#he's ruined countless lives | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

headkiss · 3 months ago

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fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

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Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. ��My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you thing!! it helps more than you know <3

2K notes · View notes

ikeuverse · 4 months ago

Text

TWO WORLDS — p.sunghoon

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader GENRES: angst, smut, slight fluff WC: 7.6k+

WARNINGS: some swearing, alcohol consumption, controlling father, a little argument. sex on the kitchen worktop, quick female masturbation, unprotected sex (pack before use, and do it safely!!!), cumming inside, sunghoon is too soft for now, i think that's it. lmk if i missed anything.

SYNOPSIS: you and sunghoon have known each other since university, but you belong to different worlds. that wouldn't be a factor that would prevent you and him from getting together, if it weren't for the fear of confessing to each other and, when that happened, you wouldn't be able to tell him that you were going away… to another country.

NOTES: i went through so many plots until i ended up with this one. it was my work after more than a month of writer's block, so i can't say if i'm satisfied with it or not. but at least it helped me write something. all feedback is appreciated, so i hope you like it!

part 2 | masterlist

You thought it would be a good idea to go into the bar even though you had cried for countless hours before being there. Hesitating in that particular place wasn't something new for you, after all, it was where your friends met every Friday night.

You just happened to be there alone and in the middle of a Wednesday. The stress of your daily life and the weight you were carrying for fulfilling the wishes of your self-centered and petty father only made your mind spin and you succumbed to an absurd urge to drop everything and run. And you ran to the bar you knew so well. But not because you needed a drink urgently – although you knew the alcohol would be consumed somehow – but because someone there was your refuge at times like these.

Park Sunghoon was the owner of the best-known and most popular bar. Because he was the epitome of beauty, kind, and polite even in a sea of people who were completely drunk and came to that place looking to dance, rub themselves, and wind up with someone. But he was also known as your best friend since university and the guy who stole your heart.

It was hard not to fall in love with Sunghoon when he treated you so well from the moment you and he shared a few classes. When he brought you a steaming cup of coffee twice a week from his grandfather's coffee shop because you'd been there once and said you liked it. How did he remember that? You wondered every time you took a sip of the drink. But Sunghoon only thought, how could he forget?

All the details surrounding you were hard to forget and he came to realize that this was part of the little feeling that was going on between the two of you, even though Sunghoon was afraid to ask you out. Not because it would ruin the friendship, he was very forward-thinking and knew that neither you nor he would be able to do that because it was something beyond what the two of you shared. But because the worlds in which you and he lived were completely different.

You were studying to improve your knowledge and take over your father's company. You wore social clothes, high heels, and the most expensive imported perfumes so that you could meet your father's clients, who would be yours in the future, while you drank expensive wine and listened to banal conversations. At the same time, Sunghoon studied to understand how the corporate world worked, and business and to be able to take over his grandfather's coffee shop. When he passed away, he left it in his name and turned it into the bar it is today. Wearing shabby clothes, torn jeans, and blouses stained with all kinds of drink and food that he had already lost count of.

The coffee shop would have been very welcome if he was still a university student looking for a part-time job just to make some extra money, but with the end of university and a life full of bills and supporting himself, a bar would make a lot more money because he was now an adult. And adults liked alcohol, loud music, and a lot of flirting.

That's what he thought when he changed everything, from the paintings on the wall to the name of the establishment. His best friends became his partners to help run the bar and that's what helped him get a bit more of a head start on sales and popularity. Because they were well-known people at the university, and with Sunghoon being part of the soccer team and the popular kids, this consequently attracted many people who studied with them to become regular customers there.

You and your friends were one of them. Although you also liked to go to see Sunghoon and his best friends who were also your friends. That's why Fridays became a casual get-together for your group of friends.

But it wasn't today and that made you a little more apprehensive and tearful because it was the first time you'd been to the bar alone. You didn't go in with a friend or one of the boys waiting at the door to take you to the table they'd booked for the night.

Your steps were dragged and nervous as you passed people, bodies sweaty and dancing. Loud conversations as you heard someone cursing a soccer team from last night, another group of friends talking about kissing someone at the next table. You focused on every corner even though you didn't want to focus on anything and just went to the bar, lucky if any of the boys were there.

As soon as you finally got close, a few more steps and you'd be near the counter, but not before stopping and taking a look. Quickly sniffling to try to keep away the tears that were still collecting in your eyes because you didn't want any of your friends to see you cry. If you were lucky, the light in the bar would be so dark that it would camouflage your true face and you could make up an excuse and say that you just stopped by to say hello because you were nearby.

Your hands were hesitant as soon as you touched the counter in the empty space when a couple walked away after picking up their drinks and heading for the dance floor.

"Hello, welcome. What can I do—" Jay was one of Sunghoon's best friends and very much your friend too, not least because he was your best friend's boyfriend "Y/n?" his eyebrows arched in surprise and a small smile appeared on his lips as soon as he saw you.

"Hi, Jay" you tried your best not to sound shaky, although you knew that the volume of the music would mask your true feelings.

"What are you doing here?" he looked at you and then around "Is Stella or the girls with you?"

"No, no. I came alone" you pulled up a stool to sit down, your hands resting on the marble of the counter and your eyes darting to the numerous bottles behind Jay before you focused your gaze on him.

"Did you come for a drink?" he followed your gaze as you turned away momentarily, noticing that you were staring at the whisky bottles. After turning back to you, Jay sighed when you nodded slightly "On a Wednesday?"

"Are you monitoring me, Jongseong?"

"Ugh, I hate it when you all call me that, you sound like you're mad" he snapped and walked over to the side of the whisky bottles. Pulling out a bottle and a shot glass, Jay slid it in front of him and filled some of the contents.

Your eyes flicked to the label, slowly reading Hennessy. The brand was known to you, it was one of the whiskies your father used to drink. Feeling the burning sensation he supposedly felt every time he drank made you shiver, not from the alcohol itself, but from thinking about your father at that moment.

"Thank you" you said to Jay as soon as he held out the glass to you. A small smile captured his lips as you turned the glass over in one go.

"For God's sake, Y/n, take it easy" he warned "If you're having a bad day, this will only get worse."

"One more, please" you tried to ignore his caution. Jay just rolled his eyes and took the empty glass from your hand, filling it much less than the first shot.

Then the second, third, and fourth he didn't even want to say much. Although he had already put a glass of water in with the glass of whisky he had poured for you. Jay's silent request is for you to have at least a little more water next time.

You could protest and grumble at how overprotective he was, remembering how he was with Stella in the first place. Then with you and your other friends because, according to Jay, anyone who looked after his girlfriend also deserved to be looked after. That's why he was so protective and nice to you.

But this overprotection was nothing compared to Sunghoon's with you, and for a second your mind switched off from the fact that he could be there and would show up at any moment. You just didn't realize that it would be abruptly, knocking the glass out of your hand and slamming it against the counter.

"You've had too much to drink" didn't take a genius or being drunk enough to register Sunghoon's voice entering your ears. You only refused to turn towards him, but you felt the boy's presence right behind you.

"I think I'm a customer here today, so Jay, please" you ignored the fact that the glass was next to Sunghoon's hand and pulled it out to hand it to Jay.

You couldn't register his expression when he saw you pick up the glass, because your body was turned just in time along with the stool you were sitting on. Facing Sunghoon, who lowered himself to the level of your face.

"You're going home, right? I'll drive you" he said.

"Nope" you muttered back.

"We're not having this conversation here, Y/n."

"And nowhere else" your pout almost made him give in and lean forward to kiss you, but Sunghoon held back, his hands squeezing the upholstery of the seat you were sitting on and slowly rubbing the side of his thumbs against your leg.

He opened his mouth to say more, to force you out of there, or to make fun of the fact that he had been watching you for a while as you drank and talked to Jay while he served other people at the bar. He wanted to tell you more, to say that his heart was racing with worry because you were never one to drink like that and it was strange to see you so resistant. But all his words fell flat when Sunghoon looked deep into your eyes and saw you crumble.

You let the tears fall freely down your cheeks and the urge to sniffle and sob that you'd been holding in all night now surfaced when he wrapped his arms around you to hold you against his chest.

"Jay, you can take over here, right?" he asked.

"Sure, go ahead, mate" Jay said "Call me if you need anything, me and the boys will lock up here and run to you two."

You could imagine the sad smile Jay was giving Sunghoon to try and comfort him as he lifted you off the bar stool and walked with you through all those drunk people until he left. Still holding you against him for fear that someone might touch you or that you might disappear from his sight, Sunghoon didn't want anything to happen to you.

"Did you come by car?" he asked when the two of you arrived outside. The icy wind didn't even tickle your body because you were so immersed in Sunghoon's arms that you couldn't feel anything.

Pointing in the direction of the parking lot, he pulled you along with him until he was able to locate your car without too much effort.

"I need your keys" he asked, releasing your arms to turn towards you and look at you straight on.

Noticing every little feature of you since you'd arrived at the bar. The office clothes hugged your curves, and every piece of clothing looked great on you. The combinations of turquoise and gray further enhanced your beauty and every feature that Sunghoon had fallen in love with.

"No purse?"

"In the car" you said in a tearful voice, reaching for the keys in the back pocket of the pants you were wearing to hand them to him.

Sunghoon took them and unlocked the alarm for you both to get in, holding the passenger door for you until you sat down and he could close the door. Running to the driver's side and getting in too.

If it had been any other time, that silence between the two of you would have been comfortable and just what you needed amid so much confusion in your week. But it was killing you because you knew that Sunghoon looked furious. Maybe at you, you didn't know for sure, but you shrugged when you felt the tears still falling down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry" you whispered as quietly as you could, breaking the silence inside the car, which was still at a complete standstill.

The only sound coming from Sunghoon's lips were the interspersed sighs he gave, running his hands over his face and then through his hair countless times. Well, your apology shouldn't be accepted, after all, because on another occasion he would say that you didn't need to apologize. That it wasn't your fault or anything to comfort you. But Sunghoon wasn't saying anything and that made you cry even more.

You turned your face towards him to see if there was any glimmer of comfort or something you could cling to so that he wouldn't feel that way. Your eyes traveled down his figure, noticing the contrast in clothing the two of you were wearing. Sunghoon was wearing a beige shirt with a huge stain near the sleeve, probably a drink that some customer had knocked over or that he or the boys had made at the bar. There was a small tear in the collar and it was halfway down his hip. Sunghoon's torn and worn jeans gave the outfit a total charm and it made you smile through your tears because it was so characteristic of him.

"Sunghoon…" you decided to call him after you didn't get an answer from him, earning you his gaze straight away.

Sunghoon's brow furrowed at the sight of you crying next to him and his heart squeezed even tighter because he didn't know how to act in the face of so much worry and nervousness. He had seen you cry many times before, but what had gotten into him to act like that? Why was he being so rude when all you had done was go to his bar to drink and cry? Something was happening and he needed to act, but he wasn't thinking straight.

So he didn't think much of it either when he turned and raised his hands to hold your face, bringing your face close to his and leaning his forehead against yours. That act in itself was something between you and him beyond intimacy. Something the two of you shared, in a mute attempt to convey the will to go further. To break through that barrier to touch lips and kiss. But neither you nor Sunghoon had ever done that.

His thumbs brushed against your cheek, the delicate touch contrasting with the roughness of Sunghoon's skin against yours. His breath hitched against your trembling lips and you almost asked him to go further, but you held back.

"Are you going to work tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, in a whisper. His thumbs were still caressing your cheeks and you let out a shaky sigh at the question.

"I don't want to set foot in that place any time soon" you said.

Opening your eyes to find Sunghoon's gaze already on you, your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when he looked directly at your lips. But just as quickly as he did this, he managed to look away and back at you properly.

"So I'm spending the night in your apartment" he kissed your forehead, lingering his lips against your skin before pulling away and straightening up in the driver's seat "You need to tell me why you showed up here at the bar on a Wednesday, crying."

"And you'll need to tell me why you fought with me today" you pouted, hearing him laugh for the first time since you met that night.

Sunghoon agreed, starting the car's engine to get out of there and head straight to his apartment.

Staying up late talking about what had caused all this was the right thing to do, even if your body was begging for some sleep after a long hot bath. You remember telling Sunghoon that it was trouble with your father, as usual. The way the man wanted to control your life in the worst possible way, not content with having decided your future, he wanted to decide anything else that involved you.

But the subject was cut off there, you didn't want to tell your best friend that the real reason you were crying wasn't even your father's control over your life and his idiotic hunches, but that in a few weeks, you wouldn't be here anymore. You would no longer live in this country and, worst of all, you would no longer see Sunghoon. That was better left unsaid as you fell asleep in his arms, preventing him from leaving your bed after hearing all your wails, promising that you wouldn't cry about it anymore.

Even though it was hard to think that you would no longer be close to him. That, in all this time, you hadn't even managed to declare yourself or hear a statement from him. So now being in another country, with unrequited love – or so you both thought – couldn't be worse.

Either that or the little hangover that took over your body as soon as dawn broke and you opened your eyes. The slight difficulty in keeping them open when you groped around and didn't feel Sunghoon's warm body anywhere. Had he already left, then? Or had he decided to sleep in the guest room in the middle of the night? This last option is ruled out because you remember turning over a few times in the early hours of the morning or stirring in your sleep and feeling his arms around you. It was one of the times he slept in the same bed as you, doing so only when your friends went to sleep in your apartment and used the other two spare bedrooms. This was done more often than you thought, but it wasn't so important to think about it now.

Sitting up in bed after much pondering, you felt your head spin a little and your eyes finally open. Contemplating the moment when you should have been at your father's company – which would soon be yours – but here you were, in your apartment after a wave of hangover hit on a Thursday morning. It wasn't that bad, you remember doing it a few times while you were at college. The only difference was that the place would be full of university students, your friends who were supposed to meet up at the bar on Friday. But one of them was certainly there in your apartment at that moment, and you realized it as soon as you got out of bed to walk out of the room.

The smell of food invaded your nostrils as you walked down the corridor to the top of the stairs. Noises of cutlery and frying and an undeniable smell of coffee pulled you further and further into the kitchen of your apartment. Sunghoon was unbelievable and you knew he would do anything to see you well. You just didn't know that he would prepare an entire breakfast when the scene in front of you said so.

"Good morning" he smiled at you when he saw you leaning against the doorframe, sleepy and even more beautiful than he remembered.

Your smile soon followed and you almost fell back when your eyes finally caught up with him. He had slept without his shirt on, but seeing him like that right in front of you was too much. Sunghoon was wearing sweatpants belonging to Jake, who always left his or Jay's clothes at your apartment every time he went there with you, Stella, and his girlfriend. Sunghoon also had a few pieces here and there, but Jake's pants were the first he'd found the night before, so putting them on quickly to wrap you in a hug was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

"Good morning" you decided, pushing aside any thoughts and smiling at him, approaching in slow steps the slender, gorgeous guy who was preparing a mug of coffee "Is that for me?"

He hummed excitedly, putting a few things into the mug before turning and handing it to you.

"I found some things in your cupboard and I think I may have managed to replicate my grandfather's coffee, the one we had at university."

"Don't play games with me" you pouted as you picked up the mug "Are you serious?"

He leaned down to touch his lips to the top of your head, sniffing your hair and smelling the shampoo on your strands.

"You tell me" Sunghoon moved away to finish making the pancakes and arrange the bacon and eggs on the table on the other side of the counter, where he turned around and walked away from you.

Your eyes captured the whole moment as he took a long sip of coffee. It was just like his grandfather's, perhaps with a little more cinnamon and a hint of vanilla that you felt as the liquid went down your throat. It might have been Sunghoon's style, but the essence was completely his grandfather's from what you remembered from university. Smiling at this, you watched him set up the whole breakfast game while humming some tune you couldn't identify because your brain was focusing on his every move. The muscles flexed as he bent over to arrange the plates, or how his brow furrowed as he balanced the juice container on the table.

You didn't want to feel your heart squeeze at that scene because Sunghoon had already done it a few times. For both you and your friends, it was normal to see him excited about making breakfast or being so domestic. But it wasn't normal for you to feel like you might explode, that you needed to tell him that in a few weeks, you'd both be far enough apart that he'd – maybe – even forget about you.

"Hey, Y/n" his voice was desperate and snapped you out of your thoughts when you noticed him running away from where you were to come towards you. You only realized you were crying when he took the mug from your hand and ran his fingers down your cheek, collecting your freshly fallen tears "What happened? Did I do something wrong or…?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong" you sobbed quietly, your hands encircling his fists as Sunghoon held your face between them.

"So what happened?" he asked. "Is there something else bothering you?"

Yes. I'm practically moving out and we won't see each other for who knows how long. You choked on that thought as you looked into his eyes, the concern evident and the glint that adorned the dark orbs that you admired so much.

Your thoughts were consuming you as Sunghoon leaned towards you, trying to listen or hoping that words would come out of your mouth so that he could understand what was happening to you. In his mind, something at breakfast or the night before was completely wrong.

He may have overstepped the mark when he held you while you slept, keeping you close to his body the whole time. Or that he went through your kitchen and prepared a huge breakfast on a weekday when you were supposed to be in your office and you were here with him. But that didn't make sense and he just wanted to think that you were vulnerable from having bad times with your father and the weight on your back from trying to please him at all costs.

Sunghoon understood how burdened you were by this how much you disliked what you had and how your relationship with your father was, he understood from the moment you two met. That's what made you fall in love with him because he always understood you. And he fell in love with you because he saw you beyond any designer clothes you wore or jewelry your father gave you to put around your neck. He saw your eyes, your smile, he saw you for real.

And he was seeing it now, in front of him in your kitchen, and as your tears slowly dried until you stopped crying. Sunghoon thought about asking you again what had happened or if you wanted him to leave so you could be alone, but it was his turn to have his mind flooded with nothing but you when he felt your lips on his.

Suddenly, without any pretext, you simply leaned forward and kissed him.

Sunghoon's hands ran to your waist and pulled you against his body, afraid that this was his mind betraying him, or that he was daydreaming about your lips against his. But as soon as you whimpered softly to ask for permission to kiss him, he knew he wasn't dreaming.

Tongues soon intertwined and the taste of coffee in your mouth quickly passed into his mouth, making Sunghoon moan softly as he pressed you between his body and the kitchen counter. It was a repressed feeling since the time you two discovered such feelings and that you held onto until the present moment. If he had known that kissing you would be like this, that your mouth would fit perfectly on his, and that you would have the sweetest breath against his lips, Sunghoon would have kissed you much sooner. He would have taken advantage of every opportunity he had around you, your mouth, or the moments when you two almost kissed by accident. He should have done all this before because it was heavenly to feel your mouth move against his.

It was all too much and the way you were making him feel, but when your nails slid to the back of his neck, sanity had long since left Sunghoon's body. He slid his hands down your thighs and supported your body to place you sitting on the kitchen counter. The icy marble on your thighs and half of your ass where the shorts couldn't cover, you moaned against his mouth and leaned your body forward with a shiver running through you. Your chest pressed against his and Sunghoon fit between your legs, as little space as possible between the two of you.

Pulling away after a long while, he rolled his eyes to your lips to notice a thin layer of saliva and the redness of your bottom lip. Swollen and all beautiful while he wasn't much different. Your chest rose and fell to normalize your breathing and he kept his hands resting on the counter beside each of your thighs.

“Y/n” he called your name, voice hoarse like a plea for you to keep him between your legs even after the kiss was over.

"Yeah?" you answered him, hands running down his chest and feeling Sunghoon's heart speed up under your fingers when your hand stopped there. Your eyes stared into his as your legs pressed against Sunghoon's ass to press him between your legs.

“Shit” he moaned as the growing erection pressed between your legs, the heat of your still-covered pussy making him shudder.

Quickly Sunghoon's hands slid down your thighs and went to the waistband of your pajama shorts, grabbing the fabric without taking it out of place. You tightened your legs around his waist again and at that moment you saw him gain courage and roll your hips against his. Sunghoon’s dick was rock hard and you couldn’t hold back your moan as the perfect movement made the head of his dick press against your swollen clit. The wonderful friction of dry fucking as he alternated his hips between rolling and going back and forth, only to be able to draw moans from your lips each time his dick got the perfect pressure on your pussy.

“Sunghoon” you moaned his name, hands moving down from his chest to his stomach slowly. The nail scratched all the way down forming a red trail against the white skin in front of you. You stopped with your fingers on the waistband of the pants he was wearing, swallowing hard when his hand on the waistband of your shorts went down.

"Yes, my love?" he whispered. So deep making your pussy clench around nothing, and it was pathetic how you felt like this while he had barely touched you.

“Can you—” your voice hitched, your eyes closed quickly when Sunghoon's fingers entered your shorts and panties, going straight to your wet clit.

His moan made you moan too, combined with the pressure of his fingertips rubbing circles on your muscles in need of attention. It felt so good not to have to ask him for much, knowing that the impulse to kiss him was making you do this kind of thing that you didn't even know would happen. Much less him.

Feeling like you had kissed him was something Sunghoon never thought would happen, especially since you were always shyer than him. All the advances and physical contact between the two of you came from him, so he thought that, if one day there was a kiss between you and him, he would definitely make the first move. But since it hadn't happened, Sunghoon was left to enjoy that moment because he knew he was giving himself as much as you.

You could no longer hold back the desire he had to have you in his arms, at his fingertips, wrapped around his dick. Sunghoon wanted to feel you.

"That is good?" he asked as he ran his fingers down your pussy lips, parting them with the obscene sound of your wetness spreading. You would be embarrassed just to hear it, but you no longer cared as his fingers worked wonders on your pussy.

“That feels wonderful” you moaned as he circled his index finger around your entrance, feeling like you had clenched around nothing. As impatient as he is.

With a movement away, you almost cried when you no longer felt Sunghoon's fingers in your pussy. Almost grabbing him back and shoving his hand where you needed him most. But everything calmed down when you saw that he was grabbing your shorts and panties, asking you to lift your hips so he could remove what was getting in the way.

Soon the pieces of clothing were on the floor and you thanked the gods for being free down there, with his hand returning to surround your clit in circular movements. Sunghoon's nimble and skilled fingers made small drawings on your pussy while his other hand went up to your face and held it. Cupped between your cheek and neck so that he kept your face close to his while the fingers in your pussy were slid to your entrance.

“Don’t hide your sounds from me, okay?” he asked as he introduced two fingers at once, watching you bite your bottom lip hard. Sunghoon smiled when you opened your eyes to look at him, nodding as you let your moans come out freely.

The stretch of your pussy felt divine to him, his fingers covered in arousal and your walls clenching so deliciously as he went deeper with slow movements. Not because he wanted to torture you, but because he was taking his time as he felt you getting wetter and wetter so he could take his cock.

Meanwhile, his hands reached down with difficulty to the waistband of the pants he wore to sleep, pushing it down just to free the head of his dick. Because you didn't have enough strength to continue the work since Sunghoon's fingers in your pussy took away any concentration you had. He chuckled softly at your snort of displeasure at not getting what he wanted to do, then he leaned in to kiss your lips.

A tender, slow, and affectionate kiss. With your tongues moving against each other romantically, silently conveying that you two loved each other, even if it was never said in the first place.

Sunghoon removed his fingers from your pussy with a pornographic pop due to the amount of juices coming out of there. He took the opportunity to lower his pants to his feet and use his fingers, wet with your essence, to wrap around the head of his dick and smear it along with the precum that came out of there. That scene could be worth any orgasm he had as you watched him slowly masturbate in front of you, with his finger full of you and his precum. This was making you so hot that you decided to take off your pajama shirt, now matching his nudity.

You pulled him by the back of his head and kissed him. Wanting to occupy your mouth or something other than focusing on his dick that was already throbbing to be inside you, soon feeling him pull you closer to the edge of the kitchen counter and feeling his dick against your thigh.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” he asked gently against your lips, you sighed softly and agreed, whispering a slow “yes” to him.

As if he already knew your body, Sunghoon was precise in positioning the head of his dick in your pussy and sliding it from your clit, the soaked lips, and your entrance. Collecting even more of your juices until the head of his cock was in your hole. Slowly entering your pussy with almost stopping movements, just so that you felt comfortable each time he moved inside you to penetrate a little more.

Your nails scratched every inch of his skin that was visible and touchable to you, and he smiled, satisfied, knowing that those marks would remain on his skin for a long time. Not that it was a bother because Sunghoon would happily tell anyone who asked that it was his girl who had done it.

“Fuck” you grunted as his pelvis finally slammed against yours, his dick completely inside you. Big and throbbing, touching your spongy part in a slow movement that he made as he started to pull out and re-enter your pussy.

“Are you—” he moaned “Fuck, Y/n” Sunghoon’s lips found yours again.

Your hot pussy sucking his cock was the best feeling Sunghoon could have felt in his life. It was as if your pussy had molded itself to him in just a few seconds while he was inside you, no longer wanting to come out.

“You can move now, Hoonie” calling him that nickname always made something in Sunghoon light up, but the way you whimpered and then moaned, made Sunghoon's hips slam hard against yours.

He would even apologize for how careless he was in fucking you like that because he wanted to take it slow and take his time. He wanted to enjoy every movement, but the excitement of hearing you call him made something click in him.

Responding to your requests, Sunghoon began to move between your legs. His cock moved in and out slowly but hit you hard every time his pelvis met yours. The sound of skin slapping together, accompanied by the moans you two shared was the soundtrack of that kitchen. Sunghoon went back to cupping your face in his hands, cupping each side of your cheek to keep your face in place as he fucked your hips against his. Your legs wrapped around him pressing your thighs against his waist to press him further as he bottomed out, his cock reaching your cervix with each hard thrust until the end.

“You feel so good, love” he moaned close to your mouth, his gaze falling between your bodies to see his cock being swallowed by your pussy. The white ring of his excitement wetting his dick to his pelvis when he got close to your pussy.

The lazy smile he gave you when he looked back at you, his face fucked up and his eyes focused on his every move.

“Hoonie” you called him.

"Yes, love?" he leaned in, mouth brushing against his and hip movements never stopping as he tried to hear what you had to say.

It could be the horniness taking over you, or the need to say it because you didn't know when you would have another opportunity. And if it would have. He could run away and never see you again, but you would need to take that chance while you were being fucked by him in your kitchen.

Your hands reached for his hands on your face, sliding one of them along the prominent veins on Sunghoon's forearm. He sighed softly at the touch, smiling against your mouth.

“I'm in love with you” your voice followed by a loud moan as he slammed his hips against yours, his cock entering your pussy completely.

The action itself was a shock because he wasn't expecting it. Maybe hearing you say that he was doing great, that his cock was something amazing, or something related to the sex you two were sharing. But never something he looked forward to hearing, not when his dick was buried inside your pussy.

Sunghoon slowed down the pace of his thrusts, remaining with his hands on your face before taking your lips in a slow kiss, sucking the tip of your tongue to your lower lip.

“I've always wanted to hear that” he sighed breathlessly, one of his thumbs going down to your bottom lip and pressing there “Because I've been in love with you since we met, Y/n.”

It would be romantically beautiful if he didn't have his hair disheveled, sweaty, and plastered to his forehead. And if you weren't oozing excitement from your pussy onto the kitchen counter and his dick if your body wasn't on the verge of exploding. But no matter how you and him were, hearing that made things a little better for you.

“Then show me” you whispered “Make me cum on your cock.”

He just nodded without having the courage to contradict you or say how sexy you were commanding him like that. Because Sunghoon also wanted to cum and it wasn't much different from you.

Returning the ministrations of your hips against his and burying his cock in you, he accelerated the pace of his thrusts, and the sound of skin slapping filled the kitchen again. His cock buried itself deeper and deeper into your pussy and soaked between your thighs and his abdomen each time he went even deeper into you.

Sunghoon pressed his thumb again on your lower lip, collecting some of your saliva so he could wet his finger and go down to your clit. Spreading your saliva there to stimulate the neglected muscle as he fucked his dick inside you.

“Come for me then, love. I want to hear you moan my name” he whispered close to your ear, sliding his mouth down your neck and biting the place eagerly.

Teeth dug into your skin as he sped up his thrusts as he felt his cock pulse inside you and your pussy squeeze him against its walls. Sunghoon could scream right then and there when he felt you contract around him, moaning his name as he asked and writhing on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a way to balance himself, taking possession of the man who fucked you so good and squeezed your clit until he extracted the last drop of your cum.

“I want you to cum inside me” you whispered close to his ear, taking advantage of the fact that Sunghoon’s lips were still on your neck “Please, Hoonie.”

You could be a huge motherfucker and he had never seen that side of you until now. But it also wasn't complaining that you were like that with him, on the contrary. It was great to see this side of you from the angle and position he was in.

Sunghoon gave a few more thrusts into your convulsing and overstimulated pussy, going deep with his dick until jets of cum painted each of your walls white, feeling the heat take over your pussy as he slid his dick inside you. Pulsating and incredibly skilled, pushing harder and harder until he stopped cumming inside you.

He was stunned and panting, teeth sliding across your skin and a hickey left in place before he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. Still keeping his cock inside you to have the heat of your pussy envelop him a little more.

“You…” he started saying, clearing his throat when he felt it dry. You knew what he was going to say, trying not to show any sadness and just focusing on the moment he was having. “You really meant that, didn’t you?”

“About being in love with you?” you asked, seeing him agree with a shy nod. As if he didn’t still have his dick inside you and had fucked you just a few minutes ago “Of course I do.”

“Good” Sunghoon smiled at you, kissing your lips to get out of your pussy and prevent you both from moaning loudly at the feeling of each other’s emptiness “Now let’s clean ourselves up, shall we?”

It was your turn to agree, accepting his help to get off the counter and go to your room.

You didn’t want to say anything to him about not seeing each other anymore or about how you were leaving. Many possibilities were running around your mind and you thought of something that might work. But none of them were involved in facing Sunghoon face to face after today.

"A letter? Who would send that nowadays?” Sunghoon laughed as he took the envelope from Jay's hand, rolling his eyes and pulling out a chair to sit down.

It was close to lunch and the bar wasn't even close to opening, but he and his best friends always went at that time to have lunch together and clean the bar before the night was full of the customers they always used to come to.

It was Friday and he was excited because he knew he would spend time with his friends and, more than that, he would spend his time with you. He would finally have you with him after telling you he was in love with you and hearing that you were in love with him back. Sunghoon could have sworn this was all a dream because less than two days ago he heard it, waiting for a long time since college.

But if all the waiting was made up for with the sex you two had in the kitchen, then continued in the bedroom and ended up in the bathroom of your apartment, he would be completely happy with having waited so long.

“Open it already, dude” Jay whined “Or I’ll do it and read it out loud.”

Sunghoon denied all of Jay's theatrics and rolled his eyes, opening the envelope that had no sender, only the recipient. He sighed as he unfolded the paper inside.

“It’s a letter from Y/n” he smiled at the paper when he recognized your handwriting.

Jay also smiled, remembering the day before when he received Sunghoon's call after he left your house. Telling everything that had happened, maybe omitting some details so it wouldn't be so embarrassing for Jay, but he still wanted to tell about the small statement. About how he saw the sparkle in his eyes when he heard that you were in love with him and how you shivered in his arms when he heard that it was reciprocal.

But also, how could it not? Sunghoon would be crazy if he wasn't in love with you back. He would call himself every name possible for not realizing how amazing you were and how passionate you were too.

As he read that letter, the smile disappeared and Jay did the same, not understanding why Sunghoon seemed so apprehensive reading something you had sent him. Not after the time the two of you shared.

“Hey, dude” Jay called him, but all Sunghoon did was crumple up that paper and throw it on the table.

Leaving without saying a single word he rolled up the bar door and disappeared from there.

“What happened to him?” Heeseung appeared next, startled by the noise the door made as soon as Sunghoon left.

Jay was just as confused as he was, not wanting to invade his friend's privacy, but he was worried and knew that Sunghoon or Heeseung would do the same for him if they saw him like that. So the boy did the most sensible thing, which was to crumple the paper to read the letter you had written to Sunghoon.

His eyes widened with each word before reading specific things you had written, one of them being the reason why Sunghoon had left there like that.

Maybe it was our last moment together because, in a few weeks, I'm moving to Switzerland. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I just… I was scared.

Jay put the pieces together little by little. So that was the reason that made you go to the bar crying on Wednesday, you were moving to Switzerland. And you would lose Sunghoon one way or another because you certainly had your father's hand in this decision, which certainly wasn't his.

Now all that was left was to know what the boy would do with this information, because the way Sunghoon left that bar, he hadn't taken the news very well.

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon #enha smut #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #bay writes.

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nitewingbabi · 1 year ago

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↳ please respond…I showed you my cock ⚤ ghostface x female!reader 【 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI 】 ✉ taking requests part 2 ▻ a pretty mouth

2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.

‘I like the red ones’ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends.

Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone.

It’s Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging.

Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadn’t checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasn’t unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was.

Unknown Number +1**********

➤ quiet night?

➤ parents aren’t home.

➤ neighbours are out of town.

You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didn’t and instead they paid for a self defence class for you.

Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV.

Unknown Number +***********

➤ i liked the little show you put on for me the other day.

➤ wish i had been there to ruin those little red panties

You weren’t sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep.

Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone.

Unknown Caller

You weren’t sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it.

“Hello?” You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldn’t recognise.

“Hello y/n. Enjoying your show?” Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.

“Who is this? Why are you tormenting me?” You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, you’d hope that one time he would budge and just tell you.

“The question isn’t who I am. the question is where I am.” You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasn’t the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho.

“Look asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.” You weren’t sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you.

“Oh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?” He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end.

You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss.

You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head.

“Hey!” Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge.

“I want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?” His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through.

Gfce23 added you on Snapchat!

It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit.

Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole.

“Open them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.” His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock.

The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs.

His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring.

Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didn’t call you back, didn’t text you and didn’t send anything else to you that night. But that does’t mean he let you off easy.

It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach.

Unkown Number +**********

➤ i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonight

➤ leave your window unlocked

➤ i know your parents wont be home

➤ hope you like it rough princess

#ghostface smut #ghostface #scream #scream2 #scream3 #scream4 #scream5 #scream6 #screamsmut #mickey altieri #mickey altieri smut #billy loomis #billy loomis smut #ghostface x reader #smut

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dipperscavern · 6 months ago

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thinking about jon snow not knowing what to do when you admire him.

he’s sprawled on his stomach, bare chested & fast asleep, with the blankets covering his lower half. castle black stirs awake as the sun starts to rise, moving to start its ascension into the sky.

the ghost of your fingertips across his spine pull him to consciousness, goosebumps trailing his skin from your touch. he lightly stretches, opening his eyes as his muscles tense & relax once more.

he looks to see you sitting up, a glossed over look in your eyes as your gaze is fixated on his back — the hint of a smile playing on your lips. he’s never been looked at like that before. caressed, admired, as if he was something special.

he can feel the pads of your fingers as they run along his shoulderblades, tracing the ridges & muscles that map the expanse of his back. has he ever felt anything this gentle?

you stop your mapping of his body when you see that he’s awake. he’s not looking at you, though. his eyes are blank, fixated on a distant wall as he focuses on your touch, trying to commit the feeling to memory.

“you’re so pretty, jon.”

he feels his cheeks grow warm, no doubt starting to turn a pretty shade of pink. his entire body grows hot, nerves on fire with the sincerity of your words. jon knows you mean it — you’re no liar. suddenly your gaze is overwhelming, and he feels the need to squirm under it.

you’re evil, he thinks. the worst to ever live. can’t you see what you do to him?

he’s brought out from his thoughts when the warmth of your hand leaves his shoulders, coming to brush his hair out of his face. you tuck the strands behind his ears, the dark curls protesting being moved. jon swallows, looking up at you.

he can see the smile you’re trying to suppress, and he feels his heart swell at the fact the sight of him is enough to make you smile. the knuckle of your finger comes to trace the underside of his jaw, just the way your lips have done countless times before. the thought alone is enough to make him shiver.

you get to the front of his face, the pad of your thumb coming to run along his bottom lip. the same lips that have been all over your body are now at the mercy of your touch, and jon wouldn’t ruin this moment for anything… even if lord commander mormont had returned from the dead & knocked on the door.

jon had tried to be still, truly. he should’ve been given an award for how long he’s held out so far. he can’t help himself, lips moving to kiss the pad of your thumb. they start to descend, trailing down the slope of your hand. he presses a final kiss to the inside of your wrist, before his hand wraps around it and brings it to his cheek. he uses it as a pillow, laying his head down once more & sighing, eyes fluttering shut.

you let the smile break free now, eyes gazing down at your lover, in all his content. jon deserves it all. the gentleness, the warmth, anything that you have to give, you offer to him. he’s been through hell and back, the scars run deep. and you want nothing more than to kiss each and every one, to replace the once horrid memories with the feel of your touch.

you eventually pull away your hand, & jon’s eyes are quick to open. you can almost feel the disapproval radiating off of him, which is quickly replaced with a warm feeling deep in his chest when you reach for his right hand.

you bring it to your lap, eyes fixated on it. both of your hands cradle his larger, calloused one. you run your hands along his, feeling every vein & knuckle under your fingers. his fingers twitch with the need to curl into your smaller ones. jon’s so busy looking at your hands holding his, he at first doesn’t see the way your eyes are closed. you’re mapping him, every part of him with your hands — trying to bury the feeling in a deep part of your mind so you never forget. and once jon realizes that, he’s inclined to never let you go. just keep you here, wrapped in his arms forever. you wouldn’t mind, would you?

once you’re done, sure that you’ve traced every part of him that you can reach, you bring his hand to cradle your cheek, mirroring how jon had done with your own not so long ago. you lean into it, relaxing into his hand.

it’s jon’s turn to smile now. it tugs at the corner of his lips, curving them upwards as his tongue darts out to wet them. is this what love is like? jon thinks it must be. to simply exist & be cherished by someone, to be truly adored & held close.

jon can’t resist the urge anymore. its overwhelming at this point, clouding his mind. he uses the hand on your cheek to pull you closer as he simultaneously pulls himself up, connecting your lips with his. he kisses you long & soft, as he gently moves you to lay down on your back. you’re easy in your compliance, putty in his hands; the one still on your cheek, and the other pressing to your waist as your lips continue to dance with his.

he pulls away, trailing kisses down your neck. your hands find their way to his hair, not pulling, just slotting themselves amongst the curls. once he reaches the end of his descent, he moves to place once more kiss on the underside of your jaw, before laying his head down on your stomach. his arms wrap around your waist as your hands scratch at his scalp in a way that’s divine.

& in the comfort of your arms, jon understands why so little men join the nights watch of their own accord. what is honor compared to a woman's love? what is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms? he understands now, able to fully grasp the concept of never knowing the tenderness of your touch — and it’s not a very pleasant thought.

in the back of his mind he remembers the duties you both have to tend to, but they’ll be fine, he thinks. they can wait.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow prompt #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #please guys i need him so bad #thought of this trying to fall asleep lowkey #i just want to cherish him #admire him the way he deserves #rip jon snow u deserved the gentle touch of a woman

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artdcnaldson · 4 days ago

Note

you can probably tell all this shit is from me but i'm on something tonight and i'm too pussy to sign off with an emoji. anyway, thinking about bsf!artrick arguing over who fucks better and they look at you and who are you to say no to a purely Scientific Experiment. it's for the greater good! i need them to run a train on me. holy shit. them blindfolding you and making you guess who's fucking you and who's eating you out etc.

You’re so iconic I need you to know I worked on this to make it perfect for you and I hope you enjoy!!

But SIGHHHH Getting tied down to the headboard so you can’t cheat and feel for clues! So you’re blindfolded, tied, and completely susceptible to their whims. They’re trying to ignore how pretty you look, because this is simply to settle a disagreement, okay! This has nothing to do with how bad they’ve both fantasized about fucking you since they’ve known you!

It starts with their hands. You’ve never paid much attention to them before (you’re lying), but you swear you can feel the difference between them just by the touch. Patrick touches like he’s trying to stake a claim on your skin. His hands are rough from use— you can feel the rough scrape of callouses against tender skin as he gropes at your tits. Art’s touch is tender and intentional. A little softer (you know he keeps hand cream in his gym bag so his hands don’t crack and split like Patrick’s)— his hands trace along your body delicately, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

That’s easy, but it’s harder to think when it’s their mouths on your pussy, licking and teasing and fucking devouring. You squirm against the restraints, but firm hands hold you down in one spot. Art’s hands on your hips, Patrick’s fingers teasing at your entrance. Patrick’s mouth— fuck.

Patrick eats you out like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, and he very well could. It’s wet and messy and so, so desperate, like he’s got something to prove. He pulls back and spits your arousal back onto your cunt, and you’re sure there’s a puddle beneath you that’s a mix of spit and your juices. Your back arches off the bed as he hikes one of your thighs over his shoulder, bringing you impossibly closer. The sound of his fingers thrusting into your sopping pussy are so obscene that your cheeks burn— you’ve never been treated like this by anyone else before, but you like it. You like how hot and desirable he makes you feel. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks with just the right amount of pressure, and your thighs shake from the intensity of it all. You couldn’t have tried to hold off your orgasm if you wanted to— Patrick wanted you to cum, so he made you cum, with all the expertise of someone who’s eaten pussy countless times before.

Your cunt is still twitching with aftershocks when Art moves between your thighs and licks up all of the slick spit and cum from Patrick’s endeavors. It’s almost soothing, how his tongue traces the shape of you, like he’s committing the contours of your body to memory. He rubs at your thigh with his free hand, and uses his other hand to ease two fingers into your cunt. He doesn’t fuck you with his fingers the way patrick did, he lets your walls flutter around them, squeeze him tight. He moans at the feeling, at your taste. There’s something about the way that Art nuzzles against your pussy, his nose rubbing at your clit as he tastes you, that tells you he fucking loves it. Patrick is good at eating girls out, but Art lives for it. Your hips cant against his mouth, and Patrick makes no move to hold you down, Art wouldn’t have wanted him to. Art lets you buck against his tongue, his nose, cover his face in your juices. The noises he makes are so pornographic you’d think he was the one getting head. You’re so oversensitive that Art makes you cum like it’s no work at all, with teasing licks against your clit and pressure against your g-spot. He’s practically making out with your pussy as you come down, and finally relents with one final kiss to your twitching clit.

“I can’t—“ you gasp, chest heaving after having two orgasms in such a quick succession. “I just need a break, I need… fuck, like a minute to catch my breath.”

“Yeah?” That’s Patrick’s voice, beside you. When he rubs a hand over your thigh you inhale a shaky breath. “You sure you wanna keep going?”

Then there’s Art’s hand, rubbing along your bicep and brushing hair from your face. “We can stop.”

You should feel exposed and vulnerable— tied up to your headboard with a silk scarf from your dresser, your entire body on display for your two best friends. Your entire body burns with need and desperation. You’ve wanted it for so long, and now that you’ve had it, how can you go back to the way things were before? How can you look at Patrick and Art when you know how their mouths and hands feel against your body? You can’t stop there— you can’t give up because what if they’re hit with clarity immediately after? What if you never get a chance again?

“Don’t wanna,” you say quickly. “Please don’t stop.”

If you weren’t blindfolded, you’d be able to see the pleased grins on their faces. They’ve wanted you like this for fucking months, and now there you are, all tied up, pretty, and dripping for them. Fuck tennis, this is one competition neither of them is willing to lose.

You feel them coax your thighs further apart, opening you up to them completely. You don’t have time to feel shy about how exposed you are, because one of them positions himself between your thighs, notching at your entrance.

In your attempts to identify which one it is, you rely on the few senses you can access. His breath hitches the second the head of his cock breaches your entrance, slipping into your wet warmth. A strangled gasp that you hear him struggle to silence. He’s positioned over you— you can smell sweet cologne and shampoo as he holds his body up and drives into your cunt. The brush of coarse hair against your clit, the feel of hairy thighs sandwiched between yours as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Patrick,” You pant out as soon as he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Of course it’s Patrick, staking his claim on your body first.

“Mhmm,” His breath is hot against your ear. “You’re so smart.” The condescending tone of his voice makes your stomach do a fucking somersault. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking tight. Pussy’s trying to suck me in, isn’t she? Feels that good, huh?”

Now you understand the revolving door of Patrick’s hookups, why girls put themselves through the Sisyphean cycle of pleasure and heartbreak over and over again for him. Just his words are enough to set your body on fire. All you manage in response is a pathetic nod, an involuntary arch of your back as he slowly pulls out of your cunt, then drives back in hard. The moan that spills from your lips is unlike any sound you’ve ever heard yourself make before.

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just take it, baby. You're fuckin' made for it.” And you are— at least, it really feels like it. You feel him reposition— sit back on his knees, grab you by your hips, and fuck into your cunt nice and deep. He fucks like he doesn’t care if you’re going to cum, which is clearly untrue, given how close you are already.

When your climax hits you, it’s like it’s being pulled from some hidden depth in you— ripped from the very core of your being. Your toes curl, your cunt grips him like a vise, so tight his rhythm falters. It’s dizzying, all consuming. Intense and short-lived, like most of his relationships. Still, he fucks you through overstimulation until he pulls out and cums onto your tummy.

“Go ahead, I broke her in for you.” Patrick sounds smug, and you hear the clap of skin on skin as he slaps a hand on Art’s shoulder.

It doesn’t feel much like an experiment anymore. Not when you know when Art climbs on top of you, when you feel soft kisses peppered along your jaw. That goddamn oral fixation.

He eases your thighs apart, spreads you out for him. Art’s thighs are smooth against yours. From a distance, he looks hairless, but you can feel the soft brush of fine hair again your own thighs.

A shaky gasp escapes you as his cock glides against your cunt. Slow ruts of his hips that coat his length in your arousal and judge his tip against your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him, that little tease of friction and pleasure.

Art’s loud. You can hear his soft little pants and moans as he humps against your cunt, until he can’t take it anymore. “‘M gonna put it in, okay?”

You nod and let him push in nice and slow. He groans and buries his head against your neck, and you’re conscious of the brush of soft curls against your skin, of his hot breath panting against you. “You feel so good, Jesus, fuck—“

He grinds his hips into you— nice and slow, so each movement sends pleasure sparking up your nerves. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, heels digging in to tug him closer, deeper.

You've kissed Art before— at parties during stupid games meant to play on raging hormones and pent up sexual desire. Bottles spun that land on him, smoke shotgunned into your mouth when you're both a little crossed and can't help yourselves. But it's different then, when he smashes his lips to yours, licking hungrily into your mouth. Better when he's fucking you nice and deep, his body pressed against yours.

Art Donaldson, ever the sweetheart, the gentleman that Patrick is not. His hand moves between your thighs to toy with your oversensitive clit until you mewl. If the blindfold was off, you'd be able to see the pleased smile he wore when you cried out for him.

"I've got you," he mumbles against your mouth. His forehead presses against yours, his nose nudging softly as he moves between soft kisses and open mouthed gasps of pleasure. He swallows up every sweet noise you give him, squeezes the plush of your thigh in the hand that isn’t rubbing over your clit. Your body tenses with pleasure, arching into him and he moans as you clench around him. “Fuck—“

You want the blindfold off. You want to see Art come apart, you want to know what Patrick’s doing while he watches. You want so much more than you have in that moment. And still, Art brings you to your finish like it’s easy, like every other guy hasn’t struggled to do it before him (well, besides Patrick). You’re spent, panting, oversensitive and yet you still feel a throb of need as Art jerks himself off over you.

With the blindfold on, all you can hear is the slick sounds of his hand pumping over his cock, his whiny moans, and then you feel the shock of warm ropes of cum landing on your skin, dripping down your sensitive, swollen cunt and pooling on the sheets.

It’s only then that the blindfold is pulled off, and you can see the mess they’ve made of you. Patrick’s cum dried and smeared over your stomach and Art’s abs, Art’s cum glazing your pussy. They untie your hands and you don’t even realize until then that they’re all tingly with lack of blood flow. Patrick rubs his thumbs into your palms, trying to soothe the ache as Art scrambles to find some way to clean you up. Sweet boys, even if they try to deny it.

“So which one of us—“ Patrick begins, before Art throws the towel he used to clean you up in his face. His expression twists in annoyance, but he knows better than to ask again. He’s fine keeping it a tie… for the time being, that is.

#artrick x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson smut

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months ago

Text

Meeting your ex jjk boyfriend again after your breakup

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Toji x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,1 k

Warnings: cheating in gojo's part, overwhelming emotions in every part lol

Well that escalated quickly. If you want a part two with Geto, Sukuna, Chose and/or someone else let me know 🤍

Gojo Satoru

You hate to be here. Just the thought of seeing his face again makes your guts turn. When was the last time you encountered each other?

When he was with her.

“Don’t panic, I’m here with you. Remember?”, Utahime mutters into your ear while walking up those cursed steps towards jujutsu high.

“I thought I’d never have to see that jerk’s face again…”

“Well, not when you’re the second strongest. Don’t let that idiot ruin your mood.”

You sign to yourself, gaze drifting over your beloved students.

When you found out your long-term boyfriend Gojo Satoru cheated on you with none other than Mei Mei, you dropped out of Tokyo Jujutsu High immediately. It was Utahime who took you under her wing and made you the teacher you are today – at Kyoto High.

Those past two years, you really managed to stay away from him. After changing your phone number countless times, after searching day and night for a place to live that he won’t find so easily, you finally lived in peace. Far away from the pain he caused, well distracted from your still messed-up feelings.

But now you’re back. And you will be forced to meet that prick.

“There they come”, Nobara mutters while her gaze drifts over every person that comes into frame.

“Hey, who’s that woman over there?”

“That’s (y/n), a former student here at Jujutsu High. She attended the same class as Gojo-sensei. Right now, she’s working as a teacher at Kyoto High”, Megumi explains briefly.

“Former? Why isn’t she here anymore? I’d love to borrow those boots from here. Damn, that outfit really rocks…”

“There have been some…incidents with Gojo-sensei…”

Nobara’s eyes widen in pure curiosity, her eyes scanning you up and down.

“Her, with that white-haired idiot?”

“What are my lovely students talking about?”

Megumi rolls his eyes out of instinct when the tall man comes to a stand behind them.

“Oh look, the students from Kyoto High arrives with their tea-“

His breath gets stuck in your throat when your eyes make contact with his. How long has it been since he last saw you?

You look…flawless. Your hair a little longer than in his imagination, your body well-built by the countless training hours you might have spent over there at Kyoto High.

But your cold gaze is still the same as on that fateful day that still repeats itself over and over inside his head.

Fuck.

“Look who’s there”, he jeers from afar.

You feel like vomiting all over the floor. Were you really dumb enough to think your feelings just disappeared into thin air? You force your eyes away from him and to stare at his students instead. You just need to get those few days over with. Only those couple hours and you’ll get away with not seeing him for another 2 years.

“Shut up, Gojo”, Utahime warns him next to you.

“It’s nice to see you’re still as weak as before, Utahime! I wonder if you’re still crying all the time-“

"Funny, Gojo. It's nice to see your arrogance is still compensating for your insecurities. Some things never change."

The air around you freezes when those words leave your mouth, everyone around you going silent in an instant. It’s only you and him. Him with that suddenly so hardened expression, you with eyes that spit venom his way.

“Why don’t you save your breath for someone who cares and just leave us alone until the competition starts?”

"Touché. But if you're going to psychoanalyze me, how about we do it somewhere private? We have some catching up to do."

There it is again. That cheeky smile you know painfully well, the way he tilts his head to the side oh so playfully. Your heart wrenches, bleeds out like it did on that day you saw him.

In Mei Mei’s bedroom.

While she was naked.

“I’d rather die, asshole.”

Without gifting him another look you storm away. Towards the main building, as far away as possible without anyone being able to follow you.

Fuck, you swore to yourself you are over this shit. You shouldn’t care about him, shouldn’t even feel bothered by looking at him anymore. Only one glance at him and you’re completely losing it? You thought you were better than this, stronger than you were two years ago. But apparently, nothing changed. You’re still crying over someone who betrayed you in the nastiest way possible.

A gentle grasp on your wrist rips you out of your nightmares and catapults you in an even worse one.

“Let go of me”, you hiss through gritted teeth when his bright blue eyes meet yours.

"I definitely won’t make that mistake again. You can run all you want, but you know we need to talk. You can’t keep avoiding this... or me.”

You yank your wrist away with full force when something inside you snaps.

"Talk? About what, Gojo? How you always think you can just waltz back into my life whenever it suits you? I’m done with your games."

„Stop calling me Gojo like we’re strangers. Just hear me out-“

"Strangers? That’s what we are now, Gojo. Whatever we had, it’s over. You don’t get to decide when I listen to you."

Fuck, you hate the way tears start to burn in your eyes, how his sheer presence shakes you right to your core. Truth is, you never stopped loving him. Not even when he abused your trust like he did, not even when you caught him with Mei Mei that day. Until now, your stupid heart didn’t get the message, still clings onto him for dear life.

And it hurts like hell.

Gojo takes a deep breath in and takes a step towards you.

"Please, just listen. That night - it wasn’t what you think. I was trying to protect you, but I messed up by keeping you in the dark. I would never betray you like that. You have to believe me."

"Protect me? I saw you in Mei Mei’s room. If that wasn’t what it looked like, then explain why you were there. Don’t expect me to just forget what I saw and the way it made me feel. As if your fucking words mean everything!"

You lose it completely, your composure, those rough years of keeping you together. In that second, you lose yourself.

“That night she called me because she told me about a special grade curse that was hunting after you. I entered her room just seconds before you stumbled in. If I had known this, that she only tries to entertain herself with spreading that fucking misunderstanding between us, I would have never-“

“Have you any idea how I felt that day? You…You were my life, Satoru! I would have died for you! And you didn’t even care enough to follow me!”, you now cry out seething with emotion

“I thought I was doing the right thing!”, he shouts so roughly that you flinch.

“I thought you needed space, that we’ll talk things out when you didn’t respond countless times. I never thought…that you’d actually believe I was cheating on you! You meant everything to me too, and the thought of losing you, of not even knowing where you were, has been killing me. I’m so sorry for not chasing after you. Until this day, there’s nothing I regret more than giving you space in that fucking moment, I should have fought harder to make things right. Fuck, I missed you every single day since you were gone and it kills me, it fucking kills me I can’t call you mine anymore!”

Are those…tears glistening in his eyes. Is that really Gojo Satoru, standing in front of you, crying?

“Seeing you like this… I don’t know if it makes things better or just harder. Maybe you’re genuinely sorry, but the pain you caused me is real. It’s not something that can be fixed with words or tears alone…”

“Just one kiss.”

He draws closer, the heat of his body paired with his signature perfume now so close that you feel like fainting for a second.

“Give me one kiss and I’ll leave you alone.”

“A kiss?”, you breathe out.

His lips haunted you in your dreams frequently, how they felt pressed against yours and comforted you through everything. You hated how your mind always remembered you of what you’ve lost.

Those kissable lips, that mouth that never failed to make you smile.

But now…a kiss?

"Just one kiss, to remember what we had, to see if there’s still something between us. If it doesn’t change anything, I’ll walk away and give you all the space you need. But if there’s even a spark left… I need to know."

Your mind races as you consider his request with a wave of feelings rushing over you like a tsunami. Memories of your shared moments flood back, the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his touch, and the sweetness of his kisses that used to light up your whole fucking world. But what if he hurts you again? What if all those words are nothing but a filthy little lie to play with you all over?

Your heart pounds while you close your eyes briefly, trying to push through the pain and the intensity of the situation. The idea of that one kiss, despite everything, pulls at your heartstrings. That moment of vulnerability and a chance to confront what’s been haunting her dreams, close enough to touch and feel...

Finally, you open your eyes and nod slowly, your voice barely a whisper.

"One kiss."

Gojo’s eyes soften with a mix of relief and hope as he leans in, his breath warm against your oversensitive and touch-starved skin. His lips meet yours with a gentle, hesitant touch. A bittersweet mixture of longing, regret, and a lingering affection that speaks of all both of you once shared, the feelings that still rise from the ashes between both of you – feelings that never really disappeared. Truth is, you never really stopped loving Gojo Satoru. Even if he shattered your heart into thousands of pieces, even if your heart still aches, you can’t escape his gravity.

Out of instinct, you wrap your longing arms around his neck like you always did, press your body even closer against his. Only that one touch, that one kiss in order to feel that he lied.

But instead, the taste his falling tears on your tongue, feel his desperate hands on your waist. Did…Gojo Satoru miss you as well?

As your lips part, a tear slips down both of your cheeks while heavy breathing fills the cramped room between you.

"From the moment you left, I’ve been lost without you. I thought I could move on, but every day without you has been unbearable. I missed you more than I ever thought possible. I’ve been living in a world where everything reminds me of what we had and what I threw away by not following you that night. I never stopped loving you, not for a single fucking day.

I know I’ve made mistakes and I’ve hurt you in ways I can never fully make up for. But standing here now, feeling your arms around me and knowing that you still care... it’s more than I deserve. I love you, and I’ve always loved you. If there’s any chance for us to rebuild what we had, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I need you to know that my feelings for you have never faded, and they never will.”

You look at him with a mix of longing and hope, your eyes silently asking for what you’re yearning for.

"One more kiss," you whisper,

"just to see if it’s real.”

Toji Fushiguro

Your eyes are focus on the glittery liquid that swirls around in your glass, too focused on the play of color to even listen to that jerk opposite of you.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me?”

“Of course, go on”, you mutter through your hand without even looking up.

To be honest, your dating life has been a mess since that one guy. Dates each and every night, nameless men who cling onto your rock bottom for dear life. Getting showered by meaningless compliment that are supposed to drag you into their beds, the bitter taste of gammahydroxybutyricacid on a regular basis.

Just like now. Liquid ecstasy.

You raise your eyebrows, allow yourself a glimpse at that muscular guy with a face that looks like out of every plastic surgeons dream and that fake rolex around his wrist. As if you’d be dumb enough to actually swallow that shit. But on the other hand, you might as well wait until he spent all his money for you in that way too expensive restaurant before leaving him standing in the rain.

“You have to be the prettiest woman I’ve even seen”, he jeers while grabbing your hand.

You force down that wave of puke that threatens to take you over and put on the sweetest smile you have to offer.

What a loser, honestly. Not even able to read a woman properly.

But none of the men you’ve met since him were.

“Aren’t you thirsty? Don’t you like your drink?”

Yeah, like you’re dumb enough to drink that shit.

“I’d actually like to eat something before drinking. Otherwise, I’m drunk immediately”, you give back oh so innocently.

He lets out a disgusting laughter, his hungry eyes almost pilling you out of your skintight dress. Well, that’s what you get for going on a date with someone who calls himself selfmade CEO of something that has to be another lousy pyramid scheme.

Let’s get this over with.

Your eyes dart around the room aimlessly in order to find a way to escape later on. Unfortunately, the toilets don’t provide a window and as it seems, you won’t be able to escape that main hall. Screw those fancy restaurants and their high alert.

It’s a feeling that crawls up your spine so suddenly that your head yanks to the right out of instinct.

Cold eyes. That scar on the corner of his mouth that flinches when he catches you staring at him.

So familiar cold eyes that you feel like fainting for a second.

It can’t be him, it’s impossible that it’s him-

“Toji?”, you breathe out.

You haven’t seen him since that day.

Since the two of you broke up.

You swore to yourself to never see that man again, moved to Tokyo on order to get lost in the crowd, went on countless dates to fuck his face out of your mind.

But as soon as your eyes land on him, your guts twist just like they did before, a wave of fright washing over your usual so broad back.

“I need to go”, you mutter, not even caring about that douchebag on the other side of the table anymore.

You need to get out of here, need to hide in some lonely corner, need to move to another city. Or another country? It seems like he’ll always find you, no matter where you go.

The cold air of the night hits your face like a wall as you stumble out of the restaurant. Where are you supposed to go? Aimlessly, you haste through the next alley, eyes darting behind you as if you’re haunted.

That toxic fucker, that crazy man who apparently didn’t accept your breakup at all. Toji is no one to be messed with, a maniac when it comes to his toys.

And you are one of those toys. Well, you hope you were.

“Think you can escape me like that?”

The next second, you find yourself pinned against a wall with no way out.

“Let go of me, you freak”, you press out, not even daring to look up at him.

Fuck, you’re absolutely screwed. There’s no way you’ll get out of here like you did last time.

“Is that how you greet the love of your life, huh?”

He grabs your cheek firmly and forces your head towards his.

There they are, those dangerous eyes. Up close, in their full glory.

You feel like puking.

“I don’t love you anymore. You treated me like shit.”

That’s what you told yourself over and over again, literally tattooed on your heart. You can’t love a guy like him, he’ll never give you what you need and want.

“So you’re telling me that guy who wanted to fuck after your blackout is better? Can’t tell me you didn’t notice that loser put something in your drink.”

“It’s none of your business”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Everything that has to do with you is my business, babe. You did a good job hiding from me for a few months. But you can’t escape me”, he mutters against your ear.

His hot breath against your naked and oversensitive skin almost sends you over the edge, forces that knot inside your stomach to start pulsating all over again.

That fucker who knows your body so well. That asshole who plays with your feeling all over again.

“We’ve broke up”, you remind him with unsteady gaze.

“So you have no feelings for me? Hate me? Just because I killed that guy-“

“You killed so many people that I lost count. I can’t do this!”, you blurt out.

“But do you love me?”

Your heart almost pounds out of your chest, sweat now covering your forehead only by looking at him. So many nights, you’ve drank enough to forget your own name.

But you never forgot his.

“Doesn’t matter…”

“So you do.”

Before you’re even able to protest, he lifts you up and cages you against the wall. And your lousy traitor of a body? Wraps your legs around his waist as if none of this ever happened.

“I’ll make it up to you, princess”, he mumbles into the crook of your neck, now placing gentle kisses on your bare skin.

You want to tell him to stop, want to yank your body out of his demanding grasp.

But instead, you let your head fall back and close your eyes.

Fuck, you missed this. You missed him.

“And don’t ya dare to run away from me again. You’re mine.”

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@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa

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monstersholygrail · 3 months ago

Note

I am here to ask for more monster fucker scientist nerd, BUT

With a moth hybrid reader (like they lowkey are just mothman but a Luna moth) who can’t talk but is very smart and squeaks likes moths do sometimes

I’m sorry I just rarely see the ‘reader is monster’ kind of thing and I really like weird nerd for some reason

You write so good I love ittt

Ayyye, very cool idea!! And don’t apologize, you’re all good, babe. I like reader!monster and nerds too (and thank you oh my goodness!!)

The Scientist throws the newspaper onto the counter with a scowl on his face. ‘Government Scientist Breaks Out of Facility with Hybrid: Insider Conspiracy?’

The nerve of that guy. Letting his passion and lust warp his brain like that. To ruin an entire government study and all for what? Love. To have a mate. He would never make a mistake like that if he got the chance. Just once chance and they’d all see how brilliant he was!

Bugs were his field of study. Close to Hybrids. If only they had picked him instead he could’ve shown them the benefits and uses to what a bug can produce. His entire home lab is lit up with the evidence of it. Countless vials fill the rows of shelves along his walls. Each and every one of them glowing a lovely neon color.

Suddenly a banging at the glass door that leads to his patio shakes the scientist out of his dark thoughts. Turning around he watches as you, a Moth Hybrid, walks right into the door. Over and over again, your eyes glazed over as you look into the light.

Despite knowing what brought you here, the scientist remains just as curious about you. He gently guides you inside and helps you to focus on him instead of the vials. Next he tries to get you to speak, to explain yourself. He can’t figure out how annoyed to be at your interruption until you do. But when you open your mouth all you do is let out the tiniest little squeaks that grate against his eardrums.

He guesses you said something though as a second later you’re popping out of your seat and scurrying about. Your wings nearly knocking into everything around you in a way that has his heart jumping up into his throat. He watches you with rapt attention as you walk around his lab, mixing things together. He wants to stop you, to tell you you’re messing everything up, but he’s mesmerized by you. The way your green wings shine against the light of the vials.

Eventually you walk over and hand him something. It takes him far longer than he’s willing to admit to realize you had made a breakthrough in his recent hypothesis. He looks between you and the vial in awe, wondering exactly how long you had been watching him.

After such a discovery the scientist felt he couldn’t truly kick you out. You were now a team. And as the months passed in which you two worked together. It became more. He kisses you first thing when he walks into the lab, he asks you your thoughts even though all you can do is squeak in return, and he lets you take lead when you’re onto something he shockingly didn’t notice.

It’s as close to marital bliss as the scientist could ever imagine himself being. And it seems you feel that way too as one day, the both of you working furiously in the lab together, you bring him a vial dull and black. He doesn’t understand but he’s getting quite used to the feeling. You motion between the vial and your belly before touching his. Restoring the motion until it dawns on him.

You want to have babies with him. Correction— you want him to have babies with you. He’d be carrying them. He looks down at the vial, his expression full of contemplation. He would have to take it easy on his work, leaving most of it to you. He’d be growing multiple lives inside his body. He’d be giving up his chance to make a difference in order to do this with you.

He quickly takes the vial and downs it in a single gulp, exhaling shakily. He knows he made the right choice. Because he may be giving up the chance to make a difference but he’d be making a difference in his own life. In yours. And with your arrival he’s learned over time that that’s enough.

A heat slowly overcomes his body and he can feel something inside of him expanding. Making room for the eggs you’ll deposit inside him. The urge to slam you down on the lab counter and fuck you till you breed him seizes control of his actions till he does exactly as the urge demands.

You look so beautiful, glittering amongst the shining lights. Yet you’re the brightest thing he’s ever seen and he’s drawn to you. Always has.

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imloyaltoscoups · 6 months ago

Text

truth or dare | kim mingyu

You and Mingyu are chilling in the living room when he suddenly remarks, "Man, this show is getting kind of boring, don't you think?" You glance over at him, noticing his slight frown as he flicks through the channels with the remote. "Yeah, it's losing its charm," you agree, leaning back into the couch. "Want to switch to something else or do you have any other ideas?" he said.

You shoot Mingyu a mischievous grin, your mind buzzing with an idea, but you hesitate for a moment, debating whether to share it or keep it to yourself. With a playful glint in your eye, you lean in closer, whispering conspiratorially, "I've got an idea that might just spice things up a bit. But you've got to promise not to laugh..."

Mingyu's eyes light up with curiosity as he leans in closer, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, creating a charged atmosphere between you. "Come on, spill it," he murmurs, his voice low and eager. "Is it something naughty? Knowing you, it's bound to be interesting." He flashes you a playful smirk, his breath warm against your skin, waiting for your response.

You push him away with a light shove, though he chuckles in response, clearly enjoying the playful exchange. "Hey now, don't be shy," he teases, his laughter bubbling up.

You roll your eyes, a smirk dancing on your lips. "I just want to play truth or dare to deepen our friendship," you say, trying to sound serious but failing as a grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a smirk mirroring yours. "Deepen our friendship, huh?" he mocks, his tone teasing. "Sounds like someone's got some secrets they want to spill."

You and Mingyu have been friends for so long, and there's always been an unspoken understanding between you. You've both felt that special connection, that undeniable fondness, but you've never dared to cross the line into something more. Deep down, you know there's something between you, something beyond friendship, but the fear of ruining what you have has kept you from taking that leap.

You've had countless late-night conversations, stolen glances, and moments that lingered a little too long, but you've always brushed them off, burying your true feelings deep inside. The thought of risking your friendship for a romantic relationship is daunting, and neither of you wants to jeopardize the bond you've built over the years.

So, you continue to keep your feelings to yourselves, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmers beneath the surface whenever you're together. It's a delicate dance, one filled with longing and hesitation, but for now, you're content to cherish the friendship you share, even if it means keeping your love hidden away.

"So, who's going first?" Mingyu asks, breaking the momentary silence with a playful grin.

You return his smile, feeling a surge of warmth despite the lingering tension. "Let's do Rock, Paper, Scissors," you suggest, a hint of excitement in your voice. It's a simple game, but it's enough to ease the tension and bring a sense of familiarity back to the conversation.

As Mingyu lost the round, you couldn't help but cheer in victory, a triumphant grin spreading across your face. "Yes! Looks like you're up first," you say, your voice laced with playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm before responding, "Truth."

You playfully roll your eyes, letting out a mock disappointed sigh. "Boooo, truth? Not fun at all," you tease, poking fun at his choice.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey now, just you wait. I'll go for a dare next, just you wait," he replies, his tone confident and playful, hinting at the fun that's yet to come.

As you think of a question to ask Mingyu, a sudden curiosity crosses your mind. You know he is quite active when it comes to sex, but you've never really discussed the details of his intimate encounters. "So, Gyu," you start, trying to sound casual despite the unexpected question, "how many... um, people have you been with?"

Mingyu's expression shifts from amusement to slight shock at the unexpected question, but he recovers quickly, offering a smile. "Well, let's see," he begins, counting on his fingers before giving you his answer.

You can't help but let out a "Really?" in response, your surprise evident in your tone. It's not that you're judging him, but you never realized just how many partners he had been with. It's a revelation that leaves you momentarily speechless, unsure of how to respond.

"So, this is the kind of truth or dare you want, huh?" Mingyu mocks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Well, I don't want the traditional truth or dare. I just want it, hmm, let's say a little bit spicy," you reply, matching his playful tone.

Mingyu smirks, nodding in agreement. "Sure," he replies, his smirk widening. "Truth or dare?"

You don't hesitate. "Dare, for sure," you respond, feeling a thrill of excitement at the prospect of what he might come up with.

Mingyu's face lights up with mischief as he reveals his dare, and your eyes widen in shock at his bold suggestion. "Wait, Mingyu, that's a bit much, don't you think?" you protest, feeling a rush of nervousness at the thought of carrying out his request.

He chuckles, his smirk growing wider. "Hey, you said you don't want traditional, right?" he mocks playfully. "So come on, don't back down now."

You shoot him a glare, a mix of apprehension and defiance in your expression, but ultimately, you decide to play along. With a sigh, you reluctantly comply, removing your shorts and leaving yourself in just an oversized shirt that barely covers your underwear, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

You quickly grab the nearest pillow to cover your lower half, feeling a bit exposed in your current state. With a slightly defiant look, you turn to him and ask, "Truth or dare?"

Mingyu flashes you a charming smile and opens his mouth to say "truth," but before the word leaves his lips, you throw the pillow at him with a playful yet exasperated huff. He catches it effortlessly, a smirk playing on his lips as he places the pillow back over your lower half.

"Alright, alright," he chuckles, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Let's change it up. Dare."

You can't help but roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "Fine," you say, contemplating your next move. With a glint of mischief in your eyes, you formulate a not so daring challenge for him, ready to see how far he's willing to go.

"I dare you to remove your shirt," you say with a sly grin, enjoying the turn of events.

Mingyu's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your boldness, but he can't help but chuckle at your cheeky dare. "Is this still truth or dare or strip poker minus the poker?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

With a shrug, he complies, smoothly pulling off his shirt to reveal his well-defined abs. You can't help but feel a rush of frustration mingled with something else as you take in the sight. Sure, you've seen him shirtless countless times before, but this time feels different, more intimate. It's lowkey arousing, and you find yourself momentarily lost for words, the air between you charged with newfound tension.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you contemplate your next move. "Truth or dare?" he asks, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing that if you ask for a dare again, he might take it to another level, and you're not sure you're ready for that. So, with a slight flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, you decide to play it safe. "Truth," you say, opting for the safer option this time.

He nods, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he leans back on the couch thinking what will he ask you, his left arm resting casually on the sofa while he taps it with his fingers, the picture of relaxed confidence. You can feel the wetness forming through your underwear at the sight, a subtle reminder of the tension simmering between you.

Mingyu's question catches you off guard, and you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his boldness. "What do you think about me sexually?" he asks, his tone teasing yet curious. "And have you ever had a wet dream about me?"

Your heart races at the daring nature of his inquiry, and you quickly try to regain your composure. "Hey, one question at a time," you retort, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I can only answer one."

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "Well," you begin, choosing your words carefully, "sexually, I think you're... intriguing. There's definitely an attraction there." You pause, feeling a rush of nerves at your confession.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he waits for your answer regarding the wet dream question.

"It's your turn," you tell him, deflecting his question about the wet dream with a playful smile.

Mingyu chuckles at your evasion. "Alright, fair enough," he concedes. "Okay, okay, I'll choose truth since you're playing it safe."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief that he's opting for a more straightforward question this time. But deep down, you can't shake the lingering curiosity about what might have been if he had pressed further.

You take a deep breath, your throat feeling suddenly dry as you muster up the courage to ask the question that's been lingering in your mind. "Have you ever had a wet dream about me?" you inquire, your voice slightly shaky despite your attempt to sound nonchalant.

As you wait for Mingyu's response, you reach for the water on the table, your fingers trembling ever so slightly. His answer comes quicker than you expected, and it almost catches you off guard. "All the time," he replies with a playful grin, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Your hand freezes mid-air, the cup of water perilously close to tipping over as his words sink in. With a swift motion, you steady the drink, taking a big gulp to hide your surprise. You manage to swallow without spilling a drop, but the shock is evident in your expression.

You meet Mingyu's gaze, trying to play it cool as he smile innocently. However, your mind is racing with a million thoughts, wondering what exactly he means by "all the time."

Feeling a surge of nervous energy, you head to the kitchen to grab some cans of beer, hoping that a little liquid courage will help you navigate the increasingly charged atmosphere between you and him. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, his gaze lingering on your every move, and it only serves to heighten the tension.

Returning to the sofa, you place the cans of beer on the table without a word, and Mingyu doesn't question your sudden choice of beverage. He simply grabs a can, pops it open, and takes a long gulp, the sound of the fizz filling the air.

As he finishes his drink, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his gaze still fixed on you. "Should we continue?" he asks, his voice low and husky, the unspoken tension crackling between you like electricity.

"Dare," you say, feeling a rush of anticipation coursing through your veins as you set the can down, ready for things to escalate.

Mingyu's eyes gleam with mischief as he accepts the challenge, his lips curling into a devilish grin. "I dare you to sit on my lap," he declares, his voice low and teasing.

You gulp, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as you stand up, still clutching the pillow that covers your lower half. Slowly, you make your way over to where Mingyu is sitting, his gaze burning into yours as he taps his lap, silently urging you to take the plunge.

With a shaky breath, you lower yourself onto his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes, sending shivers down your spine. As you settle into his embrace, he gently removes the pillow from your grasp, his hand coming to rest on your thigh, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You give Mingyu's hand a playful smack, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you protest, "Hey, that's not part of the dare!"

He just chuckles at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get feisty," he teases, his tone light.

But then, he raises an eyebrow suggestively, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why don't you dare me to let me place my hand on your thighs then?" he suggests, his voice low and husky, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Your heart races at the suggestion, torn between the thrill of the dare and the apprehension of where it might lead. With a nervous laugh, you meet his gaze, your own eyes dancing with excitement. "Okay, then. I dare you," you say, the words coming out in a breathless whisper, "to place your hand on my thigh."

"Sure, if you say so," Mingyu responds, a hint of excitement evident in his voice as he complies with your dare.

His hand returns to your thigh, but this time, it's not just resting there; it's caressing, moving up and down in a slow, tantalizing motion that sends shivers down your spine. You bite your lip, trying to suppress a gasp at the sensation.

"Truth or dare?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Dare," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Face me," he commands gently, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

Following his instructions, you shift your position, straddling his lap as he remains seated, facing each other. As you settle into his embrace, you feel your shirt ride up slightly, exposing your underwear. Mingyu's hands find their way to your waist, holding you firmly as you feel the unmistakable pressure of his bulge against you.

The sensation sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can feel yourself getting wet as desire courses through your veins. With every movement, every touch, the tension between you escalates, and you know that this game of truth or dare is about to take a decidedly steamy turn.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you muster up the courage to continue the game. "Truth or dare?" you ask Mingyu, your voice slightly shaky.

"Truth," he replies, his gaze locked with yours, a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

"What kind of kisser are you?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

Mingyu's lips curl into a smirk as he considers his response. "Do you want to find out?" he asks suggestively, his hand squeezing your waist gently.

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. "Well, I did ask, so.. yeah" you reply bravely, meeting his gaze with determination.

"Yeah?" he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, the tension between you palpable. His arousal only fuels your own, and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

A shiver runs down your spine as Mingyu's whispered words caress your ear, his voice laced with a hint of teasing affection. "Being brave now, huh? Is it, babe?" he murmurs, his warm breath sending a delicious tingle down your spine.

The affectionate term catches you off guard, and you feel your stomach flutter at the sound of it. He rarely uses such endearments, reserving them for moments when he wants to tease you or express a deeper level of intimacy. Hearing it now, in the midst of this charged atmosphere, sends a rush of warmth coursing through you, and you can't help but lean into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating presence.

"One of us should be brave," you tease, trying to maintain a hint of playful banter despite the growing intensity between you.

Mingyu's hand continues its slow exploration beneath the fabric of your shirt, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. His warm breath tickles your neck as he hums in agreement to your suggestion.

You feel his lips brush against your collarbone, the exposed skin tingling at his touch. A small gasp escapes your lips as he presses a gentle kiss to the sensitive area, eliciting a low curse from him.

"I've wanted this to happen for so long," Mingyu admits, his voice thick with desire as he moves to your neck, peppering it with small, teasing kisses.

You place your hand on his face, halting his advances and meeting his gaze with a smirk of your own. "So, will I finally get to know what kind of a kisser you are?" you tease, your voice laced with anticipation.

Mingyu's eyes sparkle with amusement as he leans back slightly, his smirk widening. "Guess you'll just have to find out," he replies, his tone teasing yet filled with promise.

The tension between you crackles in the air as you share a knowing look, both fully aware of the unspoken desire simmering beneath the surface. With a playful glint in your eyes, you lean in closer, closing the distance between you, ready to discover just how skilled of a kisser Mingyu truly is.

As Mingyu's lips gently meet yours, a surge of longing washes over you, and you realize just how long it's been since you've shared a kiss like this. His touch is soft yet insistent, coaxing you to lean into the embrace of his lips.

You feel a flutter in your chest as the kiss deepens, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. Sensing your hesitation, Mingyu pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of tenderness and desire.

"Remember to breathe," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion, as he brushes his thumb against your cheek in a gentle caress.

You let out a shaky breath through your nose, the sensation grounding you in the present moment as you lean back in, surrendering to the intoxicating warmth of Mingyu's kiss.

The kiss deepens, becoming more fervent and passionate as Mingyu's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. Your own arms intertwine around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you lose yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours.

Feeling bold, Mingyu's hand trails down your back, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. As he bites your lower lip, a gasp escapes your lips, allowing him access to deepen the kiss further. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you taste the mingling of his saliva with yours, the sensation sending a thrill coursing through your veins.

Unconsciously, your hips begin to move, seeking more contact, more friction. He responds with a low groan, his own arousal evident as you feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you. The realization of the desire between you ignites a fire within, and you find yourself grinding against him, seeking more of the delicious friction that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you both.

As you continue to move back and forth, the intensity of the moment heightens, and Mingyu's hands tighten around your waist, his hips meeting yours in a synchronized rhythm. The friction between you builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your tongues dance together in a heated battle for dominance, each movement fueling the growing desire between you. Mingyu's groans and hissed praises only add to the intoxicating atmosphere, his words sending shivers down your spine.

"Good girl," he murmurs between heated kisses, his voice thick with desire. "So good, baby. I can't wait to feel you around me," he adds, his words sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

You can feel your wetness dripping down your legs as you move faster, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. Mingyu's grip on your waist tightens, his own arousal evident as he matches your movements with increasing urgency.

With a final, desperate grind, you both reach the peak of pleasure, the sensation overwhelming as you cling to each other, panting and breathless. You can feel your fluids slipping through your underwear, mingling with Mingyu's cum visible on his fabric.

"I can't wait to put my cock inside you," he whispers huskily, his words sending a thrill of excitement through you as you come down from the dizzying heights of pleasure, both of you eager for what comes next.

You rest your head against Mingyu's neck, still trying to catch your breath after the intense moment you shared. His suggestion of resting makes sense, and you nod in agreement, feeling a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through your body.

"Let's rest for a bit," he suggests, his voice husky with desire as he gently strokes your hair.

You meet his gaze, your eyes full of lust and hunger, a silent understanding passing between you. The desire to continue what you started pulses through your veins, igniting a fire within you.

"Maybe we should continue this in my bedroom," Mingyu suggests, his voice low and seductive, his eyes smoldering with desire.

You swallow hard, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of what's to come. With a nod, you agree, your heart pounding with anticipation as you both make your way to his bedroom.

As you stand in front of him, the tension between you palpable, Mingyu's gaze meets yours, filled with hunger and lust. He licks his lips, your eyes trailing down to his pants where you can see the evidence of your shared desire, his cum seeping through the fabric, mingling with the wetness that you've contributed. Heat floods your cheeks as you meet his gaze again, seeing the raw lust burning in his eyes, mirroring the desire coursing through your own veins.

"You look so hot like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal as he starts talking dirty, his words sending a shiver of excitement down your spine.

The anticipation builds, and you can't help but feel yourself growing more aroused by the second, eager for what comes next in this steamy encounter with Mingyu. You both silently acknowledge that this game of truth or dare has taken a turn you never expected or you did.

....... ≿━━━━༺MINGYU༻━━━━≾ .......

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spicyhamsamson · 2 years ago

Text

I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.

I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.

But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.

Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.

Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.

Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.

Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.

Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”

For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?

And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?

That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?

That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?

Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.

Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.

DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.

The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.

That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.

I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?

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lordprettyflackotara · 8 months ago

Text

more than friends || Sam & Colby

smut, literally smut w a string of a plot, pure filth, minors dni, 18+, obvi threesome

You should’ve kept walking.

It wasn’t unusual to overhear Sam and Colby talking or making noise.

After all, the three of you were best friends and lived together. As adults with busy schedules, it would be impossible to not accidentally overhear each other at a certain point.

You were fine with that. They were modest men, trying to keep the noise down so you could get some sleep at a decent hour. You typically tuned out the excessive noise they did make, their presence becoming normal to you.

But when you heard Colby’s pants and moans through the bathroom door, you couldn’t ignore it.

You froze in the hallway outside of the bathroom, the faint sound of running water from the shower hidden underneath Colby’s desperate noises.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, your mouth running dry.

It was wrong listening to your best friend jerk himself off.

But as he whimpered, you found arousal pooling in your panties. Colby was a dominate man, in the bedroom and out of it. And to hear him whimper?

It did something to you that you couldn’t even process. You held your books close to your chest, your breath hitched as you listened closely. Colby’s soft moans became a little louder, causing you to be able to hear more without leaning noticeably on the door. Your cunt was practically dripping, your thighs shifting uncomfortably.

A string of curses left Colby’s lips, the running water from the shower shutting off. You began to attempt to scurry away, a book falling off of your stack.

Thump.

Fear ran through your body as you scurried to grab it, the bathroom door opening behind you. Afraid Colby would see how flustered you were, you continued walking down the hallway. You could feel Colby’s gaze on you as you turned the corner, swiftly entering your room.

That night you stayed secluded in your room, afraid Colby would try to talk to you. You couldn’t stop thinking about being the shower with him, letting him throat fuck you instead of him having to use his hand.

You thought maybe reading would take your mind off of it, deciding to open a book. As your eyes scanned the page, the sound of Sam’s voice came through the shared wall you both had.

“You look so pretty for me. Spread your legs,” Sam ordered, his voice sounding husky. You froze at his words, his tone one you had never heard before. You could feel the butterflies swarming around your stomach, your focus no longer on your book. You knew Sam didn’t have anyone over, the blonde struggling to get over his ex.

Involuntarily you did what he said, pulling down your shorts. His next command was even more satisfying to do. You could even hear the smirk in his voice. “What a good girl. Now pull your panties to the side, let me see that pretty pussy,” Sam groaned. You felt sinful, realizing he was having phone sex with someone. His hypnotizing words weren’t meant for you, but for whoever he was on the phone with. Your fingers ghosted your cunt, trying to break out of the lustful trance these boys had put you under.

You would’ve broken out of the spell, if it hadn’t been for the moans that left Sam’s lips.

After that, Sam and Colby fucking you senseless was all you could think about.

It was all that could get you off too, your mind obsessed with the idea of your two best friends ruining you. You weren’t a virgin by any means and neither were they. You had spent countless years with them, the friendly conversations about sex not something the three of you were afraid of.

The more addicted you became to the thought of them, the more you replayed those conversations in your head.

How Colby enjoyed being dominant and degrading. Sam was more or less the same, although he enjoyed being a soft dom more.

You tried to pleasure yourself when they weren’t home. Not only was it considerate of you for their sakes, but it also gave you the ability to moan their names freely.

Tonight was one of those nights, the boys having left to go to a party one of their creator friends were throwing. They had invited you, but they knew as well as you did that wasn’t your scene.

The moment they left you rushed upstairs, throwing yourself onto your bed.

It didn’t take long for you to grab your vibrator or for your fantasies to ensue. Your mind wondered to Colby’s veiny hands, how rough he would be choking you. You bucked your hips against your vibrator, groaning Colby’s name. In front of you would be Sam prying your legs open, overstimulating you into a permanent bliss.

You moaned Sam’s name as well, your hand slipping up to one of your breast. You teased your nipple, imaging it was Colby’s teeth grazing it. You felt so filthy and sinful, whimpering for your best friends.

But you just couldn’t stop.

The idea of them gave you pleasure that was blinding. So much so that you didn’t notice your door opening.

Colby clearing his throat caused your eyes to pop open, fear shocking itself down your body. Swiftly you turned your vibrator off, desperately covering yourself up with your comforter.

“I uh, well-” You began, awkwardly clearing your throat. Cotton mouth had just become your worst enemy. Sam and Colby couldn’t help but stare at you, their blue eyes focused on you as you scrambled to maintain composure.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be at a party?” You asked. As if the two could telepathically communicate, Colby approached your bed first. Sam shut and locked your door, before rounding your bed on the opposite side. “We were going to, until we realized we wanted to spend time with you more. I think we picked a good time to do that, don’t you Sam?” Colby teased. He leaned towards you, your face flushing red.

“I think we did. After all, you’ve been depriving us of those pretty noises all this time,” Sam purred. The two were inching closer to you. You knew you had been caught red handed, the humiliation and tension of the situation only making you more wet.

Colby leaned towards you, his breath hot against your ear. “I know you heard me in the shower y/n,” He whispered. He nibbled at your ear lobe as you quietly whimpered. “I-i’m sorry I shouldn’t have ease dropped-” You began apologizing, before Sam cut you off. He grabbed your face gently but assertively, forcing you to look at him. “What you should’ve done, is gone in there and sucked his cock like a good girl,” Sam answered for you.

The blondes eyebrows shot up in amusement as you rubbed your thighs together.

“It’s the same thing you should’ve done when you heard me on the phone,” Sam purred. Colby gently kissed the side of your face, his soft lips trailing down to your neck. “How d-did you-?” You began to ask, Colby’s firey hot touch distracting you from finishing your sentence. Sam grinned mischievously as he leaned forward, his lips an inch away from yours. “Our walls are paper thin remember? You can hear me and I can hear you,” Sam purred.

Colby abandoned your neck, your body feeling like it might burst into flames.

“We heard you moan our names pretty girl. Trust me when I say we want this as badly as you do,” Colby told you. He brushed some hair gently out of your face, your cheeks still full of warm. “We need to hear you say it y/n. Tell us you want this as bad as we want you,” Sam ordered. His voice sounded the same it did that night, your body becoming putty in the boys hands.

“I want you,” You whispered. You looked back at Colby, before looking back and forth at the two boys.

“I want you both, I mean. Right now. If you’ll have me,” You admitted as bravely as you could.

Sam and Colby exchanged glances, Colby working on pulling your comforter off of you. You would’ve been embarrassed, your vibrator still between your legs and your juices still coating your cunt. You would’ve been, if it weren’t for Sam placing his lips on yours. You groaned into the kiss, Colby’s hands hungrily spreading your thighs.

“You remember our last merch drop? How we had that photoshoot?” Colby asked. Sam’s lips refused to stray from yours, forcing you to nod in response. His lips worked harshly against yours, practically yanking your attention away from the brunette between your legs. “That’s when I knew I wanted you. You and that short skirt. It took everything in me to not fuck you then and there,” Colby said. You felt a chill go down your spine as he guided your legs to open. Sam readjusted himself behind you, your back leaning against his chest.

He chuckled at the amusing sight, moving your vibrator out of the way. “You won’t be needing this tonight. I have something better in mind,” Colby mumbled. He lowered himself onto the bed, kissing the inside of your thighs. The minimal touch made you groan into Sam’s mouth, the blonde finally pulling away from some air. His pale cheeks were pink, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Desperate are we?” He teased.

His eyes darted down to your bucking hips, one of your hands having found its way to Colby’s hair.

Colby’s eyes remained focused on your cunt, teasingly opening your folds to admire you.

“Go ahead, beg,” Sam ordered. He placed a sloppy kiss against your neck, his hands grabbing your breast. You whimpered, looking down at your brunette best friend.

Colby’s big blue eyes met yours, waiting for your response.

“Cmon princess, just wanna hear you,” Colby said gently. You bit your lip anxiously, humiliation washing over you all over again.

“Please Colby, please eat me out. It’s all i’ve been able to think about. Fucking please-” You began rambling, your words stringing together. Colby cut you off, licking an antagonizing slow stripe up your cunt. He smirked as you groaned his name, your legs tightening around his head. Once your eyes met his, he began devouring your cunt.

Your cunt was dripping wet, two of his slender fingers sliding in with ease. You could feel the coolness of his rings against your cunt, causing you to whimper. He finger fucked you quickly, while continuing to suck and flick at your precious clit. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You couldn’t hold back your noises, Sam’s mouth fixated on sucking your neck completely purple. He littered your skin harshly, marking you for his own pleasure. Colby noticed this, releasing your clit with a pop. You shivered at the loss of stimulation, your hips buckling upwards involuntarily. He slowed his fingers down, but didn’t remove them from you.

“Hey leave some of her neck for me dude. She’s ours. Not just yours,” Colby spat. He brought his thumb to your clit, drawing slow circles around it. Sam released your neck, your tender skin throbbing from his assault.

“She likes it. And i’m going to give her whatever she likes, not what you prefer,” Sam argued. You could feel your walls squeezing around Colby, their argument over you exhilarating.

Colby grinned up at you mischievously, momentarily putting aside his jealousy.

“I think she likes it when we talk about her like she isn’t here. She’s squeezing my fingers,” Colby teased. You felt your cunt flutter around him, his circles on your clit speeding up. He slowly pumped his fingers inside of you, purposefully taking his time brushing against your g spot. Sam’s hand snaked away from your breast and up to your throat, his breath hot against your ear.

“You’re so cute when you’re about to cum. Your bodies tensing up, look at that,” Sam purred. You could feel the cord in you grow tighter, the boys filthy words driving you closer to the edge. Your thighs began to shake as they tightened around Colby, his fingers curling up into you with ease. “I can feel your legs starting to shake, cum for me,” Colby commanded. Your legs were visibly starting to shake, Colby’s hands relentless.

Sam’s hand slithered around to your throat, giving you a soft but assertive squeeze. “Thats it, cum for us,” Sam ordered, ensuring to emphasize the both of them. Your orgasm was blinding, your vision temporarily turning white. You had thrown your head back against Sam’s shoulder, while Colby slowly played with your cunt until you rode out your orgasm fully.

You whimpered as he slowly pulled out his fingers, a smirk on his face.

“You’ve gotta have a go at her cunt dude. Shes so tight,” Colby gloated. Sam quietly huffed behind you, the two boys readjusting themselves. He ignored Colby’s comment, Sam’s jealousy practically radiating off of him.

“Get on all fours love, i’m gonna fuck you senseless,” Sam ordered, his eyes focused on glaring at his best friend. Their tension drove you wild, so much so that you were scrambling to get on all fours.

Colby stood in front of you now, while Sam was behind you. You arched your back, flattening out your tongue for the brunette in front of you.

“You’re dripping on my fingers. You’re such a slut,” Sam commented, the sound of their clinking belts almost in unison. As Colby undressed himself he brought his thumb to your tongue, watching in satisfaction as you began sucking on it.

“And look at that arch,” Colby murmured. He leaned forward, slapping your ass harshly. You squirmed, swirling your tongue around his thumb. Colby bit his bottom lip to refrain from groaning, before guiding his cock to your mouth.

“Open up, let me see that slutty little tongue of yours again,” Colby told you. You did as instructed, releasing his thumb and allowing the brunette to slide himself into your mouth. At the same time, you felt Sam collect your slick on his cock as he rubbed up and down your folds. His hands dug into your waist, guiding his cock into your cunt. You let out a moan, the sound vibrating the cock in your mouth.

The three of you let out a sigh of satisfaction in unison, Sam bottoming out quickly.

“Oh fuck, you’re practically milking me,” Sam groaned. His fingers dug harshly into your waist, so much so you almost assumed he would leave bruises. Colby gathered your hair into a ponytail, his eyes meeting yours. “Can we move sweet girl?” Colby asked softly. You nodded as best as you could with his cock in your mouth, deciding moving your hips and bobbing your head would send the right message.

Sam found his rhythm quickly, muttering your name and curses as he found his pacing. He liked to fuck you fast and rough, barely giving you a chance to breathe. Colby was almost the same, his eyes gleaming with pride as you took him down your throat.

“Fuck can I face fuck you?” Colby asked, almost desperately. In response you tried to take him deeper down your throat, trying to say ‘yes’ as best as you could. But with his cock lodged in your throat, it just came out as a muffled incoherent babble. Sam’s thrust were relentless, his cock abusing your g spot with every thrust he made.

Colby began bucking his hips as he pleased, knowing he didn’t have to hold back anymore. The most sinful of sounds filled the room, tears filling your eyes as Colby used your throat as he pleased. “You were right Colbs, her pussy feels so fucking good,” Sam groaned. Colby didn’t let up his pace in the slightest, tugging at your hair as he forced you down on his cock. He groaned your name as you took him to the base, your nose nuzzling against neat pubic area.

“Next time we need to switch, you’ve got to t-try her mouth,” Colby sputtered, his hips seemingly fucking you on their own. The vibrations from your pretty noises only pushed Colby closer to the edge, causing his grip on your hair to tighten. Tears flooded your waterline, your gags ignored as Colby used your throat.

“Fucking take it whore, i’m gonna cum down your tight little throat,” Colby groaned. You felt Sam’s hand slither down to your overstimulated clit, causing you to only moan louder. Colby’s hips sputtered, his cock twitching down your throat. He moaned your name as he came, the heavenly sound almost distracting from the feeling of his seed flooding your throat.

You gagged trying to swallow him all, struggling to breathe through your nose. Colby slowly pulled his cock out, allowing you to gasp for air as you swallowed his cum whole.

Your moans now flooded the room, the boys names leaving your lips religiously. Colby knelt down in front of you, getting eye to eye with you as Sam fucked you harder and harder. “You’re such a good whore for us, taking both of our cocks,” Colby praised. He lovingly stroked your cheek, as Sam’s fingers circled your clit faster and faster.

“Feels so good Colbs. I c-can’t-” You began sputtering, your body shaking from pure euphoria. Colby’s hand slithered down to your throat, gripping it tightly. “I know how much you like choking. Wanna make sure our pretty girl gets off, right Sam?” Colby asked mockingly. His blue eyes never strayed from yours, assertively watching you get corrupted on his best friends cock.

Sam smacked your ass, a wave of electric shock shooting up your spine. They were ripping another orgasm out of you, your body engulfed in their flames. “I want you to cum on my cock and look at Colby in the eyes as I breed your tight cunt,” Sam ordered. You could feel your tender flesh turning red, Sam’s slender fingers surely going to leave bruises on your waist. Colby squeezed your throat, regaining your attention.

“If you close your eyes for even a second, we won’t let you cum. Understand?” Colby said sharply. You babbled out something of understanding, your brain not fully functioning.

Sam squeezed your clit harshly, your body feeling like it was about to collapse.

“Cum,”

The blondes simple command made your body shake violently, your eyes fighting to stay open and focus on Colby’s blue ones. The lack of oxygen was making you dizzy, your body convulsing around Sam’s cock. A few slow thrust was all it took for Sam to cum, his warm seed filling up your abused cunt.

By the time Sam pulled out you were trembling, covered in sweat, tears, and dripping with cum.

As your vision settled and you tried to ignore your cotton mouth, the inevitable question escaped your lips.

“We’re going to be friends after this, right?”

Sam and Colby exchanged glances, telepathically communicating before Sam answered.

“I think we want to be more than friends,”

#sam and colby #sam and colby smut #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x reader

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maskedbyghost · 2 months ago

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Stalker - part 2

https://www.tumblr.com/maskedbyghost/761077146667139072/stalker <- part 1

NSFW, MDNI

(simon is a bit possessive in this part too, a lot of you're mine exclamations lol, idk if I like this honestly)

"What are you doing here?" You asked, breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since the divorce papers were signed, and yet here he is, standing right at your doorstep. The man you once loved, the man you thought you’d never see again.

"Simon?" You managed to whisper, but when you saw a bouquet in his hands, from the same flower shop your stalker frequently visited, it all came to you. Simon was your stalker. Or something like that. You didn't know what to call him anymore.

He took a step closer, but you instinctively backed away, your hands shaking.

“You—” Your voice faltered, and you struggled to find the words. “You’ve been watching me?”

He stepped into the house—the house you once shared, now heavy with memories. "Please, love, let me explain." He closed the door gently behind him, leaning back against it with flowers still in his hands.

You stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, your body stiff with tension. His presence felt suffocating, filling the small space between you, just like the memories of all the times you had waited for him to walk through that same door. But not like this. Never like this.

“Explain?” You scoffed, unable to hide the bitterness in your voice. “How can you explain this, Simon? How do you explain any of this?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could say a word. “You ruined our marriage, Simon! You left me here, alone in this house. You didn’t fight for us! You didn’t fight for me.” Your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to stay steady.

Tears threatened to spill, but you blinked them away, refusing to show weakness now. “And now, after you’ve already broken everything, you come back as my stalker?” You could barely breathe through the rage, your head spinning with disbelief. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Simon?”

Simon stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, before he slowly set the flowers down on the table beside him. Then, he removed the mask from his face, revealing the features you once knew so well—the face you had caressed countless times in the past. Damn it. He was still as handsome as you remembered.

Not now, brain! Focus. His looks couldn’t save him this time, not after everything he had done. Not after all the damage he had caused.

He took a step toward you, but when you instinctively backed away, Simon froze. He let out a heavy sigh and stopped in his tracks. "Please let me explain, and then I promise I will leave you alone."

“You have five minutes,” you said, your voice firm, “and then I want you out.” You turned on your heel and walked toward the living room, Simon following closely behind.

Simon sat down across from you, his expression a mix of desperation and regret. He took a deep breath before he started talking. “I need you to understand something,” he began, his voice steady but strained. “When I left, I was on a dangerous mission, one that I couldn’t discuss with you. I was cut off from communication, and forced into secrecy. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to contact you; it was because I couldn’t.”

He paused, looking down at his hands before meeting your gaze again. “During that mission, someone discovered that I had you. They found out about us and used that information against me. They threatened me, they said that they would kill you, and I had no choice but to stay away. I thought if I kept my distance, they wouldn’t have any way to find your exact location. Instead, I sent a few people here to look after you, and eliminate any possible threat."

Your heart ached as you listened, but you remained silent, letting him continue.

Simon continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I had to deal with those men before I could even think about coming back.”

He swallowed hard, clearly pained. “When you sent the divorce papers, it felt like the final blow. I knew you deserved better—better than the life I was dragging you into. I signed the papers because I thought it was what you wanted. I thought you’d be safer without me.”

Simon’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “I should have fought harder, but I was afraid of making things worse for you. I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I stayed away, even when it was killin' me inside. I started keepin' an eye on you from a distance, trying to make sure you were okay.”

He leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I know I’ve caused you so much pain. But I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen. I’m here now because I need to fix this, to make sure you’re safe and that you know the truth.”

The emotions poured inside you—betrayal, fear, love, and a desperate need to understand how everything had spiraled so out of control.

"Why now?" You asked, voice surprisingly calm. "Why didn't you show up earlier?"

“I got tired of dealing with the guys who tried to hit on you,” Simon said, his voice tinged with frustration.

You were left even more confused than before. You knew he could be jealous, but you hadn’t realized how far his possessiveness could reach. “I went on a date, you know?” you said, trying to prove some point at the moment, like he couldn't keep all of the suitors away.

“I know,” Simon growled, his voice tight with frustration. “Your friends were sneaky about setting you up with that fucker, I’ll give them that. I had to sit there for three hours, watching you smile at him, before I could do anythin'.”

"Should I even ask?"

"No." Simple as that. "Fuck, I know my wife is fuckin' perfect, but dealin' with all of them was more exhausting than I ever imagined.” I small smile appeared on his face, and you didn't know what to say. This was all messed up.

Simon slowly approached where you sat and lowered himself to his knees. He took your hands in his, pressing his lips to each knuckle. When his gaze settled on your ring finger, it was empty of course, you had removed the ring the moment he signed the divorce papers. He lingered there, his expression full of regret.

As Simon stared at your bare ring finger, the weight of his actions seemed to hit him all at once. His shoulders slumped, and he looked up at you with eyes full of sorrow.

“Seein' you without the ring,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s like a reminder of everythin' I’ve lost. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you until now.”

Simon's grip on your hands tightened, his fingers gently tracing the veins on your wrists. “I'm beggin' you, love,” he pleaded, his eyes searching your face. “Please give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

"Simon....I don't know."

"You're mine," he hissed, "You belong to me."

His grip tightened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressed against yours. "And I'm not lettin' go of what belongs to me," he growled in your ear.

Simon could see the mixture of emotions playing out on your face. His grip on your arms loosened, but his eyes remained intense, staring deeply into yours.

"I know I've hurt you," he continued when you didn't say anything, his voice a mixture of frustration and pleading. "I know I've made a mess of things. But I've never stopped loving you, not for a single moment."

“Simon, I understand that you’re trying to explain yourself, and I can see that you’re hurting, but your actions have caused a lot of pain, I don't know if I can trust you anymore." You said as the tears filled your eyes.

"I know," he said, his voice wavering. "And I don't expect you to trust me right away. I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance."

He gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, his touch soft and tender. "Please, love," his own eyes welling up, "just give me a chance to prove it to you."

You sighed as Simon moved closer, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. When you didn’t pull away, he continued with gentle kisses down your neck, each kiss light. His lips traveled slowly up to your own, pausing just before they made contact. He lingered there, his breath mingling with yours, as he gazed intently into your eyes, his lips hovering near yours as if waiting for permission.

Your breath hitched as he paused, his lips hovering a hair's breadth away from yours. His eyes were filled with a mix of tenderness and raw desire. He waited for a moment, the anticipation hanging in the air. Then, finally, he closed the distance, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that was equal parts gentle and desperate.

But the kiss lasted for a moment only, he pulled back, and leaned his forehead on yours, before whispering "You are mine."

You trembled slightly as he tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling gently in that familiar way he used to do. With his lips brushing against yours, he whispered, “No matter what, you will always be my girl, fucking mine. No one can take you away from me, and I'll grovel at your feet for eternity if it means you’d forgive me.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers in your hair, his breath on your lips, and his words leaving you overwhelmed.

"Simon..." you breathed, feeling the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It's not that simple. You hurt me. You broke my trust."

His grip tightened in your hair, pulling your head back slightly, and his lips pressed against the exposed flesh of your throat. He nipped at your skin, his breath hot on your skin.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he nuzzled against your neck. “I can’t undo what I’ve done or make up for the pain I caused, but I want you to know that I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to rebuild your trust. I’m willing to wait, to earn your forgiveness, and to prove that I’ve changed. Just please, don’t shut me out completely. I need a chance to make things right.”

Your heart ached at his words, the pain and the love battling within you. The familiar feeling of his body pressed against yours added another layer of confusion to your conflicting emotions.

You reached up and gently ran a hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. A shiver ran down your spine as his breath tickled your skin, a small part of you surrendering to this need for him.

The feel of your hand in his hair and your body close to his sent a shot of desire through his body. He groaned deeply, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you even closer, his body molding to yours.

His lips moved up your neck, his tongue tracing a fiery path up to your ear. "I need you," he whispered, voice thick with need. "I need to touch you, to feel you, to know that you're still mine."

"You know where the bedroom is."

Simon smiled as he got up with you in his arms, he wasted no time in carrying you to the bedroom, his strong arms holding you effortlessly. The air in the room was thick with a complex mix of emotions. On one side, there was the unresolved tension of past hurt and betrayal. On the other, there was a delicate, hopeful sense that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to reconnect and rebuild what you once had together.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost x you

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g1rld1ary · 6 months ago

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the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

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