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levanterhaze · 3 days ago

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GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader this one is just pure angst and drama, no smut, just teasing each other like two idiots.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[ 5.7k words ]♡― i had to continue this fic in a 2nd part, i felt necessary. maybe i'll continue it in a few more chapters (PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME) and thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has commented and appreciated this piece. it means a lot to a person who is non-native english wrt. without further ado, have a good read, loves!

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one]

you’re so indecisive of what I’m saying tryna catch the beat, make up your heart don't know if you're happy or complaining don't want for us to end, where do I start?

The pounding in your head was a testament to last night’s choices. Aspirin was non-negotiable. You could hear Eunji and Sohee's voices from the living room and were surprised that both of them were already awake after their all-nighter.

After leaving the room with Bangchan—because, of course, that happened—you ducked into the bathroom, shot off a text about vomiting and existential regret, and decided to make a graceful exit. Well, as graceful as one could manage after wild sex with the person you’d sworn to hate forever. Pride was nowhere in the equation, but who cared?

As soon as your eyes saw daylight, Eunji and Sohee looked at you judgmentally. You froze in your tracks, still wearing pink Hello Kitty jammies like a monument to your shame. Their judgment was immediate, sharp as a blade. Your heart sped up.

“You’re alive,” Sohee deadpanned, taking a bite of a cinnamon roll. “And looking like shit.”

“Appreciate it,” you shot back, throwing yourself into a chair. “Really warms the soul.”

Eunji’s smoothie slurp was unnecessarily loud, drilling straight into your skull. “We thought about waking you for breakfast but figured you’d need the recovery time.”

You dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "That's okay. Wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.”

"We can have lunch together, if you like. I really need a detox after last night." Sohee curled her lips into a grimace and you almost smiled. Detox advice from Sohee was peak irony.

But then Eunji, ever the chaos-bringer, dropped the bomb. “Oh my God, you guys, I heard the craziest thing last night! Jiwoon—my lit classmate—said he walked in on someone having super loud sex at the party. Guess who it was? Bangchan!”

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

Silence remained and Sohee raised her eyebrows at Eunji.

“Apparently, the guy is a structural hazard,” Sohee chimed in, amused. “Minho said he once broke a floorboard. Who even does that?” Your red-haired friend says giggling.

Eunji giggled. “The girl’s lucky. If Bangchan wrecked me, I’d consider it an honor.”

You summoned your most convincing disdain, rolling your eyes with the energy of someone deeply unimpressed. “Honestly, can we not make him sound like some sort of deity?”

But guilt clung to you like a second skin, mingling with vivid flashes of last night—the furniture banging against the wall, Bangchan’s muscles taut as he tried to steady it. The memory burned, searing and humiliating, until Eunji’s voice yanked you back to reality.

The memory faded like mist when Eunji said it again. "Anyway, the girl’s lucky. I wish I was knocked down by Bangchan."

Lucky. That’s what they’d call you if they knew. Lucky—and a traitor to everything you’d loudly professed about hating him. They didn’t know it was you, and you intended to keep it that way.

From the tone of the chat, Jiwoon didn't see who was in the room with Bangchan, which means he didn't know you were the girl. Trying to ignore the talking and the sweat growing on your hands, you got up and declared that you were going to take a shower and maybe run some laps around the athletics track, because you really needed some fresh air.

The dorm felt claustrophobic. Eunji and Sohee were your best friends and you felt awful for not telling them the truth.

These were your best friends, but the truth felt like a grenade you couldn’t risk dropping. For months, you’d built your personality around despising Bangchan, and now? One night had unraveled it all.

Worst of all? You couldn’t stop replaying every second of it—and how much you’d loved it.

Sex had always been an exercise in mediocrity. Your exes? Predictably average, hitting the bare minimum on their way to their own finish line. As for finding the clitoris? Let’s just say they navigated like someone using a map upside down—an unsurprising disappointment every single time.

Now, though, Bangchan was something else entirely. A campus legend with a reputation as vast as it was unshakable. Everyone knew about his conquests—more women than you had fingers to count. Every rumor you’d rolled your eyes at turned out to be painfully, thrillingly true. He was better than anything you could have imagined.

Even after a long shower, his touch lingered, like phantom fingerprints etched into your skin. You could still feel him, every moment replaying in a maddening loop. No one had ever made you come twice in one night. No one. That fact alone made him unforgettable—and insufferably smug, no doubt.

Pulling on comfortable clothes, you grabbed a bag, stuffed in some essentials, and checked your phone. The group chat was overflowing with photos and messages from last night’s chaos, but you scrolled past all of it. There was only one person you needed right now.

You: Up for a morning run?

The reply came in under two minutes.

Hyunjin: It’s two in the afternoon. You: Morning for me. Hyunjin: Fine. Be there in five.

You tossed your phone into your bag and took a deep breath. A run was exactly what you needed—to burn off this restless energy and, hopefully, forget how guilty you felt.

You found Hyunjin on the running track near the outdoor field, surrounded by lush greenery and bursts of flowers the campus meticulously maintained. He looked effortlessly good, of course—baggy clothes hanging just right, dark hair falling over his face like it had been styled by the gods.

You started running side by side, silence settling between you. It was comfortable but heavy, like a bubble that needed popping. The kiss was the unspoken elephant on the track, but Hyunjin, ever observant, didn’t push. Not yet.

The day was crisp, the kind of weather that made you feel invincible. You poured your focus into your pace, and before you knew it, you’d pulled ahead. “Okay, okay—hold up,” Hyunjin called, his voice carrying just enough humor to make you smirk.

You stopped a few strides ahead, spinning on your heel to face him. He sauntered toward you, not even winded, like running was merely a mild inconvenience.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his tone playful but probing.

“There’s nothing to tell,” you countered, already feeling your resolve falter.

“Uh-huh.” He stopped in front of you, his gaze narrowing. “Then why, exactly, did you ask me to kiss you last night?”

Well. There it was. No escaping now.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool as you grabbed the water bottle from your bag. “I was... needy, I guess.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, crossing his arms like he wasn’t buying it. “Needy, huh?”

“Look,” you said, exhaling sharply, “I’m sorry if it made things weird. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for that to get messed up.”

“Relax,” he said, grinning as he ran a hand through his hair. “A kiss isn’t going to scare me off. You’re stuck with me.”

His easy laugh melted some of your tension, but before you could respond, he clapped his hands together with mock seriousness. “Tell you what—first one to the other side of campus owes the winner a banana milk.”

The sudden challenge caught you off guard, and you raised a brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, already turning on his heel to start jogging backward. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you bolted after him. “You’re so on.”

You lost the run, but of course, Hyunjin still paid for the drink. That summed him up as a friend.

After he dashed off to rehearse with Felix—because apparently, everyone else was rehearsing but you—a thought hit you like a lightbulb flickering to life. Rumors? Easy to spread. But if you wanted to get ahead of them, you had to go straight to the source.

With a mission in mind, you swaggered toward the gym where the basketball team was practicing. It wasn’t exactly classified info—every girl on campus could probably tell you when and where their training sessions were. You zipped your jacket up to your chin like it was some sort of emotional armor, grabbed your water bottle for moral support, and marched down the corridors. The door to the gym was already cracked open, and as you pushed it, everything seemed to slow down in the most dramatic way.

The guys were running drills, their shoes squeaking on the court like a broken record. The noise grated on your nerves, but you weren’t here for the sound; you were here for the spectacle. The stands were dotted with girls, some wrapped up in their player-boyfriend fantasies, while others... Well, who knows what they were thinking. You didn’t care. You had your eyes on the real prize today.

There he was, standing out like a sore thumb. His black and white uniform somehow looked too good on him. Focus, girl. You hid behind the staircase, crouched like a sneaky little spy, waiting for the game to wrap up.

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually, the whistle blew. You adjusted your posture, trying to act casual, though you were definitely still paying attention to how the sweat trickled down Bangchan's forehead. It brought you war flashbacks. When the players scattered to grab towels and water, you took your cue to appear from behind the bleachers, giving a quick, awkward wave before ducking back again.

Bangchan's eyes scanned the area, and when they landed on you, his brows shot up in surprise. In the meantime, he did the inevitable: he took off his shirt and used it to get dry. Great. Just great.

"Did you come to watch?" He smirked, that cocky grin of his. "Didn't know you were into basketball."

You rolled your eyes. His ability to flirt in every situation was almost impressive.

"Ha-ha. No." You sucked in a breath, desperately trying to obey your brain's commands. Don't look down. Don’t you dare look down. "Actually, I came to ask for a favor."

He leaned against the wall, eyebrow quirked, looking amused. "Okay...?"

“Right. I want what happened yesterday to stay a secret.”

Bangchan's eyebrow arched higher, an expression of entertained disbelief crossing his face. He crossed his arms, flexing those muscles in a way that made the mission of not looking at them impossible.

“'You think I'm going around saying we fucked?"

You roll your eyes, frustration building up, and clench your hand into a fist. Sure, say it louder, let the world know.

“Isn't that exactly what you do? Brag about your sexual life?”

The boy nodded, puffing out his chest, he shot back. "Ever heard me brag about it?"

“I don't need to hear it from you. The campus does it for you.” It was infuriating how this worked out. Everyone thought Bangchan was the type of guy, praising his victories and glorifying him every time he got between some girl's pants.

Meanwhile, girls were severely censured for even kissing a guy at a party.

"Right. So you're just going off what people say about me?" His tone was challenging, like he couldn’t care less.

In a long drawn-out sigh, you fidgeted with your hands, intending to put the matter to one side. "Can you just keep this between us? I don't want anyone to know."

"Whatever, it's no big deal," he replied nonchalantly, shrugging. "If it's that important to you."

The words stung more than they should have. It wasn’t just the lack of care, it was the way he made it sound like it didn’t matter. No big deal. It hurt your pride, even if you didn’t mean it to. But that was Bangchan, wasn’t it? Haughty and self-righteous. Yeah, he was great in bed, but his attitude? Utterly shitty.

“Thanks.” You said it briefly, biting down your pride and leaving the scene as fast as you could. Speaking to him seemed like a fool's errand, but you couldn't risk it.

Behind you, Bangchan pursed his lips into a thin line, watching you go. To him, you were hopeless—always on guard, never letting your walls down. He knew he was right, even if it was a thin line. Sure, it was fun to rile you up, but it was maddening that you hated him for things he hadn’t even done.

Getting you to change your mind, though? That was the challenge. But if that’s what it took, he was more than willing to play the long game.

Early next week. Only Tuesday, and auditions loomed just a day away. You’d been agonizing over the perfect solo—one that wouldn’t just get you a role but the role. Monday was a blur of brainstorming with Hyunjin and Seungmin, your trusted theater comrades. Between swapping notes, debating song choices, and plenty of eye rolls, you managed to help each other refine your audition pieces. It was productive. Chaotic, but productive.

Your last hour of the day belonged to the theater, and it was sacred. The stage wasn’t just a place; it was a state of mind. The second the music hit, the world faded. Bills, homework, exes who ghosted you—it all melted away. Up there, you weren’t just alive; you were electric. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was instinct.

Your mom used to say you were born for the stage. She loved telling the story of how, as a kid, you’d belt out The Little Mermaid soundtrack so often the neighbors probably debated filing a noise complaint. Singing “Part of Your World” at the top of your lungs? A daily ritual. But the first time you sang for real—no plastic microphone, no stuffed animal audience—it clicked.

This was more than a passion. It was home.

Since high school, your hunger for the stage—and the spotlight—was insatiable. If there was a club, you wanted in. University was no different. People noticed you, not just for your knack for hitting sharp, glass-shattering high notes, but for your versatility. You could slip from sweet soprano to soulful belter faster than a drama major running late to class. On stage, you were magnetic.

Everyone gathered on stage, and Mrs. Baek appeared a few moments later with her round glasses and wavy hair around her face. Her figure was solid and powerful, as was her voice and knowledge.

But today, something was off. The crease on her forehead gave her away before she said a word. It was like a ripple of unease spread across the stage, and you didn’t miss a beat. You were already bracing for the bad news.

Then, a slim figure in a long skirt and boots strode into the center of the circle, sighing like she’d just carried the weight of the world—and maybe she had. “Okay, kids. Listen up.” Every pair of eyes locked onto her as if she were delivering the prophecy of doom. “We’re postponing the auditions. Indefinitely.”

Her announcement hit like a gut punch, and the stage erupted into chaos. Whispers turned to complaints, and complaints turned to full-blown outrage. Seungmin cast a skeptical glance at Mrs. Baek, then at you and Hyunjin, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

What the hell was going on?

“All right, settle down,” Mrs. Baek said, slipping her glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose with that practiced mix of authority and exhaustion only she could pull off. “Jun-ho, our sound engineer, has officially dropped out of college. And to make matters worse, the university has decided to cut funding for the theater department in favor of... sports.”

“You're shitting me.” Nahee’s voice sliced through the commotion like a whip. She quickly caught herself, mumbling, “Sorry... but seriously—”

“That’s so unfair!” another voice chimed in from the back, frustration rippling through the group like a shockwave. “Basketball and soccer aren’t the only things this university has going for it.”

“I get it, kids. Believe me, I tried.” Mrs. Baek’s tone softened, but her words were anything but comforting. “I went to the administration, pleaded our case... But unless we can find enough volunteers and funding, I’m afraid auditions are canceled. Indefinitely.”

It felt like a cruel joke. The theater had always been your sanctuary, the one place where you could shed your armor and just be. And now? It was slipping through your fingers.

When Mrs. Baek dismissed the group, some students stormed out in anger, others lingered, trying to process what had just happened. For you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, the next logical step was the canteen. Food couldn’t fix this, but it was something.

“This is absurd. Now we're all supposed to close our eyes and applaud this nonsense?” Seungmin boomed as the three of you walked to the canteen. It was packed every day, regardless of the time of the day.

At a table outside, you spotted Sohee and Minho. Eunji, Changbin, Felix and Bangchan.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse...

“Tell me about it, I'm so pissed off!” Everyone looked at you, hearing loud and clear about your discontent. All three of you pulled up a chair and you sat down facing Changbin.

“Someone's jumpy.” Sohee leaned across the table. “What's wrong? You three look like shit.”

“It turns out the university cut the theater’s funding in favor of sports.” Your voice was sharp, and your glare shot directly at Bangchan, who was busy texting like the world wasn’t crumbling around him. He looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion, as if you’d just accused him of single-handedly ruining the arts.

You looked away, rage bubbling in your veins.

“That sucks.” Felix shot back with a supportive smile. “I know how important the theater is to you guys.”

“Everyone’s been working so hard,” Seungmin muttered, sinking into his chair like the weight of the news had finally crushed him. “It’s just... unfair.”

A heavy silence settled over the table, broken only by the sound of Bangchan’s nails tapping on his phone screen. You glanced his way, the sight of him completely disengaged making your blood boil.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Eunji twisted her lips, hopeful.

“Car wash?” Changbin suggested with a mischievous grin. “Classic fundraiser, right?”

“Sure,” you shot back, deadpan, “let’s exploit women for the sake of art.” Your glare could’ve leveled him then and there. Changbin leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Okay, fine. What about food?” Sohee jumped in, glancing at Minho for support. “Muffins, cupcakes, something simple. People love that stuff.”

Hyunjin's face lights up like a light bulb. “Felix makes brownies. Amazing brownies.”

Felix smirked, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don’t wanna brag, but they’re basically legendary.”

“Alright, then.” Changbin grinned, pointing a finger gun between Felix and you. “You two make the brownies. And we,” he motioned to himself and Bangchan, “sell them.”

You and Bangchan exchange glances for a millisecond.

“I’ve got the perfect idea,” he says, a wicked smile slipping from his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, laughing. “What? Are you going to sell brownies naked around campus?”

The grin widened, and that’s when you knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

Felix had assured you he could handle everything, but your stubbornness wouldn’t let you sit this one out. If it was for the theater, you were all in. He handed over his famous brownie recipe like it was a national secret.

So, on Thursday, you got hands-on. Literally.

Eunji had come through with the shopping, and soon your dorm looked like a war zone—chocolate smudges on the counters, flour dusting the floor, and batter splattered in places you couldn’t quite explain. You only had a cramped space and a big dream of pulling this off.

You were just pouring the batter into a pan when a sharp knock at the door startled you. Wiping your hands on your skirt, you swung it open, expecting maybe Eunji or Hyunjin. Instead, there stood Bangchan, leaning casually against the door frame like he had nowhere else to be.

“Uh… hello?” You blinked, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Bangchan stood back for a second, observing how exceptionally good you looked.

“So… newsflash,” he started, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You might wanna double that recipe.”

Confusion flashed across your eyes. “What do you mean?”

He straightened up, clearly enjoying your puzzled reaction. “I may have the entire basketball team to help out with the sale.”

Your jaw dropped as his words sank in. “You what?”

His grin widened at your disbelief. “You heard me. More hands, more sales. I figured we could use the hype.”

It was insane. But it was also brilliant. A rush of excitement shot through you, lighting up your face. “That’s… that’s fantastic!” you blurted, beaming before instinctively biting your lip to rein in your enthusiasm.

Bangchan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. “Thought you’d like that.”

“Oh, shit. I'll tell Felix, we're going to need an extra oven.” You walked over to the coffee table, where your phone was.

Before you could dial, Bangchan’s voice cut through your focus. “You shouldn’t go there.” He was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression surprisingly earnest. “It’s a mess. Like, biohazard-level chaos.” You lose heart, trying to think of another alternative. “You can use my dorm. If you want.” He quickly adds the last sentence.

Your stomach dropped at the suggestion. The idea of stepping into Bangchan’s dorm felt like walking into enemy territory. Risky. Dangerous. Not worth the potential fallout. “It’s fine,” you said, waving him off. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

But Bangchan leaned against the doorframe, his smirk resurfacing. “You sure? There are a lot of brownies to bake, and I don’t think you’ve got all night.”

As much as you hated to admit it, he wasn’t wrong. Time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and with the entire basketball team now involved, efficiency was critical. “Fine,” you muttered, hating the way the word tasted in your mouth. “But only if you help.”

“You don't have to ask twice.”

It turned out Bangchan’s “help” involved more than just offering his kitchen. He insisted on carrying every utensil, baking sheet, and ingredient across campus himself, as though showing off how capable he was. By the time you arrived at his so-called dorm, you’d pieced together another puzzle about him.

Rich, but not obnoxiously so. Still, his “dorm” was more like a chic little apartment, complete with a full kitchen, two bedrooms, and sleek decor that screamed privilege. The space was annoyingly Bangchan—polished, put together, and just distant enough to be intriguing.

“Cool place.” You muttered after he closed the door behind you. Scanning the room and trying not to sound impressed.

“Thanks.” he gave you a smile. “So, this is the kitchen.” He motioned to a modern setup that looked like it belonged in a Food Network show. Top class stuff. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” you replied, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Not just for the space but… you know, for helping.”

It was obvious that he was making this effort because the theater was important to his friends Seungmin and Hyunjin. Why else would he do all this? Still, you appreciated it.

His lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the retort bubbling at your tongue. Play nice. He’s helping.

“Relax,” he added, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just kidding. There’s booze in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, sidestepping the offer.

“I’ve gotta sort something out with the coach,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll be back in 20. Think you’ll survive here alone?”

Honestly, being in his apartment without him sounded like the best possible scenario. You gave a small nod. “Yeah, no worries.”

With that, he left, and the door clicked shut behind him. You exhaled, a long breath that carried the weight of the past few days. Now you were in enemy territory, surrounded by his world, and somehow, that felt far more personal than it should.

How had this become your life? Baking brownies in Bangchan’s kitchen? It was almost as absurd as sleeping with him—a mistake you’d promised yourself you’d never make. But here you were, crossing one forbidden line after another.

You weren’t exactly a disaster in the kitchen, but you weren’t a pro either. Somehow, though, in thirty minutes flat, four trays of brownies were baking away in Bangchan’s fancy oven. The rest of the kitchen, however, looked like a war zone. Eggshells piled in the sink. Flour scattered across the floor. Chocolate batter smeared on your shirt. Your skirt? A masterpiece of handprints from raw dough. But hey, it was all for the sake of art—and funding.

While you whisked and poured, you couldn’t resist turning on your favorite song, What Is This Feeling from Wicked. Singing along word for word, you hit every high note with a grin. That song had landed you the role of Glinda in high school, and the nostalgia hit you square in the chest. Those were good times. Simpler times.

The chorus was still ringing in your ears as you crouched to scrub a stubborn chocolate stain on the floor. That’s when the door swung open, and Bangchan walked in, freezing mid-step as he surveyed the chaos.

“Holy shit. Are you all right?” he asked, his tone somewhere between amusement and genuine concern.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest as you scrambled to turn off the music. In your rush, your phone slipped from your flour-dusted hands and landed on the counter with a soft thud. You straightened, cheeks flushing. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing your hands on your already-ruined skirt. “Sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, I promise.”

He looked around, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. His eyes flicked from the chaotic kitchen to you, taking in the state of your clothes. “You’ve got something… there,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the chocolate smear on your shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll head back to the dorm and clean this up.”

Bangchan tilted his head, clearly unimpressed with your plan. “I can lend you a shirt. Might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” you said, waving him off. “But thanks.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind his neck and yanked off the black shirt he was wearing, leaving him in nothing but his jeans and a devilish grin. “Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to you like it was the most casual thing in the world.

You blinked, completely caught off guard. “You know you could’ve just grabbed another shirt, right? Like, one you’re not currently wearing?”

He leaned in slightly, the grin widening in a way that made your stomach flip. “And where’s the fun in that?”

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at him, equal parts annoyed and flustered. His shirt hung in the air between you, a silent dare. Finally, you snatched it from his hand, muttering, “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, unbothered, and strolled over to the counter like he hadn’t just walked into the kitchen half-dressed.

After a few minutes, you walked back into the kitchen, now wearing Bangchan’s shirt. It hung a little loose on you, the soft fabric brushing against your skin and carrying a mix of fresh laundry and whatever cologne he used. Not that you noticed. Much.

Bangchan was at the sink, scrubbing a mixing bowl. His back was to you at first, but when he turned around, his gaze lingered a second too long before he coughed and looked back down. “Did you know,” he started, shaking his head with a teasing grin, “that you’re officially the world’s clumsiest cook? There’s brownie batter... under the sink.”

You glanced at the cabinet beneath the counter, then back at him. “Hey, I said I’d clean up,” you defended, marching into the kitchen with your head held high. “And for the record, I never claimed to be a good cook. I’m just trying to help.”

Bangchan barked out a laugh, drying his hands on a towel. “Help? No fucking way. You’re a disaster, love.”

You froze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?” You crossed your arms, the oversized sleeves of his shirt only slightly undermining your indignation. “I didn’t see you stepping up to bake anything.. Let’s see you handle a whisk without breaking something.”

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Trust me, I’d still be better than whatever chaos you’ve got going on here.”

Your lips quirked into a slow smirk, and you reached for the bag of flour on the counter. “Oh yeah? Well, let’s see you handle this.” Before he could react, you scooped a handful of flour and tossed it right at him, the fine powder exploding across his chest like a smoke bomb.

Bangchan froze for a second, blinking down at the mess. Then, his lips curved into a wicked grin that should have been your warning. “Oh, it’s on now.”

With your hands on your lip, you realized that you had fucked up. “I'm sorry, I...”

Too late. In the blink of an eye, Bangchan scooped up the sugar and poured it all over your hair. You stared, half-shocked, half-impressed by his audacity. You parted your lips to fire back, but before a word could escape, the sound of his laughter erupted from deep in his chest.

“Really? Is this how it’s gonna go?” You grabbed the cocoa powder with a grin. Oh, he wanted a war? You were so ready. “Bring it on,” you shot back, face lighting up with mischief.

You were almost halfway to smearing him with chocolate when his hand shot out and stopped yours midair. The cocoa slipped through your fingers, and just like that, your plan hit the ground.

Then, you collided—chest to chest. Bangchan wasn’t laughing anymore, and you could feel the shift in the air, the heat between you two now undeniable. His lips curled into that damn smirk, the one that told you everything. Your heart was racing, but the thought of pulling away didn’t even cross your mind. The only question now was who was going to make the first move.

A silent battle passed between you two. His gaze locked onto yours, sensing the shift in your expression—less defiant, more... willing. And just like that, the tension morphed into something else, something undeniable.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, your lips brushing his. Bangchan’s breath hitched, a soft grunt escaping him at the sudden contact. Your hands, still coated with the remnants of your baking disaster, slid over his broad shoulders. You were a mess, sugar and flour everywhere, but somehow, it made everything feel a little more real. And Bangchan? He didn’t seem to mind one bit.

All he seemed to care about was having your lips on his. And fuck, you could feel how much he wanted it.

Bangchan grabbed your ass possessively, squeezing it and making a raspy moan escape your lips. You pushed him against the wall, without detaching your lips, savoring how the softness of his lips felt like cotton candy.

When you finally broke away, your chests heaving, your fingers still pressed into his skin, you met his gaze. His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, and you could feel the pull between you intensify again, magnetic.

“I should probably clean up this mess.” your voice broke the tension, but the realization hit harder than it should’ve. Bangchan was clearly fed up with your habit of diving in and then ghosting the consequences.

“Don’t you dare.” his voice was low, the words like a command you weren’t about to ignore. His eyes locked with yours—intense. “You want this.” his lips brushed against yours, a tease that made your heart leap, while his words hung heavy in the air. “I know you do.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but him.

“Bangchan.” You whispered, barely able to breathe. The heat from his hardness spread like wildfire, and your body seemed to betray you. “We can’t.” you licked your lips—stupid, because he was already there, sealing your protest with a sloppy kiss, stealing that last ounce of restraint.

You were losing it. Why did he have to be so... goddamn good at this?

“Oh yeah?” he pulled away, just enough to make you regret the distance. “Tell me one good reason. Just one.”

You snorted, doing everything you could to hold it together, but the pull between you was undeniable. “Please.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching like he wanted to argue, but instead he closed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, walking away, but the air between you two still crackled.

The rest of the kitchen cleanup was like some strange form of punishment. You moved in sync, two people acting like they hadn’t just burned down every ounce of decorum in the room. The silence was deafening, the kind of awkward that made you wish you could pull the floor open and swallow you whole. But instead, you just scrubbed harder, hoping it’d drown out the thundering thoughts in your head.

He pulled away, no jokes, no teasing—just silence. It was like a switch had flipped, and the tension that had once sparked between you now lay dormant, suffocating. You didn't know if you hated the quiet or if you hated yourself more for letting things go as far as they had.

When everything was finally done, he still helped you carry your things to the dorm, his touch lingering just a little too long as he adjusted the bag over your shoulder. You were too busy battling the whirlwind of your own thoughts, replaying every moment, every look, and cursing both him and yourself for what you’d just crossed into.

You hated how easy it had been. How natural. And you hated even more that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to regret it—at least, not yet.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik

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calypso-rt · 2 days ago

Text

HONEYMOON

with Rafe Cameron

-> Rafe x F!Reader

📍 Amalfi Coast, Italy 🇮🇹

You knew honeymooning with Rafe Cameron would be an experience.

But as you step onto the sun drenched terrace of your private villa overlooking the endless stretch of the Mediterranean, waves crashing gently against the cliffs below, you realize nothing could have prepared you for this.

It’s breathtaking. The kind of view that belongs in a postcard, all golden light and soft ocean breeze, the scent of lemon trees lingering in the air.

And then there’s Rafe, grinning like he planned this entire thing himself (he didn’t), hands in his pockets, watching you expectantly.

“Well?” he prompts, shifting closer, voice dipping into something softer. “Worth marrying me for?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Jury’s still out.”

Rafe hums, unconvinced. “Mm. Guess I’ll have to spend the next week proving you made the right choice.”

Before you can fire back, his arms loop around your waist, pulling you into him with that effortless ease, the kind that still makes your breath catch, even after everything. His lips find your temple, lingering just long enough to send warmth spreading through your chest.

And suddenly, you don’t care about the luggage still sitting by the door. Or the very long flight it took to get here.

Because Rafe is here. And he’s yours.

And if the next week looks anything like this?

You’re definitely in trouble.

☀️ Lazy Tanning on the Coast

The afternoon sun is warm against your skin, a lazy breeze rolling in from the water as you stretch out on the lounge chair. The sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below is almost hypnotic, so much so that you don’t even notice Rafe shifting closer until you feel his fingers graze your wrist. “You’re not even trying to tan,” he murmurs, lips curving into a smirk. You peek at him over your sunglasses. “Maybe because I don’t need to turn into a lobster like you.” Rafe scoffs, dramatically offended. “Lobster? Baby, I’m gonna be golden.” “You’re gonna be burnt." He ignores that, reaching over to steal your drink without asking, sipping lazily before setting it back down, closer to his side of the table. You huff, but before you can snatch it back, he shifts onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he studies you. “What?” you ask, suspicious. His expression softens, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “You just look good. Happy.” The words settle warm in your chest, and for once, you don’t have a teasing remark ready. Instead, you reach out, threading your fingers through his where they rest between you. “I am,” you admit. And with him under the golden Italian sun, you really are.

🏍 Him absolutely renting a Vespa just to “impress you”

“You’re going to kill us.” Rafe scoffs, revving the Vespa like it’s a full blown motorcycle. “Baby, have a little faith.” You tighten your grip around his waist, already regretting this. “Last time you drove something this small, you ran over Topper’s foot.” “Okay, first of all, that was his fault for standing too close. Second, this is different. I’ve got it under control.” Famous last words. The Vespa wobbles as he takes off, and you let out an actual scream, clinging to him for dear life. Rafe just laughs, one hand way too casually gripping the handlebar. “Relax,” he says over the wind, sounding downright smug. “You’re in good hands.” You peek over his shoulder, past the stunning coastline, the rows of pastel-colored buildings, the winding cobblestone streets you’re probably about to crash into, and sigh. “Just try not to get us banned from Italy, okay?” Rafe chuckles, his free hand reaching down to squeeze yours where it rests against his stomach. “No promises, Mrs. Cameron.” And despite yourself, despite the very real possibility of disaster, you can’t help but smile.

🍝 Romantic candelit dinners where you can't keep your eyes off of him

The restaurant is tucked into the cliffs, candlelight flickering against white linen tablecloths, the sound of waves crashing below blending seamlessly with the soft hum of conversation. It’s the kind of place straight out of a dream: warm, intimate, effortlessly romantic. And yet, the only thing you can focus on is Rafe. He sits across from you, sleeves rolled up, tanned skin golden in the glow of the candles. There’s a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you, fingers idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. “You’re staring,” he murmurs. You roll your eyes, spearing a piece of pasta with your fork. “You’re imagining things.” Rafe leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Mmm. Don’t think so.” His voice dips, teasing but quiet, like it’s meant just for you. “Starting to think you like me, sweetheart.” You hum, pretending to consider. “Well, I did marry you. So, I guess you’re not totally awful.” His smirk deepens, but instead of responding, he reaches across the table, fingers grazing your wrist before curling around your hand completely. The warmth of his touch sends a flutter through your chest, one you pretend not to feel as he rubs slow, lazy circles against your skin. For once, there’s no bickering. No teasing. Just him. Just this. And as the night stretches on, wine glasses emptied, dessert shared, his foot nudging yours under the table, you realize something for the millionth time. You don’t just like Rafe Cameron. You love him.

🌊 A boat ride that ends with both of you in the water.

The sun is high, the water impossibly blue as the boat drifts lazily along the coast. It’s quiet except for the occasional hum of the engine and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the hull. Rafe stands at the bow, arms outstretched like he owns the ocean, wind ruffling his sun-bleached hair. “See? Told you renting a boat was a genius idea.” You lean back against the railing, sipping your drink. “Mmm. I’ll be impressed when you actually do something.” He turns, raising a brow. “Is that a challenge?” You smirk. “More like a fact.” And then, before you can react, Rafe strides toward you, that dangerous glint in his eye as he sets your drink to the side. “Rafe—” Too late. His arms wrap around you, warm and solid, and in one swift motion, he dives off the side, taking you with him. The water is a shock, cool against your sun-kissed skin, bubbles rushing around you as you resurface with a gasp. “Rafe!” you splutter, shoving wet hair from your face. He’s already floating beside you, grinning so smugly you could throttle him. “You said I should do something.” “You’re impossible!” You flick water at him, but he just laughs, swimming closer. Then, his hands find your waist beneath the waves, tugging you against him effortlessly. His voice drops, lower, softer. “But you love me anyway.” You roll your eyes, but your arms loop around his neck, your legs tangling with his in the water. “Unfortunately.” He grins before closing the space between you, his lips warm despite the cool water, the sea carrying you both in lazy circles. And maybe his boat idea was kind of genius.

🛏 Mornings spent tangled in crisp white sheets, sunlight spilling through open windows, his lazy grin the first thing you see.

Morning comes slow, golden light spilling through the open windows, the soft rustle of the ocean breeze slipping through sheer white curtains. The sheets are a tangled mess, warm, wrinkled, wrapped around your legs and twisted somewhere between you and Rafe. You blink sleepily, stretching against the pillows, only to be met with the sight of him. Rafe lies beside you, arm thrown lazily over your waist, his bare chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His hair is a mess, sun-kissed strands falling over his forehead, and when he stirs, just barely, his lips curve into a lazy, lopsided grin. “Morning, Mrs. Cameron,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. Your heart does that stupid fluttering thing, but you roll your eyes anyway, fingers tracing absentmindedly along his jaw. “You just like saying that.” He hums, eyes still half-closed as he tugs you closer, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your bare shoulder. “Obviously.” You sigh, letting yourself melt into him, into the warmth of his skin, the steady press of his heartbeat against yours. Neither of you rush to move. There’s nowhere to be, nothing to do but exist here in this perfect little pocket of time where the world is quiet and love feels as easy as breathing. And as Rafe buries his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about five more minutes, you know, without a doubt, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

A/N: Inspo struck guys I'm on a roll

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction

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bunny-jpeg · 3 days ago

Text

wife

mark webber

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/47), wife kink, height difference, breeding kink, wife!reader, summertime fic, verbal worship

a/n: do you have baby fever? you do now! *flashbangs*

kimi raikkonen ver. - sebastian vettel ver. - jenson button ver.

while summer wasn't your favourite season you were happy at the very least that there had been a fair bit of sun. your little pet project had become helping your husband out in the garden behind the house you lived in. you had been mostly taking online summer courses for your degree prior to this year, but now that your degree was finally done you were a little more helpful outside. plus, you were never going to say no to be away from your desk.

you suggested to mark, that you start looking for a 'big girl job' and your loving, older husband simply patted you on the head and said, "take the summer off, you deserve a break!"

but you had a different idea of what break meant. you thought it was going to be a few months until the weather cooled down while mark through the break would end once your first child started primary school.

mark's hand grazed your lower back as he leaned in towards you while you were bent over giving your attention to the tomato plant. his touch was comforting, yet firm. he remarked with humor, "you take care of them so well. you're like their mother." and then laughed.

"i wouldn't say that, honey." you replied as you were upright once more. your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed up against you.

something had been filling his mind lately. he was almost in his fifties! he thought it was about time that you two did a little family planning. the world of racing would like another webber and he thought you were the perfect woman to have them.

didn't help that he had been having a reoccurring dream. mrs. webber, happily greeting him with his son at your hip and pregnant with your second child, a daughter. kid looked just like him and you always had dinner ready for your little sprouting family. it itched a part of his brain that mark didn't think was possible. he wanted to see you pregnant with his child.

he placed a hand on your middle. it was already a little softer, but the idea of you with his child made a fire light in him. he held on and kissed your cheek with a gentle affection.

"let's go inside for a bit. too much sun isn't good for you." he said softly, even though the sun was now hidden behind some fluffy white clouds. mark loved how much smaller you felt compared to him. he was close to six foot two so he had to look down at you. especially when you were tucked away at his side.

softer, gentler, younger. near perfect to be the mother to his children. because you weren't going to stop at one, mark might be getting up there in age. but he could still keep up and keep you full.

he loved looking at you. your skin warmed by the sun. you had an old baseball cap of his on that you wore while you gardened, but mark had it off of you while he was shepherding you into the bedroom.

his wide hands on your hips as he got you into the room. he made his size difference known and it turned you on. it was quite the feeling that leapt in your chest. him being domineering as his hands then trailed up under your shirt.

he playfully scolded you, "you need to wear some sunscreen. i don't want to anything about my wife getting a sunburn." then kissed your cheek before the t-shirt was pushed up to just under your breasts. exposing your middle to him.

you soon stood there in your shorts, underwear and socks. your dirty shoes left by the door and your t-shirt thrown to the floor to be washed later. mark licked his lips and cupped your breasts in your bra with fondness. gonna need a bigger size in a few months. he exhaled before he leaned in for a deep kiss. he continued to undress you slowly. fuck, you looked beautiful. pretty breasts, soft curves, all belonged to mark webber. the thought made him hard.

he kissed you before he got his shirt off and kissed you again before he full got undressed. you ended up on the bed and he continued to kiss you deeply.his large hands roamed your beautiful body.

you moaned under his kisses and held onto his shoulders. your short nails dug into the skin for a moment as his kisses grew in passion. with a want in his gut for you. he groaned against in the kiss as his cock throbbed while pressed against your middle.

"fuck honey, i knew i had to have you all to myself. look at you." he said between heavy breaths. he got you on your back, further up the bed and said, "how did i get so lucky?" he got between your legs, "they don't make them like you anymore." he said cheekily as he rubbed his hard cock up against your slick entrance.

you blushed as you felt mark's cock up against you. you replied, "they don't make them like you anymore either."

mark adored you. he was deeply loving and protective. if he was protective now, imagine when you were having his baby?he soon sank into you and he loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his aching cock. his slice of paradise. he fit perfectly inside of you, his wife.

"fuck, mark." you groaned as you felt the euphoric state down to your nerves. you didn't think you'd crave sex as much as you did with mark.

he kissed your face with a gentle force. he clutched onto your soft thighs, "honey, you feel so good. i love you, i love you so much. you are the most - fuck - beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on." his thrusts were steady as he pressed as far as he could inside of you. the two of you were chest to chest.

his cock nudged against your spongy warmth. mark was hefty in the cock department. he was big, but knew you took it beautifully. even under him, letting him take you with no protective. but he was certain that your body was needy for him.

mrs. webber with her two children, playing in the yard while her loving husband tended to your tomato plants. a domestic bliss. mark webber's little family, his pride and joys. mark loved it and maybe when they were in bed. he'd get to feel his wife's curves again.

"you feel amazing, honey. fuck, you're my angel. perfect beyond measure. look at you. all mine. the wife to end all wives." his thrusts grew stronger.

even at his age, he could still keep up. you couldn't even tease him because you would just be lying. more often you tapped out before mark could ever break a sweat.

his pace continued, it was heavier. his movements were more desperate, he needed his cute little wife. he was smart by putting a ring on you. maybe he should've waited till after you graduated before you got married, but you were already putting webber on assignments by accident.

now he could spend all summer making a baby with you. you have that free time, letting him fuck you, make love to you, breed you. the headboard creaked up against the wall while he thrusted up into you. he heavily panted and he kept up the pace. he wanted you deeply, like a throb in his body while he worked your core.

your back arched a little, you held onto the covers for support while mark shifted your hips a little and continued to fuck you at a pace that left you breathless. sweet noises left your lips as he continued to feverishly fuck you. the leap in your heart as the need for more pleasure grew.

"mark."

"yes, honey?" he panted as he held onto you tighter. the race in his soul and the excitement coursed through him.

"i need you." you gasped as the pleasure only mounted in your body. it was near overwhelming, you felt the leap in your pulse and the sweat on your body. to mark it looked painfully erotic. you felt the heightened euphoria, your soul begged for your husband. you knew that mark's main kink was you. you as his wife. you as the mother of his children. he had a thing for your carrying that title. it fit you lovely, just like his cock in you.

as it should be.

you were so close to your orgasm, close to being pushed over the euphoric edge. you panted heavily, he felt amazing against you. you were so needy when mark gave you that pleasure you desired. you could taste it in your throat. the noises got sweeter, pathetic in a beautiful way. you held on tighter to the covers as the feeling only grew in you.

mark shuddered and continued his heavy thrusts. he could feel it as well which only spurred him on to continue his movements. he wanted to make you feel the best you could possibly feel. to pour his love into you, a certain deep devotion that left you yearning for more.

"cum for me, baby. my honey, my wife, cum for me." he groaned as he dug his hands into your hips. with a few more thrusts he finished inside of you.

he kept his pace steady in a post-orgasmic bliss. running on a certain primal instinct as he hiked your hips up further and fucked your pussy. he fucked you through your orgasm as your back arched and you held onto the covers tightly for support. the pleasure consumed you and it left you panting and hot all over.

"beautiful." he slowed his pace to a stop. he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. he pulled out and got you into his arms while he laid next to you in bed. your leg over his hip as you laid facing him. your cheek against his chest. his words were so much softer as he said, "you're the perfect wife. you do everything for me, and i do everything for you."

"aw c'mon!" you huffed as you tried to get a better look at the tomato plant. the problem was that there was too much of the plant in your way to check on what you needed to see. the thing had grown like a monster over the early parts of summer!

"honey.. baby." mark said as he picked up your small daughter to see what was troubling you, "why don't you try getting a chair to sit down." he placed a hand on your lower back.

you exhaled, "i'm fine, i'm fine." you were currently four months pregnant with your second child. your daughter, stella, was three now and excited to be a big sister. you were still a stubborn little wife despite mark's guidance to relax.

you rubbed your lower back and looked to your daughter, "next year you'll help daddy and i pick all the tomatoes, right?" then tickled your daughter's middle which made the little girl laugh loudly.

she nodded eagerly and mark kissed her on the top of the head. already a total daddy's girl. you said you had dibs on being your second child's favourite.

mark gave you a small kiss on the cheek and said, "better yet, how about you sit with stelly-belly and i get you both something to drink and i'll check the plants?" his eyes lingered on your round middle, "you're not wonder woman, honey. and before our second peanut is born, why don't you enjoy today?"

you sighed, reluctant. but once you got an armful of your daughter you had no choice but to take a seat. you knew you weren't going to win this fight. you leaned in to kiss him before you headed towards the patio furniture near by.

"hey!" mark said and you looked over. he pointed at you, "not too much sun alright, don't need my girls getting a sunburn today." then winked at you. he smiled. he couldn't be happier, he had everything he needed and so much more <3

#bunny writes #reader insert #formula 1 #formula one imagine #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #formula one #mark webber x y/n #mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber smut #f1 #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #pregnant reader #pregnant!reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days ago

Text

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie events #steddielovemonth #steddie love month #steve harrington x eddie munson

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sordidmusings · 2 days ago

Text

Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time.

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding.

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him.

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve.

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.”

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop.

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass.

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm.

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock-

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton.

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you.

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came.

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing.

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands.

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips.

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently.

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you.

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious.

“As if you don’t try already.”

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plans a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod.

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea.

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you.

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless, ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again.

“That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you two good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice.

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed.

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin.

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you.

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give.

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe.

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat.

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”.

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had.

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you.

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever.

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

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marauder-misprint · 1 day ago

Note

happy 500 followers i’m so happy for you!!

can you write 62 for the dialogue prompt with remus? maybe she’s james’ sister and a flirt just like him. bc jealous rem ✅✅ they’re dumb for each other but sooo oblivious

Thank you for the request ❤︎

I definitely had a moment writing where I was laughing to myself. You flirt with Remus for years: James has no problem. You say one flirtatious line to Sirius: James asks what's wrong with you.

What you need

Remus Lupin x Potter!reader

2.9k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, angst

You and James were dual threats. Quidditch stars, academic weapons when you chose to be, friendly, attractive and flirtatious. He had his sights set on Lily and you had yours on Remus. Your methods, however, differed. While James showered Lily with compliments and asked her out daily, you had a more gentle approach. You were drawn to Remus, plenty happy to just sit in his presence. You showered him with compliments as well and made him the center of your world, but you felt that, like Lily, he didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

You didn’t let it deter you though. You knew he was more reserved than the rest of the Marauders. You decided you would play the long game and wait. He would ask you out. Eventually.

You collapsed next to Remus on the couch in the common room with an exaggerated sigh. You leaned your head on his shoulder to see what book he was reading.

“The various color changes in the wiggenweld brewing process are essential to the process and without them, the potion will be rendered useless. Substitutions, while appropriate in other potions, will drastically reduce the effectiveness,” you read over his shoulder. “Merlin, Moony, what are you reading? I know Slug didn’t assign this.”

“Just reading up on healing potions. Never know when you’ll need one,” he said.

You hummed and adjusted your body so you were closer to him.

“Must be something more interesting going on now, though, right?”

“Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail all have detention.”

“I know,” you laughed. “Maybe we could do something! You know, just the two of us!”

You tried to not sound too excited at the idea. It was a rare opportunity that the other three had detention while you and Remus got off scot-free.

“Oh, well, I was planning on reading…”

“You could read out loud?” you suggested, desperate for some attention from him. “Maybe I’d learn something.”

“No good at reading out loud,” he mumbled.

“It’d be good practice, Moons. You know I won’t judge. Plus, you have a nice voice.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face turn a pink hue. You nudged him gently.

“Come on, read to me,” you sang softly.

Remus, feeling flustered, stood up.

“Please excuse me,” he said, leaving you on the couch alone.

You watched him retreat to his dorm with a frown on your face. Once again, it hadn’t gone as you had hoped. This wasn’t the first time you had alone time with Remus and he left just after you made him blush. You grumpily moved over into the spot he previously occupied. It was warm and faintly smelled of him; it was the second best thing right now.

It didn’t take long before Lily sat down in the squashy armchair near you.

“Why the long face Potter?” she asked. “Missing brother dearest and the troubled gang?”

You made a face at her, earning you a laugh. Oh, how James would’ve smiled and stared if he were here.

“They aren’t all in detention, Lils,” you told her.

“Well, you’re not. That would be at least one.”

“Ha,” you said dryly. “No, um, Remus is upstairs. Reading.”

“Huh. Doesn’t he usually read down here when they aren’t around?”

“Mhmm.” You took a deep breath. “He was for a bit.”

Lily nodded. “You’re in his spot, aren’t you?”

“Maybeeee,” you replied quietly, turning your face to look at the fire. “Smells like ‘im,” you added in a mumble.

She laughed again. “Potter, you’re doomed.”

You looked back at her so she could see you roll your eyes and then you returned your gaze to the flames. You knew you were doomed. You would follow Remus to the ends of the earth. You sat next to him whenever you could. You knew how he liked his tea and which quill was his favorite. You knew his ranking of tables in the library, the ones best for studying alone, studying in a group and prank planning. You knew which sweater was the comfiest because he wore it after every full moon. You adored him and he couldn’t seem to stand to be alone with you for more than a few minutes.

“So, what’d you say to him?”

“What?” Your head snapped back to Lily.

“He was reading in that spot and now he’s not. What made him go upstairs?”

“I asked him to read to me.”

“That all?”

You nodded, with a confused look on your face. If Lily thought it would’ve taken more to chase Remus away, perhaps something was up with Remus that you didn’t know about.

“Bit strange. I thought he would read to you,” she said lightly. Then she pulled out her own book and waved it in front of your face. “I could read to you if you want.”

“Not the same and you know it. But, if I were James…” you teased.

“If you were James, I’d be up in our dorm avoiding him.”

Like Remus is doing…

“You read. In your head. I’m going to the pitch... I need air.”

---

When you went to the pitch alone, you used it as a time to think, to clear your head. Did you need to practice because Gryffindor was playing Slytherin this week? Yes. But you also need to think. You’ve loved Remus for years and, well, something clicked while you were flying. He just didn’t like you that way and you had to make your peace with that.

You started small. You didn’t sit next to Remus at breakfast although you still had his tea ready for him when he arrived at the table. A look of confusion passed over his face when he saw you sitting between Sirius and Mary. He didn’t say anything about it, nor did anyone else.

Your next step was more direct. You sat next to Otto Bagman in your first class instead of Lily. That caught the eye of some people. Even more so when you let your hand linger on his shoulder longer than you should have and flashed him your brilliant smile. You laughed loudly at his lackluster jokes.

During the next class, you chose Stubby Boardman. And Gildeory Lockhart in the next. And Gideon Prewett. And Bertram Aubrey. Each got your flirtatious treatment. None made you feel like Remus did, but it was nice to have their attention.

At dinner, you pulled a move that none of them were expecting. You sat between Sirius and Mary like you had at breakfast. But you sat closer to Sirius than you usually did. It was a closeness you reserved solely for Remus.

The boys were discussing their next prank and determined that they would need to sneak into Slughorn’s private stores first in order to pull it off.

“I think Sirius should be the distraction. He’s got something super captivating about him, don’t cha think?” you said, leaning forward a bit.

You flashed him a soft smile as you rested your hand on his shoulder. If you hadn’t been looking at Sirius, you would’ve seen the glares that he immediately received from both James and Remus.

“Don’t know if Slug is particularly captivated by me, love,” Sirius said, looking down at you and matching your soft smile. Then a wicked glint appeared in his eyes as he turned back to the boys. “But, running in yelling about an exploding potion down the corridor? See how fast the old man can run!”

James’ expression changed in a flash. He slammed his hand down on the table.

“Brilliant, Padfoot!”

Remus, on the other hand, let his glare hold longer, only dropping it when Peter addressed him, asking him to repeat what they needed to get from storage. You remained close to Sirius for the rest of the meal as you offered your ideas for getting past Slughorn and for the actual prank. When you excused yourself after you finished, James followed you out of the hall and walked with you back to Gryffindor Tower.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” he asked.

“Obviously.”

“So then, what was that back there? What’s going on with you and Sirius?”

You stopped walking in shock. You spend years flirting with Remus and no comments from James, but one comment toward Sirius and now he’s suddenly concerned with your love life? James turned to fully face you and you frowned at the concern on his face.

“Nothing. There’s nothing between me and Sirius,” you said, sounding a bit incredulous.

“Then what the bloody hell was that comment at dinner? He’s like super captivating, he he he,” he mimicked in a falsetto.

You took a calculated step toward James while reaching for your wand.

“I do not sound like that.”

“What was the comment for then?” he repeated the question for the third time. “You don’t flirt with Padfoot.”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes.

“I had… a moment of clarity. Obviously, Moony isn’t right for me and I’ll get over him with whoever I need to.”

You huffed before stalking away from your brother. He stood there and watched you leave, utterly shocked by what you said. Obviously was a strong word in his opinion. He thought the obvious thing was the effect you had on Remus; Remus was hopelessly in love with but too insecure to do anything and you were waiting for him to make a move.

You continued to flirt with the boys throughout the rest of the week, with Gideon being the main recipient. Being a fellow Gryffindor and on the quidditch team gave him an easy foot up over the rest. James didn’t say anything more to you, really just being glad it wasn’t Sirius but still showing his concern nonverbally from across the room.

When he could, Remus would find an excuse to leave whenever you were with Gideon. He couldn’t dismiss how sick it made him feel. Somehow he had been the one receiving your attention for so long that he didn’t realize how much of his day was actually spent with you around, and he didn’t realize how cold he’d feel without your warmth. Instead, he now had to watch Gideon bathe in your compliments and subtle touches. Remus hated it.

When the weekend came, the whole school descended on the quidditch pitch for an exciting game. Gryffindor versus Slytherin always brought excitement. Every student donned either green or red, even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The game was a compilation of incredible plays and dirty moves. In the end, Gryffindor pulled through as your seeker caught the snitch. Usually, after a Gryffindor win, you’d search for Remus’ arms the moment you landed, but this time was different. You immediately found Gideon and let his arms be the ones to wrap around you and spin you around. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn’t mind that it wasn’t Remus; it was nice to be the one receiving the doting for once.

Gideon’s attention followed you all the way back to the common room for the party that ensued. You knew you had eyes on you - you could feel them. In the past, after a win, you’d have one drink in your hand and you’d nurse it while hanging around the outskirts of the party with Remus. You’d maybe do shots with James because no win was possible without the Potter Twins. This time, however, you were not standing around the edge of the party with Remus. Nor were you nursing a singular drink.

You were multiple drinks in and dancing with Gideon. His hands were traveling your body and you made no moves to stop him. You just kept moving to the music and taking sips of your drink.

Remus felt like throwing up at the sight. He had half a mind to walk up to you and tear you away from the ginger. He knew you could do better than Gideon, but if asked who, Remus would want to say himself, but was he better than Gideon? Once again, Remus let his insecurities get the best of him; he retreated to his dorm unable to watch you dance like that with another guy who wasn’t him.

You finished your drink and felt Gideon lean into your ear.

“Do you want to celebrate somewhere more… private?” he whispered.

You smiled at him before saying, “Refill first!”

James had been keeping an eye on you and Gideon for a while. He didn’t like the way that Gideon was touching you, just as much as he didn’t like how much you were drinking. You were certainly not in your right mind. He intercepted you on your way to the drink table.

“I’m cutting you off,” he said curtly before leading you to the stairs.

You pouted but allowed yourself to be ushered up to his dorm. In your head, you planned to sneak back down to the party the instant that James left you in his dorm. Once inside, he brought over to his bed and you sat down, crossing your arms.

“You need to sober up a bit. Um, here’s a water. You know extra blankets are in my trunk. Loo’s over there. Got your wand? Need anything else?”

You groaned in annoyance. “I’m fine, James,” you slurred. “But you know what I actually need.”

“Hm? What’s that?”

“To get over these damn feelings for Lupin!” you basically spat. “Can’t very well do that if I’m up here, can I? He won’t ask me out, won’t kiss me, can’t stand to be around me. Why you stopping me from moving on?”

“I-I…” he stuttered, trying not to look over at where Remus was sitting on his own bed with wide eyes. “I’m preventing you from making a decision you might regret.”

“James… James, James, James. I’m fine. Just let me get over being in love with Remus.”

James can’t help it. His eyes flickered to Remus. Yours immediately followed where his went. Remus was staring at you with a faint blush on his cheeks. Because why did you just say that you needed to get over being in love with him?

“Shit,” you muttered, falling back onto James’ bed. “Now I’ve said too much.”

“I’m… going to leave… and let you two… talk,” James said slowly, trying to sound casual and topping it off with snaps and finger guns.

“You’re… in love with me?” Remus asked nervously.

You made a noise that’s a mix of a scoff and laugh.

“Only been bloody head over heels for you for years, you twat.”

“You’ve been,” he muttered, not quite believing you.

“A girl can only flirt so hard,” you said with a heavy sigh.

“You were flirting?”

“With you. For years. Keep up, Lupin.”

There was a slight pause before he said softly, “You don’t call me Lupin.”

“I didn’t when I was in love with you.”

“Was?”

“Moony, Merlin’s fucking beard,” you exclaimed, propping yourself up on your elbows briefly. “Did you not just hear me tell James that I’m trying to get over you? You clearly don’t like me back so stop making it harder!”

You let yourself fall back onto James’ bed with a ‘humph.’ You stared up at the canopy. Then you felt the bed sink next to you and you don’t need to look over to know that Remus has joined you.

“You actually like me?” he whispered.

“If I have to say it one more time, I swear, Moony, I will curse-”

“You like me.” This time it was a statement. Remus doesn’t believe it yet, but he didn’t need you to finish your threat. “And it’s real. Not a prank or cruel joke or anything?”

You rolled onto your side so that you could see him.

“Stop pretending to be dense. It’s been hard enough coming to terms with you not liking me like that.”

“No!”

You blinked at him with a confused expression.

“Um, I… I do like you. Like that.”

“Remus… don’t tease me right now. You can’t stand to be alone with me for more than a minute.”

“Because I don’t trust myself to not kiss you.” He swallowed and allowed his eyes to flick down to your lips. “It’s easier to control myself when James, or anyone else, is around. But when it’s just you and me, and you say those sweet things… I just…”

“Those sweet things,” you repeated with quiet laughter. “You mean my flirting?”

“Yes. That.”

He stopped talking for a moment. He reached out to caress your face.

“I just thought you could do better than me.”

You scoffed at the idea that someone was able to be better than Remus.

“But seeing you with Aubrey, Lockhart, Bagman… Prewett…” Remus sighed. “It was hell.”

“So, what you’re saying is you’d like me to keep flirting with you and only you?” you asked softly before your teasing nature returned. “I don’t know about that, Moony. I might need something in return.”

“Anything.”

“Ask me out?”

“I… I can do that.” He cleared his throat. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me? Hogsmeade, next weekend?”

“Of course, you idiot,” you said before placing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

You hummed.

“Never flirt with Prewett again. It was nauseating.”

You laughed. “Just kiss me until my brother comes back, Moony.”

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #request #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff

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ghostlychaosfoil · 3 days ago

Text

KIRBY QUESTIONS!!!

may be repetitive.. some questions refer to similar things

also it is mostly unnecessary to read the questions above, you can just read my responses

kirby fs has to grow on people. He instinctively puts up a intimidating persona when meeting new people, due to his old job as a repo man. Hes pretty annoying at first, but he will lower that persona eventually.

kirby is very used to being alone so he feels pretty comfortable and calm with being alone. He was homeschooled for most of his life and his only past social experiences were at jobs where he had to be serious with the exception of his dad, whom he spend most of his time with. His social personality is always an attempt at a serious person (since he was never that good at acting like that) it is pretty easy to see through him at his mix of anxiety, suspicion and despairity to be likeable. over time he gives ul the act.

the emotion that is the hardest for kirby to deal with is fear

kirby is more physically affectionate than emotionally affectionate, though he needs to recieve both. he used to be more emotionally affectionate with leatherhead, when helping him through his occasional depressive episodes concerning his divorced partner.

kirby good at keeping secrets from everyone but one select person (raph or leatherhead, depending on the time) which must hear ALL the secrets

He speak in hints and riddle when it come to his past or other sensitive topics otherwise he is regrettably blunt.

Kirby is a decent liar until you pick up on subtle habits of his. Kirby will cover or hide his shoulder marks when he lies because when he was young, leatherhead told him that everyone could see his shoulder marks glow (parenting hack he found online). Kirby will lie to prove his point, or to get out of a uncomfortable situation.

Kirby is not very open about his true feelings positive and negative verbally but hes is pretty bad at controlling his body language and facial expressions.

Kirbys main love language is acts of service with minor quality time and physical touch.

Kirby does not fall in love very quickly because he will have manyyy contradicting toughts and feelings

some small things that make kirby happy are butter, small animals, mountain dew, sunsets, and when his rollerblades are clean

His self esteem plummeted after his krangification, due to his lack of support system and different appearance.

When kirbys sense of humor is mainly observational. If someone says or does something he will lightheartedly use it as a tool to make a joke. He doesnt make puns though, he more repeats the action with his own humorous spin on it (ex pointing out the irony of something or repeating what someone said in a weird voice). His laugh is also very contagious, so he can make people laugh fairly easily if he wants to. There is also the aspect of him unintentionally being funny in awkward situations, in which case he gets defensive or tries to play it off like it was a joke all along.

its not hard to make kirby laugh, he will laugh at any stupid pun or slightly ironic situation. he is not very good at suppressing his laughs (he does get mad if the laugh breaks his serious act). Kirby has a mainly wheeze laugh or a snicker, depending on how funny it was.

Kirby does not hide it very well when he doesnt like someone. he will often either not talk to them or try to refute or disprove their every word.

Kirby easily relies on others to help him out but he later learned to be more independent when he lived alone.

His biggest struggle that no one around is able to understand or believe is learning how to interact with his peers in a “kind” way. or his nerve disfunction that other deem veeeery convinient.

Oh boy does he have to hide his identity! After he is dekrangified, his marks are stained pink, still giving him a krangy look, not to mention his increase in size. That mixed with him already being mutant, he keeps to the alleys and tops of buildings and tries to keep a low profile and wears his hood when in public.

If he could change one thing in the past it would have been to not have been so embarrassed of his dad, and instead had appreciated it while he could.

When kirby is sad or upset he would prefer company but is scared/embarrassed to ask for it or admit it. it would go something like “kirby do you want a hug?” “nahh”(WHY DID I SAY THAT I DO WANT A HUG I SHOULD ASK FOR A HUG AGAIN SAY NEVERMIND SAY NEVERMIND) “wait actually uhh”

when kirby is sick he would prefer not to be seen.

kirby sure does have nightmares! and sleep paralysis. They are usually about the krang invesion or being krangified, or something starting with a happy scenario like his old life in his house, restaurant, junk yard, rollerblading, and then it twists into something scary. And thats when his dreams arent being manipulated by venus. his venus dreams are very vivid yet muffled. Venus is trying to reconnect with kirby and trying to find him through his dreams, kirby not understanding this one bit. He later has dreams about venus even when she isnt trying to be in them, stemming from kirby constantly worrying about the venus dreams.

The darkest period of kirby’s life was the months after being unkrangified, before meeting raph. This is because he is fully cut off from everyone he once knew, and has massive amounts of ptsd and anxiety, and injury from being krangified.

its very easy for kirby’s emotions to cloud his judgement.

kirby does have fears and phobias, lots of them. his willingness to open up depends on the likelyhood that it will change someones view of him (this is mainly after krangification, he was an open book w his dad and repo)

Physical injuries post krang: ocular migranes cause by blood vessel spasms (temporary blindness), sensory and motor nerve damage in areas where the krang was most populated (crush injury in arm due to compression), some areas of skin just ripped up and cut, just so much fatigue (the krang had his body working nonstop for months). Mental illness oh boy he got that anxiety and ptsd (lets just say hes in the special classes iykwim /ij)

Kirby does have scars, the most prominent being the pink stained marks on his face arms and legs (his face mostly), and he HATESS them, kirby cant stand to look in a mirror for a long time. The sight of the scary pink on his face send him in a spiral. He also has a scars on his hands from a butter knife (the super noticeable one on his left hand, its very embarrassing when he admits what actually caused it and that it wasnt from a shark fight) and smaller ones on both hands (he tried both hands🫣) from pizza cutters. the hand cuts he doesnt mind as much, though he forgets about them as his hands are usually wrapped nowadays, they sometimes make him sad but only sometimes!

something that kirby will never forgive is something that kirby doesnt know yet… BUT in the meantime its the harm he caused as a krang

kirby deals with loss, stress, and anger in a sort of neutral way if its not that severe. He goes out of his way to avoid all things that would even slightly trigger a thought about the thing causing the distress (this could possibly mess with his sleep or safety🤔). He will try to distract himself with tasks such as cleaning or fixing things in his home, listening to the radio, going out and just walking around doing whatever he ends up doing. (if its severe them somebody go check on kirby)

best coping mechanisms above ⬆️ worst coping mechanism would be “try not to sleep ever challenge!!!” (somebody put him down)

It is super hard for kirby to own up to his mistakes and wrongdoings because he thinks admitting to them means hes a horrible person.

heheheh….. maybeeee

kirby’s fondest and most treasured memories would be cooking or watching tv with his dad.

some vices Kirby has are lying, stealing, and being easily agitated

Kirby doesnt not like his appearance, if he could change it he would at least change his marks back to normal shape and color.

His favorite blanket hold emotional value because it reminds him of the one he used to have. Its a giant fluffy brown blanket that he stole😳 through someones window( saw it, stuck his arm through to window, starts pulling it out and is struggling because he underestimated its size, its owner, who was IN THE ROOM, starts pulling it back and yelling, kirby had already gotten too deep he gotta commit, so he eventually wins the tug o war and scurries off w it). his butterfly knives later hold emotional value when one of the turtles etches Anata wa hitori ja nai when kirby is accepted into the fam.

Kirby would spend a lazy day to go on walk, rollerblade, just be outside. But if theres someone around, he will just try to join in on whatever they are doing, if nothing to di w them, he shall suggest a movie or crafts of some kind.

When kirby needs to feel comfortable, he would prefer to be in a quiet place or go with someone he trusts (ex raph, the other turtles too as time goes on). Another comfort is his blanket specifically or any blanket in general, he likes being warm.

Kirby’s sleeping habits are BAD due to his fear of dreaming that he has developed. His favorite sleeping position is on his back but most surfaces arent squishy enough for him to lay on his back due to his shell shape, his second favorite is fetal position. Kirby twitches and moves a LOT in his sleep unless its a super deep sleep, then hes totally still. If he’s sleeping with someone then he will often gravitate towards the warmth of the person, if not clinging to, hes at least touching them.

Oh kirby is picky with his food alright. He grew up in his dad’s restaurant (minotaurs pizza) and he expects everything he eats to be of that “high” quality (hes alwayss disappointed).Also ironically he mostly snacks on very not high quality food throughout the day instead if eating meals. he will at least try whatever you give him but he will complain the whole time. He has a borderline addiction to butter and buttery foods.

Their usual morning routine is not very set in stome for kirby, it fluxuates from day to day and where he is.

Their idea of a perfect hangout would be to go skate around somewhere not too busy or loud (maybe in naturee🤔) and then go get the “butter safe then sorry”(lmao) pizza from minotaurs pizza and then go to someones house and watch a movie

he dodsnt know what that is

At a party you would find kirby smuggling food in his pockets, either being really good or horribly bad at a party game, or scaring the hoes😔

for an event he would dress slightly different than he normally does and think its dressed up

Kirby dresses for comfort rather than style (his one rule for dressing is just NO PINK)

NO NONO NOnot like leo LMAOO

i dont knowww

some things people assume he doesnt know or can do: knows how to to churn butter so thats a thing that he can do. He is pretty good at fighting though his form is shit. he is knowledgeable on agriculture and earth stuff. Some things people assume he does know but he doesnt: this guy CANNOT spell and does not know what a lot of the words he uses mean. he cant ica skate (it is NOT the same as rollerblading) or skateboard.

He is really good at rollerblanding and negotiating, he is really bad at reading and writing

Kirby is good with money, hes very cheap and also very reluctant to spend it, so, he ends up saving lots of it.

kirby is NOT bilingual (I know I know sorry to disappoint the fans). He stuggled to learn his first language he couldnt speak another if he tried.

Kirby does like to sing but he is so bad at it. He is not confident in it. He will sing super loud if he knows hes alone (he WILL swear off singing if caught).

Kirby doesnt like the shopping aspect of gift giving (online shopping HAYES to see him coming but he doesnt have a credit card soo) but he LOVES seeing the person glow when they see what he got them. Kirby is actually a phenomenal gift giver.

Kirby can take a liking to a place so fast, but it will take a while for his perspective to shift from the old home to the new one. If he comes back to a place more than once than its a contender for a home.

Kirby would react to a dirty joke by immediately shifting to a blank expression and slowly turning to stare at the person whi said it.

The most stupid and dangerous thing hes ever done is either try to tame repos cat or stay awake for a long period of time alone in the city with a fucked up body

In the situation where he had to choose, he would rather stay loyal to the people he loves

Kirby would want to be remembered for being right.

If they were to commit a crime(he has commit it already) I would be theft alll the theft. or poisoning someone (he REALLY had to fight the urge when he was working at minotaurs).

OC questions

60 questions that can be made into an OC ask game, or you can just fill everything out yourself to get to know your character a little better :)

___

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

[2] How does their social personality differ from how they act when they’re alone?

[3] What emotion is the hardest for them to deal with?

[4] How physically and emotionally affectionate they are?

[5] Are they good at keeping secrets?

[6] How direct are they in conversations, do they speak in hints and riddles or bluntly say what they think?

[7] Are they a good liar, and what would they probably lie about?

[8] How open they are about their true feelings, both positive and negative?

[9] What is their love language?

[10] How quickly do they fall for someone?

[11] What are small things that make them happy?

[12] How high is their self-esteem?

[13] What kind of sense of humor do they have, if any?

[14] What does it take to make them laugh, and what does their laugh sound like?

[15] How do they act around people they don't like?

[16] Do they easily rely on others to help them out, or prefer doing everything themselves?

___

[17] What is their biggest struggle that no one around them is able to understand or believe?

[18] Do they ever have to hide their identity and for what reason?

[19] If they could change one thing about their past, what would they change?

[20] When they’re sad or upset, do they need company or some time alone?

[21] When they’re sick, would they want others to visit and take care of them, or they would rather prefer not to be seen at not their best?

[22] Do they have nightmares, and if yes, when did they start and what are they usually about?

[23] What was the worst, the darkest period of their life that they have been through?

[24] How hard it is for them to not allow their emotions to cloud their judgement?

[25] Do they have fears and phobias, and if they do, do they usually keep it to themselves or talk about it openly?

[26] Do they have any physical or mental ilness, how do they handle it and how open they are about it?

[27] Do they have any scars, how did they get them and how do they feel about them?

[28] What is something that they will never be able to forgive?

[29] How do they deal with loss, stress and anger?

[30] What are their most healthy and most unhealthy coping mechanisms?

[31] How hard it is for them to own up to their mistakes and wrongdoings?

[32] Is there something they've done in the past that they deeply regret till this day?

[33] What are one of their fondest and most treasured memories?

___

[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about?

[35] Do they like their own appearance, and what do they do, if anything, to alter it in any way?

[36] Do they own items that have sentimental value?

[37] How would they spend a lazy day when they have nothing specific to do?

[38] What do they usually do or where do they go when they need to feel comfortable and safe?

[39] What is their sleeping habits and favorite sleeping position, either alone and with someone?

[40] How picky they are with food, do they have specific dietary requirements based on their health or culture?

[41] What’s their usual morning routine?

[42] What is their idea of a perfect friendly hangout and/or romantic date?

[43] Do they enjoy flirting or being flirted with?

[44] On a party, where would you find them?

[45] For an event, would they dress like they typically do, or go all out?

[46] Would they rather dress to look attractive or to feel comfortable, and what would they never wear?

[47] Do they drink alcohol, and if they do, how much and how often?

[48] Are they, or were they at some point in their life, a part of any subculture?

___

[49] Do they possess any unexpected skill or knowledge that surprises others, and otherwise, what is something anyone would assume they know or can do, but in fact they don’t?

[50] What are they really good and really bad at?

[51] How good are they with money?

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

[53] Do they like to sing and how confident they are with their singing?

[54] Do they like giving gifts, and how good are they at picking good gifts?

[55] How long does it take for them to make a new place feel like home, and what do they need for it?

[56] How would they react to hearing a dirty joke?

[57] What was the most stupid or dangerous thing they have ever done?

[58] In the situation where they had to choose, would they rather stay loyal to their morals or to people they love?

[59] What would they want to be remembered for?

[60] If they were to commit a crime, what kind of crime would it most likely be?

---

some of these question were written myself, some are the courtesy of my friend, and some were brought from my questionnaires in my old fandom. if you use them, please reblog or link back to this post

#kirby info #rottmnt kirby #rottmnt oc #rottmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #rottmnt season 3 #unpause rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt

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joemama-2 · 19 hours ago

Text

"are you the fairy?"

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: You meet Gojo Satoru in a place untouched by time, where his laughter rings through empty streets and his hands chase yours like a promise he fully intends to keep. He is younger, reckless with his love, blind to the weight of the years that separate you—years that have taught you that love is not always meant to be kept. You let yourself have him anyway, knowing all the while that his future is stretching toward a horizon you cannot follow. When the time comes, you do what must be done—let him free.

wc: 7.3k

tags/warnings: angst, eventual comfort, suggestive content, older! reader, dividers by @/cafekitsune, HOPEFULLY PROOFREAD ENOUGH :(

Aging. A fear most people have. The fear of growing old, growing weaker, needing others to rely on for simple tasks, no longer being in your ‘prime’, and of course—the grey hairs. While it can be argued that aging is a natural, human process; it can also be argued that no one ever really wants to grow old. No one wants to see everything they knew and loved vanish before their own two deteriorating eyes, no one wants to become just a distant memory. But no one wants to be immortal either. It’s a weird push and pull, leaving humans with only one choice: enjoy it while it lasts, and make the most of your life.

And so, that’s what you have been doing.

Graduating, getting a nice paying job, having a good place, traveling the world, making a name for yourself, being…happy. Sure, you’ve made friends and connections, but none of those amount to being in the peaceful solitude of your lonesome. You’ve faced adversaries in your life, and you’ve overcome them—that’s what making the most out of your life means. But you know what doesn’t fall under that category?

Allowing yourself to fall in love with a man almost two decades younger than you.

But with life comes spontaneous events, debating the pros and cons and wondering the ‘what ifs’.

And what if—against all logic, against every carefully laid plan—you let yourself have him? What if you ignore the whispers in your mind that warn of fleeting youth, of inevitable goodbyes, of the cruel march of time that will leave you grasping at something you were never meant to keep? Gojo Satoru is reckless in his affection, undeterred by the years between you, pressing himself into your life with an audacity that makes it impossible to push him away. He tells you that love doesn’t care for numbers, that age is nothing more than an arbitrary construct, and when he looks at you with that unwavering gaze, you almost believe him.

Almost.

You’re forty-five when you meet him, he’s nothing but a young and adventurous thirty-year-old. You remember being thirty.

“Are you from here?” you asked, resting your palm against your cheek. The coldness of the bar’s countertop sits underneath your elbow—you regard him with a curious gaze. The first thing you noticed was the pretty eyes he had. The next was his smile—that handsome smile that was doing weird things to your heart. You remember your late husband smiling at you like that every day, every chance he got. Your lip quirks up.

“No, I’m from Japan,” he replies smoothly, jutting his chin in your direction. “And you?”

You tell him.

“Oh, that’s nice. So, what are you doing all the way here?”

“Vacation.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Pretty well. Italy is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you.”

A cheesy pick-up line you’re more than accustomed to. You save his awkwardness with a small laugh, eyebrow raising. “Thank you,” you glance down at the dark liquid in your cup, swirling its contents. “Though you aren’t the first to tell me that.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick with the weight of history you’ve long since buried. It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To be flattered but not fooled, to hear compliments that once would have made your heart race but now only bring a faint ache, like a ghost brushing past your skin. You didn’t expect to be here, sitting in this foreign bar, in this foreign city, drinking away the remnants of a life you thought you’d left behind—no more waiting for a man to come home, no more running on borrowed time. And yet, here he is, his smile still holding the weight of something undeniably fresh, something he hasn’t yet had time to tarnish with the passing years.

He chuckles, and it’s sincere. Like he knows how to handle this situation and like he’s done it a hundred times before—charming the older woman, never realizing the danger he’s flirting with. You can’t help but notice how easily he fits into this moment, how the energy between you feels almost too comfortable for something so unexpected. His youth, his vitality—it’s intoxicating, and yet, you know it’s only a matter of time before you have to draw the line, to remind yourself that he’s playing with something far more fragile than he understands.

You meet his eyes again, and for a second, you let yourself indulge. He’s not just handsome; he’s magnetic. And though you’ve seen his type before—young, reckless, full of life—there’s something different about him. It’s that smile, that easy confidence as if the world is nothing but a playground for him to conquer. Your heart stirs involuntarily, the edges of something you thought was long gone starting to flutter back to life.

"So, do you always travel alone?" you ask, your voice a little softer now, more curious than before.

His grin widens, pleased by the shift in your tone. “Not usually, but this time I decided to take some time for myself. I needed a change of scenery.” He leans in a little, dropping his voice to something almost conspiratorial. "It's nice to get away from it all, you know? To meet people who don't know your story."

The irony of his words doesn’t escape you. Here you are, a stranger in a new city, with a lifetime of stories you no longer tell, and yet, his openness makes you feel like you’re both speaking the same unspoken language. You could tell him everything, share the years of love and loss, of heartache and healing, but you don’t. You keep it hidden, tucked away where only time and memory can touch it.

“That sounds familiar,” you say quietly, glancing down at your glass again. Your fingers trace the rim absently. “Sometimes it's the only way to find peace." You don’t know why you’re telling him this. It’s not as though you’ve shared your soul with a stranger in a bar before. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, something open and unafraid, that makes you think—just for a moment—that maybe this conversation, this meeting, isn’t entirely by chance. Something you haven’t felt in…a long time.

“Do you usually travel alone?”

You hum. “I do now.”

“Why now?”

“Because my husband doesn’t come along with me anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?” He sips from his own cup, but when he puts it back down, its fizziness tells you it’s just coke.

You take a moment to reply, unsure if you should trauma dump on a stranger. But he did ask. “Because he’s dead,” you simply comment, leaning back in your stool and gauging his reaction.

But he doesn’t show a face of surprise or a face of regret. He doesn’t offer his unwanted apology. He nods, humming softly in thought. But his eyes change—and you think for a second that it looks like a silent sense of understanding—like he’s lost someone too before. “And what was his name?”

Your cheeks pinch up, smile widening in fondness. Looking down at your left hand that once housed a beautiful, golden ring. “Masamichi.”

There’s a stillness in the air for a second, the kind that doesn’t feel heavy but rather reverent, as if time itself paused to acknowledge the weight of your words. You look at him through the corner of your eye, seeing how his gaze softens—not with pity, but with something deeper, something far more intimate. It’s the kind of understanding that doesn’t come from words, but from shared experiences, and you’re struck by the thought that perhaps, in some quiet corner of his heart, he knows what it’s like to lose the love of your life.

He doesn’t speak for a while, but there’s something in the way he leans forward that tells you he’s listening in a way that feels different than the usual casual conversations you’ve had with strangers. His eyes are fixed on you, almost as though he’s waiting for you to continue, to say something more, but he doesn’t push. He waits—patiently, and respectfully. "Masamichi," he repeats the name softly, as if he’s testing it on his tongue as if it’s a secret he’s now been entrusted with. “That’s a really cool name, sounds like he was a hardass.”

You chuckle lightly and nod, not trusting yourself to speak again for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat. “He was, but he had his moments.”

“When were those?”

“When he’d call me pretty names.”

“Like?”

You bite your lip, smile wavering a bit as you recount ever beautiful name he used to call you. One always stuck out. “Well, he used to call me a fairy.”

He chuffs. “Why a fairy?”

"He told me I was delicate, elusive, like something too beautiful to be real. He used to say I’d flown in from some distant place, where the sky was always clear and the air was always fresh." The words feel like they’ve drifted in from a different lifetime, a time when love was a constant companion, not a faint, distant echo. You tilt your head, the corners of your mouth turning up. "I think he liked that idea, that I wasn’t tied down to anything—just... floating through life, free. He said I made him believe in things he never thought possible."

His gaze softens as he watches you, leaning a little closer now as if drawn into the quiet weight of your story. "That’s beautiful," he says, his voice low, almost reverent. "It sounds like he saw you in a way no one else could."

You nod, the memory of his warm words filling the space between you. "He did. And sometimes... sometimes I felt like I was a fairy, too. Like I didn’t really belong to this world. But when he called me that, it made me feel like I was meant to be somewhere, meant to be his." A quiet moment hangs between you, the air heavy with the soft intimacy of shared vulnerability. You meet his eyes, feeling an unexpected connection—the kind of unspoken understanding that can only exist between people who have known the depths of love and loss.

Then, just as you’re about to pull back, he asks, with a gentle curiosity, “Do you still believe in fairies?”

You blink at him, a little taken aback. The question seems simple enough. You shrug, half in amusement, half in disbelief. "I don't know if I believe in them, but... I like to think that maybe they’re real, in some way. In the things we can’t see, in the moments that take our breath away."

His eyes seem to light up, almost as if he’s surprised by your answer. There’s a long beat of silence before his lips curl into a smile that reaches his eyes. "Maybe you’re still a fairy, then," he says, voice warm with something like wonder.

You shake your head. "Yeah, maybe."

The words hang between you, filled with something gentle, something fleeting but real. You feel the stirrings of a connection, fragile and unexpected, like the wingbeats of a fairy. There’s a hollow space in your chest where his memory used to sit, and it takes everything in you not to let it show, not to let the quiet ache spill over. The ring on your finger is long gone, but the phantom of it lingers—an unspoken promise that can never be fulfilled, a history you no longer share with anyone. “What about you?” You shift the conversation, trying to keep the tears at bay, trying to pull yourself back from the edge of vulnerability you’re teetering on. “Do you have someone, someone you’ve loved the way you were loved?”

His smile falters a tad, a flash of something—pain, perhaps, or nostalgia—passing through his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the easy grin you’ve already grown accustomed to—the one that doesn’t let anyone get too close. But the silence that follows speaks volumes, and you almost feel like you’ve crossed some invisible line. Fearing that you’ve peeked into a part of him he didn’t mean nor want to reveal. "I did," he says quietly, almost to himself, the words hanging between you both like a secret. “But sometimes, we love people in ways they can’t love us back.”

The weight of his words sits heavily in the space between you. It’s raw, vulnerable in a way that contradicts his earlier bravado, and you find yourself wondering how much more of him there is behind that smile, behind the charming facade. In that moment, you see something that mirrors your own grief, your own loneliness, and it’s unsettling. “Is she still around?”

“He’s not,” he shakes his head.

You take a sip from your glass, the sharp bitterness of the alcohol grounding you, and give him a small, knowing smile. “Well, I suppose we all have our stories.”

His eyes lock onto yours for a long, unspoken moment. You wonder if this is one of those rare moments in life where people truly see each other—not just for the faces they wear, but for what’s buried beneath. What they carry in the silence. “I think you’re right,” he finally says, his voice soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a quiet tenderness that wasn’t there before. "But not everyone’s story is meant to be told in one night."

Your heart flutters for a reason you can’t quite place, and for the first time in a long while, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, fate isn’t as cruel as it’s always seemed. Maybe, in this strange twist of events, you weren’t meant to run away from the past after all—but to face it, alongside someone who understands what it’s like to love and lose.

“I’m too old for you,” you laugh off his subtle suggestion, looking over to the opposite corner of the small, dim-lit bar. There are two girls sitting at the booth with obviously wandering eyes toward your new, unexpected companion. “Maybe them.”

He follows your gaze, his eyes flickering briefly to the two girls in the corner, before turning back to you with that signature, easy grin—unchanged, unaffected. The playfulness in his smile doesn’t reach the depths of his eyes, though. You wonder if he’s seeing something entirely different than the charming stranger you’ve made him out to be. You can feel the shift, subtle but undeniable, as if he’s testing the waters of your words, gauging how much of this is just casual banter and how much of it has an undercurrent you aren’t ready to acknowledge.

"Maybe," he replies, leaning back slightly, but there’s a glint of something else in his expression now, something that makes the air between you feel heavier. "But you know, I’m kind of having some fun with you right now." His voice drops, a playful edge softening into something more serious, and it makes you wonder if he’s teasing or if there’s something deeper in his intentions that hasn’t fully revealed itself yet.

“I don’t think we’re having fun.”

“Then what are we having.”

“A simple conversation, nothing more, nothing less.”

He chuckles, leaning closer and tilting his head towards you. “Just how old do you think I am?”

You meet his gaze, noticing a small twinkle. Your eyes move down, analyzing his features. He lets you do so in an untimely manner and when he sees that you’re looking lower at his arms, he playfully flexes. An amused snort that almost sounds like a scoff leaves your lips. “Young enough to be my son.”

“Do you have children?”

“And if I do?”

“Then that’s even better because I love MILFS.”

You scoff for real this time, eyes narrowing at him. “I don’t, but what you just said further proves my point.”

The air between you both shifts, like a quiet storm brewing, though neither of you is quite ready to acknowledge it. His words hang there, an almost careless suggestion laced with mischief, but they are impossible to ignore. You try to brush it off, laugh it off, but something about the way he leans in—his proximity, the way his gaze never wavers from yours—makes it harder than it should be. There’s something in his demeanor that says he’s not just playing, not just following the familiar rhythm of flirty banter. It feels like he’s pushing against the boundaries you’ve set, testing them in a way that catches you off guard.

He watches your every reaction carefully, his smile just a little too knowing, a little too calculated for someone so young. You can feel the heat of his gaze as it lingers, catching you off guard in a way that leaves your words hanging in your throat. His comment about MILFs—joking or not—makes your skin prickle uncomfortably, and for a second, you wonder if he’s being more sincere than you care to admit. But you can’t show it, not when you’ve already drawn the line, already told yourself this was just a fleeting moment in an unfamiliar place.

You clear your throat, trying to bring the conversation back to familiar ground, but the awkwardness lingers. “I’m sure you have better things to do than sit here with a woman who could be your mother.”

“Maybe I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” he says, the playful edge in his voice softened by something deeper. There’s a sudden, subtle weight to his words, as though he’s no longer speaking just to entertain or to flirt, but to convey something more. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, and it catches you off guard. His eyes meet yours, steady and unwavering. The playful front cracks, revealing a hint of something you can’t quite name.

You shift uncomfortably, your thoughts creeping in again. "Well, you’ll find plenty of people who can keep you entertained around here." You gesture vaguely to the bar, the people milling about, the noise, the chatter. "I’m not the one you’re looking for."

His expression dampens. “Maybe you’re right. But maybe I’m just looking for someone who sees me, you know?”

The words hit you harder than they should, a soft pressure in your chest that you quickly try to dismiss. What is he saying? He doesn’t know you, yet he’s almost acting like he does. "I see you," you respond, your voice quieter than before, the weight of the statement hanging between you both like a truth neither of you is willing to face.

He doesn’t say anything right away, but his eyes darken, the smile fading into something more thoughtful, more introspective. You begin to think he might say something that cuts through all the barriers you’ve put up, something that challenges the notion that this is just a casual encounter between strangers. But instead, he shifts in his seat, taking another long sip of his drink. “I don’t know if you do,” he finally says, his voice lower now, the playful lilt gone.

When he puts his drink down, you blame it on the alcohol from the way your skin flushes in a girlish way as he leans in—his breath fanning your ear. You also blame it on the alcohol when you’re reciprocating his advances, meeting his stare with an equally heated one of your own. And finally, you blame it on the alcohol when you tilt your head to whisper something in his ear.

“Do you want me to look harder?”

That was the first night you went home with him—the first night you indulged in the warmth and pleasure a man—Satoru—can bring you. And even after sharing your ages, that never stopped. It somehow…never stopped you either. You found yourself giving in—almost craving the way his hands grip your hips, the way his slim and long fingers dance along your ribs in a soft manner.

You didn’t expect yourself to be falling over the edge, finishing on just the tongue of a man younger than you. You always prided yourself on wanting—needing—an older man. And god, you were really missing out, weren’t you?

But it wasn’t just the way he touched you, the way his mouth knew exactly how to undo you piece by piece—it was the way he looked at you. Like you were something untouchable, yet here he was, holding you, ruining you, worshipping you in ways you hadn’t let anyone do in years.

It was intoxicating.

You told yourself it was just a fling, something fleeting, something fun. A vacation romance, a secret indulgence that you’d tuck away once you boarded your plane back home. But Satoru wasn’t the kind of man you could forget easily. His touch lingered, his voice echoed, and before you even realized it, you were answering his calls. Responding to his texts. Finding yourself in his arms again, even when you swore it would be the last time. You found yourself smiling at him when you believed he wasn’t looking, stifling a peal of laughter at his stupid jokes that he only said so he could see the way your eyes crinkle at the edges—you were finding comfort in him.

A warm, tentative comfort that only one other man had brought you before.

There were times you felt guilty, believing you were still bound to your late husband even in death, and at times—you almost compared the two. However, you know Masamichi would’ve wanted you to move on and care for yourself in ways he couldn’t do anymore. He would’ve smiled and encouraged you to find pleasure in your life.

And you did.

Because somewhere between those nights tangled in silk sheets and the hushed laughter over shared meals, you forgot to remind yourself of the one thing that mattered most: this was never meant to last.

But at the same time, you almost didn’t want it to end. You enjoyed the way he kissed your knuckles, moved strands of hair out your face, and complimented you when you felt at your lowest. He was seeing every part of you—the good and the bad, the pretty and the ugly. You were letting him.

One night, after a particularly passionate session, he’s running his fingers along the curve of your spine. Naked bodies huddled next to one another, and the sheets offer a nice little coverup. The moonlight peeks through his blinds, the plush mattress sinking further underneath your weights. He kisses the top of your head softly before moving to your temple. Once again, you’re smiling. Tracing mindless circles on his bare chest, your foot rubbing up and down his calf. No words are spoken, there usually aren’t. But the silence doesn’t feel deafening; it feels comfortable. You found yourself snuggling closer to him. “Satoru?”

“Mhm?” he hummed back, sighing lightly, his smile never wavering.

“Where do you…see yourself in ten years?”

He hums again, this time in thought, his fingers never ceasing their lazy tracing along your spine. You feel the way his chest rises and falls beneath your palm, steady and unhurried. You wonder if he’s really thinking about your question, or if he’s simply enjoying the feel of you against him. “In ten years?” he finally repeats, voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile moment. “I don’t know…Happy, I guess. Settled down; I’d like to have kids by then.”

Your fingers pause against his chest. You don’t know why, but his answer catches you off guard. Not because it’s shocking—he’s young, full of life, full of potential—but because it’s something you’ve stopped thinking about for yourself. “Kids?” you echo, tilting your head up to look at him. His pale lashes flutter slightly as he meets your gaze, and there’s something soft in his expression, something almost wistful.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, a small chuckle escaping him. “A couple of ‘em, maybe. A little girl who’s just as stubborn as me, a boy who’s just as curious. Someone to pass everything down to, y’know?” His hand moves from your back, up to your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he exhales. “I think I’d be a good dad.”

You don’t doubt that. Satoru is many things—annoying, arrogant, childish at times—but he’s also deeply caring. He loves with his whole heart, even when he pretends he doesn’t. You can see him being the kind of father who carries his child on his shoulders, who spoils them with sweets, who makes bad dad jokes just to hear their laughter.

And yet, you can’t bring yourself to say that out loud. Instead, you settle for a noncommittal hum, lowering your head back onto his chest, letting the weight of his words settle between you. Ten years from now, he’ll have a family. He’ll have everything he wants. And you won’t be part of it.

That’s when reality hit for you. You’re holding him back. You can’t give him what he wants, what he longs for. It’s a bittersweet, brutal reminder that this little world you’ve built was only meant to be temporary. That the laughs, touches, kisses, the sex, it’s fickle. You’ve blinded yourself and let yourself sink too far deep to understand that what Satoru wants…he can’t experience with you.

And so, it started small. Days spent out with him, your eyes would flicker around, moving from one woman to the next. Pointing them out to him in an encouraging way.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” “Maybe you should go ask for her number.”

“You’re both tall, you would go well together.”

It honestly hurt to push him away—to open his eyes to the other fish in the sea while a small part of you wished he could only be yours. But you’d never ask him to stop following his dreams of becoming a family man for your own selfish desires.

At the start, he humors you. Rolls his eyes, scoffs, plays along like it’s just another one of your little jokes. “She’s alright, I guess,” he shrugs when you point out a woman at the café, her long legs crossed elegantly as she sips on a cappuccino. “But I prefer my women a little more…experienced.” He flashes you that cocky grin, the one that always makes your stomach flutter.

You laugh, but it’s forced. You ignore the way your chest tightens, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him. But then you do it again. And again. And again.

It doesn’t take him long to catch on.

One evening, when you offhandedly comment on the cute waitress who just served your drinks, something shifts in his expression. His smile dims, his fingers drum idly against the table. “Y’know,” he says, tone too casual, too light. “You’ve been doing this a lot lately.”

You feign ignorance, sipping your wine. “Doing what?”

“Trying to set me up like some kind of matchmaking service.” He leans forward, elbows on the table, gaze sharp. “You got tired of me already?”

You force back a sigh. The way he says it—half-joking, half-serious—makes your stomach twist. “Satoru—”

“No, really,” he cuts in smoothly, tilting his head. “Is that what this is? You pushing me away? Guilt-tripping me into realizing you’re too old for me or whatever bullshit you’ve been telling yourself?”

Your fingers clench around the stem of your glass. He sees right through you. You swallow, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

His laugh is sharp, humorless. “Looking out for me?” He leans back, stretching his arms along the booth. “Or making decisions for me?”

You hate how much that stings. You hate how right he is.

“I just…” You exhale, setting your glass down. “I just don’t want to hold you back, Satoru.”

His jaw tightens. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, you think he’s going to argue. You think he’s going to tell you you’re being ridiculous, that he wants you, that he doesn’t care about the future you keep running from.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really that convinced this can’t work, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

His lips press into a thin line. He nods once, slow and deliberate. “Alright,” he mutters, reaching for his drink. “Message received.”

And just like that, the air between you shifts.

Colder.

More distant.

Like the beginning of the end.

Your heart drops, looking back down at your wine. For a second, you felt like you ruined things. But it’s better to nip things in the bud than let them bloom, is it not?

Even after that, he was still adamant about seeing you. You let him, deciding to relish in these last few tender moments you may have with him. The sun was shining and beaming down on you two as you ate your brunch. It was a pleasant day. She was beautiful—the kind of beautiful that made you wonder how someone like her could even exist in this world. The type of beautiful that turned heads and left impressions. The type that had Satoru slowly following her with his eyes. You tell yourself this is a good thing. That this is what you wanted. That you should feel relieved that, finally, he’s looking at someone else the way he shouldn’t be looking at you.

But it doesn’t feel like a relief. It feels like a knife twisting in your gut.

You lift your mimosa to your lips, taking a slow sip, pretending you don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on her. She’s stunning—long legs, flawless skin, a radiant smile that could stop anyone in their tracks, and long black hair. She looks like she belongs in a magazine, not in a small café, laughing at something her friend just said.

You force yourself to smile. “She’s exactly your type.”

Satoru’s attention snaps back to you, and there’s something unreadable in his expression. He blinks, then exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t quit, do you?”

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “I’m just saying, you should talk to her.”

He scoffs, pushing his fork around his plate. “Yeah? And then what?”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Satoru sets his silverware down with a quiet clink, resting his arms on the table. “Let’s say I go up to her. Get her number. Take her on a date.” He shrugs, giving you a half-smile. “Then what? I sleep with her? Take her on more dates? Marry her?”

You stare at him, not sure where this is going.

“And then we have kids,” he continues, his tone light, but his eyes—his eyes are sharp, cutting right through you. “That’s what you want, right? For me to find someone younger, someone who can give me the future I want.”

Your throat tightens.

He leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “So, tell me something.” His voice drops, softer now, almost vulnerable. “If I wanted all of that with someone else, don’t you think I’d already be doing it?”

Your breath catches.

He waits.

But you don’t have an answer.

All you can do is encourage him to go up to her.

And he did.

He was reluctant, of course. Only doing it to shut you up.

But you saw the way his expression softened, the way his dimples poked out when he’d talk about her. You were there on the side, watching what he once thought would be a simple meeting, to finding a woman he’d started to fall for.

It was like watching a slow-moving car crash—one you orchestrated with your own hands. You had done this. You had led him to her, pushed him in her direction, knowing full well what it would mean. And yet, knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

The texts started. Little mentions of her here and there. You caught the way his face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen before, the way he spoke about her with that quiet sort of wonder like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he never expected to solve. You were still a part of his life, still, someone he made time for, but something between you had shifted irreversibly. The stolen moments, the lingering touches, the whispered confessions under moonlit sheets—they grew fewer and further between, replaced by something… distant.

She was such a kind and lovely woman, her voice made of butter when she spoke to you about him. And when you caught him smiling at his phone one evening, thumb idly tapping out a message to her, you knew.

He had found what you wanted for him. What he deserved. What you couldn’t give him.

So why did it feel like you were the one being left behind?

“Are you happy?” you had whispered, holding him tight in a hug, eyes beginning to water.

He held you back, arms secure around your waist. His icy hair tickled your skin, and he planted a soft, reverent kiss on your cheek. Pulling back to look at you, he didn’t have that fiery, teasing sparkle in his eyes like usual. No, this time, all that was there was just…him. Just Satoru.

“I am,” he had said with a genuine finality.

The trickle of warm tears slid down your cheeks, his thumbs swiping softly at the skin. “Good, I’m…I’m happy too.”

Truthfully, you were. Because if you had to let Satoru go, if you had to let him be the man he should be, you knew he was doing it beside a woman that was worth it. She was worth it. And you were beginning to be okay with the fact of being a memory to him, as long as it meant his wishes came true.

You left him, never once looking back, answering his texts or his calls.

You don’t know how you had the strength to do it, how you managed to pull yourself away from the man you’d poured so much of yourself into. There was a time when you thought you’d never be able to let go—when you believed you’d somehow convince him that the life he envisioned with someone else wasn’t worth pursuing. But the truth was, you couldn’t keep holding onto him, not when the weight of your love was slowly suffocating him, not when you knew that he needed to step into a future that wasn’t tied to a past that could never fully be his. You didn’t want to be the one who held him back, no matter how much it hurt.

The hardest part was the silence that came after. You told yourself it was for the best, that you were doing him a favor, letting him breathe, letting him live without your shadow hanging over him. But the quiet was unbearable. Slowly, the hole he left inside you grew wider, the void left by his absence swallowing you whole. It felt like a slow, silent death—a death that had to happen for him to thrive, even if you weren’t ready for it.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

But somehow, that was for the best. He was with her now—his beautiful, young, hopeful future. And you? You were learning to accept the peace that came with being the past. The bittersweet relief of knowing that you had let him go, even when it felt like a piece of you was missing forever. You were learning to find happiness and acceptance with that. But you knew deep down, a part of you would always love him. And that part would remain tucked away, hidden, safe in the quiet recesses of your heart where no one could touch it. Because, no matter how much time passed, no matter how much life moved on, Satoru would always be the one who made you believe in the fleeting beauty of something that could never truly last.

Seven years had passed, and time had etched its marks on both of you. You were different now—wiser, perhaps. Life had moved on, as it always did, carrying you forward in unexpected ways. You found a home in Japan, a little place tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, a perfect reflection of the peace you had slowly cultivated within yourself. It was the kind of home you never thought you'd need after him, but somehow, it filled the emptiness that had lingered for so long.

When you saw him again, it felt like a thousand memories rushed back to you in a single moment. His shock was palpable—eyes wide with disbelief, brows furrowed as if trying to make sense of the woman standing before him. The same Satoru, yet different in small, subtle ways. His features had softened, a few lines around his eyes that spoke of time passing, of laughter shared, of a life fully lived. He was healthy, vibrant, the man you’d once known and the one who had continued his journey without you. "Y/N?" His voice was quiet at first, unsure if this was real or just a figment of his mind. His gaze swept over you as if trying to understand how you could still exist in his life after everything.

And then, he smiled. It wasn’t the same playful grin that had always been there, the one that had once made your heart race. This one was softer, warmer—gentler. It carried the weight of the years apart, but also the familiarity of someone who had once been an integral part of your soul.

And you smiled back again.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, the embrace as natural as it was unexpected. It wasn’t just a hug; it was a reunion, a silent acknowledgment of everything that had passed between you both. For a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling the comforting strength of his hold, the warmth of his body that you once thought you'd never feel again. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, just the undeniable connection that had never truly disappeared. It was as though time had been kind to you both, erasing the pain and replacing it with something softer, something more peaceful.

“Satoru,” you muttered softly, almost in relief.

"You look good," he said softly, pulling away just enough to look at you, his hands lingering on your arms as if testing the reality of this moment.

You feel something cold pressed against your arm, looking down…there’s a golden ring on his left ring finger. Your lips parted with mild surprise before looking up at him with a sense of blitheness. You couldn’t help but chuckle, eyes crinkling in the way he loved—loves. “...is it her?”

He nods, glancing down at your own hand. And look at that; he’s not the only one with a gold ring. “And what about you?’ he asked, a softness in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, bringing your hand up and admiring the band around your finger, the diamond saying hello once more. Memories of your husband’s gruff voice, his frown that he tried so hard to keep etched on his face, the spiky black hair you loved to comb your fingers through, the scar on the corner of his mouth that you loved to kiss. “His name is Toji.”

He nodded with a wave of approval. “How long?”

“Three years. And you?”

“Four.”

You guys laughed simultaneously. The sound of your shared laughter fills the quiet space between you two, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed at all. There’s an ease to it, an old familiarity that you never quite lost, even with the years between you. The weight of everything that had happened—your separation, his journey, your own—seems to melt away, leaving only the lightness of the present moment. It feels almost surreal, standing there with him, both of you changed yet still the same in many ways.

You glance down at your left hand again, the ring catching the sunlight that spills through the window. The cool metal seems to hum with its own kind of quiet significance. Toji.

But now, standing here with Satoru, there’s a strange sense of nostalgia mixed with contentment. You never imagined this—standing side by side with him, sharing your worlds as they are now. When you look up at Satoru, you see the same softness in his eyes that’s always been there, but now it carries with it the weight of time. He has a family, a future that doesn’t include you, and that’s okay. There’s peace in that. He’s found what he was always meant to have, the thing that once felt like an impossibility between you two.

“Four years,” you repeat, your voice soft, taking in the new ring on his finger. “That’s beautiful, Satoru. I’m…I’m so happy for you.”

He grins, that same playful glint in his eyes, but this time it feels like it’s tempered by something deeper, something more sincere. “Yeah,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “She’s incredible. I’m really lucky.”

The warmth that spreads through you isn’t jealousy, or bitterness, or anything like that. It’s something else entirely—pride, maybe. Or relief. You always knew that Satoru was meant for something bigger than what you two could have together, but seeing him happy now, seeing him settled with someone who makes his eyes light up the way they used to with you, it’s the closure you never thought you needed.

“You?” he asks again, as though sensing the unspoken question between you two. His gaze shifts to your hand again, then back up to your face.

The words come out easily now. “He’s my rock,” you say simply, the affection in your voice unguarded. “He makes me better, makes me whole.”

Satoru’s expression softens, and you see the flicker of that old tenderness—the way he used to look at you before everything got complicated. But it’s not painful, this time. It’s not heavy. It’s just… understanding. Like he’s happy that you’ve found that kind of peace. The kind of peace he’s found with her. “You both deserve it,” he says with a nod, as though sealing the quiet approval between you two. “You deserve everything good that comes your way.”

It’s a simple statement, but it carries so much weight. The unspoken acknowledgment that the two of you, after all this time, have moved on, and have created lives for yourselves that reflect who you’ve become. And for all that has happened, all the loss and the love that came and went, there’s something beautiful in knowing that this chapter—this shared history—is now something you both cherish without needing to hold on to.

He invited you over that day and you accepted.

His wife runs up to you, hugging you like you’re an old friend. “Oh my god!” she exclaims in a gasp, her red-tinted lips curved up into a wide smile. You hugged her back, mirroring his reactions. “It’s so great to see you again, Miss. Satoru and I have never forgotten you.”

“Utahime…” he mutters with slight embarrassment.

You chortled and patted her back. “I haven’t forgotten about you too either.”

She pulls back, removing her arms from you. Satoru places a warm arm around her waist and brings her to his side. The display of affection has you melting on the inside, head tilting in fondness. Satoru looks at you. “So, there’s someone we want you to—”

The sound of little pitter-patter against the hardwood cuts him off, all of your attention being dragged to the little girl with white hair and auburn eyes like her moth bounding up to you in excited familiarity. Her tiny gasp as she looks up at you with wide, innocent, twinkling eyes. She looked up at you as if she had known you her whole life, bubbling with a sense of jitteriness, cheeks glowing with a youthful flush. You couldn’t help but crouch down to her height, head tilting. Your eyes glazed over with tears, holding a hand to your mouth to hold back the broken laugh you almost let out at the question she asked you.

“Are you the fairy?”

a/n: this story is inspired by "a love not made for me" by aryana rose. please go hear her speak it, she tells it so beautifully :(((. anywho, thank u guys for 2k really. i love u all and I'm incredibly grateful for all the support and love and patience :))

i couldn't do it without yall. <3

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sc0tters · 16 hours ago

Text

Loved You Forever | Luke Hughes

summary: four times you and luke knew you both wanted more, the one time a move was made, and the one time you both actually remembered it.

request: yes/no

warnings: underaged drinking (if you're american), minimal swearing.

word count: 6.16k

authors note: happy February loves! I realised that this might have been a better valentines day piece but too late? I am actually in love with this piece though and it was seriosuly so much fun to do another 5+1 thing and I'm pretty sure that this is my first proper attempt at it. I am nothing but a slut for best friends to lovers with Luke! After the loss tonight I think we all deserved something sweet so I also think this might be one of my first attempts at tooth rooting of sweet?

Luke had been in your life for as long as you could have remembered.

The two of you met during a day at the park, you had been desperate to be on the seesaw but as your siblings got caught up with Jack and Quinn it left you alone, sat on the one side all by yourself “can I join?” Luke asked pointing at the seat that was in the air.

A grin spread across your face “you wanna sit with me?” You asked almost not believing him “yeah you seem sad.” It seemed that it was all it took for your friendship to be formed.

Hours were spend on that seesaw over the autumn months as you got to know him. You were no longer the sad lonely girl to him, now you were the fun and chatty one who had a dog.

𝟏

You had been a bundle of nerves the entire week.

In the week leading up to prom your dress was in need of alterations and your date had decided that going with the captain of the cheer team was far better suited to his taste than you. Your curling iron had also decided the morning of prom that it was going to stop working.

So while you felt like the world was against you, Luke decided to step him. He had gotten Ellen to drop off a brand new one courtesy of him of course, with a note saying that he couldn’t want to see you that night.

The moment that he learnt about you no longer having a date he changed his own plans, well first he actually did a happy dance because now you were single which he appreciated. But then he told the hockey boys that he was breaking from the pact of going as a group. At first they all gave him stick, but when they learnt it was for you they understood.

Because even if you were totally off limits and so clearly Luke’s girl, they all had eyes as a hormonal teen boy. And you were a total package.

So that was how Luke ended up on what was a date but didn’t feel like it because he felt like your second choice, even if he had never been the one to ask you in the first place. Gosh he had seen all of the cringey proposals online but he knew you would have loved one of those. Something to laugh about afterwards that could be cherished as a memory forever.

Jim placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder pulling him out of this thoughts “you okay bud?” He asked cocking his head as he furrowed his eyebrows “I’m good.” Luke nodded “just worried about the time.” It was a lie but it was enough to take the attention off of him and his thoughts.

Your mom looked at her watch “y/n are you coming down anytime soon!” She called up the stairs fearing that you’d end up late and miss the limo that your friends had arranged after pictures.

You turned down your music as you rolled your eyes. In your opinion you weren’t late, just pulling everything out of your drawers because you couldn’t find the perfect earrings to go with your dress “yeah, yeah I’ll be down there!” You yelled back focusing on what you were doing.

Luke stood between his parents and yours “sorry about her.” Your mom apologised as she softly shook her head, knowing that this was how you were “it’s okay I mean she’s.” Luke was lucky he was cut off because it meant that he didn’t have to come up with an end to his statement.

“I’m ready!” Your words traveled down to the group causing all of their heads to turn to your bedroom door. You were right by the top of the staircase so there wasn’t much of a walk for you before your dress was revealed in all its glory “wow.” Luke thought he had said it softly enough for nobody to hear. But the smile on Jim’s face said it all, he knew his son was in love as he watched you twirl all excited for him to finally see the dress.

The red dress hugged every part of your body that you wanted it to. And now with the alterations your slit showed the right amount of leg, it was enough to look hot but not enough to the point where the dress wouldn’t have been appropriate for a high school prom.

Luke felt his throat grow dry seeing you at the top of the stairs, with a smile painted on your face. You looked gorgeous, in every sense of the word as you radiated this glow that encapsulated your body.

His hands grew sweaty, gripping at your corsages packaging. Watching you walk down the stairs, the sounds of your mom in awe with your dad taking pictures turned to background noise. Luke couldn’t understand how you were panicking about your hairstyle to him at lunch all week, because it seemed like it was made for you.

You stopped on the final step holding your hand out to Luke, enjoying the moment of him in his navy blue suit. It was easy to see that he had just had his hair cut, but you weren’t going to make a comment about it as you appreciated the effort.

Sure you wouldn’t have cared if Luke showed up in jeans and his crocs, but he knew how important the night was to you so he made it important to him. His hand was soft against yours as he helped you down the final step “you look-” he cut himself off, opting to take the chance to bask in your beauty once more.

It made you rub your lips together nodding in agreement “you too.” The sight made Ellen place her hand on her heart. Her youngest son here stood tall and all cleaned up, in front of the girl that his parents wished he’d date.

Luke let out a soft gasp remembering that he was still holding your corsage “this is yours.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, hoping you’d like it “it’s so pretty Lukey.” You held the plastic container in your hands pulling out the pink arrangement.

You handed it back to him “put it on f’me will ya?” You asked watching him nod “sure.” He obliged your request seeing how pretty it looked with your manicured nails.

Your eyes shone looking at it “it’s perfect.” You confessed leaning up to kiss his cheeks “thanks, Lukey.” You gave his arms a squeeze before you settled back in front of him.

He prayed his cheeks didn’t betray him as they felt warm “anytime.” Luke honestly would have done anything to bring that smile out and for you to kiss his cheeks again. Even as he hoped he’d be lucky to kiss you properly one day, he prayed that this wasn’t the last time he’d get to feel one of your kisses.

𝟐

Your high school graduation was not what you expected it to be. Sure you expected to be a little emotional leaving the place that had helped shape you into the person you were set to become. It was the place where Luke cemented his life long place as your best friend.

You held your diploma in your hand as you searched through the crowd for him “y/n!” Luke cheered causing you to whip around.

His smile matched yours as you let out a squeal before you ran into his arms. You almost knocked him over as you laughed “someone’s excited ‘eh?” He let out a soft laugh settling you back on your feet.

He had spent a portion of his afternoon wishing he told you how pretty you looked “I mean how can I not be we have like properly graduated.” If you looked back at the memory now you would have laughed, you felt so prepared for the big world when in actuality you were still so young with so much more growing to do.

Luke smiled “I mean we always knew you were going to.” Brains had always been your thing, much more than Lukes at least.

You looked at the athletics band around his shoulders “and you got this.” You toyed with the ends of it in your hands “I think we both should be proud today.” You had succeeded in your own fields, reminding each other why you did so well as friends because you were so different.

Luke could see that something else was on your mind “what is it?” He asked, seeing that there was a glimmer of excitement like you were trying to hold back a bomb of importance. You felt like a child who had been trying their best to hold off on telling the secret they promised their parents that they would keep to themselves.

You pulled the grad cap off of your head as you took in a deep breath “remember how I told you that I wasn’t sure where I was going because of those scholarship applications?” You were the more academically inclined out of the two of you, to the extent that you did have a good chance to get some scholarships.

This was why you hadn’t decided where exactly you were going, so Luke hadn’t been told of any of the places that had accepted you. This was the first and last time that you were ever going to be holding a secret from him, the last few weeks felt like your very own definition of torture “so you remember how we applied to some of the same schools?” You asked, reminding him that three schools appeared on both of your lists.

He nodded, raising his eyebrows and urging you to continue, “well one of those schools was UMich, and I got in.” Luke let out a gasp, knowing exactly where this conversation was about to go “yes?” He urged you to carry on so he didn’t celebrate prematurely.

You rubbed your lips together “well how do you feel about getting an apartment roomie?” It had been a conversation since you were both eight years old, if you went to uni together, then you were going to be roommates to some degree.

Luke finally allowed himself to cheer as he pulled you into a hug. He spun you around as he let himself celebrate the news “I can’t believe that we are staying together.” He was honestly in shock as he finally placed you back on the ground.

In the distance stood your mom and Ellen, who watched the interaction unfold in front of them “I wonder if this is what they need to take a step forward.” Everyone but the two of you knew about the undeniable feelings between you both. They knew it was asking for a lot, though, because you two had been around each other for so long that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be and maybe that was okay.

Ellen smiled as she watched Luke grab your hand before he pulled you into a group of people “I think that maybe they are only going to be friends.” She let out a sigh as the words left her lips. Boy did she hope that the two of you proved her wrong.

𝟑

Luke had yet to come down from the high that was being drafted to the same team as Jack. He was absolutely ecstatic and having you there too was the perfect moment for him. His family had all come along and they mixed with his friends, every one of his supporters were in that room.

He almost got emotional when he thought about it because none of you had to come, not to the bar afterwards and not to the draft itself either. But when his name was called by the New Jersey Devils Luke just remembered pulling you into this hug as Jack hit his back in excitement.

You were his absolute best friend and world so it was never a surprise that Luke hugged you first but still fans had been going on about how Luke basically blanked his future teammate at first. People who followed Luke’s days at Michigan knew who you were, if someone listened to Luke talk for long enough you were brought up in a conversation. And it wasn’t that it was weird for him but it was because you did everything with him so away from the ice, you were attached to every memory.

But for the people who hadn’t paid attention, you were the mystery girlfriend in their eyes. So you were also now the new target of everyone’s Instagram searches. Their comments to you saying they wished they were Luke’s girlfriend made you laugh, because you felt the same way. His name had been circled with hearts in the corners of your notebook pages. They were left in the math and English books because you knew that was where Luke would never have looked.

Luke would never have admitted it aloud but he knew whenever you weren’t in a room. The sound of your laugh burning at his ears, how you seemed to radiate this sense of light and warmth that could be felt through the room. He had been caught up in a conversation with his parents friends when he had lost that feeling.

It was clear to them that Luke had his mind somewhere else, or well they knew it was with someone else so they let him go. You were nowhere to be seen as his eyes scanned the crowded bar “she’s out front I think Lukey!” Jack slurred his words clearly drunk but still knowing all too predictable his younger brother was.

Luke felt his cheeks grow warm as his eyes went wide “relax dude, just go to her.” Jack laughed as he rolled his eyes, not caring about it before he went off again.

He tried to make it subtle to anyone who watched but Luke headed straight for the door where he of course found you. You were still in his devils cap as he put it on you when he finished his media interviews. An awful attempt at a joke was made when he said that you could be a player now too.

It looked so good on you as he smiled “there you are.” It was like a weight off of his shoulders when he found you.

You were in your own little world before you looked at him “shouldn’t you be inside?” You asked as you cocked your head “this is a party for you after all.” Luke rolled his eyes, turning the cap around so that he could see your face not covered by the lid of the cap.

He leaned against the wall next to you “I wanted to be with you though.” You blushed at the words, your hand reached for his “I just wanted a bit of air is all.” You explained putting his mind at ease as he had worried that you were overwhelmed.

You licked your lips “I’m proud of you tonight.” The confession made his ears ring as his head felt fuzzy “all I did was get drafted.” Luke always was one to downplay his achievements, but you never let him succeed.

A laugh escaped from you lips “Lukey you were drafted fourth and to your brothers team.” You reminded him in a duh tone “you’re actually gonna be an NHL player now.” It had been his dream for as long as he could speak, from the moment you turned seven it even had a space on your vision board cementing itself in the right hand corner. That’s how much you knew he was getting into the big leagues.

Luke looked up at the night sky before he let out a sigh “god everything is going to change isn’t it?” He chewed at the inside of his cheek feeling your eyes piercing into his soul.

The words echoed in your ears as you pushed off of the wall before you stood in front of him. Things didn’t need to change, in fact you didn’t want them to.

You smiled as you held your pinky out to him “what is this?” He asked mimicking your movements “a promise that I will always be with you.” Your voice was sweet as you nodded.

Luke knew he was wrong but part of him thought about how beautiful you looked in the light, how kissable your lips looked too “forever and ever?” Luke cocked his head letting a grin spread across his lips.

Your heart throbbed at the thought, you wanted Luke around for all that time and more “forever and ever.” You agreed locking your pinky into his before you both kissed your thumbs.

The gesture seemed small but it was something that you both could agree on. For you and Luke, it meant that the promise was written in the stars as if you had written it on sand. With every passing wave that came in with the tide, the message still stood.

𝟒

Luke hated the fact that he was leaving soon. He knew that his time with you at university was always going to have an expiration date, but he never thought it was going to come so soon.

You two spent all of your life together, often moving within six months of the other. So now if he really was leaving you then it felt like this was the last time.

Your paths had always been one of the same, with both of you never straying far away from the other. Luke had gotten so used to you being around that the only person who he was worried about leaving was you.

Life had always been the y/n and Luke party that he didn’t know how you were going to react if he left you “what’s going on in that mind of yours?” You asked finding him sat by himself.

He smiled seeing you stumble in his direction “I am just thinking.” He confessed watching you sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

A giggle escaped from your lips “ain’t that dangerous.” Those words made him scoff as his eyebrows furrowed.

You seemed so care free in that moment, it made him envy you. How did it all seem so easy for you as he felt like his head was barely above water, drowning with worry “I am kidding.” You rubbed his cheek against your thumb “what are you thinking about?” You asked urging him to let you into his thoughts.

Your hand squeezed his cheek reminding him that you were there for him “what if I don’t make the right call going.” Luke felt that a weight was lifted off of his shoulders letting that confession slip “I think that the universe is going to put you in the best position for you long term.” You truly believed that everything happened for a reason, so if the agent did come and ask Luke to join the devils like you knew they would, then it was the right thing for him.

It seemed that you always knew what to say to him “and what do you think I should do-” Luke hugged you not taking a chance to let him finish “you are going.” You stopped him from trying to hug you.

He raised his eyebrows “I am?” Your tone made him think you were going to be forcing him onto that plane if you had to.

Luke ran his fingers through your hair “y’know I’m happy that you’re going.” Your confession made him furrow his eyebrows “you are?” He cocked his head as he had of course told you all about the possibility of being signed the moment he learnt the agents were coming to Florida.

You nodded sending him a smile “I mean this had been your dream like forever and Jack will be happy to have you there.” Your explanation calmed his heart, practically brushing the worries from his mind “and how do you feel about it?” The two of you were feeling a little more open tonight as you had a bit too much vodka sprite in your system to think clearly.

A sigh escaped your lips “honestly I’m gonna miss you.” It was the first time you actually admitted that “but it makes me so happy that you get to live out your dream.” Your hand ran along his shoulder.

A smile formed on his face “I love you.” He blurted out unaware of the ramifications it could have had “I love you too.” You mumbled kissing his cheek.

Luke frowned knowing that you didn’t acknowledge what he meant, he was in love with you.

𝟓

Christmas with the Hughes family was something that you had always loved. It seemed to be a family tradition for you too as you always seemed to crack a nod to the event.

Selfishly you loved that it was in Michigan, the short drive from campus meant that it was where you spent the first half of your Christmas break. Your parents came down to them and then brought you back home afterwards and it was the perfect little routine.

This Christmas felt particularly refreshing as you had missed Luke, it was the first Christmas since he made the move to New Jersey and it meant that you two were forced to pack everything into the days he had off. Years of perfectly crafted Christmas traditions forced into three days that you usually put into two weeks.

The days felt jam packed not that you or Luke cared, the only time you weren’t with each other was when you went to the bathroom. Nights he had home were spent talking to you until the sun played peek a boo in the curtains.

Christmas night was by far your favourite highlight though, matching sweaters with Luke and eating so much that you were in a food coma. But this year something felt different, you couldn’t put your finger on it and part of you didn’t want to acknowledge it.

You were never one to push out of your comforts and you just assumed that Luke would share the details of his life if he wanted to “will you excuse me for just a sec?” You asked cutting off one of Quinn’s old friends as you saw Luke heading up the stairs.

The boy shot you a smile and motioned to you to go. Nobody ever needed to look hard into the relationship, you looked at Luke like he was the man who made the moon and the stars that sprinkled around the universe. It may not have been the case but he was the light of your universe and the stars of your eyes.

Jack and Quinn couldn’t help but watch, softly elbowing each other as they knew it was only you and Luke up there “think they’re finally gonna do it?” Jack asked sipping at the eggnog from his cup.

Quinn pursed his lips together “I think it’s been a little too long for that.” The captain craved to be proven wrong, this was probably the first and the last time he touch of that really.

You saw Luke on his phone “hey,” your voice was soft wanting to check up on him “oh hi.” Luke smiled turning around to see you.

His phone got tucked into his back pocket “thought you were going to still be downstairs.” He added, having had watched you talk away with that boy most of the recent hour.

But you shook your head “I wanted to check on up on you.” The act was something meant to be innocent, like it always was. Because you cared for him, this was the what you were meant to do, and what you had always done.

It made him smile “look if you want a quiet day tom-” you were almost immediately cut off “I actually just want to spend time with you alone.” Luke explained making your heart feel so full.

You loved the way that he had with words even if you envied him, it made it so much easier falling in love with him “so you wanna stay up here for a bit?” The request made you nod, taking his hand with a squeeze as the two of you took the three step walk to his room.

His door opened letting the mistletoe drop from the frame that was only seen when the lights turned on, causing your eyes to go wide “shit.” Luke grumbled as it sat between the two of you. It was like a sign from the universe, begging for one of you to put it out of its misery.

The mistletoe stood above the two of you, shining like it was sent from the gods to put you both out of your misery “we don’t have to.” Luke felt his jaw go slack, not wanting to make you uncomfortable as you stared up at the leaf fixture “Jack thought it was funny to put it there.” He added remembering how he was actually planning on removing it the night before.

Oh how different that night would have turned out if he had.

A dry laugh left your lips “who are we to go against an age old tradition?” You asked letting your eyes lock onto his “are you sure?” Luke studied how plump your lips were and god he just wanted to kiss them.

You ran your fingers over the knitted fabric that was your Christmas sweater “I feel like I should be asking you that?” You shot back slightly raising your eyebrows as you felt that he was trying to tell you something in a softer way.

Oh god no, he thought to himself shaking his head “I do wanna kiss you!” The panic escaped in his voice, doing little to help his nerves as his heart and mouth betrayed his brain “but only if you want to kiss me too.” The boy straightened his shirt with a cough attempting to block the embarrassment that came over his cheeks.

You smiled with a nod “I wanna kiss you Lukey.” Your head buzzed as you drunk one too many vodka cranberries that night.

His hand cupped your cheek as he nodded “and we agree that this won’t make anything awkward right?” His words made you roll your eyes. Sure you knew he was being cautious and you should have appreciated how much he cared for your feelings, but god you just wanted to kiss him.

So that’s what you did, you wrapped your arms around his neck so that you could bring him down to you. The move took the boy by surprise as he steadied himself placing his other hand on your hip. His lips were rough against yours, reminding you that you needed to buy him a chapstick he’d actually like.

Luke always knew that your lips were going to taste good, but he never could have predicted that you could have taste that sweet. It caused this buzzing sense in his head that only stopped when you pulled away just as the sound of footsteps came from the stairs “oh good mom you found it!” Quinn called out going back downstairs.

You drank in the sight of Luke, your lip gloss shone on his lips as he fiddled with his hair “I guess we should go back down?” Luke asked with a shrug as you nodded “maybe just-” you brought your thumb to his lip. Brushing your finger against his lip to collect the product from his lips “there.” You took a step back with a smile seeing that there was now no evidence of the fact that you had kissed him.

The only issue with this kiss was that neither one of you would remember it. Well you both it, but because it was what you had longed for, it felt like a dream. And with the fear of rejection creeping up your neck like an uncontrollable rash, it was best to keep it all to yourselves.

Because after all how does one ask someone if they really did kiss last night?

+𝟏

The crackling noises of the burning wood echoed in your ears as you stared at the campfire “you should talk to her.” Quinn’s voice was soft, somehow still startling Luke who stood by the cooler.

His hand gripped at the new beer can “why would I do that?” Luke asked, adjusting his gaze to make out that he wasn’t looking at you “are we seriously going to do this again?” Quinn couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

He had spent what felt like Luke’s whole life watching the both of you dance around your feelings. Luke’s lips turned upright into a smile at the sound of your laughter, which made his heart bloom with joy, but that was short-lived when he saw Jack being the cause of what you found so funny.

Luke’s lips were quickly forced into a thin line as his hand tightened around his drink “Luke, Jack is the last guy that she would ever go for.” Quinn reminded his brother, placing his hand on his taller brothers back.

It made the Devils player furrow his eyebrows “you don’t know that.” Everyone in fact knew that, Jack was the kind of man that you would have ended up killing if you had to live with him for the rest of your life. Hell even Luke knew it, but he was willing to forget about the logic. He never seemed ready to acknowledge that there was a chance you could like him back.

A whine escaped your lips “y’know lying is just mean right?” You sunk back into your chair “yeah well I ain’t lying.” Jack shot back rolling his eyes.

You clearly didn’t believe the boy as your arms crossed “fine look at them right now and if he isn’t then I will shut up.” Jack clasped his hands together as if a lightbulb had turned on above him. You sighed sending him a nod as you turned your body back to the porch, allowing your eyes to scan the area for Luke. The boy cut himself off in the conversation with Quinn when your eyes locked with his “this means nothing.” You mumbled still in denial.

It honestly should have been so obvious to you both, I mean everyone around you both noticed but the two of you.

The night carried on with you trying to ignore Jacks comments as Luke did the same. Cole let out a yawn as he blinked “I think it is time for bed.” He announced placing his hands in his thighs as he got up watching a few of the guys agree with him.

As the last two besides for you and Luke, Quinn patted Jacks shoulders “why don’t we head up to bed too?” He asked, barely giving his younger brother a chance to say no. Jack was pulled up as he sent you both a salute “don’t stay up too la-” his tease was cut off when Quinn slapped his hand over Jacks mouth.

Luke watched Quinn and Jack walk back into the house before he turned back to see you smiling at him “what?” Luke asked pushing his curls out of his eyes.

He worried that he had something on his face “why don’t you come sit with me?” You offered, patting the camping chair next to you. It felt weird having him sat on what felt like the other side of the fire, he was way too far away from you for your own liking “do I have to?” Luke let out this dramatic sigh letting you know he was messing with you as he got up.

It was nice just being alone with him away from just your bedroom. Since he moved to New Jersey you really did appreciate the one on one time that you got with him “I’m glad you came this year.” Luke confessed finally taking his place in the chair next to you.

You rested your head against the back of your chair “I’ll always come for you.” Your hand reached for his wanting to reassure him “unfortunately for you the return policy on this friendship is long expired so you’re like really stuck with me.” You spoke in a serious tone that made him laugh.

Luke squeezed your hand “darn I was just figuring out how to write my reason for returning ya.” You reached out to hit him “and what was that going to be?” You cocked your head running your tongue along your teeth as you smirked.

He felt his heart pound sitting closer to you “don’t think it makes a lot of sense yet.” Luke shook his head, not having an actual answer for you.

The crackle of the fire served as the perfect background noise “well you’ve got to speak now or else you might really be stuck with me.” You pointed out sticking your tongue out at him making the boy grin as he shook his head.

Truthfully he was never going to return you, hell it was going to have to be you returning him if anything. Even then he was not going to leave you without a fight to stay.

Luke ran his fingers along your jaw “I think coming to Jersey would be good for you.” He knew it was one of your options for what you’d do after you graduated “oh god are we gonna be those friends who end up living next to each other and raise their kids together?” You laughed opting to cover the nerves that coarsed through your veins.

It made the boy shake his head “can I tell you something?” He asked sucking at his teeth “you know you can tell me anything.” You nodded ignoring how close your face was to his.

Luke could hear Jack and Quinn in his mind screaming at him to finally stop being such a baby and just tell you how he felt “and it can’t change our friendship.” You now grew worried at words “you’re scaring me.” That was also what Luke didn’t want.

So before he dug himself into a hole he just decided to jump off of the decision cliff he was on “I like you.” The words escaped from his lips “so when you talk about us living next to each other with our families it’s not nice.” He shook his head watching you listen.

But he didn’t stop there “and it kills me that you don’t feel the same-””you think I don’t like you?” You asked letting out a laugh as he nodded.

You threw your head back shaking your head “oh god Luke I’m mad about you.” The words were meant to be innocent but they lit a fire under his ass “but then why do you talk about us raising separate families together?” Luke scoffed almost thinking that this was a dream and you were joking.

But still it was your turn to explain to him “I thought that it was all I’d get.” You shrugged feeling your cheeks grow warm.

Under the moonlight as the fire illuminated your face, you looked beautiful “can I kiss you?” The question was something you had wanted to hear for such a long time now “yeah.” You nodded with a grin dropping your head as he cupped your cheek so that you could kiss him.

The kiss had you swearing that fireworks should have been going off around you guys. The boy was sweet letting the taste of whatever lipgloss you wore make him feel drunk. Was it vanilla? Or maybe even cherry? Well he didn’t really care, it taste good and he was getting to kiss you.

Jack and Quinn stood in the kitchen watching with smiles on their faces “who would have thought that it would take them this long to finally get together?” He laughed shaking his head “I am just glad that we don’t have to put up with another summer of these two and their puppy dog glances.” Quinn shuddered at the thought, mentally cringing at the idea of having to listen to Luke psych himself out of telling you how he felt.

But what both boys forgot, was that when you have been in love with someone for so long, when you finally get them you enjoy it “oh god.” Jack slapped his hand over his mouth watching Luke pull you onto his lap.

His hands cupped your ass, deepening the kiss as you were addictive to Luke “and just like that it got weird.” Quinn announced listening to Jack agree as they shut the blind of the kitchen window, opting to finally give you both some privacy.

#amber writes fics #luke hughes oneshots #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfic #nhl one shot #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagines #hockey one shots #hockey fic #hockey oneshot

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prettycopperpennies · 1 day ago

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They Take Care Of/Comfort You When You're Sick

Anonymous asked:

Could I request a Squid Game preference (with the usual characters) where the reader has a cold/fever or something and they take care of them, or vice versa?

Squid Games x GN!Reader

Including: The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho | Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong | Player 388/Kang Dae-ho | Player 333/Lee Myung-gi | The Recruiter

The Frontman/Player 001/Hwang In-ho

~Hwang In-ho would hear the sniffles when you called asking for a favor and he would immediately check in on you

~”Darling are you alright?”

~Even over the phone he would be able to clock you were sick before you asked him to bring you cold medicine

~You could tell him all you wanted not to worry, to just bring it whenever he was free, but he would drop everything to come over. As he showed up within half an hour you would know he had done just that

~You could try to apologize or insist he didn’t need to go out of his way for you. You could have waited till he was free

~But as he tucked a hair behind your ear, your guilty resolve would quickly melt away

~He would mean every word, and wouldn’t hear anything against it. You can’t keep him away when you need help. Even if the situation is as lowkey as a simple cold

~”How do you expect me to get anything done when I know you’re here suffering?”

~If you warned him you might get him sick, he would still keep the same attitude: insisting he wanted to be there for you

~Every soothing smile and gentle hand on your back, arm, shoulder would weaken your argument. You both knew you wanted him to stay

~You would end up asleep in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder

~And he would be happy to pamper you through your cold

Player 333/Lee Myung-gi

~He would notice your red nose and fever flushed cheeks and would immediately feel a little tug on his heart

~No matter how much you insisted he should stay away because you didn’t want to get him sick, he would be able to tell you really didn’t mean it. He knew you well enough to be able to clock when you didn’t want to be left alone

~You two would end up on opposite ends of the couch, as a feeble attempt to keep himself healthy, playing video games

~But thanks to your cold your mind would be too foggy to really focus, and after the millionth time losing at Mario Kart you would finally quit

~You’d make him change the video game over and over again, not liking how much energy each took. He’d go along with it, not complaining.

~You had no idea the amount of power you had on him at that moment. He wouldn't be able to say no to anything you wanted, feeling too bad for how miserable you seemed thanks to your cold

~It would be awhile before you admitted you actually wanted to sit and watch him play something instead

~As time would go on, he wouldn’t be able to ignore your sad, sick state from the other side of the couch. You would finally notice his state when he sighed loudly. You could ask him what was wrong, but he would only answer by pulling you onto his lap.

~”You’ll get sick.” “Yeah, I know.”

~You’d smile as he rested his head atop your own and wrapped his arms around you to keep playing the video game.

~If he noticed you getting at all amused by him finally caving, he would of course have to defend himself

~”You were sitting there looking miserable! It’s emotional blackmail.”

Player 230/Thanos/ Choi Su-bong

~Choi Su-Bong would come and get you the second you called, no matter where you were or what he was doing.

~He couldn’t be able to stop himself from getting anxious when you first called; sniffling, telling him you feel awful, and you need a ride

~He would show up in a matter of minutes. It would be so quick you could only presume he had sped to get to you. Of course, you’d already be feeling better as he smiled at you from the driver’s seat through the front window

~If you apologized, explaining you didn’t feel good enough to drive or didn’t want to take the bus, but he would shut that down immediately

~”Baby, I’ll come get you whenever.”

~He’d hold your hand the whole ride. It didn’t matter if he was driving with one hand or two, he wouldn’t ever signal (it was an argument you two had a million times). So you would let him intertwine his fingers with your own as you two would make it home

~He would of course make a pit stop along the drive at your guilty pleasure bakery. He would keep the car running after noticing your shivering so you could keep the heat going as you waited for him to come back

~Within minutes you would have a bag of baked goods on your lap as the two of you went home

~If you want medicine you’d have to remind him to grab that along the way too. Su-bong wanted to help you feel better, but the logical approach is not necessarily at the front of his mind

~If your cold got to you, and suddenly you were tearing up over how nice he would find it amusing. You would be met with a large smile and a laugh

~”You’re weepy when your sick”

~After some lighthearted teasing he’d wrap a hand around the base of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. You’d try to warn him, but he’d of course say he didn’t care

~And you both would spend the next few days getting over a cold together

Player 388/Kang Dae-ho

~Kang Dae-ho would come over the second you called asking for his company while you tried to get over your cold

~”I think I’m getting sick. Maybe… Do you think you could come over? I don’t want to be alone.”

~He would be at your place even before you hung up, which wouldn't surprise you even a little. What would surprise you even less is the arm fulls of cough drops and the tea he brought with him

~You wouldn’t have a chance to get out of bed before he was wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You would be lifted up a little bit as he tightened his grip around you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck

~”You definitely have a fever”

~Your close proximity would let him feel the fever radiating off you. He wouldn’t care though, immediately following up the hug by telling you to scoot over

~He would wrap an arm around your shoulder, telling you that you were stuck with him all day

~And he would stay true to his word. He would be hanging around, making you warm/good for you food, watching popcorn movies, and whatever else he could think might make you feel better/distract you

~Every time you reacted to his sweet gestures with even the most miniscule of happiness, he would feel immensely pleased with his efforts and how it was making you feel at least a little better

~And by the time night rolled around you wouldn’t really need to convince him. He’d stay over, more than happy to appease you in your clingy state

The Recruiter

~As soon as he finds out your sick he’d be showing up to bring you to his house

~He’d find it very amusing if you warned him you would definitely get germs all over his house. He would point out you did get in his car, so how worried could you really be?

~Either way, warnings or not, you would end up on his couch buried under blankets with your guilty pleasure tv show playing

~He would be lounging on the other side of the couch, his arm resting across the back, and biting back a smile as he pretending not to notice how often your gaze wandered over to him

~He knew how clingy you could get when you were sick, but he couldn't help but wonder if you would admit it yourself if he was patient enough

~And eventually you would mention you were cold, and he would offer more blankets or to turn up the heat. You’d give excuses for every offer till he would finally ask you flat out if you had anything specific in mind

~As you refused to cave with a sniffle and a “I guess not”, he would be the one to fold. He couldn't watch you suffer through a cold and pout on the other side of the couch

~He’d be pulling you over to cuddle, letting you bury him in your blankets as well, with an amused chuckle over how you absolutely did not fight it

~”But you don’t want me to get sick, right?”

~If you feigned innocence or pretended not to hear him over the tv show, he wouldn’t call you out further. He wouldn't’ have it in him to argue with you (even playfully) when you feel so under the weather

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sometimesanalice · 3 days ago

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Oh I adore getting your reblogs! It's always so fun getting to read someone's thoughts about things! But I'm also so happy that you enjoyed this one!

more for you!

Many thoughts...

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

I can 100% see that-- that man never stood a chance! he likes to play the game, especially when the girl he's interested in is leading the way 🤭

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

Yeah, let's show it off 😌-- he's such a slut (affectionate)! but if you ask him he'd just say he's a feminist and doing it for the female gaze, lmao

He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

A man on a mission-- my favorite little attention whore

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

Lmao that would be funny though 😅-- maybe next time, lmaooo. but also he knows what he's bringing to the able and backs himself all the way, he's not afraid of a little competition (not that there is any, haha)

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

Oh, we all know 😅-- the cockwalk alone deserved an oscar

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.” “Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?” “Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.” “You mean Bagman?” “Yeah, that sounds right.”

A woman teasing Jake? Bradley is probably thinking about proposing right then and there😅-- the easiest way to win over bradley bradshaw is to dunk on jake at any given opportunity, lol

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.” You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings.

😌🤭😌🤭-- she's got him soooo wrapped around her finger, and good for her it's what she deserves!

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type. Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Definitely not his fault 🤷🏻‍♀️😅-- he's innocent your honor!

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?” His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it. “I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

His hat has probably been worn by multiple women before 🤭-- that hat has definitely seen some action that's for sure, lmao. and who he is who deny anyone who wants to try it on for size 🤭

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

That's so cute 😍-- he doesn't often get to share this side of things so indepthly with anyone, he's definitely not missing his moment here!

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear. “Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue. He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

There always has to be a first time 😌-- the man likes to live on the edge! the adrenaline rush of it all! plus everyone else is busy, and it is called the ready room after all haha

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.” “Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat. “I’m trying to,” you whine.

Oh I bet he does 🤭🤤-- we all know that man doesn't half ass anything and we thank him for his service!

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

🤭🤭🤭-- she's definitely made a lasting impression on him!

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Ahhhh omg-- i love a good twist!! and this one is one of my favorites!! 🤭🤭🤭

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week. He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating. Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

Love that they both met each other's partners on the same night out 😅-- i ended up writing about the night they met! if you ever want to read it it's called "wildest dreams"! it's another cheeky and fun one, but I loved getting to explore just what happened the night they met!

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you. “It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

Oh he is so in love🥰-- he's so down bad!

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

^^ the most perfect gif in existence, lmao. they're both go getters ahahahaha

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.”

Facts 🤷🏻‍♀️-- i wouldn't mind getting a return on my taxes this way, just saying... lol

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

Wear that SPF!!-- my fav hc is that he's always getting sunburnt because he just doesn't have the patience to put it on.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom.

Ahh I loved all of this so much 🥰-- i'm so happy you liked it!! thank you for reading!!

Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up.

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em! 💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Keep reading

#thank you for reading and reblogging!#the babe with the summer whites

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kitkat13001 · 3 days ago

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞

⤷ eijirou kirishima x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, kiri implied to be taller than reader, inspired the song “look after you” by the fray

compassion is second nature to eijirou kirishima. he’s always willing to lend a helping hand, no protest and no questions asked.

he’s the ‘bro’ friend, the big-brother of the group standing over you all like a shield. they don’t call him the sturdy hero for nothing.

he’s saved your life plenty of times, common in your line of work. but most often the things kirishima saves you from aren’t as big as falling buildings or supervillains.

he always carries an extra hoodie for you in case you get cold. he makes sure everyone drinks water on the weekend group hikes. he always, always offers to share his snacks and insists even when you refuse.

he texts you to make sure you got home safe, even when he’s the one who drove or walked you.

for god’s sake, this is the man that sprinted two blocks to a corner store to buy tweezers when you got a splinter one time a few years ago.

you wonder sometimes how a heart as big as his even fits in his broad chest.

every other weekend bakugou insists on dragging everyone out for a hike because he can’t catch up with you all over dinner like a normal person and needs to do something active.

today’s hike had taken longer than you’d originally thought. bakugou got a little too ambitious with his destination, and then mina and denki had wandered off the trail, and then sero twisted his ankle chasing after them.

it’s nighttime now, and everyone’s been dropped off. you’re the last stop, sitting in the passenger seat of eijirou’s car and wondering how long you can linger without it being weird.

you sigh after a long moment of sitting in peaceful silence with the faint radio music, finally moving to get out of the car.

“night, kiri,” you say in the voice of someone who really doesn’t want to say goodnight.

he moves when you move, clambering out of the drivers seat with a little smile. “i’ll walk you up.”

you stop, meeting his big crimson eyes. “it’s a ten foot walk to the door.”

“yeah.”

“you could just watch me from here, y’know?”

he shrugs, coming around to your side of the car. “‘s no big deal.”

you can feel the warmth coming off his body from when he’s standing next to you. you’re staring up at him curiously, and he blinks down at you.

“i can see your breath,” he chuckles, taking his scarf off and wrapping it around you loosely while you stand there, stunned. his hands linger on the fabric, warm on your shoulders as he beams down at you.

“eiji, don’t you ever get tired of looking after everyone?” you ask after a minute, walking up to the door at his side.

kirishima hums thoughtfully, thinking on it for a second. “i mean, maybe sometimes i guess? but not really, ‘cause i look after the people i care about. so it’s not really work for me, y’know?”

“but don’t you ever want someone to look after you?” you’re at the door now, but you don’t want to go inside just yet.

“you do,” he replies with a little smile, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you blink, stunned by the revelation.

“you always check up on me. text me good morning and good night. make sure i rest when i’ve been working too hard. carpool front seat so i don’t have to drive alone in the night.” he’s ticking them off on his fingers, an indescribable fondness in his voice. “and besides,” he adds cheerfully, “seeing you happy always has me feeling brand-new.”

you stare up at him with big, soft eyes. “kirishima, i love you.”

he laughs bashfully, scratching at his neck. “yeah, man, i love you too.”

“no, eiji, like i love you.”

he looks at you, meeting your loving gaze. his cheeks darken, and he looks almost nervous. “you…you do?”

you don’t dignify him with a spoken answer. you try to put any words you might’ve strung together into the kiss you pull him in for, clutching at his jacket to bring him down.

he almost gasps into your mouth, but after a moment he’s cradling your face in big, careful hands like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

he’s grinning when you pull away, eyes like melting rubies. “i love you, too. but i think maybe you knew that already.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/anitalenia — one hug from kirishima could fix all my problems. no further comments.

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hamilando · 2 days ago

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ੈ✩ final island (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x reader

tw : fluff; suggestive, tiny tiny angst, jealousy love island coupling, mentions of other celebs as cast,

fc : Jung HoYeon

a/n : I REALLY HOPE Y’ALL LIKE THIS, THIS IS THE FINALE OF LOVE ISLAND

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2 and 2,465,926 others

loveislanduk AND THEY WERE DUNKED ! EP IS OUT NOW !

view comments

user1 BAHAHA JUDE GETTING DUMPED IN WATER

user2 when yn was asked to name the most attractive guy in the island and she didn’t even take a second to respond to lando’s name -

user3 the episode was just yn ignoring Jude for the 100th time

user4 shout out to Lando’s partner, she knows he is taken and is respectfully maintaining her distance

user5 Lando and her are so cute friends

user6 can’t believe instead of grafting, the girl is giving tips on how to sneak to meet yn-

user7 JUDE CANT EVEN GET Y/N’S FAVOURITE COLOUR WHILE LANDO HAS LITERALLY MEMORISED “Pantone 1617-TCX Burgundy”

user8 can’t believe the finale is here 😭

user9 I DONT WANT THIS TO END

user10 just propose already lando

liked by user1, user2 and 3,126,927 others

loveislanduk MOVIE NIGHT BEFORE THE FINAL RECOUPLING

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user1 LANDO ASKED YN TO BE HIS GIRLFRIEND

user2 WHILE SHE PAIRED WITH JUDE -

user3 now this is what I am paying my bills for

user4 SHE SAID YESSSS

user5 the look on the girls- they are all so happy for her

user6 judes sulking so much

user7 as he should !!

user8 but fr, the way jude has been cheating, thank God is was all shown in the video

user9 the girl talk on thong size-

user10 the embarrassed faces of the girls 🔝

liked by user1, user2 and 2,365,245 others

loveislanduk YN CHOSE LANDO !!

view comments

user1 we are going to pretend it was a surprise?

user2 he literally asked her out

user3 the tears of joy of finally being together

user4 NO MORE JUDE

user5 the hug made me feel good lonely i am

user6 they make me believe reality shows aren't that bad

user7 i swear they are going to win

user8 as much as they might win, i think the other couple might win

user9 true, they didn't have much drama ( THANKS JUDE )

user10 well at least they are together!!!

liked by user1, user2 and 1,347,378 others

lando that 50k is going to the bachelor party

view comments

user1 THEY WON

user2 I HAVE NEVER SEEN LANDO CRY SOO MUCH

user3 THEY WAY LANDO IMMEDIATELY Kept THE BALL, SAYING HE CHOSE YN OVER MONEY

charlesleclerc welcome to the paddock yn!!!

liked by lando

user4 NEW WAG IN THE HOUSE !!!

user5 it was all over too soon

user6 LANDO PLEASE BUY SHIRTS

user7 yn, please buy him shirts

user8 I swear I have forgotten the last time I saw him with a shirt

user9 their height difference is cute, idk why people not talk about it

user10 YN IS TALLER THAN LANDO 😭

liked by user1, user2 and 1,463,836 others

sojuyn 4 months with my number 4

comments on this post have been turned off

let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @nichmeddar @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee

fic tg: @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast

@teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan

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roanniom · 15 hours ago

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There's Something About You

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, handjob, dirty talk, inexperienced!Eddie

If one thing is for certain, it's that Eddie has no idea how he's found himself here. In the bedroom of a cheerleader honor student goddess who shouldn't even know he exists. Yes, you've smiled at him from a distance in class. From time to time he's caught you giving him a little wave from across the cafeteria. But to be quite honest with himself, Eddie always assumed you were fucking with him. Throw a wink at the school freak and watch him get an embarrassingly unprovoked boner.

Yet here you were. Sitting next to him on your bed - disarmingly pink and covered in soft cushions and frills and all things girly and diametrically opposed to all that is Eddie Munson. Dark and crass and bumbling and weird Eddie Munson.

"If you flunk out of Mr. Flout's class one more time, what's going to happen to you?" you had asked him casually earlier in the day as you'd walked by him staring at his test marked with a big red F. Eddie had looked up at you, shock quickly melting into an indifferent smirk.

"There's always trade school, baby," he'd shrugged and thrown up a peace sign.

That was when you suggested he come by your place that evening for tutoring.

Eddie is no fool. He knows what girls like you want. So he'd made sure to come equipped with his trusty lunch pail full of treats that would take the edge off being Miss Perfect / Daddy's Little Girl / Goody Two Shoes - whatever mantle it was that you wished to pluck off your head and cast gently aside for one blissful night. He assumed maybe a downer, maybe an upper, maybe a combo of both. He didn't know you well enough to assume. You seemed happy enough when skipping down the halls with your gaggle of friends, but maybe there was a secret side of you that wanted to disappear. You seemed focused when you were working on papers or quizzes in your shared classes with Eddie, but maybe you needed something that would give you that much more of an edge. Something to help you lock in.

Or maybe you just wanted to be able to turn your brain off for a bit. Eddie knew what that was like.

Sitting in your room now, however, Eddie was less sure. You hadn't closed the door behind him and immediately asked to check out the merchandise. You hadn't proffered up cash in an attempt to speed along a transaction. Instead you'd sat him down with a textbook and a notepad and actually started studying. It was weird. Eddie wasn't used to this kind of drug dealer foreplay. He assumed you were just nervous, though, so after a while, he decided he would have to be the one to make the first move.

"What's your poison, princess?" he asks, after a few moments of silence has settled between the two of you. You look up from your own book and furrow your brow. When you don't speak, Eddie continues. "Upon which journey of medicated oblivion do you wish to depart?"

That doesn't seem to make it any clearer for you.

"Huh?" you ask. The way your nose wrinkles in your confusion is kind of cute, but Eddie does his best to ignore it.

"Drugs. What drugs did you ask me here to sell you?" He speaks plainly because apparently you aren't ready for euphemism. Wow, you must be really new to this space.

Surprise ripples across your face, followed by immediate amusement.

"I didn't ask you here for any drugs. But you're welcome to partake if you like, of course." You gesture to his pail, proving you had known what was inside all along. Eddie shakes his head.

"I don't sample the goods, sweetie. I just sell 'em."

You snort in response, a decidedly unladylike reaction.

"You and I both know that's bullshit, Munson. I've seen you in class. Nine times out of ten you're high as a kite."

Eddie smirks and runs a sheepish hand through his hair. Oh you'd seen him, huh? You were looking?

"Guilty as charged. Then what did you ask me here for?"

"To study," you answer simply. The look on your face, however, implies that isn't all there is to it.

"And...?" Eddie presses. Your smile grows wider and you close your book. You shift on the bed beside him in a way that shifts your skirt, baring your thigh. Eddie's eyes go straight to that exposed swath of skin, right on cue.

"And...if we fool around a bit, that's a nice bonus." You say it as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Obviously that's an additional thing that would happen on a study night like this. As obvious as a round of flash cards or a homemaker mother coming in with a tray of cookies and juice.

Which reminds him...

"Aren't your parents around?" Eddie asks. He adds a lilt of humor to his voice, though he means the question seriously.

"They're in Indianapolis for the night. I'm here all by my lonesome," you say with a faux coquettishness that causes an ache to begin forming in his throat. "You're here to keep me company."

All of a sudden the closed door to your room emanates with a kind of vibrating anticipation. A rushing begins in Eddie's ears, followed by a high pitched ring. Is he going to pass out?

You take the book from his lap and place it on the floor.

"So what's your poison, Eddie Munson?" you ask.

This is it. Eddie is actually short circuiting. He swallows but the sound resonates as a cartoon gulp.

"We don't have to...that's...we don't need..."

You place a hand on his shoulder and it just about burns through the fabric of his shirt.

"I know we don't need to do anything. What do you want?"

Eddie hesitates, but you read it as him not wanting to push, so you take matters into your own hands. Literally.

'Wait, what are you - oh fuck." Eddie's eyes blow wide as you sink to the floor in front of him, kneeling between his legs with one hand on his thigh and one hand on his crotch.

"I'm narrowing down the options for you, Munson," you say with a grin. "Helping you make a decision. I know it was hard to decide what you wanted. Really hard, it seems." You put more emphasis on your innuendo as you begin to stroke him through his jeans. You're right. He's hard. Just from this fucking teasing conversation he is hard as a rock. His cheeks and ears burn with humiliation.

“That’s…fucking…”

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s fucking. But maybe a version of it,” you chuckle. Before he even understands what’s happening, you’re unbuttoning his jeans and lowering the zipper. If he hadn’t been wearing relatively constrictive boxer briefs he knows he would have all but sprung out the moment you freed him from the denim. You cup him through the fabric of his underwear and slide your hand up and down. “Now what have you been hiding from me, hm?”

Eddie can’t speak. He truly can’t form words. This can’t be happening right now. The amount of times he’d fucked his fist to the thought of you…this was absolutely absurd. He must have smoked too much weed and slipped into a catatonic state, trapped in his own erotic fantasies because what the actual fuck.

Eddie’s continued lack of response does start to unnerve you, though. You slow your hand on his clothed cock and look up at him, trying to keep humor in your voice.

“What’s going on? You’re acting like you’ve never had a girl on her knees before.”

“Um…”

“Stop messing with me,” you snort. But when Eddie continues frowning, you drop your hand from his lap. “You mean to tell me…”

“You can get up for this conversation,” Eddie says quietly, reaching out a hand. He doesn’t like the juxtaposition of the power dynamics. You on your knees in front of him. A situation that should objectively make him feel powerful, and yet all he feels right now is small. You take his proffered hand and allow him to pull you up to your feet. When you take a silent seat beside him on the bed, Eddie knows he’s going to have to explain.

“So…yeah. I’ve never ‘had a girl on her knees’ before.” You nod understandingly, but Eddie knows you can’t possibly fully understand yet. “I’ve never ‘had’ a girl…period.”

A beat passes.

Another beat.

Eddie had been staring down at the leather bracelets encircling his wrists, fiddling with the frayed edges. But at the continued silence he looks up to find you watching him, eyes wide with comprehension.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize, I wouldn’t have pressured you -,”

“No!” Eddie says a little too emphatically, making you jump. He grabs your hands to keep you next to him. “You didn’t pressure me at all. I want…this. I want…you. I just…”

“You just…?” you prompt, dipping your head down to force him to meet your eye despite his dropped chin.

“I just don’t know what I’m fucking doing here, babe,” Eddie forces out with a humorless chuckle. You bite your lip to keep from laughing along.

This is uncharted territory for you. Yes you’re experienced, but you’d really only ever been with guys who had way more experience than you. It was kind of where your forced confidence and teasing personality came from - a little bit of a fake it till you make it mentality. It usually kept guys from bowling you over or taking too much if they got the sense that you knew what you were doing. That you knew what you wanted.

This is a completely different situation. You look at the shaggy-haired metal head in front of you and your heart throbs. Before this evening you’d seen him as a fun little roll in the hay. A cheeky little ‘fuck you’ to your overbearing parents and to the pristine nature of your wholesome image. Eddie was brazen at school. A loud-mouthed, swaggering, innuendo-spewing class clown with a guitar and a million things to say. You’d thought he’d be a decent ride, if nothing else. But now you see him, uncertain and shrinking into your bed, and you realize that you don’t know him at all. And based on the way he’s looking at you with fear and shame, he clearly doesn’t know you either.

“That doesn’t matter to me, you know. Especially since I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, that I can tell, sweetheart.” Eddie’s laugh is genuine this time. He adjusts himself at the crotch, an action that calls your attention to the bulge still protruding in his boxers through his open jeans. He’s still hard. In spite of all the embarrassment and discomfort. Eddie Munson must really want you.

Well good. Because you’ve decided that in spite of everything, you really want Eddie Munson.

When you reach down and push aside his hand, Eddie recoils only for a second. Your hand closes around his cock and he melts into the touch.

“Jesusfuckingchrist,” he exhales.

“That feel good?” you ask.

“That better be rhetorical. Because this feels better than anything I’ve ever felt in the goddamn world.”

“That’s an exaggeration, Eddie,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“No, it reeeeally fucking isn’t.”

“Well then you’re gonna explode when I do this.” Before Eddie can even realize what’s happening, you’ve peeled down his underwear, exposing his cock to the cool air of your bedroom. Your hand wraps around his length, feeling the velvety skin over his throbbing hardness and Eddie all but yelps.

“Holy FUCK.”

“Yeah?”

“Ok now that is better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

You lick your hand and bring it back down to glide more easily along his shaft. You watch Eddie shudder.

“You do realize it will only escalate from here. You can’t keep saying that.”

Eddie grips at the denim on his own thigh and grits his teeth. Your hand has begun to pick up speed.

“Little newsflash for you, babe. I’m not exactly in control of the words coming out of my - GAH.”

You smooth your thumb over the mushroom head of his cock, pleased by the wetness gathering at the tip.

“You touch yourself, don’t you Munson? This can’t be so revolutionary.” You’re teasing him but you love how responsive he is. Love the way he looks at you like you’re made of shining gold.

“My hands don’t feel anything like this and you know it.”

You lift one of his hands with your free hand and smooth your fingers over his skin.

“Yeah. These calluses from guitar?”

He can’t believe you’re speaking so casually while still continuing to jerk him off into oblivion. He’s the one being stimulated, sure, but how can you remain unphased when it feels like all of the heat in the universe is being concentrated in this room right now. Surely he can’t be the only one whose every molecule is on fire.

When Eddie doesn’t respond to your callus question, you decide to take escalation into your own hands. Or rather…Eddie’s.

When you place his hand on your breast, it has the exact effect you think it will have. Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops to the floor.

“Uhhh….”

Dumbstruck.

You decide that’s how you like him.

“You gonna just sit there?” you ask playfully, dropping your hand and marveling at the fact that Eddie’s remains light and motionless when you left it.

“What…can…how…?”

“Play with them,” you reply with a little shrug. When Eddie hesitates, you nudge him to move back up the bed. Once his back is up against your pillows, you straddle his thighs - just before his knees - and immediately get back to work on his cock.

This time Eddie reaches for both of your breasts, and this time his grip is a little more firm. He begins to squeeze and release. When he finally gets adventurous enough to lightly twist your nipple through the fabric of your top and your unpadded bra you reward him with a moan.

“So that…felt good?” Eddie asks hopefully.

“You watch porn, Eddie. What do you think?”

“I think I want to take these puppies out, let them breathe.” Eddie looks up at you with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen, clearly finally feeling more comfortable.

“Ah, there’s the little shit I know and love,” you laugh. Your words send a zing through Eddie’s bloodstream but he suppresses it. There are more pressing matters at hand. Like the way your blouse simply falls away after he unbuttons it. And the way your breasts sit up in your bra - plump and ready for him to have his way with them.

And so he does.

When Eddie’s hands engulf your breast this time, their grip is definitive. You inhale sharply with the strength of his squeeze. Finally some stimulation.

“It does feel good,” Eddie smirks. Your pleasure must be clear on your face.

“Don’t get cocky,” you try to admonish him. It’s time to up the ante, so you wrap one hand around the base of his cock and begin moving your other hand faster up and down.

“Holy shit.”

“There we go,” you say, satisfied. You’ve enjoyed being in control. This is such a rare luxury for you and you’ve decided you like it. The wet warmth blooming between your thighs definitely indicates that.

“Hey…slow down…”

“Too much?” you ask, immediately slowing your motions, worried you’d pushed him too far. Eddie’s hands grip your breasts, almost as if to ground himself.

“No it’s fucking amazing I’m just…I’m gonna cum - oh!”

You immediately pick up the pace right back to what it had been a second ago.

“That’s the idea, handsome.”

Eddie is lost in a flurry of sensation. Nobody has ever called him handsome before. But nobody has ever jerked him off before either, so maybe that’s not the most pressing thing for him to ruminate on. There you sit straddling his thighs with your hands moving on his cock, your breasts bouncing in his hands. He feels like he’s going to pass out if you don’t stop immediately.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, squinting up at you. Your words make no sense in the haze of his pleasure.

“Take off your shirt,” you repeat, relatively urgently. He does as he’s told, ripping his shirt off by the back of the collar. When the fabric pulls up and over his face, he is greeted by the sight of you now without your bra.

“Holy fucking shit.”

You spit in your palm and begin stroking him again in earnest. With both of your hands focused on his length, your arms push your breasts together. Eddie moans on the verge of agony.

“I’m gonna fucking cum.”

“This your first set of tits, Munson?” you ask, amused. This language is much more crass than you’d usually use, but there is something about Eddie - his lack of experience or maybe his unabashed enjoyment - that makes you feel comfortable speaking this way.

“The first set that I can actually physically touch, yeah,” Eddie replies with full honesty and roguish smile. He surprises you by getting a big handful and pushing them together. His thumbs play with your exposed nipples and your hips begin to move against him.

“You’re so turned on right now, aren’t you,” Eddie says through gritted teeth. His eyes squeeze shut against the divine pleasure of knowing that you’re rocking against him just as much as he’s rocking into your hands.

It’s a glimmer of the dirty talk you might eventually be able to get from him. You like it. Like the teasing quality and the way it matches up to the way you’ve been addressing him. It does things to you and you know it would balloon his ego to know that you’re soaking through your panties right now.

So you say the one thing that you know will throw him over the edge.

“I want you, Eddie Munson. I want you inside of me.”

The sputtering of words catching in his throat matches the way his hips stutter, cum spurting up and over your fists. It splashes hot and wet against his abdomen, which you had thankfully had the foresight to make him bare. Eddie lets out a guttural, shuddering groan.

“Are you…fuck…jesus…are you fucking kidding me?” His hands fly off your breasts to cover his face. “God DAMN it.”

Surprised by the sudden tone switch, you lift your wet hands from his leaking cock.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s….that was…I didn’t get to…” Eddie sounds confused and frustrated and breathless all at once. When he drops his hands from his face he looks up at you with a crumpled expression. “What about you?”

You have to bite your cheek to keep in the laugh that you know would hurt his feelings.

“You just had your first handjob and you’re worried about me?”

Eddie furrows his brow.

“Well yeah. I want you to cum.”

You shrug and gently dismount him. Reaching for your bedside table you grab a couple tissues, one which you hand over to Eddie.

“That’s a hit or miss kind of thing, so don’t even worry about it.”

Eddie wipes gingerly at the cum on his stomach and around the base of his flagging cock.

“You mean…you don’t always cum?”

“Not always. But that’s normal.” You glide around your room, picking up your discarded clothes and dropping them neatly in your laundry basket. You open the top drawer of your dresser and pull out a gauzy white nightgown that, when pulled on, floats just to the upper middle of your thighs. You drop your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just a pair of panties beneath the delicate fabric.

Eddie watches from his seat on your bed, still bedraggled from your shared sex act, shirtless with his jeans and boxers pulled down and his member now resting on his belly. It twitches with interest, however, at the sight of your nipples peaked through your nightgown.

“I…I’d like to help you with that.”

Your face, and heart, soften at the earnestness in his voice. This poor, sweet, inexperienced weirdo in your bed wants to help you cum. Something that countless jocks and hot guys never even gave a passing thought to. Eddie stumbles to his feet and pulls up his boxer briefs and jeans.

You climb back onto your bed into the space he’s now vacated.

“Yeah? You want to help me cum, Munson?” You tease him as you lay against the pillows, one hand on your breast while you plant one foot on the mattress to bring your knee up. Your nightgown just barely covers your center, meaning Eddie can see a small swatch of your panties. Light pink. He feels his jeans tighten immediately.

“I do.” He’s eager. It’s adorable. Eddie places a knee on the edge of your bed, mesmerized by the way your hands move over your body.

“We’ll get to that,” you say quietly. Your voice breathy and inviting.

“We will?”

“Want to know the first step?” you ask. Eddie nods emphatically, eyes still trained on your hands, one of which has migrated to the apex of your thighs.

“You’re gonna go home -,” You’re interrupted by a disagreeable harumph from Eddie. You smile. “You’re gonna go home and I’m going to touch myself to the thought of your cock.”

You can physically see the way the wind is knocked out of him.

“Okay?” you prompt when he doesn’t reply. Eddie shifts restlessly.

“Or I could help you now.”

“No,” you disagree firmly. “We’ll build up to that.”

Eddie frowns. You know he’s disappointed, but you can feel your heart rate increase as you swirl your fingertip over your clit through your panties. Orgasms are hard for you to come by - pun intended - so you felt the urge to chase this one without additional variables.

“Next time,” you add, hoping Eddie can see the promise in your face. He watches you silently for another moment, committing the image of you laid out and touching yourself to memory, before he nods and takes his knee off the bed.

“Next time.”

When Eddie leaves a few minutes later, the sound of his noisy van shuddering to life and peeling out beyond your window, you finally indulge yourself in the feeling you’ve been waiting for all night.

You enjoy sex, sure. It wasn’t something that you had given much thought to. You’re pretty in a small town. You’re a cheerleader. It came with the territory that you were an object of lust and desire. Other young men enjoyed getting you naked and emptying themselves of their pent up hormonal tension. You found pleasure in the weight of their bodies and the knowledge that you were wanted. But there had never been much more to it than that. They rarely focused on pleasuring you beyond a tepid rub at the general vicinity of your clit. Their cocks sometimes rubbed a long neglected place deep inside of you, but the friction was always short lived. The occasional orgasm was always welcome but always fleeting. Even in the privacy of your own bed you found that they were often more work than they were worth.

But tonight, you’d had a different experience. The man was beneath you, not on top of you. You had helped him reach a peak he’d never known before. And he’d looked at you like you were a goddess.

When your fingers delve deep inside of you, you’re barely able to reach the place that aches with the promise of deeper pleasure. But for once, you have the feeling that somebody might be able to get you there.

When you cum from vigorously pressing on your clit, you cum with the vision of Eddie Munson in your mind’s eye.

Next time, you think as you ascend. Next time.

~*~

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I really hope you enjoyed this. PLEASE tell me if you did and what you liked about it. I want to see if it is worth doing a part 2 <3

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