#hi yes i always feel happy as FUCK when i read a v long fic but doubly so when i realise that i caught up before the end

[aro-aizawa]

sighs in contentment......

[nanamisgirly]

PLEASE, STAY

↪ ( ˶ a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you. for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. and then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't. because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.˵ )

pairing ᥫ᭡。richman!Gojo x bodyguard reader. they had a sort of situation ship before.

content ᥫ᭡。fem!reader, no curses au, they're both around 30, smut at the very end, very provocative gojo (?), mean reader ig, a lot of cursing, angst, oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, mention of blood, fights scenes, broken bones, pet name (mostly sweetheart and once baby), sexual tension, slow burn, explicit language, explicit content, power dynamics, military mention (mild ptsd), gun mentions

word count ᥫ᭡。13k

notes ᥫ᭡。this is for my 200 followers 🥹 thank you for all the reblogs they are very very much appreciated!! I didn't know where I was going with this fic lmao, I just hope that some of you will enjoy reading it! I'm always open to feed back :))) be mindful this is my first long (?) fic, I threw some stuff together and hoped for the best oops

you were assigned to gojo saturo. of all the men you could possibly protect, it had to be him— you're ex-friend with benefits. 

you sat across from him at a table that probably cost more than your entire apartement, fingers twitching under the weight of irritation. the upscale place was dimly lit, the kind meant for quiet luxury. 

“you both understood?” your superior asked, sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. Gojo grinned, the same playful smirk on his annoyingly handsome face. the past nine years had only done him favors, he'd grown taller— making him tall like a damn tower— his features sharper, his frame broader. 'maybe he'd been training' you thought. ‘or it’s just life sculpting him into something even more irritatingly perfect.'

you left him when things started to be serious. back then, Gojo had some difficulties to understand he was just a sex friend. but it didn't really matter, you had to leave for the military anyway.

for a long time, you didn't want to process feelings, attachments— that was just bullshit. and now, nine years later, somehow, you were right back where you started.

you retired from the military after sustaining severe injuries. but you still craved the thrill— fights, missions, the adrenaline rush. it kept you on track. like drugs, you were addicted. so you became a sort of bodyguard. over the years, you had protected royals, rich heirs, celebrities— anyone with a target on their back. it owned you the reputation as being the best in your field. you were ruthless, cold-blooded, killing without hesitation if needed. 

your face remained stoic, your gaze locked onto gojo as he held yours. “yeah, got it. babysit the rich brat until the gala's over.” you mocked, leaning back against the chair. 

satoru chuckled, he couldn't help but tease you “oh, come on now. you make it sound so boring” tilting his head like a cat toying with its prey. “i thought you'd be happy to spend some time with an old friend”

you scoffed. “friend is a strong word, Gojo” that response only fueled his mischief. “you're right” he crosses his arms as he continues “we were never just friends” insufferable brat. “i'm here to do my job. nothing more” you said without a hint of emotion in your tone, fixing him with a glare that should've shut him up.

it didn't.

his piercing blue eyes gleamed with amusement “of course, sweetie," he purred, resting his elbows on the table, leaning in “just admit you missed seeing my beautiful face.”

you exhaled sharply, already exhausted 'maybe a small knife pressed against his throat wouldn't hurt— just a little warning.'

“what i miss, is protecting some quiet person who knows their limits and let me do my damn job in peace. this, is what i truly miss”. Gojo hummed, shamelessly dragging his gaze over you “personally, i missed that sharp tongue of yours.”

“alright, enough,” your superior cut in, his tone serious— a clear warning that he had no patience for the ridiculous back-and-forth between you two. “stay close at all times. there are threats left and right against him leading up to the gala.” he turned his attention to gojo “you don't act up, and you listen to whatever she tells you.” the rich man was clearly enjoying himself “don't worry, i love when she bosses me around” he winked at you before standing up and leaving the restaurant. like this was all a game to him.

your superior exhaled heavily, already bracing for the headache to come. then, he dropped the next bomb. “you need to stay at his place.”

you try your best to keep a straight face. “what?” 

“gojo is already informed. you're moving in tonight.” and with that, he left the table, leaving you seething.

your fist met with the surface with a dull thud. “damn it,” you muttered, frustration curling hot in your chest.

this is going to be a long, long week.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you rode to gojo's house, spending the time to talk yourself down. you had spent years perfecting your composure. you had survived war zones, assassinations, and high-profile threats. there was no reason for gojo fucking satoru to get under your skin.

and yet.

his house— no, his mansion— was perched high above the city, a fortress of sleek glass and security. the driveway alone was bigger than some of the safe houses you'd stayed in.

when you pulled up to his gates, the night was well-advanced, the cold biting at your cheeks as you lifted up your helmet. you met some guards at the entrance stating that gojo was expecting you. of course, he was.

the second you stepped through the doors, the place smelled ridiculously expensive. the living room was massive, with a sunken seating area surrounding a glass-enclosed firepit. there are floor-to-celling windows stretched across the space, offering a panoramic view of the glittering cityscape below. a massive, curved staircase led to the second floor, the railings lined with soft, glowing, light strips, guiding the way up.

the place screamed luxury— unapologetically extravagant, but with taste. just like satoru gojo.

you sighed, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you tugged off your gloves. the ride had been long. your muscles ached. your motorbike uniform clung to you, slightly damp with sweat. all you wanted was a shower and some sleep.

“you're so sexy in that uniform” his voice came from above. you looked up to find him leaning against the railing, messy white hair, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, collarbone peeking through his loose neckline of his shirt.

and that goddamn smirk.

“gojo,” you warned, voice firm. he ignored it entirely, blue eyes twinkling as they dragged over you with zero shame. “seriously, bending you over in it wouldn't be so bad.” your fingers twitched. satoru in all his splendor. 

“wouldn't be so bad if i curb-stomped you into the floor.” you respond. gojo restrained a laugh, eyes sparking with mirth. he fucking loved this— pushing your limits. “actually, i wouldn't mind that either” you grit your teeth at the comment. “just show me where my fucking room is." 

when you reached him, he let out a dramatic sigh, “not even a little peck before sleep, sweetheart?” you blankly stared at him “alright, no need to look at me with so much love” he ironically says as he turned around, leading you to your room.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

4am. the digital clock glowed dimly as you pounded your fists against the heavy bag. you slept only two hours— which, honestly was decent considering you never slept well. the military had drilled into the art of light, vigilant rest, training you to snap into action as the slightest disturbance. and staying here, with gojo just down the hall, only worsened that already unstable peace.

“fuck it” your fist connected with the training bag, a loud thud echoing through the empty gym. you did a home tour by your own after gojo dropped you to your bedroom— and to your relief, you found a fully equipped training room. exactly what you needed to burn off frustration time to time.

sweats dripped down your temple, muscles burning from exertion as you moved with precision and force, the heavy bag jerking with each impact. your t-shirt had been abandoned long ago—tossed to the side as the heat from training built up—leaving you in nothing but sports bra and low-slung sweatpants. 

“gojo, are you going to stay there for long?” you snapped as he stayed put in the doorway, thinking you hadn't noticed him those past fifteen minutes, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world. he grinned, unbothered “was testing if you could notice a threat even while distracted” you snorted “well, now that you oh-so-sweetly reassured yourself, could you fuck off?” your fist slammed onto the bag harder, sending it swinging violently.

you felt gojo's eyes on you, it almost burnt holes on your skin. his eyes darted at the sweat slipping on your back. “damn," his voice was low “i think i prefer you like this— hot, sweaty, breathless.” he insisted on the last word. your eyes flicked to his figure as he took slow steps forward. “i think i like you gone.” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as if you disappointed him “why always so hostile? i could be way more helpful than that punching ball.”

you were too fucking exhausted for this, your next punch sent the bag flying so violently it nearly knocked over the weight rack. you caught it with one of your wrapped hand, fingers tightening around the worn leather. you exhaled sharply, preparing yourself to face gojo and his bullshit. “i swear satoru—” you stepped closer to him, closing the space between you. only to realize how stupidly tall he was up close. you weren't small but standing like this— with a solid eight inches between you— made you feel very tiny next to him.

“satoru," he repeats “it's been a while since you've said my name. say it again” he leaned in, eyes lazily tracing your lips, the small hairs at the back of your neck sticking to your skin, your full breasts pressed tight against your sports bra. a strong desire lingering in his eyes as he imagined licking every drop of your sweat. he tested your patience “you know,” he murmured “i really love this view.” 

and that was it, you had enough. in no time you grabbed him, hooked your arm, and flipped his ass over your shoulder— slamming him onto the floor. before he could react, you were on him, your thighs straddling his hips, your hand wrapped around his throat. gojo eyes widened in shock— he did not expect that. but the surprise was soon enough replaced by a slow curl of his lips.

“fuck,” he chocked out “that was hot, sweetheart.” you tightened your grip around his neck “gojo, you're a fucking perv.” you felt something hard pressing between your legs. “i'm just a man." he lifted his hand, acting innocent "you kept bouncing around that bag, how could i not get some ideas?”

the worst part of all those stuff is that you were turned on by all his teasing. your panties dampened any time he made a comment over the little talk you both had in those past ten hours.

“gojo, you're a total pathetic man,” you mutter rolling your hips down harder, closing your thighs firmly around him just to hurt a little more. his pupils blown wide and his lips part sightly— that fucking bastard was loving it. “y-yeah, pathetic” he chokes out “i- i'm a- a very p-pathetic m-man." your panties were so damn soaked by now as his length presses sinfully against your core. you refuse to acknowledge the feelings, you don't need it, you don't need him, you don't need to go back to him.

you release his throat with a final squeeze, eyes heavy, dragging your fingers down his heavy chest— feeling the hard ridges of muscle tense under your touch, before you push yourself up and off him. you see his hips twitching up, as if he was chasing the missing heat of your pussy. gojo let out a broken— needy whimper, as you adjust your waistband and roll your shoulders back, trying to gather your thoughts. ignoring the aching pulse between your legs. 

your feet leading you to the door. you throw one last glance to gojo, you can see his erection straining against his pants from where you stand, aching to be taken care of— gojo's features twisting in desperation. “be ready at eight a.m. We've got recon to do.” and with that, you leave him there, fighting the urge to go back inside and kiss him senseless.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride to the venue is longer than necessary with gojo whom insisted on riding with you. you should have known better than accepting his demand. he can not keep his hand to himself.

at first, his hands rested innocently on your stomach, but as soon as you took off, he let them slide lower, palm resting on your inner thighs— fingers tracing circles way too close to your core. the vibrations of the bike only make it worse.

at the next red light, you snap your hand down, gripping his wrist. “keep your hands to yourself” you warn him “either way i'll have to cut them off” his chest rumbles with laughter against your back. “what if i don't want to?” you hear his teasing voice through the speaker of your helmet “you're never asking about what i want, sweetheart.” his hands squeezing you through your pants. “i think i'm gonna kick your ass off the bike. go to hell that damn mission” your jaw tightened, ‘why does he have to make everything so difficult’ 

the light turns green and you don't hesitate to accelerate like a damn crazy— earning some curses from gojo, his arms wrapping around you, his thighs locking firmly against yours. once he accommodate to the speed, he's laughing, slightly enjoying the way you speed down the street like you're trying to outrun the heat pooling between your legs.

you parked in front of the luxurious hotel, one of the most extravagant hotels in the city by the way. the gala will be held there, a beautiful place— a perfect representation of gojo's wealth and arrogance. “gorgeous place, huh?” he muses. “maybe we should get a room after the mission, to celebrate our teamwork.” you swing your leg off smoothly, ignoring him as you unbuckle your helmet.

when you step inside, multiple people are working on the preparations— setting up tables, adjusting lighting, and fussing over floral arrangements. you walk straight past them, heading toward the ballroom where the gala will take place. the room is massive— high ceilings with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, multiple balconies. it's beautiful, but a logistical nightmare for security. too many places to hide, too many potential vantage points for a sniper.

gojo lets out a low whistle, walking a step behind, hands in his pockets— acting like a damn tourist instead of a man with an actual bounty on his head. you walk past the ballroom, letting him doing whatever he is. you head toward the back corridors, checking the service entrances, mapping out the security offices. The staff is too busy setting up to pay you much attention— except for the occasional glance at gojo, probably wondering if he's some high-profile guest.

then something shifts. a group of security personnel moves in, just a little too fast. too coordinated. you recognize the stance immediately— trained, disciplined. not just the hotel staff. your instincts scream at you, your feet move before your mind fully catches up— you step toward gojo to warn him…and that's when you see it. a figure in the hallway, gun raised. aimed directly at gojo's head.

your body moves before your brain processes. you twist on your heel, muscles coiled, and throw your knife. it slices through the air, and the second it buries itself deep in the shooter's forearm, he lets out a sharp yell, his aim faltering. it's all you need. you charge.

your combat boots barely make a sound as you sprint toward the shooter. you're on him before he even recovers, grabbing his wrist and twisting it outward— hard. 

POP. he screams, his shoulder socket dislocating from the brutal angle, the gun slipping from his fingers. your knee flies up, slamming into his sternum. you feel his ribs shift under the impact, his breath leaving him in choked gasp before you shove him aside like trash.

“holy shit—” gojo starts, but you don't hear the rest as you see three more attackers already closing in. one of them lunges with a knife— fast, trained. but so are you. you shift sideways at the last second, grabbing his wrist mid-swipe. then in a brutal motion, you twist. his own blade sinks into his thigh. a strangled gurgle leaves his lips as he stumbles back, collapsing to his knees, clutching the handle buried in his leg.

suddenly you feel arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you from the floor. you snap your head back, cracking the nose of your opponment with the force of a fucking hammer. blood sprays onto your shoulder and the wall. your fast to slam your elbow into his throat, his air supply instantly cut off, his body jerking as he crumples to the floor.

the last guy is bigger, stronger— seems to be military trained from the way he moves. but that doesn't matter, you've had to deal with fiercer men before. when he's close enough, you drop low— leg swings out in a sweeping arc. CRACK.

his legs are ripped out from under him. he fall onto his back, gasping for air. you don't let him breathe, your fist driving down, once.

twice, three times.

the last punch bursts his lip open, blood dripping down his chin. your fingers wrap around his throat. you lean in close, sweat dripping down your temple, eyes heavy of the need to kill. “you fucked with the wrong person.” you hear a broken noise coming from his lung. you tighten your grip.

and then— clapping. 

you whip around, chest heaving. and there stands gojo, grinning like the devil himself “well, well, well.” he whistles, stepping over the bodies of the men you just demolished. “i gotta admit, that was fucking sexy” your brain is still catching up, heart pulsing with adrenaline “what the hell is wrong with you?” you snap. “we almost got fucking assassinated.”

his grin deepens. “sweetheart…” he crouches down, tilting his head. “that wasn't an assassination.”

you freeze. you hope it's not what you think it is.

he gestures lazily at the unconscious men. “that was a test.” he lifts his shoulders, unbothered. “wanted to be sur you still got it” he winks, amused.

your blood runs hot. “a test?” gojo shrugs, way too casual for someone who just watched you beat the absolute shit out of four men. his gaze drags over you— knuckles bloodied, chest rising and falling hard— and his smirk only widens.

you don't think much as you launch at him, fury taking over— fully prepared to knock that smug grin off his face for good. but this time, he's ready. he catches your wrist mid-swing. “no, no,” he purrs, his grip tightening just enough to make you aware of his strength. “play nice.” your free hand grabs the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer “fuck you and your stupid games," you spit "i can't wait for this week to end.” you see red. 

gojo's amused eyes faded into something darker. his eyes once playful, turn sharp, dangerous. “and what?" his voice is low, cold— jaw clenched so tightly it might break. "leave like you did nine years ago?” his face inches closer, his warm breath hitting your skin. “leaving without a second look?” your stomach twists. he's standing too close— looking at you like he wants to rip you apart.

your chest rises and falls sharply. your body is still burning from the fight, but this— this is worse. you rip your wrist from his grasp, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles back a step. and he laughs. an empty laugh, far from his usual cocky, full-bodied laugh. “that's all you ever fucking do, huh?” his voice is sharp. “run.” you flinch, ever so sightly. but he sees it. and he seems satisfied ‘i finally got a reaction out of her.’ 

"i didn't have a choice". you force the words out, voice controlled. gojo's expression darkens. “bullshit, you always had a choice.” he steps forward, and this time, you don't move back. if he punched you, it will be well-deserved. you wouldn't dodge it. his fist on your face would hurt less than the words coming out of his mouth. 

“you just didn't choose me.” your heart stops, feeling something inside you cracks. but you don't want him to see it. so, as much as you hate what you're about to say, you steel yourself and let it out “what, you think i owed you something?” the words taste bitter, burning your tongue even as they leave your mouth.

gojo's lips parts, but nothing comes out at first. then quietly— too fucking quietly “no.” his voice is ragged, raw. “but i thought you cared.” you feel it like a punch to the gut. gojo never says things like this. he surely is all teasing remarks and well-placed avoidance but never is he a looking like you ruined him. like you destroyed a part no one could ever rebuild— except… you.

a part of you wants to scream that yes, you did care. you still do. that you were just too afraid to stay. but you do none of that. instead, you do the only thing you're good at, you walk away. and he lets you.

for mere seconds, he lets you leave— again. but then you hear him “don't you fucking do this again.” his voice isn't a plea, it's a command. for a moment, you think that he won't let you go. that maybe—just maybe—he'll grab your wrist, yank you back, force you to deal with this. but he doesn't.

because he still wants you to choose him. and you never do.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the ride back home is fine. if fine meant quiet, tense, and filled with too much unsaid shit hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. then yeah, it is fine.

gojo didn't pull his usual antics— no wandering hands, no teasing remarks. just silence. his hands stay firmly on his own thighs, gripping the edges of the seat. and somehow that irritates you even more. 

you can feel the weight of his gaze the entire ride back, burning into the back of your head like a brand. he doesn't speak, but his presence is suffocating.

by the time you pull up to his estate, he gets off the bike before you can even kill the engine. his movements are sharp, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you, like he's debating something. you stare back, chest rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline still buzzing through your veins.

but then, with a low scoff, he turns on his heels, and heads inside without a word. you don't follow. not immediately. taking a moment for yourself. trying to gather back your composure. 

you stay seated on your bike, hands tightening around the handlebars, knuckles white. heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs. the wind bites at your skin, but it's nothing compared to the cold settling in your chest.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the next day is spent preparing for the gala. you go over the blueprints of the venue again, double-checking entrance and exist, every potential blind spot. 

the chaos from yesterday has been cleaned up— not a single trace of the fight remains. the bloodied bodies have been taken care of, the shattered glass replaced with pristine tables, the blood smeared across the walls scrubbed away as if it never existed. as if it was nothing more than a fever dream.

you analyze the guest list, looking for possible threats. you argue with gojo about security placements, mostly because he doesn't take anything seriously. “take a look at this. tell me if you recognize anyone shady.” the tall man barely glances at the screen before muttering, “they're all shady.” you roll your eyes "that's not helpful." he shrugs, stepping toward the grand windows. “i don't really care.” that pisses you off. “gojo, could you at least pretend to care?” you put a hand on your hips, patience thinning. 

he exhales through his nose, barely sparing you glance over his shoulder. and then, with a calmness that cuts deeper than yelling ever could, he says, “you're the one who didn't care, remember?” and that shuts you up. 

he doesn't wait for your response, doesn't push, doesn't linger. just clasps his hands behind his back, taking a slow tour of the ballroom, his gaze dragging over the chandeliers, the polished floors, the extravagant decor— all while completely ignoring you.

the gala is tomorrow. 

and you don't know if you're ready.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

morning comes too soon. you barely slept, torn between the looming mission ahead and the cold, unbearable silence that had settled between you and gojo. since that night at the hotel, it had been nothing but tension— thick, suffocating, unspoken. a battlefield of sidelong glances, clipped conversations, and empty spaces where words should have been. especially your words. words of regrets.

and now, as you sit stiffly across from gojo on his sleek leather couch, arms crossed so tightly your nails bite into your skin, it's clear nothing has changed. he doesn't look at you. he hasn't since that night. since those words left his mouth, cutting deeper than any blade you took.

your superior clears his throat, dragging you back to the present. his voice clipped, all business. “you'll be attending as a couple.” the words slam into you like a wrecking ball.“you're kidding” you say flatly, glaring at your superior. “no,” he says simply. and you hear gojo letting out a laugh. the sound sends cold down your spine. 

“it's the best cover. gojo is a known public figure, and he's expected to bring someone. you, on the other hand, aren't on anyone's radar. it's the perfect excuse to keep you close and avoid suspicion.” you shake your head. “there has to be another way.” you bite the inside of your cheek, gripping your own arms as if that'll keep you from exploding. this is a fucking disaster. “there isn't.”

fucking hell.

how are you supposed to play lovers when everything between you is broken, shattered, and stitched back together with nothing but avoidance? you can feel gojo's eye on you, but you refuse to meet them. you already know what he's thinking. that you well-deserved that. that you were the one who ran away from him nine years ago, without any explanations.

your jaw locks as you finally risk a glance at him. he's watching you, studying you. blue glacial eyes pinning you in place. then slowly, he tilts his head. lips curling into a grin. “well,” his voice low, with something dark. “this should be fun.”

the moment your superior is done talking, you push yourself off the couch and stride toward your room, your pulse hammering too fast. it's too much.

the air is still charged, like static before a storm. even more now that you know you're going as a couple. behind you, gojo doesn't say a word. he doesn't try to stop you either. of course, he doesn't. 

you try to convince yourself it's easier this way. easier to act like none of it matters. like the past isn't clinging to both of you with bloodied, desperate hands.

the second the door clicks shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. the tension in your shoulders lingers, pressing your forehead against the door. 'focus' you tell yourself. tonight is business, the mission comes first. it's not about him— not about your feelings.

you step into the bathroom, turning the shower knob. water rushed out, steam filling the space almost instantly. hot, scalding— exactly what you need. you peel off your clothes, letting them drop carelessly to the floor before stepping inside.

the first touch of water burns, but you don't move away. instead, you welcome it. let it wash over you, over your skin, over the lingering heat still trapped in your body from the way gojo looked at you earlier. your hands slide over your arms, down your sides, over the curves of your body, the pressure firm as if you could scrub away the past— him. 

the water runs through your hair, down your back, down your thighs, and still, you can't shake the way your body remembers him. the way it still reacts to the mere idea of him. it pisses you off. your fingers tighten into fists before you force yourself to exhale, resting your forehead against the cool tile. you stay like this for a while. letting the water scald you, hoping it can burn out the thing still curling inside your chest, still whispering his name in the back of your mind. 

by the time you finally step out, steam curls around the mirror, the bathroom thick with heat. you wrap yourself in a towel, sighing as you push the door open. as you step closer to the bed, you notice a box on your bed. black, sleek, expensive. your breath catches for a second, it's not hard to guess who left it. you approach it slowly, a wary sort of anticipation buzzing under your skin. 

on the box, a note. a small, folded piece of paper with gojo's handwriting.

‘’ sweetheart,  i can't let you ruin my reputation with those cheap dresses you own. i have an image to maintain, after all. a rich man can't have people thinking he's poor. wear this. — satoru ‘’

your breath stutters for a second. sweetheart. something in your chest tightens, flutters, pounds. you crush it, fight it. with steady hands, you set the note aside and lift the lid of the box— and you freeze. 

the dress inside is breathtaking. it's a shade of blue so deep, so striking— the same as his eyes. you swallow, fingertips ghosting over the fabric. it's impossibly smooth, slipping through your fingers like liquid, designed to mold to every curve, to hug your body like a second skin. a dress that demands attention. you take it out of the box and immediately notice the back. or rather, the lack of one. the fabric dips dangerously low. with a sort of thin white belt that wraps behind your neck, fastening at the nape before cascading down in a delicate, tantalizing line. tracing your vertebral column. a seductive dress, yet functional enough to fight in case.

you return your attention to the box. your eyes widen as you see a pair of underwear. a soft filthy shade of blue, slightly lighter than the dress delicate and teasing. the panties are sheer in all the wrong places, practically see-through, the thin straps barely qualifying as fabric. offering little to the imagination. there's subtle glittering embellishments, catching the light just enough to draw eye. 

just enough to drive a man insane. your throat runs dry. that fucking bastard.

you dig further into the box, only to find jewelry. a necklace so fine it barely feels real, elegant enough to steal attention. earrings that shimmer subtly, matching perfectly with the delicate bracelet nestled beside them.

everything about this is so intimate. you hate that your heart still reacts, that your fingers tremble slightly as you lift the necklace, as you let the fabric of the dress slip between your fingers. every single piece was selected with intent. this isn't just a gift, it's a statement.

gojo satoru is back at it again. back to his games. back to this push and pull. he's testing your limits once again. you need to show him, you need to keep your bold cold. mission. mission then next… gojo.

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

8:17 p.m. you see as you finish getting ready. adrenaline rushing through your veins. your hands move on mechanism, fastening the holster around your thigh before slipping the small firearm into place, the slit of your dress perfectly concealing it. since gojo is the host, there won't be any security checks for you at the entrance.

you allow yourself one final breath, steadying your pulse as your hand move to the door handle. tonight, your job is to protect him. nothing more.

you push the door open, and nothing could have prepared you for what is waiting for you. in front of you stand an anxious gojo, fixing his suit jacket, smoothing the fabric before his fingers nervously reach up to adjust his tie.

your breath hitches. the tie he's fumbling with is the exact same shade as your dress— his signature blue, the color of his eyes, the color that haunts your dream more often than you'd like to admit. his scent hits your nose, flooding your senses. something fresh, subtly spiced. it messes with your head, makes it hard to focus. his hair a little bit messy, like he's been running his hands through it while waiting for who knows how long.

and when his eyes find yours, everything in you freezes.

gojo stays still. his usual teasing remark falter, no lazy smirk, no arrogance. just… silence as his gaze consumes you. it's like the weight of the last few days of distance disappears, and all that remains is the way the dress clings to your body. 

“i-” he starts. “that's…you- i mean,” he shakes his head, trying to gather his thoughts. he takes a slow step forward, his hand reaching out. you don't hesitate, taking it in yours. his fingers are warm against yours, his grip tight, like he's afraid to let go. to let you go. 

he gently turns you, his eyes trailing over the open expanse of your back. he swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. “what's happening, satoru?” you tease “you finally dare to look at me, after all the ignoring these pasts days?” you tilt your head back, lifting your chin to meet his eyes. even in your heels, you remain towered by him, his presence overwhelming. gojo's eyes betray something deep— pain, maybe regret. 

“sweetheart…” he murmurs, pulling you closer by the hand that holds yours. the sudden motion takes you by surprise, a gasp leaving your lips as your body crashes into his. “you have no idea what you do to me.” gojo growls softly. the heat of his body pressing against yours, makes you weak. you can't stop the way your breath hitches.

the word mission keeps echoing in your head. you shouldn't give in, not when he got so defensive, not when you still had walls built around you. “gojo,” you whispers as his eyes flickers to your lips. he leans in, his forehead touching yours, closing his eyes. “we need to figure it out.” he says simply. “give me a chance.” his hands grip your waist, molding your body to his. “tell me why you left, please.” his voice filled with a raw, aching honesty that make your heart drop.

your brain is racing at a thousand miles per hour, your pulse drumming in your ears. the connection between you two is palpable, undeniable. your hands go to the back of his head, tugging sightly his hair, making gojo groans. you breathe out his name, your lips just brushing against his “after the gala,” you murmur. “but let's go for now. we're running late.” you pull back but the heat remains. a pretty shade of pink creeps onto gojo's cheeks. the sight of it makes you smile. 

you both reach the bottom of the stairs, and before you can move toward the door, gojo's voice calls out, low and filled with something close to mischief. “wait.”

you stop in your tracks, turning to look at him, and that playful smirk makes its comeback. he lifts your hands, then loosens his grip just enough to intertwine his fingers with yours. his eyes fixed on your face, watching for your reaction. “it's better like this,” he says, his voice mix of teasing and seriousness. “if we're playing couple, let's do it right,” he adds. you shake your head in disbelief, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “satoru, let's go now." he opens the door, the cold night air hitting your skin “i love when you call me saturo, sweetheart.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the streets blur past, neon lights casting fleeting glows over his sharp features as he drives through the city. Gojo insisted on being the one to drive, choosing one of his luxurious car— not without making a comment on how it'd be nearly impossible to ride your bike in that dress but he'd gladly let you ride him in that dress. 

the ride is quiet. not the comfortable kind, but the charged, suffocating kind. you can feel his eyes flicking toward you between red lights.

the hotel appears, tall and grand, its golden lights illuminating the massive entrance. unlike when you came checking security, the driveway is packed with luxury cars, men in tailored suits, women in gowns worth small fortunes. there're even photographers lining the barricades, flashes firing like relentless lighting. 

despite your superior's briefing, you still feel nervous. of course you have attented events like this before to protect your clients, but never were you the center of attention.

suddenly, dodging bullets in a batteflied seems far less stressful than whatever the hell this masquerade is. at least, the car windows are tinted, giving you some more minutes.

gojo feels you tense up as he stops in front of the entrance. he turns to you, bringing a hand to cup your face, tilting your chin so you meet his gaze. “it's okay, sweetheart," his thumb traces soft, reassuring circles on your cheek. “i'm with you. focus on the job, okay?” then, with an easy smile, he steps out of the car.

the moment he does, you hear people calling his name, cameras clicking furiously. and gojo being gojo, steps out with that infuriating confidence, adjusting his cufflinks like he owns the damn place. pretty fucking bastard

gojo makes his way to your door before the valet even moves. he opens it himself, hand extended, waiting. and you can feel this is not only for the show. you let out a sharp exhales, taking his hand to get out of the car.

the moment your heels hit the ground, the flashes explode even brighter, voices pitching higher, demanding your attention. gojo's fingers intertwine with yours—firm, possessive—as he pulls you closer, leaning down just enough so only you can hear. “wanted to let you know,” his breath tickling your ear “knowing what's under this dress is no helpful to hide my boner in front of these photographers.” 

before you can react, he presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your temple. then with the smooth ease of a man who knows exactly what he's doing, he lifts your hand to his lips and plants the softest kiss against you knuckles. “also, don't forget to smile.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

inside, the gala is exactly what you expected— crystal chandeliers spilling molten gold over the sea of designer-clad elites, laughter too polished to be real, and conversations laced with unspoken agendas. the air is thick with expensive perfume and quit power plays.

gojo moves through it effortlessly, magnetic as ever. he plays the perfect host, flashing easy grins and exchanging pleasantries with people you couldn't care less about. you, on the other hand, remain sharp, scanning the room, keeping your senses on high alert.

or at least, you try.

it's hard to stay focused when you're super-aware of gojo's warmth. his palm resting low on your back, fingers tracing lazy, absentminded circles against your spine. his lips graze your temple as he leans in, voice low with some meaningless observation, but his breath is too warm, too deliberate. a shiver runs down your body.

the hours stretch on, an endless cycle of fake smiles and calculated small talk. the weight of the night starts pressing against your ribs, exhaustion creeping in. you need a moment.

“i'm getting us drinks,” you murmur, pulling away from gojo's touch, ignoring the way your body immediately protests the loss of warmth.

“how thoughtful of my wife” he teases, lips curling into something wicked. you almost fall to the floor, headfirst. 

wife. the word comes too easily from his mouth, like it belongs there. you catch yourself liking it.

shaking off the heat starting to take over you, you weave through the crowd, reaching the refreshments table. your mind still lingers on gojo, your thoughts are full of him. you're convince you need him. you don't want to run anymore.

a shadow of a smile tugs at your lips. 

when you turn back— two glasses of champagne in your hand— gojo is gone.

your pulse stumbles. your breath quickens, eyes scanning every corner, every exit. nothing. where the hell is he? 

you shove the glasses onto the nearest table, ignoring the startled look of a waiter. your training urges you to stay calm, but panic claws at your throat. gojo isn't just your responsibility. he's—

focus.

you spot one of the security personnel near the ballroom's entrance, a stocky man with an earpiece and a sharp gaze. you stride toward him, voice low but urgent. “did you see gojo leave?” the man frowns slightly “he stepped out a few minutes ago. took the private elevator up.”

your stomach knots. “who was with him?”

“not sure. a few men. well-dressed.” fury spikes through you. 'and that didn't alarm you?' you could beat his ass off if it wasn't for gojo right now. where did they find those incompetent men.

spinning on your heel, you move fast, heart hammering. the gala's noise fades behind you as you push through the discreet hallway leading to the private elevators. the display shows it stopped on the roof.

your pulse spikes. you slam the button. nothing. locked.

“fuck” you mutter under your breath. you don't have time to wait. without hesitation, you head for the stairwell, heels be damned. you rip the gun from its hidden strap at your thigh and climb two steps at a time. the adrenaline burns away any exhaustion, pushing faster.

by the time you reach the the top, your breath is ragged. hand tight on your gun, you push the rooftop door open just enough to see—

and your blood turns to ice.

gojo stands near the edge, bathed in city lights, his white hair a stark contrast against the night. the wind howls between the buildings, the breeze fluttering his tie— the same shade of his eyes, the same shade of your dress.

his usual carefree stance betraying nothing, hands in his pocket like he's discussing business over whiskey rather than staring down the barrels of guns. 

four men surround him. they're dressed too well to be common thugs, but you know better—real danger rarely looks the part. one of them, a broad-shouldered man with a jagged scar curving at the corner of his mouth, has his gun aimed directly at gojo's chest.

your grip tightens around your own gun.

and then gojo speaks. “i suggest you let me go,” he drawls, voice laced with amusement. “or my wife's going to rip you apart.” he smirks “also, we arranged we talk after the gala, to make things clear, i don't think she'd be very happy that you keep me for the night.”

the men exchange glances, unimpressed. scar-lips steps forward, a cruel smirk twisting his scar. “you're worth a lot, Satoru Gojo.” a ransom situation.

gojo pinches the bridge of his nose like they're giving him a headache. “look,” he starts, tilting his head slightly. “i don't know who sent you, but this is embarrassing. four of you? to handle me? if i were you, i'd start running before she gets pissed.”

they barely have a second to process his words before you make your move. you can't risk any longer. and gojo is doing perfectly at distracting them.

one breath. one shot. 

you step out. aim. fire

the bullet buries itself into the shoulder of the man nearest gojo. he stumbles back with a pained grunt—

and gojo moves.

he moves faster then the wind whipping through the rooftop. in the time it takes for scar-lips to turn toward you, gojo there. a sickening crack echoes through the rooftop as gojo drives his elbow into the wide man's jaw with enough force to send him staggering. without pause, he pivots, driving a brutal kick into another's ribs. the crack is sickening.

you react instinctively, ducking behind an industrial vent as one of the men pulls a gun in your direction. another shot rings out— gojo's this time. he moves like liquid shadow, disarming one of the attackers with terrifying efficiency. the man barely has time to process that he's slammed into the ground.

scar-lips, despite his disoriented state, reaches for his gun again.

gojo doesn't let him. he's on him in a blink, gripping his wrist with an almost lazy ease before twisting it violently in the wrong direction. the man screams, his gun clattering to the floor. gojo doesn't let go. instead, he leans in, voice sickeningly sweet. “told you she'd be mad.”

you freeze. you've seen trained fighters. you are one. but this? this is something else. the speed, the precision, the sheer control— it's unsettling. suspicious. 

the last man standing tries to flee, you take aim and fire a warning shot near his feet. he freezes, hands trembling in surrender.

the rooftop falls into silence, only the labored groans of the fallen men breaking the stillness. the adrenaline still surges through your veins as you lower your gun, stepping closer to gojo, who brushes nonexistent dust off his sleeve like he didn't juts annihilate four men in less than two minutes.

“you good?” he asks, eyes flickering over you, concern hidden beneath his usual playful tone. “i should be asking you that.” 

“what? you think a couple of suits can take me down?” he winks, but there's something unreadable in his eyes. something he doesn't want you to see. you don't press. at least, not now.

instead, you step forward, pressing your heel into scar-lips' injured arm. he yelps “so, who sent you?” scar-lips stay still, unwilling to say anything.

the other men groan on the ground, the sting of their broken bones keeping them from trying anything stupid. gojo sighs as if he's bored. as if this whole thing is an inconvenience rather than a threat to his life. he reaches into his jacket, pulling out his phone. 

“you know,” he hums, tapping the screen with a lazy smirk “i could call someone. but they wouldn't be as nice as she is.” he gestures at you with a tilt of his head, his tone light, but his eyes? glacial.

scar-lips doesn't flinch. you press down harder on his arm. “fuck! alright, alright!” gojo grins like you just made his night. 

“contract” he grits out. “someone put a price on your head. it's big. too big to ignore.” gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “that's vague. who?” scar-lips looks like he's debating wether answering is worth the consequences. “not local”

“international” you press. he nods, slowly. “someone wants you dead, gojo. badly. all we got was a time and place.” his gaze flicks up to you, sharp despite pain. "and instructions to take you too".

the air grows thick. “me?” the man on the floor exhales “whoever hired us knew you'd be with him. they want you alive.” something cold settles in your stomach. gojo, however, laughs. it's quiet, then louder, echoing against the rooftop.

scar-lips looks at him like he's lost his damn mind. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” gojo wipes at the corner of his eyes like he actually found that funny. “man, you guys must be new do you know how many times someone's tried to put me in a body bag?” he leans in closer, voice dripping lower. “and not one of them ever succeeded.” gojo nods toward you, lips quirking. “someone wants her alive? buddy, you should be more scared of that than anything else.” 

you glance down, they want you alive. that means whoever put out this hit isn't just after gojo— they're after something he has. the implications make your blood runs cold. but you don't have time to dwell on it.

one of the men on the ground— one you thought was barely conscious— lunges.

it happens fast. too fast.

a blade glints under the rooftop lights, aiming straight for gojo's ribs.

your gun fires before you think. the gunshot rings out, echoing accross the night.

the man crumples.

scra-lips yells, trying to scrambles back, but gojo's hand shoot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up. “i'd be annoyed if this wasn't so damn prediactable.” his voice has lost its amusement. it's cold now. deadly. “you made a big mistake touching what's mine.” gojo's fingers tighten. for a second, you think he'll kill him.

but instead, gojo sighs—a sound full of tiredness— and his grip loosens. “i'd love to drag this out, but we have a gala to return to,” he says, and with that, he lets go. the man collapses to the ground, coughing violently.

gojo steps over him like he's nothing more than a discarded piece of trash. he reaches for your hand, gently pulling you away. “someone's coming to pick you up.” he adds, his tone far too casual for what just happened “be grateful. i called someone to take care of you, buddies. i only do that to my special guests.” 

he slams the rooftop door shut behind them with a sense of finality, cutting off the chaos that lingers in the air.

as you make your way down the stairs, you abruptly stop, questions swirling in your mind. “what's wrong?” gojo asks. you meet his gaze, searching his eyes, trying to figure out what he's hiding from you. he steps closer "you okay?” you should nod. should brush it off like you always do.

but you don't answer, and you feel the weight of silence settles between you. it's suffocating, you don't know how to break it. so you shake your head. you want to ask him why he hired you. why he needs you when he could've handled everything alone. you want to know if there's more to this—more to you—than just being his bodyguard. the questions burns at the back of your throat, but you swallow it down, afraid of what the answer might be.

gojo's hand pulls you from your spiraling thoughts, his touch gentle—like always when he touches you—making you gasp. his palm cups your cheeks. “hey.” his eyes are full of concern, worried. his tumb brushes over your cheek, a fleeting touch, as if he's trying to ground you. you're not sure if it's for your sake or his. 

“you're acting weird,” he murmurs, tilting his head. your throat tightens. “and you're acting like this is normal.” a short laugh escapes him, not a single hint of humor in it. his grip on your face loosens, but he doesn't pull away. “what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to tell me why,” the words come out quieter than you intended, but no less desperate. “why hire someone to protect you?” something flickers in his gaze, quick enough that you almost miss it. his fingers twitch against your skin. “you really think i need a bodyguard?” the way he says it sounds wrong—too light, too easy. 

“exactly. you don't." your voice is unwavering now, the certainty of it strengthening you. “not after i saw what you did tonight. the way you fought— it was effortless. you're better than any soldier i've ever seen.” you hesitate, the memory clicking into place. ”better than me.” and now that you think about it, you remember your punch he blocked that night, back at the gala preparations. the sheer force he used. you should have realized then.

gojo is quiet for a moment. then, finally, he sighs, letting his hand drop from your face. the loss of his warmth makes your chest ache. “i thought it'd be obvious by now,” he mutters, looking away.

it isn't. 

it's not obvious at all. and the fact that he won't just say it outright makes your frustration curl tight in your chest. 

you take a step back, shaking your head. “well, as you can see… it's not.” you cross your arms, the hurt leaking into your voice. gojo's head snaps back toward you, eyes narrowing. “you overthink too much.” you scoff, anger bubbling up despite your exhaustion. “then give me answers. if you did, i wouldn't have to.”

his jaw clenches, and for a second, you think he's going to throw out some flippant remark, something to brush this all under the rug like he always does. 

but then— 

he takes a step forward.

and another.

until there's barely any space left between you.

“maybe i don't want you to know,” he says, voice low, almost quiet to hear. the words send a sharp pang through you. he's never been this blunt before— not like this. “why?” you whisper, almost afraid to ask, but you need to go through this. together. “once you know, you won't look at me the same.”

your heart clenches at the quiet honesty in his voice.

“satoru," you murmur, refusing to back down, “you dressed me tonight. you brought me here as your date. you even called me your wife.” your voice shakes, but you keep going. “and i was scared to lose you tonight.” the words slip out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered, the weight of them hitting the space between you with unbearable force. 

gojo stills. his breath is uneven, and his eyes—those brilliant blue eyes—widen just slightly. you close your own, exhaling shakily before continuing.

“i ran once. nine years ago.” your voice is barely a whisper now. “i was young. i was afraid. and it was a mistake.” his entire body tenses. “Satoru,” you open your eyes, meeting his. “i want you. all of you. and surprisingly, i'm willing to stay. to stand next to you. to kill for you if that's what it takes to keep you safe.” you pause, your voice thick with emotion. “i'm not afraid of threats. i don't want to run anymore.”

gojo looks wrecked. completely and utterly undone.

you step closer, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “nothing you could ever say will change the way i see you.” your voice is firm “nothing.”

he swallows hard, his hands twitching at his sides like he doesn't know whether to pull you in or push you away— to protect you from people that would want to hurt you, only to hurt him.

but then— he breaks. 

his arms wrap around you, crushing you to him, his grip almost desperate. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. and for the first time, gojo satoru—the untouchable, unshakable man— trembles.

“making me go through all that," he says against your hair, "being irrefutable with me and letting me beat the hell out of four men—" his fingers gripping the fabric of your clothes like he's terrified you'll disappear. “it took you all that to finally tell me what's on your heart?”

you let out a watery laugh, wrapping your arms around him just as tightly “i'm sorry.” he lets out a shaky breath, his lips brushing your temple. “stay,” it's not a command, not a plea— just a confession. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into his warmth, into the way he holds you like he's never wanted anything more. “i'm not going anywhere.”

and just like that, nothing else matters.

the gala, the stares, the whispers— none of it exists as you slip out through the back entrance, hands locked together, ignoring the world you're leaving behind.

gojo doesn't let go.

not even when he open the car door for you, not even when he slides into the driver's seat. his hand stays on your thigh, fingers warm and steady, tracing idle patterns against your skin. every red light is an excuse— an excuse to lift your hand to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses on your knuckles, the pads of your fingers, the inside of you wrist.

you shiver, watching him through lidded eyes. “you're being soft.” gojo hums, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. “you love it, don't you?” and you don't deny it.

the drive is quiet, heavy with something unspoken. when he pulls up in front of his house, fingers still tracing slow, burning circles on you thigh, the weight of earlier comes crashing back. you shift in your seat, eyes flicking toward him. 

“what were you going to say earlier?” his hand pauses for just a second— just long enough for you to notice. then, instead of answering, he leans in, his breath hitting your jaw as his lips ghost over your skin. “you really want to talk about that right now?”

the air is charged, thick with frustration and need. his lips press against the corner of your mouth— featherlight, teasing, but you can feel the restraint in the way his fingers grip your thigh. you tilt your head, giving him more access as a sigh leave your lips. “i need to know.”

gojo groans, low and deep. his hands move— one sliding up higher up your thigh, the other tangling in your hair as he pulls you toward him, his lips finally crashing against yours.

the kiss is messy, heated, all tongue and teeth and pent-up frustration. you don't even remember shifting onto his lap, only that his hands are on your hips, gripping tight enough to leave marks. his breath is ragged when he pulls back, forehead pressed against yours. your lipstick stains his lips, smudged, messy, sinful.

“you really wanna do this now?” his voice is rough, uneven. his fingers slip beneath your dress, brushing against your bare skin. “because if i start talking now, i won't stop. and i'd rather have you like this, falling apart in my hands. or my tongue. begging for more.”

your pulse is wild, but you don't back down. “satoru.” you lift a hand, softly wiping the lipstick from his lips. “tell me.” his sigh is one of defeat, his head falling back on the headrest. “i didn't hire you to protect me.” his voice is quieter now, raw in a way you've never heard before. “i hired you because i wanted you close.”

your breath catches. gojo chuckles, but there's no humor in it. “you ran from me nine years ago,” he presses open-mouthed kisses along your neck— wet, lingering. “did you really think i was going to let you do it again?”

your eyes burn with emotions— ones you don't have time to process because gojo's lips trail lower, his tongue flicking out, teasing, tasting. "being an influential young man got me some enemies. I had to know how to fight like a soldier— if not better. as the years went by, I became even more influential. and with some quick calls, I was able to find you."

“i don't think i deserve you, gojo.” the words spill out, breathless. gojo clicks his tongue, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. his hands frame your face “sweetheart,” his voice barely above a whisper “let's go inside,” his teeth graze your skin “i'm going to show you just how much you deserve me.”

──────-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you barely step through the threshold before gojo's hands are on you again, pushing you against the wall. his kiss is devastating, all-consuming, a plea and a demand in one. his hands roam, sliding down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, like he's afraid you'll slip through his fingers again.

“you're killing me,” he groans, voice hoarse, “i need you. need to taste you.” your dress is barely hanging on, undone but still covering you like some cruel temptation, and that makes it worse for him. he doesn't pull it off— not yet. his fingers skim the fabric, then push it up, bunching around your waist. that's when he sees them.

your light blue panties— delicate, sheer, adorned with tiny pearls. the one he meticulously chose for you earlier. he fucking loses it at the sight.

“sweetheart.” his voice shatters, his breath stuttering as his thumb brushed the pearls, the fabric already damp. a pretty little thing wrapped up so nicely just for him. his hands shake when he presses his palm flat against your cunt, cupping you through the soaked fabric. “you're so wet. you wanted me this bad?”

you whimper, nodding, your knees already weak.

he drops to his knees so fast it's almost embarrassing. he doesn't even push your panties aside right away. instead, he leans in, kissing up your thighs— not just to tease, but to worship. his lips press against every scar, every mark, each one a silent promise. “my pretty strong girl,” he murmurs, his fingers squeezing your legs. “i will take care of them later.”

“satoru—”

his mouth finds the inside of your thigh first, biting down hard enough to make you whimper before soothing the mark with his tongue. then finally, finally, his mouth is on you. a hot, wet, messy kiss pressed right against your cunt, sucking you through the fabric of your panties. you gasp for air, your hands tightening on his white hair, earning a moan from him, an actual moan.

his tongue pressed flat against your cunt, teasing you through the pearls and lace. you gasp, body jolting, thighs trying to squeeze together, but he won't let you. his strong hands hold you open, force you to take it.

“f-fuck—" you breathe, fingers diving into his hair.

gojo grinds his face into your pussy like a possessed man. “god, you taste sweet even through this,” he slurs, drunk on it, his voice muffled. “missed having my mouth on you.”

his tongue dragged over the fabric, lapping, teasing, sucking, his fingers slipping underneath to pull them to the side. “Gojo—” your head slams back against the wall.

he didn't let you finish as he spreads your pussy open with his thumbs and buried his face between right into your core, eating you out like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else. like he needed to prove something.

it's sloppy, desperate, obscene.

he's licking into you with long, deep strokes, his nose bumping against your clit. his fingers dug into your ass, yanking you closer, forcing you to grind against his mouth, fucking his tongue with every rool of your hips.

“t-too much—” your body is trembling.

“been too long, huh? missed me eating your pretty little pussy?” sliding his tongue down to fuck into you, groaning when you clenched around him. you were so wet, so fucking wet, dripping down his chin as he worked you over, puling moans out of you that made his cock throb painfully against his zipper.

his arms wrap around your waist, locking you in place, forcing you to take everything he gives. his moans vibrate against your skin, needy, delirious, he's getting off on this as much as you are. “taste so fucking sweet,” his voice is muffled by your heat. “could stay down here forever.” he doesn't stop, doesn't let up— not even when your thighs squeeze around his head, when you're shaking so hard you can barely breathe.

your body locks up, pleasure tightening, so close it hurts. his fingers dig into your flesh, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking just right, and that's all it takes— you break apart with a cry, shuddering, coming all over his tongue.

gojo groans like he's tasting something forbidden, something addictive, lapping it all up, refusing to let a single drop go to waste.

by the time he pulls away, his lips and chin are glistening, his pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling like he just ran miles. your dress is still on, but your panties are pushed to the side, and gojo is a wrecked mess between your legs, staring at you like he's ready to die for you.

 “come here.” you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a flithy desperate kiss. his hands scrambled to get his belt open, shaking so badly he barely undo it. “l-let me help,” you whisper, your hands brushing his as you pull his belt free, undoing his zipper. “i want to make it up to you” you look at him in the eyes “for running away.” your hands slide over his thighs, palming the thick outline of him through his pants. he's already rock-hard. gojo let out a pathetic whimper. “s-shit, you don't have to—”

the second you slide down his boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach, thick, flushed, dripping. “f-fuck—” he lets out when your hand wraps around him. he's so hard it must be painful, a bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip.

you dropped to your knees and looking up at him through your lashes “i need to, satoru” 

gojo chokes “fuck— yeah, please—” with nothing more you took him in your mouth. his hands immediately flying to your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to ground himself

his entire body jerked as your tongue drags up his length, flicking over the tip before you sink down, taking him deep. tongue pressing against the thick vein running along his dick. you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head, your hand stroking the rest of him. it's slick and obscene, the sounds echoing in the hallway. your lips stretched around him.

“f-fuck— sweetheart,” gojo is a mess above you. a whimpering, panting mess. his thighs tensed, his whole body shudders. “fuck, f-fuck— too good, it's too fucking g-good—” he wants you to let you continue. he wants to watch you take him apart. 

but he wants to feel you. it's been nine long years for fuck sake. he just needs your pretty little cunt wrapping around his cock. “i-if you don't stop— shit— if you d-don't stop r-right n-now, i'm gonna—” he grabs your wrists, and you pulled off with a sinful pop, lips swollen, eyes gleaming.

“bed. now.” 

except… you don't make it to the bed…

you get as far as the couch before you're shoving him down, straddling his lap, gripping his shoulders. his cock is still out, flushed, leaking, twitching against his stomach. and your soaked panties are still on, pulled to the side, teasing him.

“reverse cowgirl.” you say, full of tease. his brain short-circuits. “w-what?” you don't answer. you just move, shift until your back is to him. you give him a full view on the open dress, the curves of your body, the barest glimpse of your soaked panties sill clinging to your folds.

“oh, fuck— ohhh fuck.” his head drops back against the couch. his hands finding your waist as you took his base and let your hips ever so slowly sink down.

you both are drowning. “t-toru— ahh, ‘s big—” your voice breaks. you forgot how fucking big he is. surely the biggest cock you’ve ever took. “th-that's okay, s-sweetheart,” gojo is hardly holding on, shaking beneath you. “you're d-doing good— fuck— your walls are sucking me i-in. i— fuckfuckfuck—”

inch by inch, you take him, stretching, gasping, feeling him pulse inside you.

sweat drips down your back. gojo leans in, licks it up. and then— 

he loses his patience. 

he grabs your hips, slams you down, and fuck, you both scream. his fingers are bruising, his breath wrecked against your spine, and you're already a trembling, cock-drunk mess in his lap. “t-toru— please—”

“shhh, sweetheart,” he pants, barely coherent. “let me make you mine again.” 

he drags you down onto him, thrusting up to meet you, filling you so deep you can feel him in your stomach. “ohhh— fuuuck, toru—” your hands scrambling for purchase against the couch as you rock back against him.

“that's right, sweetheart,” his forehead pressed against your bare spine. “take me— please, take all of me.” he pulls you back onto him harder, a desperate, needy little sound escaping his throat when he sees the way your pretty blue panties cling to you, your pussy stretched around the base of his cock, underwear soaked. “s-shit, your panties— fuck, that's so—” gojo can't even finish his sentence. his hands slip under your dress, his fingers finding your hard nipples and pinches them through your bra.

“satoru, i—” you sob, rolling your hips, grinding down. “that's it, ride me,” he begs, his hands palming your soft breasts. “you feel so fucking good, s-so tight—” you lift your hips just to slam back down, picking up a rhythm, and gojo loses his fucking mind. his moans spilling out in rapid desperate gasps. “fuck, baby—”

his length throbs inside you, his hips bucking up uncontrollably. he grabs at you, at your dress, your thighs, anywhere he can touch, his lips pressing frantic, open-mouthed kisses along your back. 

“d-don't stop— please— ohh f-fuck, please don't stop—” he sounds so ruined, so completely fucking gone.

somehow you grind down even harder, sending the poor guy's body jolting. he's straight-up choking, his moans turn high-pitched, pathetic, whimpering. “sweetheart, i-i can't— oh fuck, i'm gonna—” his voice breaks, shaking “i can't hold it— i can't, i can't—” 

you lean back against his chest, turning just enough to catch the sight of him— his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth parted, his entire body trembling beneath you. “t-toru,” you whimper, tightening around him. “cum for me.”

that's it. that's all it takes.

Gojo slams you down onto him one last time, a ragged, broken cry ripping from his throat. His cock pulses deep inside you, his grip on you almost bruising as he spills into you, moaning like he’s coming apart at the seams. his chest rising and falling erratically, his entire body completely ruined.

and even as the pleasure fades, he doesn't let go. “you're mine. not letting you go again.” he doesn't give you time to respond as he suddenly grabs your wrists, shoving you face-down into the couch. “but that doesn't mean i'm done with you.” his body is still trembling, his cock still throbbing inside you, slick with both of your release.

“one round isn't enough,” heavy voice in your ear. he rolls his hips once, slow and deep, dragging his dick through the mess he's made of you.

your whimper is swallowed by the cushions, fingers clawing at the fabric as he strats moving again. his pace is slow at first, torturous, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open again. then he pulls out almost completely—just the tip remained inside— before slamming back in, so deep your vision blurs.

“mhhh— satoru!” the force of it knocks the breath out of you, makes you choke on your own moan. his hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your back, fisting your hair.

“look at you, sweetheart,” he pants, voice slurred, filthy. “so wet—so messy—fuck, listen to yourself.” and oh, you can hear it. the lewd, obscene squelching of your cunt sucking him back in with every thrust. it's dripping down your thighs, coating his cock, soaking the couch beneath you.

“s'dripping” he groans, pulling out just to watch the way your hole clenches, fluttering around nothing. your slick mixed with his cum spills out. glistening, pooling between your legs. “fucking— shit” he grits his teeth, fisting his cock, slapping it against your swollen cunt. “such a pretty mess."

“p-please,” you sob, wiggling your hips, trying to push back against him. you're so sensitive, already teetering on the edge again. “please what?” his grip tightens in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips brush your ear. “use your words, sweetheart. beg for it.” your brain is mush, squirming beneath him, but you give him what he wants.

“please— please, t-toru fuck me— use me. w-want you s-so bad— need you so bad—” his breath shudders “you're so hot,”

and he slams back into you, deeper, harder, faster. you scream, your arms giving out as he fucks you into the cushions. his pace is wild, frantic, desperate— his cock found your g-spot. hitting it over and over again. until you're body is nothing but raw nerves and white-hot pleasure.

“y-you like this?” gojo struggles finding his breathe, sweat dripping down his temple. “like getting fucked stupid? like being ruined?” you can't even speak— just babbling his name.

“sweetheart, im not gonna last— fuck, i wanna feel you cum again, i need to feel it—” he moans, he swears your cunt was made perfectly for him and only him. one hand slipping between your legs, fingers rubbing at your clit in messy, quick circles.

“come on— cum on my cock, wanna feel your cum all over me,” your whole body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard you think you black out for a second. you scream his name, back arching, legs shaking, walls clenching tight around him he nearly collapses. “ohh— ohhh ‘s gooood— wrapping around my cock aghn,”

his hips snap forward, his voice breaking as he lets out white long hot creams. he cums so much, it leaks out around his dick— balls.

for a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, the lewd, sticky wetness between your legs, the faint creak of the couch beneath you. gojo breaks it with a breathless, shaky laugh. “you're a fucking dream,” he mumbles, pressing lazy, wet kisses to your shoulder. his arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“satoru…” you whisper his name, running your fingers through his damp hair. he exhales and lifts you into his arms. he carries you like you're something sacred, irreplaceable. something he'll never allow to slip through his fingers again.

"bedroom," he murmurs against your temple. “i need to love you properly.” your breath catches, a lump forming in your throat. this is different. you wrap your arms around him as he carries you through the dimly lit house, his body still inside yours, still pulsing, still clinging to every last bit of warmth you give him.

tonight, he took you like he was desperate. like he had something to prove, like he needed to reclaim you after all these years apart. but now…

now he's looking at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

when he lays you down on his bed, it feels like the world stops. like you both exist in your own universe. gojo hovers over you, his hands tracing over every inch of you. he maps your body with his touch, memorizes you with his lips, presses soft, reverent kisses over your skin.

and he pauses when he reaches your scars. trembling hands ghost over them, his expression unreadable. his eyes, impossibly blue even in the dim light, flicker up to yours. his fingertips linger on your scars, tracing them so gently it make your breath hitch.

“nine years,” his lips press over each mark, worshipping. “nine agonizingly years without you.” your chest aches. you cup his face, wiping the single tear coming down his cheek with your thumb. gojo closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like he needs it to breathe. “you don't get it.” murmuring it more to himself than you.

he looks down at you like you're everything. like he doesn't believe you're real.

you don't get a chance to respond before he's kissing you—slow, deep. it's not just hunger, not just lust. it's grief, it's relief, it's the kind of love that breaks you open and remakes you all at once.

when he finally pushes into you, it's not desperate. it's deliberate— he's trying to mold himself to you, he wants to leave an imprint of himself inside you forever. “satoru—”

“i know, sweetheart,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, your neck, your collarbone. “let me love you.” 

you do. you let him take his time. let him move in deep, slow thrusts that leave you breathless. let him pull every last moan from your lips until your nails dig into his back. his name falls from your lips like a prayer, over and over again.

“feel that?” satoru takes your chin in his hand, making you look at him. “feel how deep i am? how i'm filling you up?” there's no rush, just the overwhelming feeling of being connected— having each other the way you were always meant to.

“toru, please,” you gasp into his mouth. “i've got you,” he mutters, nose brushing against yours. his fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands above your head, your legs wrapping around his waist, your body arching into him. 

“you're everything,” he whispers. “you always were.” your chest tightens, you feel yourself shatters as heat coils in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter.

you're so full of him, of love, of longing, of everything you've spent nine years trying to ignore.

“i love you,” and it sets something free inside you.

gojo chokes on his breath. his rhythm stutters. his fingers tighten around yours. his lips tremble against your skin. “say it again,” he begs.

“i love you, Satoru.” his hips snap into you harder, pace remaining slow as if he's trying to commit every part of you to memory. “say it again, sweetheart.”

“i love you—” his body tenses, his release crashing over him at the same time you hit yours. his lips find yours as you both shatter together.

when he collapses on top of you, he doesn't let go. doesn't even try. you're still tangled together, still connected when he speaks. “i was serious,” you hum, sleepy, completely boneless in his arms. “about what?” his fingers stroke over your hip. “about calling you my wife.” 

you tilt your head, searching his face. he's looking at you like you're his entire world. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. “i don't just want you here tonight,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. “i want you here forever.”

tears sting your eyes, but you smile, brushing his hair out of his face. “then start calling me that now, satoru.” gojo grins— that beautiful, bright, devastating grin.

“come here, wife.”

( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

[normanssurvivalsite]

As you've likely seen by now, I've been reblogging nearly every Hazbin fic you have, which I apologize if that bothers you at all. I simply see a lack of the x male reader department for this show, which is ironic considering mostly all the characters are queer and so are the creators. So thank you for what you write and how well you write it! I was hoping I could make a request for a part two of a fic I rather liked "(Vox x bar tander!Male reader)" this one specifically. The reader left off having their soul contract bought and offered to be a bartender at the Vee's private bar, and I was wondering what would happen from there?

HIIIIII

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST

Im really sorry it took so long😭

Also THANK YOU SO MUCH for the reblogs is doesn't bother me at all IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE MY WRITING💗���

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, I THINK IT TURNED OUT PRETTY GOOD😌

ENJOY READING LOVELY PEOPLE

Warnings: Attempted Rape, violance V@lentino

Habit of saving

as a thank you pt.2

Vox x bartender!male reader

"I just dont fucking understand why the fuck you prefer the company of a lowly bartender over mine"

You hear Valentino's yelling from the other room, again.

This was not uncommon. Since you became the bartender in the Vees manor Vox visited the bar more often than before.

You guys spent hours talking and just because of the drinks either, he barely drunk anything cuz he was busy talking to you.

However, this of course annoyed Valentino. He wanted Vox's attention purely on himself.

"I don't." Said Vox, you know, like a lier.

"Work has just been really stressful lately and I need more drinks than before."

This was all lies. But Vox was not in the mood to be taking Valentino's shit, he would much rather go get a drink with you.

"Bullshit, I know how your work is and you blame everything on it, you dont even want to fuck me anymore are you a fucking moron do you know how many people want to get with ME."

And here he goes again. Vox was a little embarrassed though. It was true that since you arrived he was never in the mood to do it with Val, but he found himself having much more sex dreams with you.

He got red at the thought of that.

"You know what, I don't fucking care, go be happy with your boy toy; but don't you dare forget that you are where you are because of me." Ended the Argument Valentino as he grabbed a bottle from above your head, and walked out of the room.

You were silent during the whole argument. You knew it was not smart to start defending Vox you tried that once and, well, Vox had to stich you up afterwards.

"Care for a drink, sir?" You asked Vox. He was still, just standing in the middle of the room looking at the door.

He felt weird. Well, not weird, happy. But that was strange. Usually he felt guilty or annoyed when Valentino stormed off after a fight, usually he wanted to go after him. But not now. Now he felt...calm. Relieved even. He really wanted to sit down and have that drink with you.

"Yes, I would love a drink, and I've told you multiple times to call me Vox."

"Yeah I know but I didn't want to risk Val still hearing it." You chuckled.

"So, the usual, Vox?"

"Obviously." He answered back.

"Are you ok?" You asked as you poured his drink. You two were close enough for this not to be an awkward question. You were the bartender, you have comforted him after a night of drunken crying and put him to bed multiple times. He always asked you to stay. You never did. You just didn't feel ready yet.

"Getting better by the day, his antics don't affect me as strongly anymore." He commented calmly.

"I'm glad." You gave him his drink and you two continued talking.

And you talked, long into the night. Vox got a bit drunk again.

"All right mister I think it's time to get you to bed." You said smiling softly as you were about to jump from behind the bar and help him to his room.

"I can take care of him." Came a creepy calm voice from the door way. You saw Valentino.

He had a fake smile on his face. You knew this was trouble but he was kind of your boss.

"All right, sir." You just answered quietly, as Val took Vox and started to take him to his room.

"What-no, you-- (Y/N)--I, don't"

Vox mumbled drunken.

When they left the room you had a silent debate with yourself.

Yes Val was your boss. But you knew that taking advantage of someone while they're drunk was not below him.

"Fuck it" you mumbled to yourself as you jumped from behind the bar and tried to quietly run after them.

Thankfully you found them when they were about to enter the room.

When they got in you made sure to put your foot between the door and the frame so it doesn't close.

You peered into the room and you saw Val throw Vox onto the bed.

"You fucking whore, you couldn't keep your hands of the cute bartender boy could you."

He started angrily as he stepped onto Vox's screen, breaking it. You already wanted to barge in there when you saw this but when he started unbuckling his belt, thats when you snapped.

You jumped on Val, literally. And while the man might be powerful he had close to no muscles so he crumbled under you.

You knew you had close to no chance of winning. But you didn't care. You had to save Vox.

You tried to cut off Val's breathing by holding onto his neck for dear life. You might have been physically stronger he was still an overlord. A very powerful one.

You expected to be thrown down onto the floor any minute when the struggling finally stopped.

Your eyes opened widely as you hurriedly got off of Valentino.

You started panicking. What the fuck did you just kill an overlord? No, no there is no way he is so powerful why didn't he stop you.

You kneeled down and checked for a heart beat.

When you felt faint beating a boulder fell off your shoulder.

"Thank fuck" you commented to yourself. He probably just passed out.

But still why didn't he stop you.

You thought about it a but when it hit you. He was probably batshit drunk himself. You saw that when he walked away from the bar he barely managed to walk straight.

You were still panting.

You looked over at Vox and a strong feeling of sadness filled you.

You stepped over Vals passed out form and lifted up Vox.

He was lighter than you thought. You carried him all the way to your room where you knew you had a first aid kit.

Sure you could have just bring the first aid kit to him but you were not going to leave him alone with Valentino jot even for a second. Not even when they're both passed out.

After you put Vox's screen back together and batched him up you laid him down onto your bed.

This gave you time to think things through.

Even you couldn't explain to yourself why you cared about Vox this much.

Its true you have become very close during your time working here.

But there are people who you have known longer yet do not love as much as him.

...love?

You love him?

"(Y/N)"

While you were occupied with your thought you didn't notice the time. It was morning already.

"Yeah, Vox?"

"What the fuck happened?" He asked as he started touching his patched up screen.

You told him everything. You also told him that you will very likely have to leave because once Val wakes up...you don't want to know what he'll do to you.

"He can't do anything your soul is mine you are under my protection." He said firmly. He sat silently after that. Like someone who is contemplating something.

"Can I ask you something?"

He asked after a long silence.

"Of course"

"Why did you save me?"

This surprised you.

"Well, I mean I know what Val is like and...I just did what any normal person would do really-"

"No. You know no one in hell would to that for the demon that owns their soul. Not to mention this was the second time you saved me."

"...I honestly don't know why I did it the first time; I guess I just felt like...I dont know"

"And the second time."

You couldn't answer this. You knew the answer but you didn't want to say it.

"Well, you are a nice boss you treat me with kindness and-"

"No one would attack a powerful overlord just to safe their boss who is just 'nice'; try answering truthfully this time."

Well fuck. You knew Vox was a smart man but that didn't help you in this situation.

"I..." you didn't know what to do. You could come up with another lie but he would detect it no problem.

"I love you" you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The moment the words left your lips you smacked your hands onto your lips.

"I'm sorry sir I will leave-"

Vox took your hand in his when you wanted to stand up and pulled you towards him.

With one swift movement he placed his lips on your in a tender kiss.

You have never kissed a screen before but you were pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be like this.

His lips were soft but cold. It was an amazing kiss.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere." Said Vox while he let out a little chuckle.

"Because I love you too."

[nonagesimus]

20 Questions for Fanfiction Writers

Tagged by @saltyowlets and @hightowerqueen

Tagging: @no1lucanispegger @lucaniseyebrowlicker

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

My current account has 52! I do have an older account but I haven't used it in years so we're not acknowledging it here.

2. What's your total AO3 word Count?

587,325. I don't want to ralk about it.

3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

1. bloodstained with 739. It's a Dick & Jason batfam fic from 2023 Whumptober

2. dead boy walking with 637 kudos. Jason gets physically de-aged to 15 at the start of the under the hood arc

3. cast on/cast off with 594 kudos. Dick & Jason time loop fic.

4. turncoat with 593 kudos. Sypral-era Dick gets sent to run a job in Gotham as Agent 37 and his brothers end up getting involved.

5. a hero with 560 kudos. The first in my alternate red hood series, has Red Hood Dick.

These numbers are all absolutely fucking bonkers to me. Like what do you fucking mean.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Dragon Age and Batfam (I swear the batfam fics are still being worked on, they just take a long time).

5. Do respond to comments? Why or why not?

Almost always! Exclusions are generally when a comment seems like. Made in bad faith. But if you're saying nice things I will respond.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think batman, the Red Hood Bruce story that's the last in my alternate red hoods series. Which kind of feels odd, because everything in that series has basically the same ending, since they're all modeled after the ending of the UTRH comic, but it feels more final with bruce as red hood? Most of my fics, even if the ending is sad, have a little bit of hope or the prospect of reconciliation in the future, and i don't know that that one does. Like it feels sadder than the TLOU au to me, and that one's grim.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i don't write many happy endings so gotta go with a wild and an untamed thing. literally ignoring all canon plot so sam winchester can be in a throuple instead of getting pulled back into hunting.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've never gotten outright hate, but I do occasionally get people Upset particularly with my bruce wayne characterisation. I lean into the way he acts and treats his kids in canon which is not necessarily super common in fandom. But I mostly just ignore it, if something is really egregious I'll delete the comment, there's not much point in engaging.

9. Do you write smut?

Yes, and I have been writing significantly more of it in the last few months lmao dragon age got me GOOD with the smut bug.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I don't do full crossovers, but I do write setting AUs on occasion.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd be v open to it!

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not outside of like, tumblr round robins back in the day. I definitely have some WIPs that are following up some friends DA fics tho.

14. Whats your all-time favorite ship?

honestly my favourite relationships to dig into are usually. familial relationships, not ships. I guess stucky has been my longest running?

15 What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh I have spn fics I still think of going back to. most prominently finishing outs in free and it's sequels (the hunter jess fic) but also I had a case fic where dean got sam to help on a case in the summer after sam's freshman year in college that was half done, and I had a sam/patrick the poker witch WIP to round out the sam/brady and sam/paul tings I already had written.

16 What are your writing strengths?

Character voice and mood. I work really, really hard to ape canon feel, and to write extremely ic dialogue. That's what's interesting to me in fic, that's the area I like playing in.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

y'all I am SO bad at editing and proof-reading. i'm also not very good at descriptive language and setting, i'm not a visual person which makes describing what things look like complicated.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

it's very much situational for me. i'm not conversational in any languages except english, so i'm not going to throw things in all over the place. if i need something complicated and I know someone who speaks the language, i'll seek help. the most i'd put in without that would be pet names and swearing and i will do a Lot of research on how they work.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

yu-gi-oh, it is no longer on the internet, you'll never find it.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

it's v difficult to choose so many are my darlings, but honestly for reasons I cannot explain without spoiling a central conceit of the fic, code of conduct. stephanie brown is my girl. bring her back to me dc. or let me write a book for her, i have so many ideas.

[cheolism-archive]

hi katie!! i know that most of the time when i talk to you about your work im pretty much just blabbing/key board smashing and calling you amazing (which you are!! you’re forever that bitch) but i know that it can mean more when i’m more specific on why i love your work so much which !! is why!! im here!!

i’m a sucker for fluffy fics (think i mentioned it before but i have the memory of a goldfish so who knows) and first found your account bc of it, i was a silent reader for a bit before i got the courage to send that long ass ask now here i am,,, anyways!! i think the reason i love your work sm is that you’re able to write emotions v well and it’s very clear to see that the relationship between your characters are more than just surface level, it’s in the little details that matters, the small moment of intimacy shown between them where people tend to gloss over, it’s all just love and you do an incredibly job at showing that!! and your smut on the other hand wheeeeew i haven’t even gotten over an ode to dk arm when you dropped mingyu’s ver, when i tell you i had to put my phone down go for a walk and touch grass to keep myself sane i mean it

i guess over all im just here to say that you’re an amazing writer and thank you for putting your work up for people to read!!!

oh? my god? i'm actually fucking speechless (which is really hard to do btw)? i legit don't know what to do other than sob? dude? this? what? oh my god? huh? HUH?

thank you for these kind words? oh my god????????????????

this makes me feel so butterfly flutter (ah yes. english major doing english major things). i always try to convey emotion and intimacy? and you saying all of this just makes me so fucking happy? oh my god? i want to print this ask out and put it in my box of happy things saldfkjsad and when i go over the box w my grandchildren in forty years they'll be like "grandma what's this?" and i'll be like kiddies. grandma had a different life before all of you, a life where i was appreciated for writing stories about thirteen korean men <3

[izzy-b-hands]

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately? 🏆 What's your most popular fic? ✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it.

Music: Sometimes? More often than not I'll have something on, it just depends what I'm writing and why I'm writing as to what it is. I have certain playlists for when I need background noise/no vocals, some that are essentially fic soundtracks, and others that are for certain characters.

Lately I've been trying to force any of the au-gust prompts into being written, and it's led me back to a combination of David Bowie (shocking to no one, long time followers are staring unimpressed going 'yes, yes, the move back to Bowie as fic soundtrack, we've done this before' lmao), Avatar, and Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats. Brief track recs that I've had on repeat lately for each:

Bowie-Son's of the Silent Age (any version, but the 2017 remaster is v good), Cactus, Bring Me the Disco King, Hallo Spaceboy, The Hearts Filthy Lesson, 5:15 The Angels Have Gone, and the one that keeps making me feel homesick (even tho the idea of having to go back to ND for any reason rn makes me physically sick, which is confusing af lol) Everyone Says 'Hi'.

Avatar-Out of Our Minds, Let Us Die, Do You Feel In Control?, The Dirt I'm Buried In, Raven Wine, When the Snow Lies Red, and Black Waters.

Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats-this one is album specific, so you're looking at their latest live release 'Slaughter on First Avenue' and tracks: Waiting for Blood, Shockwave City, 13 Candles, Pusher Man, Ritual Knife, I'll Cut You Down, and No Return.

Most Popular Fic: I had to look this one up fkasdjlfjasfd. I don't know for sure which is most popular of the ones on Tumblr, since some of those fics haven't been ported over to my ao3 yet and my varying writing tags have been lost to time (I'll have been on here for 12 years as of this year lol)

Anyway per ao3 going by highest hits on my Stats page, it's one of my Hobbit fics which I am. Hesitantly linking (it's just v cheesy and cutesy fdsklafjsal) bc fuck it, y'all know my ao3 and could go read everything I wrote from that fandom anyway: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076085

Compliment: fjdslkafjas YOU! But okay, I'll try. I think, when I am at my best, my writing elicits the feelings I want it to. And I know, that doesn't sound like a compliment at first, but it's taken years of practice to get this far, so if it's doing that even part of the time...that's pretty good. It could certainly be worse, and I'll always be happy to be better than worse.

[phoenixyfriend]

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Fix You - Chapter 8: Hopeless Wanderer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

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Chapter Summary: Lex’s impact becomes clear. You come clean to Frankie. Frankie deals with his security in the relationship.

Word Count: 13K...dear....god...

Rating: E, 18+

Chapter Warnings: Legal age gap (10+ years), cussing, alcohol, discussions of substance abuse, discussions of PTSD, smut, fingering, oral (f rec), P in V, rough sex, one or two light smacks on the ass, exhibitionist kink, BIG BISEXUAL ENERGY, angst, jealousy, Frankie talking more than he has ever done in his LIFE, Santiago being a menace

A/N: Hi guys I’m BACCKKKK! Thank you all for being patient, I took a mini-hiatus and then agonized over this chapter for like 2 weeks. It’s an emotional one and I’m a perfectionist *shrug emoji*. I truly hope you all enjoy this chapter, it’s a long time coming and it was one of the elements of this story that I’ve thought about the most and wanted to get absolutely perfect. I’m still not sure it is, I’ve been doubting myself this entire chapter, but I can’t sit on it anymore. Music choice is a huge thing at the end of this chapter because I’m so dramatic, I made a completely additional playlist for this scene, but feel free to ignore it. I’m also working on more inclusive moodboards so if this one is a mess I am so sorry. 

Thank you to my love @sharkbait77​ for beta, military spouse knowledge, and the constant support, as well as @whiskeyyourwaytomyheart​ & @disgruntledspacedad​! Love you guys!

Suggested Songs: “Gold Dust Woman” by Fleetwood Mac, “Lover’s Eyes” by Mumford and Sons, “Hopeless Wanderer” by Mumford and Sons, “Hercules” by Guster, “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd & Rosalia, “Heart to Break” by Kim Petras, “Del Mar” by Ozuna, SIA, & Doja Cat, “Hillside Boys” by Kim Petras

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“You’re the babysitter right? I’m Lex. Frankie’s ex-wife.”

Before you can even utter a word, Gabi is struggling in your arms, reaching out for the woman in enthusiasm. “Mama!”

You clear your throat and set Gabi down and she runs to her mom’s legs, folding herself around them. Lex kneels down to hug her and give her a kiss before standing back up. Gabi remains by her legs. Your heart is pounding so loud you can feel it vibrating your ears and you have no idea why.

“Hi, yes, um - I’m the….babysitter.” You reach your hand out to shake hers and she takes it. She has a limp handshake, you note to yourself. That’s always been a pet peeve of yours. You force a smile and tell her your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs…”

“Lex.”

“Lex.” You repeat. “I’m...so sorry, I didn’t know you were coming over today. Fra-Mr. Morales didn’t mention anything.”

She squints at you under her sharp arched eyebrows, like she’s figured out some sort of secret about you. “Mmhmm.”

Fuck. I said his first name. You turn and gesture to the door to keep yourself from unintentionally revealing yourself any further. “Do you - do you want to come in? I think there’s some iced tea or something in the fridge.”

She smirks again, a repetitive shit-eating grin that’s already getting on your nerves. “No. Thank you for the sweet offer. I just stopped by really quickly to drop off Gabriela’s diaper bag. Frankie forgot it when he picked her up on Sunday.”

“Oh, okay.” You say, furrowing your brow. “But...Frankie already has his own diaper bag for her. It’s in the hallway.”

She lifts an eyebrow and tilts her head and you’re so mad at yourself you almost slap yourself in the forehead. You should have just said nothing. You drop your head and stare at Gabi, who has situated herself on the deck to watch the interaction with rapt attention.

“You’re very smart. I guess I should be happy about that at least.” Lex continues, gesturing for you to sit in one of the adirondacks as she moves to sit in an adjacent one. Moving around like she fucking owns the place. You take the seat anyways. “I’m sure you can imagine how it must feel as a mother to not be able to meet the girl who is watching your daughter, especially when her daughter mentions you as often as Gabriela does. I simply wanted to meet you.”

“That makes sense.” You agree, doing your best not to bristle at her calling you “girl”. You desperately want to get out of this conversation, be as polite as possible and gently send her on her fucking way, so you say what you need to in order to placate her. 

She leans back in the chair, scooping up Gabi and placing her on her lap. “So, why is my ex-husband keeping you from me?”

You meet her eyes, doing your utmost to remove any agitation or hostility from your gaze. “I don’t really know, ma’am, I honestly just come here and watch Gabi a few nights a week. I don’t really get into anything else with Mr. Morales. He’s rarely here when I’m here. When he hired me he just said it wasn’t necessary to meet you. I didn’t think anything of it. I figured you had your own babysitter for her.”

She seems mollified, heaving a sigh and softening her features, no longer looking like a vulture circling a piece of roadkill. “Well, then I’m sorry to have put you in the middle of this. I’m afraid Frankie has painted me as some kind of villain. I only want the best for my daughter.”

You nod. “I completely understand and agree. I’m sorry if you feel slighted that I didn’t find a way to reach out. I’m happy to supply you any of my certifications if you need or -”

She cuts you off again. “No, that won’t be necessary. I can see you’re a smart young woman. I apologize if I caused a disruption.” She places Gabi back down on the porch and acts like she’s getting up to leave, but instead leans forward towards you and looks you straight in the eyes. It makes you nervous. “Listen, I’m not sure how much Frankie has told you, but he has a long and serious history of making unsafe decisions for our family. I truly hope he mentioned to you that he is a cocaine addict. So, you can see why it makes me extremely uneasy whenever he has Gabriela with him.”

You inhale deeply, your eyes widening at her blatant disregard for Frankie’s privacy, reaching out to grip one of the armrests of the chair for support. What. The. Fuck. Anger, blinding hot anger sears through you so strongly that you can barely even make a response.

She takes your hand, misinterpreting your reaction as she continues speaking. “So, I was hoping you could do me a favor.” You meet her eyes again, but you can feel the rage and protectiveness boiling over inside you. This is fucked. This is completely fucked up and so out of line. Not that Frankie didn’t share with you his problems, no, but that this woman had the nerve to tell someone she just met something so incredibly private, so unbelievably personal.

She capitalizes on your verbal paralysis and pushes forward. “I would like you to take my number, and please call me and give me updates on how he’s doing. Should he do anything strange, or if he puts Gabriela at risk in any way, I want you to call me and I will come immediately. Okay?” She releases your hand and pulls a receipt from her purse, scribbling her number on it.

You are still in such shock at her audacity that you can only dumbly nod and take the paper, only snapping back to yourself when she stands to leave.

“Lex.” You say, and she turns around, hovering on the porch step. You're standing now too. “I want you to know that if Gabriela is ever in danger or at risk of getting hurt, I will call you. And the police. But that will never happen. Frankie is an amazing father, from what I’ve seen. And to be quite honest, you did not hire me. Frankie did. And I will not spy on him for you, because that is what you are asking me to do. I don’t know you. I’m not doing that. I’m sorry.”

Her expression doesn’t shift one iota, she only hums again. “Frankie. Yes. Frankie hired you. Yet I thought you said you were rarely around him? Still, forgive me for not realizing you had an allegiance.” She turns her head, unwilling to regard you any further as she reaches down and kisses Gabi on the head. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

She turns and leaves without even saying goodbye to you. Gabi starts crying at the abrupt loss of her mother, and Lex leaves you to deal with it, getting in her car and driving away without a glance.

“Bitch.” You say, then slap your hand over your mouth. Gabi hasn’t even noticed. You sigh and pick her up, she’s wailing in your arms and you turn to the front door, the atmosphere of the afternoon ruined. You almost trip over the giant obnoxious diaper bag she left, like it was on purpose and she knew you’d fall over it. You huff angrily. Why the fuck did she leave this shit here?

You know why as soon as Frankie returns home. You hear the truck door slam, perking up as he enters the house. 

“Hey baby! Bonita!” He’s grinning widely as he sees you, eyes sparkling as he shifts his attention from you to Gabi, who is quickly waddling towards him. You get up from the couch to meet them in the entranceway, smiling softly as he bends down to reach for Gabi. The way he interacts with her always does something for you, you’re not sure what to call it. 

As he kneels, his eyes adjust to the shift in height and he quickly notices two gigantic diaper bags lying side by side where there normally is just one. He halts, Gabi held up in his outstretched hands, only remembering to absently pick up and hold her to his chest when she begins squirming in his grasp at the lapse in attention.

“What’s -” He looks back at you with a grimace before he looks down again, as if trying to make sure he’s not having a recurrence of shell-shock double vision. But it’s there, and his eyes slowly trail back up to yours in a hauntingly vacant expression you haven’t seen from him before. His eyes look empty. No warmth. No light. “She was here.”

It’s fear. You think. He’s afraid. You meet his eyes, trying to pour as much sympathy into your expression to him as possible. “Yea. She was.”

Before you can say anything more, he blinks several times and slowly puts Gabi back down, his lips pressed into a grim line. You can see his irises melt out into his pupils to form giant black pools of rage, and you suddenly realize why she left that diaper bag. Why he was afraid. She wanted to upset him. She wanted him to spiral. And that realization only makes you hate her more.

“Frankie…” You whisper, reaching for him. He closes his eyes and puts one large palm up.

“Did she say why?”

You lean back against the back of the couch, giving him some space. “She came claiming you forgot this diaper bag. I told her we already had one. She wasn’t too pleased. She really just wanted to meet me.”

He opens his eyes and glares at the wall, his jaw ticking as the anger works its way out. “Anything else?”

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should tell him. You don’t want to upset him more. But you pride yourself on your honesty and you never would want to lie or keep something from him. “She...told me about...the cocaine. And she asked me to spy on you. I told-”

You don’t get to finish, because he finally snaps in a jerk of motion. “God FUCKING. DAMMIT!’ He yells, ripping his hat off and flinging it against the wall. You reel back at the sudden release, even though you somewhat anticipated it. Gabi whimpers and moves back behind the couch. 

He breathes deeply and puts his face in his hands. “Fuck, I - I gotta go. I’ll be back later, I’m about to lose it and I don’t want to scare her. You gotta stay.” He turns around abruptly and rips the door open, turning first towards the end table outside on the porch that held his emergency cigarettes. He sloppily starts rolling one before he moves to leave.

“Shit.” You mutter. You don’t want him to leave, you want to help him. Leaving in a huff to be by himself won’t help anything. You stand in the doorway, turning back to Gabi. “Gabi baby, I need you to go to your toy box and play with something, don’t move from there, you’re okay. You’re safe. Daddy is just sad. Okay?” She nods slowly, the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes slightly dissolving at your words and you step through the doorway to stop Frankie from leaving, but he’s still there, blessedly still struggling to roll his cigarette in his shaking, anger-filled hands.

He finally gets it, thrusting it between his lips as he lights it, huffing the first drag out harshly and makes to leave down the porch steps, but you step into his way.

“Frankie, please don’t leave. Please talk to me.”

He glares at you for impeding him, but pauses long enough that you can grasp him by the waist and push him towards one of the chairs. “Sit down for a minute.”

He stubbornly plants his heels right in front of the chair and you stop with him, the weight of him keeping you from propelling further. Frankie grips both of your wrists in his hands, taking them off him with a gentleness you’re surprised he can muster in his current state.

“No, I -“

“Sit down Frankie.” You order, and he blinks incredulously at you before…sitting down. 

You pull the rocking chair across from him closer to the open door so you can look in on Gabi before finally taking a seat, the angle allowing you to see her between the gap of the couches.

Frankie takes another drag, exhaling forcefully and it seems like he might be calming down until he suddenly stands up again and grabs the lantern off the end table, flinging it at one of the columns at the far end of the porch with a haggard shout. 

“FUCK.” 

You say nothing, doing your best not to wince as the lantern frame crumples on impact, the plexiglass dislodging from the frame as it falls from the floor. He leans back against the railing of the porch in front of you, the smoke of the cigarette curling around his ears and hair, and covers his face with his hands again.

You crane your neck and check in on Gabi, who is doing exactly as you asked and trying to distract herself with some toys. You call to her and reassure her before turning back around towards Frankie. His outburst seems to have settled him somewhat. You give him a few minutes before speaking, watching as his breaths slow down, his hands stop shaking.

“Did that help?”

“Yea. It did actually.” He looks up, face pinched in a mix of different emotions you’re determined to find out. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I just...I fucking hate her.”

You nod. “I get it. She’s...definitely something.”

He hangs his head.

“But Frankie...I told her no! She can go fuck right off with that. I’m not going to spy on you for her. She was completely out of line to ask me to do that, and I told her so.”

“But now you know.” He looks away.

“Now I know what? That she’s a bitch?”

“No. That...I have a cocaine problem.”

“You do not have a cocaine problem. You are a recovering cocaine addict. There’s a huge difference, and it doesn’t change anything about who you are, the work you’ve done to change that, and how I feel about you.”

He looks up at you questioningly. “How?”

“Cause you are so much more than that Frankie, and it’s been a year and a half, hasn’t it? You told me that.” He nods, and you lift yourself out of the chair to stand in front of him, taking his cigarette and placing it on the end table before cupping his scruffy face. He’s clenching his jaw so hard you’re certain he’ll give himself a tension headache if he doesn’t fucking relax.

“You said you went to Narcotics Anonymous, those are hard drugs. I’ve known that. And I knew you would tell me in time. The time is just now, apparently.”

He moves his head to kiss your palm before grabbing your hands and holding them in his, meeting your eyes. “I don’t deserve you.” He husks.

“What?!” You scoff. “Please, no. If every person that’s made mistakes never got to have someone ever care about them again this would be an even shittier world than it is already.”

He huffs out a deep breath and pulls you into his arms, his head dropping heavily into your neck as you wrap your arms around him. You gently scrape your fingertips into the nape of his neck, twirling his soft curls around your fingers as he sags boneless in your arms.

After a few moments he lifts his head and presses it against yours, and you angle your face into that little missing patch of hair in his stubble to place a quick kiss there. 

“Feeling better?” You whisper.

“Yea, thank you.”

“Good.”

“Oh.” He utters, and you turn your head to find Gabi hovering by the doorframe looking at the two of you, fingering the propeller of her favorite helicopter toy, the back and forth movements of the spokes comforting her.  You quickly break apart from him.

“Daddy? Yoo sad?” 

You might die. You might actually pass away. The way his brows draw in and his eyes melt, it’s so fucking adorable, your heart and your organs and every single ridge of your brain has definitely turned to goo. You just know it.

“No, baby girl, daddy’s not sad anymore. I’m okay. Are you okay? Did I scare you?” He asks, kneeling down next to her.

She sniffles and shakes her head, ever the strong little girl that you were growing to love so well. “Okay, daddy.” She reaches for him and he lets out a shuddering breath, taking her into his embrace and stands, swaying her back and forth. He ticks his head towards the door at you, and the two of you re-enter the house. He sits on the couch with Gabi and presses small kisses into her hair, gently rubbing her back to comfort her. After settling her back down in his lap, she turns to you where you’re hovering near the couch. “Fower okay?”

You look at Frankie confused as he shoots a wink at you. “Yea baby. Wildflower’s okay too. We’re all okay.”

Well, if you weren’t a puddle before, you sure the fuck are now at hearing Gabi try to say your nickname, and you can barely process what’s even going on as she reaches for you and you’re pulled onto the couch and into a three-way hug by Frankie, because every single cell in your body is composed of millions of butterflies and your brain has completely stopped working.

You close your eyes and just feel. Frankie’s arm wrapped around your back and pulling you into his chest, Gabi’s arm across your waist, the crisp scent of Frankie’s cologne mixed with his sweat, the sharp tang of freshly smoked cigarette, the gentle puffing of his chest rising and falling. It’s heaven.

All too soon, Frankie’s arm drops from you and Gabi follows suit, and the three of you awkwardly untangle yourselves. You decide finally just to watch a movie hoping for some distraction, settling on Beauty and the Beast, and nestle tightly all together under a large throw blanket, only pausing to eat Frankie’s famous grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner. The excitement of the day clearly tuckered Gabi out and she falls asleep leaning on you much earlier than her normal bedtime. You give her a kiss as Frankie picks her up and takes her to bed, turning off the movie and stretching your stiff muscles from sitting in one position for so long. Frankie has a great couch, just the perfect amount of softness to sink in as you lay down completely across it and sigh heavily. What a fucking day.

You feel the trail of a rough and calloused fingertip gliding up your forearm, swirling around and grazing your skin with the nail softly as it meanders up your bicep, before Frankie’s whole hand cups around your arm.

“Mmmm that feels nice.”

It’s dark enough you can’t see him smiling, but you know he is. “Bed?”

You nod and allow him to take your hand and gently tug you up, pulling you behind him to the bedroom where you both collapse on the bed fully clothed. You roll to face him, the two of you angling towards each other in half-moons. 

He speaks first. “Crazy day.”

“Yea.”

“Thanks again…for…everything I guess.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You did...keeping me here, calming Gabi, calming me...dealing with her.” 

“You’re welcome, but it was no big deal.”

“But...ugh.” He grunts. He’s never been great at explaining himself and his feelings, and he struggles to make you understand how much today meant to him. “It was to me. I just...I appreciate it.”

You reach out and squeeze his hand and he squeezes yours back, rolling to his back and bringing you with him to settle in his nook like you love. You nestle in, rubbing your nose into the soft cotton covering his pectoral muscle as you wrap your arm across his softer waist. The arm cradling your head bends and he wraps his forearm around you, large palm caressing small circles on your side.

“I want to….dammit.”

You lean your head up to look at him, though you’re more looking at his beautiful jawline from this angle, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“I want to talk to you about it but I’m not good at this shit.”

You hold him tighter. “That’s okay. Just...say whatever you want. I’ll listen.”

He nods, his lips twitching and you can see him swallow nervously, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he compiles his thoughts.

“She wasn’t always like that. It just...slowly started being that way.”

“Lex, you mean?”

“Yea. We met in between two of my deployments. Everything was so great at first, she was supportive of me and she got on with my friends, she stayed with me while I was away and would always write and send care packages. I’ve never been perfect but it never bothered her. She just...liked me.”

“It?”

“I would get sad sometimes, for no reason. And I can be kind of a dick occasionally.” He chuckles softly. “But she made it better. She always made me feel better. But then...we got married, I climbed the ranks, and the tours I was doing started...affecting me more I guess. She didn’t make it better anymore. She tried though, but I just. I dunno. I guess you can only kill so many people before it starts fucking you up.”

You bite your lip to stop from making a sound. You knew he killed people, he’d mentioned it once before. But this was the first time he’d ever acknowledged to you how bad it might have been, how it could have made him feel, and you don’t utter a sound that would interrupt his thoughts.

He takes a deep breath, all the thoughts in his head making it difficult for him to hone in on what he’s trying to say, so he just rambles, letting himself push out the words organically, hoping it will make sense to you. 

“When I finished, I came home and I didn't even know what was going on in her life anymore. I’d gotten so used to a specific way of living in the military, everything was structured and I got anything I needed. I didn’t know where to go or what to do when I got home. So I did what I knew, flying helicopters contractually. And then just interacting normally with people who weren’t actively trying to kill me, making small talk with people who had no idea what the fuck I’d been through...I didn’t know how to do it. And I was fucking miserable, all the time, and the things that worked before weren’t working. So I...I started using.”

He quiets, and you offer the information he already told you. “And you didn’t find much help at the VA?”

He audibly scoffs. “I didn’t even try, not at first. I wanted to do it on my own, I thought I could. It’s hard to explain...like it made me feel weak to need help. To ask for it. So I didn’t. And Lex begged and pleaded for me to do something, go to therapy or a doctor or whatever. I didn’t want to. I just...I got my first hit from another pilot on the job I was doing. And all of a sudden I just felt so good. Like how I used to feel. Just...happy. So I kept doing it, cause I didn’t want that to go away. It got pretty bad. But no matter how much she begged and cried, I couldn’t stop. And then I got caught. That’s...that’s why I can’t fly anymore.”

“How’d you get caught?”

“They did a random drug test on me and of course I fucking failed. I could barely even function for my shifts anymore. They suspended my license and I was fired.”

“Fuck. Is the suspension permanent?”

“No, it isn’t,  but I didn’t know that at first. Once I knew, that kicked me in the ass enough to realize I had to stop that shit. Lex was right, and I didn’t wanna lose her, and not even being able to fly...I can’t not fly. I can’t. I threw all my shit out and quit cold turkey.  Looking for help through the VA was kinda like talking to a wall, so I just ended up just doing it on my own. I struggled a bit at first, but things got better, Lex calmed down and I did some handyman side jobs to scrape by. I felt like maybe we could be happy again when she got pregnant. And then when we had Gabi…it was like, damn, this is what it’s about. This right here. Her. She was so perfect and beautiful, and I’d helped create that. I didn’t want to ruin her life. I wanted to give her everything but we didn’t have a lot of money. Then...Pope came home. He was working in Colombia to hunt down drug dealers or something. Asked us to do this little mission and I thought it would be a quick and easy way to get some good money for my family. She didn’t want me to go. Begged me not to. I should have listened…”

 “What happened?”

“Mission went South. Series of bad decisions and everything went to shit. And Redfly...Tom, that’s when he died. On that mission. Shouldn’t have even fucking gone. But...well, you know Pope. He’s persuasive. I just wanted to support my team. But maybe if I’d said no, maybe if I hadn’t...well. I feel responsible.”

“I’m so sorry Frankie, I’m sure you aren’t responsible, there was no way to know what would have happened. But I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to feel that guilt on top of everything else. Did you talk to Santiago about it ever?” He shakes his head solemnly, and you kiss him softly on his pec before letting him continue.

“No. It’s...hard to talk about. For us. We didn’t even get all the money we were supposed to. Barely any of it. What we did get we gave to Tom’s wife and kids cause we felt so bad. And...other things happened on the mission that weren’t supposed to happen. So I went home and was right back in the place I was before. Except even worse. Miserable and lost. And...fuck, I used again.”

“Oh, Frankie…” You murmur as he pulls you into his side harder. You slip your fingers under the hem of his shirt and rub your fingers around his hip.

“Yea...I just felt the worst fucking piece of shit. And I couldn’t get out of it this time. Stopped working, laid around and did nothing. Lex, she was just so disappointed, and when she was done being disappointed, she was mad, and she just stayed that way. She’d nag, yell, baby me, she tried everything but it only made it worse. She threatened to leave so many times, but I guess it never really seemed...real. Until she did. She took Gabi from me and left. Gabi was only six months old. Filed for sole custody and told the courts all about my drug use and how I didn’t have a job.  I was barely allowed to see her and I just got even worse. Up for days, sleep for days, not eating or drinking. It was bad.”

“Fuck...Frankie, how did you get sober?”

“Will. He came over and read me the riot act, got me up and made me go to rehab. I knew it was my last shot. I was in too deep this time and couldn’t do it myself. And I wanted it done for good, for Gabi. I didn’t fuck around. Went in there for three months and then I got out and started going to NA every day. Haven’t touched it again, told myself it wasn’t an option anymore. I needed to get Gabi back. I needed to be good, for her, and I guess for me too. Will knew a guy who worked at the airport so I got a good job there, I got a fucking amazing lawyer too and when I’d been sober for a year, I started getting visitation without supervision. But I wanted more, so we pushed and got joint custody. That’s when I hired you.”

You hum and sit up a little, moving to lay your head on his soft tummy so you can look at him easier. He looks down at you and smiles softly, exhaling a slow sigh as he trails his fingers along your hair. “Sorry. That was long.”

You shake your head. “No, thank you for telling me. It makes me feel good that you trust me with all of this. So...why is Lex still so angry with you? You’d think she’d be happy you were sober again.”

He sighs. “I don’t know. She just...whenever I’m around her she is just so bitter, so resentful and it always makes me feel bad. She always assumes I’m gonna fuck up, never trusts me with anything anymore. It feels like she purposely wants to trip me up.  I don’t...I don’t need that. That doesn’t help me. At first I thought I could win her back, but that was fucked. She’d found someone else and now they’re happily married I guess.”

“That sounds like it was really hurtful.”

“It was for a while, not so much anymore. Mostly now I just can’t stand the attitude. And she makes me feel guilty because she hates me for ruining her life.”

The two of you fall quiet for a few moments. A thought keeps prickling in the back of your head, something familiar. You struggle to grasp it, searching through your thoughts and memories like when you’re trying to find a small passage in a massive textbook. His fingers are absently trailing along your hairline, something your ex used to do when he wanted to calm you down. And then, suddenly, you have it.

You sit up abruptly and cross your legs, looking down at him. “Yea, she is mad. She’s mad and sad, and resentful, but mostly, she feels like shit about herself.”

He furrows his brow. “What?”

“Yea, see, she thought she was able to fix you before, and that changed. She suddenly wasn’t enough anymore. I'm sure there’s a lot of feelings tied up in that. Anger, resentment, hurt, jealousy that you’re doing it now on your own. It makes sense.”

He sits up straighter too. “Holy shit.”

“Yea and she became so desperate that she became controlling and that made it worse for you, and pushed her until she couldn’t take it anymore and now she’s stuck in that mode because that’s where she was last with you. It all makes sense!”

He grimaces, face pinching as if the pull of his muscles could draw his thoughts together as well. “But...but I did get better...eventually. If she’d just stayed a little longer…” He trails off.

“It sounds like the situation was just affecting her too much. And that’s the thing, she wasn’t going to be able to fix you. It was you. You were. And maybe you needed her to be away to do that.”

“Yea, Will always tells me she’s not able to support me anymore.”

“No. And if she’d stayed maybe you never would have gotten better. There’s no way to tell. So you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.”

His nod is so subtle you might have missed it, just barely bobbing his head. You’re struck by how at ease and open he looks, his eyes hooded but still so wide, and you revel in the thought that this man has let down his walls so much with you. It makes you want to do the same in return. You feel your heart rate picking up at the thought of what you’re about to say.

“I get it...because....it’s happened to me.”

He raises his eyebrows, leaning forward and crossing his legs, propping himself up on his hands with his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m a fixer too. I see someone upset, see a problem and I want to fix it. It’s gotten me in a lot of trouble romantically. I find someone who’s sad and broken and get overly invested in them, try to fix them, and then when it eventually isn’t enough it absolutely devastates me.”

Frankie swallows, panic rising in his chest at the immediate implications of your confession. Shit. Am I the same? Is she just into me because she wants to fix me? His heart starts racing again, completely unbidden, and he struggles to keep himself calm as you finish.

You can feel yourself shaking, the fear and anxiety at finally sharing this part of you that’s been buried for so long with someone you were falling for and didn’t want to scare away. But you force yourself to continue. He shared with you. You felt you owe him some transparency back.

“My last boyfriend, I was so fucking in love with him. And I helped for a while, but then...I couldn’t. He was just unable to overcome his issues and it ended up getting really toxic for me. I got too emotionally invested in his mental status. But I couldn’t leave, I wouldn’t. I was convinced I could still save him, if I just loved him hard enough, even if it broke me in the process. But I couldn’t, we drifted further and further away from each other, arguing more and more and he ended up breaking up with me anyways. But...I honestly thought he was the love of my life. I was fucking devastated. It took me a long time to recover. And it wasn’t the first person that this happened with.”

You pause, noticing he’s staring at you with wide, panicked eyes, so you hurry to finish. “I told myself that I needed to be alone for a while, and I was. I said before to you that I probably could use some therapy, and I spoke from experience. I did therapy and some personal reflection and took care of myself. And now I realize what I was doing and I’m not doing it again. But I can say from my own history, you can’t fix someone. Not with love. Not with threats. A person can only fix themselves, for themselves.”

Frankie doesn’t know what to think, too many thoughts are swirling around in his head, jumbling everything you’ve said and only focusing and emphasizing the bad parts. The parts that might affect him. The parts that he already questions about himself already. He slows his breathing, trying to regain control of himself.

“What about me? I’m broken.” He mutters.

You roll your eyes. “Frankie, you’re not broken.”

He scoffs. “I’m a little broken.”

You grab his face and make him look at you. “Frankie. The point I’m trying to make is that you have to fix yourself. No one can do it for you. And you have, you’ve been doing that. I met you after you already did that work. I’m just...reaping the benefits.” You chuckle, and he smiles, relief at the small break in tension.

“You don’t need me,” You continue. “You don’t rely on me, and I am not doing anything to do it for you. I like you for you, and I liked you before I knew anything. Please believe that. I don’t do that anymore. I just...wanted you to know because it’s my past, cause you shared yours with me.”

He nods, focusing on the words coming from your mouth and not the negative thoughts in his head. You trusted him. You shared something deep about yourself with him. It’s been so long since he’s been trusted so implicitly, and suddenly the meaning of it overwhelms him with affection and he surges forward to kiss your lips with a force that almost winds you, practically sucking your lips into his mouth with its veracity. When you finally part with heavy breaths, he pulls you back down with him with a sigh. You reach up and cup his face with your hand, sliding your thumb along the muscles of his jaw. 

“Jesus Frankie, your jaw muscles are hard as a rock! Does it hurt?”

He grunts and shrugs, and you move off him and push at his shoulder. “Turn around.”

He rolls so he’s on his side facing away from you, and you lay behind him with enough distance to start rubbing your fingers around the muscles of the back of his neck, slowly working out the tension and crunchy knots as you move towards his jaw.

“Mmph...that feels good.” 

You kiss the center of his strong back right between the shoulderblades, trailing your nose up and down his spine. He hums and you can feel his muscles melt down, the stiffness of his frame settling and releasing into the mattress.

After a long while you stop, he turns around to face you. You wrap your arms around his waist and curl your body into his as much as you can. He puts his chin on top of your head and threads his fingers into your scalp, curling his palm around the curve of your head.

“Thank you. I owe you one.” He slurs sleepily without thinking about it.

“Hmmm.” You smirk, even though he can’t see it. “I’ll think of a way to collect.”

Frankie groans softly. “It’s not going to be a massage, is it?”

“Nope.”

“I’m not going.”

You just laugh, nuzzling into his chest as the two of you fall asleep.

Frankie wakes before you, eyes jolting open for no discernable reason until he feels the tingling flutters in his chest. The room is dark except for the lamp on the nightstand he’d forgotten to turn off, the windows still dark enough he knew it was not yet morning. 

He rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes, stretching his tight muscles as he realizes he’s still fully dressed in his jeans and t-shirt. The two of you had dislodged at some point, you were a couple feet away, facing him with your arms slightly stretched out in front of you. You looked peaceful. 

He’s envious of it, but now that he’s awake, he can’t help but think about what the two of you had talked about, unable to settle down and go back to sleep.

I find someone who’s sad and broken and get overly invested in them. 

I try to fix them. 

When it eventually isn’t enough it absolutely devastates me.

And fuck, he can’t help but wonder if you are doing it again, despite your protestations. He is a mess, a broken mess who can’t help but ruin everything despite how hard he tries, he knows that, and he wonders if you sensed that and were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His heart clenches in his chest at the thought that he was just satisfying a fixation for you, that your involvement and attraction to him might be based on something deeply rooted and potentially harmful. It fucking hurts. And it scares the shit out of him. 

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair, rubbing his forehead as his hand returns to his side, exhaling a heavy sigh. 

Stop. Just...stop. 

He can’t think this way. He knows he can’t. He’s been taught and taught not to allow thoughts like these to overwhelm his logic. He takes another deep centering breath and turns on his side to look at you, look at your face, at the way you almost could be reaching for him, and reminds himself what else you said.

I realize what I was doing and I’m not doing it again.

You have to fix yourself. And you have, you’ve been doing that. I met you after...

You don’t need me. You don’t rely on me.

“But I do need you…” He chuckles softly, reaching out to tuck a stray chunk of hair behind your ear. Your brows pinch together slightly and your head shifts slightly towards his hand, as if you can feel him through your haze of sleep. He marvels at how you’re always so responsive to him, always in tune with him even if you aren’t aware of it. 

No. There is a connection here. And it’s more than just some sort of complex. You haven’t helped him do anything. You’ve just been there...supporting him. Never pushing, never controlling. Just a caring ray of light at his side that just exists there. That wants to exist with him.

But maybe both are true. And if they are, and he ruins it, then what? 

He will devastate you.

And suddenly, he needs. He just needs, possessively and desperately, to know that you're irrefutably his, at least for now. He needs to know and feel that he’s yours. He needs you to wake up, he needs to distract himself, he needs you to push these thoughts away because if he thinks about it, if he just sits here and thinks about how deeply he’s falling for you and the fact that everything, everything in his life he manages to screw up, he will fucking lose it. 

“Baby…” He whispers, caressing his thumb against your temple. “Hey...wake up.” He moves his hand to your shoulder, nudging you gently, your eyes cracking open to his hazy silhouette in the dim light.

“Frankie…” You mumble, smiling sleepily. He pulls his hand away and you turn and stretch. “Shit. Did we fall asleep?”

“Yea.”

He reaches out again, cupping the back of your neck as he shuffles his body to yours. You meet him at the mouth, slanting your lips against his briefly when he’s close enough. Before you can pull away completely, he’s kissing you again, soft little pecks intermittently interrupted by lip sucking kisses as if he hoped to inhale you, eventually rolling you so you’re on your back, his weight firmly pressed between your thighs. He’s breathing slow but heavy, his eyes darting between yours with such a blatant intensity you struggle not to look away at the rawness of it.

He kisses you again, nibbles your lower lip and wets his tongue against it before letting it go, and you tilt your head to meet his kiss more, reciprocating by sliding your tongue into his mouth. He whimpers, a sound so filled with desperation and longing you can’t help but cant you hips into his despite your grogginess. He’s already wanting, pressing insistently against your jean covered groin.

“Need you.” He pants in between kisses. And how can you resist when he sounds like that? His hips move rhythmically against yours, a slow rocking back and forth and you respond to his plea by pushing his soft cotton shirt over his waist, trailing your fingers along his ribs as and up around his nipples as he pulls it off. He shivers under your touch, fumbling with the button of your jeans, struggling to open them in his shaking fingers. You push him off, settling him on his back as you stand and remove your jeans, shirt, and bra, crawling up to him and straddling his hips to do the same for his own jeans. His eyes are large, round, eyebrows tilting up, almost looking like a begging puppy. Begging for a pet, begging for praise, begging for your love. He closes his eyes and sighs as you pull his pants and boxers off, his need for you standing proudly for your attention.

You clamber back over him, cupping his face with your hands and kiss him deeply. He whimpers again, fucking raw and slightly unhinged as you feel his cock brush against the fabric of your panties. You can feel his pre-cum wetting a patch against the cotton. He raises his hands and plays with the seam of them at your waist but pauses there, as if waiting for your permission. He’s quiet, so very quiet, more than he usually is when the two of you fuck each other.

“Cat,” You whisper, stroking your thumbs under his eyes and across his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I just need to feel you.” He pulls your hips down on him, moaning softly. “Fuck me, please.”

You stand and shuck off your underwear before swinging your leg and settling back over him, your folds sliding against the rigid line of his cock. You gyrate against him, watching his expressions shift and morph as he chases the feeling, letting you have complete control over his pleasure. It’s...intoxicating. You finally lift up enough to grab his length and tease it through your wetness, smearing it around even more before slipping him into you and sheathing him completely inside you, the perfect stretch of him making you gasp as you sink down flush with his hips. You both moan together and he reaches for your hips with his hands, but you grab them and push them back down at his sides. Something about his neediness stirs you, and you just want to give, Want him to just take.

“You want me to fuck you?” You murmur. “Then let me fuck you..” 

“Fucccckkk.” He groans, tossing his neck back, the chords of muscles and tendons heaving out as he swallows roughly. You start moving and he wriggles under your hands but you push them down harder. 

“You need me?” You husk as you begin moving slowly, rolling your hips against his. “Let me give you me, how I want. You just take. Let me take care of you. You always take care of me, let me take care of you.” He keens under your words, it’s so fucking beautiful hearing him at your mercy. It makes you feel powerful, like his fucking goddess. He strains against you again on impulse, lifting his hips to try and grind into you, his tummy puffing out with heavy, lust filled breaths. 

“Be good Frankie.” You take his hands and pull them over his head, pressing down into him as your chest brushes his. You can feel his forearms flexing under you as he resists straining against you to try and reach up to cup your breasts as your chests touch. He growls as you roll your hips, languidly building up to move faster and faster, periodically grinding down onto him and sending him so deep inside you your eyes roll back in your head. The hair above his cock creates the perfect friction for you to graze and slide against, and you feel yourself climbing, climbing so close to where you need to be, the sound of him muttering sporadically under his breath and his balls slapping the lips of your pussy each time you roll back spurring you on.

“Jesus Christ...you’re so fucking beautiful...feel so fucking good around me...” He cuts himself off with a loud groan as impale yourself with a particularly sharp thrust, your thighs trembling because you’re still just waking up and you’re already so close.. So fucking close at how he’s wriggling under you, the way he’s baring his teeth, the ways his eyes are shut so tight they are only small little half moons, the way your nipples are rubbing against his chest, the way every muscle in his body is taut as a drum to keep from touching you and letting you ride him to oblivion, the way he’s whimpering under you and FUCK you’re there, you push up and slam your pussy down onto him as you cum, swiveling your hips enough for his groin to press into your clit while the pleasure shockwaves through you. You slam your eyes shut as colors pop behind your eyelids, crying out as you gush around him.

You almost collapse onto him from the effort, but force yourself not to because you want to give him what he needs, give him yourself without having to work for it, so he can just feel you and release. You sit back up and bounce on him, sliding him almost entirely out of you then falling back down, your palms spread open on his chest as you ride him. His heartbeat is racing and you can feel a sheen of sweat gathering under your palms that you’re not sure is his or yours. You can feel yourself tiring and you push not to slow down, leaning forward slightly on your hands to help with your momentum. 

And he's being so good, his hands clenched into fists at his sides like you asked him to and his begs and pleas give you the strength you need to slide him into you just right, clenching around the drag of his cock.

 “Shit - don’t stop baby, just like that…” 

And you don’t. You lift and fall harder, faster, panting with effort at how good he feels as he looks into your eyes. Your mouth is gaping open in pleasure and your brows screwing upwards and he stiffens, throwing his head back into the pillow, practically shouting out your name as you feel him spurt inside you, his hips gaining their own autonomy and pushing up into you as he cums and cums inside your heat. 

You coo and praise him as he comes back to himself, pulling you to him to rest your forehead on his, your noses touching, your lips a hair’s breadth away as you breathe into each other.

“Fuck...that was…” He can’t even finish the sentence he’s so fucked out, and he huffs a laugh as you slip off him and collapse to his side. He wraps his arms around you, cradling you into him as if could absorb you into him, like he can’t bear to separate an inch from your warmth and your love. Because that’s what you tried to give him, your love, so he can feel it and know even if you can’t say it yet.

I’m in love with you.

Frankie chugs his drink. The music around him is thrumming to a level that is annoying, the bluish hue of the club seems to be vibrating and pulsating off the walls as it ebbs and flows with the lights. He hates it. 

He’d walked right into it and he’d almost laugh if he wasn’t so irritated. Santiago, Benny, Dali, and you had been trying to talk him and Will to go out dancing for weeks, and after Will had finally given in, Frankie was the last stronghold. Which crumbled the other night when he’d stupidly told you “I owe you one.” God dammit. You sure knew how to capitalize. He wouldn’t forget it again.

But maybe he needs to fucking loosen up. He’s surrounded by his friends, and everyone else is laughing and having a good time. The club is a new find of Santiago’s, finally taking the time to explore the neighborhood of his new place. He supposes it’s nice, an ocean inspired fusion club that he would never step into himself. 

You’ve been gone for some time, so he sweeps his eyes across the long line of the bar to find you. After Santiago and Benny had supplied the first two rounds, you’d demanded the next round was on you. He finally finds you, the shimmer of your champagne colored top reflecting the blue lights to make you look almost bioluminescent as you assert your place in line at the bar, immediately tensing when he sees what’s going on. Two men are talking to you as the bartender prepares the tray with everyone’s orders, and you’re waving your hands around frantically, your mouth opening widely to yell at them over the music. You look uncomfortable.

Motherfuckers. You’re getting hit on, he can see it in the way one of the men moves close to you and has the gall to place his hand on your hip and whisper in your ear. Frankie’s almost halfway across the table when he sees you pushing the stranger back, motioning over to the table and sweeping your arm in a circular motion while shaking your head. He wonders if he should just go over there anyway, but before he can move, the two men back off. The bartender finishes and he moves around the bar to escort you back to your table to serve everyone their drinks.

You scoot into the booth next to Frankie and kiss him on the cheek. “Hey baby.” 

He grunts and tips his head back towards the bar. “What was all that?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, just some assholes who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Need us to go beat the shit out of them?” Benny says enthusiastically. Frankie chuckles, pulling you in by the waist tighter to him.

“Nah, I took care of it. They only spoke Spanish but I think I was pretty clear. Might have insinuated to them all of you loved me and were my boyfriends though, to get them to back off.”

Santiago perks up. “All of us? That’s hot. You know I’d be your extra boyfriend any time, Gorgeous.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You laugh and roll your eyes.

Frankie sighs and rubs his face with his palm. “Now you’ve started it.”

“Started what?”

“Frankie never likes to share.” Santiago whines teasingly. 

“Shut the fuck up, I share everything with you guys, just not my girlfriend.”

You make eye contact with Dali, who is struggling not to laugh.

“Well she just said we were all her boyfriends!” Benny chimes in.

“To random men whose attention I don’t want, yea. I only have eyes for my Frankie. But you can all be my platonic boyfriends.” You bat your eyelashes then look over at Dali, making sure she’s okay you are including Will in this. 

Will laughs and slaps Benny in the chest. “We know darlin’, we’re just messin’ with ya.”

“I wasn’t.” Pope grumbles.

“Shutup Pope. Now who’s dancing?!” You look over at Frankie pointedly and he puts his hands up.

“No. Absolutely not. You’re gonna have to ask one of your ‘other boyfriends’.”

You glare at him. “You dance at home with me and Gabi all the time.”

“Yea...but that’s in private.”

Santiago almost trips over himself to get up. “I got you.” 

He grabs your hand and moves to the dance floor, Benny following closely behind yelling, “Fine, but I get next song.”

“Babe, you coming?” Dali turns to Will. 

“Not much of a dancer either Sunshine, you go and have fun with Benny.” She leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek before following the rest of the group.

{Blinding Lights by The Weeknd & Rosalia}

The song shifts to one you’re well familiar with as you weave into the crowd behind Santiago. 

“Ooooo, I love this one!” You’re thrown for a loop for a second when the lyrics come in with a female voice. “Oh nevermind, I haven’t heard this version!” You freeze momentarily until Santiago grabs your wrists, slowly starting to move his hips in a step you’re not familiar with.

“I don’t know how to do this dance!” You yell to him over the blaring music. From the corner of your eye, you can see Dali and Benny are dancing together. Benny is...a terrible dancer, but it loosens you up as you focus on Santiago.

“It’s called bachata!” Santiago yells over the thrum of the bass. “Here I’ll show you.” You patiently watch, swaying with the music as you memorize the footwork, eventually joining him in swirling your hips. He takes your hands, moving faster as you become more comfortable,  and quickly you’re dancing in earnest, twirling around and laughing with him.

Frankie can’t help but smile. It stings a little that he isn’t the one dancing with you, Santiago is an incredibly touchy and flirty person even when he’s not dancing. And when he is...well. But Frankie knows he’s not the best, and he can’t begrudge you having fun with his friends. Dancing with a two and a half year old around his living room alone is completely different than doing it in front of tons of people he doesn’t know, all who dance better than him. Even Benny. But despite all their joking and teasing, he trusts you with his friends.

You’re a quick learner, he knew you would be, and within a minute you are keeping up with Santiago almost effortlessly, pressed hip to hip as you clear a wide berth around you. Frankie laughs as you shriek out happily when Santiago abruptly twirls you too hard and you almost fall over, flinging your arms around his neck and collapsing forward into his chest in laughter. He pulls you closer, hands just skimming your waist as you move together, your hips swirling dramatically in a way that has Frankie adjusting himself in his jeans.

{Heart to Break by Kim Petras}

The song ends and melts into the next and you release Santiago, panting with the exhilaration of dancing with him. You nudge Dali and trade partners, she slips into Santiago’s form much easier than you and you can’t help but become transfixed with the way she moves her body so effortlessly.

Dancing with Benny is, like anything else with him, filled with boundless energy, confidence, and without a care in the world. He dances like a chicken who thinks he’s a swan, not caring how anyone is looking at him or how he looks, and you can’t help but be swept up in it as he pulls you against him, gripping you around your ribs as you move with him. 

You’re singing the lyrics, breathing heavily as you bounce to the chorus, spinning around enough that you see Frankie watching you out of the corner of your eye with a wide grin. You bite your lip as he watches, dancing in front of Benny with his arms hovering over your waist, feeling the music and the lyrics as you sing them.

This song is fucking terrible, Frankie thinks as he watches you, but his music lover’s heart can’t help but hone in on the lyrics you’re lipsyncing from your panting mouth, and he feels his heart twinge in his chest, a tight coil of irrational fear unraveling into a mass much bigger.

Even if it means that I'll never put myself back together

Gonna give you my heart to break

Even if I'll end up in shatters, baby it doesn't matter

Gonna give you my heart to break

I tried to fight, but I can't help it

Don't care if this is my worst mistake

'Cause no one else could do it better

That's why I give you my heart to break

He swallows hard and looks away. Stop. It’s just a song. Just a fucking song, you idiot. 

He turns to Will for distraction. “So things are going good with you and Dali?”

Will nods. “Yea man, I mean, I don’t want to get ahead of myself but...she’s...she’s perfect. Didn’t think there’d be anyone who could deal with my shit.”

“Me either.” 

“You ever scared? That you’ll fuck it up?”

Frankie heaves a sigh. “Constantly. Lately...it’s all I think about.”

Will hums and wipes his fingertips down his goatee, the pounding of the music all but silencing the sound. “The only advice I can offer is what I keep saying to myself. Try not to focus on it, because then you’ll psych yourself out.”

“Yea. Sometimes it seems too good to be true with how well she gets along with everyone, Dali too. Hard to believe I just...am allowed to be this happy.”

{Del Mar by Ozuna, Sia, & Doja Cat}

Will nods, taking a sip of his drink and the two of them look back up to where the rest of the group is. The song had changed without him even noticing. Santiago seems to have taken the opportunity to go to the bar to get more drinks for everyone and you’re chatting in Dali’s ear. As the tempo picks up, she reaches to your hip and draws you up against her, rolling her hips against yours.

You close your eyes and wrap your arms around her neck, sliding your thigh between hers as you gyrate together like ocean waves. You lick your lips and she winks, moving her hips with yours as she suddenly turns around and lightly grinds her ass against you, the scent of her hair blooming deliciously in your nose as you dance together. Your lips are so close to her neck.

“Oh...shit.” Frankie looks back at Will with wide eyes before following his gaze to you and Dali dancing against each other. Benny is staring at you two with an open mouth, eyes sparkling with absolute glee as he points dramatically trying to get his friends’ attention.. Frankie can’t help the way his cock twitches at the way you're dancing with her. Fuck. It’s hot.

“I better go in there and steal my girl back, or Flower’s gonna take her from me.” Will laughs as he stands, pushing into the crowd and meeting you and Dali. He slides his arm around her waist and Frankie sees you all smiling and laughing as he whirls Dali away. You look over at Frankie, motioning him over. He shakes his head, looking away to avoid your sharp gaze but you roll your eyes and exit the floor, swaying your hips as you approach the table.

“You’re dancing with me. Come on.” You order, grabbing Frankie’s hand and pulling him as you move to the beat, dragging him behind you into the crowd. You swing him by your arm so he’s in front of you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you begin moving your hips to the music again.

He clears his throat, affected by the way you’re moving against him. “I’m - not a good dancer.”

You giggle. “I don’t care. You’re my man and I want to dance with you.” You grab his hips and move him in time with you. Despite his protestations, he does catch the rhythm quickly and he pulls you closer, his hands resting on the small of your back right above your ass.

He hums, comforted by your words. “What was that with you and Dali.” 

You shrug. “Just dancing.”

‘I hope you don’t dance with anyone else like that.”

You push back on his chest a little, an incredulous look on your face. “Cat...are you jealous?”

“No!” He shoots back, a little too forcefully to be believed. He grimaces at the Freudian slip.

“Awwwww Cat...” You coo. “Is that what’s been going on with you lately? Why you’re all needy lately?”

“I’m not needy.” He huffs. “I just...well, alright fine. You just looked into her.” He pulls you closer, allowing you to feel his possessiveness in both his arms and between his legs.

“Frankie.” You soothe, wrapping your arms back around his neck and looking in his eyes. “She’s hot, but she’s my friend, nothing more. We were just dancing.”

“Do you...like women?” He asks.

“I do. But I only want you. I don’t want you doubting it any more. Please.” You can feel his heavy shudder of breath, hopefully a release of relief as he tilts your chin up for a kiss.

“All the people in the world to choose from then, and you pick me.” 

“Yea. I pick you. You’re mine. And I’m yours. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You kiss him again and deepen it, sliding your tongue into his mouth to tangle with his own. You feel him moan and you swallow it down, only breaking the kiss and turning in his arms, rubbing back against him as the song swells in it’s climax. You can feel him against your ass, hard and insistent, as well as the warmth gathering in your belly as you continue to grind against him, the jut of his stupid belt buckle against the small of your back somehow only making your lust build more.

I love the way that you smile

I love the way that you smell

I love the faces you make when you storytell

I love the way that you are

I love the things that you do

The things that you do when you think I ain't watchin' you

“I have to admit watching you and Dali was fucking sexy.” He rumbles in your ear with a groan as you press against him more. 

“MMmmmm yea? I knew you were watching. Will came running.” You giggle.

He places his hands on your hips and pulls you right up against him, you’re curved over and practically humping each other on the floor instead of dancing at this point. “Trying to make me jealous? You better stop.”

“Or what.” You tease, bending forward a bit to really give it to him, following the course as the song melds into a new one with higher tempo. 

{Physical by Dua Lipa}

“Fuck.” He growls. “Or this.” He grabs your wrist and tugs you off the dance floor quickly, shifting through the crowd until he reaches the bathroom hallway where he pushes you up against it and crashes into your mouth. He wedges his thigh in between yours and you wriggle against him, moaning at the friction against where you’re already wet for him. “Or I will fuck you right here in this club.”

He pulls away and stares at you, his forearms caging you against the wall. You stare right back, quirking your lips as you slowly, deliberately, start grinding yourself against his thigh, moaning lewdly and loudly in full view of anyone who were to walk down the hallway.

“Jesus….yea? You want me to fuck you here?” You whine at his tone, biting your lip and nodding, and he wastes no time in taking you to one of the one-person bathroom doors, tugging on it and cursing when he finds it locked and in use. You can only laugh at his growing frustration as he tries the second one, also locked, before he curses in Spanish and pulls you out the backdoor, through the club patio to the parking lot.

“Frankie!” You gasp breathlessly, “Where are we going?” 

He doesn’t answer, looking around and spotting a rectangular curling staircase jutting out of the back of the building next to the club, and he tugs you to it and pulls you into the shelter of the structure, gently pushing you back against the brick wall and kissing you ravenously. It’s drizzling very lightly, but you don’t care as you thrust your tongue into his mouth and resume rubbing against his front in desperation.

“What is it with you and doing it in public?” You laugh, inhaling sharply as he roughly flips you around so you're facing the wall and pulling your mini skirt up over your hips. You brace your palms against the side of the building, looking to see if you could be visible from behind the staircase to anyone that were to come out onto the club patio. You weren’t.

“I dunno.” He gruffs as he pulls your thong to the side and trails his finger through your pussy. “I think - fuck baby, you’re so wet - I think you just drive me crazy.” He crowds you up against the wall more as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, curling them against the spot that he knows drives you wild, slipping two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you quiet. You whimper against his fingers, twirling your tongue around the digits as he continues pumping his other fingers inside of your heat.

“Gotta be quiet for me baby. Can you do that? Be a good girl and keep quiet? Don’t want anyone to catch us.” You feel like you might faint, your knees buckling as he pulls his fingers out of you, but he steadies you with his hands on your hips as he kneels, he fucking kneels on the wet pavement, pulls your panties to the side and absolutely buries his face in your pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You cry, yelping once more as he gently swats you on your ass as he nuzzles his face into your folds. “Sorry….” You whimper.

He pulls away. “If you aren’t good, I’ll stop.”

“No! I’ll be quiet! Please don’t stop!” You whisper, wiggling your hips back as you lean forward against the wall, desperately seeking his mouth. He chuckles darkly and pats you on the ass a few more times, each stinging a bit more before pulling you back to his mouth, lathing his tongue back and forth and around your entire slit, his hooked nose practically entering you as he pushes harder into you. He’s moaning against you, the sound is vibrating and joining the pounding rhythm that can still be heard outside the club. He takes one hand off your hips and wraps his arm around you as he all but pinches your clit over and over until you're quivering right on the edge, whimpering his name softly and he pulls away. That asshole pulls away from you completely and you almost sob at the loss, pressing your face on your hands against the wet brick wall.

“No….please…” You mewl. 

You can hear him fiddling with his buckle and you perk up, pushing your ass at him as you feel him drop his pants, the fabric of them ghosting across your thighs as they fall to the ground. He pulls back and pushes on your back so you’re angled more for him and starts rubbing his cock along your sopping wet pussy. You try to push against him but he holds you tight.

“I wanna hear you say it again.”

“Wha?” You’re barely present, your mind is barely functioning beyond the ability to form any speech, all you know is you need him, and you need him now. Nothing else matters. Not the rain, not if you get caught, not even if he’d wanted to fuck you right in the club.

“Tell me again...that you’re mine.” He snarls, pushing forward just enough for the head of his cock to enter you. 

“Oh fuckkkk. I’m yours. Cat - I’m yours please I’m yours please just fuck me.”

He pulls you up against his chest, tilting your head to the side as he kisses you sloppily, your tongues molding together as much as they can at this angle. It’s messy and the kiss barely lands, but you hardly care because that is when he enters you, and you cry out against his mouth before falling back forward to the wall for support as he starts a brutal pace.

He’s practically pummeling into you and you’re doing everything you can not to collapse or make too much noise, but the sound of his cock entering you sounds like it’s bouncing off all the buildings, and you can’t help but moan at the vulgarity of it.

“Fuck baby...shit.” He grunts as he reaches up and pulls the top of your dress down to expose your tits, your nipples hardening in the wet air as he reaches to pinch and pull at them with one hand. You’re about to cum, you’re literally about to cum when suddenly you hear the click of the door lever from somewhere outside of your consciousness and Frankie slams to a halt.

“Fish?” It’s Santiago. Fuck it’s always Santiago isn’t it, but instead of stopping and waiting, Frankie starts moving again, quietly sliding you up and down his cock as you press your mouth over the crook of your elbow. You know he’s smirking, you just fucking know it, almost daring you to blow your cover.

You hear the door click again. “They out here?” Will. 

“No. I don’t think so. Maybe they went out front.” You hear the door click a final time, not daring to uncover your mouth until the silence permeates the back of the buildings again and Frankie starts picking up his pace once more, his belt buckle rattling and his harsh pants tickling the back of your neck.

“Almost got caught there,” He whispers, “But you were a good girl, huh? So quiet. So good for me. Don’t want them to see you right? See me fucking you like this?” He’s rambling at this point and you’re too far gone to care what he’s saying, it just feels good and hot and so fucking dirty, the way he can pull things out of you that you didn’t even know where there. “You like this? Me fucking you in the fucking street honey?”

You keen and tense, your thighs trembling as his own thumps against them, the pressure he pulled you from building and building again until you’re back on that edge, your quiet whimpers reduced to sharp, quick, haggard pants. He feels you’re close and returns his hand to your clit, pinching and circling it a few more times as you slap your hand on the brick wall.

“One more time baby. Come on. Tell me again.”

You keen sharply, gasping out in delirium whatever he needs to hear. “I’m - I’m yours.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Fuck - FUCK! It’s yours!” You cry, jolting up a little as you cum, your juices swelling around him as you shudder in his arms.

“That’s it baby, that’s it, cum on me. Cum around my cock in the street you filthy fucking girl. Jesus, fuck you’re so fucking tight.” He groans as you sag back into him a bit, your arms sliding down the wet wall. He wraps his arms around you, one at your sternum and one around your hips as he supports you through the afterwaves of your orgasm, mouthing and nibbling at your shoulder in what you know will make a mark. 

You can feel he’s losing his rhythm, his breaths coming out now in whimpers of his own, and you turn your head as much as you can with the way he’s holding you. “Cat...cum for me. Cum for me baby.” He gasps, pounding into you faster and faster, irregular and disjointed, and right as he tenses, right as you know he’s about to cum, you reach back and grab the hairs on the nape of his neck, pulling gently. “Cum in me and I’ll leave it there and walk around with you dripping from me.”

He cries out, shooting his frame up and thrusting into you three, four more times as you feel him bursting inside you, rope after rope of his cum inside your walls. You moan at the sensation, he shudders and drops his head back on your shoulder, gripping your hip hard as you both regain your breath together.

Everything filters back to your senses slowly. The feeling of Frankie’s tummy inhaling and exhaling against your back, the sound of the soft rain drizzling around you, the faint rhythm of whatever is playing in the club, cars rolling over the pavement in the street beyond, and Frankie murmuring sweet gibberish against you as you shift.

He pulls out of you, you can feel your mingled cum sliding down your inner thighs. You know he’s looking and he hums in pleasure at the sight. You pull your top back up to cover your chest, leaning back against him as he fixes your underwear and shifts your skirt back over your hips. 

“Babe.” He giggles. He actually giggles and you can’t help but laugh too at the absurdness of your commingled lust. “I gotta pull my pants up but I can’t with you falling over on me.”

You’re cackling hysterically now, turning around and leaning against the cold brick as Frankie pulls up his boxer and jeans, reassembling his belt in between gasping laughter. 

“We’re fucking ridiculous, this is ridiculous!” He smothers your laugh with a kiss, the curves of your lips still in a smile as you separate and continue to giggle against each other's parted mouths.

“Yea we fucking are...but we better get inside before they come out here and it gets even more ridiculous.” You nod and peck him a few more short kisses before checking each other one more time and slinking to the back door of the club.

{Hillside Boys by Kim Petras}

“Where the fuck have you been?” Santiago snaps as you rejoin the group at the table. “We were worried you all got mugged or something!”

“Uhhh bathroom.”

“Truck. Went to get something from my truck.” You both say at the same time, not slick at all.

“Why are you both all wet?” Dali interjects, smirking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhhhhhh.”

“Alright, we were fucking, okay? Let's just go dance.” Frankie grabs your hand and pulls you back out to the dance floor, and the rest follow, laughing and catcalling as you go. You stick your tongue out at them as Frankie pulls you to him again, moving much more comfortably then before. The song switches again and you back up, getting the okay from Dali before grabbing Will’s hands and dancing with him. You can barely hear each other chattering to one another as the music continues to blare, but you don’t care. You’re happy, you’re surrounded by your best friends and your man. You turn away from Will and wrap your arms around Frankie’s waist, smiling up at him.

“You’re mine too.” You mouth.

He wants to say more. He wants to say, I’m fucking falling in love with you, you perfect, perfect girl, but something stops him, it’s not the right time, not the right place. But he feels secure enough to know now, soon. So for now, instead, he says: “I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

Chapter 9

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[grapesodatozier]

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

[noir0neko]

satan on the strip | m

“But parties of two are my favorite.”

rating: very mature

paring: jungkook x reader

includes: lots of sexual tension, also sex, praise!kink, pet names, magic, drinking, other nefarious behavior, a lot of sexual thoughts, maybe some biting and maybe some air play and begging and cursing and just,,, it’s mature content folks, proceed with caution 

word count: 3.5k

a/n: Hi!!! It has been a hOT minute since I was here. I was just toasting some bagels this morning when this idea popped into my head and I knew I had to write it. Shoutout to bagels for giving me inspo, even though bagels are not in this fic in any way. If you would like to read along to what I was listening to when I wrote, here is the little playlist: “Miracle” by CHVRCHES. “Love on the Brain” by Rihanna, “Hypnotic” by Zella Day and “Locked Out of Heaven” by Bruno Mars. ENJOY! I am super happy to post something again! 

“Come on!” Your friends try to flag you over to the dance floor from your very comfortable seat at the bar. You hold up your drink as an excuse and take a sip, letting the bitter liquid burn a path down your throat. They scoff and give you a dirty look, but continue dancing, throwing themselves around wildly to the music. 

It’s the night of one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties, and of course, she wanted to have it in Las Vegas. And also of course, your ex boyfriend is the best man for her soon to be husband. And triple of course, they decided to crash the bachelorette party and you have now been watching another random girl grind on your ex for the past twenty minutes.

You take another drink, sighing heavily before turning back around to the bar. 

“Long night already?” A voice says from behind you, deep and low. 

You swing your head to the side, getting an eyeful of the very tall and very handsome man who has taken a seat at the bar. His hair is dark and straight, waving lightly over his forehead. His skin is pale, clear, and smooth, with eyes so bottomless and deep they almost look black. He is wearing a gray v-neck shirt with dark wash jeans that have rips in the knees, exposing more of his pale skin and you can’t help but notice he has bright red shoes on. 

“I guess,” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink and moving it to the other side of your body. Just to be safe. 

“I’ll take that it's going to be an even longer one, if your friends are all of the bachelorette girls.” He smiles with his straight teeth and full mouth. “Unless you just wanted to match with a bunch of random strangers for no reason.” 

You sigh again, fingering the stupid sparkly sash around your dress with an absent finger. Your friends had insisted on wearing little black dresses and pairing them with ridiculously bright and glittering sashes that say different things. Luckily, yours is one of the more tame sayings, with “Wild Princess” printed on it in big cursive letters. You feel anything but wild. All you want to do is leave and crawl into bed with a book and sleep. Or maybe cry and try not to replay the image of your ex dancing with another girl and not giving a damn about you over and over again. 

“I wish I was randomly matching,” You take another drink. “Sometimes a party of one is better than anything else.” 

The mysterious stranger gives you a mischievous smile. “Parties of one are great. But parties of two are my favorite. Anything above that is just a crowd.” 

You laugh despite myself, nodding along in agreement. Deciding to not sit and wallow all night, you place your hand in the space between you and introduce yourself. He takes your hand and electric currents run up your arms, pushing a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m Jungkook.” He says, smiling again. 

With his arm out, you can see the beginning of a tattoo curling around his bicep and under the sleeve of his shirt. Your eyes follow it, trying to decipher its long, coiling shape before he pulls back. His eyes seem alive and glowing, their almond shape crinkling in the corners as he looks at you. 

You clear your throat. “What brings you here?” 

“Oh you know,” he says vaguely, gesturing for the bartender. “Work.” 

“This hardly seems like work,” you quirk an eyebrow. 

“Semantics,” Jungkook chuckles. “I am in the entertainment business.” 

He orders his drink, a clean bourbon, and then turns back to you, a secretive smile on his face. It’s like he can sense what you are going to say before it comes out of your mouth. “Movies?” You can totally imagine him in an action film. 

He shakes his head. 

“Television?” You guess. 

He shakes his head again, thanking the bartender as he slides a drink along the counter. 

“Music?” You try again. 

“You’re getting warmer,” he leans in closer and you can smell the alcohol and musky scent of him. It’s almost more intoxicating than your drink. “Magic.” 

“Magic?” You repeat, stupefied. 

“Yes,” he sits back and your head clears. “Magic.” 

“Like rabbits out of hats and throwing knives at spinning people?” 

He seems to think for a second, as if actually considering your joke as a statement. “A bit more sophisticated than that, but yes. That’s the idea.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, turning to face your body towards his. “Show me.” 

“I don’t think you’re ready for the kind of magic I have, Princess.” He says slyly, eyes dipping to your sash again. You scoff, taking the sash off and placing it on the bar. His grin grows and he leans back into you. 

You swear you can feel electricity sizzling in the space between you two, desperate to follow the high he’s bringing. “Show me,” you say again, a challenge in your voice. 

“Alright,” his voice is so low you don’t know how you can hear him over the deafening music and yelling, but it’s as if there is no one else but you and him. “All of your friends are now wishing that they were in your place, when they were making fun of you for sitting here before. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you are a supportive friend and know how much it would hurt if you left early. Your boyfriend over there is thinking about punching me and wants to know who I am and why you stopped being jealous to pay attention to me.” 

You  blanch, trying to discreetly look to the side to see the dance floor. You can see all of your friends out there, stealing glances your way in between steps and body rolls. You can see two of them giggling and whispering, wagging their eyebrows at you as they catch your glance. Then you see your ex, no longer with the woman from before, but making his way over from across the floor, his jaw set and eyes blazing. 

His angry face. 

Your stomach flips, but there is some smug satisfaction in his reaction as you turn back to Jungkook. He seems completely unaffected by your oncoming ex, but is staring directly at you. You think his eyes could burn you from the inside out if you let them. 

“What do you want to do?” He asks, his word ricocheting deep inside of you. 

“I want to leave,” you say, the words leaving your mouth before your brain can catch up. “Can we go?” 

“Of course we can, Princess.” Jungkook smiles, standing up and offering you his arm. 

You gather your things and join him, careful to not meet any of your friend’s eyes as you let Jungkook walk you towards the door. Hadn’t they been pushing you to hook up all weekend? Hadn’t they been throwing you at guys and giving guys your number since the party started? And even more because of the presence of your ex? 

The thought of him makes you grin and you look back to find him staring after you, clenching and unclenching his fists in agitation. Your smile widens and you can’t help but wave at him as you leave. Fuck him. 

You see your friends waving and jumping up and down excitedly, practically bouncing with happiness at the new development in your boring life. Jungkook’s arm is warm and hard around yours, static and heat pooling in the best parts of you. Close up, you can see the black lines and dots of his tattoo, but still can’t make out what it is. Your brain begins to question what you’re doing. This man is a complete stranger. And you’re in Las Vegas walking out of a bar with him. Every single horror film and terrible thing to happen to a woman always starts out this way. You start to rethink your choice, opening your mouth to tell him you’re going back. 

“Spend an hour with me,” Jungkook says, snagging your attention and the words from your lips. The night air is hot still, the street loud and bustling with people walking to and fro. 

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows. 

“One hour,” he repeats. “Spend one hour with me. If you want to go back after that, I’ll bring you.” 

“One hour?” You sound like a broken record. 

One hour. What can happen in one hour in one of the most crowded places in the United States? You both can just walk around, maybe get some food. One hour only has sixty minutes, after all and on the strip, that time would go by impossibly fast. Not to mention, the last thing you realistically want to do is walk the strip alone or go back into the bar without Jungkook and with your tail between your legs. You know your ex would have a field day and your friends would be so pitiful. Maybe it is about time to get wild. 

“One hour.” You say definitively. A statement this time. 

Jungkook leans in and you smell him again, musky and hot. “Then, I am determined to make it the best hour of your life.” 

His words bring fierce shivers down your spine. What have you gotten yourself into? 

Before you know it, your predictions seem to come true. A half hour passes without notice as you and Jungkook walk in and out of hotels, restaurants and bars. Jungkook asks you about your life, your hobbies, and does little magic tricks for you along the way. Pulling pennies from behind your ears and predicting cards before the dealer draws them. You’re laughing and smiling and living and noticing how beautiful he is when he smiles. How dark his eyes are and how you want to stare into them forever. How perfectly his eyebrows frame his face and how his cheekbones and jaw make him seem carved out of marble. 

“Have you ever thought about playing?” You ask him after you exit Caesar’s Palace. He had correctly guessed every single card before it was shown on the table and helped one of the players win big. Although it has to be well after 2 in the morning, the night is bustling and alive. Dancers are on the sidewalks in big feathers and bikini costumes, people dressed as Disney characters and superheroes are posing for pictures, and tourists are drinking and laughing and mingling with one another. 

“No,” Jungkook laughs, secrets in the sound. “I don’t need money.”  

“Doesn’t everyone need money?” 

Jungkook looks at you, tilting his head to the side. “There are things money can’t buy.” 

“Like what?” You ask. 

“Purity,” Jungkook responds. And the answer is so weird you stop walking. 

“Purity?” You put your hands on your hips, half mocking him. “Like chastity?” 

Jungkook moves close to you, looking down at you with those deep and confusing eyes. Your lips are part of their own volition. You want to kiss him. You want to do a lot more than kiss him. 

“Not chastity,” Jungkook looks wistful. Almost sad. “Heaven. The purity of it. When you fall, you can’t buy your way back in.”

Heaven. You think to yourself, looking at this man who seems to be a fallen angel himself. Beautiful and dark and full of magic, real or not, that pulls something buried deep inside of you and brings it to the surface. You hate how sad he looks, how regretful and reproachful. You want to ease his pain, you want to give him a slice of Heaven, a slice of the world, to see him smile and his eyes crinkle again.

And hell, if you don’t want to give yourself a piece of Heaven, of him, as well. 

Without thinking, you pull him into an alley between hotels. The night is hot and starless, the smell of sweat and alcohol and lowered inhibitions in the air. You don’t feel fully in control of your body, letting instinct guide you and Jungkook into the dark narrow street. 

“Time is almost up,” Jungkook reminds you. 

You growl in response, not even sure you know how to make such a sound. Not sure where this all consuming emotion has come from. “I don’t care.” 

Reaching out for him, you slam your bodies together and crash your lips onto his. You fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a long lost puzzle you didn't even know you’d been trying to solve. You push Jungkook’s hair back, catching a glimpse of small stud earrings in his ear. The jewelry is extremely sexy and you feel even more eager than you did before to feel him. 

Taking more control, Jungkook pushes you back until you hit one of the walls. You can hear the laughter and sounds of people around you on either side of the alley, walking up and down the strip and drinking. It would be so easy for someone to look in and see you both, obviously involved in much more than an innocent kiss. 

He touches you and you feel like you might break a part into a million little pieces. His touch is shocking, little fires trailing behind his fingers as they roam down the bare skin of your arms. Your back arches into the stone behind your head, a moan ripping from your throat when his fingers graze the skin of your neck. Jungkook is watching you with a feral gaze, licking his lips before leaning in to run his lips and teeth over your throat. You grip the front of his shirt, desperate to feel more. To feel everything. 

Jungkook crowds you closer to the wall, aligning his body to press against yours. You can feel the rises and plains of his muscle and frame through your thin dress. Your breasts peak with anticipation, a tingling sensation building low in your stomach. Jungkook hooks his hands around your thighs, the feeling of his bare skin on yours eliciting a string of curse words from your mouth. You’re ready to beg him to touch you where you need it. 

Luckily you don’t have to. 

Once he has you firmly against the wall, with your legs hooked around his midsection, he curves his arm around your leg and lets his fingers graze you. There is nothing blocking his touch and the contact and slickness of you seems to shock him. 

“No underwear?” He nearly growls.

“It’s a matching thing,” you all but pant. 

“It’s a naughty thing, Princess.” Jungkook responds, pressing his thumb directly into you. “How could I not tell before?” 

You ignore his statement, aware that you’re unable to question anything he does right now. His thumb begins to move and you moan, burying your head in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. Jungkook’s other hand weaves through your hair, pulling you back against the wall so the sounds you emit echo against the narrow alley walls. 

“I want to hear you,” he commands. 

“But the people,” you begin to protest, knowing that even you don’t care. 

“They can’t hear or see us,” he responds, a grin carving a wicked look to his features. “Like I told you: magic.” 

Without warning, Jungkook slides two fingers into you, dragging the longest and deepest sound from your throat. Your hips are trying to move, begging for more friction, but he won’t give it to you. He has his body flush against yours on the wall. In complete control. You fucking love it. 

His hair curls with sweat, the strands sticking to his forehead. The moisture seems to make him sparkle and glow. Like an angel on Earth. Maybe a fallen angel. He curls his fingers and strokes you, your walls clenching around his fingers with delicious pleasure. 

“Shit,” he curses, sliding his fingers out. “I need to be in you. Now.” 

You whine in agreement, the intensity in his words making your toes curl. Jungkook reaches in between your bodies to undo his belt, long and nimble fingers making quick work on the clasp. You want him to do wicked and horrible things with those fingers, and that belt. You want him to tie you down and make you beg for every lick of pleasure he could give you. Wild desperation begins to build in you. You could cum just from watching him. Just from seeing that pink tongue of his lick across his lips. 

“Jungkook,” you groan, watching him pull his cock out. 

The rational part of your brain is aware that you are both in public, with hundreds of people walking by the alley every minute. The rational part of you is aware that you can get arrested for this. That this is dangerous and irresponsible on so many levels. But the louder and reckless part of you never wants this to end. The irrational part of your brain believes him, trusts him, and trusts his magic. No one has noticed yet. Maybe luck. Maybe magic. You don’t care. 

And then he is poised at your entrance and pushing into you in one, long, thrust. Your moans are incessant, no breath between the sounds. You can feel him at the back of you, you can feel him everywhere, filling you up and intoxicating you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he is groaning, deep and dark and raw. 

He moves again, in and out, following an untraceable rhythm that is setting you on fire. You have never felt this alive before, this electrified, everything is you is singing with approval and building with pleasure. You didn’t know sex before this, you didn’t know how good it could feel before this. How can you ever be with anyone besides him now? 

He’s going to fuck you and leave you fucked for the rest of your life. 

Jungkook claims you in a kiss, his tongue roaming your mouth. He swallows your moans and sounds with shivers. Your hands reach under his shirt and travel along the rigid muscle of his stomach and shoulders. His body seems to come alive beneath the touch, skin rippling and muscle contracting. 

You can feel his large intake of breath along your lips. You don’t think you’ve heard him sigh until now, or breathe at all for that matter. It’s like he has never taken air into his lungs before you touched him. And now you can’t stop. Your fingers are everywhere as he continues to fuck you. Wild. This is wild. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, breaking the contact of the kiss for breath. 

Jungkook’s eyes are touching you as they roam around your face, down your neck and collarbones, over your breasts and stomach, until they settle on the point where your bodies are joined. His skin is slick with sweat. His eyes are burning with passion. The muscles of his back and taut, signaling he feels as close as you do to release. 

He reaches between you and begins to rub your clit in small circles. That’s it. You’re gone. You’ve sunk so deep, you know there’s no coming back. You splinter and break a part around him, milking his cock with tight spasms until you feel him cum, as well. You cum for what feels like forever, moaning and writhing and shaking at his touch. 

Jungkook’s teeth are grazing at your throat and he bites gently. You think you’re going to cum again, moaning and arching up to give him more access. He’s still in you, despite the cum you feel dripping around him and coating your thighs. Jungkook’s lips curve up and he pushes his teeth deeper into the base of your throat. You feel a sharp sting and then warm, hot blood is dripping down your collarbones and between your breasts. Jungkook lets out a gasp as your blood fills his mouth, swallowing the thick liquid like he’s a man dying of thirst. His eyes are glowing, his skin is glowing, and you swear the tattoo on his arm stretches itself out, like it's waking up after a long sleep. 

“You,” he says, capturing you in a long searing kiss. You can taste your own blood. You can taste your own desire, still throbbing deep and low after he’s satisfied you.  “You are my princess.” 

And then, just as quickly as you were there, you’re gone. Swallowed up by a black so endless and so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever resurface. Like realizing you’ve sunk too far in the deep end of the pool and wondering if you’ll make it out. Like falling asleep and hoping you don’t wake up. And consciously, dangerously, eerily, like the color of his eyes.  

You’ve met Satan on the strip. 

And your hour is now eternity. 

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

~Admin Eggplant

[lvlyhao]

『you’re dating him but he’s not your bias』

reaction fic; NCT Dream

A/N: this is nct dream’s reaction to realizing your bias is not him (and you’re a couple). gender neutral, got way too deep at some points and was NOT meant to be this long. enjoy.

note that english is my second language and i speak mixing slang, accents and spellings from 3283928 places so i did notice there’s practice written with both s and c down there so

just dont mind it pls

also, today’s photo theme is dream looking cute in low quality shots.

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: fluff (♡), angst (❆), comedy (☼), crack (⍢).

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: lots of swearing, my tough love for the neos, one mention of cheating that doesn’t actually happen, a couple of mentions of alcohol and drinking, some violence hidden in metaphors, me being chaotic, it got a bit more angsty and darker than i intended, but we do have all happy endings.

word count: 6.8K

pairing: nct dream members x reader ( includes mark, renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, chenle, jisung)

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Mark

oh, poor baby

i feel like he would be a little heartbroken 

just a little

not so much if it’s someone from dream, because they’re his little brothers, but if it’s one of his hyungs from 127 or wayv,,,,,

boy might cry

he’s not super dramatic about it or anything but i don’t see him as being super confident about himself

so he might think like

“do they think he’s cooler than me?”

and it’s silly, yes, he knows

but it’s just something that pops up in his mind sometimes when you bring him up

so for the sake of this fanfic let’s pretend you’re johnny biased

because gods know i am

at least when it comes to 127

mark would be divided into fanboying with you and being like “YO, HE’S THE COOLEST GUY ON EARTH OH MY GOD I’M SO GLAD YOU AGREE”

and

“a h”

<gives you a little tiny smile to cover up the sound of his heart breaking>

would constantly try to get closer to you when johnny is around, and just

showing off in little (kinda dumb) ways

complimenting you

being even more whipped than usual

like yes he’ll give you all of his watermelon slices just please don’t look at johnny like that again

i think johnny would kind of play into it with the whole “imma steal your s/o” thing

and he doesn’t do it to make mark jealous or hurt

we know he’d rather get hit by a train than ever actually upsetting his son on purpose

but we also know he’s johnny

cue “OH DUDE HE’S FLIRTING”

so yeah he might call you lil pet names (beautiful, cutie, you get it)

just to see you giggle 

(and see your soul leave your body)

might say he’s taking you out for dinner when he’s just driving you to get more ice cream for a movie night with the gang lol

and winks

expect a lot of winks

anywhere and anytime

which makes mark sometimes feel like he’s intruding???

and that you appreciate johnny more than him???

he genuinely doesn’t understand how you can date him and still not have him as your bias

don’t you like, love him above everyone else or smth lol

his “showing off” phase eventually fades tho

now every time you hang you with the boys and johnny is around, he’ll be a bit more distant 

he thinks he’s giving you space to interact with his friends but he’s just shying away from competing with one of his favourite people ever

and it’s a competition that Does Not Exist™

but he’s not 100% aware of that

and you’re not that dense 

so ofc you notice

and you wait till you two are alone to talk to him, and he BEGRUDGINGLY admits that you being johnny biased makes him feel kinda small and unimportant

he’d never try to make you change your bias or anything

he just needs reminders that he’s your #1 boy sometimes

which is fine by you

and by him

cus now it’s you calling him pet names all the time

and hugging him

and kissing his cheek

and praising his work

and blowing kisses from across the room

and just telling him straight up that no matter what, you’ll always go to him

(not that you ever had any chance with johnny lmao)

THIS GOES TO SHOW COMMUNICATING IS KEY, CHILDREN

COMMUNICATE

Renjun

wym donghyuck is your bias lol

literally are you fucking kidding him

don’t get me wrong ok

everyone knows renjun loves haechan

they’re bffs and could not live without each other

but at the same time,,,

what is wrong with you

who did he choose as his s/o gods help him

if it was jeno, or mark, or jaehyun, or winwin, or kun, or lucas, or yuta, or taeyong, or ten, or,,,,

literally ANY of his other members

he’d understand your point and be like “ok fine”

but haechan???? hmmm bestie no

he’s not gonna throw a fit

not after the first time you told him anyways

HE WAS SURPRISED OKAY

and he just whined very loudly after having laughed for 5 minutes thinking it was a joke

<flashbacks of that one time he had to sing the ottoke song with haechan on weekly idol>

if you don’t know that iconic scene, renjun had a whole ass meltdown in 3 seconds while yelling “aAAAAAH JINJJAAAAA” and getting ready to punch the living shit out of hyuck

for no reason other than the fact that it’s haechan we’re talking about and injun’s little body is filled with rage

BACK ON TRACK

would probably try to act all cool about it and be like “i don’t mind” but bruh does he mind

and it doesn’t help that haechan is such a little shit about it

he doesn’t even flirt with you

he just

constantly reminds renjun that he’s your bias—not him—and then constantly praises himself over you

“ah, y/n~ did you choose me as your bias because i’m the best vocalist? or was it because i’m the best dancer? mAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE OF MY OH SO BROAD SHOULDERS—”

(pause for injun to punch him)

(unpaused)

and ok in the beginning it was funny seeing him all worked up but now it’s just annoying to be in the same room as these two

haechan won’t let either of you live

and renjun just wants to

fight

so it eventually gets to the point where you’ll talk to renjun and jeno will talk to hyuck cus even the other dreamies are tired of it

except maybe for chenle, he always laughs his ass off when they start bickering

ANYWAY

your conversation goes something like “oh my god renjun i’m literally dating you, i don’t like haechan better or anything you little pile of fury”

while jeno sits hyuck down in front of him and jaemin and just

“bro why are you like this”

“bro”

no but renjun would apologize for going overboard with his protectiveness and jealous energy because he’s not generally like that

he’s angry all the time but never about something involving you, you know

he tries his best to treat you like the royalty you are

but something about hyuck being your bias makes him feel a bit like a castaway???

he’s very creative and as an artsy kid myself i know we’re very prone to feeling left out because we’re just different from the others

so he’d think maybe haechan really has a better voice

or better dancing skills

or he looks better

he is taller than injun after all, and has broader shoulders, and his hair is all fluffy and—

the whole thing just made him insecure about things he had settled with himself long ago

he was fine with being him

but not so much when it came to that

i don’t think you two would fight over it cus tbh i think renjun would really only get with someone who can be very understanding of him

and i think hyuck would actually apologize to renjun too

not when everyone’s around but like, maybe after dinner or something and he just needs to feel like they’re besties again

hyuck never meant for things to get out of control

he just really likes both injun and you as his friends, and aside from skinship his most prominent love language is,,,

teasing

he was really just trying (very poorly) to grow closer to the person his best friend loves so much—you—because renjun is SUCH a big part of his life it would just feel wrong to not be good friends with you as well

don’t tell them i said this but they hug it out

injun strikes me as someone that could take a bit of time to bounce back from something that hurt his pride or his sense of belonging

and his way of healing and bonding is just,,,

art

sure, keep being haechan biased, but also please read with him

and talk about his fantastic animal creations

and watch those buzzfeed unsolved alien theory videos because he really wants to discuss it and maybe even draw what he thinks the aliens look like

hyuck tones it down, you make sure renjun knows you like him for him, renjun starts to (secretly) appreciate hyuck’s talent along with you...

and now let’s take a moment to imagine the minute you watch their latest mv with injun by your side

and yes okay the first thing you see is CLEARLY how good renjun looks because holy fucking shit he’s an angel (and i’m clearly not renjun biased)

but then,,,,,,

wAS THAT A HAECHAN HIGH NOTE

(there’s always a haechan high note, just look for it)

and ok maybe he did scream a bit with you because of how good it all sounded

and you know what, it works out perfectly bc you two are my new otp and you were meant for each other

but we do have to mention the eventual happening of chenle saying like “oOoOoOoH y/N wErE yOu dRoOliNg oVeR hAeChAn AgAiN” after a special stage

and then you, injun and hyuck all attempt to choke him

i’m kidding

or not

Jeno

ah, lee jeno

aka samoyed boi

yes i do call him that no i will not stop

everyone is always writing jeno as being super protective and literally about to burst a lung if someone else ever does as much as look at you

but i just 

don’t see him that way

he’s a taurus and from what i know about taurus they can be v v jealous, yes, but they mainly seek comfort

so he’s fine with you biasing jaemin

as long as you’re not ditching him or anything lol

and ok, imma be 100% honest here even if it sounds like literal no fun (jenojaem wink wonk)

jaemin doesn’t flirt with you

not any more than he flirts with

every other breathing creature

ever

he’s really only platonically interested in you, never remotely romantic or anything lol

on the other side, he is in love with jeno

basically, if jaemin is your bias, jeno is his

so nothing really changes

we know how nomin are, okay

they hold hands, they stare deeply into each other eyes, they nearly kiss at least once every time they go live

it's just them

you gotta respect it bruh

i know this is the most boring reaction ever so let’s create the one (1) instance where jeno would actually dislike that you bias someone else

i think he would feel a bit hurt if you seemed to be more supportive of jaemin’s work than his

and it’s not something big or on purpose

it’s just something like going with him to a recording session but not going with jeno because you have homework

or after a very busy practise day going to praise jaemin first

even if it’s just three words

“you did good”

and then you’re going towards him, he’s gonna feel like maybe he doesn’t deserve your praise as much as nana????

i actually feel like, among the dreamies, jeno is the least confident one when it comes to his performance

he knows he’s not an awful rapper or anything but i think it can be a bit too much, being around such bright and huge presences like the others while his nickname literally means “no fun”

his members are just so loud and full of energy most of the time

and sometimes he just really needs to be quiet and observe in silence 

(yes i do know he’s chaotic and a crackhead, i’m just saying as we know he can be a bit introspective)

so what if you just

stopped seeing him?

did he become invisible to you?

did you finally fall for jaemin’s beautiful smile and stupid pick-up lines?

he’s not gonna let it show that he’s affected, though

earth signs are nearly always the ones to “stay strong” because we have this image that people are relying on us???

so we do what we do

bottle everything up and overwork ourselves bc we only got two modes

1. chill, super balanced and down to earth (ay for the pun)

2. please make us take a break we’re literally about to cry if we work for one more minute but we can’t allow ourselves to fucking take it easy

so yes you’ve guessed correctly, we’re going with 2

jeno is going to go so, SO hard on everything he does 

literally every single activity you can think of from dance practice to photoshoots to cooking for the dreamies

he stays up later than usual to get that one tricky move in the choreo just right

he works out more because he thinks he has to look absolutely perfect for when they shoot the mv

jisung asked for ramen? he’s making it but you bet your ass he’s spending over 40 minutes just chopping so

many

vegetables

AND STUFF THAT JISUNG WON’T EVEN EAT

but he’s doing it anyway for the reason being that it just has to be the Best™

and it’s not like he’s competing with anyone else to be diligent

this is just about being better than he was and showing himself—and maybe you—how painstakingly hardworking and driven he can be

maybe then you’re gonna acknowledge him as much as you acknowledge nana :((

:(((((

writing this is making me downright sad, jeno is so underrated and unaware of his power UGH

and i need to point out this is NOT about making you change your bias from jaemin to him, this is solely about having you recognize his efforts, even if you already do

if you just thought jeno was like going off in work because it was asked of him to, jaemin would DEF notice and talk to you about it

turns out it’s a habit of jeno to go extra hard sometimes and he needs someone to make him take a break

so it goes down like you breaking into the practice room when jeno and jisung were practising

the first reaction is confusion

the second is oh hey babe how are you

third is

a-are you dragging jeno and his bag out of the door while screeching at jisung to order pizza and doughnuts for everyone??

yes you are and i’m proud of you

so jeno is still confused and making those cute “hUh” noises he does omg i love him so much

and you’re just rambling about how much of an amazing artist he is, and you love his voice, and he’s a fantastic dancer, and his expressions and gestures are on point, and he takes such good care of the dreamies and

he’s perfect

and he knows jaemin must have talked to you, and he feels so vulnerable to have you know how on edge he’s been

baby boy just needs some rest

and that’s exactly what you give him, with a bath full of those fancy bath bombs and flower petals and candles at your house/apt

then a quick sheet mask while you massage his shoulders and keep saying how much you genuinely admire him

the mask might be ruined cus he started crying out of exhaustion

after that’s been done and you’ve hugged for at least like 5 min nonstop, you head over to the dorms, where hyuck was in charge of setting up a blanket fort while mork and nana gather board games, jisung gets the food and chenle

well chenle just had to make sure jisung doesn’t forget to order for someone and doesn’t break like 10 plates trying to set the table lol

this is way longer than the others so imma wrap it up

make it obvious and loud that you see and respect jeno’s hard work and he’ll be alright again

and maybe make those game nights a weekly thing when possible, it would make him very happy

he’ll never again feel sad when you praise jaemin cus now he’s sure he does enough, and above all, he is enough

Haechan

haechan = full sun

why would you ever bias someone when you’re dating the goddamned sun

does not understand

but also does not care that much

actually, one out of two really depending on who your bias is

if it’s one of the members he has that tom/jerry relationship with, prepare for so

much

complaining

and clinging

AND HE’D BE SO LOUD OH MY FUCKING GOD

donghyuck please stop screaming about doyoung not deserving to be your baby’s bias, it’s 2 am

on the other hand, if it’s one of the (few) members he,,,

adores with all of his heart and is not afraid to show it

ex: sungchan, jaehyun, taeil and yang2x

then you can bet he’s going to be right beside you whenever you feel like throwing a fit because he’s just so handsome and talented

IF IT’S MARK OSHDISJD

i’m going to write you as being mark biased ok? ok

i honestly don’t know if he’d feel more jealous of mark or of you

he loves you both

a lot,,,,

and he really doesn’t like it when mark blushes when you compliment him

and he doesn’t like it when mark literally just walks past you and you trip over your feet because bro tf u doing, that’s some embarrassing shit

lowkey done with you two

but also PAY HIM SOME ATTENTION

or don’t, he’s fine either way (cue crossed arms and staring at you from across the room until you come give him a kiss)

“he’s pretty cute but i’m cuter right baby”

pouty pouty pouty if he ever feels neglected

will be so fucking annoying lmao i can’t write haechan, i love him but i do understand why renjun is always trying to beat him up

he’d be a show-off in a different way than mark because he can be so petty

will take every chance he gets to pull a one-liner

will sing everything he has to say just so you know he can hit those high notes

what do you mean dream doesn’t have a schedule today

oh man, he could swear they did

because that is the sole reason why he’s wearing his most expensive clothes and shoes + makeup to walk around the dorms, yes

no he doesn’t want to impress you

shut up

will text you like every single fancam he sees on twitter

every

single 

one

and are they mark’s?

lol no, they’re his

he is so genuinely trying to make you a member of his sunflower cult 

<whispers> “tell me i’m your bias” 

“donghyuck what the actual hell why are you standing at the end of my bed in the middle of the night like a fucking demon child”

he really wants to act all cool and composed but he wants to be your bias so fucking bad

he’s a bad bitch all around and just does whatever

cus haechan privilege

and he tends to not care about what people say and think???

bc he knows he’s lee donghyuck

he’s fully aware of the effect he has on people

but you

not biasing him

naw, he can’t take it

will do anything and everything he can to make you say, JUST ONE TIME, he’s your bias

then you can go back to loving (his) mark

so for your sake, for his sake, for mark’s sake

just give donghyuck what he wants

i can promise he’ll keep being an ass no matter what you do

like yeah did you just buy him coffee and his favourite cake? well that’s sweet but iS HE YOUR BIAS YET

“aw babe thanks so much for taking a bullet for me but now please say i’m your bias”

if you still don’t do it, it’s time to be extra petty

will actually drop you for mark

his logic is something like: he can’t be your bias? pity, so he’s just gonna date him instead

and mark is mark so he has no idea what’s going on

everyone in 127 and dream finds this absolutely hilarious cus suddenly donghyuck seems to be doing his best to win over mark’s heart and i mean more than usual???? and he’s treating you like his bro????

<you leaving the dorms to go to uni or smth so you go to hyuck for a goodbye kiss> “no can do, i’m committed”

“i’m your partner”

“no that’s mark”

it’s not 100% a joke when i say i can see him getting down in one knee to propose to mark while making eye contact with you to

assert his dominance

and mark is just

“dude

what HAHAHA”

and you are so done, i’m so sorry you have to go through that bby

i don’t think there’s another way to fix haechan other than just admitting he was your bias for an era, or a comeback or something

like yeah with the other dreamies before him it’s bonding + healing time bc i wrote it all kinda angsty (lol sorry) but with donghyuck

no

“will you stop this if i say you were my bias during reload era”

“mark wasn’t in dream that era tho”

“yes i know”

i say he’s gonna take what he can get and now things can finally go back to normal

with the exception that something else comes along with hyuck being satisfied with you biasing him

he just has a full pass to fanboy over mark now too

what am i talking about?

new 127 mv is out

you: watching it beside haechan and going off about how pretty mark looks

him: going off even harder bc he’s whipped too

this is what a happy couple looks like 

but now i pity mark because he has you two idiots fanboying over him irl

savemork2021

Jaemin

nana is just such a chill and fun guy

i can’t see him being actually jealous or anything if he finds out you bias someone else

and so the two of you become insufferable together

bitch, i’m telling you

he (ur bias) is not gonna have one peaceful day ever again in his entire life

cus you know the thing jaemin does where he just looks at someone doing some random shit and goes “oOoOoH sExY”

yes that thing

he’s doing it to your bias 

and you’re doing it too

and your bias probably wants to run away to some very far away land

PLEASE IF IT’S JISUNG

i’m not gonna write this whole thing as if you bias him but let’s just imagine

two fully grown people

pilling on top of poor, poor park jisung playing games on his phone

“URI JISUNGIEEEEEE

MWOYA, MWOYAAAA~"

i genuinely think he would avoid being around you two at the same time

cus individually he can handle it

like yes y/n please let me go this hug has lasted for about 4 minutes now

or oh hi jaemin hyung my cheeks hurt when you pinch them that hard

but when you two are together

bruh

a power couple not bc you two are v confident or some shit but bc you can and will be extremely affectionate towards anyone that comes too close

and now let’s talk about how it would be if you biased jaehyun

jaemin loves jaehyun

they’re 2jae

2jae are soulmates

therefore,,,, it’s also kinda hellish but in a different way???

bc 2jae are on the end of that spectrum about the neos that know how in love the entire world is with them

they’re too powerful

they’re aware of their charm and they do everything they can to rub it in our faces

so the flirting between 2jae and you would be insane

and i mean insane

insane as in even johnny is kinda disgusted tbh bc

they’re doing a photo shoot with the 23 of them for some shit, idk don’t ask me

and of course, you had to tag along

but oh my god you three, please stop calling each other sexy/hot in weird voices now, the staff is staring

there are def rumours the 3 of you are a poly couple lmao

jaehyun denies everything on social media (throwback to saying “no way lol” when we asked if he REALLY slept in the same bed as jungwoo)

but every piece of content there is of you and jaemin or you and jaehyun or just them is so ridiculously flirty

you can bet there are compilations on youtube like 

“y/n being in love with 2jae for 8 minutes heterosexual”

ok i was having way too much fun with that, moving on

i don’t think he’d ever be actually upset about you biasing someone else

he trusts you and treasures you a lot so he doesn’t see the problem in you also appreciating another one of his members

bc gods know he does

he’s a bit in love with everyone so why shouldn’t you be too lol

one time he would feel a bit blue because of it???

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

i think it’s possible he’d turn pouty or whiny or just kinda needy (not in a bad way, he just misses you) when he’s like

done with people

and needs some time away from everything

we know he’s an introvert, even if he acts very, very loud around the boys and it’s honestly just a matter of time until an introvert grows tired of being around humans

it depends on each person, of course, but there’s a 99% chance every once in a while he’ll start to feel too drained

and he’ll need a break to get his energy back

jaemin would probably want you around even when he feels like that, though

i see you being such a big source of comfort for him in a relationship

he enjoys taking care of people so please take care of him too

and for just this one day don’t talk about your bias that much, or don’t leave nana to go over to him to chat

and just cuddle him a lot

that will make him a smiley baby again

and then things are back to how they normally are

and by that i mean most neos hiding from you because they’re scared 

i don’t have a lot to say aside from that so let’s think about the neos that would be the most intimidated by your shared thot aura

dotae would be confused in different ways lol

taeyong would be just ????????????blush/awkward smile/hahaha??????

and doyoung might actually ask what is wrong with you

<points to jeno and his s/o> “why can’t you be like them”

mark would laugh-scream and slap his knee into oblivion whenever you two are cornering him

but then go super shy and be like “dUDE DON’T DO THAT”

resident confident gay jungwoo would rejoice in the attention and make so many goddamned jokes

a literal comedian i love him

i think sicheng and renjun would be on the same wavelength of repugnance towards you lol

chenle would deadass call you weird and tell you to leave him alone

shotaro and kun might faint (or kun will panic-scold you)

taeil is as confused by affection as usual (have you seen the face he makes when haechan kisses him LMFAO he’s smiling but like wondering wtf happened on the inside)

ten is not very amused but might play into it

yangyang: that’s disgusting, man (cue flashbacks to that live with renjun after the from home stage where renjun pretended to lick his hand and slick his hair back,,, catboy injun,,, you know the one)

xiaojun and hendery are such panicked gays they just turn to stare at whoever else is around and make that “help” expression like they’re on the office

haechan is haechan, kinda doesn’t mind it

jeno is used to dealing with this at this point

lucas and yuta love the attention but while yuta will flirt right back lucas is just gonna smile and try to jop his way out of there while screaming

sungchan will go hide behind haechan and say “hyung they’re being dumbasses again”

this turned into ‘how would nct react to you and jaemin being super flirty together’ and i’m not sorry

Chenle

chenle is so fun to write i love him lmao

okay so

he doesn’t strike me as the possessive type with anyone other than jisung (bc i swear he can be a bit jelly towards his bestie but i think it comes with sungie being the sweetest bean ever, he’s just protective)

he’s such a ray of sunshine and witty jokes and dolphin laughter i love him

back to the plot

he literally couldn’t care less about you biasing someone else

b u t

i will say there’s an exception

this exception is tall, kinda lanky, very awkward and born on the 5th of february

you’ve guessed it, it’s jisung

i think most of the time he’d tease THE SHIT out of you for it because c’mon

you had 22 chances not to mess up

and you still somehow ended up biasing jisung? lol do better next time

and this is not me and chenle hating on jisung, please—

he’d just find it funny that your bias is his best friend and

hold the fuck up

your bias is his best friend

oH NO NO NO NO NO

i think after realizing that he would lowkey try to keep you two apart because he’s somehow jealous of both????

and if he can’t help it then you can bet your ass he will be screaming all along

it’s his sweet, dummy jisung

with his sweeter and dummier y/n

what is he going to do

probably has a mini-breakdown with kun because like he’s always wanted you two to get along bUT NOT LIKE THAT

kun will just sigh like the tired father he is and pet his back while saying “there, there”

and a genius idea is going to come to chenle’s mind

you know the teasing thing?

well it’s upgrade time

he’s gonna turn into such a try-hard with tmi and embarrassing shit you two have done

and he’s not trying to stop you from being friends

he just wants you to like

know who you’re befriending

bc i think since he’s really really close to jisung, he doesn’t want you getting closer to him bc you like his idol side alone

and he doesn’t want jisung getting close to you just because you’re his partner either

if you had high hopes for each other and ended up kinda falling face-first into the ground bc it was nothing like you had imagined—

he’d be so broken

because he loves you so much :((((

so like, if you can get past the teasing and annoying barrier he’s putting up, he’ll be more than happy to have two of the most important people in his life being buddies

so get ready for it

if you’re the type of person to go batshit crazy when you drink, oh boy, oh boy

so you and the dreamies are just having dinner when lele feels like it’s the perfect time to disclose some of your drunken adventures

“hey y/n”

“yeah babe?”

“remember that time you got really really drunk on vodka and candy and wanted to call your mom”

“chenle the hell don’t talk ab—”

“but then you tried using the microwave as a phone”

“...”

“...”

“or that other time you were equally as drunk and watched the make a wish mv and cried because you noticed the height difference between xiaojun hyung and lucas hyung”

yeah so now’s the part you get up to chase him around the dorms and try to land a kick

BUT WORRY NOT, HE’LL MAKE SURE TO EMBARRASS JISUNG JUST AS MUCH

he likes doing that when it’s just the three of you though

so picture this

movie night the girls boys

chenle would 100% pick the most terrifying horror movie he can find so that he could see jisung clinging to whoever’s closest to him

and then right before a jumpscare, he’d whisper like

“jisung”

“w-what”

“why don’t you do that thing you were doing while you slept last night”

(honestly, i’d be mildly scared if i heard lele say this with no context at all)

and then the jumpscare happens and jisung is nearly fainting and crying at the same time

but chenle is laughing

and trying to get out what he wants to tell you between wheezes

“he-he” <dolphin wheeze> “hE WAS SINGING CHEER UP BY TWICE WHILE SLEEPING” <more wheezes>

and look this is just gonna go on for weeks until you and jisung are over it

and stop being weird and awkward around each other

lele needs you two to be bros ok

so be bros

once you do adapt to being pals with your bias i think chenle would take the teasing down a notch just to make you more comfortable

and like he’s so happy now the three of you can hang out and there’s just no tension

happy chenle is the thing i love the most i swear to gods

and if you don’t adapt to it?

well,,,

i honestly think he’d be pretty disappointed, cus it means to him one of you isn’t ready to fully embrace the weirdness within????

and like what u scared of

jisung is a weirdo, what about it, so are you

either that or he’d think you’re maybe being judgemental

so yeah please accept jisungie and your dumbass boyfriend

then everyone can be besties

i love thinking about the three of you as just this hellbound chaotic trio

because chenji already wreak havoc wherever they go as the two of them

but now that you’re coming along,,,,

no neo would escape from your pranks ever again (and even members of other groups lmfao watch out sehun, i’m talking to you)

and it’s so incredible infuriating in a good way that it just turns to be endearing

you’re cute as fuck so no one gets actually mad with the shit you pull????

which is dangerous, someone should really keep an eye out on the three of you 

we don’t need sm to be on fire

well we kinda do cus they’re pretty bad but not my point

i said somewhere above that chenle would tone the teasing down but i don’t mean he’d stop

bc c’mon guys

he’s chenle

no limits here

but sorry, i really cannot write jealous!chenle cus his heart is just too pure and filled with joy for him to be jealous for real

last scenario?

chenle after a comeback stage: ya y/n, i was gonna ask how was my performance today but you were probably more focused on jisung’s arms right

jisung is choking on water somewhere behind you

Jisung

it’s maknae time <plays i.n’s maknae on top>

i don’t mean to picture jisung as being like

ridiculously innocent or just downright naive because i really dislike it when people do that

he’s a literal 19 yo and jaemin himself has said he’s not as innocent as we think lol

however

i do see him as being quite new to all things love 

i think you’d probably be his first partner and with first relationships comes a lot of other firsts

first kiss maybe, first time holding hands, first time being jealous….

first time being jealous, yes, focus on that

i don’t think jisung would be aware that like

you not biasing him is even a possibility

cuz you’re dating

doesn’t that come along????

ah poor baby i love him

if you biased chenle i think he’d be just

disgusted and weirded out but okay?? you do you i guess???

he’s comfortable enough with lele to not feel intimidated

but if it’s another member

ESPECIALLY one of the oldest ones

i think it would be a blow straight to his confidence 

you biasing ten, kun, taeil, taeyong, doyoung or johnny and maybe yuta would make him feel a bit hesitant and concerned

his first thought would probably be that you don’t like being with someone as young as him

and who knows, maybe you’re even younger than him, maybe you’re the same age, but what if you actually like older guys??

what about him then???

and jisung doesn’t mean to feel so worried and insecure, ok, pls understand where i’m coming from

first relationships normally take like a very long time to build trust and acceptance of the other person’s feelings bc it’s literally a whole new world for you

and that goes extra hard for jisung because he is so fucking whipped for you it’s still hard to believe you like him as much

and it absolutely does not cross his mind that you’d cheat on him with your bias, GODS NO

he really respects you and his hyungs 

so no, never

that’s not a thing that can happen

but you realize you’re too good for him and maybe see he doesn’t fit your ideal type?

well, yes, that’s what he’s thinking

probably goes straight to chenle or renjun (he talks about renjun so much asjahj) to vent and ask for advice

i think they’d be surprised to see what’s going on inside his pretty little head because it’s so obvious for everyone that you just adore jisung

and they do tell him that

however, i don’t think it would completely calm his nerves, and again, this has nothing to do with not trusting you

it’s just that

his hyungs are so cool…

HE CAN’T HELP IT OK

would probably try to mirror your bias (i’m saying it’s taeyong for the sake of what i’ve imagined ok) and like

grasp onto some of his qualities?

so in his mind taeyong is: nice, sweet, caring, amazing, perfect, smart, perfect, sexy, mature and did i mention perfect

i can see him trying some new rap styles that mimic tyong’s a bit???

like would lowkey learn his raps from cherry bomb and superm’s one and listen to recordings frequently to pick up on how taeyong does it

i think he’d also just change the way he acts in general to dodge a bit from his maknae image

so now he tries to speak with a more formal-ish language and learns random facts about things you like to seem more intelligent???

“good morning y/n, you look as beautiful as one of voiello’s paintings today :]”

“wait i thought that was a pasta brand”

he’s just trying to show you he can be mature and serious if you want him to

long story short, he’s not acting like himself (not that he’s childish, he’s just out of it) and you don’t like it, so you ask about it and wait for him to feel comfortable with sharing

when he does talk about it breaks your heart so much :((

you’re going to need some patience to try and show him you’d choose him, and not your bias, even if you had the chance

they’re completely different people and you love him BECAUSE he’s jisung, not for any other reason

please reassure him so he can go back to acting like his authentic self, i think it would be such a relief for him too

your words and affection are obviously enough for him, but if it ever happens that he feels especially low and insecure again, it would help if your bias talks to him too

and taeyong wouldn’t have a problem with it

actually, scratch that, taeyong probably knew what was going on all along

he just has that motherly 7th sense (ay) that is even more acute with the dreamies cus like 

127 has him, wayv has kun, but dream has…

the dreamies

and that, my friend, is terrifying

anyway he’d come to talk to jisung asking like “what’s wrong buddy :(“ and sungie would be a bit ashamed because it sounds so silly when you say it out loud

of course tyong wouldn’t judge him, and he just really has to tell jisung what is it you and he are always talking about

it’s him

“when they come around to talk and hang out here it all goes back to you, jisungie. they can’t spend one second without mentioning your name

it’s so cute; it’s always like ‘oh jisung would love this’ or ‘jisung likes it that way’

so please be kinder to yourself and let yourself see that they’re in love with you, not with me and not with any other member they ever mention”

jisung would feel 10000000% better

and smiley

and giggly

and oh my god do you really talk about him that much

LOOK HE’S BLUSHING

would just go over to your house immediately and hug you, burying his face on your neck from behind you

and not let go

ever again

the whole situation just teaches him a lot about accepting your love for him and not questioning it 

shut up i’m not crying

---

final notes: this was my first work after the humanity series and it was so fun lol i think next up is probs gonna be an ideal type scenario for ot23 (but if i really write it i’m gonna post it by subunit and its gonna be way shorter than this, don’t expect 23K words at once lmao)

if you’ve enjoyed this fic please consider reading my humanity series, which is a zombie apocalypse au with kun <3

[sebastiansluts]

Happy new year rosee (ik it’s v late but better late than never) anyway what’s up? Who anon jerk dare come and bring any negativity to my precious rose? Imma throw hands 🤺🤺🤺

I miss you haven’t been able to send you any messages since I’m at my grandma house and I’m restraining myself from reading any smut so I won’t be horny but I’m dying to read new fics from you gosh I wish I’m back at my dorm reading your amazing writings also might thinking I would dye my hair blonde balayage this January for the new year new me bullshit (not rlly I just wanna be Sebastian Stan’ type 😭😭😭) but I miss dyeing my hair so yeah and also been thinking mafia Nick idk why but I imagine him keeping me as a pet and maybe he’ll fuck other girls but kept me watching and he’ll be so mean abt it but I’m his one and only pet so when the girl he’s fucking started talk shit abt me behind my back he’s like “you ain’t special she is, no one talk shit abt my pet” and then kill her and then just fucks me and when he finally breeds me he just won’t stop being around me and finally just fucks me and only me cause I’m the only one that gets it…

But also I’m craving Daddy Lee who’ll take care of me and again humiliates me in a different way like he fucks me dumb that I said “da…da” instead of daddy accidentally and he’s like “aw you can’t even say daddy fucking pathetic you dumb baby look at you babbling like a pathetic braindead fucktoy baby c’mon say it back im a pathetic braindead fucktoy baby yeah you are fucking useless shit I’m gonna wreck you so bad” cause oh my god that fucking belly is all I want I need a big boy and as always je suis excitée (idk french unless it’s that and voulez vous coucher avec moi)

So yeah my mind is fucked up but it izzz what it izzz. Ps. I used to hate when the ml have other girl but I crave to be humiliated now I don’t mind lol as long as he’s mine is that fucked up? I think that’s fucked up I need to go to a therapy

~sincerely your beluga

Happy New Year hon!!! I hope you had a good one <3 Thank you for defending me, I love you. I've missed you too! I hope you're having a good time even though you're not reading any smut- I'll try to have some more for you to read soon! Haha I say go for it, do the hair change if you've been missing it! I need to redye mine soon, maybe I'll do a dark purple or something! But yeah I feel you on wanting to be Seb's type!!

Mmm mafia!nick is a great one, and I love the humiliation plus protectiveness, it's like, no, only he gets to be a dick to you, no one else. And the giving in at the end to only fucking you, because really, why would he need anyone else when you're willing to do everything and anything?

But ooo daddy lee is so good too because yes he could humiliate so much like that, he'd say how he's so much smarter, he knows what's best for you, and just keeps fucking you until you're flying....

Hahaha love that little bit of french, it's all I know too lol. And so what, your mind is fucked up, my mind is fucked up, we're all fucked up! And I mean, we should all probably see therapists, but that's a whole other issue lol

[spacedlexi]

violentine fic snippets 😳🍊💜 pls i need someone to read this

the last few paragraphs are now basically an unintentional direct middle finger to skybound

Violet and Clementine were tasked with fishing duty. The snow crunched under their feet as the two made their way out quietly towards the old shack. Although the both of them had become close during the ordeal with the raiders, a certain silence always seemed to settle upon them when they went down to the river, when they saw that busted up old truck. They both missed Brody, but it still hurt to think about her, and so they said nothing.

Clementine looked up towards the heavy clouds that hung above their heads, and her face twisted. These kinds of clouds once made her excited this time of year, but now it really only ever brought a sense of dread. Nothing good ever happens when it snows anymore.

The silence between the two was only broken once they finally made their way inside the shack, the both of them shivering as they stomped the snow off their boots.

"Fuck," Violet cursed as she rubbed at her arms, trying to generate some heat. Clementine was already making her way to the back of the small, cluttered room where the gear lay against the wall. Violet quickly joined the other girl's side, leaning down to grab one of the buckets.

As she did so, she kept her eyes averted from the carving in the wall that she was all too aware of.

That one hurt to think about too.

---

"Shit, Clem, I- I can't see anything!"

The girls both held their arms across their faces, trying to shield their eyes against the snow. They had tried to head for the school, but Clementine was still new to these woods, and if Violet couldn't tell where to go...

Frustrated, Clementine turned back, following their fresh tracks before they began to disappear. "Violet, we have to go back to the shack, we can't just stumble around out here." Just because walkers were slower in the winter didn't mean they couldn't still be a threat. She was getting wet from snow and sweat and it was chilling her to the bone.

"Fuck...fuck..." Violet quietly berated herself as she relented, turned and hurriedly caught up to Clementine's side, keeping close as to not get separated. She couldn't believe how quickly this weather had set in, and how much it obscured her vision. Violet had never been caught in such a storm before.

But it was not Clementine's first bad storm, and as the two trudged together through the snow, she wished they had just left with the few fish when they had the chance. Walking around, lost in the woods, in the snow and the blinding fog... It brought back dreadful memories.

---

Clementine still watched the other girl from the corner of her gaze, smiling in slight amusement at the frustrated pout on Violet's face. Her hair was slowly melting and it dripped off of her hands, soaking into the already damp fabric of her long sleeves.

Clementine would be lying if she said she didn't have deeper feelings for the other girl, but she had seen that heart carved deep into the wall. She knew what, or rather who "V+M" stood for, and she told AJ it meant they must've been a couple. Girlfriends...

After everything that had happened with the raiders... with Minnie... Clementine wasn't sure what Violet was feeling about that whole situation, and she didn't want to make the other girl feel like she had to talk about it. There's plenty of her own past that she'd rather not think about.

So Clementine kept her distance, even though she only wanted to be closer.

"You look like a wet cat." She finally piped up, trying to break through the last bit of tension.

"...Shut up..." It was a weak response behind a tiny, amused smile. Violet tried to hide it, turning her head away, but Clementine could see it, could hear the laugh in her voice.

---

She wasn't the most skilled at the craft, but Violet managed to cut the meat off of one of the fish, then used the bucket to fry their meal over the fire.

"I know it's been, like, practically a decade, but eating food like this sucks..."

Clementine laughed at that. "Trust me, there are worse things people are eating out there right now."

Violet gave a short laugh in return, "Oh yeah, didn't you say you ate a dude's leg once?"

"Hey, I said I was joking about that," Clementine playfully pushed Violet's shoulder with her own, and they both laughed. "I /almost/ ate a dude's leg once." But Clementine's laughter died down as the events of that evening from so long ago began to resurface in her mind.

There really weren't many happy memories left.

---

As Violet set the buckets by the fire, she noticed Clementine had removed her prosthetic. It rested now against the side of the hearth, its rabbit hide absorbing the heat. She looked at it fondly, the familiar leather strap and red lace making memories resurface in her mind.

"I still can't believe AJ and Willy really asked Lou and I to help them get your boot back," Violet said as she went to sit back down where she had been earlier, a tired smile on her face.

Clementine let out a short laugh as she watched Violet come back around. "Honestly? I can't believe you both said yes."

Violet was too embarrassed to say that she didn't even hesitate at their request, so instead talked about the others. "Well, Louis wasn't exactly /thrilled/ about the idea... Ha, you should've seen his face once we found it. And AJ just went over and picked it up like it was nothing." She adjusted her voice, trying to mimic the young boy, "He was all, /What? I cut it off, didn't I?/"

The story made Clementine laugh, at least a bit. It also made her unable to look away from the empty space where her left foot once belonged. She sighed, "Yeah, he's a brave kid..."

Then the room fell silent, and Violet began to worry if maybe she shouldn't have said anything. Clementine nor AJ had told the rest of the kids the full story of what happened to them out in the woods, but she doubted that it brought back any good memories. Before she could worry too much, Clementine spoke up once more.

"If he had listened to me... Well, let's just say, you don't know /how/ relieved I was when I woke up in my bed."

"Me too." The words left Violet's mouth before they even had a chance to filter in her brain, and she tensed. "Uh, I mean-" she scrambled to save face, "we all were, Clem..."

Violet remembered that night clearly. She remembered barely making it back to the school herself. She remembered that awful, sunken feeling in her chest when she realized Clementine and AJ were still somewhere out in the woods. She had wandered the old safe zone, too nervous to rest and too ashamed of herself to be around the others. She had just left them on the other side of that chain link fence. Clementine was injured and Violet had just... left her there.

"I just..." Violet hesitated, knowing something stupid was about to come out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop herself. "There were just so many times that night that I- uh..." she swallowed her stutter. "We were just so afraid that we'd never see you again..."

Clementine looked up at that, the words reminding her of ones she heard during that night in question. Tennessee had confessed to her just how lost and scared they had been on their own, and when Clementine turned to lock her eyes with Violet's, she could see that fear that Tennessee had talked about.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

[abittersweetsongforyou]

wtfock fic recs part 2

saddle up for pt 2 babyyyy

wtfock fic recs pt 1

the underrated (just read them trust me they're brilliant)

wishing, wanting and longing by dottori

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart by orphan_account This isn't our first time around by noobishere this is us, through your eyes by dottori - with yasminas season starting id like to draw everyones attention to this fic from yasminas pov its sweet and sentimental and lovely and the fact that it has under 100 kudos is a fucking crime Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) by berrevy - i love this author so much and this fic is so good, i love the way they're written here, the description is beautiful, 10/10 A morning without you is a dwindled dawn by Createdforyou - so soft i love seeing them just living their lives together Elayna Aan Zee by zetaphiuchi(ryuujitsu) - this one is sad and maybe sander forgives too quickly but its beautifully written and i love it you're an angel in disguise (you're an angel in my eyes) by thekardemomme - this is so sweet and lovely and warm everyone should read it I do now. by irregardlxss - robbe tells jens about the hate crime dreaming of you by ivy_seas - just them being happy at christmas time hold all my cliches on the tip of my tongue by nbrook - they're dorks and they're too horny for their own good but they love each other very much i've never been in love (but i wanna be, i wanna be) by ladypeaceful - what if sander took noors place at the party in episode 1 we have the stars (and this is given once only) by merengue - military au but also childhood friends and its so soft and beautiful and they love each other so much Agents Sliding Down The Chimney by berrevy - i seriously cannot recommend berrevy enough this is a christmas fic thats a little sad but also a whole lot sweet and very real which is what i like

angst bby

I follow you (deep sea, baby) by emotionalgoblin - sander pines in my mind, in my head by cubedmango - canon divergence for s3 last two episodes

gonna help you be free, honey by lamourestout - aftermath of the hate crime

We're always gonna be contaminated by nbrook - sander fucked upppp and everyone is sad but they communicate so its fine

the night we met by themoongirl - college au, sad boys :(((

show me some stars (beneath this ceiling) by peaceoutofthepieces - five times robbe wishes he could wake up next to sander and one time he does You're always there for me by nbrook - the s4 car accident aftermath (don't want anything) but all of you by MajorAccent - s4 car accident but extra extra angsty i know someone who kisses the way (a flower opens) by romantiser robbe and sander see each other again after sander paints the mural

sander and robbe being so in love it hurts

he is the one by themoongirl - marriage proposal im soft

I'm holding my breath, as the seasons change by bruisingknees - robbe moves out of the flatshare

new year's eve by themoongirl - sander is sad but robbe is soft

all you never say by nothingbutniall - fluffffff

you're the one that i want by themoongirl - sander needs reassurance

dark paradise by luckycharmz - sander is coming out of a low and robbe takes care of him

i was grounded (while you filled the skies) by wafflesofdoom - theyre in love okay

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance by allforyoumylove - theyre childhood friends and theyre in love

oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight by alsjeblieft - sander painting robbe

Early Morning Dancing by teen_content_queen - flatmates dance in the morning v v cute

(inside my head) I've been at war by nothingbutniall - they're so soft pls

The sun came up and I was looking at you by allforyoumylove

Baby, Home Is In Your Arms by clarecas - robbe comes home to sander after his exam

don't be scared, you are my rock by peaceoutofthepieces - sander is sad but robbe is there purple lips (underwater) by dottori - fluff so much fluff i love it sm

in all your gorgeous colors by nothingbutniall - sander paints robbe you're still the that i love (the only one i dream of) by thekardemomme - i couldve also put this in the angst category but they just love each other so much its so beautiful My darling, I'm rooting for you by allforyoumylove - sander is having a depressive episode and robbe loves him fully formed, ready to run by MajorAccent - sander is down and robbe just wants to be with him paper rings by thekardemomme - they love each other so much and theyre going to get married one day i've always wanted a (boyfriend) by thekardemomme - christmas is sanders favourite holiday and robbe doesnt love christmas but he loves sander Come lie with me by allforyoumylove - they're roommates but they cuddle and fall in love glimpses by foxsake5 - theyre just living their lives, being in love, as they should

boyfriends being boyfriends

I absolutely adore you but we're absolute beginners by nbrook - sander is adorable

boy, i fucking got you by noobishere - yeah its rated e but its so sweet okay

Lovesick by szamsson - sander picks robbe up from school

you're a wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall - boyfriends go camping

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall - Christmas gift giving at the flatshare

we're keeping it simple by noobishere - eenvoud babyyyyy

Meet me in the hallway by nbrook - ahsdka Milan

double date. by fockinglevendcliche - double date with amber and aaron

back to the beach house. by fockinglevendcliche - sander wants to get it on and robbe is weak but their friends are assholes

take me with your constant shame by peaceoutofthepieces - cute date hold me close by sincerelysobbe - robbe is stressed and sander is the best boyfriend you charge me up (like electricity) by howlingsaturn - secret boyfriends if you say swim by soundnvision - another date another pool Modern Love by angelboygabriel - okay yes this is e rated but their. boyfriends and they're happy they're just also horny mkay You make me feel like I am whole again by nbrook - robbe has a rough day but sander is there being all cute and making it better I've been looking so long at these pictures of you by nbrook - much banter very cute You're my favourite kind of night by nbrook - at a halloween party finally kissing the right people Show me a piece of your heart, show me a piece of your love by nbrook - boyfriend tag for the broerrrs channel, unfinished but so much fun thus far working double time by noobishere - sander is wearing a turtleneck and he looks hot in it Ground Control by angelboygabriel - christmas clinging and sex because why not oh and they're in love hopeless romantics by thekardemomme - it's their anniversary and ugh they love each other sm sander driesen versus a mistletoe by dottori - its christmas and sander just wants to fucking kiss robbe okay high for this by flowermaze - sander is drowsy and still finds time to flirt with robbe All You've Got to Do Is Win by berrevy - they actually do play that tennis match years kept in minutes by peaceoutofthepieces - they have traditions and its adorable pls love is the opening door by cryingcancer - robbe and sander facetime on their anniversary after sander was sappy on instagram Home by foxsake5 - sander is a massive simp and robbe looks hot in a robe You don't have to say you're mine by nbrook - robbe is a little insecure and sander is there to reassure him Distracting by sincerelysobbe - v v v cute jahsdjah sander is weak for robbe we all understand bro February 14th, 2021 by foxsake5 - no words bro just cute af if we can make it through december (maybe we'll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall - sobbe at the christmas market This = Love by nbrook - robbe is hungover and sander loves to tease him They ain't living life like this by Createdforyou - halloween but this year they're together

sexy times

Woensdag 16:36 by Anonymous

i don't even wanna fuck, i just like you by eversincewefellapart

Vrijdag 18:26 by Anonymous - hurt and comfort

video phone by tokyometropolis(mesohorany) - quarantine times

Don't know where I'm going from here (but I promise it won't be boring) by skamsnake

snakebite by Anonymous

Zaterdag 09:58 by foxsake5

Wildfire by sincerelysobbe - no smut just kissing but they steamy

come on (mess me up) by MajorAccent - sex but tender 🥺

The Teenage Trifecta by little_but_fierce

i glow pink in the night in my room (blossoming alone over you) by midsummernightoddity

life is a pop of the cherry by icedwhitemocha - the hotel

Ik Win by Anonymous

In his arms tonight by allforyoumylove

long may he reign by tokyometropolis(meohorany) - well considered smut jsdhjhd

Draw Me Closer by skamsnake

When I live my dream (please be there to meet me) by skamsnake

we click, we go boom! by strangeparties Dark Red by nancy_mcfly - friends with benefits play the game of grown-ups by Anonymous - they have a lot of sex but its because they're in love

[piteouspeculiarity]

Defining Home: Extended Author's Note

Warning: This might contain spoilers for the series

(For clarity, when I say 'Tommy' etc in this post, I'm talking about the characters from my fics, not the content creators themselves.)

So it's done, huh? This note will include the sappy shit, the fun facts, then some of the more serious stuff, because I just didn't want to add an essay to the end of that chapter.

First of all, thank you all for the support along the way. Defining Home is easily my most popular series of fics I’ve ever written and I’ve been writing fanfic for years now. The comments and the kudos and the bookmarks were so very validating when I was new to the fandom, and still are. Hell, people have gifted me fics and written related fics to Defining Home, which blows my tiny mind. I haven’t gotten the chance to read a lot of them yet (procrastination I know thy name), but when I do, I’ll be leaving my best comments in thanks <3

I'll be honest, when I posted the first chapter of Enough, I never expected it to turn into what it did.

That first chapter was written in my phone notes at 3am, hours before an exam. I hadn't interacted with the fandom at all at that point, didn't even have a Tumblr for it, but boy oh boy did I get a warm welcome.

The point is, that first chapter was a very spur in the moment thing, mainly consisting of one scene I couldn't get out of my head (Tommy on a train to Wilbur's). I've gotten a few people telling me since then that they wished that they could write as well as I can, which is a huge compliment, but every person can write a fic like Enough. There are things that we all struggle with when it comes to writing: dialogue, prose, starting scenes - I have my own things I struggle with, things you might have noticed, things you might have not. You don't have to be a perfect writer to tell a story, especially in fandoms, where betas are easy to come across.

Write your story, even if its just for yourself. Posting that chapter gave me the chance to make new friends and I'll never stop being grateful for that.

One of those friends is Kat, who I've mentioned a couple times in the author's notes, but who honestly, I owe a lot to. Kat has encouraged me and been one of the main motivators to write this fic when I felt like it would never be finished, or that I'd never live up to other people's expectations. Sometimes, that meant motivating in some weird ass ways, but hey, it worked.

People who know me in discord servers might know that I'm a simp for Kat and it's damn true. Kat, I love you, you've improved my life more than you know in the last couple months and you deserve so, so much happiness.

In fear of love reciprocation from Kat, we'll move swiftly on to the more fun side of things.

Anyone feel like fun facts? You might already know some of these because I tend to overshare in author's notes, but I'm pretty sure some of them are new to all of you.

Barney the dog? Named after my own late labrador, who I love very much and loved to jump in lakes and need rescuing, time and time again.

I had no plans in moving Tommy in with Techno, hell, I had no plans in Techno moving to England at all. It was as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone else when he told Tommy the news, but I latched onto the idea and ran with it. I think it worked out okay, in the end.

Techno has a draw in his bedroom full of parenting books, most of which were stolen from Phil.

After Tommy asked for help about what to do with Dream, Wilbur sent Dream a dm telling him he better not fuck anything up and if he did, Wilbur would not hesitate to humiliate him in front of millions of people. It was unnecessary, of course, but Dream was definitely a bit more cautious about what he said when he listened to Tommy’s explanation.

Some of my favourite things about writing Defining Home:

The Tesco v Asda discourse. Look, some of you just need to accept that Asda is the superior shop and get off your Tesco stanning bullshit. /j

The offers I would get for new chapters, some honourable mentions being newborns, siblings, diamonds and kidneys.

Now, I know that as much as I tried to, I won't have managed to include everything that everyone wanted from Defining Home, whether that's certain confrontations or scenes, I am sorry if I haven't included.

I don't imagine myself writing any more in the series, not because I think there isn't more I could write about, but because as a whole it feels complete to me, and any added oneshots I write would disturb that.

Right now Defining Home feels well rounded in a way that I'm proud of. The minute I realised that Enough was going to turn into a series I planned out how I wanted it to work. Maybe its just the maths part of my brain, but I like how there's three fics, with three chapters in each and how Tommy heals as you progress throughout the series.

My aim for the series was for the tone to get lighter as you went through, because yes, things kept happening (confrontation with dad, beach incident etc) but the point was that Tommy dealt with those things in different ways that he would have earlier on in the series. I have lots of thoughts and lots of emotions about how he felt safe enough with his family to experience nightmares and such. I made an effort in The Truth Behind Family to include more fluff, especially in the last two chapters, because I think it’s important to show that yeah, his parents’ abuse effected him, but it didn’t dictate how he lived his life. 

Like yes, I could write about their first Christmas together, for example, and add it onto the series, but I don’t think that I’d be able to do the rest of the series justice in that. Defining Home is largely about what the title implies, Tommy discovering what words like ‘home’ and ‘family’ mean beyond what he’s been told he’s stuck with and I believe that by the end of the series, he’s been successful in that. 

I'm so proud of the characters I wrote, Tommy in particular, for how far they've come in Defining Home, but I think that in a way, it’s time for me to let them go.

That’s not to say I’m done with writing for sbi! Hell no! 

I have a couple long fics in the works and a one shot I’m working on. The main fic I’m excited to focus on now Defining Home is finished is heavy heart, heavy head, heavy hero which, to put it simply, is an sbi royalty au, where unfortunate circumstances mean Tommy is forced to become King. It’s going to be a little more plot focused than Defining Home was and I am so very pumped to give it my full attention instead of leaving that lonely one chapter on AO3 like I have been doing.

I was 🤏close to making a Discord server, but ultimately decided I’m much more suited to causing chaos on other people’s servers than running my own. I think at this point the karma would be too great to even consider making my own server, so if you’d like to talk to me on Discord, keep an eye for me on other people’s servers - I mainly lurk, but I’m pretty active on one or two :D

On a more serious note, Defining Home deals with some heavy topics and I’ve had comments tell me that they relate to Tommy’s situation and wish that they had their own found family to run to. 

This Tumblr post has a list of phone numbers and places you can contact if you need help or want someone to talk to. Saying that, I recognise that a list as long as that can be daunting, so feel free to shoot me a message and I can either help you find the right one for you, or keep you company for a bit if you need it. 

Not all of us are lucky enough to have our own found family, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t forever, or that you’re alone. My dms and ask box are always open if you want someone to talk to.

Keep yourselves safe <3

- Lee 

[hxwks-gf]

ー don’t make me beg

pairing: bakugo x reader

summary: you run into bakugo, your ex-boyfriend, at a party. heated confessions ensue. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, some suggestive themes, bakugo is a subby simp at the end lmfao i couldn’t resist. everyone is 21+ because drinking

w/c: 2.7k 

a/n: so this thought actually came to me randomly in the middle of the night last night and i just now got around to writing it out. for optimal reading experience, listen to these songs as you read (i’ll put another link in the actual fic as a reminder, idk you don’t have to i just thought it would be fun) 

♫  outre lux - onism

♫  fire for you - cannons

♫  all your love - jakob ogawa

9:27 PM

“I don’t know,” you sighed into the phone, rolling over on your back and kicking your feet up against the wall of your bedroom. You wiggled your toes in their mismatched socks and pouted. “I’m not really in a party mood tonight, Mina.” 

“C’mon,” she whined on the other end, in that strange “Mina” way that almost always got you to say yes. “Just for a little bit! We’ve been working so hard at the agency, we deserve a night off for once!” 

You sighed again and sat up normally, resting your chin in your hand. She had a point: you were both worked to the bone from the seemingly endless patrols and stacks of paperwork. Who knew that this is where you would end up at after graduation? Your eyes flickered over to your closet, already putting an outfit together in your head. “Alright, fine. But only for a little bit.” 

Mina squealed in excitement. “Perfect! This will be good, I promise.” 

♫  outre lux - onism

Not long after the call had ended, Mina came and picked you up and drove you to a different part of town you vaguely recognized. She led you up the steps of an apartment building, and you could already hear the bass of the music reverberating through the walls. The room was a few floors up and at the end of a long hall with the door propped open. Mina carelessly let herself inside, dragging you with her by your hand. 

“Mina!” a familiar voice called over the music. Your eyes wandered along the various groups of partygoers, admiring the glow from the neon signs that decorated the walls. There were a few people you recognized: Midoriya and Ururaka were awkwardly dancing together, with Iida not too far away from them. There were others from your graduating class, including Kirishima, who was walking towards you and Mina with a wide grin on his face. 

“You made it!” he said, stopping in front of you. “Thanks for coming, you guys! Help yourselves to some drinks, there’s also some pizza left, I think.” 

Mina hugged him. “For sure! But right now, I just really want to dance.” She turned towards you and raised her eyebrows. “Wanna come?” 

“I’ll be okay,” you said as you ushered her forward. “I’ll find you later, alright?” 

She nodded and disappeared into the group of people, leaving you alone with Kirishima, who awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. 

“It’s awesome that you came, y/n,” he said, flashing another grin. “Wasn’t sure if you were going to.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Mina has a way with words, you know?” 

Kirishima laughed. “That she does.” 

“So if this is your party….” Your words trailed off as your eyes slid across the faces of everyone in the room, feeling like everything was slowing down around you. A slow, bass-boosted song started playing. “...does that mean Katsuki is here?” 

Your gaze answered your own question once they landed on your ex-boyfriend standing off in the corner with Kaminari. He was arguing with him about something, his hand tightly gripping the red solo cup and the other pointed menacingly at Denki’s goofy expression. God, he looked good. He was wearing your favorite shirt of his: a simple black v-neck, paired with his nicest jeans that hugged his ass perfectly. For a brief moment, you met Kaminari���s eyes, and his face changed. He leaned over and whispered something in Bakugo’s ear. 

Bakugo’s head turned and his crimson gaze landed on you standing near the entrance with Kirishima. You swallowed nervously, staring right back at him, and it felt as if the entire room melted away and left just the two of you. 

“...sorry, I should’ve told Mina ahead of time,” you heard Kirishima saying to you. You squeezed your hands into fists at your sides. 

“It’s alright,” you found yourself replying. You broke your gaze from Bakugo and offered Kirishima a reassuring smile. “We’re adults here, right? I came to relax and have fun.” 

The lie almost sounded believable. But Kirishima said nothing about it and simply returned your grin, pushing you towards the kitchen. “Get a drink or two in you,” he said, blocking Bakugo from view. “I’m sure Mina needs a dance partner soon.” 

♫  fire for you - cannons

“Right,” you laughed, and he left you alone in the kitchen. Once he was out of earshot, you released the nervous breath you had been holding and tried to still your trembling hands. It had been just a few months since you and Bakugo had “mutually” split, but in reality, it had been his idea. He wanted to focus on his career and you wanted to get more serious. As you opened the refrigerator, you remembered the teary, sniffling goodbye you gave him on the steps of your apartment building as he carried a box of his stuff. He didn’t so much as bat an eye. 

“You’re an adult, you’re here to have fun, just don’t think about him,” you muttered to yourself as you cracked open a bottle of cider. 

“Think about who?” 

You jumped in surprise and nearly dropped your drink. “Jesus,” you groaned, and then glared at Bakugo standing in the doorway, his hands tucked into his jeans. “Don’t fucking sneak up on someone like that.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile. “You were always so easy to scare.” 

A blush crept into your cheeks and you looked away from him. “What do you want?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink. The floor of the kitchen suddenly became incredibly fascinating as you avoided meeting his eyes. 

“Didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he said. “Did Raccoon Eyes con you into it?” 

“Don’t call her that,” you said sharply, looking up at him again. “And no, she didn’t con me into it. I wanted to come.” You gave him a once-over. “What are you doing here, anyway? You hate things like this.” 

Bakugo leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. “Kirishima said that if I came, other people would too. Guess I’m just popular.” 

“Right,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and fiddling with the bottle in your hands. “I don’t think popular is the right word I would use.” 

He took a few steps closer to you and you could smell his cologne. It was the scent he knew you loved the most, you noticed. Interesting. Wearing your favorite shirt and your favorite cologne? It was almost like he knew you were planning on coming tonight. 

“What’s the word you would use then?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly as he leaned back against the sink, his hands bracing on the edge of the counter on either side of him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being overpowered, so you stood your ground and refused to move from your spot, taking another drink of cider. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, risking a glance at him. You instantly regretted it. He was looking at you with that rare expression of admiration that only you ever had the privilege of seeing behind closed doors when the two of you were still together, but it still made your heart beat faster and faster, even now. 

“The word you would use,” he said, blinking slowly at you. “Or do I still have that effect on you? That makes you forget what you were saying?” 

“You’re so full of shit, I need a plunger,” you snapped, turning away from him and escaping to the other side of the kitchen. “What are you doing? Why are you talking to me?” 

For a moment, Bakugo actually looked….hurt. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, but a brief moment and it was gone. “I’m sorry,” he said tightly, crossing his arms. “Enjoy the party, y/n.” Without letting you reply, he stalked out of the kitchen and disappeared from view, leaving you all alone, confused and trembling and….sad. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, and you stared at the bottle in your hands. You blew a raspberry at it and tipped it back, downing the rest of the cider in a few, full gulps. He wasn’t allowed to ruin the fun you were supposed to be having tonight. You tossed the bottle into the recycling bin and left the kitchen. 

“y/n!” Mina called to you from the middle of the living room, where most of the dancing was. She was swaying and shimmying to the song that was playing, her hands in the air and her face in a state of perpetual happiness. “Dance with me!” 

“Alright,” you laughed, slipping into the midst of the dancers and following her movements. After a while, you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax, nearly forgetting your awkward encounter with Bakugo in the kitchen. You deserved this. You deserved to have fun, and he wasn’t going to take it from you. 

“I hear that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is here,” Mina said into your ear over the music with a comedic grimace on her face. “Did he talk to you?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, in the kitchen. He was acting weird.” 

“Probably because you looked hot as fuck tonight and he realized what exactly he’s been missing,” she said. Her eyes lit up with mischief. “What if you made him jealous?” 

“I don’t want anyone getting wheeled out of here on a gurney,” you laughed, but the thought remained in the back of your head. You did look good tonight, and there was bound to be someone who wanted to have a couple dances with you. But what would you gain from it? It would just be sending Bakugo the message that you weren’t over him yet (which was true, but he didn’t need to know that). “I think I just want to dance, have a few more drinks, and that’s it.” 

Mina rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fair enough.” 

But as hard as you tried to forget, your mind kept going back to Bakugo. His scent, his voice, his warmthーyou fucking missed him, you missed him so much it hurt. Seeing him for the first time in months from across the room had hit you like a truck and flooded your mind with memories of his kiss, his touch, and his love. The harder you danced, the heavier it weighed on your mind, until a pit of nausea bubbled in your stomach. 

“I think I’m going to take a break,” you said to Mina over the music. The room suddenly felt cramped and small, with too many people and too much noise. You needed fresh air. But as you slipped out of the group of dancers, you saw that the patio was full of people standing around and mingling. 

“Shit,” you muttered, and turned around to make your way to the bathroom. It was so loud. Were there this many people when you first came here? 

♫  all your love - jakob ogawa

As you moved past bodies standing in the hallway, you were sure you heard someone call your name, but you didn’t stop until you were safely behind the door of the bathroom. The music was muffled and shook the walls as you leaned against the sink, glaring at your reflection. 

“Get it together,” you hissed at yourself. “It’s just a fucking party.” 

Someone knocked outside, startling you. “In use!” you called out. 

“It’s me,” Bakugo’s voice came from the other side. “Can you let me in?” 

You felt your heart drop. He was the last person you wanted on the other side of that door. But somehow, you found your hand twisting the knob and cracking it open, meeting his eyes through it. 

“You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to keep your voice level. 

“You sure?” Bakugo knew you weren’t telling the truth.  

“Yes,” you replied, but your voice cracked on the word. You squeezed your eyes shut and inwardly groaned. You could smell his scent again, as well as feel the ever-present warmth that never seemed to leave him. 

Before you could protest, Bakugo was pushing the door open and letting himself in, careful to close and lock it behind him. You backed away and sat on the edge of the bathtub, not wanting to meet his eyes. However, he knelt in front of you and tilted his head to the side, bracing his hands on either side of you. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, and his voice rumbled through you like a waterfall. 

“Rich of you to ask that,” you muttered, feeling the shameful sting of tears in your eyes. 

He sighed. “I really am sorry for what happened, y/n.” 

This wasn’t like him to apologize so brazenly. You risked a glance up at him, and he was looking at you so intensely, you immediately averted your gaze. But a brief moment later and you felt his index finger beneath your chin, slowly lifting it so you were forced to look at him again. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered, a single tear slipping out and sliding down your cheek. “We broke up, Katsuki. You wanted to break up.” 

His jaw set. “I know,” he growled, his thumb reaching up and swiping the tear away. “But I just...I can’t imagine you with anyone else. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.” 

“Stop it,” you sniffled, pulling your chin away and swatting at his hand. “Stop. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to hold me on the end of a leash like this, and tightening it whenever you’re in your feelings. At the end of it all, you were the one who left, Katsuki. And it’s not fair to me.” 

He stared at you with wide eyes. For a minute, he looked like the regular Bakugo. But it passed, and he dropped his eyes in shame. 

“I know it’s not fair,” he muttered, sitting back and resting his arms on his knees. He stared at his hands. “I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s just...seeing you tonight for the first time in months, you looked so fucking beautiful and I felt so fucking stupid.” 

You looked down at him from where you sat on the edge of the tub, your eyes blurring with tears. “What do you want from me, Katsuki?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I want you to come home!” he exploded, looking up at you with a fierceness in his eyes, it almost frightened you. “I fucking miss you, alright? I hate waking up in an empty bed in the mornings.” He ground his teeth and glared at his hands again. “I miss your laugh. I miss those goddamn stupid songs you would play when you did the dishes. I just miss you.” 

You closed your eyes and took a trembling breath. “So what are you saying?” you asked, feeling your fingernails dig into your palms. “Do you want to get back together? Is that what you want?” 

“Don’t make me beg,” you heard him mutter. 

Oh. Oh. Your eyes opened and you looked down at him again. He saw the wicked glint in your gaze and he ran his hands through his hair with a scoff. 

“No,” he said, glaring at you. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“That sucks,” you simpered. “I’ll see you around then, Katsuki.” You made to get up and leave the bathroom, but his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, forcing you to stop. 

“y/n,” he growled. 

You arched an eyebrow down at him. “Yes?” 

A moment passed and he forcefully exhaled through his nose, as if working himself up to something. 

“Please,” he finally spoke through gritted teeth. 

“Please what?” 

“Can we please try again?” Bakugo asked, his fingers tightening around your wrist. 

You reached down and lifted his chin with an index finger, much like he did with you. His crimson eyes burned so hot as they met your own, and you smiled at him. 

“I like it when you beg,” you murmured, and a furious blush blossomed across his cheeks. “You should do it more often.” 

“Is that a yes?” he asked as he got to his feet, now towering over you. 

“Perhaps,” you mused, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I’ll decide in the morning after you’ve made me breakfast.” 

“Breakfastー?” Bakugo stopped and grinned. “Oh, you think you’re funny, do you?” His hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into his chest, dipping his head to brush a gentle but sultry kiss across your lips. “Good enough for me.”