guess maybe, I just... I haven't really had this happen before," you say, still laughing. "It's probably cause your dick is, um, so big." You turn to see Yunho fighting to keep a smile off his face at your comment, his head turning away from you for a moment.

"Was it just too hard? Or too long?" he asks, making you burst into laughter harder. "I mean, how I fucked you y/n, not my di- ugh," Yunho covers his face, his cheeks reddening some.

"You're being so funny right now," you say. You can't help but find it terribly adorable how awkward he can sometimes be.

"I'm trying to be serious," he says, fixing you momentarily with a stern grimace, which only makes you both laugh harder. After a few moments you both calm down, making eye contact again.

"For real though, I don't want to hurt you. Was I too rough?" he repeats, truly wanting an answer.

"No, you really weren't. I liked it, I liked it a lot. It felt really good. Sometimes, with the way my body is, I have to sacrifice the future days of pain for doing something I really want to do. Sometimes I feel it's worth it. If I spent my life trying to prevent myself from ever feeling pain, I'd never get to do certain things. And obviously I have to be careful how often I do things like that, because usually it means I have to recover for a day or two, or even longer. But I can do it occasionally. I can deal with pain, extremely well," you finish, emphasizing the last two words.

"But I don't want sex with me to cause you pain," he says, eyeing you. "Is that really worth it to you? Aren't there things we could do that wouldn't hurt you?" he asks.

"Well, honestly part of the problem last night was probably that I just like, put your dick inside me without any warm up. Which was on me, I take full responsibility. But like, if you finger me first, it helps the muscles relax. Just doing that probably would have prevented most of this pain," you say.

"Thank you for telling me that," he says, his mind intently focused on every words coming from your lips.

"I liked what happened though, it was very..." you trail off.

"Feral?" he asks, making you laugh yet again. You put your face in your hands remembering everything, especially the way he grabbed you and flipped you over, and the sounds he made in your ear when he finally came.

"Yeah, I liked that," you giggle, face still hidden. You sigh into yourself, basking in the feeling of this conversation. You never thought you'd be having it with Yunho, and you realize that despite everything you couldn't be more comfortable. He knew you so well, and explaining all of this to someone who didn't know you at all would have been ten times more complicated.

"Y/n, I have to tell you something," he suddenly says, his tone completely different. You quickly put your hands down, turning your body in your chair to face him, as he sets his plate down on the ground, turning to face you as well.

"What is it?" you ask, trying to keep yourself from tensing up.

"I- I don't really know how to say this, I'm sorry if I start rambling. I just, I just need to say this, even though I think you already know, but in case it isn't clear. I-" he takes in a shaky breath, quickly letting it out. "I love you, obviously, I have for many years. But I'm also in love with you, and I don't know if you realized that. That's why certain things just keep coming out of my mouth, when we're having sex, and I'm sorry if it's weird. It doesn't seem to bother you but, I know we hadn't talked about it. I like calling you baby, it feels right, but if you want me to stop, or you want any of this thing, between us, to stop, you just say the word. I don't want anything that I ever do, or say, to make your life worse. You already deal with so much shit all of the time, and it would be my worst nightmare to know that I'm adding to that." Out of nowhere you feel a tear hit your cheek, quickly followed by one hitting your bare thigh. Yunho is staring at the ground between you, not able to stomach seeing your reactions in real time. "Above all I love you, and I want you to be happy, and even if tomorrow you tell me you never want to sleep with me ever again, I'd still love you, I'd still want to live with you and be your friend. I'm serious, I mean that. I would not hold it against you, I would not make things awkward. I don't feel like you owe me anything, at all. But you should also know if you want me to be more than a friend to you, I would gladly oblige. I know I should have probably told you this before we started having sex, but..." finally he trails off, looking up at you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he says seeing your tears, thinking he's upset you.

"No, don't apologize," you squeak out, trying to get ahold of your breathing.

"What's wrong?" he asks, coming to kneel next to you, taking your hands in his.

"I- I don't know," you croak, tears still streaming down your cheeks. You truly don't know why you suddenly burst into tears, after having such a calm morning. What Yunho said was sweet, unbelievably so. Your head spins, all the conversations from yesterday again playing through your head, like twenty radios going at the same time. It's incredibly overwhelming when your brain does this, and you grab your ears momentarily to try to make it stop. Yunho wipes the tears from your cheeks, sitting patiently as you calm yourself, as you finally wipe what you think are the last of the tears with the sleeves of his hoodie.

And when you finally look up you're met with big brown eyes that feel like they're looking into the depths of your soul, making your heart ache with a feeling so intense you can't name it. Suddenly the world slows, everything stops. It's just him and you, in this vast forest, and everything feels alright, like it's meant to be. Suddenly you're not feeling your sticky sweaty skin under the hoodie, or the ache in your core. You can't feel any of it when sat in front of you is your favorite person in the entire world. It hits you like a train, that realization. You'd never get over how kind he was to spend nights in the hospital with you, when you were so out of it you hardly remembered a thing. You could have said anything; you knew you acted strange when you were there. But still he was there for you, still he treated you the same. This beautiful, tall, talented man who could have been doing anything he wanted with his life. You could imagine doing everything with him, imagine living with him forever. You couldn't trust him more or respect him more if you tried. You realized the myriad dialogues playing out in your head had gone away, left with only one; a part of you, screaming at the top of her little lungs, 'how did it take you this long to realize?!'

"I'm-I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner," you stutter, leaning down to hug him, to hold him tight. You have so much you want to say to him, but it's hard to get words out with how overwhelmed you feel.

"Shh, it's okay," Yunho comforts you, holding your head in the crook of his neck.

"I love you too," you say, struggling to find the right words. "I mean, more than platonically, I love you. I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it."

"I thought, maybe, that was the case," he says, chuckling into your hair.

"So even you figured that out before I did?" you ask, huffing out a laugh.

"What do you mean, even me?" he responds. You sit up to look at him again, putting your hands on his shoulders.

"Literally all of our friends knew we liked each other before I did," you say, like it's groundbreaking news.

"Does that surprise you?" he asks, incredulous.

"Well, yeah," you respond.

"They always do that though, don't they? I mean we all knew Hongjoong and Seonghwa liked each other since forever ago, it was just a thing. Sometimes I feel like they know me better than I know myself." You nod in response. It was definitely true with your friend group, time and time again.

"But Yunho, if you thought I liked you why didn't you ask me about it earlier?" you ask.

"I didn't want to put you in an awkward spot," he says, stroking his hand comfortingly down your arm.

"But, wait, how long have you suspected I like you?" you ask.

"Um, a while," he says, trying to think. "I don't remember exactly, but probably the last year or so."

"Year??" you ask, genuinely shocked. "How- what made you think that?"

"The way you are with me, when you're sick. I don't think you realize the things you say..." he trails off, grabbing your hands in his again.

"Oh god, what have I said to you?" you groan, trying to look away.

"It's nothing embarrassing, I swear. You just become so clingy with me, in a different way than you are with Seonghwa. Like, in a literal sense, not wanting me to let you go. You've asked me to sleep in your hospital bed before, and nurses have to kindly ask me to move so I'm not in the way. You will sometimes cry about how worried you are that I'll leave you, in a way that made it feel like we were already together. One time you said you were scared I'd stop loving you because of how sick you were. You'll profess your love for me, beg me to stay with you forever. Things like that."

"That sounds intense," you say, imagining it from his perspective. You shudder at the thought, a part of you feeling sick at how overwhelming it must be to care for someone like you.

"Well, yeah," he responds.

"I'm sor-"

"No. Don't do that." He grabs you tightly again, wrapping you in his arms. "I'm grateful for it all. I'm just so glad we finally talked about this. I'll always love you, no matter what happens. I want you to always remember that."

You nod into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly, just as you hear some foot steps approaching.

"Hi guys, I'm sorry to interrupt," Ari starts, speaking gently. You both break apart to give her your attention. "Can I borrow a pad, or a tampon or something?" she asks you, fidgeting. "I don't know why, but my period started today when it wasn't supposed to till like, next Tuesday."

"Oh my god, of course," you say immediately. "They should just be in my bag, easy to find. Feel free to grab whatever you need. Oh and my Tylenol, it might be in the bathroom if it's not in my bag."

"Thank you so much, you're a life saver," she says over her shoulder as she heads back in quickly, nearly breaking into a run. This cabin is messing with our hormones, you think. At first the thought amuses you, but then it feels scary too. Because what if everything that had happened between you and Yunho here, wouldn't feel the same back home? What if your feelings would change? It had taken the chaotic events of this trip to bring them to the surface, and would the monotony and business of real life bury them again?

There's also the possibility that it was inevitable, that all along this was going to happen. It certainly seems that everyone else thinks that, and that offers you some reassurance. But you can't help your own doubts, and your intense fear of what this means. It's all finally in the open, your feelings at least. But will you actually date? There is so much to discuss, and although he knows a lot, Yunho doesn't know the full of extent of your health issues. How much it can affect you, randomly for weeks or even months, how your sex drive changes, your moods change, your likes and dislikes even, if complicated medical issues are happening. You know you're bound to be pissed at him, to not want his attentions sometimes. You know he's bound to be way busier than you; which could be a good thing, you remind yourself. But if spending less time together feels almost relieving in a way, then is dating really the right thing to do? Maybe relationships with other people in general aren't really something you're built for. It's not like you've made many friends since high school, and the ones you have are almost exclusively online. You feel your soreness again, like a stabbing reminder of how messed up your body is.

"What are you thinking about?" Yunho asks you, cutting off your train of thought. It takes you a few moments, but you manage to collect your thoughts.

"Do you realize how sick I am?" you ask, your voice small.

"What do you mean?" The look he gives you is one of genuine care. It makes your heart flutter.

"I- just- I don't know what this is going to be going forward, but like, I can't date someone in the normal way. No, that's not a good way of putting it," you sigh into your hands. Gathering yourself you start again. "Dating me isn't even like dating someone with a diagnosed disease or disability. My health issues are ever changing, and none of them have been truly figured out. Obviously I've fainted since I was young, but sometimes I go through periods where I barely do at all, and then other times it's super frequent. Sometimes I randomly develop an allergy to a new food, and I have to basically obsessively read through every item I buy at the grocery store to make sure I'm not accidentally injesting it. There was a time, three years ago, when I had no desire for anything sexual for like, half a year. My periods were so bad, and everything down there just always felt weird and it hurt, and I literally thought I might never feel horny ever again. These things just, happen, and there's no way for me to predict them. And it would mean that, being with me, would be different," you finish, with a huge sigh.

"I know all of that already," Yunho says, sighing himself.

"But, so- what do you want to happen?" you ask, finally getting to crux of what you wanted to know.

"Whatever you want," he says.

"That's not true, that can't be," you say, feeling dubious. "There must be something specific that you want."

"I want to date you," he says. "But I knew you might not want that, because of everything you have going on. So whatever you're willing to do, I'm in."

"Yunho," you sigh, frustrated. Frustrated because those words feel too good to be true, and as much as you trust him in so many ways, a part of you still wants to run away in doubt. It's a huge deal, trusting someone with this part of you, and it's just hit you now that you've been sleeping with him, in more ways than one, and you haven't batted an eye. If he ever did something, in any scenario but especially a sexual one, that hurt you, it would be so hard to recover. Things had happened in the past to make you understand that. You were so determined to never let those things happen again, that you'd basically stopped dating or even thinking about it. You could physically please yourself, and have your friendships to give you companionship. You'd never felt very centered on romantic relationships anyway. You had so written off the possibility of developing another romantic relationship that you'd stumbled into one without much of a thought. It made you feel so stupid, so immature. It was hard not to scream at yourself internally.

"What do you want to happen?" he asks you, placing a hand on your knee comfortingly.

"I- I don't want to lose you," you say, sighing into yourself. "And I don't want to get hurt. I don't want- I- I don't know."

"I won't hurt you," he says, squeezing your knee.

"I know you'd never intend to, but you can't guarantee that," you say. "And I can't guarantee I won't hurt you, either."

"Isn't it still worth it?" he asks.

"It depends what we decide to do," you say, eyes soft.

"I love you," he says again. It's all he can think to say right now, seeing how much you seem to be spiraling. And it works; it brings you back down into your body, into the chair you're sitting on. Suddenly you feel heavy, like the weight of all of your thoughts crashed down on you in an instant.

"I love you too," you say, nearly tearing up again. "This got way too serious and heavy," you say, trying to shake loose the dread starting to fill your veins.

"Why don't we do something fun today, then?" he asks.

"Like what?" you ask, nodding your head.

"Do you want to go to the falls, just the two of us? I felt bad you couldn't really join in the other day when we all went. If you feel up to it," he says.

"That sounds perfect," you reply, smiling at him. You're thankful he seems okay leaving the conversation where it was. You could feel yourself coming undone a bit, your thoughts running out of control, and you knew there was truly no use in continuing. You needed to reset, to calm down, and Yunho's suggestion seemed like just the thing to make you feel right again.

***

Inside you both change into your swimsuits, grabbing towels and water and snacks for your journey. Yunho liberally applies sunscreen to your body, obviously enjoying the proximity, but also genuinely wanting to protect your skin. You burn extremely easily, and sunburns always make you feel exhausted for days.

"Everyone, the two of us are going to the falls," he announces to the room as you head towards the back door. "Follow at your own risk. Consider this your official warning," he says, eyeing everyone, making you giggle at the implication. He hopes they know what he means.

You take the walk slowly, again picking flowers from the path and putting them in his hair. It's hard for you to resist your little habit, given just how beautiful the landscape is out here. You love the wilderness, but your friends and family and life are in the city, so you cherish your moments out in nature when you can. Especially when you get to place flowers in Yunho's shaggy hair, that you absolutely love. You still haven't told him that, and it gnaws at you now that things are different between you. It wasn't something you would have necessarily thought to tell him before. You generally avoided having strong opinions about others' appearances because you just didn't feel it was your place. But your opinions about his clothes, his hair, had always been a bit stronger. You'd certainly noticed it from time to time, that you reacted when he borrowed his dad's suit for a wedding, or when he'd cut his hair a certain way. Maybe a part of you felt awkward about telling him that, in a way you wouldn't about any of your other friends. You'd justified to yourself that you never said anything because he didn't care about those things either, so you didn't need to say it. But now you realized, maybe it was because you felt nervous. Because there were lingering feelings there that you weren't really aware of.

"I really like your hair right now," you blurt out, not wanting to wait any longer. You were done being distant from your feelings, not understanding them when it came to him. It was too important to you now.

"Oh, really?" he asks you, turning to you with a smile as you near the lake. "The other day my mom said I desperately need a haircut," he laughs.

"No, I like it long like this," you say, admiring your work. You know the flowers will disappear as soon as he dives in the falls, but for now they're beautiful.

"Then I'm keeping it," he says, sighing contentedly as you finally reach your destination.

The falls are beautiful today, the sky bright and blue reflected in the sparkly clear water. You set your things down on a smooth rock, far enough from the edge that they won't fall in. Quickly Yunho dives in, and you follow after him much more carefully, gently lowering yourself into the wonderfully chilly water. The temperature is a welcome pairing with the heat of the day, and you sigh, taking a deep breath before finally dunking your head under. You swim out towards the actual waterfall, breathing in the mist that forms at the bottom, the sound nearly deafening when you're so close. But it feels electric; moments like these always do, when your body is well enough for you to be out experiencing something intoxicating and brilliant. Yunho sidles up beside you, pulling you with him as he ducks through the water to come behind the fall. Behind there is a small cave, invisible to the outside world, with light bouncing across the ceiling as water droplets skip along the surface, finding their final resting place after their journey over the cliff.

Yunho's hands are on you quickly, as you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. He's holding you up, making it so you don't have to do any work, so that you can just breathe deep and enjoy the peace of the cave. In the water your bodies move slowly, sensually, and it makes you want to touch him as closely as you can. His wet hair sticks to his forehead, water beading down his face and shoulders. The gentle light dances across his face, and the steady sound from the falling water is almost hypnotizing. Your lips are on his before you know it, and it feels just right to open your mouth as he sucks on your bottom lip, letting out a soft moan. His hands are groping you, holding you up by your ass, snaking underneath your bikini bottoms. In here it truly feels like only you and him exist, and you release into that feeling, into the realization of just how strong your feelings for him are. You keep kissing him, small pecks of love, running your fingers through his hair and brushing it out of his face. You tug on it gently, not knowing if he likes that but so intoxicated by the pleasure you're feeling. Yunho groans, making you tug harder, your breathing speeding up from his reaction.

"I wanna fuck you out here," he says over the rushing water, his lips swollen from the kiss. You groan, grinding your hips into his as you lick across his lower lip, coaxing his mouth open again. Your tongues swipe over each other, you both incredibly hungry for more.

"Follow me," he says, starting to make his way back out of the cave. The bright sun feels shocking for a moment when you exit the dimness of the cave, but it feels wonderful. Like you've been transported back to literal paradise. You follow behind him as he swims towards the muddy bank of the lake, the part that boarders a bunch of trees and is relatively shady. When you arrive he lifts you up, sitting you down on the side of the lake where he can reach you.

His lips are back on yours in moments, his hands now able to explore the entirety of your bikini, snaking underneath your top to feel your chest, rubbing his thumbs enticingly over your nipples that are already hard from the cool water. A gentle breeze blows through the woods, making your wet skin feel cold. Your body shivers, from the breeze and from Yunho's touch, and you sigh in pleasure.

"Can I take this off?" Yunho asks as he tugs at your bikini, and you nod, starting to help him remove it. "Wait," he stops you, just for a moment. "You don't really answer me, when we're having sex. Do you like being so non-verbal?"

You just nod in response, showing him just how much it's true.

"Do you like me telling you what to do? Or do you want me to ask?" he continues.

"Either," you say, managing one word.

"And you'd tell me if you didn't like something?" he asks.

"Of course," you answer, feeling it's important. "I just don't like having to talk too much."

"I understand," Yunho nods, taking in your answer. He actually finds it incredibly hot, but again, it's not really something you've fully talked through yet. He so badly wants to know that he isn't hurting you, ever.

"Take this off then," he says, gently tugging on your bikini before pulling back from you. You throw it on the bank behind you, and it falls between two flowers in the grass.

Your feet sink into the mud as he pulls your legs again towards him, gently pushing them open. With your arms behind you, and bare chest to the sky, your naked body is on full display. Yunho's hands trace over the entirety of you, his legs still in the water as he kneels down, bringing himself closer to your center. He eyes your cunt hungrily, and it makes you throb, just how much his demeanor changes when he's finally truly in control. Your whole body buzzes from your surroundings, from the knowledge that you're in the wide open air and anyone could see.

"You like being naked in the forest, don't you," he says, seeing the way you so freely tossed your clothing, how comfortably you bore yourself to the world. You blush and giggle, soaking in the smells of the forest and grass behind you.

Yunho's hands slink down your thighs, finally coming to gently brush over your slit, when you jolt back in pain. The wimper that escapes you is pathetic, the realization of just how sensitive your pussy still is hitting you. It makes you upset, almost irrationally so.

"What's wrong baby?" he asks, immediately coming to comfortingly stroke your cheek.

"She hurts," you pout, looking down.

"Does she need a break today?" he asks.

"I guess," you say, frowning dramatically.

"That's okay baby, you don't need to be upset," he says, pulling you into a hug.

"But I want to do stuff," you whine into his shoulder.

"If your body needs a break, then we should give it a break," he says logically, making you roll your eyes. You feel petulant, and just want this time at the falls to be perfect.

"Is there anything that would help her feel better?" he asks, stroking a hand down your back.

"You could massage her," you say, smiling into him.

"What do you mean? Inside or outside?" he asks. You know it doesn't really make sense, the idea of massaging a pussy. But it makes sense to you.

"Just outside like, real gentle," you say, your voice small.

Yunho pulls back, gently bringing his hand down to your slit again. You inhale sharply at the initial contact, your body reacting without your control. But soon his methodical, slow movements up and down start to feel good. You body finally relaxes into it, your head dropping back as you soak in the warmth of the air. Yunho continues moving his fingers up and down, over and over brushing gently over your clit when he reaches the apex of his movements. The pleasure grows steadily each time and soon you're moaning softly, dropping to your elbows and spreading your legs even wider as your body starts to revel in the feeling.

"Does it feel good baby?" he asks you, and you nod your head, whining in response. He moves his thumb up to focus on your clit, gathering the wetness from your entrance and spreading it around. He adds more pressure to his small circular movements, the focus making your clit feel hot and sensitive. Waves of pleasure run down your legs and race up your abdomen, making your body feel sizzling hot in the summer air. You arch your back further, pushing yourself harder into his fingers, chasing the pleasure.

"You want more?" he asks, making you mewl in response. "I know you can take more baby, even if you're sore. Relax your pussy for me," he says before lining up his other hand, gently gathering more of your wetness on his middle finger before pushing it inside of you. You gasp instantaneously, again wincing at the initial pain. But with his other hand working your clit the pain quickly leaves you, your insides feeling like they're melting from the pleasure. His long fingers feel like they reach all the way inside of you, all the way into your guts, and it feels electric. Your breathing is ragged, your awareness no where else but your core and his fingers. "Good, you're so relaxed for me. I knew you could take it," he says, slowly pumping his finger in and out, focusing on putting pressure on that spongy sensitive spot that feels the best. "That feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, and you moan in response, almost whimpering. It makes blood rush to his cock seeing you so engrossed in how good you feel, the way you can so fully submit to him and your body and all the pleasure it gives you. "You need more," he says, no longer asking. He adds another finger, careful at first to not stretch you painfully fast. Once he can tell your body is ready for it he pumps faster, still focused on adding pressure in the right places.

Your moans are higher pitched now, your clit feeling red hot with pleasure. Your pussy is still sore but it feels so good, his movements mimicking the night before but not as rough, your body remembering everything that had transpired between the two of you the past few days. It's like everything with him; it builds, slowly, and suddenly you realize it's the best feeling in the world having him in control like this, able to read your body perfectly. A true dream come true, and it makes your head fuzzy with desire as you realize just how much you like it when he touches you all over, when he takes you out to a lake in the wide open air and touches you where anyone could see. Your careful, boring life would never have anyone suspect you like this and yet he could see, he knew. It almost feels fated that you went down this path, not knowing for so long what your true feelings were. Truly, how could this get any bett-

"Baby, stop thinking," Yunho says, bringing you back to him. And in a moment you're coming, the feeling ripping through you from your clit, making your whole body tingly with warmth and pleasure. The tightening muscles of your core are sore, but still clamp down around Yunho's fingers as you ride it out, your hips rolling to meet his movements. "Good girl, good girl," he repeats in your ear, or at least it feels like he's whispering into your ear, your eyes closed and taking in every sound so vividly. You finally lay fully flat on your back, riding out the last of your orgasm, your body limp and relaxed against the dirt and grass on the bank. Finally you blink open to look at him, seeing the blown pupils you love so much, taking his hand off your clit with a small 'too much.' He smiles at you, stroking that hand across your stomach and leaning down to kiss you, hungrily coaxing your mouth open and then pulling back to suck on your bottom lip.

***

And unbeknownst to both of you, Wooyoung watched on from behind a tree, his hand down his pants as he palms his painfully hard cock, trying to offer himself some relief. He understood Yunho's implication a mile away, and after spending a long time coming up with a good excuse, trekked his way up the hill to find you two. He really was getting incessantly horny on this trip, which wasn't completely out of the ordinary given his typical predisposition to horniness. But something on this trip especially, the amount of sex happening around him, made him feel insatiable.

As he crested the small hill before the lake he saw you two immediately, saw Yunho's hands under your bathing suit and your head thrown back in pleasure, the perfect curve of Yunho's back as he leaned into you, his hands possessively roaming. Wooyoung felt himself getting hard immediately, especially as he snuck around to between the trees, the threat of being caught adding to the arousal pooling in his pants. He saw you two talking, saw some exchange happen. And then your were stripping off your bikini, throwing it behind you, and your naked body was bare to the sky. He'd told you a million times how hot you were, and you usually laughed it off; but he truly meant it. Though he couldn't hear any of the words between you he could sense your submission and the way Yunho was taking control, the way he comforted you when you seemed to be in pain, and the way he reached down again and touched you differently. Wooyoung wished he could experience Yunho's domination, how kind and gentle it was. It wasn't his usual style, not what he usually wanted. But something about seeing the two of you together made him ever so slightly jealous; it made him think of the woman he was now involved with, how he missed her hands on him.

His hand provided him some pleasure but it just wasn't enough, just couldn't satisfy him the way he needed. His dick was hard and leaking in his shorts, and the longer he watched he just didn't care anymore; he pushed them down, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his pleasure, not caring when he heard some twigs snap under his foot. The pleasure was good, so good, but he knew it couldn't be enough for him. Did he just watch you come? God he needed the feel of someone else, the intensity of fucking another person. He needed a better look at you, needed to see all that he could, so he stepped beside the tree, a larger branch snapping under his weight and echoing against the cliff, making Yunho's head snap up.

"Wooyoung, Jesus Christ," Yunho laughed, lifting himself off of you and helping you sit up, his two fingers still inside you.

"Oh my god, Woo," you laughed too, seeing his boner even all these feet away. It made you feel good, your core clenching a moment as your realized he'd been watching.

"Sorry, I-" Wooyoung sputtered, not sure what to say. Desperately he pulled up his shorts, his cock creating an obvious tent in the material. You both keep laughing, looking over at his pathetic face, his cheeks red from being caught. Painfully, it turned him on even more, the way you both were laughing at him. "This isn't fair," he whined, trying to look away from your naked bodies.

"What do you mean?" you asked him, still laughing.

"I'm fucking horny," he whined again, his tone still pitiful, but the smirk on his face betrayed just how much he was loving this. "And you guys just keep laughing at me; I'm not even trying to be funny."

"What are you trying to do then?" Yunho asked, eyeing him.

"I-" he started, stopping himself.

"Woo, just say it," you giggled, loving every moment of seeing Wooyoung like this.

"I'm trying to- I need someone to fuck me," he blurted out, finally.

"And you're hoping it'll be me?" you jokingly batted your eyelashes at him, making his head feel fuzzy. "Or, him?" you asked, pointing at Yunho.

"Either of you, I don't care," Woo responded, his whole body flushed with how turned on he was.

"You don't prefer me?" you asked, acting like you were hurt.

"Y/n," Wooyoung groaned, his hand coming put to cover his face. "I know you're fucking with me," he sighed, trying to collect himself.

"Yeah, stop messing with poor horny Wooyoung," Yunho laughed, his hand still inside you. He liked feeling the way your pussy clenched as you teased Wooyoung; you clearly loved doing it, and he filed that thought away for later.

"You both suck," Wooyoung groaned, carefully untangling his shoe from the broken branch, making his way back towards the trail.

"Woo, maybe just ask someone instead of sneaking up on them," Yunho called, his tone light as he chuckled. Neither of you really minded his intrusion, it just probably wasn't the way he was going to succeed at his little mission.

Tumbling down the trail Wooyoung almost broke into a run, adrenaline from the conversation he'd just finished coursing through him. As he neared the cabin he tried to slow down, steadying his breaths as he spotted Mingi shooting hoops by himself, shirtless and no doubt sweaty in the afternoon heat. Taking Yunho's advice he decided to play it as cool as he could, approaching Mingi with a clear goal instead of messily stumbling up a mountain in a pure horny haze.

"Mingi!" he called out, making his way over towards the court.

"Hey Woo," Mingi replied, passing him the basketball. Wooyoung wound up, missing the basket completely, the ball bouncing away into the grass.

"You really are terrible at shooting," Mingi laughed, jogging over to pick up the ball.

"Not nice," Wooyoung pouted, his arms crossing over his chest. "I'm very good at plenty of other things," he stated, jutting out a hip.

"Oh, sure you are," Mingi joked. You weren't the only one who enjoyed messing with Wooyoung; in fact, it was kind of a default setting for most of you. It was just too fun, seeing him get all flustered and bothered in the way that he did. The crazy thing was Mingi hadn't even seen Woo's shorts yet, too focused on retrieving the basketball a moment ago.

"I am," Wooyoung fixed Mingi with a steely gaze, just as Mingi wound up for a shot. The ball bounced off the backboard, headed straight for Wooyoung, but he didn't even bother catching it as he continued to stare Mingi down.

"Woo, what are you- oh my god," Mingi laughed, finally seeing the tent in his shorts. "Did I do that?" he joked, pointing. Wooyoung's face grew pink again, that feeling of being caught doing something bad returning in full force.

"Well, yeah," Woo responded, snaking his eyes down Mingi's entire body. "You're out here playing basketball shirtless, how was I supposed to react?"

Mingi smiled and laughed, honestly flattered by Woo's admission. "So you had an ulterior motive, you didn't actually want to play with me?" he asked, jogging to the back of the court to pick up the ball Woo had let go.

"Mingi, I'm horny," Wooyoung groaned, eyeing him pathetically.

"I'm shocked," Mingi responded, laughing again.

"Mingi," Woo groaned again. "I need someone to help me, to, take care of it," he mumbled, his body tingling with embarrassment.

"Just go jack off, if it's that bad," Mingi replied, shooting the basketball again. It was all so casual to him, this conversation not affecting him the way Wooyoung hoped. Well, that was a failed attempt. Grumbling something incoherent Wooyoung walked away, heading towards the back of the house until he spotted Seonghwa and Hongjoong out by the trees, laying together in the grass. He walked his way over, determined to play it right this time.

"Hi guys," he said brightly, finally coming upon them to see Hongjoong on top of Seonghwa, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. They were more tangled together than Wooyoung realized, and he braced for the response.

"Oh my god, Woo, you fucking scared me," Hongjoong sputtered, lifting himself enough to look at him. "What's up?" he asked, confused by the sudden interruption.

"How- how are you guys, doing?" Wooyoung asked hesitantly, trying to tread lightly.

"Um, good. We're kind of in the middle of something," Hongjoong replied, Seonghwa holding back a laugh underneath him.

"I know, I- um-" Woo stuttered, not able to come out with it.

"Woo, is something wrong?" Hongjoong asked, getting annoyed.

"No, I'm-"

"Okay then what are you doing! We're clearly in the middle of something!" he nearly yelled, his dick hard in his pants and frustrated with the lack of action he was getting. Wooyoung pouted, the sharp sound of Hongjoong's voice penetrating through him. He liked being yelled at like that.

"He probably wants to join us," Seonghwa laughed, his body still lax against the grass.

"Oh, I should have guessed," Hongjoong replied, laughing too. A moment lapsed, the two of them giggling into each other, before their faces came close again. But just before they could kiss again Seonghwa held his hand against Hongjoong's shoulder, stopping him.

"Woo, seriously, we want to spend some quality time just the two of us," Seonghwa said, his voice gentle but his demand clear.

"God, all of you suck," Wooyoung huffed before turning on his heel, stalking his way back towards the cabin. He now had his sights set on the bathroom, his needs growing too severely now for him to keep wasting time hoping that one of you would join him. It was time to deal with this himself, even if it wouldn't compare to what he really wanted.

When he busted through the door he didn't even consider acting normal for everyone; his desperation was too severe. Ari noticed his strange demeanor right away, pulling him aside in the hallway.

"What's wrong?" he asked, her voice soft.

"Nothing, nothing," Wooyoung replied, trying not to be driven crazy by how attentive she was being. God, he really just needed to lock himself in that bathroom and get this shit over with.

"Woo, clearly it's something," she said eyeing his crotch, wracking her brain for what exactly it could be.

"I really shouldn't have worn these damn shorts," Woo sighed, shaking his head at just how poor his choice was. They truly were the worst, the thin grey material leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. "Sorry, I'm just so horny right now and no one I asked was willing to, uh, sleep with me," he laughed. Saying it out loud made him realize how silly it all was, some of his tension melting away.

"Woo, I-" Ari looked over to San, seeing him engrossed in a conversation with Yeosang and Jongho. "Give me a sec, stay right here," she said before grabbing San, pulling him into their shared bedroom for a quick conversation. Soon she had returned, Wooyoung waiting patiently with his hands covering his crotch as he tried to act as normal as possible.

"Woo, come with me," Ari beckoned, holding out her hand. He grabbed it, following diligently towards the master bedroom. Once inside Ari sat him on a chair, her and San facing him while they sat on their bed.

"Woo, you seem very in need, and well, we're offering to help you," Ari started, not a single awkward pause tainting her sentence.

"Wait, really?" Woo asked looking between the two of them, absolutely shocked. They were the last people he'd ever have thought would be open to this, mostly because he'd never even met San and had no way of knowing what sort of thing he was into. But even Ari, she'd never seemed like the kind of person who'd want to share.

"Yes really. We can, tonight, if you want to," she finished, San nodding along. They'd actually discussed this possibility of this exact scenario about a month before, both laughing at the time about how unlikely it was to really happen. But they both found Wooyoung attractive, and decided they wouldn't rule out the idea of messing around with him together. At that time San had only seen pictures and spoken to Woo on the phone a few times; still, his interest was piqued.

"I-" Woo stuttered again, his words failing him badly with how fuzzy his head had felt for nearly the entire afternoon. "I don't know if, if my girlfriend will like it," he suddenly blurted out, surprising everyone, including himself.

"You have a girlfriend?" Ari asked.

"Yeah, that woman Mingi told you guys about, that choreographer," he responded.

"So things are really that serious, between you two?" Ari asked, so curious. There was no judgement in her tone, this was just truly a bit out of character for Wooyoung.

"We haven't discussed it yet," Woo replied, his own eyes still wide.

"Why didn't you invite her to come along?" San asked him, smiling at how genuine Woo's surprise clearly was.

"I- I didn't even think to," Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head.

"You should text her, we've still got a few days. And aren't your cousins leaving tomorrow morning? That'll free up some space on the couches," Ari said, smiling genuinely at Wooyoung.

"Fuck, I should," Woo smiled, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. "I'm sorry guys, I hope I'm not making you feel rejected or anything, by saying no. I'd gladly fuck both of you, any day," he finished, making them both laugh.

"Don't apologize Woo, it's no big deal. Go, go text her," Ari responded, shooing Wooyoung out of the room. It was honestly so adorable how genuine Wooyoung was being, so careful with this woman's feelings, and it made Ari so happy to see her friend experiencing what all of you had wanted for him for so long.

***

The day pulled to an end, the sun starting to fall beyond the tree line, covering the sky in a beautiful subtle shade of orange. S'mores were on the menu tonight, the whole group of you gathered around the fire pit as Yunho and Mingi stoked the fire, their faces lit up with the brilliant light of the flames. You sat wrapped up in Yunho's hoodie again, yawning hard as you shivered in the cold air of the night. Earlier, when you'd finally made it back to the cabin, you'd realized your skin was burnt, and it only took a few hours for the exhaustion to start setting in. So much for trying to be careful, you thought. But it really was worth it today, getting to spend all that time alone with Yunho.

"How was everyone's day?" Ari asks from San's lap, a blanket wrapped around the two of them.

"So good," you smile at her, and she waggled her eyebrows at you, making you laugh. "I wish I could go to that waterfall, like, every weekend," you say, a murmur of agreement passing through the group.

"I'm sure Wooyoung wishes you could do that too," Yunho adds, looking over at Wooyoung with a smirk.

"Do tell," Ari prompts him, seeing clearly he has a story to share.

"Well, Woo came and interrupted me and y/n while we were, you know, in the middle of the things out by the lake. It was funny," he laughs, smiling at you.

"He did the same to us," Hongjoong responds, making both you and Yunho's eyebrows jump up.

"Woo I told you not to sneak up on anyone else," Yunho chastises him, laughing harder.

"Damn Woo, you really asked everyone today," Mingi laughs, smirking.

"You all are such cunts," Wooyoung responds, fighting back the laughter himself. "You just keep rubbing it in my damn face how you're having sex every goddamn day we're here."

"I haven't been," Mingi retorts, earning an eye roll form Wooyoung.

"Okay well you're rubbing it in my face how perfect your body is, so yeah, you still qualify as a cunt," Wooyoung responds.

"Did you text your girlfriend Woo?" Ari asks.

"Girlfriend?" you ask, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes, girlfriend. And yes I did; she said she has to check her schedule but she's probably coming tomorrow," Woo responds, looking almost nervous.

"Oh my god Woo, this is so exciting!" Ari responds.

"Wait, are you two like, together together? Officially?" you ask. Woo nods, that shy smile not leaving his lips.

"Look at him, he's growing up," Seonghwa sighs, making you all laugh. There is a palpable relief washing through the group, at seeing Wooyoung willing to explore a relationship again after swearing everything about love off so long ago. High school relationships can be so scarring, and a big part of you felt so thankful you never even considered dating at that age, despite at the time feeling like you were missing out on something so integral to growing up.

"And what's the deal with you two?" Ari eyes you and Yunho, smiling at the way your eyes can't even meet hers.

"We haven't talked about it yet, we'll tell you guys in our own time," Yunho responds, not angry by any means but firm enough to shut down the line of inquiry.

"Things are good," you add, seeing the curious looks of everyone.

"Your boyfriend is really cool, by the way," Jongho says to Ari, earning a small chorus of 'so true' and 'I agree' from the group.

"Thank you, that's so nice to hear," Ari responds, snuggling closer in San's lap. "You always worry what people will think of your boyfriend, especially your favorite people."

"He seems basically perfect," you say, Ari's face lighting up with a smile. San has finally lost the battle with himself, his own face curling into a shy smile that makes his dimples pop.

"Aw look, he's blushing!" Mingi calls, making you all break into giggles once again. "Here, who wants the first one?" he asks holding up a toasty marshmallow, Wooyoung holding out his plate of graham crackers and chocolate. "Be careful guys, they're gonna be really hot," he says as he pops another marshmallow on his stick, carefully holding it the perfect distance above the now-steady fire. Eventually you all have hot marshmallows on your plate, the chocolate melty inside the delicious sugary sandwich you all are enjoying. Well, everyone except you has melty chocolate, because of course chocolate was one of those pesky things you couldn't eat. Still you enjoyed the treat, resting your head against the back of your chair as you all chowed down, the group falling into near silence.

"She said she can come tomorrow morning," Wooyoung suddenly announces after checking his phone, the light from the sun nearly totally gone now. You all murmur in approval, genuinely excited to meet this woman who your dear friend so cares about. Soon everyone is done, wiping their faces as they finish the last of their s'mores, the fire slowly starting to die as Yunho and Mingi let it burn out. In the darkness of the night you can see so many stars, the sight always taking your breath away when you have the chance to see it. You lay staring up for a while, trying to find the constellations you know, your eyes eventually feeling too heavy to hold open. Soon you're woken from your slumber by Yunho, as he carries you inside to properly go to bed, your head resting against his shoulder as he carries you. You're out moments after snuggling into the soft sheets of your bed nook, your mind enveloped in a comforting darkness after the wonderful day you'd just had.

[seraph-starman]

admit it | s.w.

pairing: sam winchester x reader summary: sam’s sleep schedule finally catches up to him word count: 1.9k remi’s notes: i had sassy, early seasons sam in mind for this (so you should too !) even though the plot doesn’t match <3 (-2 degrees celcius is close to 28 degrees for our american friends)

You had advised him to wear a jacket. It was raining, and -2 degrees outside as you trekked through the forest in an attempt to retrace your steps and find where the Impala was parked. You had gotten lost after the hunt for the burial site of an angry ghost. Usually Dean was pretty good at remembering where he parked his beloved car, but it was dark when you arrived and this forest was much bigger than anticipated. At the sound of sniffing behind you, barely audible over the sound of leaves crunching in your path and tapping of rain, you stop and turn to Sam. He shoots you a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. And rain can’t even make you sick,” he says in response to your stare before continuing to walk past you.

“Sure, rain can’t make you sick. But being cold and wet for prolonged periods of time can. We’ve been out here for an hour. And you don’t get a healthy amount of sleep, which can put you at risk for illnesses,” you reply, paraphrasing the article you had memorized just for this occasion as you catch up with him.

“I get plenty of sleep. Trust me, I’m not sick.”

Dean then looks back to you both, shaking his head in annoyance.

“You two are being a real help here.”

Sam rolls his eyes.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at Dean.

The older Winchester stops and turns back, looking offended.

“Of course I know where we’re going!“

You both stop as you reach where Dean stood, eyes peering through the curtain of rain over the river that stood before you, to the trees that stretched for acres. The sun was rising over the tops of the woods.

“Here,” Sam says, sniffing between the actions of reaching into his pocket and then handing Dean a crumpled map. Dean groans, throwing his hands up before snatching the map from him.

“You had that this whole time?” He asks rhetorically before unfolding the map and turning to face the forest. Sam leans over his shoulder, before turning sharply into a forceful sneeze. Both you and Dean turn to stare at him. Sam wipes his nose as he’s met with both your looks, Dean’s grimace and your amusement. He frowns irritatedly before waving it off.

“I’m fine! Figure out where we are, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, gazing back over the map.

“I think… that we’re here,” he accentuates with a jab to the river on the sodden map, “so that means that we need to go that way.“

He gestures up a soft hill and begins walking again, you trailing behind and Sam bringing up the rear. You fall into step beside him, lumbering along in Dean’s wake. Up close you could see the dark circles under his eyes, the undeniable consequence of his sleeping habits. Hell, none of you had gotten good sleep in a long while. But you knew Sam had it the worst. Occasionally you’d hear his low-voiced discussions with Dean, spoken only when they thought you were out of earshot. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, not at all, despite the teasing and the way he seemed consistently annoyed with you. He hated talking about his dreams, feeling like he was burdening someone with his own issues. Even with Dean he struggled. You’re interrupted out of your psycho-analysis of Sam as he realizes you’re staring. Again, but this time he could see the subtle concern in your gaze. It bothered him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head as you turn back to look ahead. You recognize the pullout a few feet ahead, where Dean was already brushing leaves off the Impala. You’d never been happier to see that car, and Sam seems to have a similar sentiment as he sighs in relief. 

The ride back to the bunker was quiet. Dean was too tired to put any music in, and the rain had quieted to a gentle tapping on the hood of the car. Cas was waiting when you got back, offering a quick congratulations on your success with the ghost before baiting Dean into another hunt. Sam had relentlessly tried to convince all of you that he was functioning as usual, that he could go with Dean and Cas. He was soon after proven wrong by the hellish coughing fit that followed his lame debate. So now it was just the two of you, and Sam had locked himself in his room with a box of tissues. All the better for you. It wasn’t like you wanted to listen to or take care of an irritated, fever-ridden Sam. You’d offered him some tea to help with his throat before he left to sulk in his room, which he’d accepted begrudgingly. He still refused to accept the fact that he was ill. You had attempted to research for long enough, disrupted in your focus each time Sam came in or out of the kitchen. You finally decided to check on him, whether he liked it or not.

“Sam? I have soup,” you say through his door, bowl in one hand and the other on the knob.

“I don’t like soup,” he grumbled hoarsely from the other side.

“Too bad.”

You push the door open, receiving a huff from him. He was laying back, four blankets over his lap and a fan pushing cold air towards him from a few feet away. Empty mugs littered his bedside table, along with a bottle of aspirin and a half empty pack of cold medicine capsules. A few tissues had been balled up and tossed around the trash can. You held in a snicker.

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” you quote. Sam sighs again, exasperatedly. You set the soup (mushroom) on his bedside table before turning to the TV.

“Love Island? Seriously?”

He furrows his brows at your judgement.

“It’s really not that bad. I mean, obviously it’s fake, but it’s somewhat entertaining. Better than whatever’s on cable, I guess.”

You shrug, picking up tissues and tossing them into the garbage before gathering the mugs, Sam watching your tidying carefully.

“You really don’t have to do that,” he says, turning the volume down on the TV. 

“It’s fine,” you reply, carrying the stack of mugs out of the room, when Sam’s voice stops you.

“Can I… have more of that tea that you made earlier? Please,” He asks. He much preferred coffee over tea, but ever since you had made him earl grey, (with a bit of milk and honey) it had become a quick favorite. 

You turn and smirk.

“You like it?”

“It’s not bad,” he said, shrugging.

Your smirk remains as you walk to the kitchen and set the empty mugs near the sink, setting the kettle back over the stove. For some reason, you were happy he liked your tea. And that he wasn’t being as stubborn as usual. You had been slightly caught off guard with his change in demeanor, from irritated to benign. After a few minutes of breathing in steam, the kettle whistles, announcing that it was finished boiling. You pour the water into one of the only remaining clean mugs and follow the routine of what you’d made before, when a shadow moving in the corner of your eye almost causes you to knock the still-hot mug over. The thing clears its throat roughly and you realize who it is.

“Jesus!” You say, steadying the mug.

Sam’s eyes meet yours, expression shifting from hard-set to attentive, brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“D’you need help?” He asks, taking the mug and holding it in his hands, looking down into the swirls of milk in the dark like he was searching for an untold prophecy. You watch in amusement as he sips the tea, making a face as it burns his tongue.

“It’s hot,” you add, smiling as he scoffs and sets the mug aside.

“You need to get back to bed.”

He rolls his eyes.

“What, so I have a curfew now?”

There goes soft, polite Sam. You sigh. This was going to be a long night. You usher him back to his room and somehow convince him to more medicine. He lays back on his bed, observing you as you lean in the doorway.

“You just going to stand there?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug.

“I can leave. You need to sleep anyways.”

“I’m not tired.“

You roll your eyes, when a grin starts to spread across your face.

“Y’know, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen you get sick. Between the awful crap you come into contact with and your sleeping tendencies, you’d think there would’ve been at least one instance. But no. Somehow you avoid any illness. How’d you do it? Bribe a god? Is it something in those so-called ‘health shakes’ of yours? Honestly, it’s a medical mystery. You should be studied.”

Sam listens to your slight ramble, face growing more and more skeptical.

“Those shakes are actually good for you,” he replies.

“Out of everything I just said, that’s what you choose to defend?” You say, resisting the urge to scoff.

Sam rolled his eyes.

You look him over for a moment, before walking toward the desk to pick up the few newer balled-up tissues.

“Seriously though, you should at least try to get some sleep now. Even if you don’t want to. And, you’re probably too fatigued for the dreams-”

As soon as it slipped out you knew you shouldn’tve said anything. Sam looks to you as soon as it comes out, narrowing his eyes.

“Lemme guess— Dean?” He asks, irritation flooding his tone.

“No, no. I’ve heard you talk about them. With Dean. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I swear,” you add, “but I’ve heard enough.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“You could talk to me about them, Sam. If you wanted to. My opinion of you won’t change,” you say, voice much lower than it was before.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just not your problem,” he says, sucking in a breath. 

You sit down in the chair, facing him but avoiding his gaze.

“It can be our problem. All of us. This is really corny, but you’re not alone, Sam. Really.”

He sniffs.

“That was corny,” he agrees, laughing and then smiling slightly, “but… thanks.”

The lamp light cast shadows over his face, and you could see the dimples of his genuine smile. You suddenly wanted to kiss them, a thought that a you’re alarmed by, before it slips away.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, leaning forward to press the back of your hand to his forehead. He looks surprised, eyes flicking up to yours. They stay there, his lips parted like he was going to say something but never does. You smile, and his smile returns, softer but still present. And despite his runny nose and fever-flushed face, you kiss him. It isn’t rushed, or passionate or lustful or wanton. It’s just a kiss. But it means so much. Finally feeling comfortable. Safe. Needed. He goes rigid for a moment, before finally catching up and kissing back. His lips are slightly chapped, but also soft. You kiss the sides of his lips, his dimples as he grins into you. Then he grabs your shoulders and pulls back slightly, breathlessly, still smiling.

“Fantastic… that’s how I feel. But also- sick. And I don’t want you to-”

You laugh, “Oh, so now you admit it?”

[carlsangel]

STUPID

carl grimes x reader

(you punch negan at the lineup.)

tags: angst, fluff

masterlist here!

Sometimes, you do things without thinking which was very prevalent during the lineup. Sitting there silently while watching Negan torment and murder your family was complete torture. Coming along on this trip wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. Carl didn’t even want you to go in the first place.

During the lineup, the two of you were separated which somehow made everything much worse. You were sat between Michonne and Abraham. That definitely wasn’t the most ideal position to be in. Directly next to Abraham. You didn’t look, you couldn’t. You knew Carl had probably watched it all to make sure he’d remember it.

You thought it couldn’t get any worse but Negan decided to torment Rosita about it. You knew they had some sort of issue before all of this, that they’d broken up. But it was still cruel and just as hard to watch. Negan thought he was funny. So you clocked him in the jaw which is fair, who wouldn’t?

You were tackled and pinned to the floor as expected, you had heard the others protest while they screamed at Negan’s men telling them you’re just a kid. They weren’t planning on having mercy on you, but Negan did. He scolded you and told you there’d be consequences to your actions. You sometimes wish it was you. Glenn was a huge loss to the group, you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault.

After everything you thought you’d be given the liberty of going home with your family. But he took you as punishment. He’d told you on various occasions that you were brave. Brave makes a good soldier, so he would try and break you. Turn you into a savior, into Negan. You were under the control of Dwight who locked you in a room and basically starved you, feeding you dog food and made you suffer by repeating songs over and over. He made you spend time with the dead, and that was the next time you’d see Carl.

You saw him through a gate first, he killed some of Negan’s men and that already stressed you out to no end. You were worried about what he’d might do to Carl. You finally got to leave the dead to service Dwight and Negan once again. You held a tray of snacks for the man, it was quite humiliating to say the least. But you were able to see Carl. The look he gave you was heartbreaking. He was so worried to see you there in that state. “Why’s he here?” You ask Negan. He sort of laughed at your question. “Well the last time I checked, that was none of your business. Don’t make me take out the only eye he has.” He teases. So you stay silent, that was probably the first you’d spoken in a while.

Later that day you were able to see him two more times, once during the iron and right before he left back to Alexandria. You knew that if he didn’t have his bandage, Negan had definitely tormented him. Eventually you were back locked into your cell, but not for long because you were soon given the supplies you’d need to leave. So you do, effectively disguising yourself and escaping. You made to ur way back to Hilltop, thanks to Jesus.

There you were well taken care of, you were given a shower and real food. Somewhere to sleep. You had nightmares about the Sanctuary, about Negan and Dwight. It sounds stupid but you were worried, you’d thought about it and realized you were still an escaped hostage, they could look for you at any moment. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to see Carl. Your plan was to leave Hilltop early in the morning to head back to Alexandria. You wake up early and grab a couple things you’d need in a bag. You sneak off to a side wall and before you can start to try to escape, you hear Maggie calling you and Sasha.

You walk further into the settlement to see that the gates are opened and he’s there. Carl is there. You let your bag slide off your back and the both of you make your way to each other’s embrace, still sort of shocked. He hugs you so tightly, tighter than he ever has before. He shoves his face into your neck. “Thank god.” He mumbles against your skin. After a moment you pulled back to look at him. He looks at you a bit wearily as the last time he’d seen you it wasn’t in the best condition. He leans forward and plants a kiss to your forehead, his eyes shut as he feels a wave of gratefulness flood his body.

Soon you guys would be sitting down in Barrington house while you guys caught up. Although, he seemed to be doing most of the talking. You were very silent. “After the Sanctuary…he went back to Alexandria. People died. He took Eugene.” He explains solemnly. He looks at your face for any expression and there is none. “Cmon you gotta say something.” He examines your face and realizes how much pain you’re in.

“I just…I feel so stupid.” You mutter. He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “If i hadn’t done what I did…Glenn would be here. I wouldn’t have gone to the Sanctuary. It was bad Carl it was so bad.” Your voice trails off as tears fill your eyes, you can’t help but cover your face but all you can think of was the cell they’d keep you in, constantly being taunted and picked on.

He immediately went to comfort you, running his hand over your back to calm you down. He wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t know how to help you. But all he knew was that you needed comfort. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. It was almost like he was telling you that you were safe now.

Negan wouldn’t hurt you again, and he’d make sure of it. “Whatever happens next…you have to sit out.” He tells you, still holding on tightly. You pull back and look at him puzzled. “Sit out?” You sniffle, “This isn’t a game, Carl. This is war.” He breathes in deeply and considers your response, although he can’t agree. “That doesn’t matter to me…but you do.” You shake your head and stand up from the couch.

“That’s unfair. I can fight and I’m going to.” You retort. “No. You’re not. Not like this.” He demands. How doesn’t he understand? You can’t let whatever it was stop you, not now. “Is this for revenge?” He questions. You turn back to look at him with a small glare as he remained on the couch. “If that’s how you want to look at it, yes. But to me it’s justice. Not just for me… but for Abraham and Glenn.” Carl keeps quiet and looks at you intently.

“Even though what happened to Glenn was my fault.” You say sort of quietly, looking. down at your feet. Your words struck Carl hard. So he stood up and forced you to look at him, just to make sure you understood. “That’s not what happened- we were put in a shitty position. None of that should’ve happened anyway.”

You say nothing. It’s hard to feel any other way. Like it wasn’t your fault. Carl took you in his arms anyway, it was probably the most comforting hug you’d gotten since the start of it all. He pulled away from you to hold your face gently in his hands. “If fighting makes you feel better then you can fight. But you have to stay by my side. Can you promise me that…please?” His voice was gentle and reassuring, it really made you feel better.

You nod. “I promise.”

a/n: the rest of the match ups are gonna be done somewhat soon, i’m having quite bad mental health issues currently so they’re kinda getting hard for me to get through T-T

anyway mannnn 0-0 this was FUNNN it was just so depressing but i suppose that’s the point shrug THANKS FOR THE REQ ANON IT WAS BANGER also sorry for it coming out A MONTH LATER HDHDHDHD

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[sissylittlefeather]

Bonded: Part 3

Surrender

A/N: I was able to write something! Here is a continuation of the vampire!reader series I started on Halloween 2023. Part 2 was the last day of my Kinktober challenge and this is Part 3.

If you need to catch up, here are the links:

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, there's the usual sex and smut, but also death and blood drinking

Word count: ~2.7k

"It's easy. You kill him."

“Kill him?!” You shriek and Mary smirks at you.

“You'll bring him back, of course. You have to turn him.” You look down at Elvis and he kisses your knuckles submissively. You're tempted to let him stay like this: all sweet and in love with you. But it won't work with who he is.

“I can't turn him. How do I make him a normal human again?” You look at Mary pleadingly and she scoffs.

“Not possible. Our actions have consequences, young one. You started a process that can only be finished.” She turns and walks from the foyer into the kitchen. “Follow me.”

You pull Elvis to his feet and he wraps his arms around you.

“If I'm a vampire, will you let me stay with you?” His eyes are so round and full of affection that it almost breaks your heart.

“Honey, if I make you a vampire, I'm not sure you'll want to.” He caresses your cheek gently and without thinking, you lean into his touch.

“Come on!” Mary calls from the other room, breaking you both out of the trance you seem to be in. You make your way into the kitchen with Elvis close behind you. “He needs to lay on the table.”

“How exactly does this work?” You ask as Elvis climbs onto the table cooperatively.

“You will completely drain him. Your venom will begin the process of turning him and when he wakes, he will feed from you first. That will complete the transformation and end the blood bond.” Mary speaks matter-of-factly, but for you and Elvis, this is a decision that impacts the very core of who you are. You look down at him laying on the table.

“I'm sorry, Elvis.” He smiles up at you, doe-eyed.

“Don't be. I've loved loving you.” You swallow the lump in your throat and turn to Mary, determined to do this right. You nod and let your fangs descend. He won't taste as good without an orgasm, but that's not your concern right now. He cocks his head a little to give you access to the place you've bitten twice at this point. You lean in and run your tongue over the spot. Then, you sink your teeth into him and begin to drink.

You were wrong. He tastes just as sweet as he did after sex. Something about him is absolutely intoxicating, but you can't let it go to your head. You need to focus.

Fifteen minutes later, you pull back and breathe, looking down at his ashen face. You're so full, but you have to keep going. He's almost there and he nods to you gently before his eyes close and he passes out. You try not to cry as you lean back down and keep drinking.

Finally, no more comes as you suck the spot on his neck. You look down and notice that he isn't breathing anymore and start to panic.

“Mary! He's not breathing!”

“Of course he's not. He's dead.” She answers you nonchalantly as she fiddles with something in the kitchen.

“Mary! Did I do it right? Oh God…” You start to think she's been lying to you and shake Elvis's shoulders as the tears stream down your cheeks But of course he doesn't rouse. You bury your face in his chest and cry. “Elvis! Please!”

It takes you a second to realize what's happening when you feel his hand on the back of your head. As soon as you do, you sit up and look at him. His blue eyes are sharp and clear and if it's possible he's gotten even more attractive.

“I'm okay, honey. But-” He opens his mouth and his fangs are prominent. “Starving.”

You nod frantically and crawl into his lap, straddling him as he sits up, his hand on your neck as he runs his tongue over a spot.

“Okay, you're going to want to bite savagely and cruelly, but don't. Make yourself be gentle.” You whisper. He nods and growls against your neck. You feel him drag the tips of his fangs against your skin and shiver. It shouldn't be sexy, but it is. His other hand holds your hip, pulling you in against his body.

“Male vampires can be quite dangerous. There's a reason we ended them. You need to keep him under control.” Mary speaks and you notice a nervous edge as she watches the scene in front of her. It's true that no one has seen a male vampire in decades. She's not sure what will become of Elvis.

“You can't control me.” Elvis whispers darkly into your neck and you start to think this was a huge mistake. Without any further warning, he sinks his teeth into your neck and starts to suck the blood out of you.

As soon as the blood hits his lips, he's addicted to the way it tastes. He drinks from you eagerly and intensely and you feel yourself start to get lightheaded.

“Elvis…” You whimper. “Stop…”

Mary notices how pale and weak you are becoming and tries to pull him off of you. He easily pushes her to the side and grabs you with both arms, burying his lips in your neck as he sucks on you. He's lost in a haze of blood lust and actual lust and if it wasn't for Mary, he'd lay you down and take you right there in the kitchen. It's only when he feels your hands in his hair that he stops for a bit and pulls back to look at you. You blink slowly, trying to focus on his face with the blue eyes and soft lips, as blood drips down his chin.

“Elvis…” You plead as a tear slides down the side of your face, your head flopping as he holds you.

“Oh God, baby. I'm sorry. Baby?” He shakes you and tries to revive you.

“Hmm?” You answer, loopy from blood loss. He licks the spot where the puncture wounds were and they begin to heal quickly. He starts to panic a little that he's drained you too much. Without thinking, he offers you his arm. You lean forward with your fangs extended and before Mary can stop you, you bite him and begin to suckle.

“No! No! Don't do that!” Mary frantically pulls you off of his arm and you groan. He tastes so good and you need more. “Stop! You'll end up bonded again and this time it won't be breakable no matter what you do.”

You dive back into his arm and he pulls you in close to him and Mary starts to panic. She rips you apart and slaps you across the face, hard. Elvis hisses at her and pushes her backwards, holding you protectively. Without another thought, he pulls your lips to his and all of a sudden you're both a tangle of tongues and blood and fangs and combined moans as you kiss deeply. He holds your body as you roll against him and it looks like there's going to be no stopping the two of you when Mary grabs a pitcher of water and throws it on you both.

Finally, this wakes you both up as you cough and splutter and look around confused. Mary sighs deeply and falls backwards into a chair.

“What happened to us?” You look at Elvis and then at Mary.

“You almost soul-bonded.”

“We what?” Elvis asks, his eyes wide. Mary gives him an exasperated look.

“Soul-bonded! You almost bound yourselves to each other for eternity!” You crawl off of Elvis sheepishly and stand up and he tries to adjust so that his erection is less noticeable. He looks at you with his eyes wide and round, but the look of pure devotion is gone. Some part of you misses it.

“Now begins his existence as a vampire. You will have to teach him. Can you do that?” You look at Mary as she speaks and nod slowly. “Do not feed from him again.”

“I won't.”

******

You spend the next few nights teaching Elvis everything he needs to know about being a vampire. He learns to feed, to compel, and to clean up his messes before a girl wakes up. Overall, he's a good student, eager to learn and do what he's told, but sometimes you have a hard time pulling him off before he drains a girl completely. You really can't control him.

It scares you to send him off alone, but he has to go back to Germany. You keep in touch and he seems to be doing well, but your chest aches with missing him. He took a part of you when you turned him and now it feels like there's a hole in your heart. He sees you one last time before he leaves for home in 1960.

“Thank you for doing what I asked.” He speaks sullenly, like he's not exactly grateful.

“Elvis, I tried to warn you. This life isn't easy.” You look up at him and he cups your cheek gently.

“It's okay. I asked for it. It's my burden to bear.” The way he talks makes you want to cry. He didn't deserve this. You look down at your shoes to try to hide the tears.

“I'm so sorry.” He tips your chin up so that you're looking into his face.

“Hey. I asked for this. I'll be okay. You just… take care of yourself, alright?” You nod and desperately wish he wasn't leaving. It's stupid and impractical but you're not ready to be without him completely. Something about what you went through together has you wanting to cling to him like your non-life depends on it. He kisses your lips softly one last time and then turns and walks out the door.

But you don't even have time to cry before he's back through the door, his arms around you and his mouth pressed to yours.

“I can't leave.” He murmurs as he kisses down your neck, his fangs grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“You have to go.” You whimper and pull his hips into yours desperately.

“After.” He whispers, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you through your apartment to the bedroom.

When he gets there, he lays you down surprisingly gently and kicks his boots off. You spread your legs as he crawls on top of you, kissing the supple skin of your breasts. He opens your robe to reveal your bra and panties and moans softly when he sees you.

“You're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” He leans down and kisses the valley between your breasts. Your back arches without your control as he continues to press kisses down your stomach to your thighs. A whimper escapes your lips when you feel his fangs graze against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Can I?”

“Fuck. Yes, please.” You try to remember what Mary’s warning was, but at this moment you don't really care. He smiles against your skin and licks a spot just inches from your center.

“Good girl.” He murmurs against you and then sinks his fangs into your thigh. You gasp and moan loudly as he begins to suckle from your leg. “Tastes so good, baby.”

You almost cum just from the sensation of him drinking from you, but he pushes you over the edge when he slips first one and then two fingers up inside you as he sucks. He barely gets his thumb on your clit before you shudder and pulse around his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you like a tsunami. After a few seconds, he licks the puncture wounds and then moves to your clit. You can still feel his fangs as he begins to lick over and around you fervently.

“I already came…” You whisper, your clit swollen and sensitive.

“I know. I want you to do it again.” The vibration of his voice against you makes you want to scream. Instead, you writhe and whimper as he drags his tongue over and around your sensitive bud. The pleasure is overwhelming and you feel another climax gather in your center.

“Oh God, Elvis!” You moan loudly and run your hand in the front of his hair. He groans and keeps licking you like he has nothing left to lose. “Ah! Ah! Ahhhhh!”

Your whole body relaxes as your release rushes through you and you cum hard in his mouth. He carries you through it with his tongue and then kisses your clit softly. As he moves back up your body, your hands begin to tear at his clothing and it doesn't take long for you both to be naked, pressing your sweat and skin against the other. You roll him onto his back and settle with a knee on either side of his hips. He reaches up and holds your face in his hand. There aren't any words, but both of you know what's being said. When you sink down onto his cock, his eyes roll back and he grunts loudly.

“Fuck, baby.” He whispers through gritted teeth as you start to roll your hips against him, pushing him deeper and deeper inside you. Your head drops back and you feel his hands on your breasts as you fuck him, slowly at first but picking up speed with each thrust. Before too long, you're bouncing as hard as you can, slamming yourself down on top of him as he guides your hips with his hands. Eventually, you lean over and kiss his neck and he wraps both arms around you, fucking into you from underneath. You graze your fangs over his skin and he stops.

“No. Mary said not to feed from me or we'll end up bonded again.” You pull back and sit up.

“Oh.” You whisper breathlessly.

“Not that I don’t- I mean-”

“No, it's okay.” Your eyes search his for a bit before you lean over again to hide the tears that have gathered in yours. He curses under his breath and looks up at the ceiling. Is it so terrible if you're bonded?

Without warning, and without pulling out, he rolls over on top of you and slowly rolls his hips forward to meet yours.

“You'll always have a part of me.” He whispers as he fucks into you. “Please believe that.”

You nod and hold onto his shoulders, still trying not to cry.

“I have to cum baby.” You nod, unable to speak. He's kicking himself for not letting you feed from him, but it's too late. His hips stutter into you and he grunts, filling you with his release. When he finishes, he pulls back and looks into your eyes, moving a piece of hair out of your face. “I won't ever forget you.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. I love you.

What you don't know, what you'll never know, is he's doing the exact same thing. He lays on your chest for a bit as you stroke his hair before he drags himself away and gets dressed.

In what feels like a few seconds, he's back at your front door, desperately searching for a reason to stay. But you've held back the words, knowing he has to go. He kisses your forehead and your lips one last time.

“I have to go.”

“I know.”

“I'm sorry. I-” Your eyes flick up to his quickly. “I'll miss you. Goodbye, baby.”

You nod and he walks through the door. This time he doesn't come back.

You watch on TV the next day as he waves and smiles and leaves Europe for good. You give yourself three days to mourn, but you're never quite the same after Elvis.

And he's definitely not the same after you.

******

December 1970

“I know I'm asking for a miracle here, but I need you to find her.”

“Boss, why do you need a dancer from the Moulin Rouge?” Elvis runs his hand through his hair and scowls. Most of his bodyguards know what he is, but he still can't admit to why he needs to see you.

“I just do. Now, can you do this, or do I need to ask someone else?” Elvis fiddles with the rings on his left hand nervously.

“I'll make it happen. We'll find her.” Sonny turns and walks from the room, leaving Elvis alone in the TV room at Graceland.

He prays desperately that they'll find you. You're his only hope.

******

To be continued...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[yourcousin-vinny]

if we go with the idea that kallus grew up as a latchkey kid in the lower levels of coruscant and had to scrounge and make do until he got into the academy, you bet your ass he loved the military school routine. the routine was exhilarating. making lists and plans and being able to complete them? reliable daily schedules and meals? reliable rewards and consequences? addicting. he didn't have that kind of stability or time horizon growing up, so when he gets a routine he revels in it. he can plan for a future now.

of course, under the empire that means he (and everyone around him) subsumes himself to the routines and wills of the imperial machine. but at least he knows what to expect, even when it's terrible, even when it goes against what he fundamentally believes. and once he knows what to expect, he knows how he can subvert it as fulcrum. (imperial regularity is good for many things, including monitoring guard shift changes and tracking an admiral's meal times.)

as fulcrum though, that time horizon shrinks again. he doesn't expect to live beyond it, so what routine remains is a talisman he clings to. maybe that's how thrawn finally catches him: his irregular actions to throw people off his trail became too regular.

in the rebellion, newly defected, the freedom from such strict routines is overwhelming. some defectors go the ice-cream-for-breakfast route (or, like sabine, a clearly visible break from the empire's enforced conformity), but others don't know what to do with themselves. kallus throws himself into what he knows and what he misses: the work routine. input, output. task, complete.

the rebellion has a routine too, but in the way live theatre has a routine. there isn't always a closing bell; sometimes you hurry up and wait for six hours and then aren't off your feet for the next twelve. there are tasks and protocols, but you gotta be ready to adapt at any moment to what reality throws at you. (the empire rarely-if-ever had to adapt to what the rest of the galaxy threw at it because it was the rest of the galaxy.) there's a level of chaos that kallus is capable of handling, but that chaos is every day now. meals happen when he can get them, same with sleep, because the work routine he tries to set keeps getting broken. he never had to set a work-life balance before because it was either all life (all survival) or all work (and the empire tells you when to eat and sleep). the routines were always set for him.

so yes, kallus is infinitely glad he defected and yes, he is infinitely grateful to the ghost for taking him in, but little gods, how does anything get done?!

I think the first personal boundaries kallus sets that are his alone, not dictated by a higher institution, are about when the spectres are allowed to bother him (see: pester him to drink water and drag him to the tapcafe for a break) and when they need to leave him to his duty. it's nowhere near the routine that shaped him, and that's a good thing, but he does need some things to set his chrono by. he wakes at 0500; returns from a run by 0540; first cup of caf in yavin's pre-dawn light at 0610; draven enters intelligence at 0619. the rest of the day could be anything else, but these 4 are fairly consistent.

at some point he realizes that the time horizon he has now, in this life where very few things are guaranteed, is based less on when the mission is over or when the war is over and more on when he gets his next meal or sparring session with zeb or his next drink with rex or his next meeting with cassian. because all this work he does is for these people, and if they aren't in his future then it isn't worth it.

[princessleechan]

special treatment (m) - chapter 12 + written chapter

Chapter list

🖊️Chapter tags: MDNI, mentions of drinking, office au, secretary au, misunderstandings, mentions of insecurity and harrassment, virgin!au, one sided rivalry, grump x sunshine, grump!reader, shy sunshine!mingyu, (w.c. 911) , more awkwardness, a big accident, only one bed…

🖊️Tag list: @tomodachiii @humankimbap @aaniag @odevote118 @minwonwoozi @ateez-atiny380 @chisskaa @ninigyuuu @sarcasticsweetlara @bemybabiibish @blaycke @lirtha97 @kwanisms @nebulousbookshelf @gyubakeries @btsdomination @gyuguys @okiedokrie-main @jrinbb @lexyraeworld @armycarat2612 @cherrylita @jhornytrash @alyssa19123456 @chanichanvhan @minhosprettywife @jeon1w @perfectiondazesworld @skittlez-area512 @bmo-bri @blvked19 @leechansprincess @livixcore @jihoonsbbygirl

You had a plan set in motion in your head. Land safely, take the company car to the hotel (unfortunately the one with Mingyu in it), get into your hotel room to shower, and enjoy the rest of their five-star amenities before waking up early to work the business event the following day in the same building. It seemed fool proof. Yet, the universe had other things in store for you. 

“I’m sorry, there has to be some mistake. Please check in again, maybe the spelling is wrong. It’s all on my ID,” You insisted to the person at the front desk, your eyebrows furrowing anxiously.

She shook her head as she made another attempt typing away at her keyboard. “No, I’m sorry ma’am, there is no reservation for today under that name.”

You shut your eyes, begging this all to be some horrific nightmare as you pinched your forearm to finally wake up, but you would only open your eyes to realize that this was a reality you had no chance of escaping from.

Your eyes turned to Mingyu over your shoulder, who stood timid for a man who towered over you, eyes rounding out in concern as he was visibly overwashed with guilt. He pressed his lips together as he fiddled his fingers, the outcome of his planning not as perfect as he had thought it was. “Mingyu,” You said sharply, taking a deep breath.

“Y-yes,” He stammered, a bead of sweat just falling down his forehead.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure, I definitely booked for this hotel–excuse me.” He ushered to stand beside you, standing arm and arm with the velvet ropes posts bordering you both as he directed his attention to the front desk, hands claiming the counter confidently. “My name is Kim Mingyu. My name should be under a reservation unless I made a mistake for myself also.”

The receptionist typed away at the speed of light, coming up with a similar result, shaking her head apologetically. “No, I’m sorry.”

The light dimmed from Mingyu’s eyes, his streak of successes and tasks meeting exemplary results broken. Instead, he was met with humiliation, and in front of his coworker he had nothing but utter respect for no less. Someone who ended up having to face the consequences of his actions. 

“But I can double-check for all future dates for all affiliate hotels under our database…And yes, it looks like I was able to find both your names for this location for exactly next month.”

“Next month?” You repeated.

Mingyu groaned, running a hand over his face, ready to crawl inside a hole and never come out. Could it get any worse?

You glanced at Mingyu, initially frustrated at the circumstances but felt it dissipated into sympathy watching him bow his head in shame, embarrassed that he could make such a huge mistake. 

You raised a hand behind him hovering just over his back before stopping, stalling in air until you dropped it to your side, pulling back on a patient smile. “That won’t do. Please cancel both those reservations and book us any rooms available. Any two rooms.”

“Unfortunately, this is a very busy time of the year. Most of our rooms are booked except for one single king bed.”

Your eyes shot up, noticing in your peripheral vision that Mingyu did the same. If he had any thoughts on the matter he was keeping them to himself, but Mingyu being Mingyu, his face was an open book. You started to think of alternative courses of action, ones that wouldn’t disrupt or delay anything you both had scheduled. “Well, I see how that would be a problem. Do you recommend any hotels nearby, by chance?”

She gave you a grim look. “I believe the closest hotel within the area is maybe a 30 to 45-minute drive without traffic? Even so, it’s the busy season. They’re likely booked as well.”

Great.

“The king size is very large and can fit two full-grown adults,” The employee attempted to reassure, making your coworker immediately stiffen at the mere thought.

“A couch is also included in the room as well if that makes you more comfortable. Since this is a very unfortunate situation, we can try to accommodate both of you the best we can given your situation. Extra pillows, toiletries, complimentary snacks or breakfast. Your company has been a loyal supplier and member of ours for a long time, we’re so sorry this has happened.”

You raised a brow. “Our company?”

The receptionist nodded before making a quick glance at Mingyu, to which he quickly turned away, a subtle red coloring his cheeks from the overt attention. He took a subtle step back, as if cowering hidden behind you was possible with his height and stature. 

“Right,” You nod, making sense of the sudden hospitality that you weren’t used to whenever you traveled with the company. Of course, Mingyu got recognized. “I guess, we’ll take the single room.”

“Hey,” Your head turned to your new roommate, looking back at you as he gripped his luggage handle like a lifeline. “Really? Are you really ok with this?”

This situation wasn’t ideal, but it was the only one you had. “What choice do we have?”

“Wonderful, I will cancel those future reservations and set up that new room for you both.”

The universe was a bitch that knew how to push your buttons. The biggest, reddest button of all being Kim Mingyu.

[peachhcs]

drunk words, sober thoughts | the wonder years

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

something in will pulls him to samy's when he's had a little too much to drink after a party

1.8k words

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drinking and driving, lowkey mentions of hazing if you squint (nothing extreme i promise)

first i wanna say i in no way condone or support drinking and driving, especially underage so pls pls don't do that!! i am on a role though with these posts and wanted to write something for the wonder years since i haven't done that in awhile. this happens during will's first year of usntdp and it's like really subtle mentioning to him and samy liking each other

au masterlist

samy's eyes fluttered open when a rough vibrate shook her nightstand. the brunette blinked a few times trying to wake herself up when she finally realized her phone was going off. she reached around for the device, sleepily eyeing the lock screen and seeing she had two missed calls from will a minute ago. before she could even process why he was calling her at 1 in the morning, his name appeared again making her phone vibrate in her palms.

"will? it's like 1 in the morning," samy mumbled, still confused that he was calling her so late.

"yeah, hi. sorry, i know. i'm sorry," he spoke fast and his words jumbled together causing the girl to sit up more.

"are you okay?" she wondered, a bit of fear slipping into her system that there might be something wrong.

"yes, yeah. i'm fine. i just..i'm like..outside of your house right now and a little bit drunk."

it took samy a good 10 seconds to process his words before she jumped out of her bed to look out her window overlooking the driveway. she spotted her friend's blonde hair standing by the front door, slowly peering up and waving when he saw samy in the window.

"what the hell are you doing here? did you drive here?" the girl spotted his car parked on the side of the road below her driveway, heart dropping at the realization that he drove all the way to her house drunk.

"yes, but i didn't die. i promise, i'm fine and i was fine and the roads weren't even busy so it was fine," he repeated the word "fine" like 5 different times. samy scoffed, shaking her head slightly as she hurried downstairs to let him in before her parents woke up.

"you're such an idiot, will. you could've gotten seriously hurt or something," she scolded through the phone before pulling the door open. the blonde grinned when he saw her, but it faded immediately seeing her look of disapproval.

"well i'm here aren't i? i didn't get hurt," will stepped or more like half stumbled half shuffled into the house.

"but you could've. what are you even doing here? do your parents know? do gabe and ryan know?" samy pushed her million questions as she relocked the door and led will upstairs to her room.

"no and no. i, uh.. i don't really know what i'm doing here. i just got into my car and started driving," the blonde shrugged, nearly missing a step as he followed after his friend. she caught his arm before he fell.

"jesus, will. i can't believe you sometimes," samy shook her head.

the two made it into her room unharmed. she sat the boy onto her bed, grabbing her water bottle so he could start sobering himself up, "what am i supposed to tell my parents when they see your car here in the morning? what are you telling your parents?"

"just say i went for a late night drive and ended up here," the blonde couldn't seem to realize the consequences that would follow his actions if they didn't come up with a believable cover story.

"no one is gonna believe that for a second. why didn't you just drive home? at least that's closer than driving 30 minutes under the influence," the brunette crossed her arms, oblivious to the way will's gaze has been stuck on her since they walked into her room, but fair because she was seriously worried that he somehow made it to her house without getting into an accident or that he even decided to drive drunk in the first place.

"i told you, i don't know. was probably thinking about you and my mind and body led me here," the hockey player said it so casually that it caught samy off guard.

she finally noticed his staring, a red flush forming across her cheeks. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i dunno," the way he kept saying he didn't know was also starting to piss the girl off.

a sigh escaped her lips while she rubbed her temples to think of a better plan so neither of them got into serious trouble in the morning. will also finally caught wind of the girl's stress, so he tugged at her wrist to make her sit down on the bed with him.

"okay, i'm sorry. i know it was a stupid idea. i'm not even that drunk though, i promise. i was only a bit buzzed by the time i started driving."

"will, you could've gotten seriously hurt though. what did our parents tell us about drinking and driving? if you really needed to leave, you should've called me or anyone," samy's voice softened out and so did the blonde's expression.

"i know, i'm sorry. really. i promise it won't happen again. i seriously wasn't thinking straight," he pushed a loose strand of samy's hair behind her ear, again making her flush turn into a blush.

"what are you doing?" she pulled back an inch making will pull his hand away, embarrassment coating his cheeks.

"nothing, sorry. sorry," he shook his head.

samy's phone started vibrating again before she could respond. she glanced at the screen, ryan's name flashing across it and she quickly answered. "hey?"

"hey, is will there? his location says he's there...gabe and i lost track of him at the party. one minute he was here and then the next he was gone," the brunette rambled a little.

"yeah, he's here, don't worry. what happened? he said he drove here drunk," samy stood up from the bed, watching will fall back into her pillows and mumble to himself.

"shit, he did? i-i don't even know, honestly. we got separated pretty quickly. the u18s took him as soon as got there," ryan explained and that surprised the girl.

"what do you mean took him?" she found a spot in the hallway outside of her room to talk away from will's ears.

"like as soon as we walked in, nazar and seamus were on him. they wanted to talk to him? get him a drink? something like that. we tried following but they kind of blocked us off..i don't know. we thought he'd be fine because ya know..he's kind of buddy buddy with the u18s now and then when we went to look for him they didn't know where he went and the next thing we knew he was at your house somehow," the more ryan explained the situation, the worse samy's frown got.

"so you think the u18s let him wander off like that? what the fuck?!" the youngest hughes wasn't pleased, especially since those u18s were friends with luke.

"yeah, i mean maybe? i don't know, samy. i'm glad he's okay though. do you want us to come get him?"

"i don't know what to do with his car though. we have to get his car back up there before my parents see it and start asking questions. plus, i don't want colleen and bill to get mad and find out either. they'd kill him if they knew he drank and drove," the two tried pondering their options and what would make the most sense. 

"we'd just need one more person to drive will's car back. gabe's kind of buzzed, so i don't know if that would be a good idea," ryan sighed. 

"wait, i may have someone, but i'm gonna have to call you back." 

the two hung up and samy went into her contacts to luke's. even though it was late, she knew he'd be awake still and it felt like he owed her after finding out his friends let will drive. it rang for good three times before her brother answered. 

"what do you want? it's late?" luke asked, slightly grumpy and annoyed he was getting a call from his sister at this hour. 

"i need a really huge favor." 

—

it was 2:30 by the time samy, luke, and will met up with ryan and gabe back in plymouth. will, now pretty much sober, was handed off to the boys who had apologetic looks on their faces. 

"sorry, again," ryan frowned. 

"it's not your fault. i'm just glad nothing bad happened to anyone," samy rubbed his arm and offered a warm, but tired smile. she glanced at will who was looking equally sorry. 

"i'll see you later, yeah?" 

the blonde nodded, "yeah, see you. have a good night." 

samy and luke climbed back into her car after waving to the three. they were silent for a moment as luke got them back on the road towards home. the girl was unsure if he was still pissed that he had to do this, so she decided on not saying anything. 

however, luke broke their silence first, "those fucking u18s are so stupid." he was shaking his head. 

"they do that shit every year to the u17s who are good enough to play up with them. i don't really get it. it's like some initiation or something," the boy continued when his sister didn't respond. 

"you mean they were like hazing will?" 

"i mean, i dunno, but yeah probably. some of the guys in my class when we were u18s did that to them last year. i didn't really know about it, but i heard some in passing," luke shrugged. 

"but why will? they know he knows you and those guys look up to you. i mean it all just keeps going back to quinn."

"i have no idea, samy. they're just stupid." 

"sorry i dragged you into this," the brunette frowned. 

"don't be. i'd rather make sure you all make it back safe instead of hearing that something happened. what did will say? he just came to the house?" luke wondered and samy shrugged. 

"i mean, yeah. something like he was thinking about me and he just must've came here on autopilot?" 

the look on luke's face was unreadable, but samy caught onto it. she grew confused, "what?" 

"he was thinking of you and came to you when he was drunk?" the older brunette said it outright so samy could hear how obvious that sounded. 

"yeah? so?" she really didn't get it.

"nothing, nothing. just..surprising is all," it was late. way too late, so luke wasn't gonna push it even though he definitely knew and saw the hidden feelings between his sister and friend. 

"what's that supposed to mean?" samy didn't get why her brother was being so cryptic all of the sudden. 

"nothing. it doesn't mean anything. what should i tell mom and dad when tomorrow morning when they realize i stayed the night?" 

"just say you were missing home and wanted to sleep in your own bed. they'll believe it," the youngest hughes snickered knowing their parents believed the things luke said way more than anything else. 

neither will nor samy talked about that night for awhile. luke never brought it up again either, so it wouldn't be for another whole year that samy would start realizing what exactly her brother and will's words meant and that the blonde made it to her house because he liked her a little too much. 

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O gets spooked by something and immediately run behind skeleton to hide from danger. Main 10 reaction?

Undertale Sans - .... He's not sure how to tell you he's just a little man and that he's pretty sure everyone can see you right now. Sans is actually very amused and immediately pretends he's protecting you fiercely when, really, if someone throws a pine cone at his head, he lays on the floor in slow motion and acts like he's dead.

Undertale Papyrus - Well he doesn't overreact at all by summoning what he calls the big babies, the huge giga-tall bones, trapping you both in a giant bone cage. He's so confused when the only thing that "attacks" you is a poor squirrel who immediately panics when it sees the bones. Maybe he needs to explain to you that squirrels don't eat humans?

Underswap Sans - He prepares to fight! Finally some action! Only to be extremely disappointed that the only thing coming out of the corner is an old man who immediately gives him a weird look. Blue drops his bone and does a dramatic slow turn towards you. Is he a joke to you?

Underswap Papyrus - Uh??? What? No! No, he doesn't want to die! You panicking makes his soul overstressed and as a consequence, he passes out on the floor lol. He doesn't want to know what's coming to eat him, let him die. He's a little mad at you when he wakes up realizing absolutely nothing happened. Don't scare him like that!

Underfell Sans - You spook him as well and so he instinctively decides to teleport out of here. The only problem is that he did that in utter panic and now you're both on the roof of some random building, having no idea how to get down. What? Don't look at him like that! It's your fault!

Underfell Papyrus - He jumps a bit at your sudden movement and immediately covers you more with his body, tensing as he stares at whatever spooked you. A... A kitty? Listen now, every day he would be glad to be your knight in shiny armor and all but that's a kitty and you don't exist anymore. Edge is now on all four, petting the little cat. He's taking it home. He doesn't care if you don't want to. That's his cat now.

Horrortale Sans - A low growl escapes his throat as he scans the surroundings, nervous. He doesn't see anything and the cereal bar you're holding is distracting him. It's distracting him so much that he suddenly chomps half of it so he doesn't see it anymore. Eh, it's actually good! ... What was he doing again? Oh well, too bad he forgot. He wants the rest of your cereal bar, time for puppy eyes.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's a bit nervous, not sure what to do to help. But turns out you got scared of a tiny little dog and now he's just judging you with a sassy face. What do you want the dog to you? It's not even the size of your knee. He swears sometimes humans are a little weird.

Swapfell Sans - He tenses briefly, but a quick scan of his surroundings tells him there's... Nothing. Nothing at all. He gives you a judgmental stare, slowly looking at you from head to toe. He doesn't say anything but you still feel offended somehow.

Swapfell Papyrus - He saw the whole scene. The tree branch touching your back, you screaming at the top of your lungs and running behind him... Rus is on the floor, wheezing so hard he can't breathe. You don't think that's funny, but he really disagrees with you. Don't worry, he's going to protect you from every tiny tree branch by randomly screaming "Y/N! LOOK OUT!", and watching with intense pleasure as it jumpscares you every time. You're doomed.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Wine gives you a long stare, and after making sure there's absolutely nothing chasing you... He just walks away, cringing so hard. He doesn't know you, please leave him alone. What would people think of his reputation after that. He ignores you until you get home lol.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He doesn't care what's going on, he screams at the top of his lungs and starts to run for his life, making you panic even more and do the same. Everyone is looking at you two running like headless chickens in the park, wondering what's going on.