#he hides behind make up and he hides his true feelings

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRESrvDc/

Omg please make this an AYW one shot like imagine Luke and Ryan going big brother mode on someone messing with Eliza

This is the relationship I aspire for my future children to have. My first thought was, "Eddie needs to be told this is a joke so he doesn't freak out even more than the boys." lol

Words: 1.8k

[As You Wish masterlist]

"This gonna be so funny!"

Eddie comes to a halt outside Eliza's room. The mischievous tone to her voice reminded Eddie of a scheming goblin he'd seen in some fantasy movie somewhere. Normally, he'd associate that comparison more with Luke than tiny three-year-old Eliza, but she was certainly well on her way to earning her own title. 

A thought occurs to your husband: what if Luke and Eliza are working together? Whoever the target is doesn't stand a chance. The surge of panic has him pushing the slightly ajar door open to make sure there isn't some diabolical plan to burn the kitchen down in protest of having vegetables with dinner tonight. It's a complete shock to the system though, when Eddie sees you sitting on the soft pink carpet, cross-legged as your daughter sits across from you. Both of your beautiful faces turn to look at him and Eddie is simultaneously amused and leery of the maniacal smile on Eliza's small pink mouth. 

"Um..." Eddie hums, eyes going back and forth between you and Eliza. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, nothing," you say far too casually to be believable. 

"We gonna get the boys!"

Eliza's admission has you looking back at her, internally reminding yourself that it's good she tells the truth—even if she's a snitch at the moment.

Eddie chuckles and rests his shoulder against the doorjamb. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows at the two of you.

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm!" Eliza replies. "Cause they ate my noodles. After Mama writed my name on them!"

It doesn't surprise Eddie in the least. The two growing teenage boys would eat anything and everything in sight. He never thought his food would be safer in the fridge at work than in the one at home. 

"What exactly are we planning, ladies?" Eddie cocks an eyebrow, making you feel like a child right alongside your kid. "Not anything I'll have to clean up after, I hope."

"Oh, don't worry." You wave a dismissive hand at your husband. "It's just a joke to see how they react."

"To what?"

"Shhh!" Eliza pushes herself up and rushes forward to cover your mouth with her little hands. It's impossible not to laugh against her palms as she looks at you with imploring eyes. 

Gently, you remove her hands from your face and tug her so she's sitting in your lap.

"Nothing bad," you assure Eddie. "I promise."

Eddie didn't need you to tell him that; he trusts you with not only his own life but the lives of all the kids as well. You would never do anything that would hurt them. 

"Can I watch?" he asks.

Eliza nods. "But you gotta hide!"

"Where?"

"They're watching tv, right?" you ask, maneuvering Eliza to the side so you're able to stand up. 

"Yeah. Some movie with Jack Black starting a band of children."

Eliza grabs your hand in hers as the two of you head towards the door. 

"We'll walk through there and into the kitchen," you explain. "You can stay in the hallway and peek out. And remember..." You reach up and lovingly tap Eddie's right cheek. "What we're going to say isn't true. It's part of the prank."

Eddie's brow furrows and he tilts his chin up.

"That doesn't sound reassuring."

"Is a joke, Daddy!" Eliza explains, making you giggle. 

"Alright, alright," Eddie laments, leaning down to playfully pinch her nose. She swiftly bats his hand away and ducks between the two of you out into the hall. 

You follow out behind her, motioning for your husband to follow behind—but at a distance. He nods in understanding and keeps a few paces behind his favorite girls. 

As you approach the living room, Eliza starts to giggle. You widen your eyes at her and hold your finger up to your lips, reminding her she has to act serious if she wants her brothers to buy your act. She nods and follows your lead to take a deep breath. 

You motion for her to head out into the room the boys are relaxing in. She strolls out, alarmingly casual for a three-year-old playing a prank. Before you follow out after her, you look over your shoulder and share a look of amusement with Eddie.

"Your daughter," you whisper, not giving your husband time to respond before following behind her. Quietly, you clear your throat in preparation for your first line: "Are you serious?" You internally wince as your voice comes out a tad dramatic, but you have to keep it mildly louder than usual to catch the boys' attention. 

Eliza's small stride allows you to be at her side a moment later. You check on your sons out of the corner of your eye and see them lounging on the two couches in the living room, faces blank and devoid of a care in the world as they watch the movie. 

"A boy pushed you down on the playground today?" you ask, turning your attention to Eliza at your side. 

"Mhmm," she hums, only the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

In your peripheral vision you see Ryan turn his head in your direction. His posture straightens a little, his attention securely locked in on your prank. 

"How old was he?" you ask Eliza.

"Eight."

"An eight-year-old pushed Eliza down on the playground?" Ryan shouts, practically launching himself out of his seat. 

"What?" Luke adds, voice booming as his brother's words pull him in. He jumps off the couch and both teenage boys cut off your and Eliza's path to the kitchen, forcing the two of you to come to a halt.

On one hand, this is the hardest it's been so far to keep yourself from breaking character. On the other hand, seeing the true concern and ire in the eyes of Eliza's big brothers is moving. The protectiveness they have for their little sister and the readiness to defend her at the drop of a hat is so touching that you fight tears from filling your eyes. 

"What happened?" Ryan demands.

"Were you with Grandpa? Did he see it?" Luke questions.

You expect Eliza to crack right there, let out a loud laugh, and tell her brothers that they should see the looks on their faces. Instead, she proves to be a master at improv as she replies. 

"It was behind the slide. He didn't see."

"Did you tell him?" Luke takes a step closer, practically towering over the three-year-old. 

"No."

"Why not?" Ryan is almost shouting at this point. 

"Who was it?" Luke asks, not allowing Eliza a moment to answer the older Munson brother's question. "Do you know him?"

"How would she know an eight-year-old?" Ryan asks, turning to look at the thirteen-year-old.

"I don't know. How did she know he was eight then?" Luke squabbles. 

As if knowing this is the moment that neither of you could keep the ruse up any longer, both you and Eliza break into a devious bout of giggles. 

The confused look on the boys' faces is enough to make you and Eliza laugh even harder.

"I don't think this is funny," Ryan says.

"But it's not true!" Eliza yells, jumping up and down in excitement.

"What?" The look on Luke's face is reminiscent of when he found out his favorite cereal brand had been discontinued. 

"We pranked you!" Eliza shoves her finger into their faces, an evil grin on her own. 

You can see the gears turning in both boys' heads as they take in her words and try to comprehend what is happening. 

"No one pushed me!"

Luke tilts his head to the side before running his hands over his face. "I'm so confused."

"This is Eliza's little payback for you two eating her macaroni and cheese," you explain, planting your hands on your hips. 

"You were in on this?!" Luke's shock causes his changing voice to crack. 

"Girls gotta stick together." You hold your hand out towards your daughter, and she jumps up and slaps a high five against it.

Ryan groans and drops his head back, glaring up at the ceiling.

"You guys suck," he complains. "I was really worried!"

"I have been betrayed." Luke mimes getting stabbed in the heart and crumbles down on the carpet. Eliza laughs and starts to crawl on top of him. Waiting for the right moment, Luke snatches his little sister to his chest and starts tickling her.

She squeals and starts squirming around in his grip.

"Nooooo! Ryan, help!"

The fifteen-year-old scoffs and folds his arms across his chest.

"No way, squirt. Not after that."

"Mama!" Eliza calls through her peals of laughter. "Help me!"

Before you can even take a step toward the two of them on the ground, Ryan comes forward and wraps his arms around you. It's an approximation of a hug, but it's really to keep you where you are; standing a couple of feet away with your arms locked against your sides.

"Ryan!" You laugh.

"What?" he asks, unable to keep from chuckling himself. "I'm just hugging you!"

"Lies!" Eliza yells.

"You're one to talk!" Ryan calls back. 

"Daddy!" It's Eliza's last attempt at help.

"He's not here to help you," Luke taunts, adding an evil laugh for emphasis. 

"Yes huh!" Eliza squeaks.

As calmly and casually as can be, Eddie strolls out from the hallway and eyes the four members of his family, slipping his hands into his pockets as he watches it all.

"What's up, sweet pea?" he asks. 

She shrieks as Luke tickles a particularly vulnerable spot. 

"Help!"

"Pick a side, Dad," Ryan says.

"Choose wisely!" Luke adds. 

"I'm his baby!" Eliza argues.

"But you guys said girls stick together and he's not a girl!" Luke reasons. "He should be on the guys' side!"

"Hmm." Eddie lazily tilts his head to the side, his fading brown curls falling against his shoulder. "You both make excellent points."

"What about me?" you ask, struggling in Ryan's hold. "I'm your wife!"

"But you've known us longer!" Ryan retorts. 

"I think I'll stay impartial." Eddie shrugs, keeping a bored expression on his face. "Maybe I'll go make some macaroni and cheese."

"The root of all evil," Luke laments with a sigh, ceasing his attack on Eliza. The little girl is quick to slip from his grasp, immediately running up to Ryan and attempting to shove him away from you.

"Get off Mama!"

"I'm just hugging her," Ryan says, planting his feet to resist her impressive strength. 

"Daddy, help!"

Eddie shrugs. "Sure." He takes a step forward and scoops Eliza up, tossing her over his shoulder as if she were a rag doll. 

"No!" 

Her legs flail but Eddie keeps a strong grip around her middle. Small hands pound against his back, but Eddie ignores all attempts at escape as he keeps walking into the kitchen. Tired from fighting off Luke a moment ago, Eliza lets her body go limp over her father's shoulders. She heaves a sigh filled with the exasperation of someone three times her age.

"Boys."

[eddiesvixen]

Just Like Paradise

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳, 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁, 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗶𝗰𝘀 (𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘁𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝘆), 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝘄𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗝𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗺 𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲, 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟵

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗻𝘁: 𝟯.𝟳𝗸

the first chapter of Open ‘til Midnight

Friday mornings always start off simple for you. You wake up, get yourself clean and dressed up for work. Maybe have breakfast but if not, you usually pack some snacks to munch on behind the counter or go with Eddie to the diner near the store.

Eddie.

Your friend, best friend even. Since attending elementary school together, to summer concerts to working at Empire for 4 years now, you two are the closest friends. You look after each other, care for each other, dream of each other. Actually that might just be you.

The blaring horn of his van rings your ears as he approaches the curb.

“Sorry i’m late sweetheart.” He grins from the van, leaning over to open the door for you.

You sigh and climb into the passenger seat. “It’s fine. I like smelling like sweat during a long shift,” you remark sarcastically.

He groans and pulls off. “Wasn’t my fault, ozzy’s being a pain in my ass.”

“He scratch up another cd?”

“No, little shit keeps hiding my lanyard. Gonna have to make an entirely new one today.”

You laugh. “Oh, Hop’s gonna kill you. That’s like the third-”

“Third one this month?” He smirks, “He’ll have to catch me first.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re wearing a new perfume. Trying to impress someone?” He wiggles his brows suggestively, even more so teasingly.

“Can’t a girl just smell good?”

“Well yeah but you’re not fooling me. I remember when you wore that new skirt to impress that guy at the garage show in November, so.. spill.”

Damn you, Eddie. Why’s he so observant?

“Is it that blonde guy who buys all the Aerosmith? Because let me tell you, I’ve seen him pull at the doors too many times. They cleary say push.” He smiles.

“Aren’t you the guy who locked himself in the supply closet during a closing shift?”

He frowns, though there isn’t any real sadness behind it. “Sweetheart, that was one time. And how was I supposed to know that the lock was jammed.”

You giggle. “Yeah well don’t forget it tonight. Closing with you and Harrington just sounds like disaster waiting to happen.”

He smirks. “Give the guy some slack.”

“If he spent less time flirting with customers and more time pricing the cds we’d be alright.”

“And you don’t flirt with customers?” His smirk is accompanied by yet another raise of his brows.

“Shut it, Munson. Or I’ll make Hop put you on booth duty.”

Eddie cringes and shakes his head. “You’re so cruel.”

“And very hungry.”

He pulls into the parking lot of the diner. “Well we’ve got a solid 18 before the store opens so.. lets eat.”

~~~~

You’re full and grinning when you walk into the store with Eddie. You find yourself smiling everytime you walk into the store. On your worst days and nights, you’ve never been more grateful to work in a place like Empire, consistently surrounded by things and people you love.

When you walk into the back room you head into the employee restroom. Fixing your hair as you look into the mirror you do a smell check. Yeah.. the perfume is great. There’s no way you’d ever tell Eddie you wore it for his reaction alone.

Just like you wore these true religion jeans for his reaction. Curvy and dark wash, the bootcut flattering your curves. The cropped band tee on your body. You even did your makeup a little differently. A new lip combo you only miss he’d ruin.

You run your hands over your body. Feels good, looks good-

Knock, Knock.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there again.”

The voice is muffled by the door and still very amusing to hear. You open the door.

“Geez Harrington, what ever would I be doing in the restroom?”

His brows raise. “Oh, thought you were Munson.”

You smile, challenging him a bit. “What did you think Eddie was doing?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs but your mind isn’t gonna rest on the matter so he changes the topic quickly. “Listen, Hop said he wants to see you in his office anyways.”

“Me?” You don’t worry. It’s no secret that Jim loves all of his employees, his most reliable being you.

“Yeah. I’ll find Eddie next. Think it’s about our closing shift.”

He follows you as you walk towards Jim’s office. “Cool. I think Eddie just went to make a new ID.”

“Another?!” Steve laughs and shakes his head.

“Says ozzy hid it from him.”

“This guy and his cat. Okay, i’ll go get him.”

You nod and with that give a nice knock before walking into Jim’s office.

“Morning.” You grin.

He greets you by name. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Good. Steve said you needed to see me?”

“Right, your closing shift. Listen, i’m gonna need to leave the store a bit early tonight.”

“Is everything alright?” He usually never leaves. He loves the place just as much as any of you.

“Everything’s fine. But just for tonight, I am leaving you in charge of the store.”

You smile. “Me? Are you sure?”

“I trust you.”

“You know, Chrissy’s coming in at 2 if you wanna ask her? Or maybe Robin?”

“You shying away from your opportunities?” He raises a brow.

“No! Just, sounds like a big responsibility is all. Plus I kinda stay in the metal section all day.”

“And that’s okay. I’m just telling you work freely today. Wherever you’re needed, just like me. Can you do that?”

“Of course.” You smile. “Won’t let you down.”

~~~~~~

By 1pm, the crowd of customers is chill, but growing per usual. Customers take up the listening booths, others reading vinyl covers and checking out the clearance section. Jonathan’s cleaning the booths, Steve organizes the pop section and doubling on another task, reading an article on the next Duran Duran album. Eddie’s across the store, talking to a customer. Some older guy who’s definitely judging how he’s dressed and he still does it with a smile.

“It’s just totally ridiculous.” Robin says eyeing down your expression.

You turn to face her. “What?”

“Oh nothing just, you know, watching my idiot friends who clearly want a piece of each other do absolutely nothing about it.”

“Robin for the millionth time. Friends. Platonic with a capital P. Those are literally your words.”

“Uh, yeah. Because im a lesbian and Steve’s a nut. That’s platonic. But two people who share beds, share drinks, share underwear-”

Your eyes widen. “Okay that was one time.”

She smiles. “Once during movie night, another after leaving the pool.”

“Okay well movie night I bled through mines so I had no choice. And as for the pool, my clothes were drenched Rob. What was he supposed to do, let me freeze my bare ass off?”

“Fine whatever. That still doesn’t mean you dont wanna bone each other.”

You cringe. “Bone? Please don’t tell me that’s what you and Vickey call it.”

“Well at least someone’s getting some.” She winks. “But seriously, are you not gonna talk to him about this?”

“No, Robin. Look at this place. Look at me and Eddie. That’s my best friend. I don’t need some little feelings getting in the way of that.”

“Getting in the way of what?” Eddie says from behind you.

“Geez Munson are you trying to give us a heart attack?”Robin rolls her eyes.

Eddie laughs. “Excuse me for doing my job.” He tucks some cds under the shelf and holds one behind his back.

“Whatcha got there, rockstar?” You raise a brow.

“Just a little surprise for my favorite metalist.”

Robin teasingly mouths the word favorite before she walks off with a stack of vinyls. You grin and focus back on the cd.

You gasp. “Holy shit.” You take the cd. “Skyscraper?! Where the hell did you even find this?”

The sold out pretty quickly when they hit the shelves. In all honesty who doesn’t love David Lee Roth.

“Under the shelf in the break room. Dropped my ID and he was hiding under the sofa.” He smirks, proud of the smile he caused on your face.

“Wow. Thanks Eddie.” You smile.

“No need for that. But how about we give him a spin for the speakers, give everyone a taste of last year?”

“Deal.”

Eddie pops the cd in, and plays it loud for the intercom of the store. From Knucklebones to Just like Paradise, you smile and dance a bit behind the counter as you scan in your cds. Leaving a small wave to Hopper as he exits the store at 2 and Chrissy walks in. Time for you to leave the counter and become manager.

~~~~~

You grabbed a clipboard and got to checking and making sure things were in place. Vinyls, check. Bathrooms, clean. Customers, attended to. When the clock strikes 5pm you decide to take a break.

In the back room, you sit on the sofa and take off your boots, letting your feet rest on the rug. The soft cotton of your socks nuzzling the scratchy fuzz of the rug beneath your feet. You look around the room. Pics of everyone on the walls. The rolling stones, heavy metal and well.. playboys on the coffee table. The staff lockers decorated for each employee. It’s comforting. A home away from home.

You put on your walkman and rest your eyes as Biff Byford sings.

Lady face the morning sun

the sunlight in your hair

Northern Lady, you’re the one

You’re so relaxed and enjoying the music that you don’t hear the door open. Eddie walks in and sits down a box of damages. He looks at you, enjoying seeing you so relaxed. He walks over and watched you for a bit. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes kiss your skin. He gently nudged your knee with his and you open your eyes, smiling and removing your headphones.

“Hey, everything okay?”

He looks at the tape and gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like someone stabbed him.

“Listening to Saxon without me, sweetheart? I thought you cared about me.” He flops onto the sofa and falls out dramatically over your lap, failing to hide his grin you start to laugh.

“So dramatic!” You try to shove him off but he won’t go.

“I think i’m dying, sweetheart. Tell the others I love them.”

You frown a bit. “No love for me?”

He thinks for a bit rubbing his chin and you giggle and flip him off at the hesitation.

“Screw you.” You grin and shove him and stand, causing his mop of hair to flop onto the sofa with the rest of his body. He’s grateful of the angle he fell at, moving his hair from his eyes to see the sight of you bending over and digging through the box of damages. The way they shape your ass does plenty for him. He’s suddenly a huge fan of true religion.

“Someone stole a Wham cd?” You giggle and shake the empty cd case.

“That’s not even the worst part. Dig deeper and you’ll see that someone actually stole not one, not two, but three Cyndi Laupner tapes.” He stands and walks over to stand next to you.

“Wow. And they think we’re the criminals for listening to a little metal.”

Chrissy’s voice comes through the intercom. “Help needed in aisle 8.”

They always call for you or Eddie to attend to the metal section since you’re the only two who actually knows what a customer means when they ask about Metallica tapes with and without Dave Mustaine.

“I got this one sweetheart. You take this break, okay?”

You nod. “Thanks Eddie, I owe you.”

“No worries.” He grins and walks out.

As you look through the tapes you see one that warms your heart. A beatles tape with a red sticker on it, a pentagram drawn on the sticker.

When Eddie leaves stickers on different tapes, he wants you to hold them for him. And you know exactly why he chose the beatles tape. His mother loved their music. Eddie told you about how she would sing to him and let him dance on her toes. Elizabeth Munson was an angel, and she birthed the most sweetest boy who marks tapes now in her own remembrance.

It makes you think of your parents. How nice things were before your mother started cheating on your father with her coworkers. You remember how she’d tell you to play outside. “Go ride your bike!” That’s what you got told most summers while she’d have company over, only to come back later to hear your father angry and yelling about her infidelity.

“Is this what you want for our daughter?!”

“She wasn’t here!”

“And who was she with? She’s eight years old, she’s not blind!”

“Well i’m tired of your shit!”

“What shit?! My consistent work of two jobs to keep my family out of the street?!”

“You never make love to me anymore!”

For hours, they’d argue. Screaming and fussing. Glass breaking, cursing, your mother threatening to take you from your father, claiming youre both better off without him. When nights got really bad, you snuck out and stayed at Eddie’s.

He’d given you his bed and when you begged him not to leave, you swore you saw him tear up. Eddie never cries in front of anyone, but that night he knew you needed someone. Needed him. And as his mother’s tapes helped him when times were rough, it helped you too.

But all of these friends and lovers

There is no one compares with you

The beatles would sing and Eddie would rub your back as you cried, crying until your body goes slump and you fall asleep. You always swore to take care of each other, and even now looking at the tape, you remember it all and it somehow feels bittersweet. You showed each other what love is

~~~~~~

“Mm… marry Patrick Swayze, kiss George Michael, kill Nikki Sixx.”

You gasp at Chrissy’s obnoxious opinion.

“Are you kidding me? You’d kill Nikki Sixx?” You help her dust off the record player and move to the register together to count the cash from the day’s end.

“Well Patrick’s so hot,” she smiles. “And besises I can’t kill George Michael he’s like the heart of pop, next to Michael Jackson anyways.”

“You blow my mind.” You shake your head and she looks at the guys upstairs, cleaning out the listening booths. And you both zero in on Eddie with his walkman headset on.

“What do you think he’s listening to?” She looks at you.

Eddie’s not headbanging or dancing, which he would usually do if he were listening to metal, which means he isn’t. You have a hunch it’s the beatles tape, but that’s personal. Something Eddie confided in you about. So you shrug.

“Maybe some Journey? Or a Billy Idol tape. I did see him bring one up here earlier.”

She grins, tilting her head as she watches Eddie. “Journey, huh? That doesn’t seem very Eddie.”

You chuckle. “You’d be surprised. He’s got layers, like an onion.. or I guess those burgers he likes so much from Lucky’s. There’s always something unexpected hiding in that mane.”

She snorts at the metaphor and leans against the counter, her gaze drifting back to Eddie. “I wanna ask but then again I don’t. Feels like peeking into his diary.”

“Yeah,” you agree, lowering your voice as if Eddie might hear you. “He’s always so private about his walkman but just blasts his music in his van, it’s so silly.”

She studies you for a second, a slow smile forming across her face. “You know him better than anyone.”

You shrug, pretending not to care as much. You tske much pride in knowing so much about Eddie, but you shove those feelings down to avoid Chrissy causing a scene. “Yeah I guess. We’ve been through a lot together so I can’t help but look out for him.”

“Sure.” She says simply, smirking a bit as she starts to count change from the register. You want to ask her what’s so funny or to knock it off, same as you told Robin earlier.

Before you can respond, Eddie pulls off the headphones and looks down at you both. “What’re you whispering about down there?” he calls, his voice teasing but curious. He removes his headphones and ruffles his hair, not wanting to have a dent.

You smirk and call back, “Your deep, dark secrets. Hope you’re not listening to Careless Whisper up there.”

Eddie flips you off with a grin, and you catch the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks. His smile grows when you and Chrissy flip him off in return.

“I bet you’d love that princess.”

Steve comes up to the register. “Booths are all clean. Did the back room, I think we’re ready for closing.”

“Okay. I um.. I have to stay behind. Jim left me in charge and I’ve gotta count the cash and take it to the bank.”

“Okay.” Steve raises a brow. “You gonna be okay alone?”

“Yeah, i’m fine. It’s late and you’re opening tomorrow you should go.”

He nods and hugs you. Chrissy joins in and Eddie yells from upstairs. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Shut up.” You all say in unison. But you laugh when you hear his sneakers scruff down the stairs and the hug gets tighter as he joins in.

“Assholes. Every single one of you.”

“Dude don’t ruin it.” Steve says as he sighs.

When you all pull back Steve and Chrissy leave. You put on the same David Lee Roth cd from earlier. You start to dance around a bit, thinking you’re alone in the store. But then you hear singing and you turn around to see Eddie pretending to sing with the broom. You laugh.

“Seriously?”

“What you don’t like my moves?” Eddie shakes his hips, his chains on his jeans smacking the pole of the broom.

“Nerd.” You roll your eyes and grin taking the cash back into Jim’s office and Eddie follows.

“Look at assistant manager.” He smirks and sweeps a bit.

As you sit in the chair it does feel amazing. Eddie knows you’d love to be assistant manager here. This store is your everything. His everything.

“He didn’t say that.”

“But it feels like he will. You know you’re his favorite.” Eddie grins.

“Yeah well,” you place the cash into the cash pouch and start writing down the checks in the manager’s journal. “If he does, maybe it won’t be so different. I’d still be on the floor with you guys.

“We know.” He gives you a heart warming grin. “Maybe you wanna grab a bite? I was gonna get a pizza. Don’t have much lying around at home right now.”

You don’t answer him. You can’t. Not when your heart skips a beat, not when you place the cash pouch into the bottom left drawer and see the orange paper lying there. You lift it and read.

“Uh.. you okay?” He stops sweeping and grows concerned for you.

“It’s the store..” You shake your head and Eddie walks around the desk, taking the paper as he sees you biting your lip nervously. He gently grips your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you as he reads. You can his eyebrows sink more and more.

To Jim Hopper,

Empire Records is due to purchase for Nine Thousand Dollars by June 1, 1989. If you fail to meet the deadline, your contract of ownership will expire. I will more than happy to convert the store on behalf of the American Society of Language and Literature. A new environment for educational purposes and more family friendly activities aside from the provocative musical acts it promotes now.

Best of Luck, Larry Bassinger.

“Who the hell is Larry Bassinger?” Eddie squints as he tosses the paper onto the desk.

“I don’t know.” You look at Eddie. “But the first is just 8 days away.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Screw that, he’s full of shit. He can’t buy Empire, this is our store. It’s Jim’s store!”

“Eddie.” You shake your head and stand. “Calm down. We can’t let anyone know we saw this.. not yet.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his hair, his dark curls bouncing as he starts to pace the small office. “How the hell am I supposed to calm down? Some stranger is swooping in to take the one place in this town that doesn’t suck, and we’re just supposed to sit on this?”

You grab his arm, forcing him to stop. “We don’t know anything for sure, okay? This could be a scare tactic or… or even a mistake. But if we start running our mouths everyone else will start panicking too.“

Eddie picks up the paper from the desk again, his eyes scanning it one more time. “Eight days. We don’t have much time.”

“We’ll figure this out okay? But I need you to not lose your mind. Jim trusts us okay? We have to trust him too.”

“We can’t sit by and watch him face this alone either.”

“And we won’t.” You nod and look into Eddie’s eyes. That tinge of fear behind all of his anger. Empire’s home to all of you, and it scares him that he could be losing another important part of himself. It scares you even more, knowing this could hurt Eddie. How badly it’s hurting you. But you know that you have to be strong in the moment, so you take his hand.

“But tonight you rest. Let’s go eat like you said and we will figure this out tomorrow. Okay?”

He nods and relaxes, lacing his fingers with yours. You put the paper back in the drawer and you both close the store, driving off to get dinner. It’s a quiet ride. You can’t help but think about Empire. How your own paradise, your own home, could be going away for good.

It lingers in your mind while you’re eating, when Eddie drops you off, when you shower, when you lie in bed. It takes you ages to fall asleep but you do, in hopes that tomorrow, you’ll be able to figure out some way to save the store.

[juyeoz]

APPLE CIDER — HAN TAESAN ‧₊˚✩彡

SYNOPSIS — Seven minutes in heaven with your enemy is more like seven minutes in hell.

PAIRING —  enemy!taesan x gn!reader ( enemies with tension )

CONTAINS —  taesan teases y/n, swearing, an almost kiss, and some suggestiveness as well as fluff.

WORDCOUNT — 772 words ( after trial and error with pftbz )

“Why are you so flustered?” Taesan questions, confused. The two of you are in a tight space, yes, but you are also with someone you swore to hate all your life.

He walks over to the door your supposed ‘friends’ locked you both behind and inspects the doorknob.

It is indeed locked, leaving both of you stuck inside until the timer is up.

You take a seat with your back resting against the wall of the closet and knees at your chest while Taesan does his own stuff — cussing at the door under his breath. 

“Shit, do they actually expect us to do something within these seven minutes?” He says with a sigh when walking back to his spot in front of you. You look down, avoiding any possible eye contact with him.

You feel your cheeks flush, hoping he can’t see the obvious change in your emotions under the dim lighting. 

“What?” Questions Taesan after noticing the way you are avoiding eye contact with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually flustered right now.” 

The boy chortles in disbelief as he takes a seat on the floor as well. He lowers his head to get a better look at your hidden face all while placing his hands on top of your knees.

“(Last Name), look at me.” He says and unfortunately, you follow through with his request. His gaze is overwhelming and only makes you feel smaller and even more flustered than you felt before. 

Taesan’s eyes search yours for any signs of emotions, however, there is nothing. Instead, you stare at him innocently. 

A sight he has never seen before. It is captivating, truly, and almost feels as if a switch flips off inside of him. It’s different from the look you usually gave him — a scowl with knitted brows, or even worse, a glare at anything he did. However, he would be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to such a sight at your lockers every morning. 

“If we kiss…” Taesan begins. “What are you going to do?” 

Your brows raise at his sudden question. The sudden question that he himself thought about, but is completely unaware of the fact it slipped out.

“I mean, that’s what they want, no?” He says, quick to make up an excuse. An excuse to shield away his true thoughts. 

An awkward silence falls over you both as you stare into each other’s eyes. Luckily because of the dim lighting, he isn’t able to clearly see your flustered expression and you aren’t able to see the way he nips at his bottom lip. 

Despite that, the cramped space isn’t any help to the both of you. You’re 100% sure he can hear your beating heart and he is 100% sure you can hear his. 

If you kiss Taesan, what would that mean for the two of you? You hate him and he hates you, however, who knew such a moment could make both of you rethink how you truly feel about one another.

Your gaze moves between his eyes and his lips and he watches with a glint from the terrible lightbulb evident in your eyes. Due to this, he bites back a smile before leaning and slightly tilting his head in the process. 

You, on the other hand, brace yourself for what is to come — but spoiler alert; it never came. Instead, a sudden weight is felt on your right shoulder. Taesan sighs and nuzzles his head further into the crevice between your neck and shoulder. 

Taesan whispers something, but it isn’t audible on your end, leaving you confused. Your head turns to look at him who continues to hide his own face in the same spot from before. 

There are many possible things Taesan could have said, starting with a simple yet irritating ‘I’m kidding’. The amount of embarrassment and hatred you’d feel after hearing those words is almost unbearable, but then again, it is expected from a boy that ‘hates’ you as much as you ‘hate’ him. 

“What did you say?” You ask, hoping it isn’t what you thought it to be. If it is, you wouldn’t waste any time getting up and asking to be let out immediately. And if that doesn’t work, you wouldn’t mind sitting alone in a corner on the opposite side of Taesan for the remaining minutes.

Seven minutes in heaven, more like seven minutes in hell. 

“(Last Name),” Taesan says, repeating himself as he raises his head to look at you. Once again, his eyes search yours as you fight back the urge to avoid his intense eye contact. 

“I like you.” 

Oh.

© JUYEOZ

BOYNEXTDOOR PERM TAGLIST — @ancnymcnzjy @miumura @ilovedallywinston @i03jae @borednia @s0shroe @leehanwish @sol3chu @en-dream @ribbeoms @itsactuallylina @macapunoz

[mychemicalaromanticism]

He gets a chance to guess when he meets a man with fiery hair and a white leather jacket.

Val Velocity is constantly tense, with crossed arms and an ever-present furrow to his brow. He is distrustful and bitter, but his crew doesn't seem too bothered about it. They talk and play around him with comfort that only comes from a strong bond. Cherri notices the empty space they still subconsciously leave in their circles, and a purple mohawk flickers in and out of his vision.

He doesn't make the connection immediately. He gets flashes that don't mean anything to him; a slightly younger Val with solid blonde hair, no jacket, and an empty expression on his face; a young child holding what could only be a Scarecrow's hand. Val was a guarded person, inside and out. Cherri was visiting the Diner when he first had the thought.

Kobra was laying in the pile of pillows and blankets that lived on the cafeteria floor, inspecting his arms with a bored expression. "Oh, yeah, Val totally- Val totally, uh, totally freaked it on Ghoul last week."

Cherri raised an eyebrow, leaning a little more on his hand from his seat at a booth. "Did he, now?"

"Yeah, he like- like, shoved him. Knocked him over. Knocked him over." His face didn't change.

"Did they deserve it?" Fun Ghoul was known to be annoying, known to enjoy being annoying. It was still surprising to hear that Val had succeeded in knocking them over, if that was true. He must have pushed them pretty hard.

"Yyyyyeah. I guess." Kobra rolls onto his side, facing Cherri. He stretches his arms over his head lazily, making his face squish against a pillow. "Ghoul was all up- all in his space, in his space with- with his arms around him 'n shit. Guess it freaked him out," comes his mumbled reply. He smirks. “Party punched- punched him in the face, though.”

Cherri smothers his first thought, his brain's desperate attempt to find and connect with people like him. No one likes being grabbed. Val's especially hot-headed. He wills himself to stop thinking about the way Val distances himself, the way he clings to his jacket like it's his only defense against the world, the way he apparently reacts violently to touch, to being restrained.

"You good?" Kobra asks. Cherri snaps back to attention, focusing on Kobra's repeated question. He gives a weak "Yeah" and a thumbs up. An echo appears standing just behind Kobra, a kid with short brown hair and glasses wearing a plain red long sleeve shirt and jeans. The most generic, ordinary child Cherri could probably imagine, but his face is tensed in suppressed anxiety. He feels a pang of regret for whatever memory he's triggered for Kobra and tries to look more relaxed. The echo disappears, and Kobra starts talking about his and Ghoul's latest adventures in rewiring C.A.T.

None of the Four seemed too concerned with the altercation. It happened, it ended, and people moved on. Even Party, who was the most upset with Val, had dropped the subject. And then the next time he sees them, Ghoul tells him about Val’s apology and that Vinyl likes to cook. Cherri can’t see anything on Val. His crewmates flicker with memories and apparitions around him and his form is unwavering, stubbornly locked down.

Cherri’s sitting in the Diner again. The Girl is on the floor next to the booth he’s in, playing a card game with Jet and Vamos. Party and Kobra are talking over each other with Vaya while Ghoul sits off to the side interjecting every so often.

Val is sitting where he always does, on the barstool against the wall and closest to the door. He’s accompanied by Vinyl this time, talking to him quietly.

The Girl leans back, pressing her head into Cherri’s thigh. “Hey. It’s not cheating to hide how many cards I have, is it?”

“It totally fucking is!” Jet exclaims.

“But we’re supposed to hide them in the first place!”

“We still need to know how many you have!”

Cherri puts a hand on The Girl’s head and ruffles her hair absent-mindedly. “What are you even playing?”

“Uno,” The Girl says, leaning into Cherri’s touch.

Jet throws his arms up, exasperated. “The game where card count matters, it’s called Uno, for fuck’s sake!” Vamos snickers as he stops to catch his breath.

A foreboding feeling fizzles along Cherri’s skin, and he looks up. Val is glaring daggers at him. He startles and leans behind Vinyl when Cherri catches him.

“I think you’re cheating, Girlie,” Cherri concedes, taking his hand off of The Girl’s head and trying to shake off the sick feeling that’s come over him. The three players seem satisfied with his answer, The Girl muttering under her breath but still pulling her cards from under her thigh, and the game continues. Anyone paying attention to the discussion goes back to their activities, and Cherri stares forward at the space behind Val.

There’s an echo, a Val slightly shorter but so much younger than the one sitting at the bar. His hair is solid blonde and the same length, but shaggy in an unintentional way that makes him look more disheveled than wild-hearted. He’s missing his leather jacket, a plain blue t-shirt in its place, and jeans that probably came with him from the City.

His eyes are red-rimmed with fresh exhaustion and he has small, rounded, dark red and purple marks along his neck.

The impressions, the echoes, whatever Cherri wants to call the visions he receives when looking at people, he learns to decipher and interpret them. He can tell if someone carries the grief of a long-dead family member, he can tell when someone has experienced a significant feeling of being out of control. He can tell when someone is haunted by their past, and he can make a good guess as to what's haunting them. It comes to him in gut feelings, in the shifts in the air when people get lost in thought. It comes to him in images- ghostly glimpses into the past that cling and drag behind a person.

He tries not to stare when they appear. They aren't ghosts, not in the traditional sense, but accidentally making eye contact with them when they aren't even aware of their existence is unsettling to say the least. Most of the time they just stand there, stuck on loop in whatever moment they manifested from. He's seen too many battered children to ever sleep well again.

They're not all bad, of course. He'll see a child holding a toy that must have been important to them. Or someone with a fresh haircut and dye, dressed extravagantly with a gleam in their eyes. He's even seen a second figure accompanying some echoes- a family member, a friend, a teacher, he presumes. Someone important enough to appear alongside their memory.

He wonders, sometimes, what his own echoes look like.

[slushyxcx]

Marlboro Reds [2]

Summary: Hamzah starts to act on his emotions

Chapter 2

All this kissing has made you bold. 

It’s like some dam has broken, now that you have permission to touch Hamzah. 

You pass him in the hallway and brush your fingertips along Hamzah’s lower back like it’s nothing, like he won’t be feeling the ghost of your touch for hours. You all go out to eat dinner together at least once a week, and you really act like it's pure chance that you’re seated next to Hamzah, shifting so your knee presses against his. On the field after pickleball, you’re spread out in the grass like a snow angel, Hamzah leaning against the fence above you, and you reach up to curl your fingers around his ankle, pressing your palm against the delicate tendons. 

There’s a look in your eyes that can only be described as longing. And it scares the shit out of him. 

You’re really good at hiding it. Hamzah probably wouldn’t be able to tell at all, if he wasn’t paying such close attention to you himself. 

“Hamzah,” you say softly, in that way you make it sound like you’re incredibly happy just to see Hamzah, which is stupid as fuck and can’t be true. But that’s how you make it sound, anyway. 

“Hey,” he says, super casually, and then throws his arm around your shoulders in an awkward one-armed half hug. You quickly rotate and successfully pivot his sad attempt into a full hug, a brief one, just long enough for everything to go silent as Hamzah feels himself surrounded by warmth for a moment, taking a greedy inhale of your perfume. Then you pull back and go back to rummaging around in the kitchen, like everything is totally normal, except you’ve got a shit eating grin on your face that is not being well hidden by the cupboard. 

“Be cool,” he chides, once again using your last name.

“I’m cool, I’m cool.” You dispute your own statement by following it with a giddy sort of giggle that makes Hamzah’s face heat up. 

Luckily, Hamzah is saved from saying something incredibly stupid like you’re so cute by the arrival of Mandy, who takes one look at Hamzah’s face and spins to raise her eyebrows at you. 

“Babe, we’ve talked about this,” Mandy lectures, faux-disappointed. “You can’t flirt with Hamzah before 12pm. It makes him all jittery and I’ve got to deal with him for today. I mean look at him, he’s all red now!” 

“Sorry Mandy,” You give her an extremely fake apologetic look, hands tucked behind your back as you rock on your heels. “I can flirt with you too, if you’d like?”

“Excuse you?! She is mine, my wife!” Martin calls out from behind as he walks by and circles his arms around Mandy’s waist, tugging her out the front door without stopping. Mandy reaches out and snags Hamzah by his jacket pocket, so he just gives you a helpless sort of wave as he’s dragged along outside. You blow him a kiss and then wait expectantly until Hamzah rolls his eyes and reaches out to catch the kiss in the air and put it in his pocket. Embarrassing as hell, but worth it to see your pleased little toothy smirk.

Now that he has your touch, he doesn't want to lose it. He’s starting to crave your goodbye hugs, starting to wait eagerly for the chance to feel the brush of your fingertips in the hallway. And it makes him greedy, makes him feel things he shouldn’t feel. Things he never normally feels. Things like- 

Like jealousy.

He first notices it that afternoon when he, Mandy and Martin come back from their grocery shopping for tonight’s video: baking cookies for the holidays.

But of course it ends up becoming a competition. 

The kitchen is a fucking mess. Flour dusts the counters, the floor, even the cabinets. Stray clumps of dough here and there, some of it stuck to the edges of the counter where they absentmindedly scraped it off the spatula. Okay, he’ll be honest, they just used their hands. 

A few of the cookies are lopsided, one side being over-baked and the other still doughy and undercooked. The cinnamon-sugar coating didn’t stick well on most of them, leaving patches where the cookies are bland and pale, while others are overloaded with cinnamon, making them taste more like dry spice than the soft, sweet bite of a snickerdoodle. The texture is all wrong—some are crunchy in spots, soft in others, and far too greasy, the butter not properly incorporated. In the middle of the mess, there’s one cookie that's basically just an unappetising mound of goo, its shape completely distorted by an overly eager hand that couldn’t stop squeezing it too tightly before baking.

“Oh come on! There’s no way, no way, that Martin’s is better than mine,” Hamzah runs hands through his hair, the flour smearing all over his locks. “You only say that ‘cause you guys do things to each other at night.”

Mandy pointedly ignores that comment as she chugs a glass of water to get the rancid taste out of her mouth. She could taste each individual ingredient separately as if they didn’t even bother to mix everything together.

“Okay, well, let’s bring them out! See what they think.”

The sink is a mountain of dirty dishes—a bowl crusted with sticky dough, measuring spoons caked in cinnamon, a spatula completely coated with dough that’s hardened into a thick, sticky layer. The smell of burnt butter lingers.

“Um, look, I know it’s my turn to wash the dishes but, I’m not washing all that.”

Mandy walks over to you and firmly holds your hands, “Hamzah thinks I’m being biased so now you’re the judge.” 

She tugs you towards the table. “No, Mandy,” you plead desperately as she drags and maneuvers you so you’re only just in view of the camera, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’ll do the dishes, I swear! I’ll do anything!” 

“Aw that’s really hurtful,” Martin pouts. “We worked really hard on these.” He pushes the plate of cookies towards you. 

“Ah! Not so fast,” Hamzah interjects, spinning the plate so his side of cookies faces towards you. “You’re starting with mine. I don’t want you comparing this masterpiece to his…attempt.”

Hamzah watches you pick up the first cookie, which, frankly, looks a little better than Martin’s, and take a tentative bite. He figures the texture is at least somewhat consistent. They’re greasy, a little too crunchy on the outside, but inside, they’re edible at least. The cinnamon isn’t as wildly scattered, though a few cookies are definitely overloaded with sugar, giving them a sickly sweet aftertaste.

You catch his eye and he hopes that you can’t see the raw vulnerability behind his attempt to act cool, to act like you picking him doesn’t matter to him, when it clearly does. His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he waits. 

“They’re… not bad.” You say finally, nodding as you chew. Hamzah’s shoulders relax ever so slightly, his fingers twitching ever so slightly.

“Ha! They said not bad! See? See- OW!” Martin’s obnoxious gloating is abruptly ended by a swift slap to the back of the head.

Next, you reach for Martin’s batch, a lopsided, cinnamon-sugar-coated mess. It looks like something that didn’t make it past the “dough” phase. The edges are burnt, while the middle remains doughy, an inescapable combination of undercooked and overdone. You bite into it, and God help you. The dough is clumpy and sticks to your teeth. The cinnamon coating is an afterthought, uneven and mostly concentrated in one corner. Your eyes water a little from the dryness.

You manage a forced smile. “Hm. Well, Martin, your… your cookies are definitely unique.” you say, trying to keep the edge of your voice light and playful.

“Okay,” you say, dragging the word out, just enough to let the suspense build. You glance at Hamzah, and he knows that you know how badly he is waiting for your approval.  “I think—” You tilt your head, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you now, “—I think Martin’s cookies are definitely better.”

No way.

Now look he’s not the best chef in the world but his cookies were marginally better than Martin’s. And he knows that you know that because Hamzah catches the briefest flicker of a smile across your face before you quickly disguise it as a cough, shifting your gaze to Martin’s loud celebration.

Hamzah clears his throat. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, his tone more hushed than before, “I guess you’d say that.” The words come out like an accusation, but the look in his eyes says something entirely different. It’s a vulnerability he can’t hide, and he knows you love that you’ve managed to push him this far. 

The second time it happens, they’re all hanging out and pregaming for tonight’s party.

Chase shoots him a look when he sits down on the couch. “Oh, he finally decides to grace us with his presence.” 

Hamzah scowls his way. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Chase shrugs in a not at all casual way, “just you’ve been so busy with your girlfriend lately…” 

Hamzah forgets to pretend he doesn’t know who he’s referring to. “She’s not my girlfriend, asshole.” 

“Clearly, ‘cause Claire is all over her.” 

“What-” Hamzah spins around to see you sitting with Claire and her friends today and goddamn- Claire is practically on top of you, she’s sitting so close, your sides pressed together as you both talk. It makes something hot flare in Hamzah’s mind, the slimy slither of jealousy curling down his spine. 

When he turns back around, the boys chorus an “oooh” and jostle each other like Hamzah has revealed something. 

“He’s jealous!” Martin chimes. 

“I am not,” Hamzah snarls back, looking down to hide the red flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “They can do whatever they want.” 

“Sureee,” Chase jeers and they’re just fucking around, but Hamzah suddenly can’t take it, can’t deal with this right now. 

“Fuck you guys,” Hamzah spits, and stands up to stalk out of the room, ignoring their calls of surprise behind him. 

The thing is that it shouldn’t matter. You and Claire have started getting close ever since you arrived here. Hamzah has never given a fuck before now. It’s just-

It just feels different now.

Like there’s been… something building between Hamzah and you, these last few weeks, something smoldering and hot. And all of the sudden, he feels unsteady, like maybe he’s been imagining it. Like maybe you don't feel it too. 

Which is stupid, because you haven't done anything different, but now Hamzah can’t stop thinking about it. About every time you give a casual hug to someone, or bunch into Mandy’s backseat with the others, pressed together, or walk hand-in-hand with Claire when you’re both out window shopping. 

He can’t stop thinking about it. He spends all day thinking about it. So when you amble over outside to smoke, Hamzah feels all his emotions rise up. 

“Hey,” you say, easy as anything, because you don't know Hamzah’s spent the last four hours in his head. 

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything, don’t say anything-

“Shouldn’t you be with Claire?” Hamzah half snarls before he can stop himself, and fuck. 

Your eyebrows shoot up at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Hamzah stubs out his cigarette as fast as he can and backpedals. “Forget it. I’ll see you later. Or won’t. Whatever.” 

“Hamzah, wait-” 

He’s so stupid. He didn’t need to say shit, and now he’s shuffling out of the house before you can say anything else, before Hamzah can say anything else that might expose that he’s jealous. 

Him, Hamzah. Jealous. 

And for what? Just because he got a few hugs and kisses, now he doesn’t want you kissing anyone else? It’s absurd. Completely absurd.

And yet, Hamzah can’t help it. Some sick, selfish part of him wants you all to himself. 

And there’s a party tonight, a party Hamzah has no interest in going to, except- 

Well, except what if you are there and someone starts chatting you up?

That’s why he ends up crowded in with a bunch of other people at someone’s house that night, shitty cocktail in hand. 

He’s just building up a comfortable buzz when his eye catches on something in the corner of his vision. Hamzah turns automatically and-

What the fuck?

Just across the room, you and some guy he’s never seen before, looking cosy as hell on one corner of the couch, the guy leaning forward way more than necessary to hear you over the noise of the party. 

Hamzah barely feels the trickle of alcohol down his hands as he clutches his plastic cup so hard it cracks, liquor dribbling to the floor. 

He can’t drag his eyes away. 

You’re in your untouchable mood right now, Hamzah can tell. Mostly because you are dressed in tight black trousers and an even tighter red satin shirt, and your slender fingers are dripping with thin gold rings. 

You are nodding along with whatever the other guy is saying, although even from here, Hamzah can tell you’re not really listening, your eyes distant. Which should be a comfort, because you are obviously not interested in this guy, you are clearly just being polite, but where exactly does this other guy get off, sitting so close to you like that? Smiling at you like he fucking knows you at all, obviously angling himself to try to catch your eye? What the fuck? How fucking dare he? 

Hamzah is frozen in place, stupefied by the audacity. The one consoling factor Hamzah has is that they’re not touching- until the guy leans even closer, his knees bumping into yours, and he puts his fucking hand on your arm. Hamzah feels the fury in his blood heat up by a thousand percent as he watches the guy drag his fingertips along your wrist. 

And then.. 

Your gaze flickers away from that guy and goes directly across the room. Your eyes meet Hamzah’s glare. You raise one eyebrow, the question in your expression clear as day. Not a challenge, not exactly. Just a simple question.

And? What are you going to do about it? 

Hamzah clenches his jaw so hard he can hear his teeth grind. 

“Hold this.” Hamzah shoves his broken cup into the hands of whoever the fuck he was pretending to talk to and stalks across the room, everyone getting the fuck out of the way of the familiar sight of Hamzah on the warpath. When he gets close, both you and the other guy look up, the guy’s expression confused as he pulls his hand back, and you- you are smirking, your teeth bared, your little fang poking out, mocking Hamzah. 

Fuck it.  

Sometimes Hamzah is too far deep in his own head, stuck in a constant feedback loop of second guessing. 

But now Hamzah’s not thinking at all. He’s acting purely on instinct. 

Which is why when Hamzah reaches the couch he, without pausing, pulls your wrist, slinging one arm around your waist for balance, and drops you into his lap.

“Hey.” His hands go to your hips, steadying you, tugging you back so you’re more securely seated, back flush against his front.

You do not hesitate. You wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. Hamzah’s knees knock the intruder out of the way and maybe the other guy says something, maybe he doesn’t, Hamzah wouldn’t know because his attention is 100% focused on you. 

“Hey,” you hum, satisfied, as you tip your head back onto his shoulder so you can make eye contact. 

“You doing alright?” Hamzah’s voice comes out raspier than he means to, because internally every inch of him is screaming at the amount of physical contact that is occurring right now. 

“I am now that you're here,” you say easily, your smile widening at Hamzah’s automatic eye roll and scoff. 

“Does that line usually work?” 

“Mm, I don't usually need a line.” 

And oh yeah, that’s why Hamzah came over here in the first place. 

He looks around to see that your conversation partner has disappeared, storming off in a huff while you and Hamzah were murmuring to each other. His absence means there’s room on the couch next to him now, means that you can get off his fucking lap, but Hamzah makes no move to relinquish his grip on your waist, so you lets yourself lean further back into Hamzah instead, tucking your face against his neck. 

“Hey,” Hamzah repeats, his voice rough, letting his eyes close as he subtly inhales the comforting smell of you. 

Hamzah feels your chuckle rumble through him. 

“Hamzah, are you drunk?”

“Maybe a little,” Hamzah admits, his free hand dropping down to toy with your fingers in your own lap. He’s on fire, every inch of him burning where you touch, and yet he can't get enough, needs more, always more. He hasn't even had that much to drink, not really, but this much physical contact with you is short-circuiting his brain, making it hard to think beyond the yes perfect more safe exactly warm everything yes spiral his mind keeps repeating. 

“You know everyone can see us?”

Hamzah starts to move you off of him immediately, taking your comment as a complaint, but you tighten your grip on his hair, making Hamzah whimper and go still. 

“I don't mind,” you say firmly. “I just want to make sure you don't mind.” 

And maybe the soothing of your touch has made him too comfortable, because Hamzah doesn't stop himself from saying, “Maybe I want them to see.”

He still has his face pressed against your throat, so he can’t see your reaction to his words, but he can feel the quick inhale, the way you move to intertwine your connected hands. That kind of victory is extra sweet, to pull uncontrolled reactions from you, who is normally so careful and contained. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe and there’s something hypnotically soothing about it. Hamzah has the sudden thought that he could stay like this forever. 

It’s hard to even remember why he was so jealous, when the difference is obvious, when you look at him in a way you look at no one else. When you come alive when Hamzah’s close. 

Still, he needs to know-

“Who the fuck was that, by the way?” 

“Hmm?”

“That guy you were talking to.” 

“Oh, I have no idea.”

Hamzah’s jaw drops, pulling his head back again to stare at you incredulously as the pieces fall into place. “Were you flirting with some random guy just to lure me over here?” 

Your answering smile is unrepentant. “Why would that lure you over here?” You reach up and start to twirl a lock of hair around one finger, the picture of innocence. “Do you… not want me to flirt with other people?”

The phrasing of this sentence implies that Hamzah is a person with whom you are flirting with, a thought that makes whatever synapses were still firing in Hamzah’s poor, pathetic brain snap and go silent. Your smirk is wolfish as you wait for Hamzah to reply.

“You’re a menace.” Hamzah manages, avoiding the question. 

“You like it.” 

“I never said that.” 

“So you don't care if I flirt with other people then.”

“I never said that either.” 

You hum, your breath ghosting along Hamzah’s skin. “I’m getting some mixed messages here.” 

Hamzah huffs, his hands still holding your free hand, toying with your rings. “You know how I feel.” He pauses and licks his lips. “... You do know how I feel, right?” 

“Hmm… maybe,” you say, grinning and knocking your head lightly against Hamzah’s own when he won’t look up at you.  

Hamzah grumbles out your last name, pretending to be displeased at this response, although he’s smiling too. 

“Yes, baby?” You press a smile against Hamzah’s hair, as if that will hide it. And shit, fuck, fucking hell, you are too good at this game and Hamzah wasn’t ready, wasn't prepared to hear this term of endearment fall from your lips, so he’s not able to muffle the high pitched noise he makes in response. 

Because you’re still in his fucking lap , Hamzah can feel you laughing, your body vibrating. 

“Fuck you,” Hamzah mutters, no heat behind his words. “Asshole.” 

“That's not what the other guys say,” you say liltingly, your tone light and teasing. 

Maybe he has had more to drink than he thought, because Hamzah doesn't hesitate.

“Well, you’re not in their lap, are you?”

Hamzah can feel the stretch of your smile against the side of his head.

“I’m sorry for saying Martin’s cookies were better than yours,” you pout at him, dipping your head to the side as you run your fingernails through his scalp. 

Hamzah hums and closes his eyes, leaning into your touch. “It’s okay, I know mine were better anyway.”

“Barely,” you scoff, slowly sinking your fingers further into his hair and applying a light, but firm, pressure to his scalp, your breath ghosting over his lips.

“Oh, c’mon, you know-” 

You take advantage of his open mouth and kiss him, playing roughly with his tongue. Hamzah’s lips chase after you when you pull away. You sit up, grinning at his eagerness, as you place one hand on top of his chest.

“You’re cute,” you murmur, slow and sweet as syrup, and maybe Hamzah would feel more embarrassed if he couldn't tell that you are just as flustered as he is. Despite your steady tone, you can’t hide the way your pupils are blown wide, the way you shiver every time Hamzah shifts against you, your possessive grip on Hamzah’s hair. 

“Am not.” 

“Agree to disagree?”

“Fuck no.” 

[apomaro-mellow]

Hawkins Confidential 6

Part 5

Dustin settled back into his bedroom like he never left, like he hadn’t just spent months in a hospital bed. It made Steve glad that he’d been scenting his things everyday in anticipation for his pup’s return. He walked in, seeing that Dustin was already in the process of building the dragon that Eddie had gotten for him. 

“Is dad coming by today? I wanna make this with him”, Dustin said.

And that word made Steve’s heart clench while making his stomach drop too. He came inside, closing the door behind him and getting on the floor with Dustin. He cleared his throat as he composed his thoughts.

“Look, Dusty, I know he’s really your dad. And everyone else in this house knows. But you can’t call him that.”

Dustin frowned. “Why not? He is, isn’t he?”

“He is”, Steve assured him. “But things aren’t that easy. If people know the truth, well, they’ll talk. And think of how it would make your-” Steve couldn’t call Tommy his father. Not anymore. “Of how it would make Tommy feel.”

“He’s a jerk. To you and to me.”

Steve couldn’t hold back the small smile he got from that. “Even so, this is a secret we’ve all been keeping. Even Eddie. And we need you to keep the secret too.”

Dustin huffed, but nodded. “Okay. So I just call him Mr. Eddie? That’s weird.”

“I know.” Steve patted the top of Dustin’s head. This whole thing was weird. If Steve was being honest, he never thought he’d see Eddie again. He thought that even if he ever told Dustin the truth, it would have been when he was older, an adult, and able to make his own decisions about whether or not he wanted to reach out to his true sire. But of course, life had to throw another wrench in the works.

Now he had to face the things he’d been hiding from for years. Steve wanted to talk to Eddie about them, but it was hard to get a moment alone. And also, he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be alone with the alpha. With that conversation done though, Steve left Dustin to it and went back to his own bedroom where Tommy was rushing to get ready. He was spending more and more late nights at the office, almost everyday at this point.

Steve knew it was probably because of Eddie. Eddie had already returned to where he was living now, he couldn’t stay at a motel forever. But he promised he’d be waiting on bells and whistles for that first dinner and Dustin’s weekend trips. It amazed Steve how quickly Eddie took to being a dad. But he realized he shouldn’t be surprised. Back then…Eddie had been happy, excited even.

Steve paced back and forth in the school bathroom. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening. He heard the bell ring and quickly stuffed the pregnancy test into his bag, tossing the box into the trash and rushing out before anyone else could come in. It was midday but when Eddie came by his locker, suggesting they skip, Steve agreed easily.

Eddie put his arm around Steve’s shoulders as they walked out of the school and towards his van.

“Something up angel?”, he asked once they were inside.

Steve thought about the test, sitting in his book bag like a hundred pound weight. He held it tight to his chest. “No, nothing. Hey um, let’s hang at the mall, okay?”

“Yeah, okay”, Eddie said, taking them there.

Steve wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do or how exactly he was going to tell Eddie, but at least going there would keep him from having to refuse beer and weed for now.

Steve was knocked out of his thoughts by Tommy slamming the door as he went out. Steve sighed as he saw how the room was left in disarray from his hurrying. Maybe he should have been nice and actually attempted to wake him up. He made the bed and then picked up Tommy’s clothes from last night. He was about to drop them into the hamper when he caught a whiff of something. Something sweet.

He brought the clothes up to his nose. He mostly smelled Tommy’s teakwood scent. But there was something else there. Something familiar that he just couldn’t put his finger on. He was about to dismiss it when he saw it. There on Tommy’s collar. Just the slightest smudge of lipstick. Steve’s blood ran cold and he tossed the clothes into the hamper before he could think more about it.

He went into the kitchen, searching for a drink when the phone rang. He didn’t feel up to talking, but picked it up anyway.

“Hey sweet-cheeks.”

“Eddie? How did you know it was me?”

“I didn’t. Just rolled the dice with that one.”

“Please remember that your son could also be the one to pick up.”

“Ah, shit, well, good thing it didn’t happen this time”, Eddie laughed nervously. “Anyway, you free today? Dustin too? I want you both to meet me by those apartments in Forest Hills.”

Steve wasn’t able to get anything out of him besides that it was supposed to be a surprise. He called out to Dustin, telling him to get ready to head out. He could think about the lipstick on Tommy’s shirt later.

------------------------

There was a sort of unspoken hierarchy among them all. Whoever had the most money was usually at top and that was the Harringtons. But reputation also played a role. So even though the Carvers weren’t quite as wealthy as the Harringtons, clean and pure and elegant Chrissy was more or less on the same level as Steve. 

The moment Steve was available, Tommy snatched him up, raising himself from the pitiful Hagan name and basically leaving Carol behind. She had no choice but to marry Andy just to stay relevant. Essentially Jason’s underling, that put Carol under Chrissy. It burned Carol inside. But soon enough she would be the most influential of their little town. In the meantime, she could entertain herself by stirring the pot just a bit.

So when she went to the club and saw Chrissy walking around with mousy Jonathan Wheeler, well it was like dangling a toy in front of a cat.

“Well, well and my, my. Now Chrissy, I could have sworn that the club was members only”, Carol said, smiling. As predicted, Jonathan closed in on himself, not meeting her eyes.

“As a matter of fact, Jonathan and Nancy are considering becoming members. I was just giving him a tour”, Chrissy explained, putting a reassuring hand onto his arm.

“Did you happen to tell him that a new member must be sponsored by two families?”

“Yes. And I am one of those sponsors.”

“And what about the other one?”, Carol pressed. After all, what was the point in being exclusive if you couldn’t rub it in the face of your lessers?

“Oh? Are you volunteering?”, Chrissy asked, then she continued before Carol could even respond. “That’s so nice of you, but I was thinking of suggesting the Harringtons. Dustin will be back in school soon, and that means Steve and Tommy will be around more. It could be just like high school.”

“Just like high school?”, Jonathan snorted, speaking up for the first time.

“Better than high school”, Chrissy amended. “Anyway, it was nice talking with you Carol but we’ve got to keep this tour moving.” With that, she and Jonathan moved around her but not before Carol got the final word.

“Be sure to show him the daycare. It’s the best place in Hawkins to leave your pup~”

She didn’t wait to see either of their reactions. She knew, based on the hospital gossip she had received, that it would have struck a chord with Jonathan. And that was enough. Over her dead body would Nancy Wheeler and her mutt of an omega join this country club.

-----------------

Steve and Dustin got to the apartment complex, which Eddie was standing outside of. He held his arms out wide.

“Ta-daaaa~”, he sang.

“Tada what?”, Steve asked.

“You didn’t think I was gonna make either of us drive that long way back to my place for Dustin’s visits, did ya?”

“Wait…did you….?”, Steve trailed off, catching on.

Eddie took them up and led the two of them to his new apartment, right in the middle of town. It was pretty modest, especially compared to the literal mansion they lived in, but to Dustin’s child eyes, all he saw was the place his real dad lived. He even freaked out appropriately when Eddie showed what would be his room. There was already a fully dressed bed and a desk with a DnD manual on top. While Dustin explored his space, Steve pulled Eddie to the side.

“Just how much did all this set you back?”, he whispered.

“Don’t worry about it, precious”, Eddie whispered.

Steve sighed. “You can’t keep calling me things like that. And I can’t let you spend all this money.”

“I can’t just call you ‘Steve’ when my heart knows you by so many other names. And it’s my money to spend. I meant what I said back then. I don’t want a single dime that belonged to your father.”

Steve suddenly realized how close they were, how his senses were suddenly filled with Eddie’s scent, how much he longed for him, and how it would be the perfect poetic justice if he acted on his feelings now when Tommy was almost undoubtedly cheating on him.

“Hey, Mr. Eddie!”

Eddie raised a brow at Steve for that. “‘Mr’?”

“Well he can’t call you ‘dad’ in front of everyone”, Steve said as Dustin came up to them. “People will gossip.”

“What about Uncle Eddie?”, their son suggested.

“Oh that gossip’s just gonna be worse for you and me”, Eddie grinned at Steve.

Steve ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, how about this. When it’s private, you can call him dad. But out in public, Mr. Eddie.”

“That works for me”, Eddie said, crossing his arms.

Dustin mirrored him, crossing his arms too. “That also works for me.”

“Alright kiddo, tell me about everything you haven’t already told me while I fix you up a Munson special.”

“What’s Munson special?”, Dustin asked as he was corralled into the kitchen.

“That’s code for ‘make something out of whatever’s in the kitchen. You love it”, Steve said as he watched Eddie get to work.

“You’re gonna love tonight’s special, sweetheart”, Eddie said, breaking out a pan and what looked like a dish of leftover lasagna from the fridge. There was also bread and a can of sardines.

“Eddie…I’ve got something to tell you”, Steve said as his boyfriend fixed up dinner. He was thinking of escape routes. He’d driven here, so he could drive himself back. Worst case scenario, the trailer park was only about six miles from his house. He could walk that. 

“What’s up?”, Eddie asked, eyes focused on his cooking. 

“I should’ve told you sooner. I’ve known for days, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you, how’d you react”, Steve said, wringing his hands together.

Eddie turned the burner off and gave Steve his full attention then. “Tell me what?”

Steve took a deep breath, knowing this would change things forever. “I’m pregnant.”

There was a beat before Eddie threw his hands up in the air, tossing the (thankfully still closed) can of sardines in the air and picking Steve up to swing him around. “Baby! This is great! Holy hell we’re gonna be parents!” He set Steve on his feet then. “Holy shit, I’m gonna be a dad.”

Steve nodded, eyes tearing up. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

“This calls for something better than a Munson special. Hold on”, Eddie started rummaging through kitchen drawers. “I’ve got a coupon for Tonio’s somewhere. A coupon to Un Petit Bite too.”

“Eddie…”

“I know, stupid name, and somehow I’m the one that’s failing French in this town?”

“No, Eddie”, Steve grabbed his hand, making him pause his search and kissed him, his hands coming up to cradle his boyfriend’s face. “We don’t need to go anywhere. I think a family recipe like the Munson special is perfect for a night like tonight.”

Eddie smiled before bringing Steve in for another kiss. “Can’t wait.”

“For what?”, Steve giggled.

“For everything. Seeing you get big and round”, he tickled Steve’s sides. “To meet this pup, to be a dad. I’m gonna be a good one, Stevie, I promise.”

“I know you will.”

Part 7 coming soon

[bbywhitefox123]

description: the tape Rafe and Mia filmed backfires, but Mia still has hope that Mason might want to sleep with her. So Rafe ends up bringing Mia to a party that Mason is supposed to attend.

warnings: semi-public sex, car sex, p in v

Mia leaked the video the second she got home, and only two hours later it went viral. Not for the right reasons, though. It was hard for a blowjob tape to go viral for the right reasons, anyway. However, Mia had hoped that at least Mason would now think of her as more than a pillow princess. She didn't know what Mason thought, however, she was very aware of everyone's thoughts in Outer Banks.

They thought that Mia’s daddy wasn't giving her enough money, so she began to sell her holes.

“What were you thinking?” Sarah exclaimed the moment she arrived at Mia’s house.

Mia’s eyes traveled from her bathroom door to Sarah’s concerned face. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since the video was uploaded, and Sarah was already panicking.

“Thinking…” Mia repeated, trying to remember what thoughts might have crossed her mind while she had Rafe’s fat cock in her throat. Frankly, it was quite hard to think while being deep-throated. “I thought that it might be thrilling, no?”

Sarah’s eyes widened at the calmness of her best friend's voice. “No!” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“Oh,” Mia said, looking down at her lap. She was sitting on her bed in her tinnie-tiny pj shorts.

Sarah’s brows furrowed at her friend’s child-like actions - except for the fact that children didn't film adult videos and leak them.

But before she could say anything else, her phone buzzed. Mia couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over her. Sarah had been relentless with her lectures on keeping private moments… well, private. And after that video leak, Mia had heard enough. No one knew Rafe was the one behind the camera, and she planned to keep it that way.

“I have to go, M’s. Topper got in a fight,” Sarah sighed, grabbing her things. “But don’t think we’re done here.”

Mia plastered on a polite smile, nodding as Sarah left, the sound of the door clicking shut signaling her true relief. The moment Sarah was gone, Mia let herself fall back onto her bed, stretching out with a deep breath. “Finally,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

A creak from her bathroom door pulled her attention, and she looked up, watching as Rafe strolled out with that smirk of his, waving his phone lazily in the air.

She raised a brow, eyeing him with a half-smile. “What’s that? You filming yourself jerking off to my laundry?” she teased, crossing her arms as she settled into the mattress.

Rafe scoffed, tossing his phone onto the bed beside her. “Got my annoying sister off your ass. You’re welcome.”

Mia rolled onto her stomach, glancing at the texts he’d sent to Topper. She realized there was no actual fight — just Rafe, manipulating the situation to his advantage. She felt his gaze lingering, and a sly grin crept onto her face as she caught him in the act. The position she was in gave Rafe the perfect view of her heart-shaped ass.

“Oh, enjoying the view, are we?” she teased, arching her back just slightly, making it clear she knew exactly what he was looking at. Rafe felt his dick twitch at the sight of her ass peeking out of the short cotton material.

Rafe tilted his head, not even bothering to hide his stare. “Peach suits you,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing yet undeniably admiring.

Mia smirked, meeting his gaze with a defiant glint in her eyes. “Guess you can look,” she said, barely a whisper, “but don’t think you’ll get away with anything else.”

Rafe snorted, walking around the bed and letting his hand travel from her tight to the center of her lean back. He did exactly what she told him he couldn't. And in one swift motion, he undid her bra through the thin material of her tank top.

Mia’s mouth went dry as she looked up at Rafe, who was smirking devilishly down at her. His fingers moved to her jaw, caressing, and then he tugged on her lower lip.

“We’re friends, remember?” Mia found a little power in her voice and decided to use it.

Rafe smirked, pushing his thumb inside her wet, warm mouth, “The best of.”

Mia leaned in close, brushing her fingers along Rafe’s hand, her gaze steady and unwavering. Her lips quirked up in a teasing smile as she looked up at him, her eyes wide and unguarded. Rafe felt a rush of heat, his pulse picking up as he tried to keep his cool. She didn’t say a word, but the way she lingered, so close he could feel her warmth, said enough.

“You know,” she murmured softly, taking his finger out of her warm mouth and watching the saliva string between them. Her voice was laced with playful defiance, “I could keep you here all night if I wanted.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to give in, knowing he had somewhere to be. If only it wasn't for the damn party where he would get his next dose. But the thought of leaving was getting harder with each passing second. And so was his dick.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replied, his voice low, catching the glint of mischief in her eyes as she slowly pulled away, leaving him with only a taste of the tension hanging between them.

Mia wiped her mouth as she rolled back to the middle of the bed. “Where are you going, anyway?” she asked, sitting up.

It was a little after eleven p.m., and she was ready for some Netflix before she could fall asleep. Mia took her bra out and threw it on the edge of the bed before she pulled her laptop closer.

“Nate’s party,” Rafe answered quickly as if he wanted to get over with it.

Opposite to Rafe’s disdain, Mia’s eyes sparkled with excitement at his words. She looked over her shoulder. “Nate like Nate Richards? Mason’s friend? Is that the Nate you’re talking about?” Mia asked question after question, her chest rising with excitement while Rafe furrowed his brows at her.

“I guess—”

“Cool. I’m coming too,” Mia declared, getting up from her bed and quickly walking to her closet without waiting for Rafe to finish his sentence.

Rafe watched her with parted lips, his eyes glued to her jiggling ass. He would’ve much fathered have Mia cumming in her bedroom, instead of her coming to this party.

“Yeah, I’m not taking you,” Rafe said nonchalantly.

Mia stopped herself before she could take out a dress from her closet and turned on her heels to look at him. She pouted her glossy lips and gave him the biggest eyes she could. “Please, Rafey,” she begged.

Rafe gulped, the image of her sucking him on her knees playing in the back of her head. Fuck, he was getting hard all over again.

“I’ll do as you say. I just want to talk with Mason, nothing more— I’ll listen to you, and we’ll leave whenever you want… I’ll be good, I promise, Rafey,” Mia uttered on and on, but not a single word reached Rafe. He was too focused on watching her pretty nipples and the outline of her pussy that the shorts gave.

When Mia noticed where Rafe’s eyes were, she quickly took her tank top off her body without a second thought. Rafe watched with a watered mouth as her perky tits spilled out before he looked up at her face. The power she had on him was unbelievable.

“—You can even pick my outfit and all,” Mia finished her rant but by the look in Rafe’s eyes she knew he heard only the last bits of her words.

“Huh?” He furrowed his brows, fighting the need to look back at her bouncy tits.

Mia chuckled at him, biting her lip as she began to walk closer to him. Rafe’s hungry eyes were glued to her tits that bounced with each of her steps. He couldn't help but imagine how soft they would be in his palms and how she’d moan when he sucked on them. She gave him good material for his late-night jerking sessions.

Mia wrapped her hand around his arm, feeling his hard muscles. She had seen his body more times than any girl had, and she knew how strong he was. And that turned her on more than she cared to admit.

“C’mon,” she smiled at him, pulling him closer to her closet.

Rafe stood in front of the hung clothes and looked at her all confused. The Mia he knew hated when guys had opinions on her clothes and here she was, letting Rafe pick her outfit. He wasn't even sure she was serious until she stripped off her shorts. Rafe’s eyes widened as she took in the view. Mia, his best friend, stood in front of him with her tits out and her pink thong buried between her pussy lips.

“You’re wet,” Rafe pointed out before he could stop himself.

Mia looked down and chuckled. “I guess you’d have to pick a pair of panties, as well,” she said, folding her arms in front of her tits.

Rafe drew a sharp breath as he turned his attention back to her closet. He scratched the back of his head as he looked through her stuff. Outer Banks was one Hell of a hot place and Mia was known for having her ass out, so Rafe had to work with little less fabric than he had imagined.

“I like that dress,” Mia pointed out when Rafe pulled one of the many hangers. A short white dress was dangled down on the gold hanger.

Rafe smirked as he looked at it, “Didn’t I buy it?”

Mia nodded sweetly, the memory of his surprise gift causing her to bit her lip.

“Uhmm…” she hummed, folding her arms behind her as she stepped forward. “I love it when you buy me things.”

Rafe scoffed, trying to bite down his smirk. “Do you now?” he teased, his arm sneaking around her bare waist as he pulled her against his body.

Mia nodded, looking up at him. Her glossy lips twisted into a smirk, catching his gaze. She couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Mia had him wrapped around her pedicured finger. He was sooo whipped.

“So, Rafey. Why don’t you choose the dress Nate Richards would be taking off tonight?” she said, batting her long eyelashes at him.

Rafe snorted, biting back a remark that would’ve had her mood ruined. For a second, he thought whether he should tell her anyway - having her not go to that party was the best outcome. And he likes to gamble.

“How are you so fucking confident he’ll want you?” Rafe breathed out, furrowing his brows. He was so damn fascinated by her.

Mei cocked a brow. “You, boys are very simple. There’s nothing you wouldn't do for sex.”

Rafe tilted his head to the side. He did understand what she meant, but oh how much he loved to watch her lips move. Mei made her point and Rafe daydreamed about that glossy mouth of hers. The same mouth he had around his dick a few days ago. Even the thought of it made his dick hard.

“Just like you’re taking me to that party with the hopes of getting under me,” Mei gave another example, taking her hands off him.

Rafe leaned against the closet door. Biting his lip as Mei bent over to take the dress he had dropped. She had the best ass for doggy style or spanking. And Rafe was getting heated-up just thinking about it. It didn’t help that Mei used to date some of Rafe’s friends and he got to hear about the bedroom part from both sides.

“M’not a bottom,” Rafe muttured, his eyes glued to her tight body.

Mei only rolled her eyes at his statement before she put her dress on and turned around for Rafe to zip it. His cold hands melted against her hot skin as he dragged the zipper as slowly as he could. And when he was done, he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. Mei laughed at the gesture before she walked away to pick some shoes.

“I’m not carrying you, Peach,” Rafe tasked the moment she picked up a pair of high heels.

Mei groaned, turning to look at him. “Okay, when has that happened— You know what, I take it back,”

Rafe smirked at her. “Exactly. You’ve got the stamina of a baby deer in those things, and I’m not breaking my back dragging you around again.”

Mei rolled her eyes, slipping her feet into the heels anyway. “First of all, I’ve never asked you to carry me. Second, you’re just mad I get more attention than you when we’re out.”

Rafe laughed, pushing off the door to close the gap between them. “You’re delusional. Nobody’s looking at you when I’m in the room.”

Mei gave him a playful glare, her hands going to her hips. “Oh, really? Last time I checked, you were the one begging me to zip this dress so I could distract your enemies.”

“Enemies? Nah, sweetheart,” Rafe said, tilting his head as he let his eyes sweep down her body, slow and deliberate. “They’re just guys who want what I’ve got.”

Mei’s cheeks flushed, but she kept her composure, shooting him a smirk. “What you’ve got? Hate to break it to you, but this—” she gestured to herself— “isn’t yours.”

Rafe stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Sure about that?” His voice was low, teasing, with just enough of an edge to send a shiver up her spine.

She held his gaze, refusing to back down even as her pulse quickened. “Positive.”

Rafe’s smirk widened, but instead of pressing further, he backed away, his hands raised in mock surrender. “If you say so, Peach.”

Mei huffed out a laugh, brushing past him to grab her bag. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he called after her.

She didn’t respond, but the faint smile tugging at her lips was all the answer Rafe needed.

The party was already in full swing when they arrived. The bass from the music thrummed through the walls, and the smell of booze and smoke hung heavy in the air. Mei walked in first, her heels clicking confidently against the floor, her dress hugging her body in all the right places. Rafe trailed behind her, his jaw tight as his eyes swept the room, already annoyed by the way guys were looking at her.

Mei’s target wasn’t hard to find. Mason stood near the kitchen, a beer in one hand, his other slung lazily around some guy’s shoulders as he laughed at something. Mei’s lips curved into a sly smile, and Rafe immediately picked up on the shift in her demeanor.

“You’re not seriously thinking about him,” Rafe muttered as he leaned down to speak in her ear, his hand brushing against her lower back.

“Why not?” Mei replied with a coy glance over her shoulder. “He’s hot, and I’m bored.”

“Hot?” Rafe scoffed, straightening up. “You’ve got low standards if that’s your type.”

Mei rolled her eyes. “Just because I don’t want to bang you doesn’t mean my standards are low.”

“Cute,” Rafe drawled, crossing his arms. “But Mason? Come on, Mei, the guy’s dumber than a bag of rocks.”

“That’s okay. I’m not trying to have an intellectual conversation with him.” Her tone was sharp, but her grin was teasing. She gave Rafe a little wink before striding off toward Mason.

Rafe watched her go, his jaw clenching as she swayed her hips just enough to draw attention. He wanted to roll his eyes at how obvious she was being, but the truth was, it pissed him off more than he cared to admit.

By the time Mei reached Mason, Rafe had already decided he wasn’t going to let this happen. Not tonight. Not with him.

Mason grinned when Mei sidled up to him, her hand brushing his arm as she leaned in close. Rafe could see her laughing at whatever Mason was saying, her hand lingering on his chest. It made his stomach churn.

Without thinking, Rafe grabbed a drink off the counter and strolled over. “Hey, Mason,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder a little harder than necessary. “Didn’t think you’d show up tonight. Weren’t you saying something about skipping this one?”

Mason looked confused, glancing between Rafe and Mei. “Uh, no, I don’t think so—”

“Really? Could’ve sworn you said something about how boring these things get.” Rafe cut him off smoothly, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Mei narrowed her eyes at him, catching on immediately. “Rafe,” she said sweetly, her smile tight. “I’m sure Mason doesn’t need you putting words in his mouth.”

“Oh, I’m just making conversation,” Rafe said, shrugging innocently. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

But he didn’t leave, and his presence was enough to throw off whatever vibe Mei had been trying to create.

It happened again ten minutes later. Mei had managed to pull Mason onto the makeshift dance floor, her hands running up his chest as she pressed closer to him. Rafe leaned against the wall, watching with a dark expression before deciding he’d had enough.

He pushed off the wall and cut through the crowd, grabbing Mei’s wrist lightly but firmly. “Can I borrow her for a second?” he asked Mason, not bothering to wait for a response before pulling Mei away.

“What the hell, Rafe?” Mei hissed, yanking her arm back once they were out of earshot.

“You looked like you needed saving,” he said, his smirk infuriatingly smug.

“Saving?” Mei repeated, glaring at him. “From what? Having a good time?”

“From making a mistake,” Rafe shot back, his voice low but heated. “You don’t want Mason. Trust me.”

“Why do you even care?” Mei snapped, crossing her arms.

Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it, his jaw working as he tried to come up with a good answer. When he couldn’t, he just shrugged. “I just do, okay?”

Mei arched a brow, her lips curling into a smirk that held more frustration than amusement. "You just do, huh?" she mocked, crossing her arms. "That's not an answer, Rafe. It's an excuse."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his blue eyes locking onto hers. "Why are you making this such a big deal?"

"Because you're being a hypocrite!" Mei snapped, taking a step closer. "You screw around with half the girls in this town, and I don't say a damn thing about it. You're at every party, pulling girls into closets, making out with them in kitchens, and I don't care. So why the hell do you care if I want to have a little fun with Mason?"

Rafe's face darkened, but Mei wasn't finished. "Should we list names? Jessica, Lauren, Kate, Ashley, Sofia... oh, and let's not forget Clara from last weekend. Everyone knows about Clara, Rafe."

His lips parted, but no words came out. She'd hit a nerve, and they both knew it.

Mei leaned in, her voice dropping to a lower, more pointed tone. "You don't see me pulling you away from girls, do you? You don't see me cockblocking you. You can do whatever the hell you want, Rafe. So why can't I?"

For a moment, Rafe just stood there, his fists clenching at his sides. He hated hearing her say it-hated being reminded that she didn't care what he did, because maybe a part of him wanted her to. But he also hated the thought of Mason-stupid, clueless Mason-touching her, kissing her, taking her away from him, even for a night.

"You're right," Rafe said finally, his voice tight. "You don't care, and I shouldn't either."

Mei blinked, her anger faltering for just a second. She hadn't expected him to admit it so quickly-or at all. But before she could say anything, he stepped closer, his tone softening just enough to catch her off guard.

"But maybe I don't care about them," Rafe said, his eyes searching hers. "Not the way I care about you."

The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long. Mei's breath caught, her heart skipping a beat. She didn't know whether to believe him or to laugh in his face.

"You're full of shit," she said, her voice quieter now, though it lacked the usual bite.

"Maybe," Rafe admitted, a small, rueful smirk tugging at his lips. "But I meant it."

Mei scoffed at Rafe, a sharp, bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You meant it? Sure you did,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m going to find Mason and finish what I started.”

Rafe opened his mouth to protest, but she was already walking away, her heels clicking against the floor. His stomach churned, but he stayed rooted in place, watching as she disappeared into the crowd.

Mei found Mason near the kitchen again, his easy grin and casual demeanor drawing her in like a magnet. She didn’t hesitate, slipping into his space and tilting her head up with that signature coy smile.

“Hey,” she said, her voice dripping with honey. “I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

Mason raised a brow, his grin widening. “Avoiding you? Nah, Mei, you’d know if I was avoiding you.”

Her smile deepened as she leaned closer, her fingers brushing against his forearm. “Good. Because I was hoping we could pick up where we left off earlier. You’re the only person here who seems remotely interesting.”

Mason chuckled, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes scanned her face. “You’re bold. I’ll give you that.”

“You like bold, don’t you?” Mei countered, her voice teasing.

“I do,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to her lips before flicking back up to her eyes. “But…you’re kind of young for me, Mei.”

Her smile faltered, just for a second, before she quickly recovered. “Young? I’m eighteen. That’s hardly young.”

“For me? It is,” Mason said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re…I don’t know, innocent. Sweet.”

Mei raised a brow, her ego bruised. “You think I’m innocent?” She laughed, but it sounded forced. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”

Mason shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe not, but I can tell. You don’t belong in a room full of assholes like me, Mei. You’re better than that.”

Her jaw tightened as his words sank in. Better? Innocent? She wasn’t sure if she was insulted or flattered, but she didn’t like how it felt.

“Well,” she said, straightening up and tossing her hair over her shoulder, “maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do. I’m not as sweet as you think, Mason.”

Mason chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Mei. But I’m not going to be the guy who proves you wrong.”

Her lips parted in surprise, but Mason gave her an apologetic smile before stepping away, leaving her standing there, her pride wounded and her determination burning.

Mei downed the her drink, the alcohol doing little to temper the frustration bubbling in her chest. If Mason thought she was too innocent, then she’d make damn sure he saw otherwise.

She spotted him a little while later, leaning against the wall with a group of friends. Her steps were purposeful as she approached, her hips swaying just enough to catch his attention.

“Mason,” she said smoothly, interrupting the conversation. “Dance with me.”

He hesitated, glancing at his friends, but Mei wasn’t about to take no for an answer. She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the dance floor before he could protest.

Once they were surrounded by the pulsing crowd, Mei turned to face him, pressing herself closer than she normally would. Her hands rested on his chest as she leaned up to his ear. “Still think I’m too sweet for you?” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

Mason’s jaw ticked, his hands hovering at her hips before he reluctantly pulled back. “Mei, you’re proving my point.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her eyes flashing as she took a step closer. “Or are you just scared?”

Mason didn’t respond, his gaze flickering between her lips and her eyes before he finally stepped back, his hands falling to his sides.

“You’re gorgeous, Mei,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “But you don’t need to prove anything to me—or anyone else. Trust me, you’re better off without guys like me.”

Mei’s heart twisted, anger and embarrassment warring in her chest as she watched him walk away. But as she stood there, her cheeks flushed and her pride bruised, she realized she wasn’t done yet.

If Mason wanted her to prove him wrong, then that’s exactly what she’d do.

~~~

Mei’s fingers slid up Mason’s chest as she backed him into the bedroom, her confidence radiating even as her heart raced. She’d caught his attention again, and this time, he didn’t stop her. His lips tugged into a slow smirk, and she leaned in, her breath brushing against his ear.

“So, still think I’m too sweet?” she murmured, her tone dripping with challenge.

Mason chuckled, his hands finally landing on her waist. “Maybe I was wrong about you,” he said, his voice low.

She grinned, pushing the door closed behind them. Her lips found his, the kiss hot and electric as her hands tangled in his hair. For a moment, she reveled in it—the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of proving herself. But as Mason’s hands began to roam her body, a flicker of doubt crept in.

The taste was wrong. The way he held her was wrong. It wasn’t…

Rafe.

Her mind betrayed her, conjuring his face instead of Mason’s. She could practically feel Rafe’s cocky smirk, hear his rough laugh, smell his familiar cologne. The thought jolted her, but instead of pulling away, she leaned in deeper, trying to shake it off.

“Mei,” Mason murmured against her lips, his hands tightening on her hips. But his voice wasn’t the one she wanted to hear.

Outside the cracked door, Rafe leaned against the wall, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He’d been watching them earlier, his blood boiling as Mei had flirted her way into Mason’s arms. It didn’t matter that some blonde was draped over him now, her lips on his neck and her hands pulling at his shirt. His eyes kept flicking back to that door, his imagination running wild, each thought worse than the last.

“You good, baby?” the blonde purred, her nails raking down his chest.

Rafe forced a smirk, his hand sliding to her waist. “Never better,” he lied, pulling her into him. If Mei wanted to play this game, so could he.

Back in the bedroom, Mason’s kisses trailed down Mei’s neck, but her mind was far from the present. She closed her eyes, biting her lip as her thoughts drifted to Rafe. The way he teased her, the way his hands lingered just a second too long when he zipped her dress, the way he always seemed to know how to get under her skin.

Her breathing hitched, and Mason paused, pulling back to look at her. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, her hands framing his face to pull him back to her. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice shaky.

But as their lips met again, she couldn’t stop herself. In her mind, it wasn’t Mason she was kissing anymore. It was Rafe—arrogant, infuriating, complicated Rafe.

Her fingers curled into Mason’s shirt as she kissed him harder, desperate to drown out the confusion swirling inside her. But the more she tried, the more Rafe’s face, his voice, his touch consumed her thoughts.

And it was driving her crazy.

Mei's back hit the mattress, and her heart pounded against her ribs as she pulled Mason-or at least she thought it was Mason-closer. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. She closed her eyes, her hands running up his chest, and in her mind, it wasn't Mason above her anymore.

It was Rafe.

His smirk burned into her thoughts, his cocky, teasing words echoing in her ears. His hands weren't soft or cautious like Mason's-they were rough, confident, possessive. As her nails dragged along his skin, she could almost hear Rafe's low chuckle, the one that always made her stomach twist in the best and worst ways.

"Thought you wanted Mason," the Rafe in her mind teased, his lips brushing her ear as his hand pinned her wrist to the bed.

Her breath hitched, her body reacting to the idea of him rather than the reality in front of her. "Shut up," she murmured, the words spilling from her lips before she could stop them.

Mason froze for a second. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, pulling him back down, desperate to keep going, desperate to hold onto the fantasy she was spinning in her head.

Rafe's voice was still there, taunting her. His lips moved from her ear to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to send a shiver down her spine. His hands roamed her body like they owned it, rough and unapologetic, setting her every nerve on fire.

"You like this, don't you?" his voice growled in her mind, and she could only gasp in response.

The lines between fantasy and reality blurred as she arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "Rafe..." she whispered before she could stop herself, the name slipping out like a confession.

Mason pulled back, his brows furrowed. "Did you just say Rafe?"

Her eyes snapped open, the illusion shattering as reality crashed back in. Mason stared down at her, confusion and hurt written all over his face, and Mei's stomach dropped.

"I-" She scrambled for an explanation, but her lips wouldn't form the words. Her heart raced, her mind a mess of guilt and frustration.

Mason sat up, running a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Mei, what the hell?"

She couldn't answer, her thoughts still spinning with the image of Rafe - his smirk, his touch, his everything.

"Maybe I should go," Mason said, shaking his head as he climbed off the bed.

Mei didn't stop him. She couldn't. Because deep down, she knew the truth.

It wasn't Mason she wanted.

It had always been Rafe.

Mei stormed out of the bedroom, her mind racing and her chest tight. Her body was buzzing with frustration, not just at Mason for turning her down, but at herself for not being able to get Rafe out of her head. She needed to find him - now.

She moved through the crowd, ignoring the drunken laughs and blaring music as she asked around. "Have you seen Rafe?" she demanded from a girl near the drinks table.

The girl pointed toward the corner of the room with a smirk. "Over there, probably charming the pants off someone."

Mei's jaw clenched as she turned in the direction she'd been given, and sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the wall, Rafe had a blonde pressed up against him, his hands gripping her waist while his mouth worked against hers. The sight sent a flash of heat and anger surging through Mei, her nails curling into her palms.

What the hell was he doing?

Without thinking, she marched across the room, her heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor. Rafe didn't even notice her approach, too caught up in whatever nonsense he was whispering in the blonde's ear. Mei felt her stomach twist at the sight, her frustration boiling over as she shoved her way between them.

"Move," Mei said sharply to the blonde, who blinked in shock but stepped aside, intimidated by Mei's sudden burst of authority.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk lazy and amused as he looked down at Mei. "Jealous, Peach?" he teased, licking his lips as if to taunt her further.

Instead of answering, Mei grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level, crashing her lips against his in a kiss that was equal parts anger and need. Rafe froze for half a second, startled, but quickly recovered. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back, just as fiery and aggressive as she was.

The room around them seemed to disappear, the music fading into the background as Mei poured all of her pent-up frustration into the kiss. Her fingers twisted into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against her lips.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rafe muttered when they finally broke apart, his voice rough and breathless.

Mei glared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "You're mine tonight," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Rafe's smirk widened, his hands tightening on her hips. "Oh, is that how it is?"

"Yeah," Mei said, her voice low and daring. "You got a problem with that?"

"Not at all, Peach," Rafe replied, his eyes darkening with something that made her stomach flip. "Not at all."

Without another word, she pulled him back down, her lips crashing into his once more, determined to drown out every thought and feeling in the only way she knew how-with him.

Rafe let out a low chuckle as Mei yanked him toward the door, her grip firm on his wrist. "In a rush, Peach?" he teased, though the heat in his voice betrayed that he was just as eager.

"Shut up and move," Mei snapped, throwing a glance over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes blazing with determination.

The cool night air hit them as they stumbled out of the house. The muffled thump of the party music faded into the background, and Mei's heels clicked against the pavement as she led him to his car.

Rafe smirked when she stopped in front of his sleek black SUV, her chest heaving with adrenaline. "Could've just asked nicely," he drawled, unlocking the car with a click.

Mei didn't bother with a reply. She shoved him against the side of the car, her hands gripping the collar of his shirt as she crushed her lips against his. It was messy and desperate, her frustration pouring into every kiss, every nip of his bottom lip.

Rafe groaned against her mouth, his hands sliding to her waist and pulling her closer. "Damn, Peach," he muttered, his voice rough and teasing. "Didn't know you were so needy."

"Shut up," Mei hissed, her fingers already fumbling with the handle of the back door. She yanked it open and shoved him inside, climbing in after him.

The space was tight, but Mei didn't care. She straddled him on the backseat, her dress riding up as she settled on his lap. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him into another searing kiss.

Rafe's hands roamed her thighs, slipping under the fabric of her dress and gripping her hips. "You sure about this?" he murmured, his lips brushing her jaw.

She glared at him, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Do I look unsure?"

Rafe grinned, his eyes dark and hungry. "Fair point."

Their movements became a blur of urgency-clothes tugged aside, breathless gasps filling the confined space. Mei's mind was a whirlwind, her frustration and desire finally colliding in the only way she could think to satisfy them.

Every touch, every kiss, every groan that escaped Rafe's lips sent a jolt of electricity through her. And when he finally pressed her back against the seat, his hands firm on her hips as he moved against her, all the tension she'd been carrying melted away, replaced by pure, unfiltered heat.

"Peach," Rafe groaned, his voice low and wrecked, his forehead resting against hers.

"Don't stop," Mei whispered, her nails raking down his back.

And for once, Rafe didn't have a smart-ass comment. He just gave her what she needed, every moment a chaotic, messy, and perfect blur.

Rafe's hands gripped Mei's thighs tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as if anchoring himself. The cramped space of the car only heightened the heat between them, their bodies pressed together with no room for hesitation. Mei's dress was bunched up around her waist, the fabric forgotten as Rafe's rough palms slid along her bare skin, his movements deliberate and teasing.

"God, Mei," he muttered, his voice thick and uneven, lips brushing against her ear. "You're driving me fucking insane."

"Good," Mei shot back, her breath hitching as his mouth trailed along her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. Her hands fumbled at his shirt, pushing it up and over his head with a huff of frustration when it got caught on his arm.

Rafe chuckled darkly, helping her with a cocky smirk. "Impatient much?"

"Shut up," she snapped, her hands moving to the button of his jeans, popping it open with more force than necessary. She didn't have time for his snark; her body was buzzing with frustration and need, and every second they spent talking felt like a waste.

Rafe leaned back against the seat, watching her with hooded eyes as she worked on freeing him. His lips quirked up in that familiar smug grin, but there was something more in his gaze-something darker, hungrier.

When she finally succeeded, her hand wrapped around him, and Rafe let out a sharp breath, his head falling back against the window. "Fuck, Peach," he groaned, his voice low and guttural.

Mei shifted on his lap, aligning herself without hesitation. Her eyes locked onto his, daring him to say something snarky, but Rafe was too far gone for words. The moment she sank down onto him, a sharp gasp escaped her lips, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body adjusted to the intrusion.

"Jesus," Rafe hissed, his hands flying to her hips to steady her. His grip was firm but not controlling, his thumbs stroking her skin almost tenderly. "You're-fuck, Mei."

Her head fell back as she began to move, slow and deliberate at first, testing her limits. The stretch burned in the best way, and the friction sent shocks of pleasure through her body, curling in her stomach like fire.

Rafe's control snapped as she found her rhythm, his hips lifting to meet hers with every thrust. His hands guided her movements, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks. The car was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and Mei's soft, breathless moans.

"Rafe," she whispered, his name falling from her lips like a prayer, and it sent him over the edge.

He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as their movements grew more desperate, more frantic. One of his hands slid up her back, tangling in her hair, while the other stayed on her hip

Rafe's hands gripped Mei's thighs tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as if anchoring himself. The cramped space of the car only heightened the heat between them, their bodies pressed together with no room for hesitation. Mei's dress was bunched up around her waist, the fabric forgotten as Rafe's rough palms slid along her bare skin, his movements deliberate and teasing.

Rafe's grip tightened as his movements became rougher, need overtaking any restraint he might've had. Mei's fingers dug into his shoulders, her nails dragging down his skin, leaving red trails in their wake. Every roll of her hips sent shivers through her, the pressure building inside her like a storm ready to break.

"God, Rafe," she gasped against his lips, her voice breathless and trembling. His name spilled from her mouth like a mantra, each syllable laced with desperation and pleasure.

"You feel so fucking good," he growled, his voice gravelly and low. His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, sucking at the delicate skin there, his teeth grazing just enough to leave a mark.

Mei's head fell back, her hair brushing against the roof of the car as her body arched into him. "Harder," she demanded, her voice low but commanding, and Rafe didn't hesitate.

He gripped her hips harder, lifting her slightly before slamming her back down, each thrust hitting deeper and harder than the last. Mei's cries grew louder, her hands tangling in his hair as she tugged, pulling his head back to capture his lips again in a messy, heated kiss.

The car windows fogged up, the air inside thick with heat and the scent of their bodies. The cramped space forced them closer, their movements tangled and frantic as they chased their release together.

"Look at me," Rafe demanded, his voice sharp but full of want. His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face toward his as his dark blue eyes burned into hers. "I want to see you."

Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, and the intensity in his gaze sent a new wave of heat rushing through her. Her body trembled, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps as she teetered on the edge.

"I can't-" Mei started, her words breaking off into a moan as her body tightened around him.

"You can," Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against hers, his voice softer now but no less commanding. "Come on, Peach. Let go."

That was all it took. Her body shuddered, waves of pleasure crashing over her as she cried out his name, her nails biting into his skin. Rafe wasn't far behind, a low groan tearing from his throat as he gripped her tightly, his body tensing as he found his release.

For a moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing, their bodies still tangled together as they came down from the high. Mei rested her forehead against Rafe's, her eyes closed as she tried to steady her racing heart.

"Feel better now?" Rafe asked after a beat, his voice teasing but still rough from the intensity of what they'd just shared.

Mei let out a soft, breathless laugh, her lips quirking into a small smile. "Shut up," she muttered, but there was no bite to her words.

Rafe smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Didn't think you'd actually go through with pulling me out of the party for this," he said, his tone smug.

Mei rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. "I needed to prove a point," she said, leaning back slightly.

"Oh, you proved it," Rafe replied, his grin widening. "And I think I won."

Mei scoffed, sliding off his lap and smoothing down her dress. "Whatever helps you sleep at night," she shot back, though the faint blush on her cheeks gave her away.

Rafe leaned back, watching her with a satisfied smirk as she adjusted herself. "You're not getting rid of me that easily now, Peach," he teased, his tone light but his eyes lingering on her with something deeper.

Mei didn't respond, but the way her lips curled into a small, secretive smile told him everything he needed to know.

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[sngj08]

[Not so Quiet Boy] Sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: your friend tries to set you up with an old acquaintance of yours in hopes to get him a girlfriend by the end of his senior year

genre: crush to friends, friends to lovers, crush to lovers, high school romance, after school and outside of school hangouts, mixed signals, friends playing cupid, friends not saying everything, obvious flirting but protagonist doesn't see,

warning: profanity

author's note: all of this is from true experience and none of them were altered besides names.

prev / masterlist / next

Chapter 2: Some Pictures

As you went out of the gift shop after the Guardians of the Galaxy ride, all of you passed across Avengers Campus.

While walking, you spot Shang Chi. “Guys look! It’s Shang Chi!” You pointed at him which made him wave at your group.

“Yo he makes me feel so included guys.” Sunghoon joked which made you laugh as you passed by Shang Chi. A few steps down, almost the end of Avengers Campus, you spot another Avenger. “OMG Look, it's Black Panther!” You excitedly said as everyone looked at Black Panther. “Do you want a photo with Black Panther?” Sunghoon asked you and you shook your head in embarrassment of your excited tone just being so obvious you wanted the photo.

“If I’m the only one who would take a picture, it’s fine guys.” You said reassuring them when Sunghoon added in.

“No it’s ok. I also want a photo.” He said with a smile as you excitedly went up to Black Panther. Elisa and Jennie looked at each other questioningly, then looked at you but you just smiled at them and shrugged it off.

In a snap, you guys were back on track, walking to the next ride. “Do you guys want me to send the picture in the groupchat?” Sunghoon said as he looked at the photos. “Yes please!” Jennie said as she was skipping with Elisa. You were too busy waiting for the picture to send in the groupchat so that you would have something to send to your mother. And as soon as the photo got sent, you directly sent it to your mother without double thinking.

As you look up from your phone, you see that you guys almost fully passed Cars Land. “Yo cars! This was my childhood.” You said out of pocket and out loud as the other two girls were still skipping. 

Your phone pinged, so you looked down to see that your mom liked the photo you sent with a small message from her to remember to have fun. In thought, you looked to the floor, to notice the floor was a tad wet from fog. The floor was also declining downwards so you started to walk slower while using your phone.

Slowly walking you see Sunghoon pass by from behind you and stopped a bit in front of you for a sign to catch up.

You tried your best to walk faster but ended up walking slowly again.

As you guys were entering San Fransokyo Square, you see the sign you've been seeing in videos. So for a quick second, you started to take a picture of the sign for your instagram until you could see Sunghoon in your peripheral vision turn around to see you taking a picture of the sign. “Guys wait, Yn's taking a picture.” He said to the others to make them turn around and stop.

You didn't know if you heard it wrong but you shrugged it off.

“No it’s ok guys. I just wanted to take a picture of the sign. I’ll follow along.” You try to indirectly tell them to start walking again. “No it’s ok. Do you want me to take a picture of you?” Sunghoon spoke as he walked closer to you but you replied. “Are you guys sure? I’m the only one who wants to take a photo so it’s fine. You can wait for me by the line.” You spoke again in defense as Sunghoon started walking closer to you than usual, trying to get your phone from you while the others walked to you both. “No, it’s awkward.” You turned down again, hiding your phone behind your back. “Why not let’s just take a selfie guys.” Elisa spoke out as you nodded in defeat.

“Can someone with the longest arms take the photo?” You waved your phone in the air, hoping Jennie would pick up your phone when Sunghoon spoke. “That would be me!” He snatched your phone from your hand as we started to gather up for the sign. You smiled for the picture as he took a couple of pictures and gave you your phone. “I feel like I was going to drop your phone.” He said, talking about how your phone didn’t have a phone case, you just laughed at his statement.

“Anywhere else you want to take a picture?” Elisa said as you guys started walking again. “Woah, look at the bridge!!” You pointed at the small Golden Gate Bridge while doing little jumps in excitement. “Do you want me to take a picture of you by the gate?” Sunghoon said and without hesitation, you gave him your phone and waited for people to walk away from the bridge to get a picture. As you walk towards the center of the bridge, you look up to pose just to see Sunghoon freeze. You were about to start scolding him to hurry up until Elisa just snatched your phone and started to take your photos.

“We should get a group photo!” Jennie said and everyone cheered with the idea. “Ok but I’m not asking a stranger.” Jennie said. “Me too.” Elisa also responded. “I think I can ask someone.” You said as you were going to a cast member but you see Sunghoon already asking someone to take the group photo.

You were taken off guard knowing Sunghoon was a full on introvert back in school but you shrugged it off again.

As you guys thanked the person who took the photo, you guys started walking to the Pixar Pier.

“Do you know that there’s some snow cones in the pier that I love? Can we get some later? They seem closed right now.” He asked as we passed by the stall, bummed out that it was still closed.

taglist: (open) @enhacolor @beigerin @tasnemluvs

[rainy19days]

This is exactly what I've been thinking too. He Tian knows that Guan Shan is hurt but it's so typical of him too to hide his own true feelings behind a smile and fake nonchalace. We can see him poking and prodding at Guan Shan to admit he missed him and still has feelings for him. Even when Guan Shan finally snaps at him and says he would've already forgotten about him long ago if he didn't come back He Tian calls his bluff, he knows Guan Shan says it to hurt him, to push him away. But then happy go lucky He Tian is back with his teasing and only when he sees the evidence of Guan Shan keeping him in his memory (with all the hurt proved by the covered face) it's like he wasn't actually ready to be faced with what he kinda asked for. Maybe he expected Guan Shan to just say the words "yeah, I missed you chicken dick" in an angry manner and imagined they would simply make up then and live happily ever after. Little did he know, though, Guan Shan had been mourning their relationship all this time and now He Tian has to deal with the consequences of his absence as well as the severity of the pain it caused. Perhaps also realizing that his unserious attitude hasn't been helping in mending things between them all this time since he came back.

I love how you mentioned that Guan Shan doesn't hate He Tian because I see lots of people being confused or straight up upset about their dynamic in this future timeline, saying how Guan Shan's attitude doesn't make sense and that the two of them haven't made any real progress, therefore it's boring or Old Xian can't decide where they stand.

I don't know if those people ever dealt with relationship problems that are complex and multilayered and breaking up is not an obvious option. Where your heart got broken but you still love the person who hurt you. And sometimes they hurt you unintentionally. And you want to forgive them and deep in your heart you want to spend the rest of your life with them but heartbreak is not just hurt feelings. It's a broken trust. It's a broken self esteem. It breaks you in many different ways. So you love them and don't want them out of your life and you keep them close but certain situations trigger your fears, reminding you why your heart got broken and you suddenly snap at the most random moments, asking yourself if you can go on like this, unable to stop clinging to the past and reminiscing about the time you tried to mend your shattered heart... Wondering if it's possible to ever forgive and you're so ready to push them away cause the pain is too much at times and you wish you could just forget them. But then you remember why you fell in love with them in the first place and they're still the same person you fell in love with, they just made one mistake... So you make an effort to live in the present, you give them another chance, until the past creeps in on you and you snap again...

Healing is never linear. There are better days and worse days. We can't expect Guan Shan to instantly forgive and forget all the hurt even if he hangs out with He Tian and lets himself have some tender moments with the other. I imagine every day is a battle for him, on one hand there's his pride and hurt and maybe wish for He Tian to acknowledge it, on the other there's his undeniable love for He Tian that he can't ignore.

I hope the realization He Tian was hit with is going to make him drop the easygoing act and face Guan Shan seriously with an apology and explanation. I hope that instead of waiting for Guan Shan to admit his feelings He Tian will approach him and validate his feelings first.

this update is devastating for obvious reasons but there's something else I've been thinking about all day

yes, the box is a confirmation that guan shan considered he tian an important person in his life and that he never really moved on after he tian left. that realization is hard-hitting, but my god, there's another underlying component that makes this discovery especially emotional to me

after spending a lifetime in isolation (a deliberate choice for self-preservation btw), he tian now has physical, undeniable evidence that someone cares/cared for him. and not just the idea of him, not the physicality of him (guan shan literally covered his face with tape), but just him and the time they spent together

I imagine this realization must feel like if someone approached you in a quiet and windowless room and said, "there's a bad rainstorm happening outside." you would trust/understand what they're conveying and you'd have an idea of what a 'bad storm' entails. you'd say, "oof, that sucks, hopefully it lets up soon."

but if you actually got up and walked outside and felt the rain pelting your face like bullets and saw trees getting uprooted in the wind and streets flooding with swells of water and roofs getting torn off houses and streetlights shattered and collapsed in the intersections, you'd backpedal and think, "oh shit. I didn't know it was this bad."

that's what I think he tian might be experiencing in those last few panels.

during their school days, guan shan eventually started showing how much he cared about he tian. he tian trusted and understood what guan shan was trying to convey, and he got a taste of what it was like to care for someone and be cared for by someone. he sampled what it’s like to be important to someone, and to be seen by someone in both the dark and the light

but now, years later, opening that (bittersweet) memory box is like the equivalent of walking into the rainstorm. during the entire time he was gone, he tian was hoping that guan shan still remembered/missed him. he knew his absence probably hurt him, but since he wasn’t there to witness the aftermath, he only had an idea of what that hurt looked like. but his hope about guan shan’s feelings wasn't certain and it definitely wasn't verifiable. he tian had an idea of what ‘guan shan cared for me’ and ‘we shared something special’ meant. but, really, he only had memories and his own interpretation of those memories. nothing physical, nothing tangibly conclusive or outright

but now the rain feels like bullets and there’s devastation in knowing that the damage is significant — but somehow there’s also the touching revelation that he tian is lovable and capable of being wanted and missed. it is possible for someone to see the worst sides of him and endure the awful heartbreak he puts them through and still think he’s worth missing/grieving. he risked his self-preservation and the payoff was the best and worst thing that ever happened to him

the box and the layers of torn tape show that guan shan hates what he tian did to him but he doesn’t hate he tian. he kept and memorialized every significant memento in their relationship, even if he did it with some anger or reluctance. this is truly the best-case scenario, yet it’s also a wounding reminder about the time lost and the pain inflicted

at the end of the day, it just hurts

[gregmarriage]

always sunny was actually soooo sick for having dee tell mac that he should get a boyfriend (while glancing at dennis)

then, literally the NEXT season, mac has a boyfriend and it’s DENNIS.

except, it’s dennis posing as someone else, and getting jealous of HIMSELF. truly incredible television fr

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[miihho]

Can you please write type of guy headcanons for dae ho and gi hun 🥺? Thank you ❤️

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) nsfw

Dae ho / Player 388

— DAE HO IS THE KIND OF GUY who radiates warmth and loyalty, like a golden retriever. When Dae ho saw you effortlessly take down the two bullies harassing someone else, his eyes gleamed with admiration, captivated by your strength and resolve. As the crowd erupted in applause, he couldn’t help but feel an even deeper respect for you. In that moment, you earned not only their admiration but his as well. (His crush on you was developing gradually.)

—He's the kind of guy who blushes whenever you're near, his nerves getting the best of him as he stammers while talking to you, laughing awkwardly. It's all because you're so sweet to him—and to everyone else, too! He can't help but adore that about you.

—He’s the kind of guy who genuinely wants to get to know you better, not just the surface-level details, but the little things that make you who you are. He asks questions with true curiosity, listens intently, and cherishes every story you share. To him, understanding you isn’t just about filling in gaps—it’s about building a connection that goes beyond the ordinary.

—He’s the kind of guy who secretly gives you his food. One day, after returning from your bed, you noticed some milk on it. Curiosity piqued, you wondered who could have left it there, but hey, free milk, right? So you drank it. If he saw you enjoying it, he'd be totally happy inside, his heart warming at the thought of you drinking it. But if you didn’t, and instead gave it to someone else, he'd feel a little sad, pouting as he quietly watched from afar.

— He’s the type of guy who daydreams about you even in his sleep, a soft smile playing on his lips as he imagines taking you out on a date, giving you flowers, and writing you heartfelt letters. He’s kind and sweet, but also shy around you.

— He’s the type of guy who supports you wholeheartedly, cheering you on through every victory. He wishes and prays that you’ll make it through the next game, and when you do, his heart swells with happiness. He desperately wants to run up to you, hug you tightly, and lift you off the ground, spinning you in the air while admiring you. But his nerves hold him back. Instead, he smiles shyly from a distance, watching as others celebrate your success, his joy quietly battling with his anxiety as he longs to be the one to congratulate you.

—He’s the kind of guy who admires you from afar, his heart skipping a beat every time you smile. When you're talking with your teammates, he can't help but stare at you lovingly, a soft smile creeping onto his face. But when Jung Bae notices his smile and asks about it, he panics, nervously brushing it off as nothing. If Jung Bae catches on to who he's looking at, he’d tease him, leaving him blushing and flustered, unable to hide his feelings.

— He’s also the kind of guy who would protect you no matter the cost. One night, when it was time to sleep, he stayed watch over you, ensuring your safety. In the process, he nearly put himself in danger, but managed to take care of the threat. Just as he thought it was over, he noticed someone about to ambush you from behind. Without hesitation, he shouted your name.

“Y/n!” he called out, grabbing your attention. As you turned to face him, he ran toward you, tackling you to the ground just in time to shield you from a knife aimed at your back. He placed a protective hand on your head, his heart pounding in his chest.

After dealing with the person who tried to harm you, he was consumed with worry, his concern for you evident in every glance. His hands trembled as he checked for any injuries, his eyes scanning your body for bruises. When he finally saw you were okay, relief washed over him, and he couldn’t help but smile, saying softly, “I’m glad you’re alright, Y/n.”

— He’s the kind of guy who, when you're speaking to him, finds it hard to hear anything at all. You're simply glowing, and he's so completely lost in admiration for you, smiling without even realizing it. When a strand of your hair falls across your face, he can't help but gently tuck it behind your ear. The moment you look up at him, his heart skips a beat, and he suddenly becomes acutely aware of what he’s done. Flustered, he starts to stutter out a flurry of excuses, his nervousness betraying him. But all you do is laugh softly, calling him "cute." That single, simple word sends his heart into a frantic race, leaving him breathless and unable to shake the warmth spreading through him.

—He’s the kind of guy who would go to any length to protect you, even if it means hurting the people who’ve hurt you. He’ll keep going until his fists bleed, unable to stop because his care for you runs so deep. He doesn’t want to see you in pain, and his love for you pushes him to act without thinking of the consequences. Even when you beg him to stop, he’s torn, unable to hold back the intensity of his emotions. But deep down, you know that right? That he just cares for you more than anything.

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll do whatever it takes to cheer you up when you’re feeling down. When you're crying, he'll be right there, comforting you with soft, reassuring words like, "I’ll be here for you," and "It’s okay, everything’s going to be alright." He’ll pull you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace, rubbing your back gently as he holds you close, offering a quiet strength that makes you feel safe. His presence is enough to ease the weight on your heart, as he promises to always be there for you, no matter what.

—He’s the kind of guy who, when in love, will sneakily try to get closer to you, even if it means "accidentally" bumping into people in the crowd. Just being near you makes him happy, and the slightest touch from you sends a thrill through him. If your eyes meet by accident, he’ll hold your gaze for a second, but then quickly look away, his face turning bright red with embarrassment. When he tries to glance at you again and you catch him, his heart races uncontrollably. He’s sure he even heard you chuckle, and in that moment, he can’t handle it anymore—embarrassed and flustered, he tries to hide in the shadows, wishing he could escape how you make him feel. (You have no idea how much you’re making him nervous.)

—He’s the kind of guy who would shower your face with kisses, making you giggle and laugh, completely captivated by the joy he brings. He’s also the type who’s hopeless at flirting, but he still gives it a shot, despite knowing he’s not great at it. When he catches you staring into his eyes, his confidence crumbles, and he can’t find his words, stammering as his mind goes blank. And when you laugh, a soft, teasing chuckle, it only makes him more flustered, his heart racing as he awkwardly tries to recover, unable to stop the warmth spreading across his face. (ARGEUWHRAHHH)

— When he's in a relationship with you, he's the kind of guy who'll ask for a good luck kiss before every game you play together.

—He’s the kind of guy you’ll wake up to, his comforting voice gently pulling you from your sleep. “Good morning, baby,” he’ll say, his smile already softening his features. “Morning, sunshine,” or “Good morning, sweetheart, did you sleep well?” he’ll ask, his voice warm and full of affection as he watches you slowly wake up.

—He’s the kind of guy who would tenderly kiss the places you’re most insecure about, as if to remind you of how beautiful you truly are. He’s the one who won’t stop kissing you, pulling you back every time you try to pull away, as if he can’t let go of the warmth you bring.

—He’s also the kind of guy who craves you in the purest, most innocent ways. He craves the chance to say goodnight and press a soft kiss to your forehead, to tell you how much he adores you, especially when you feel at your lowest. He doesn’t need anything more or less—just being near you, sharing quiet moments together, is all he could ever want.

—He’s the kind of guy who kisses you slowly, with so much passion that it feels like time itself has paused. To him, every moment matters, and he wants to make it last—pressing his lips softly against yours, savoring the closeness. His eyes remain closed, his hands resting firmly on your waist as he pulls you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go. When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks with yours, filled with love so deep it leaves you breathless. And just when you think it’s over, he leans in to kiss you again.

—He’s the kind of guy who would stay outside your house all night the moment you mentioned your parents weren’t home. You said it in a teasing, seductive tone, hoping he’d catch the hint—but instead, his protective instincts took over completely. Without a second thought, he made it his mission to ensure your safety. The cool breeze and late hours didn’t faze him; his only focus was making sure nothing could harm you.

—He’s the kind of guy who values your comfort above all else, always asking for your consent to ensure you’re at ease. When you overstimulate him, soft whines and gasps escape his lips, his breathing uneven as he tries to handle the intensity. He’s incredibly careful, his fear of hurting you evident in the way he constantly checks in, asking if you’re okay. If you show even the slightest discomfort, he immediately stops, gently comforting you with soothing words and touches. Only when you’re ready does he proceed, moving slowly and tenderly.

—He’s the kind of guy who would be endlessly obedient for you, hanging on your every word just to make you happy. When you call him a “good boy,” his cheeks flush a soft pink, and he can’t help but feel a swell of pride, as if earning your praise is the greatest accomplishment. The way he gets all shy and bashful in response only makes the moment sweeter.

—He’s also the kind of guy who whispers a breathless “please” when you tease him, his voice trembling with both desperation and longing. When you refuse to let him cum, he’ll keep pleading, his tone growing needier, begging you to finally let him release cum since you've been edging him for hours straight.

—He’s the kind of guy who moans a lot and would be needy for you. Like he's breathy and full of unrestrained moans as pleasure overwhelms him. His voice, low and husky, spills out between gasps as he murmurs how good you feel. For example.

In the cramped confines of a public bathroom stall, he tries desperately to not make a sound. His trembling hand rests on your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He was desperately trying to keep quiet, not wanting anyone outside the stall to discover what you were doing. But you decided to tease him, to push him just a little further. Holding his gaze, you slowly ran your tongue over the tip of his cock, maintaining eye contact that had him on the verge of losing all composure.

“Baby, please...” he begged, his tone barely audible but dripping with raw desperation. His hips bucked slightly, seeking more friction, his body betraying how badly he needed release.

You smirked, letting your lips hover over his slick, aching member, your warm breath teasing his already overstimulated skin. “Hm? What’s that?” you teased, maintaining a deliberate slowness. “You’ll have to speak up.”

His head fell back, and a quiet whine escaped him, “I can’t—please, I need it so bad baby, please let me cum... Want you. I want you so bad.” he whimpered, the faint sound of his soft, needy whines filled the stall, his breathing uneven and ragged as he clung to what little composure he had left. His head tilted back against the wall, his lips parted, and his cheeks flushed as he whimpered softly.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his flushed face and sweat-dampened skin making him look utterly undone. The way he squirmed and whimpered under your control had you tempted to keep teasing him, but his broken whispers and the raw adoration in his eyes made you relent.

"hng...—oh fuck," he gasped, his breath uneven as you gave in at last. "Your mouth feels so good baby, so damn perfect, fuck keep going just like that baby." His praise spilled out uncontrollably, barely coherent as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

—Hes also the kind of guy who cries during sex. (Something about men crying is just hgnngjdhe)

“Baby, please stop..” he whimpered, his voice trembling with the weight of his plea. “It’s too much… please, it’s too much.” His hands weakly gripped your waist, trying to stop you, but his body trembled with each movement, and yet there was no escape from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Aww, sweetie,” you cooed, not slowing down. “Just one more round, mkay? I know You can handle it for me."

“N-no, please… it’s too much… I don’t think I can…take it,” he said, his tear-filled eyes locking with yours, his flushed face streaked with the weight of his emotions. The sight of him so vulnerable made your heart ache, and without hesitation, you gently wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks with the pad of your thumb.

“Aww, don’t cry my love,” you whispered softly, your voice tender as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his forehead. “You’re my good boy, right? You’re doing so well for me. Just a little more, baby.”

“Fine… just one more.” he said, his voice soft and shaky. The way he melted under your touch, still willing to give more despite how overwhelmed he felt. (You made him cum multiple times 🫶🏻)

I decided to do dae ho first cuz he cute(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) HAPPY NEW YEAR

[luckhissoul]

that's the exact response that he had wanted. he liked to get people who were somewhat skeptical and have them eating up stories he told. he liked knowing he still could work one out. it's something of a thrill, almost as much of one as if the story itself had been true. he likes how interested she looks, how she keeps asking him for a little more each time he gives her something.

"right here?" he asks if he's unsure. knowing that's going to make her doubt for a second. but it's all part of the story. it feels good actually after the brief moment of feigned hesitation passes. it feels good when he does stand up.

he pretends for a moment to have some modesty about it. but without any egging on he lifts his shirt up to his chest. showcasing two thin knife scars across his ribs, lower there's the circular bullet wound, a few burn scars scattered over his chest. and one peaking out from the band of his pants that'd run down his leg. but that one is a story for another day. maybe she might even ask. he points to the circle one. these feel detached in a way, impersonal compared to the one he hides behind his scarf. "that's right where it hit."

THE DRAMATIC PAUSE WORKS. As cynical and skeptical as Rhea wants to be, she's a sucker for this whole thing. Maybe it's the nature of the story, so unlike anything she hears from the average tourist—maybe it's actually Mat's charm. Rhea would never acknowledge that consciously, though.

Her eyes go wide, undoubtedly, as the story becomes more and more outlandish. Her gaze flickers down to his torso like she'll be able to see a gunshot wound through his clothes.

"Prove it," she demands, bold and more than a little eager. "Lift your shirt up, right here in front of god and everybody. Show me where the bullet hit." She's not doing a good job at doing her job, and she's also asked a customer to cause a small scene. She doesn't seem to mind. Sometimes, Rhea feels reckless and unbothered by consequence.

[gojoest]

curiosity — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, childhood friends to lovers, satoru is painfully aware of his own feelings while reader is not, mention of past girlfriends (and how they all looked like you), handjob (m! receiving), cumming in pants (and in your hand), not proofread, wc: 2k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

synopsis: gojo satoru is your childhood best friend. you’ve been inseparable ever since you were little. spending day and night together, you’d often have sleepovers together — a tradition you both carried on throughout your college years. at least once a week you’d drop by his dorm room and stay the night, or vice versa. but compared to your childhood days, you no longer share one bed. that is, until . . .

part 2

a/n: this is a further (and very lousy) elaboration on this post of mine but hey, HAPPY BDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY

“i think we should try sleeping together”, you suggest one night.

“wah—“, satoru gasps, a teasing glint in his eyes. “didn’t know you felt that way about me”, he smirks.

“just sleeping”, you quickly clarify. “whatever obscene thing you just thought of — it’s not that”, you add, giving him a roll of your eyes.

“you should pick your words more wisely”, he scoffs. “if you go around telling people you want to sleep with them, they will misunderstand”

“ugh”, you huff, “i obviously didn’t mean it like that, and you know it”

“yeah, i do”, he lets out a soft chuckle. he knew exactly what you meant, but still he disguised his wishful thinking behind a teasing remark. “why though? all of a sudden?”

“dunno”, you shrug. “just feeling bad that you always take the floor”

“if that’s the case we can just swap”

“no — i cherish my comfort. come on, we used to do this all the time”, you pout.

indeed you did. but you were kids back then, things were different.

his heartbeat would race and his face would get all hot and red, the heat would fester through his entire body. but when the lights were off it was easy to hide it, the signs that he liked you. after making sure you were fast asleep, he would hold your hand and childishly smile to himself, he would peck it softly, secretly. one time you woke up in the middle of the night and almost caught him but he, startled, kicked you off the bed. yelling at you, lying, how you pushed your finger in his nostril in your sleep… he was so embarrassed, but also relieved you believed what he said was true. his secret was safe.

but now?

when you stand too close to him his body starts acting up in more mature ways. while he is better at controlling his facial expressions now and hiding his nervous heartbeat behind a nonchalant attitude, he struggles with keeping his urges at bay. he’s no longer the boy that blushes while secretly holding your hand; he is a man who craves you.

even when he’s laid on the futon beside the bed you occupy, the sound of your breathing alone gets him hard. you lie there, sleeping innocently, unaware of how much of a pain in the crotch you are being to him. when you leave in the mornings, he climbs onto the bed that is soaked with your scent and shamelessly jerks off. he stands on his knees and sprays his load on the bedsheets. eyes shut close, he pictures you beneath him.

he sighs in defeat. “fine”

“the right side is mine — it’s only natural, because i am always right”, you snicker and quickly pad over to the bed, plopping your body down on the mattress. “sure”, he chuckles and follows after you, sinking himself right next to you.

it is a bit awkward, you must admit. you are laid on your sides facing each other, in silence.

it’s cramped indeed, your knees are brushing against his and the space in the middle separating your bodies from one another is very scarce. but that was to be expected, the beds in the dorm rooms were designed for one person after all.

“so”, you break the silence. “how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“she’s not my girlfriend, anymore”, he states dryly.

“but it’s been barely two weeks since you started dating”

“well, things didn’t work out i guess”

the girls he dated, all of them looked a bit like you. same height, same hair color and length. similar facial features… he never lasted long with any of them though. all of them, visibly bothered by your presence in his life, would too soon ask him to make a choice — either them or you. neither of them aware that he chose to be with them in the first place only because they reminded him of you, and that it was never the question itself that drove him away from them. it was bound to happen, sooner or later. they could never be you.

you hum. “i see”

as you shift to make yourself more comfortable, you feel the shirt he gave you to wear to bed roll up ever so slightly, revealing the bare of your belly. a bit self-conscious now that he’s next to you, you are immediately urged to cover yourself. you slide a hand under the blanket, rummaging around to get a hold of the hem, but oh...

…the back of your hand brushes against something stiff. the friction incurring a low pant from the man, your best friend, next to you.

“fuck”, satoru hisses. his hand clasps around your wrist, pushing it away, but along with the movement his knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach. “fuck”, he curses again.

“satoru”, you say his name, voice hushed and timid but there is a note of underlying curiosity he is way too familiar with.

this is exactly why he was avoiding the one bed scenario — his boners were too hard to hide at this age and this size of him.

“satoru”, you repeat. “are you hard?”

“i wish you didn’t ask the obvious”, he mumbles, embarrassed. warmth washing over his face uncontrollably, just like in the past. but there was a bigger problem now — down in his pants, and the fact he got caught.

“is it because of me?”

“no”, he clicks his tongue, his grip still tight around your wrist, keeping your hand at bay. “it’s because i didn’t jerk off tonight, you know — it’s a natural thing for us men to randomly pop a boner throughout the day”

…which was true. but it was not the case right now.

“can i play with it a little?”, you ask, sneakily twisting your wrist in an attempt to free your hand.

“oi!”, he yelps. “did you hit you head or what?”

“i am curious”, you blurt out. “just a little?”

“stop”, he warns. “it’s weird”

his resolve is hanging by a thread right now, you’re too cunning to tempt him like this. he knows things will get awfully messy between you if he lets you cross this line. but still, he can’t flat out deny you. deep down he wants you to persist, a little bit more… if you ask him one more time, maybe he’ll crumble. surely, he will.

“it’s not”, you reassure. “i won’t jerk you off, i’ll just touch it”, you explain. “please? just a little?”

well. fuck it.

“this is a bad idea”, he says, but loosens his grip around your wrist. “fine”, he mumbles. “but just a little”

you nod, pulling your hand away only to slide it down his body.

you’re not really sure why you were so happy to hear the news about his break-up, but you always felt more at ease when he belonged just to you. your best friend, and not someone else’s boyfriend. you don’t know why you were doing this right now, or why your heart was racing. maybe because it really was weird? or maybe you were just horny?

finding his cock wasn’t difficult, it sure stood out from the rest of his body.

“you really are hard”, you gasp, running your fingers across the bulge in his shorts, dragging out a throaty groan out of him.

“yeah”, he mumbles. “like i said, stop stating the obvious”

“it’s a bit wet here”, ignoring his words, you thumb the spot where his tip is, making him squirm. his body slightly jerks as you press your palm against it. cupping it inside your hand you squeezing it gently. “it’s warm too”, you keep exploring further. “it has a pulse”

satoru lets out a helpless whine. “you sound so dirty right now, it’s weird”

he’s longed for this type of intimacy with you for years. but in his head, he pictured it differently. it was him who was supposed to do things to you, not the other way around. he was supposed to be the confident one, delving into your layers, making you squirm and fall apart under his touch. not the other way around… but this was good too. too good for him to oppose it. you were his weakness, after all. you always have been. no matter how much he teased and picked on you, in the end he always let you do as you pleased. this was not an exception.

you giggle to yourself. “yeah? you like that new side of me, don’t you?”

“…maybe”

sneaking your hand through the front of his shorts and boxers, you feel the flesh of his cock directly. it was twitching, his tip slick with precum. you put the tip of your index finger on his slit and rub circles around it to smear the pre oozing out of it, getting another soft whimper out of him. the head of his cock all slippery now, urging you to rub it all over the rest of his length.

your fingers wrap around his cock as you start to move your hand up and down, slowly, smearing his own slick onto his own flesh.

he tries to swallow the moan stuck in his throat. “you said you were not going to jerk me off, but what now? you’re playing a bit too much, don’t you think?”

satoru can last long. under normal circumstances, that is. but having you — not just his hand, but you, his first ever love, his only love — touch him like that, he could barely hold back. the urge to bust has been there since the moment you put your hand on his cock.

“why? you gonna cum?”, you slip your hand lower, down to the base of his shaft — where his balls are. you caress them tenderly, incurring yet another soft groan from him, before you go back to stroking him again. with each drag you pick up the pace. the room is filled with the squelching sounds caused by your hand, at this point, confidently fisting his slick covered cock, and his heavy breathing. 

“hey”, he puts his hand on your cheek, softly pinching on it with his fingertips. an attempt to make you snap out of it, but alas — you don’t back away. “don’t regret this”, he whispers, almost beggingly. but his voice comes out too shallow for your ears to pick up on.

“are you close?”, you peek at him, watching his face with rapt fascination, grateful that you left the night lamp on.

never have you ever seen him like this. his cheeks so hot and flushed that his pale skin was lit completely red, up to his ears and his neck. beads of sweat across his forehead with strands of his hair stuck on it. mouth agape — huffing and puffing. his brows knitted, desperately. pleadingly. his mouth telling you to stop, yet his face told a different story. so did the part of him inside your palm. it made you throb, down there, and squeeze your thighs together. your own wetness spurting out from your slit, drenching the inside of your underwear”

“fuck—", he growls. “i am— c-close”, he stutters, struggling to control his breathing and the moans that roll out of his mouth.

you feel his cock twitch in your hand, differently. the pulse on it beating faster and more brashly, like it almost made his skin stretch and push against the flesh of your palm. and then, there was a delay. a few, very short seconds in which his cock stood still before violently exploding, pumping out a thick shot of cum. then some more, and more, and more — until the pouring turned into a light dribble toward the end.

“ugh”, he throatily groans, his body relaxing after oozing all the tension out. although slower now, you keep stroking him, running your fingers across his softening cock.

“oh wow”, you gasp, his cum sticky on your skin, drenching the space between your fingers. “what a mess”, you giggle.

“you’re trouble”, he sighs. “is your curiosity satisfied now?”

you nod.

“if you get curious about other things”, he pauses, scratching the back of his head, “come to me. don’t go to other men”

“i’ll think about it”, you smirk.

after that night, you stayed over for an entire week.

this little play time turned into routine, and you were no longer the only one playing.

[sttoru]

clan leader!satoru, whose smile isn’t actually a. . . smile. it serves as a gentle (yet not-so-gentle) threat to whomever it is dedicated to. a lot of the gojo clan members, as well as members from other noble clans, have heard of that infamous smile and know of its true meaning.

ever since marrying you, that smile often finds its way onto his lips. it’s not because of you, but rather because of the ones interacting with you. satoru didn’t ever expect to feel so possessive about someone he initially didn’t care for.

a marriage of convenience is all that your relationship was for. it purely existed for the sake of a connection between two famous families. your first weeks together have been awkward. any form of affection - any touches or loving words - were for the sake of his image.

however that all was fated to change: satoru eventually found himself falling for his wife.

your kind personality, your subtle smiles, the embarrassed expression on your face whenever he teased you in front of others even if it was all a faux display- an act of being all lovey-dovey. your inner and outer beauty was slowly becoming more apparent to the white-haired man.

you don’t know when it started. you can’t recall why satoru is suddenly acting affectionate even behind closed doors. usually, he’d drop the act the second you’re in your chambers. now he continues to compliment you, pepper you with chaste kisses as long as you allowed him to… even refer to you as his ‘dear’, ‘pretty girl’ or ‘sweetheart’ to your face like it’s nothing.

you shrug off your own guards and maids when they curiously inform you about their lord’s sudden change of personality, which was supposedly all because of you.

“ah, my wife,” satoru’s voice echoes above the loud chatter in the main hall. you turn your head and find your heart racing for some reason as he addresses you in that gentle tone.

he makes his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving your face, even as other important figures try to catch his attention to talk business. “i was greatly worried about you,” your husband sighs.

a gloved hand cups your face and satoru leans in, his glossy lips inches from yours. you’d think this was part of the fake arrangement, but there’s this genuine hint of adoration behind his cerulean eyes that you cannot ignore.

“i— my apologies,” you murmur softly, eyes darting around the room while you try to ignore the loud thumping of your heart. “i was simply talking to one of the guards,” you explain and nod your head to the bulky man standing next to you.

the guard respectfully bows to satoru the second you introduce him. your husband doesn’t respond for a single second, his fingers twitching lightly at his side. he can’t stand the thought of you talking to another man while he isn’t around.

is it for your own safety? or is it because he’s jealous and immediately wants to get rid of any man who dares speak to his precious wife? perhaps it’s a mixture of both.

“i see,” satoru replies. his eyes darken for a second before he catches himself. the corners of his lips curl upwards, though the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

that familiar sight makes you nervous. you’ve seen it before, when your husband would subtly threaten others for whatever reason, while hiding his true feelings behind that smile.

“well,” satoru continues, his arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you against his side and places a kiss on top of your head while glaring at the guard through his white eyelashes.

“thank you for keeping my wife safe,” the clan leader says through that tight smile, trying to keep it as ‘genuine’ looking as possible. he has a reputation and image to uphold after all.

you’re about to say something, but are cut off as satoru adds another comment. “i’m here now, so you can return to your post.”

it isn’t a suggestion. it is an order— a command. a disguised threat.

the guard immediately picks up on the subtle hint and nods without saying a word before walking back to his spot at the doors. you can hear the faint whispers from others as they also seem to recognise that change in satoru’s demeanour.

it’s not like you’re totally oblivious to what’s happening either. you look up at satoru and place a hand on his chest, trying to catch his attention. “satoru,” you whisper his name.

the white-haired man immediately snaps out of it and excitedly shoots you that boyish smile of his instead of the fake, cold one he wore on his face just a second ago.

“you called, my dear?” satoru tilts his head, bringing a hand to rest over yours on his chest. your eyes widen a bit at the way he seems to relax and look at you with that same devoted gaze.

you don’t think it’s an act anymore. the words die on your tongue and you can’t recall what you wanted to say anymore. those sparkling blue eyes and charming smile have you rendered speechless.

“…it’s nothing,” you mutter under your breath. you have no clue how you’ve managed to turn that once, cocky, overly confident and cold-hearted ruler into a total softie for you. it’s something you still need to process yourself.

satoru doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, glaring at the men who pass by, shooting them that fake, threatening smile if they looked like they desired to converse with you.

you’re his wife, and that’s that. he silently wonders when you’ll realise that he actually fell for you. perhaps you are already aware of it, but hide it from him on purpose.

whatever the case is, satoru will make sure that you know his true feelings for you. one day he will tell you those three words explicitly— if it wasn’t obvious enough through his sudden change of behavior.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, captive reader, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

“I’m back,” he calls out softly once opening the door.

You’re already there—must have heard him drive up then padded over—standing there, wordlessly awaiting his kiss. You don’t notice it yourself, though he does, how you get up on your tippy-toes and meet him halfway. You’ve been doing it for a while now. It’s really cute. And so he doesn’t say anything on it—doesn’t want to spook the habit.

“Welcome home,” you say, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you soft and snugly against his chest—smiling at how you nuzzle into it—yet another cute thing you’ve started doing lately.  

“Mh-thank you, sweetheart—feels good,” he coos into your hair, petting it smoothly while you stand there, neither of you pulling away. “What did you do today?”

You sigh and sink further into his embrace, mumbling, “Same as any other day…” almost sulkily. “Just waiting for you.”

He chuckles, “Oh, that’s not true. I saw you watching something—anything fun?”

You hum, hiding your face in his chest, mumbling into it, “Not really… just binging another franchise they decided to ruin...” You shift and look up at him, keeping your chin on his chest while grumbling, “I don’t understand why they’d reboot something just to completely disregard everything it originally stood for—and all the effects just make it look cheap.”

He can’t help but chuckle again, ruffling your hair with a fond smile. “You’re such a nerd.” He could eat you up the way you are right now, plated on a silver platter for him all so willingly. “A cute nerd, though.”

You pout, “Honestly, what’s going on out there? I barely understand anything I’m watching anymore—it’s all alien to me.”

His hug on you tightens, but you don’t flinch like you used to—even as the look in his eyes darkens along with his words. “Yeah, the world’s gone mad. You’re better off in here.”

You smile then—agreeing for once. It’s also a new and adorable habit. And then you unzip his jacket for him, helping it off his shoulders and hanging it up for him—all so naturally. Looking back at him while asking, “And how was your day?”

He smiles while beholding you—to think such a question would ever leave your lips all so domestically—it’s enough to make his chest swell. Then with an exaggerated sigh, he whines, “Absolutely horrible without you,” wrapping you up in another hug, this time from behind, nuzzling his chin into the ticklish skin of your neck—making you giggle. Arms around your front, swaying you back against him. “Every second, I was counting down ‘til when I could come home to you.”

“Is that right?” You grin at his gesture—twisting around so that you could look at him straight. Slouched as he stood, all but draping you with his taller form—eyes leveled with yours, half-mast and adoringly admiring you like his most precious thing—his sweet loving girlfriend.

You cup his face in both hands, thinking the same of him—your sweet loving boyfriend. You’re about to kiss him, but then, struck by the thought, there’s a sudden freight in your chest that follows, and you jolt back as if he’d burned you.

He stills, warm expression twisting to one of concern. “Hey—” Stepping after you with his hands laid on your forearms, giving you a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You don’t know, you think. Something’s off. Something’s not right—about his touch, about your heart, about all of it. “I’m just…” 

You think about it, eyes skittering over his face—did you always look at his face? Since when did he become so familiar? Since when did you walk around wanting to see it?

“I just…” the words feel all strange in your mouth, but there’s no denying there’s truth in them. “I missed you.”

His features blank at that, blinking at you. “Oh…” Then he softens—smiles with a chuckle, “Well, I’m home now, so…” His head slants, looking at you in askance as he gently brings a hand up to thumb your chin. “What’s with this pouty face?”

You bite your lip. There’s so much noise in your chest—so many conflicting feelings. You’ve begun missing him when he’s gone—when he leaves you. You’ve started wishing for his return, spending your day in wait. Since when did you start doing that?

It’s not right.

“I’m slipping,” your voice is shaken and weak, eyes welling up with thick water enough to have him look blurry—you shake your head and squeeze them shut—making the tears fall quickly. “I’m not supposed to miss you—” you cry. “That’s not right. I’m not—you’re not—”

Not your boyfriend.

“Hey, hey, sweetie. It’s okay,” he cuts your sob off with two warm hands placing themselves on your wettened cheeks, holding you tenderly. You layer yours on top of his, feeling it’s the only thing keeping you from spiraling into oblivion. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” he coos, smearing out your teardrops, making them dry. “It was gonna happen sooner or later, right?”

Your eyes peel and look at him—through the veil. His face is a comfort—though you feel strange seeing it as such, when you know, even though most of you has decided to forget, that he’s a psychotic stalker who’s kidnapped you and held you captive for what must be closing in on a year already.

“Don’t feel bad—it’s only natural,” he assures, pulling you into his chest again—both arms around you snugly with his chin on top of your head, gently rocking you from side to side. “Everything’s fine. So you’re losing your mind a little—we’ll just find something else for you to think about. Right? Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you? More clothes? Sweets? Something fun? Maybe you can take up another hobby?”

He loosens his hold to look down at you—his face warm with devout for you, with a wordless vow saying he’ll do everything, give you anything in return for your happiness.  

You love him, you realize then with a shudder.

You’re in love with your crazy captor—your batshit lovesick oversweet captor who shares your bed and treats you like a spoiled pet. And it’s so fucked up—so, so very fucked up, so very fucking fucked up. But it’s true—you’re in love with him. And you have been for a while.

“What do you say?” he asks in hope.

Yet, you can’t say it out loud. No, not yet—it still feels all so wrong. But, at the same time, you don’t think there’s a need for you to put it into words for him. He’s always known you better than you have yourself, after all. And that wholesome smile on his face says it all—he already knows.

“No… I just,” you start, staring into his eyes—those full-loving eyes that look at you as if you’re the only thing of value in the whole entire world. “I just want…” It’s a scary confession—both admitting it to yourself and him. “You.” 

You look down, curling your fingers into his shirt.

“I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth and nothing but the truth—albeit a somewhat sad truth. It’s your one wish—your only wish. You just want him—to stay, to hold you, to kiss you. You can’t even think of wanting anything else anymore.

“Oh, well, that’s easy, isn’t it?” he says, stroking your cheeks, fishing for your shy gaze—smiling once hooking it—pretty teary puppy eyes, lost and looking for directions. 

Don’t worry—he’s here to help.

“Where do you want me then, sweetheart?” His lips near your forehead. “Here?” He gives it a chaste kiss, earning your sniffle, then ducks down to your neck. “Or here, maybe?” Giving that a kiss as well, this time with more behind it, sucking the skin with a soft bite. 

“Or maybe…” His voice is low, and it makes your skin buzz with a desire just as dark—shivering with it as his lips ghost yours. “Here?”

You hang in his hold, leaning after it.

But he just smiles, “Tell me, sweetheart—where do you want me?”

Your lip wobbles, brows cinched as your balled fists needily pull him close—yearning for it.

“Everywhere.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist