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toruro · 10 months

Text

— ✧ back to december

a part of flower me with love ... an hhu unit x flowers collection !

genre: smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers

description: it's been four months and twenty-two days since you've last talked to mingyu, however your mother still thinks you two are friends. you don't have the heart to tell her what really happened, and now you think it's time for you to move on. (un?)fortunately for you though, mingyu seems to have other plans.

inspired by back to december by taylor swift!

tags: miscommunication, unrequited love (not fr though), big dick mingyu, sex in a car >_<, riding, fingering, pet names (angel, pretty), creampie :3

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: happy birthday @gyuswhore!!! this fic is for em but if not em and ur reading it i hope u enjoy too. this is like 2/3 plot and 1/3 smut if anyone cares

Normality is bliss.

That’s what you used to tell yourself. That’s what you used to believe.

Normality was bright mornings, crisp air, slow walking down the main street, inhaling the ambrosial scent of freshly roasted coffee beans, and slipping under the fairy lights that hang over the door. It was the warm sound of the overhead bell ringing, permeating laughter in the cafe from all customers, and daisies in a pot by the entrance.

Normality was Mingyu. His bright laugh as you approach the counter, sweet voice as he playfully asks you what drink you’d like, to which you roll your eyes and respond with, “You already know, don’t you?” It was the chuckle he would let out, the wink he flashed at you, murmuring the words, “It’s on the house” (because with Mingyu, it was always on the house), the thanks you give him before stepping back.

Normality was the latte he handed you, rough yet ginger fingers brushing over your palm as he warned you, “Careful, it’s hot,” and the giggle you let out when you stepped back and asked how his morning was going. It was Mingyu telling you nothing special happened yet. It was Mingyu suggesting that you two hang out at the field after he’s done with work. It was you grinning and agreeing in an instant, but only under the condition that he picks you up after your class.

Normality was bliss until four months and twenty-two days ago.

Now, normality hurts like a bitch.

Your mother glances at you from the corner of her vision as you rummage through the fridge. “What’re you looking for?”

“Some bread,” you murmur. “Was really craving a tomato sandwich … Damn, we’re seriously out of white bread?” you ask, giving up with a sigh as you close the door and face her.

She shrugs. “If it’s not in the fridge then I guess so. We’re low on produce too actually … I’d be surprised if you find tomatoes in there too,” she says. You purse your lip, shuffling through the different rows of cabinets to find something to throw together to take for lunch as your mother continues to speak. “You think you could stop by the grocery store after class today and pick up some stuff?”

“Yeah sure,” you reply casually.

“Ah, I wish Mingyu still stopped by with the groceries,” your mother says, and the sudden mention of his name has you halting your movements as you reach for a croissant, before you inhale deeply and go back to doing your own thing.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, clearing your throat after the word comes out horsley.

“You know why he stopped doing that?”

You try not to think about how you still haven’t told your mother that you and Mingyu don’t talk anymore.

“Uhh, I guess uni’s been getting to be a lot of work,” you tell her. “We’re both taking way harder classes so, uh, I guess he doesn’t have the time.”

“Hmm, yeah makes sense. You’re always swamped up in that room of yours ‘cause of work too … haven’t seen you two hang out in a while actually.”

You chew on your lip, staring down at your little bag for lunch and the croissant that sits inside. You wonder if you’ll even have the appetite to eat anything today after this conversation.

“We’re just busy. It’s harder to talk now.” It’s not entirely a lie. Grabbing the bag and picking up your backpack, you turn to face your mother who’s scrolling on her phone. “I’m gonna go now. My first class is starting soon.”

Now, normality is huffing as you get into your car, wishing you had a coffee next to you, but being too full of cowardice to head over to the cafe.

(“Go to a different cafe!” is what common sense would tell you, but common sense doesn’t listen to a love that has been betrayed. No other latte tastes the same, but you know that’s only because no other latte has been made by Mingyu.)

You pick up groceries on the way home.

Now, normality is staring at the daisies that are on display as you walk through the front doors of the store and reminiscing. It’s wondering what once was, and what could have been, if you decided to keep your silly feelings to yourself.

Normality is regretting. Regretting ever opening your mouth and telling Mingyu four months and twenty-two days ago that you loved him, and that you had loved him for not one, not two, not five, but ten damn years, because that was when you two met, and you always loved Kim Mingyu, but you should have known that not once did he love you back. Not how you would’ve wanted anyways.

Normality is wondering. Wondering if Mingyu would still be dropping off groceries if you hadn’t told him that you loved him, if he hadn’t told you he didn’t know what to tell you. Wondering if he thinks of you now. Wondering if he has any regrets. Wondering if he’s okay, but you lost the chance to know the answer to that question four months and twenty-two days ago. Wondering if—

Tomatoes. You need to buy the tomatoes, and the bread, some green beans, spinach, bell pepper, and more cheese, milk, maybe some butter, and—what was it that your mother told you to get? Oh, some strawberries.

You need to get all of these things, but there were no daisies on the list, so how did a bouquet full of them end up in your cart? You tell yourself you picked them up because they’re on sale, but you know the real reason is because you miss Mingyu.

Directing your attention back to the list you were sent on your phone, you hum lowly to yourself as you push your cart through the aisles. Checking items off your notes app, you exist with just yourself, your tomatoes, and fresh daisies as you try and finish these groceries before it gets too late into the evening.

Staring at your screen, you almost don’t notice that the dairy aisle isn’t empty until you bump into someone. “Sorry,” you mutter quickly, “I—” The words get caught in your throat when you see just exactly who you’ve hit.

Averting your gaze quickly, you wonder if Mingyu will respond, but you choose to scurry away quickly instead, because as cowardly as it sounds, you’re not sure if you’re ready to hear his voice again.

You’re not sure why your heart beats so fast when you escape into another aisle. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t read the look on his face for the brief second that your eyes met.

(Ten years of being best friends and you somehow don’t know what he’s thinking. Can four months and twenty-two days really change a person that much? Or did you never know Kim Mingyu in the first place?)

When you get home, your mother asks you where you got the daisies from. You tell her Mingyu gave them to you, because you want to convince her that you two are still best friends, and maybe—just maybe—you’re trying to convince yourself of it too.

You decide to buy a latte five days later. Mingyu never worked the evening shifts, so you’re confident you’ll get one of the other’s as the barista if you walk in past 6pm. Seokmin’s always nice. He doesn’t make the latte’s as sweet as you like—more specifically, as sweet as Mingyu made them—but he’s kind and always cheery.

When you walk in today, the pot by the door is empty. There are no more daisies, and you wonder if this is what has become of normality.

Your eyes glaze over the familiar setting, breathing in the sweet, rusty smell of coffee, and you smile watching all the cafe-goers laugh along with each other in their seats. All is going well, and you’re telling yourself that maybe this new normal isn’t too bad. That you’ve lived with it for four months and twenty-seven days, and so you can live with it longer and—

Your heart plummets when you see who's working the register today.

Maybe you really never knew Kim Mingyu, because you swore he hated the evening shifts, but here he is with a neatly tied apron, smiling while he talks to some girl across the counter. And his toothy grin is so bright and you aren’t sure if you’re seeing things correctly because everything sound has turned to a white rush in your ears and your vision blurs because you are once again awarded the painful reminder that you are in love with Kim Mingyu.

You thought your heart broke right in two back in December, but you hear it crack in this moment and realize that this was the final blow.

There are tears in your eyes, and you don’t know how long you stand there, until you hear your name. Seokmin is calling for you, and when you look up there’s no girl at the counter and it’s just Mingyu and Seokmin staring at you.

And you wonder briefly if you should be glad that Mingyu looks concerned but you don’t have time to dwell on the fact because Seokmin calls for you again—“Hey, are you okay? You—you’re crying”—and fuck, you’ve just humiliated yourself, so with fat tears hitting the dark wood ground you turn on your heel and rush out the door.

You keep thinking and wondering and regretting and you hate it all because regret has become normality, but regret is not a bliss.

You walk down the street, and you keep walking and walking and walking until you realize you forgot where you parked the car but none of that matters because all you’re thinking about is Mingyu’s smile, and how he doesn’t smile at you anymore. And so you walk faster and cry a bit harder until you’re so far down the street you don’t even know where you are anymore but it doesn’t matter because you don’t know who you’ve become.

And there’s footsteps thudding behind you—are you going to get kidnapped now? Fuck, you’ve already had the most horrendous sequence of events that could possibly happen to you in the span of five minutes, and now it’s going to get worse? If this goddamn kidnapper could just target you any other day, then maybe you wouldn’t whip around with tearful eyes, shouting into the dark: “Please don’t kidnap me! I’ll go with you any other day but—Mingyu!?”

His tall figure is hunched over, hands over his thighs as he heaves for breath, craning his neck to look up at you. “Kidnap you? Why in the world would I kidnap you?” he asks through harsh breaths. “Fuck, you walk so fast,” he groans, finally standing up as you furiously wipe your tears away in an attempt to actually make sense of this situation.

“I—” You want to reply, but then it hits you that this is the first time Mingyu has spoken to you in four months and twenty-seven days, and the thought is dizzying. “I don’t know,” you tell him, because you really don’t know. You don’t know a damn thing.

Mingyu looks at you with a look that you, once again, can’t seem to read. “Sorry, I—I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, and anyone would be able to see through the lie but you’re hoping that Mingyu doesn’t pry any further. He doesn’t move, nor does he say anything. “You can, uh, go back now,” you add, rubbing the back of your neck as you stare at the ground. “I’m okay.”

“You—you were crying.”

Opening your mouth to protest, you realize you can’t refute him now. Not when it was so painfully obvious. You choose silence instead, hoping that your apprehension will be enough to drive him away, although it only seems to egg Mingyu on.

You don’t expect the words he blurts out after a few moments of thickness.

“You don’t know how much I wish I could go back to December and change things.”

“Please don’t lie to me Mingyu,” you tell him, and he can just hear from the way you say his name that you are desperately pleading with him. When you finally look up at him with glossy eyes, he wonders how in the world he let things get this far.

“I’m not lying, I—I wouldn’t lie about this.”

“What do you mean by this, Mingyu? What is this?” You cover your face and begin to sob, but not without gasping out words between heavy breaths. “Please don’t do this to me, not again.”

And when you uncover your face and look at him again, he’s got some bewildered look on his face, and you can’t tell what he’s going to say next.

“The girl,” Mingyu starts to say. “That’s my cousin. She was visiting me at work and—”

“It’s not about the girl, Mingyu!” And that’s a bit of a lie because some part of it is about the girl but it’s mainly about you and it’s mainly about Mingyu—mainly about the two of you.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and speaks. “Sorry, I—you’re right.”

Silence once more, before you calm your breaths and shake your head. “You should head back, Mingyu.”

“No I—wait, I just—I’m not lying. I regret everything I did in December.”

“Ming—”

“No, please listen to me. I regret not telling you how I actually felt, but I was so confused,” he tells you, repeating your name. “I was confused and fucking terrified because if things didn’t work out for some reason, then I would’ve lost my best friend but—but I was fucking stupid and lost you anyways. And you know, I wanted to reach out. I wanted to talk to you so bad but then like last week, when I saw you in the grocery store, and—daisies.”

“Daisies?” You furrow your brows.

“Daisies. You had a bouquet of them in your cart,” Mingyu tells you, taking a step forward. “And I know how much you love daisies. Your favorite flowers in the world. I saw them in your cart and thought to myself, fuck, I missed my chance, because I thought you had them for someone else and—”

“They weren’t,” you blurt out. “I-I even told my mom you got me them,” you add bashfully, “because she doesn’t know we stopped … yeah.”

There’s a silence that sits between you two, but you’re starting to realize that silence has become normality and you are no longer content with that.

“Mingyu, do you love me?”

He doesn’t hesitate to respond. “More than you love daisies.”

You laugh through your drying tears. You laugh so hard it makes you cry no longer because of pain but because of happiness, and you shake your head and throw your arms around him. “Kim Mingyu, that is a bold statement.”

“What can I say?” he grins. “I’m a bold man.”

“Where was that bold man for the past four months and twenty-seven days?” you snort.

Mingyu raises a brow. “You’ve been counting?” For a moment your expression falls but then he shakes his head and smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve been too.”

You two are quick to head back, Mingyu begging Seokmin to hold the first alone for the weekend before taking the wheel of your car and driving you both to your favorite field of daisies.

“Are we going to have sex for the first time in your car?” Mingyu asks with a chuckle, climbing into the backseat from one end while you pile in from the other.

Giggling, you meet his lips for a kiss as soon as the door shuts behind him, arms winding around his thick neck to bring him close. “The way you said that insinuates there we’ll be having more sex after this,” you tell him with a smile before diving back into another tongue twisting kiss.

“Hell yeah,” Mingyu groans against your tongue as you adjust to situate yourself over his lap, hips pressing dangerously close to his. “Gonna fuck you every day if I can. If you can handle that,” he adds.

You roll your eyes, pulling back to help yourself out of the cardigan and shirt you’re wearing. “What makes you think I can’t handle it?”

He only flashes you a toothy grin and quickly glances down at his groin area before winking at you. “You’ll see.”

“Kim Mingyu, you are a little shit,” you conclude despite the way your tummy churns at his insinuation, throwing off your shirt as Mingyu helps you out of a bra.

“I’m not little, that’s for sure … fuck, you’ve got the prettiest tits in the world,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your torso to pull you closer so he can plant his lips on the soft flesh. His mouth is warm, tongue tracing constellations over our skin before enclosing one of your nipples with his lips.

Slowly, his tongue traces circles around the stiffened nipple, teeth grazing over it ever so gently before biting down with slight force. “Ah!” you moan out, head thrown back as your hands travel up his neck and into his hair, fisting the thick, dark locks. “‘m sensitive, ‘gyu,” you tell him, shaky-breathed as he pulls his mouth off your tits with a slip popping sound.

“Sorry,” he says with a lazy smile. “Your tits are so nice,” Mingyu murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze over your other breast, tweaking the nipple in one hand as your hands begin to play with the hem of his tight fit shirt. “Fuck, can’t believe we didn’t fuck earlier. You know how much time we could’ve saved?” he says, pulling away just for a moment to peel the shirt off his body, revealing his firm, thick torso.

“I wonder whose fault that is?” You roll your eyes.

Mingyu frowns in response. “Don’t remind me … angel, take off your pants. Wanna finger you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, because in an instant your hands are at the waistband of your pants as heat rises to your cheeks upon hearing his words. Just the thought of Mingyu’s thick, longer fingers inside your aching cunt is enough for it to pulse around nothing as you throw your pants to the side and shove your panties to reveal your core.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs under his breath as you readjust yourself over his lap so that he can have better access between your legs. Slowly, he brings one hand up to your exposed cunt, bringing his middle finger to circle around your gaping hole. “Shit, you’re so wet, angel … so wet for me.”

“Just for you ‘gyu, just for you” you gasp out when he sinks one finger in, rough pads rubbing against your warm, gummy walls.

Now Mingyu occasionally entertains the outrageous idea that he’s well composed, but he’d be a fool to deny that, even though he can turn you to mush in the palm of his hand, you also have him wrapped around your little finger.

You only have to beg him once or twice for a second finger before he’s giving in, wanting nothing more than to spoil you until you can’t even remember what you were asking for in the first place. And naturally, when you finally tell him that you’re ready for more—ready for his cock—he can’t help but grin and comply.

“You think you’re ready?” he asks, slipping his fingers out and shoving them into your mouth so you can taste yourself.

“You think I’m not?” you mumble around his fingers. You pout a little and Mingyu chuckles, leaning in to give you a wet and sloppy kiss before lifting his hips a little.

“You’ll see angel … help me take this all off,” he tells you, and you’re quick to grab at his waistband and yank his pants and boxers down at the same time.

“What are you talking ab—oh.” The words dry on your tongue when you see his cock spring out, from underneath his boxers, the thickness slapping against Mingyu’s abdomen.

It’s fat and long and veiny in all the right places, heavy balls resting at the base of it, the reddish-pink tip smeared all over with his shiny, translucent white precum.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says with yet another chuckle, watching your face as you gaze down at his cock in awe.

“I-is it gonna fit?” you ask incredulously, eyes glancing back and forth between the smirk on Mingyu’s lips and the long length of his cock. Mingyu just shrugs and smooths his hands over your hips, your stomach, and then your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Your stomach flutters, cunt growing more and more needy and wet as the seconds tick by, and the way Mingyu’s tongue flicks against yours only heightens the feeling. When he pulls away, he settles his hands over your waist and directs you right over his cock, and something in you swells with pure arousal with the next words he says.

“Don’t worry angel, I’ll make it fit. You trust me?”

“Yeah,” you breath out, steadying your position as Mingyu uses one hand to guide his heavy length so that the tip points upwards and presses right against you.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses, and you moan as you feel him sliding against your folds in a slippery, sticky mess. “old onto me, yeah angel? If you want to stop just—”

“Say the word,” you finish for him, placing your hands on Mingyu’s bare shoulders as an attempt to steady yourself, breath hitching as his length pushes into your entrance. “Oh shit, ‘gyu!" you cry out as you begin to sink down on him.

Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—you can’t even fathom how, even after all his prep, Mingyu still feels like he’s nearly splitting you in half.

“Fuck, pretty—you’re so fucking tight,” Mingyu grunts, helping you nearly impale yourself on his cock. “Fucking fitting inside you so well,” he praises as he bottoms out inside of you, letting your forehead fall to his shoulder as you take deep breath.

Mingyu knows he’s big—knows it’s hard to fit him inside of you—and he’s feels so fucking lucky that he has you—so willing to take all that he’s giving—sucking him in and whining for more. He waits a few moments, only listening to the way your heavy breaths start to grow lighter, until you’re whimpering a soft, “‘gyu.”

He wastes no time in jerking his hips upward, shifting inside of you and battering the inside of your soft walls. You bite down on his shoulder as you push your hips down to meet his thrusts, choking back soft sobs as you feel his cock kiss your cervix with each movement.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu grunts as you begin to bounce on his lap, his length slipping out of you halfway before being plunged right back in with a sopping mess growing on his thighs.

You whine loudly at the overwhelming pleasure that takes over your body, lifting your head up so you could look at Mingyu with your mouth agape and hair stuck all over your burning face, a sheer layer of sweat starting to envelope both your bodies.

Soon, both of your movements begin to grow erratic and sloppy, hips jamming into each other so hard you’d be surprised if you even have the ability to walk tomorrow. You now know why Mingyu was concerned about fucking every day.

“You g’na cum soon pretty? Cum all over my cock? I can feel it angel, can feel your pretty cunt squeezing me.”

“Fuck, Mingyu,” you manage to gasp out, “Yeah, ’m gonna cum—feels so good, so full, so—fuck!”

Mingyu’s cock pulses inside of you and that’s when every detail seems to be heightened to a thousand—as your orgasm racks through you, you seem to feel every curve, every vein, dragging in and out of you to such detail that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you scream out his name.

Mingyu watches you fall apart, surrendering to bliss, and the way your hips are sporadically swiveling over his, your pussy’s wetness coating and creaming his cock has him going into a frenzy. Frantically, he begins to snap his hips faster up into you, your soft moans of overstimulation pushing him to his end faster than he can ever imagine. Watching the way he slides in and out of you is enough to have him cumming, shooting his hot, sticky load inside your warm cunt.

Riding out the last of his orgasm with soft rolls of his hips, Mingyu sighs contently at the feeling of you milking him dry, the both of you looking down at the wet, dirty mess you’ve made where the two of you connect, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

Both of you finally look up at the same time, grinning at each other, and you flop forward resting your head on his chest as he slowly combs his fingers through your hair, other hand running up and down your back.

“Why’d you start working the evening shifts?” you ask Mingyu after your breath has finally leveled. “I thought you hated those.”

“I did, but you stopped coming in the mornings, and I figured it was because of me. I hoped that maybe you would start coming in the evenings so I asked my boss to change my regular shifts just in case.”

“Oh wow, you really do love me.”

“I already told you I do! Even more than you love daisies, remember?”

#svt smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #svt fluff #svt angst #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu angst #📝 writing

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froggibus · 2 months

Note

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react.

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first.

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth.

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can.

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is.

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops.

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away.

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into.

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding.

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him.

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest.

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.”

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize.

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’.

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head.

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts.

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination.

“You can relax.” Dick hums.

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on.

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.”

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place.

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?”

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it.

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more.

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!”

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh.

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are.

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here?

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before.

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly.

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow.

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly.

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours.

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs.

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth.

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips.

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need.

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand.

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.”

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing.

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh.

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking.

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts.

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you.

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i get ^^

#dick Grayson #dick Grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson smut #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing smut #x reader #x you #batfam x reader #👽 anon #alien anon #froggi after dark #froggi requests

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rinhaler · 7 months

Note

OMG HI I LOCW UR WORKS U ARE SO TALENTED THAT MEGUMI KNW WITH THE GUN?? JAW DROPPED SCREAMING DLENCHING THE TOES WANT TO LICK THE SCREEN

anyways i love you and everything you write <3 was thinking about ex babysitter jujutsu kaisen guy.. envisioning geto or sukuna or gojo (???) idk but they like used to make fun of u and be a little angel for the parents n stuff but seeing them again but ur all grown up and a little spicy reunion !! n they’re like 5-7 yrs older so yum

got so so so carried away as usual but this was so fun to write.. i made it satoru and suguru bc i thought it would be fun :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, slight dubcon, fem!reader, age gap (reader 20s + them 30s), childhood crush to lovers?, alcohol consumption, love bites, tit sucking, praise, slight cucking?, double penetration (one hole), spanking, hair pulling, squirting, slight pussy eating, creampies, snowballing, pet names (sweetheart, baby).

words: 2.3k

It’s been months since you got to see a movie in the theatre. You don’t even remember the last time, or what you saw. But you’ve been counting down the days until you and your best friend finally had a day off work that lined up with each other. Why you’ve been craving seeing a movie, you’ll never know. But what you’ve been most excited for is the food.

Nothing has caught your eye, but your friend points out a cheesy sounding horror movie that you’re happy to see.

“Satoru? Is that you?” you ask, a familiar head of white hair catching your eye as you and your friend walk closer to him, seeing him leave the cinema screen you’re about to walk into. “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since I was…”

“Wow,” he chuckles. “Look at you, all grown up. Yeah, it’s been a long time.” he continues. Your eyes meet the stare of the woman on his arm.

She smiles, but you see it’s disingenuous. Her body language is clingy and affectionate, desperately holding onto Satoru’s arm as she urges him to leave with her. You aren’t surprised that she’s trying to lead him away, but you are taken aback that someone has managed to tie the Satoru Gojo down. He was always popular with girls back when he used to babysit you, but he was never one for commitment or staying faithful.

“You two make a cute couple.” you smile at them both, trying to put the girl at ease. It doesn’t work, however. Instead, it seems to make her more nervous.

“It’s our first date.” Satoru informs you. He sighs a little as she pulls at his t-shirt, and it’s less than discreet. “We’re going to dinner later, so we better get going. It was nice seeing you though.” he smiles.

“Wait,” you stop him. “Um, are you still in touch with Suguru?” you wonder.

He smirks at that. He always teased you about having a crush on his best friend after the first time he brought him over for babysitting duty. They didn’t come as a pair every time after that, but it was more often than not. He made your heart race and you lost all ability to form a coherent sentence. You knew he’d never be interested in you; he was older and cooler than you’d ever hope to be.

“Of course. You know what? Here, give me your phone.” he tells you. The girl’s eyes fill with water, a look of defeat in a battle you weren’t even participating in overwhelms her. He quickly types his number into your phone and texts himself so that you can exchange contact information. “We can arrange a little reunion, yeah? See you around.” he winks before leading his date away.

A whole fortnight has passed before any plans come to fruition. That cinema trip is a distant memory that has been replaced with flirty texts in the group chat Satoru decided to make with you and Suguru.

It’s like being a teenager again.

Satoru’s teasing is ceaseless. Everything is so casual and generic in the group chat save for the occasional comment about your crush on Suguru back in the day. But it’s worse in the private messages. Now that you’re older and wiser he sees no point in holding back. He’s so flirtatious and grotesque and vulgar all at once.

Your conversations with Suguru, however, are a lot more reserved. Your fingers tremble whenever he texts. And the conversation is a lot sparser in comparison to how you talk with Satoru.

He’s sweet and kind, but you wonder if he’s just tolerating you for Satoru’s sake.

Satoru: are u cooking for us?

You: we’re getting takeout 🙄

You smirk at your phone as you continue to read the bombardment of heartbroken messages from Satoru, disappointment from the lack of a home-made meal. You can’t even tell if he’s being serious or kidding. You laugh, nonetheless. Though you’re easily startled when hear your doorbell ring.

As you open the door, you have to will yourself from allowing your jaw to drop. Pocketing your phone as you look up at Suguru. That handsome youthful face ageing into a more mature and chiselled one. It makes your heart skip a beat, but you try to downplay it.

“H-Hey!” you smile. “Nice to see you, it’s been forever.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” he smiles too, walking into your home when you move aside. He follows you to the kitchen, watching your every move as you pour two glasses of wine for yourselves. “I’m glad you got in touch.”

You continue to converse as you lead him to the front room and sit side by side on the couch. Neither of you seem to notice how time flies as you chat and reminisce about the days he used to come over to keep Gojo company while he babysat you.

As if you weren’t old enough to stay home without a sitter. That hardly helped your ability to seem cool for your age. And Satoru didn’t fail to tease you about that either.

“I always thought your little crush on me was sweet.” he laughs. “But I was too old for you, then.”

“I know.” you nod, taking a sip of the red liquid sloshing around your glass. “Do you remember that time Satoru invited two girls over?” you ask, face filling with heat as you recall the embarrassing incident.

“Oh,” he chuckles lightly, like a memory has been unlocked in the back of his head. “You locked yourself in your room and wouldn’t come out all night. Even after we sent them home.”

“I was jealous!” you try to defend yourself. “I was such a lame little pre-teen and then these gorgeous girls with perfect skin and perfect hair came over and you guys were hooking up and I was just… heartbroken!” you clutch your hand to your chest dramatically and begin to laugh as you try and make light of the memory.

He breathes, a soft smile prominent of his face as he thinks about it some more. The girls in question were the pretty, popular, cheerleader types. Everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted Suguru to see you as. And yet, you weren’t even close to achieving that reality. And still, he told them to go. Satoru felt bad for upsetting you, too. So they didn’t hesitate to tell them they had to leave.

“I remember sitting with Satoru outside of your bedroom door the whole time. You didn’t even use the bathroom.”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “I ran to the bathroom after you left. And then I cried to my mom all night about how devastated I was.”

He thinks to himself, putting down his glass of wine on the coffee table before he looks at you. Your body freezes, worried you’ve offended him or creeped him out. A slew of words run rampant in your mind as you try and formulate an apology.

You’re taken aback, however, when he cups your face and slowly tilts his head before kissing you. It’s everything your teenage self had ever dreamed of. You want to drop your own glass to the floor and cup his face in turn as it deepens. But he pulls away, leaving you breathless and longing.

“We’re not kids anymore.” he whispers.

You put down your glass beside his, before lunging in for another kiss. He lets you push him back against the couch, stripping yourself of your sweater so you’re down to just your bra. He smooths his hands over your hips, watching you eagerly as he awaits your next move.

“We’ll have to be quick.” you tell him. “Satoru will be here soon.”

You bend down to make out with him again, keening as he expertly unhooks your bra. His lips latch around your nipple before you’ve even realise he’s tossed your bra halfway across the room. Your hips roll against his clothed bulge, still in a state belief that this is even happening.

“I always wanted you to be my first.” you confess, and he halts his actions momentarily. “But I’m glad… I can fuck you properly instead.”

He allows you to help him out of his own shirt, neither of you capable of keeping your hands off each other for more than a second. Even less than that for your lips. Each sentence is hushed and hurried as you try and navigate this new and exciting development in what was meant to be a casual, friendly, reunion.

“So you’ve got experience now, huh?” he asks, kissing your neck greedily as he thinks about how much you’ve grown in the last decade. “You know how to fuck like a good girl?”

You nod, dumbly, kissing his neck in turn before traversing down his sculpted body. You both freeze, however, when the doorbell rings again. Your eyes widen in horror as you realise all of your clothes are scattered across the front room. There’s no way you can get dressed quick enough. Maybe it would be better to pretend you aren’t home. That you ran out because you forgot something at the store.

“It’s open.” Suguru yells, your heart pounding even faster than it had previously.

Satoru swaggers in as you sheepishly look in his direction with your arms across your chest, doing all you can to preserve your modesty.

“Wow.” he sneers, a teasing lilt in his tone as he looks at you both. Sweaty and dazed, though one of you seems to look less embarrassed than the other. “I knew this would happen.”

“It’s not what it looks—”

“Your tits are in his face and I can see a bruise forming on your neck, sweetheart.” he interjects, getting closer to you both. “I’m not judgin’. Why would I?” he smiles.

You can’t help but feel like you’ve been set up.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, “It’s too much Satoru. I can’t. I can’t. Y-You’ll have to wait your turn!” you protest as he prods at your already occupied cunt. But despite your whining he continues to push himself inside of you, determined to stretch you to your very limit. He shudders at the sight of your pussy swallowing his tip and doing all it can to spit it back out.

He’s been watching on the sidelines, patiently, as Suguru fucks you in the comfort of your own bed. Palming himself as he gets off to the image of his best friend’s cock drilling into your perfect little cunt. He thought he could be patient, but he was sorely mistaken. He’s seen with his own two eyes how well you can ride cock, but he wants to see how well you can handle getting railed.

He pushes you down towards Suguru has his palm splays across your back. You’re soon comforted by the feeling of his lips on yours, though you break away to moan as Satoru inches in further and further. His cock flush against his best friends without a single care, revelling in the sounds of your ragged breath and desperate whimpers.

“I can’t wait, baby. You’re swallowin’ this cock so good. Just take it, yeah?” he tells you, slapping your ass as he starts fucking you slowly.

“You look so pretty full of cock, sweetheart. Does it feel good?” Suguru asks as he plants his feet down onto the mattress and starts to fuck you in tandem.

You nod as a response, yelping as you feel Satoru’s fingers interlace with your hair and yank you up towards him. Your sweat coated back pressed flush against his chest. His free hand holds your hips while he uses your hair to his leverage as his pace becomes brutal. Your pussy oozes and gushes as they each poke and prod and fondle you through their eager assault.

Suguru’s hands wander to pinch and slap your tits, his lip bitten raw as he gets off to the sight of your flesh jiggling and bouncing in all of the right ways.

You squeak, unable to utter a single word or even so much as moan as you begin to squirt from the pleasure. The feeling is enough to have Suguru tumbling over the edge right after you while Satoru wraps his arm around you to play with your clit.

“Again.” he orders, pulling you away from Suguru so that he can kneel in front of your twitching pussy.

The pleasure builds again. Harder, slower, but finally you snap. Your cunt gushes divinely and Suguru savours every last drop. Satoru finishes deep as his balls tighten and he moans pathetically in your ear. But he doesn’t give you or himself a second to relax as he hooks his arms under the bends of your knees, spreading you open wide so that your combined coupling drips out of your hole.

Suguru buries his face in your cunt, slurping up the mess created by the three of you. He sticks his tongue out to show you the lewd combination of your fluids, before looking at Satoru with lust filled eyes. Satoru leans in to kiss him, accepting the tangy tasting mixture into his own mouth before looking down at you.

“Your cunt tastes beautiful, sweetheart.” Suguru tells you as he lightly spanks your clit.

Satoru forces you to look in his direction as he holds your jaw, prompting you to open your mouth wide for him. He kisses you passionately, encouraging you to follow his lead and welcome to lewd fluids onto your own awaiting tongue. You gasp as the taste hits you, but before you can object, he covers your mouth and pinches your nose with one hand.

“Swallow it like a good little girl.” he orders, and you do.

He lets you go after that, though your body just goes limp in his arms. He helps you lie down next to Suguru as he spoons you, and your childhood crush peppers you skin in delicate kisses as you begin to drift off.

“I’m glad I went to see that shitty movie the other day.” Satoru smirks.

@enchantedforest-network

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neoraso · 10 months

Text

bf things with tbz

sfw, gn reader , similar to my subtle skinships but something a little new ♡ hope you enjoy

ｓａｎｇｙｅｏｎ

waking up before you to prepare breakfast and maybe even pack a lunch for your school or work day

drawing bubble baths for you (and if you ask him to join of course he will oblige)

day trips!! always opens the car door for you and makes sure you're buckled up before leaving

buying you gifts especially jewelry and leaving it on your bed while you’re away so you have something sweet to come home to

literally already acts like a husband to you like . once you do get married not much will change,,he worships you

ｊａｃｏｂ

playing his guitar when you can’t sleep

making playlists with songs that remind him of you/your relationship. sometimes he sends them to u and they're called like "for my love"

wants you to be involved with his family and includes you in his calls and facetimes with them

likes driving you to spots and parking just to listen to music and talk with you

very even-keeled and becomes your rock. always there to listen to you talk about your day looking at you with heart eyes the whole time.

ｙｏｕｎｇｈｏｏｎ

always getting you little things when he travels on tour like even if its a little keychain, and writes a little note or card to go with it

regularly talks about your future together like it's obvious you're life partners

literally never argues with you,, even when you disagree he's very sensitive to you and just wants to work things out peacefully with you.

you're his whole world. he adores you, has to let everyone (including you) know as much as possible, reminds you he's a better person because he met you.

will drop everything to make sure you're ok. brings you drinks or food when he can during your day. if you're feeling down he will like - run errands for you, bring you snacks etc

ｈｙｕｎｊａｅ

regularly brings you to his family home bc he knows how much his parents (and darong) love you

sends you pics of the sunset when he’s away at work but thinking about you

frequent hugs with kisses that start from the top of your head until he works his way down to your cheeks

has to be holding your hand,, crossing the street? laces your fingers for safety, sitting down together? grabs your hand and kisses the back of it

likes when you do his hair care and fix it for him the best. closes his eyes and hums when you're putting the product in and massaging his scalp

ｊｕｙｅｏｎ

petting your hair when he’s sat next to you and his arm around you also loves to give you shoulder/neck/head massages to relieve your stress

always keeping an eye out to make sure you’re good in social situations (he may seem aloof but he’s in tune with you!!) ur happiness is his happiness

that being said . sometimes he doesn’t realize when you’re flirting with him he just thinks you’re making conversation T^T but then he catches on and tries to play into it which usually ends up in yall giggling maybe kissing

refuses to let you pay for anything, provides for you happily

so patient with you, always listening attentively with eye contact and appropriate responses <3 an angel

ｋｅｖｉｎ

always trying to make you laugh whether it be twerking, sending you tiktoks he thinks you’ll like

baking and cooking for you ! his lucky taste tester,, literally doesn’t care if you just sit there and watch him but would love if you joined him!!

loves that you have a good relationship with stella lowk gets jealous when she texts you with news before him

brags about you to anyone that will listen "they're so funny and cool and great and smart,, i'm so lucky"

makes up little songs to narrate what you're doing even if it's like. the dishes -_-

ｃｈａｎｈｅｅ

couple fashion yes yes ! obsessed with taking ootd pics with you

expect his whole camera roll to be you and his favorites are all the ones of you together

always attentive to you whether it be getting something off your clothes, getting you water, reminding you to rest and offering his shoulder when he notices you're tired, moving your necklace clasp to the back, etc

lowkey gets nervous around you like NOT THAT HE'S NOT COMFORTABLE but if you give him too much eye contact he starts blushing and laughing

always leaning on you, head on your shoulder, hanging on you holding your hand/arm. JUST loves u sm and wants to be close to you it's sweet.

ｃｈａｎｇｍｉｎ

wants to “do your hair” and ends up knotting it up (he’ll brush it out though)

gives you really weird hypothetical situations bc he knows you'll actually put thought into your answers <3

he's a silly guy but he likes his chill time and loves it more when you're with him. sometimes he'll bring you home and you take ghana on walks together,, or he just wants to watch a movie with your feet propped across his lap yktv

whenever you're out together at a cafe or restaurant he always lets you taste his order before him and lets you have as much as you want if you like it

will bite you. you'll just be laying together and he bites whatever part is closest NOT even hard enough to leave marks like juyeon but just enough where he can express his ,,,, cute aggression

ｈａｋｎｙｅｏｎ

shares his love through food with you

has a specific time slot for you in his week set aside for just spending time together whether he's taking you out or spending a night with snacks and a movie :>

loves when he can get you up early to watch the sunrise together (always brings coffee/tea and a pastry for you)

your biggest cheerleader. literally texts you with a message every morning encouraging you for the day

comes home singing loudly to announce his presence. you're the first thing he looks for when he walks through the door and has to give you an ENGULFING hug and at least 3 kisses on your face to prove how much he missed you

ｓｕｎｗｏｏ

saying you’re “too far” when there’s more than 5cm between you

if he's sitting across from you he holds your hand(s) INSIDE his sleeves

low-hanging fruit but he absolutely has a folder FULL of songs about you

loves nights where he's just laying in between your legs or when he's holding you,, either way just wants you close, doting on you all night

pretends to be too cool for being your sweet angel baby sugarplum fairy but when you pull away from showering him in affection he goes "why did you stop -_-"

ｅｒｉｃ

has a picture of you as his lockscreen and his wallpaper, in his wallet, on his mirror, a framed one on his dresser, etc. etc.

if you're watching a movie and an attractive person comes on, he covers your eyes with his hands and says you should only be looking at him bc he thinks he's sooooo funny

always buys you a mango juice or whatever drink you like when he gets his from the convenience store

wants to include you in everything he does as much as possible whether it be going out with his friends, all his days off, his early morning walks

needs his face as close to yours as possible; kissing your cheeks/eyelids/nose biting your ear, etc etc

do not repost or rework/copy any of my posts here or on other sites

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we-out-here-simping · 7 months

Text

You, Me, Lonely.

(s.h. x reader)

from the river to the sea (educate yourself and help however you can)

Summary: you love Steve, Steve loves you. But maybe you both want different things from life.

Warnings/tags: reader menstruates (reader has uterus), abandonment issues, the ‘six nuggets’ talk, suggestive

Word count: 3.4k

masterlist

a/n: huge huge huge thanks to @procrastinationprincesses for helping me out with this fic and giving it an ending (ur amazing sanjana <3)

writing and posting something because i might have to go MIA for a lil bit (miss me while I'm gone will ya?)

fic is inspired by ‘You, Me, Lonely’ by FIZZ i absolutely love this song like its so close to my heart ughh what can i say I'm a little bitter about the six nuggets scene

also if you couldn't tell already I have major abandonment issues and an anxious avoidant attachment style. It will reflect in what i write soz :(

In the quiet of the night, you wish for this to last forever. That you'll have him forever.

When you came out of the shower you found him asleep on his side of the bed. His side– the one closer to the door. ‘so I can protect you from anyone who'll try to steal you from me’, he had justified it when you asked him why he was adamant on that side.

you had turned off the bedside lamp ten minutes ago, slipped under the duvet, as quietly as possible so as to not wake him up. on your side of his bed. your bed.

He always sleeps on his stomach, one hand under his pillow and the other extended a little towards yours. His body moves with steady and slow breaths, back rising and falling under the covers, head peeking out from under the rumpled up duvet. his cheeks are squished against the pillow cover. His hair is a mess from the lack of hair product, and still damp from the shower he took before you. There's a few strands of his brown hair sprawled across his forehead too. With your softest touch you brush them away from his eyes.

You wonder what he was dreaming. you hope it was something nice. He looks calm, at peace, and very, very pretty.

You look at him and you know you love him. You want to love him forever.

Love had never seemed like the type of thing you’ll get– like it wasn't meant for you. But then you met him. This boy. This boy who you never thought to be your type. You never thought you even had a type. But his boyish charm and stupid grin won you over.

Your heart doesn't skip beats around him anymore, and you’d think that that means he doesn’t have that same effect on you anymore but that would be wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever loved anyone as much as you do to him. You don’t look at him and get butterflies in your stomach, you look at him and… you’re sure. your heart is quiet and sure. You don't think you’ve ever been sure before.

You want to be sure forever.

He feels like the comfortable still of rain after a scorching hot summer, like the calm and cold breeze that cools you down. Like standing at the top of the mountain, looking at the clouds and valleys below, he feels like the crisp air that fills your lungs. Like the comfort meal your mom makes– the one you can never really recreate, the one that tastes the best when it comes from her.

You love him and you know. You know. You know he likes you, loves you even.

Steve Harrington loves you like a dream, and you're worried that one day he’ll wake up, look at you and realise that he deserves so much better. He’ll wake up and he’ll leave for work and he’ll bump into a pretty angel of a girl with a disposition as bright as his. And he’ll never return. people fall out of love. People fall out of love all the time.

You wish for him to love you forever.

How long is a forever anyway?

You wonder what it'll be like. When you're older, with wrinkles, white hair and weaker limbs.

It's like you see it.

You and him in a bed– just like now but older, wiser, more tired. His back turned to you. There'd be distance between you two, you’d want to move closer and hold him– but you wouldn't. You’d just stare at the back of his head, counting all the grey hairs you’d memorised like all the moles and wrinkles on his skin.

You’d notice his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest and you would have known him so long and so well that you'd just know that he wasn't actually asleep. you'd know why he wasn't asleep.

there'd be a pain in your chest. You would know what it is, why its there. You would gulp and try not to think about it.

“Do you always stare at me in my sleep?” his groggy voice pulls you out of your own head.

You blink, multiple times. Forever, right.

He softly smiles up at you. You blink away before moving to lay on your back, the sheets rustling with your movement. “sorry I woke you up”, you mumble an apology, staring at the ceiling, you fail to hide the shake in your voice.

“Y’kay?”

“Yeah.” the sheets beside you ruffle but you keep your eyes trained on the ceiling. it seems inevitable. You know, one day it'll happen and despite having expected it, it’ll be the greatest heartbreak of them all.

“Thinking ‘bout somethin’?” he sounds a bit more awake.

“When am I not?” you shake your head and laugh hoping he doesn't notice that it isn't real, thankful that the curtains didn't let in any moonlight and that you had turned off the lights.

“What is it?” but this is Steve, he doesn’t need to see you to know how you’re feeling.

“Nothing.”

“Were you lying about liking the pasta I made?”

“No, Steve it was good”, a real laugh slips out of you, and you finally look at him. He’s leaning on his elbow, the messy head of hair in his hand, looking down at you. You suddenly wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see the colour of his eyes, the moles and freckles on his skin.

“Then what?”

“Nothing.” your gaze moves back to the ceiling.

“Must be something if it's keeping you up”, you feel him shift closer to you. He smells of fresh shower, mint, shaving cream and washed laundry.

“No, I'm just…. not sleepy.”

“Yeah?”, he raises his eyebrows with a sly smirk, “Well, I know a way to make you sleepy”, he leans down– both arms caging you in, landing a kiss on your neck before trailing further up to your lips. and its lovely, so god damn lovely, you don't want it to stop but this hurts.

“Ste– mmph– Steve stop”, you turn your face away, because if he keeps going, you think you'll cry, palm pushing flat against his bare chest, “I’m– I'm not in the mood.”

“Okay, I'm sorry”, he moves back onto his one elbow. The silence gestates for a while, you can feel his eyes on you. The ticking of the clock is the only thing heard through the room before he softly says, “Hey, please tell me what's happening?”

“Nothing”, you shook your head, “I’m just tired.”

“You just said you're not sleepy.”

“J– just go back to sleep okay? sorry for waking you up”, you turn onto your side, face away from him.

He sidles up behind you after a second or two, warm breath across the back of your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut. “yeah, like that's gonna put me to sleep", he mutters behind you.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you in closer, “C'mon, you know I wont be able to sleep after fighting”, burying his nose in your hair– he sighed.

“Did you just sniff my hair?”

“Yeah, I do all the time. smells s’good."

"You pervert", you both laugh lightly at that, your hand going for his around your waist, before your smiles fall and silence takes over once again.

You lick your drying lips, you forgot to put on lip balm again, “We’re not fighting, Steve.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You take in a deep breath in, fingers drawing patterns on the back of his hand, you breath out, “m’sorry.”

His arms squeeze tighter around you, he lets out a quick sigh before placing a kiss on your shoulder, “I’ll forgive you if you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Steve…”, your voice trails off, you're not even sure what you were going to say.

“Is it— Is it your…. Uh, that time of the month?”

That makes you want to roll your eyes at him and smack his chest but you restrain yourself, you’re not sure if you want him to see your eyes right now anyway. Instead, you sigh, “I had it last week, Steve.”

You got it in this very same bed. Awoken by cramps in the middle of the night. and Steve, your lovely Steve had given you a hot water bag while he took off the sheets and put on fresh new ones and then gave you a soft massage that put you to sleep.

“right... yeah, sorry," he says all sheepish, “So what is it then? Did someone say somethin’ at work?”

“No.”

“Did I.. " he hesitated a little, "did I say something?”

“...no”, you curse yourself for pausing before saying it.

“I did, didn't I?”

“No, no. you–”

“honey, you should tell me if I ever say stupid shit– you should call me out immediately–”

“You didn't say anything stupid or whatever. I'm the one who's being stupid.”

his hold on you loosened, he shifted back to give you space to turn around, “What did I say? Hey, look at me,” you finally turn in his hold, facing him “what did I say?”

“We’d have the cutest little kids, won't we?”

“..what?” You stood infront of the kitchen sink. your hands stopped their scrubbing at the pot you were washing. You tilted your head towards him who had his head rested on your shoulder, his arms around your waist.

“Little Harringtons”, you could hear the smile on his lips.

“Harringtons?”

“Or maybe we get our names hyphenated. That works too, it’d be cute”, his hands hold your waist, his duty of drying the plates abandoned. “They’d have my fabulous hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes– cutest kids around the block”

“Our kids?” you repeated dumbly.

“Yeah, and six of ‘em. six little nuggets. They’ll make up half of a football team”, he giggled, warm air hitting the side of your face, “Doesn’t that sound lovely?” he smiled at you.

“...yeah. Yeah, it does.” you smiled back at him which only made him grin wider. His arms tighten around you again, and lips start a trail from behind your ears to down your neck.

You scoffed softly "You’re supposed to help me wash dishes you filthy animal."

“Oh, fine,” he gave you an over dramatic sigh, before his hands left your sides, skin feeling lonely as ever.

“No, it's fine. I’m almost done anyway", you went back to scrubbing at the bottom of the pot, "Just go and take a shower, you reek.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go!” he groaned, playfully as a kid, before he leaned against the counter, looking at you with his ‘Harrington charm’. His voice is silky when he asks, “Will you join me?”

“Steve." you said it almost as a warning.

“I don’t hear a no.”

“Okay then, no.”

“Tomorrow morning…?”

“I have an early shift tomorrow, you horndog.”

“We'll make it work.”

“No.”

“Okay", he sighs, “come up quickly though, I wanna be the big spoon today”, pecking your cheek before leaving for the shower upstairs.

Looking at him, you brush the now mostly dry hair falling on his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Your fingers lingered there, you smile, “nothing, Steve.” your thumb rubs back and forth on the apple of his cheeks. “You didn’t say anything. it's stupid.”

His hand reaches up to hold your fingers in place, he turns his head a little to kiss your knuckles, “okay, I didn't say anything” he kisses your knuckles again, gaze stuck to your face, “but could you tell me what it is you think you’re being stupid about?”

God, I love him, you think. “Don't worry about it”, your voice barely a whisper as you attempt to give him a smile. You move closer, planting a slow kiss on his lips which are so much softer than yours– he never forgets his chapstick.

And god, you needed this, your brain stops when you kiss him. thoughts quelled and its quiet again. After some time though, your throat starts to burn and your chest is on the verge of a sob. So, when you pull away, you fail to hide the stuttered breath that you take in.

Steve knew there was something to worry about, but when he hears your breath that almost sounds like a sob, he’s immediately on high alert. Before he can brush your hair out of your face to look at you, really look at you, you bury your face in his chest.

It takes him a second to realize that you’re crying and it breaks his heart because you’re trying to hide it.

“Baby..” he feels you curl in further, your face warm against his skin. He moves to pull you in closer, palm holding the back of your head. He just wanted to take away whatever it was that was bothering you. He tried to pull away to get a look at your face to help you calm down but you wouldn't let him. He settles on carding his fingers through your hair, rubbing circles on the little sliver of exposed skin between your t-shirt and shorts, hoping it gives you some sort of comfort.

"Honey", it is then that you finally let in a shaky breath. he feels the skin where you hid your face get wet maybe with tears, sweat, snot, he didn't care-- he just wanted to take all your pain away.

You both stay that way, and you're suprised by how much you sob, how hard you heave. You weren't sure how long you stayed that way, maybe minutes, maybe hours, however long. It feels like forever.

At this moment, encased in Steve's arms, breath hot against his skin, despite the nose plugged with snot, lashes clumped with tears, eyes squinted shut, you think this is comfortable. Yet it hurts. Because you'll have to pull away. It hurts so damn much because you know how this can go, you know it can hurt so, so much more. You know it will hurt.

You want this to last forever, however fucking long one of those is.

So, you hold on longer because, you’re selfish with your love for Steve. You're selfish because despite the heartache, you’ll have him, for as long as you can.

His hold on you gentle yet firm, as if afraid he'd break you. In your head, he already had. He tries to pull away again, to look at you but you can't. Your eyes still squinted close, willing it all to be a stupid dream. “Honey, I promise you whatever it is, you can tell me”, he says, voice soft as feather. Of course it's not a dream.

Your tongue betrays you, “Its…s–” stupid. Silly. It really doesn't feel stupid or silly, but god, you're so scared that you can't say it, you didn't want to say it because if you do it’ll come true, wont it?

“Whatever it is that you think is stupid," he assured you as if he could read your mind, "I still want to hear it because I know I won't think it's stupid."

suddenly it burns, and you need air. you sit up and try not to think about how ridiculously not pretty you probably look with snot running down your face, “What if- what if we- we end up hating each other?” you manage to say through hiccups.

“What?” he sits up as well, he says as if you had said the most ridiculous thing, “I'll never hate you, honey.”

For some reason, tears fill your eyes again at that, “Steve, you don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No. Ste– people fall out of love, Steve- all the- all the time.” It terrifies him how convinced you sound of it.

“Do..... do you think you’ll fall out of love with me?”

The question startles you, its evident in your wide eyes, “Wha– what?”

“Do you think… you’ll fall out of love with me?" he repeats, "You think you’ll hate me?”

You shake your head, the tear that had been sitting on your lower lash finally slides down your already tear-stained cheek.

“Good." he wipes the wet trails left behind with his thumb, "then, why would I hate you?”

Your face twists into an expression that Steve wasn't sure what to describe it as. a deep frown on your lips, chin wobbly, brows scrunched up together, eyes red and tired yet nostrils flared. “‘Cause", you start but before you could continue another sob leaves you. you look down at your lap, trying to catch your breath. it takes you a minute before you begin again, "do you remember.... what you said about our kids?”

He nods, heart clenching at the way your voice breaks, “I don't think I can… do that”, he doesn't think he's ever heard you sound so broken. “I– I don't think if I– if I want that.”

He sits silent and you think this is it. maybe forevers aren't that long after all.

More tears fall, more sobs leave you, you don't bother to wipe them. What's it matter anyway? He hates you already. He's probably thinking of a way to let you down easily because he is kind like that “Honey.. I want a family..” you feel your heart ripping in two and you just can't look at him.

“And I want you to be a part of that family. I– I want you to be the person I built a family with, no matter the size." He wipes at both your cheeks again, making you look at him, "even if its just us.”

The relieved smile he expected from you isn't there, instead, you frown, the crease between your brows deepens. the part that hurt the most was that you push his hands away, “you’re saying that now, but what happens when years down the line, when we’re old, you– you end up resenting me. Y- you love me right now, I know. But how do you know you wont end up hating me like, ten years later?”

“I dont want to watch you grow old and hate me and then leave me, Steve. I’d rather end this now if we’re destined to just end up unhappy together.”

“We’re not. Okay? We’re not. I know I wont hate you, ever.” He reaches for your hands again. He kisses your fingers before continuing, “And I know that I want you, just you and whatever that– that that comes with. We could never have kids and I would never hate you for it.”

“You won't be happy", you say meekly, like he'd be mad at you for speaking what was on your mind to him, “You wont hate me but you wont be happy either”, you muttered, chin ducked into your chest.

“Honey”, he hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head to make you look at him, to make you understand. “you’re what I need to be happy. You make me happy. And.. I’d hope you need me to be happy too”, a wet chuckle escapes you at that. A hint of a smile on your face despite the tears.

“You do, don’t you?” he clarified with a soft smile of himself.

You nod, "yeah", letting out a loud sniffle.

“Good. I know its scary but you’ve gotta put your trust in me. Trust me enough to believe in me when I say that you are what makes me happy. and I am happy."

He wipes away gently at your face, ridding it of the tear stains, “Sometimes, you’ve just gotta trust. I promise I’ll never break it.”

You sob again but it's lighter than before, you wrap your arms around his neck and feel the weight you felt get lifted, you sniffle into the crook of his neck, "thank you."

You feel his lips on your hairline, "Let's go back to sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah. You still wanna be the big spoon?"

"yeah, I think you need to be the little spoon today." he pulls you down with him, your back to his chest, kissing the skin behind your ear he finally settles in beside you.

You call out his name, he hums in response. "how long do you think a forever is?"

"I don't know, honey."

"Can we stay like this forever?"

"Um.. if you mean us staying forever then yes, definitely forever. But, if you meant me being the big spoon forever, baby, I'm not sure if I'll be able to commit to that."

You laugh, "I love you." you confess.

"I love you too."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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kyutushi · 8 months

Text

GN!READER X ALASTOR HCS

a/n; it’s been a while since i’ve last written hcs for anything so i hope these will suffice !! LOL

ENJOY!!

— he’s definitely a gentleman! opens doors for you and helps you with anything you need, just call for him and he’ll be there instantly!

— finds himself staring at you time to time just wondering how he was even able to pull you

— there’s an area in the parlor somewhere with a piano, you often organize things in there so he’ll play piano for you while u work <3 ; yt link for song

— you’re not in a contract with him he could never do that to u

— whether you’re also an overlord or just a regular demon he has you by his side during meetings, whispering gossip to you bc let’s be real he def has some shit to say abt the others

— sleeping next to him is the best, the quiet radio static when he’s sleeping is the most comforting thing ever

— “y/n, love! you look as ravishing as ever” he would say even if you just woke up lookin like shit

— angel dust n husk def ur besties bc HELLO they are the best (he is confused with your friend choice.)

— secretly tries to keep charlie away from you.. he really doesn’t want you to leave him for heaven. he wouldn’t know what to do without you by his side.

— only lets u see his tail; you and angel dust were in a giggling fit in his bedroom while talking sweet gossip about others. angel always has something to say about ANYONE, how does he know this stuff? no idea but TEA IS TEA. “HA, ya know toots when valentino talks every now and then he squeaks like a moth! it takes so much to not burst out laughing on set” he giggled and covered his mouth. “oh my god, don’t tell ANYONE i told you this but..” angel leaned in slightly to hear you better, “alastor actually does have a tail… he tucks it away and gets so embarrassed about it!” you quietly snickered as angel tried not to laugh. suddenly he tenses up and looks behind you, pointing at the dark figure behind you.

“hmmm, what was that love? care to speak up a bit? i couldn’t quiet hear what you had to say to your friend here!” upon hearing this all so familiar threatening cheery voice

you sweat dropped, “oh it was nothing dearest please— why don’t we talk in the parlor!” you forced a suspicious smile to which he squinted at you. “hmm alright then!” he drops his watchful stare and hooks his arm with yours, ushering to the parlor.

he sits you down on the sofa and sits beside you, you rest your head against his chest. “your heart is racing darling, why would this be?” he smirked. you bite your lip anxiously before speaking up, looking up to him. “i mayyy have said something secret to angel… it was harmless i swear dear!” he finger found its way to your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly up so he can look into your eyes. “if you were anyone else i’d have you murdered on the spot, but i could never harm you love! consider this a punishment!” — “consider wha—“ he presses a sweet short kiss to your lips, suddenly pulling away and walking away with a small smirk. you sat there in total shock as that was the last thing to expect.

long story short; that was the only kiss for the day (of course you had to beg him for at least one more goodnight kiss, and of course he eventually gave in. how could he say no to his darling?)

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor hcs #hazbin hcs

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jakesangel · 3 months

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jake and reader who sh ꣑୧ - requested

tw//mention of sh, jake is healing n comforting reader

it doesn't go unnoticed how you always hide yourself under your clothes to jake, wearing long sleeves, no short even inside the house. he never asked you why nor why you didn't want to take showers w him or going to the beach, tho he wishes you trust him n tell him why. he understood when, one day, he saw your scars as your sleeve ride up a bit as you pass him the tv remote, but even then he didn't say anything. in fact he even forgot why he wanted the remote, only thinking about you n your problems. for the next few days, he wouldn't stop thinking about it, on why you aren't trusting him or what is going on that he doesn't know off.

few days later, he would come over unnoticed wanting to surprise you, and keeping an eye on you, but to his surprise your place was dark n silent. he wouldnt call you, thinking your asleep. so after he removes his outside clothes n his shoes, he'd go straight to your room, without making any noises, wanting to cuddle you n protecing you in your sleep. as jake opens the door, he almost burst out a yell, panick filling his body, seeing you unfazed state on your bed. tho he doesn't know what to do, he'd quickly compose himself to not make it harder to you. he would let shaky breath as he walk towards you, his eyes set on your frame whereas your eyes,full of tears stays on the ceiling avoiding his reaction. you've tried very hard to protect jake from all your problem, yet he is here n you can't bring yourself to move. y/n ? he called suprinsingly softly, i'm gonna take this away okay ?, taking the vile object off of your bed. he would then kneel next to your bed, please look at me, love, n give you a pained smile, tears building, as you turn your head to his side. come on let's get you cleaned up, as he puts his hands behind your shoulder, helping you to get up.

he would help you, water running where it is red, flinching along side w you when it hurts to munch. he will be the one drying you n disinfect everything. n it's only then he would break the tense silence, does it hurt ?, he'd softly ask as he puts some bandage on your arm. he'd nod at your answer, still not knowing how to handle this very serious situation but he would do what he knows the best : to hug you, to engulf you n protect you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world which you are to him. if you stay silent, he will pull you in a hug, keeping you close, wanting nothinf else to hurt you. but if you thank him he would also comfort you w words my angel, i hope you know how munch i love you n how much i wishes you know you can trust me. i know when things gets hard we can't help but go back to what's the easiest way to cope, even if it's bad for us and even if we promised to not do it again. that's just how we are. and i will not force you to stop nor talk about it but please, baby, can you promise me to fight the urges ? you dont have to tell me when you want to do it but can you come to me first ? im sorry if i made you feel like i wont always be there for you but i am. is it alright for me to ask you that ? can you promise ? please ?

notes : hai anon here is ur request ᵎ i hope i wrote it well tho i'm not close to such topic. i hope you are alright n please come to me if needed <3

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee

#enhablr #jake fluff #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #kpop fluff #sim jake fluff #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jake #jake soft hours #sim jaeyun #jake sim #jaeyun fluff #jake x y/n #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake headcanons #enhypen jake fluff #jake sim x y/n

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garoujo · 2 years

Note

i loves you <33

i lub u so v vvvv much (ᐡ⸝⸝ᴗ ̫ ᴗ⸝⸝ᐡ) <3

#୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ moot mail #ֹ ۪ ఇ : [audri]#AN ANGEL ! IN MY ASKS ! WOW IM SO LUCKY <3 #hope ur having the best day my love !!! oh i hope ur exam went well ^_^

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stevebabey · 2 years

Text

somewhere only we know

a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]

It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.

Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.

You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.

You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.

It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.

And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.

And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.

Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.

You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.

You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.

It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.

When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.

One week becomes two.

You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.

“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.

Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.

It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.

Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.

He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.

He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.

For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.

The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.

“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.

“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“

A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”

“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.

If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.

“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.

“I love you too.”

It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.

Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.

Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?

By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.

It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.

By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.

The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.

Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.

It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.

The phonecall.

Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.

He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.

Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.

It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.

It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too.

If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.

Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.

A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.

But sleep had to come first.

—

You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.

After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.

It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.

It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.

He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.

That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.

You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.

It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.

His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.

“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”

The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond.

“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.

It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”

“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”

“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.

The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.

It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.

“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.

Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.

And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.

“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“

Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.

They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.

“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.

“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”

He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.

How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.

“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”

“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.

Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.

—

Your head is a storm.

Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.

The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.

You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.

You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.

It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.

What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.

Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.

You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.

A murmur of your name.

The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here.

Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.

“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.

It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.

“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?

You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.

“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.

“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“

“Are we okay?”

You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.

Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.

You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets.

He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.

Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name.

You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.

If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.

It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.

He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”

He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.

“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.

Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.

“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”

If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.

Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.

“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”

Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.

His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.

Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.

At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.

When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.

You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.

It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.

It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.

“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.

Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.

The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.

“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.

Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.

He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”

Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.

It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.

The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.

Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.

You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.

His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.

Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.

“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.

It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.

“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.

Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“

He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.

“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”

Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.

“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”

Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.

“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.

Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.

It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.

His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @televisionboy

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pinkaditty · 1 year

Note

Hi, hi!

I loved your perverted obey me brothers and you catching them with your underwear. Will you make a part 2 with the other dateables?

If not, no worries!!

I love your work and I hope you have a nice day!

anon. did u know that ur my first ask? did u know that anon? ily. i've been thinking abt this ask since i saw i first got it. i never knew getting an ask could be so euphoric.

anyways

Pervert (Obey Me: Shall We Date) Part 2!

summary: you are suspecting that someone is stealing your underwear. it will go missing and randomly reappear like it was never gone. you pretend not to notice, but set a little trap for the culprit… and catch them red handed.

a/n: folks. wow. i did not expect part 1 to be soso popular omg!! ily guys thanks so much for enjoying my stuff waaaah! sorry this second part took so fucking long man so much shit happened. like sooo much im so tired. anyways. here. this part includes the royals, angel, and human. ill be back with the others (thirteen, mephisto, and raphael) soon! they may be slightly ooc bc im unfamiliar with them but ill do my best! also im like literally praying that the characters i wrote here aren't ooc. I tried SO hard please lmk if they are. <;/3

content warning: as usual fem!mc unless you like to imagine yours as a crossdresser (mc's physical attributes are not mentioned but fem undergarments are), and suggestive nsfw content! lmk if there's anything i missed :(

read part 1 here!

AS USUAL MINORS DNI PLEASE! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY! THANK YOU!

Intro:

For a short while, you had been reassigned to stay at Purgatory Hall/The Demon Lord’s Castle/wherever else the Dateables are due to Satan having accidentally destroyed your section of the House of Lamentation. No big deal, but all of the brothers were less than happy to see you go. It’s okay, though. You’ll be fine among the others…

The story is the same, of course. You think someone has been nicking your intimates in their spare time. Which is, of course, strange but simultaneously exciting.

You decide to set a trap to find out who they are, leaving your hamper full of clothes in the washroom before leaving to grab some scent beads. When you return, as expected, you can hear someone rifling through your intimates, but it’s not rushed. Rather, it’s calm and calculated, as though said person was desperate to not be heard. You decide to wait outside the door for them. Once they collect the spoils of their work, they quietly slip through the door, only to find you leaning against the wall outside, looking at them expectantly. Your arms are crossed and you’re tapping your fingers on your arm. You raise an eyebrow at them, stifling the urge to cackle at their panicked expression.

“Explain yourself, pervert.”

Diavolo:

You know, simultaneously, you expected him and didn’t expect him at all - at the same time. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Dia was fascinated with humans, especially with you, but… To such lengths? Really? If only Barbatos could see him now.

For a man that loves to talk… He sure is speechless now.

He’s frozen. The panicked expression remains on his face, his eyes flickering from the surrounding hallways and walls to you, to the floor, and back to the hallways. If there was a way out, he couldn’t find it. Before long, he deflated, resigning to looking down, a pitiful pout on his face. You got the feeling it was partially for show, though.

He whimpered like a hurt puppy before muttering a very formal apology. Keeping his head down, he held out the panties towards you. As you watch him, you realize this man has probably rarely ever felt shame before. It's almost entertaining - watching his eyes spin as he tries to adjust to feeling this way. Though he tries to hide it, you can hear his heaving breaths from here. He was ashamed. You could tell he wasn't ashamed for his actions; rather, he was ashamed because he was caught.

The thought makes you want to laugh, and you do, snatching the panties from his waiting hand. He looks up as you laugh, confused, his lips in a soft pout. His eyes almost look teary, as though he's that sad that you're laughing at him. You stifle your laughter with a hand and wave it off, walking past him into the laundry room to put your panties back in the hamper. Once your laughter dies out, you don't face him, but you do speak to him, knowing he is listening.

"Dia, the next time you find yourself fascinated with me, you can just ask. I'll be happy to spare a worn pair for your sake."

You hear a surprised gasp, a shuffling of feet, and a relieved exhale. You turn to him, finally, to see him bowing his head in thanks. He's biting his lip and his face is bright red. Probably too embarrassed to make eye contact. He covers his mouth with his hand, muffling his words before speaking.

"Thank you, MC, for letting this slide… And please, don't tell Barbatos…" His face burns red at his final words, and you smile, amused.

"Don't worry, I won't tell." You wink at him before returning to your laundry, hearing his hesitant steps as he walked away.

Barbatos:

He's frozen. Mortified. He stands there, rooted to the spot like a statue of stone. He stammers out your name in surprise, nervously shifting his gaze from you to your surroundings. He clears his throat, holding a hand up to his lips, and keeps it there, as though attempting to hide his growing blush. "I-I deeply apologize, MC. I should not have been here… You were not meant to see me… " He sounds out of breath, his words light and mumbled.

He turns away from you at an angle, shutting his eyes tight and keeping his hand in front of his face. You watch him take deep breaths and attempt to steady himself and regain his composure. You had to admit, watching him fumble through such an embarrassment was awfully entertaining. His chest visibly rose and fell with each audible breath. He gently teetered on his feet, as though he could fall over if he couldn't keep up. What a sight to behold, Barbatos at a loss for words and composure.

You approach him quietly, walking slowly to prevent the click of your shoes from being heard. You know that while he can't hear you, he can feel you, and he knows you're close. He shuffles backwards shyly, attempting to replace the distance you remove with every step. Ultimately, however, he is too slow, and you manage to get close enough to him, cornering him against a wall inside the laundry room. You make no effort to cage him in, but simply watch as he continues to attempt to get ahold of himself. He swallows thickly and slowly opens his eyes, calming down. He lowers his hand back to his side, and looks at you levelly, his expression still embarrassed but not mortified any longer. You smile, raising an eyebrow.

"I'd like my panties now, thanks." You hold out a hand expectantly, and Barbatos obliges, pulling the panties from his coat pocket and placing them in your waiting hand, all signs of embarrassment gone from his face, replaced by his trademark smile instead. His ears however, were a dead giveaway, as the tips of them remained red. You simply chuckle and lean away from him, humming in thanks and placing them back into the hamper. He moves to assist you with your clothes, and does so efficiently, though you watch him carefully to ensure his nimble fingers don’t grab hold of anything else without your permission. When the task is finished, he bows respectfully.

“Is there anything else I can assist you with, MC?”

You shake your head, smiling. “No, but thank you, Barbatos.”

With that done, his ears still burning red and his smile faltering slightly, he moves to leave. You stop him, grabbing his arm as he passes you. He looks back at you curiously, embarrassment still painted on his face. “And, please, ask me next time.” You smile, your eyes filling with mirth. “I’d be happy to give you a pair later as thanks for your assistance.”

He swallows thickly and his eyes widen. He bites his lip before nodding, thanking you briskly, and walking away hurriedly, his face red.

You think you see a flash of lace in his back pocket as he leaves, but maybe you’re imagining it...

Simeon:

Now, this was a surprise. The angel? Really?

He yelps in surprise, fumbling with the panties and dropping them on the ground, hiding his face in his hands and backing into a wall. He’s visibly shaking, his hands trembling as he hides behind them, not even peeking out to observe your reaction. His knees wobbled and he began to shrink in on himself, eventually kneeling on the floor. You watch him wordlessly, amused. He’s unexpectedly quite dramatic.

After a few moments, you hear him mumbling to himself. Confused, you tentatively approach him, listening carefully. You catch little bits of what he’s saying before kneeling down, to which he shrinks further and his mumbling speed increases. Then it hits you. He’s… praying.

He’s literally fucking praying.

You are so thoroughly amused at this that you want to laugh, but you wonder if being a victim of the wrath of Simeon or the almighty was worth it, so you decide against it. You stifle and disguise your laugh as clearing your throat, doing a comically loud “Ahem” to get Simeon’s attention.

Not one to be disobedient, he stops his muttering and slowly lifts his head to look at you. You smile smugly at him, your eyes narrowing with mirth. You reach out towards him and gently touch his chin. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away, looking between your fingers and your face curiously. You hold his chin and lift it upwards, and he follows your movements, adjusting himself so it’s easier to peer upwards at you. You smile wider, even more amused than before.

“I don’t think that’ll work down here, Simeon.” Your voice is low and taunting, and Simeon gulps, his eyes still not leaving yours. He still doesn’t say anything, merely trembles, as though he were being judged.

Maybe he was, a little bit, but favorably so. It’s not everyday you’d find an angel ballsy enough to do this, right?

You tut at him, clicking your tongue and shaking your head disapprovingly. “Oh, Simeon…” You put on a fake pout, looking at him with pity in your eyes. “Don’t you know better than to do this?”

“Ugh…” Simeon bites his lip. His eyebrows furrow and his mouth creases downwards into a pathetic expression. You continued to stifle your laughter by biting the inside of your cheek. However, you are ultimately unsuccessful and end up bursting into an amused smile and a few breathy chuckles at him.

When your laughter dies down, you look at him, still holding his chin. “Come now, Simeon.” You smile, winking at him. “All you have to do is ask… If you‘d like another pair.”

Simeon sucks in a breath in shock, and his eyes widen as he looks at you. He suddenly scrambles to his feet, straightening up, his head still bent forward in embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry, MC! It won’t happen again!” He swiftly walks past you, not looking at you and barely opening his eyes enough to see, narrowly missing the wall in his rush to leave. You listen to his retreating footsteps and only laugh. Maybe you’d drop by his room later and give him a gift.

Solomon:

Shameless. But he’s old and barely human. He’s also the worst.

He doesn’t react much besides his initial panicked reaction, which soon melts into mirth, a smug smile appearing on his face. He’s confident, but not that confident. His exaggerated smug smile twitches at the corners and his face remains flushed a deep red. He dramatically clears his throat and smiles coyly, the picture of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Ah…” He starts, shrugging his shoulders, still smiling, the corners of his lips still twitching. His voice shakes just slightly. “You got me!”

Your face can’t seem to decide if it wants to fall into a disappointed expression at his brazen admission or burst into a fit of laughter at his obvious fear. Instead, it seems to settle on a pitying smirk, and you have to stop it from turning into a full on grin. You sigh and shake your head, not super surprised.

You approach him, and he visibly stiffens, but his arrogance forces him to stay in place, his confidence crumbling at your certainty. When you stand just in front of him, you hold out your hand, a smug look on your face. “I’ve got you indeed! Hand them over.” Your words are quick and terse, smug smile and knowing look still on your face. Solomon swallows, and looks to the side, gently dropping the panties into your hands. He makes no move to look at you again after that, still facing you but looking away.

You scoff as you watch him simply stand there. You find it amusing, but you are also dissatisfied at his lack of retorts. You put your hands on your hips and smirk, attempting to provoke him. “Hm. I’d expect a panty thief to be more ballsy. What, cat got your tongue?” Your smug smile only grows and your eyes narrow with mirth. His confidence almost seems to fully crumble under your gaze, and he relents, his blush spreading all across his face. Yet still, he remains silent.

You approach further, your steps slow and deliberately intimidating. He’s rooted to the spot, unable to move, still frantically finding anything to gaze at instead of you. Eventually you stand mere centimeters from him, your body just barely touching his. You smirk at him and lean your head forward, blowing on him before pulling back. He flinches immediately, startled, and bumps into the wall behind him. You giggle at him, thoroughly amused at his frantic nerves. He looks at you pathetically, lips red from worrying at them with his teeth, pupils blown wide, red blush from his forehead to his neck.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that~!” You tease him, pressing your finger into his cheek. He watches you warily, seemingly at a loss for words. Your lips pull into a wicked smile. “How long has it been, hm?”

Immediately his eyes widen and he stammers out some indignant words, trying to deflect and explain himself. You only laugh at his stammered words, and he eventually stops, worrying at his lips again with his teeth. “Oh, don’t worry, I imagine you have plenty of escapades. But why couldn’t you just ask me?” You tilt your head at him, looking at him with hooded eyes. “Hm? It couldn’t have been that hard to just ask.”

Surprisingly, he only sighs and shakes his head, blush still present. “My dear apprentice, I am only human. Even I still don’t know how to properly act in the face of attraction.” A small, wobbly smile pulls at his lips before he purses his lips again, biting down to stifle any further words. His answer was straightforward, but you can tell he is still nervous. His breathing remains heavy, his eyes are still wide, and he’s still covered in a crimson blush. You laugh again.

Instead of teasing him further, though you really want to, you smile. “Well, now you know. Simply ask, Solomon. I am willing to help you… if you want me to.” You smile before turning away, dropping the panties into your clothes hamper, and starting the wash. It takes Solomon a moment to snap out of it and leave, but he does. You could feel his eyes on you and his magic still lingers in the air.

a/n: *super saiyan yells* thank you for reading waaaaaah! i did my best and im soso sorry if any of these characs are ooc... if they are too ooc i might actually rewrite it fr im so scared :(

anyways as usual feedback is always appreciated, and so are comments, likes, reblogs and asks! (especially asks) please show me your appreciation! i love to know i've done a good job.

@ikevampharem asked to be tagged :3!

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gococogo · 6 months

Note

Hello would it be ok to have a destiel fanfic with prompts "Just like we promised" and "I've missed your touch" i love ur work <3

Prompt 1 | Destiel

Synopsis: Dean has been out on a hunt for over a month and hasn't called Cas at all. He's still getting use to this whole fucking an angel thing.

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: Angst. Sappy. Smutty.

Notes: It's more than okay to want this. This was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy what i created! Enjoy!

The pacing became a constant thing on the fourth week. On the fifth, the nail biting had started. A bad habit he’s picked up from Sam out of all people, a nasty human habit. But the satisfaction behind it to relieve stress almost calms Cas’s nerves. He had paced from the main foyer to the kitchen to Dean’s room. Dean’s room is one of the main places that Castiel had resided.

When the sixth week came around, Cas’s nails were all chewed off and he had began picking at the skin around them. Dean was meant to call an entire week ago. No SMS either. No even a single prayer. Complete radio silence.

Sam had given Castiel Charlie’s number in case he got bored. Dean had made a comment about Charlie’s Angels. Something Cas didn’t understand until he had looked it up on his own phone later that day. But Sam had insisted yet Castiel declined saying he would be perfectly fine, for angel’s cannot feel human depths of boredom, just passing time.

One thousand and eight hours and six minutes to be exact. So, the angel isn’t bored per say, just very, deathly worried about Dean. And Sam.

The fourth day of the sixth week, the chunk and click of the bunker door snaps Castiel out of his trance in the main foyer. He stands up from where he sits at the table as laughter and voices burst into the bunker. By God is it good to hear their voices but at the same time it brings out so many bad emotions that vibrate his being and make him grind his teeth.

Sam is first to walk down the stairs, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a grin upon his face. When he spots the angel, his smile faulters. He tries his best to play it off but Cas sees the uncertainty.

“Oh, Castiel!” Sam says more surprised than anything, “I didn’t expect you to still be here!” He speaks as if the conversation they had over a month ago never happened. Which only -what’s that word Dean uses- pisses him off even more.

“I’ve been here this entire time,” Cas grumbles.

Which is below an angel of the lord like himself but the frustration flickering around inside of him is something that he hasn’t felt in a good while. Probably since apocalypse days.

“Cas!”

All eyes go to the older brother making his way down the stairs. Unlike Sam, Dean isn’t unscathed. His lip is busted, and his entire right eye is blackened. His eyebrow is split, and three gauze strips hold it together.

As soon as Dean comes down the last set of stairs, Cas is already across the room pushing past Sam to press two fingers to his forehead. The hunter straightens up at the sudden wellness that comes over him. His bruising disappears and fades into yellow and the cuts and scrapes heal without a scar. He goes to thank the angel but all he sees is a very frustrated one in front of him.

“You were suppose to contact me,” Castiel speaks firmly. Like angel of the lord firm. “But I received none of the sort.”

Sam goes deathly quiet behind them. He places his duffle bag of guns and knives on the table which make a louder noise than he originally intended. As if the sound is cutting through the thick tension in the room.

Dean sucks in air through teeth as he tries to avoid eye contact with the angel. But it doesn’t matter where he looks because Cas is only a few inches from him. So those deep blue eyes is all he sees.

“The hunt got very busy, Cas you know how it gets,” Dean argues poorly as he shrugs his shoulders. “We didn’t have time.”

“We had plenty of time,” Sam comments from the table.

Castiel slowly turns his attention towards Sam with a frown. All while Dean looks to his brother with a look of betrayal mixed with disgust. Sam swallows thickly and picks up his duffle bag.

“I’ll go put these away in the stash,” Sam grins sheepishly as he scoots himself across the room.

Blue returns back to green who looks more like a hurt child than anything. And all that anger and frustration is slow to wash away as Cas brings a hand to Dean’s cheek. The hunter flinches away slightly at first but stays in the warm touch of the angel.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

The angel lets out a deep sigh that has his shoulders drooping. Oh Dean.

“I’m…” The hunter clears his throat, readjusting his tone to something more manlier. “I’m still very new to this. To us.”

Cas holds Dean’s face in both his hands, almost engulfing his face but the hunter stays so still. Why still keep up this façade that doesn’t work on the angel? He’s seen him break and cry and become soft so many times. Why still keep up daddy’s good lil soldier in front of him?

A soft kiss is planted on Dean’s forehead over his once black eye. Then, like all the other times Cas has kissed Dean, he kisses the hunter gently and warmly. The heat that the angel radiates is like a furnace yet so inviting.

Dean grabs onto Castiel’s trench coat as he leans forward, deepening the kiss a little. In this moment, Cas can put his own irritation aside for this. He holds Dean, taste the hint of jerky on his mouth from the trip here. It isn’t the most pleasant of tastes, but Dean has kissed him with worst. Much worse.

Calloused hands make their way under Cas’s coat to his waist. This, this is something the angel has missed. Even if it has been a month and two weeks. Too long for his own good.

Unlike Cas, Dean pulls away to inhale a breath of air. The hunter smiles something wicked and Cas’s eyes slightly widen. Dean’s fingers loop into Cas’s belt and flips the buckle open a little too swiftly and a little too eagerly. A soft grip latches onto his wrist, stopping him in his movements. Dean raises a brow at the angel.

“I don’t think Sam will be too impressed if he catches us out here,” Castiel points out sternly, “Like last time.”

Dean barks out a fit of laughter, the memory coming to mind of Sam’s horrified face at the sight of the two. Dean splayed out on the table with the angel over him, his blue eyes as wide as saucepans. Both stark ass naked with the angel’s white butt out on full display.

“Why not?” Dean chuckles out.

Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. With his grip still on Dean’s wrist he begins backing up slowly across the foyer, dragging Dean along.

“You worry too much,” Dean grins.

“I don’t think I worry enough,” Cas bites back playfully.

Dean stops the angel and draws him into for another deep kiss. One that has him gripping the back of Cas’s hair and looping his fingers back into his belt. Dean pulls away but only mere millimetres, not wanting to stay away for too long.

Those green eyes lock onto the angel and Cas won’t lie, he’s missed those emeralds. He runs a thumb over Dean’s freckled cheek and smiles softly when he sees that everything is the same. No more bruises or cuts. Dean follows the notion with a side eye, almost wanting to pull away but staying still and stiffens under the touch.

It takes both of them a good while to get back to Dean’s room. Having to push the hunter there rather than drag him along since he kept stopping Cas. He isn’t vocal about it but he can tell that the hunter can’t keep his hands off of Cas.

Clothes come off a little too easily and Cas can’t help but frown when he spots more cuts and bruises on Dean’s frame. With soft touches, Cas heals them without a second thought. Dean shivers under the touch, his eyes tracking every movement. With a warm glow, Cas heals a deep purple bruise on Dean’s chest that has the hunter breathing a little easier. But with that he pushes Dean back onto the bed. The springs creak under his weight and he disrupts the perfectly made blankets. Cas’s work.

Dean tries to sit up on the bed but is pushed down again when Cas straddles his lap. He runs his hands over Dean’s body once more, making sure that he hasn’t missed any nicks and cuts. He could heal Dean in one go, but where’s the fun in that?

“I’ve…” Dean hesitates, adverting his gaze downwards to the angel’s hands. “I’ve missed your touch.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums at that with a smile.

“I wish I had called,” Dean continues. “Or sent a text. But I’m scared alright. As stupid as that sounds.”

The angel’s smile falls at that. To respond to that, he clasps the hunter’s face in his hands and kisses him softly unlike before. He moves his hips down on Dean as well, making the hunter squirm under his weight. Maybe he can forgive Dean after all.

In between the kisses, the angel mumbles out, “It’s not stupid at all.”

The result of watching Dean’s face go beet red is a reward in it’s own. Cas kisses him again, humming into his mouth with satisfaction. Such a human thing to do. How much he’s changed since being around Dean. He’s changed him so much. Does Dean realize just how much he’s done for the angel? Or is he blind to that fact? Maybe he might have to ask him one day. But not now.

Not when he feels Dean’s grip tighten on his hips, wanting him to grind down harder into him. The friction is something that the hunter craves at this moment. He grows hard and his dick rubs in between the angel’s cheeks. Precum leaks from Dean’s dick, making the glide easier.

Cas sits up slowly and as if out of nowhere, he holds Dean’s bottle of lube in hand. Dean’s stares at it bug eyed for a moment but doesn’t question it because he knows he left that in the bottom draw of his dresser. Where it normally stays. Either Cas miraculously brought the bottle to his hand or it was always on the bed and he just didn’t see it. Either either, both make sense for the angel.

“Let me,” Dean says as he takes the bottle from him.

Lathering his fingers up generously, Dean a little too eagerly brings his hand around Cas’s ass and inserts two fingers. The angel grunts at the sudden penetration, his eyes fluttering shut. With Dean’s other hand as he sets a quick pace to open up Cas, he kneads his thumb into the angel’s hips. Holding on as if he’s going to fly away with those wings of his.

Cas towers over Dean, scrunching up the blankets into his fists next to the hunter’s head. More lube is added and then a third finger is fitted right to the next others. Cas’s breathing becomes heavy, every nerve in his body buzzing and every inch of his grace humming. He can feel everything a little too well for his own good. The stretch of the three fingers, the way his hard cock rubs up against Dean’s, the way that he’s been wanting to feel Dean’s touch once more. Too much.

Deeming the angel ready, Dean brings his lubed fingers to slick his own dick up. He exhales shakily, holding himself together by a thread. The entire hunt, the Angel of Thursday was on his mind yet he was too coward to send a simple prayer. Next time. Next time we won’t be so stupid.

Cas exhales shakily, opening his eyes to meet a lustful green graze. The angel looks into those eyes fondly with a smile coming upon his reddened lips. He kisses Dean again, this time deepening it and grinding down on the hunter again. Dean grunts under him and digs that thumb into his hip a little more.

Dean guides the head of his dick to Cas’s ass, rubbing himself between his cheeks a few times. He pushes the tip of his dick in, humming in the kiss at the warmth he feels. He pushes in a little deeper and breaks the kiss, his face scrunching up into something needy. Cas continues lining Dean’s exposed neck though with small kisses, sucking and biting lightly. Dean groans as he grabs onto the angel’s hips with both hands to help guide him down.

Cas winces but moans something whiny into the hunter’s skin. He still smells like the hunt. Gun powder, cheap pharmacy cologne and musk. Dean grunts with every push. He fucks into Cas eagerly, but the angel isn’t going to stop him. He’s enjoying this too much. He’s missed Dean too much to let this pass. His body buzzes and constricts with pleasure that he can’t help the noises that comes his mouth. He can feel himself shaking in the hunter’s hold, his grace vibrating within.

Dean pushes Cas down onto him until he’s flush against his hips. The angel groans and breathes heavily as Dean only gives him a few seconds of adjustment before he begins a quick pace again. Each time he thrusts into Cas, he brings the angel down just as hard that gets a satisfying grunt from him.

The hunter sits up suddenly, still holding onto Cas so that they’re flush against each other. With each movement, Cas’s dick rubs up against their stomachs. The angel holds onto him as he lets the hunter fucks out everything from the hunt. Dean groans deep within his throat as he keeps moving at a constant pace, thrusting into Cas on his lap. It’s more of an awkward bob at this point, both being too desperate to do much more. But both are satisfied right now.

But Dean wants more. Suddenly, he flips and throws Cas onto the bed with little effort. He grabs onto the back of the angel’s knees and pushes his legs up so that he’s almost folded in half. He lines himself up again, this time slipping in easier than the last.

The new angle has Cas shivering and grunting with each thrust into him. He digs his fingernails into Dean’s shoulder, unable to gain control of the delicious noises coming from his throat.

Through shaky pants, Dean is able to grumble out a deep, “I’ve missed you.”

Another shiver runs down Cas’s back, earning a whimper like sound from him. The hunter’s cock passes by that sweet bundle of nerves inside of Cas that has him grunting with each movement. Cas wraps his legs around Dean, holding him close as the hunter’s thrust become short and shallow. Dean comes down for a sloppy kiss, mostly broken by breaths of shaky inhales.

“I’ve-“ Dean pecks Cas on the mouth, cutting him off. “missed you-“ another kiss, “…too.”

Dean brings a hand down to wrap about the angel’s leaking cock, flicking a thumb over his tip with every stroke. Cas arches his back the best he can in the position he’s in and startles out a cry. By God, he can feel himself getting close. His body buzzes and feels like tv static with just a simple touch. He doesn’t want this to be over already, but with Dean abusing that sweet part inside of him he can’t hold on at all.

Cas chokes out a strangled cry as his whole body and grace feels like it’s going to explode. He releases hot strips into Dean’s hand as he digs his bitten nails deeper into the hunter’s shoulders. He heals the bruising before it even comes about, even in his stare of high. Dean keeps fucking through his orgasm, making it ten times more intense.

“Dean,” Cas grits out.

With a few couple of more hard thrusts, Dean drives his cock deeper into Cas as he reaches his own orgasm. Dean stiffens up, unmoving as he cums hot and deep within the angel. Who would have thought. Fucking an angel of the lord.

Cas shivers at the new sensation of the warmth inside of him. He grits his teeth, holding Dean in place. He doesn’t think he can handle the hunter moving at this given moment. Both stay still for a good few minutes, a panting and sweaty mess. Cas can’t help but shake faintly, his breathing ragged and uneven. He can feel his grace is all over the place and he tries his best to collect himself.

But it’s very hard when Dean lands on top of the angel with an audible, “Oof,” slipping out of the angel in the process. Cas places a hand on his back and gives him a light pat on the shoulder. But Dean doesn’t move and inch, his face flat against the nape of his neck.

“I’m coming with you next time,” Cas grumbles out.

Whatever Dean says next, it’s lost into a mumble and jumble of words in the angel’s neck. This earns a short chuff from the angel, knowing full well that the hunter can’t stop him in doing so. What he says goes. But right now, he’s fully content in laying in for a few minutes. He’s fine in letting time pass by when it’s with Dean Winchester.

Have an amazing day/night ;)

184 notes · View notes

cloverdaisies · 8 months

Text

HOW TO SURVIVE SENIOR YEAR ☆

ERIC SOHN x reader 𝜗𝜚𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

˗ˏˋ description:ˎˊ˗જ��➴ৎ୭ : a chaotic how to guide on surviving high school with an 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 crush on the skater boy with the locker next to urs.

˗ˏˋ genre: ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭: pretty much chaos & fluff !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚ word count: ɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆: 5.4k+

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚ dt : ɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆: for bar! @sohnric sorry it’s so late ! ! yk, e v e r y t h i n g that’s been going on & i’m sure you don’t mind! merry late c h r i s t m a s i <3 u very much, i tried to incorporate everything for you… i think these prompts definitely reached the right person!! ৎ୭… so for my bar ! ! …..

# FRIDAY 21ST SEPTEMBER 1996

# MORNING! 🌥️

The unbearable series of screeching from the school bell, cued the sound of wheels scraping against the pavement outside. A pair of blue cargo jeans complimenting a classic pair of red jordan’s glued themselves to a skateboard as it began flipping and jumping curbs. The wire of a walkman dangling, the flimsy headphones leaking sounds of a noisy guitar through the hallway of the school.

“Eric Sohn. No skating in the corridor and you’re late to class.” A nerdy-looking hallway monitor approached the skateboard wielding boy, holding out some form of citation for Eric to sign with a wavering hand.

“I’m not signing that.” He laughed, snatching the sheet making sure to crumple it into a tight ball before throwing it behind him. “You didn’t see me. Thank me later.”

The hall monitor, whose name tag read ‘Younghoon’ looked down with eyeballs bulging from his skull at the cigarette in his palm, tears pricking his waterline. Eric continued to skate the corridors to his homeroom, biting into an apple with that jaw of his that had to have been sharpened by the gods-

at least…. that’s what you saw….

Eric was a childhood crush of yours, considering you two lived on the same street growing up and you still vividly remember the heart eyes that pumped from your skull when you watched him play basketball on his driveway from your windowsill every night after school. Everything he did was enchanting, he made the simplest things look hot and his charm was next level too.

As for what Kevin sat next to you was seeing: just some dude burping and blowing it into his friends face afterwards.

In your sick love fantasy, you still thought he was the funniest most angelic man to first stick his feet in the soil of the earth.

“If you wanna survive senior year, you need to stop staring at him like that. it’s gross and it’ll leave you the minute it gets heart eyes for anything else. How many times can we have this conversation?” Kevin laughed and scribbled down, ‘1. NO F**K BOYS (especially Eric Sohn)’ in bright red ink at the top of your page.

“So!” Your homeroom teacher waltzed into the room with a wide grin glowing from cheek to cheek. “The class of 96’ how do you feel?! Your time at this school is almost over! Some of us are setting good examples, sat in our actual chairs and not the table Mr. Sohn?”

You giggled as Eric turned with a sigh, crossing his arms and sinking into his seat, secretly you hoped he would catch eyes with you just for a second and share a smile. However, the boy just put his headphones back on and slammed his head on the wooden desk as if he were to fall asleep.

You looked down at the diary where,

“ 1. NO F**K BOYS ”

had been written so passionately by Kevin and thought, if you’re gonna make senior rules, you should at least make the best high school ‘how to’ guide the world has ever seen.

——

The entire school day, word had gotten about ‘Kyu’s first party of the semester’ renowned for his crazy mansion of a house, and parents that were home a concerningly small amount of the time. Happening tonight, you hadn’t even thought about what you were gonna wear yet, or the fact that Kyu himself was Eric’s bestfriend.

Eric had a rather large friend circle of boys in your year, from Juyeon who was into sports to Jacob who was a bit of a music nerd and closer to Kevin if anything. Despite this, neither you or Kevin had received an invite to Kyu’s house for later that day.

# LUNCHTIME ! 🍛

Filling your metal tray and sitting next to Kevin on the end of one of the empty lunch hall tables, before you you could even begin biting in the panini you’d paid for, it was snatched out of your hand by...

“Sunwoo, that was my sandwich.” You groaned, looking at your empty plate and then back at him with a glare. “Do you not have your own food?”

“This looked nicer than my food, just have it back.” He shrugged dumping the half eaten sandwich back on your plate.

“Oh no it’s all yours.” You smiled sarcastically watching as he smiled and took the sandwich back in one animalistic gulp.

“So sorry about that y/n. Isn’t he just awful? I got you a new one.” Hyunjae, as if the entire scene was staged, sits beside you with his hand smoothly rested on his cheek. He pushed a new sandwich in front of you with a carton of orange juice sat at the top of the tray.

You rolled your eyes before you almost tripped over your comically untied laces (how did both of them end up that way?) You flew backwards only to be caught by Hyunjae, once again returning to his cringey script.

“Falling for me, I see?” He smirked lifting you back to your feet as you sat down to retie your laces that had been undone by someone at some point in time.

“Is this just going to happen every lunchtime?” You cocked an eyebrow with a huff, tying bunny ears in your converse and briefly looking back up to the boy.

“Of course, however each time it just gets more creative.” He smiled confidently, you were unaware that these were romantic gestures since Hyunjae made it seem like one big joke with his extravagant concepts.

“Please make it stop.” You rolled your eyes and tucked into the new sandwich, Kevin laughing to himself. You began to zone out as you noticed Eric from across the canteen, sat on the table skateboard propped up and talking to his friends. He looked at you momentarily with a smile before you were interrupted by Hyunjae waving his hand in front of your face.

“Are you guys coming to kyu’s?” Hyunjae asked, biting into his own.

“No. We’re not cool enough.” Kevin began to fake cry, wiping invisible tears and squealing in a high pitched whine.

“He said anyone can come, of course you guys are invited. When has he ever asked anyone?” Sunwoo added punching Kevin the back lightly and taking a seat at the table. “Just show up.”

As lunch ended, you found yourself digging through your locker for the biology notes you’d written the other day. However as you dug through your shelf you just couldn’t find them.

“What you looking for?” A deep voice alarmed you, looking up to see Eric Sohn throwing his jacket in the locker that belonged to him next to yours.

“Oh. Uhm.” You stuttered for a moment, wondering if your eyes and ears were telling you the truth. “Just some notes for biology, we have a test coming up.”

“Oh yeah, you can borrow mine for now. Just slot them back in my locker on Monday.” Eric passed you a few pieces of A4 with neatly printed notes, the cigarette resting on his lips bobbing as he spoke.

“Thanks, that’s uh, really kind of you.” You smiled as he shook his head nonchalantly.

“It’s nothing, don’t stress.” He added before breezing past you to the exit of the school with a confident stride in his steps, his skateboard under his arms.

# EVENING 🌌 :📍Y/N’s HOUSE

“Okay so what are you wearing?” Kevin asked turning around in his sequin shirt and jeans, complimenting his outfit with a crossbody bag and sunglasses.

“Uhm. Not sure yet. Might go for baggy jeans and a sequin top too.. I have a lot.” You showed Kevin the options, watching as he scratched his chin and looked between them.

જ⁀➴ৎ୭ OUTFIT OPTIONS:

(feel free to mix & m a t c h!)

“Gorgeous!” Kevin smiled, fixing you a few necklaces of his behind your neck. You smiled and looked in the mirror briefly before setting off down the block.

The house pulsated the entire street as guests spilled in the front door to the infectious rhythm playing at max volume from the many speakers around the house. A kaleidoscope of vibrant lights drowned the space, as drinks circulated everyone from the kitchen.

House parties tended to be like some sort of cringe trashy and incomprehensible version of a homecoming dance for adults that you couldn’t seem to understand. Sure they were fun but, high school students embarrassing themselves sure wasn’t.

“Hey Kevin.” A very drunk Ji Changmin sauntered over to us at the entrance, “Who’s the plus one?”

As Changmin looked over with his devilish glare, apart of you started to get nervous. As if you were mixing with the wrong crowd, a gentle flip in your stomach warned you, something was about to go incredibly wrong.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You introduced yourself with a smile, as he passed you a beer from the many in his arms.

There was one thing that would determine whether someone would survive senior year: alcohol.

“2. PARTIES = STATUS”

Probably one of the most screwed survival tips, but unfortunately for teenagers who were just short of legal age a sip of liquor was enough to emphasise them as ‘cool’. Even if drinking is not your thing, the general consensus of being popular in senior year was to attend parties, host them and make lethal mistakes whilst there.

Throughout the night, you and Kevin found yourselves bouncing from group to group eventually watching Sangyeon and Juyeon play the most intense game of cup pong ever played in the competitive sports world.

♫ ANOTHER NIGHT - REAL MCCOY playing from speakers ♫

“Do you wanna take this one?” Sangyeon asked, holding the ping pong ball in front of you with a raised eyebrow.

“Me?” You asked laughing from the sidelines as he nodded, standing up properly you walked towards the table where most eyes were fixed on the table.

You’d gotten the grips of how to play, grasping the ball with a nervous clench before watching as Juyeon stared down the table with a sly smirk, his arms folded over his white tank top.

Bouncing off the table the ball hit the top of the few cups cups before landing in the fourth, making Juyeon’s total three. The crowd watching laughed as Juyeon threw his head back in defeat, taking the cup and gulping down its contents.

“Taking advantage of beginners luck is dirty play.” Juyeon shook his head at Sangyeon who laughed knowingly. “Whatever. If I land this you’re drinking this.”

Sure enough, as Juyeon bounced the ball across the table it landed in one of the two cups left leaving one. You’d hoped he’d missed not wanting to get to drunk around a group of people you’d never met. Nevertheless you took the cup and necked it’s contents, with a cheering crowd. Juyeon eventually won against Sangyeon, seeing the close of world’s most competitive game of cup pong.

A few drinks through the night, your brain chemistry had already began buzzing and the socialite in you stepped out of hiding, as you spoke to almost everyone you encountered. Hearing commotion from the living room, you dragged Kevin to investigate.

The room buzzed with anticipation as people gathered in a circle, forming a tight-knit group. Nervous giggles filled the air, drowned out by the music playing in the background. Sunwoo placed a bottle in the center of the circle, ready to determine the first pair of an early game of ‘spin the bottle’.

With a flick of his wrist, the bottle spun, its rotation echoing the excitement in the room. Hearts raced as it slowed down, pointing towards its chosen target. The room held its breath as the Sunwoo locked eyes with a girl he’d had a crush on for most of his childhood, their cheeks flushing bright pink as he made eye contact. With a playful smile, Sunwoo picked out one of the ‘fates’ written in the hat, revealing the crumpled paper to the crowd.

“Kiss.” He laughed nervously, smiling as she was, the circle squealed in anticipation. He leaned in to give her peck which raised a “booo” from the crowd at the underwhelming gesture.

“Y/N JOIN IN.” Hyunjae yelled from the group, causing the circle to laugh at how pathetic he was. You jokingly stepped behind Kevin to hide as “Join” began to be chanted in the room, persuading you to sit down in a gap made by Hyunjae and Haknyeon.

You took the bottle and spun it, the booze causing nerves to disappear. As the bottle began to slow down, Hyunjae grabbed the glass pointing it towards him - no one protesting considering this was his life long goal.

You sighed, hoping the paper in the hat wouldn’t do you dirty in this situation, looking up you noticed a familiar figure. Eric’s eyes stared down at you, stood from the other side of the circle, rested against the mantlepiece in his tank top and baggy jeans - a bottle of beer gripped loosely in his hands.

All of a sudden, your hands began to shake in adrenaline, Hyunjae’s eyes wavering as he noticed the way you looked up at the other boy. You began to unfold one of the pieces of paper from the hat, “7 minutes in heaven” you could have screamed. This was truly a worst case scenario, as the circle cheered and Sunwoo ushered the two of you to the bathroom.

Hyunjae locked the door with a sigh, sitting both legs in the bathtub and taking a lengthy swig of his beer in a saddened manner.

“Are you not going to do anything?” You asked curiously, folding your arms and taking a seat on the toilet cover.

“No.”He sighed, resting the bottle on the side and turning to look at you with an inquisitive stare, his eyebrows furrowing as if they contemplating internal questions.

“Why not?” You asked further, leaning forward as Hyunjae’s confident demeanour seemed to have suspiciously faltered.

“I see the way you look at him.” He suddenly spat, as if something within him snapped. “You’ll never give it up will you. Everyday, I do something to make you laugh, smile and show you someone cares. Yet… Every time I try, you’re still staring at that motherfucker who wants nothing to do with you.”

“Sorry?” You asked almost confused, the outburst seemingly unnecessary as he went to speak again but was interrupted by an ominous banging at the door.

“I get you guys are probably exchanging cooties in there, but I need to shit.” The sweet sound of Haknyeon’s charming voice and vocabulary echoed through the bathroom causing you to hold back a laugh in the situation.

“Listen y/n. I need to ask a favor.” Hyunjae proposed, stopping you from reaching for the handle of the door. “My parents have been bugging me about having a girlfriend, since my brother has one now and they’re telling me I’m a good for nothing man who will never be able to commit to someone. Which is kind of true. But will you pretend to be my girlfriend to get them off my back?”

“Will I? Hmmm….” You pretend to think for a second before retorting with a loud. “NO.”

“Please. I’ll help you get him, I’ll do everything I can to help you win Eric over. I’m one of his bestfriends.” Hyunjae’s eyes glistened in genuine sparkle, an expression you’d only come across once or twice in your life.

“I’ll think about it. But for now, it’s not a yes or a no.” You closed the conversation, head spinning as you opened the door, Haknyeon spilling into the bathroom and beelining straight for the toilet.

“3. DONT PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE’s GIRLFRIEND WHILST YOUR TRYING TO GET THE ATTENTION OF THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE.”

Oddly specific rule, however as you proceeded down the stairs it seemed you wouldn’t have to convince people you were dating - their dirty minds had already assumed what had happened in that bathroom.

“You’re on.” You looked back at Hyunjae with a smile before linking arms with Kevin to leave, the party only dying down in the early hours of the morning.

# SATURDAY 22ND SEPTEMBER 1996

# MORNING 🌥️

The gentle rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, birds began chirping outside, and the comforting aroma of breakfast drifted from the kitchen. Your eyes stuck together and your head booming with music from the night before, on the floor Kevin was sprawled emitting gentle snores.

The sound of a car horn outside, immediately brought you to your senses, with your fingers your gently moved the curtain to see Hyunjae leant against his car.

“Your dating Hyunjae?” Kevin asked, giving you the fright of your life as he appeared over your shoulder.

“No.” You immediately refuted, getting shivers from the sickly idea of having to date such a inferior choice of male.

“So why’s he here?” Kevin asked with a sarcastic voice, laughing at the stupidity of the scene.

“We’re dating but like just so his family gets off his back.” You sighed, standing up out of bed and beginning to make yourself look more presentable.

“You’re FAKE dating, Hyunjae?” Kevin’s jaw dropped even more than it already was if that was even possible. “That isn’t gonna look good to lover boy now is it?”

“Listen, he’s helping me get him. He’s on the inner circle, if I have a chance of getting Eric this is it.” You sighed taking your clothes to change in your arms.

“I’m calling Jacob.” Kevin suddenly added, pulling out his nokia with its antenna.

“Don’t you dare he said don’t call unless it’s emergencies, he’s in exam mode.” You recalled, knowing Jacob is practically unreachable during exam season.

“This is an emergency.” Kevin emphasised each word with a sarcastic edge.

“It’s not and if you call him, I’ll make your life so difficult.” You pointed at the boy with a warning finger before walking out to meet Hyunjae in front of his car.

♫ ALL THE SMALL THINGS - BLINK 182 playing from the car radio ♫

“Hey.” You smiled, climbing into the passenger seat of his car, the soft top rolled down so the breeze would eventually leave you wind swept. “Where we heading?”

“Bowling with my parents.” Hyunjae grumbled, more than happy you were in his car but visibly stressed with the entire situation.

“Is this all I have to do and I’m not your girlfriend anymore?” You suggested, leaning your head on the side of the car and letting the wind catch your face.

“Should be. Then I’ll tell you all about him.” Hyunjae chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel and another raking through his hair.

The bowling alley downtown was lively, decorated with neon lights and the sound of crashing pins. The smell of hot dogs and nachos wavering faintly in the air. The lanes are filled with laughter and ‘friendly’ competition.

Hyunjae swiftly introduced you to his mother and father, who looked you up and down before sending him an impressed smile.

“I’ll have to warn you dear y/n, they both get a bit competitive.” Hyunjae’s mother smiled as Hyunjae age his dad began squaring up to each other in the lane.

Whilst you were putting on your shoes, you felt a pair of eyes on you from somewhere unable to tell where.

“Hey y/n!” A familiar cheerful voice greeted you, looking up shell shocked you saw Eric, dressed in his work uniform with a lollipop. You felt your heart shatter, Hyunjae had to know he worked here, he set you up, but why?

Eric looked gorgeous in uniform you had to say, his pinstriped shirt and jeans complimented by the blue cap. However, you had bigger issues.

“You on a date with Hyunjae?” He asked, polishing a pair of shoes behind the counter next to you, happening to notice how pretty his hands were. “You look pretty, he’s a lucky guy.”

What did he say?

“Oh Eric! You met my girlfriend! This is y/n!” Hyunjae wrapped an arm around you with a condescending smile, for you everything felt as if it had frozen in time.

Eric swivelled the lollipop in his mouth for a moment, observing the look of shock you’d tried to conceal with a smile on your face and chuckled to himself.

“Landed a nice one there haven’t you buddy?” Eric almost began to patronise his bestfriend, a look of suspicious nature hidden in his big smile like a cheshire cat.

“I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” You giggled before excusing yourself to the toilets across the arena with a nervous pace.

“Well that backfired.” A voice sounded, someone pulling you back from one of the booths in the canteen. Kevin and Jacob sat like spies with sunglasses tuxedos and newspapers had been watching the entire time.

“He set me up.” You sighed putting your hands in your head. “I know he’s jealous of him but i didn’t think he’d go this far.”

“It’s Hyunjae. This is probably hilarious content to him.” Kevin rolled his eyes as Jacob nodded along, them both peering around the corner to watch the scene unfold.

“Y/n have you ever considered that Eric might like you?” Jacob asked taking his sunglasses off to look at you properly before you answered.

“He definitely doesn’t like me like that, maybe as a friend?” You suggested, twiddling your thumbs together over the wooden surface.

“Well he doesn’t seem to like the entire you and Hyunjae thing.” He added looking back over to the icy conversation between the two boys at the check in desk - Hyunjae’s parents stepping in to tell him they were ready to play.

“How can you tell?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, waiting for the reply as he began to speak.

“Duck! He’s coming.” Kevin quickly hid you under table covering you with his jacket as they both got back to their newspapers.

“Kevin?” The sound of Hyunjae’s voice from above the surface startled. “You seen y/n anywhere?”

“No? I saw her come in with you.” Kevin cleverly redirected the question allowing the boy to shrug and walk in a different direction looking for you.

“I told you these disguises wouldn’t work, we needed the moustaches.” Kevin hissed across the table to Jacob, the both of them having watched a few too many over the summer.

“Listen what do I do? Because I can’t tell Eric I’m fake dating Hyunjae because then he’d find out I was doing it because I have a stupid little thing for him!” You exclaimed, frustrated as you’d fell right in to Hyunjae’s trap.

“4. DON’T FALL FOR YOUR CRUSH’S BESTFRIENDS BLACKMAIL”

“I wouldn’t call it little. But hope things work out for you!” Jacob smiled angelically ignoring the pain shimmering in your eyes.

“Me too!” They began to gather their things ave scramble, about to take flight from the situation.

“Where are you guys going?” You asked panicked they were about to ditch you and leave the sticky situation.

“Getting you out of here.” Kevin replied taking your arm and sprinting out of the nearest exit - they may have set an alarm off for opening a fire door but oh well.

“5. DO HAVE FRIENDS THAT WILL GET YOU OUT OF SITUATIONS YOU CAUSED YOURSELF”

# MONDAY 24TH SEPTEMBER 1996

After hibernating in your bed for the rest of the weekend and 13 times Kevin had tried to ring the landline to check if you were okay. It was time to face them all at school and you could not think of anything worse.

“Oh my god. It’s aliveeee.” Kevin acts out a poor excuse of a Frankenstein impression as you laughed and breezed past him to your locker.

“If you see Hyunjae hide me.” You chuckled as he signed ‘rodger that’ with a salute and began rambling about the pasta he cooked for dinner the night before.

All of a sudden you were pushed into the locker, Kevin stood in front on you casually reading a book as Hyunjae walked by with a question mark above his head. He didn’t bother asking where you were, assuming if you weren’t with Kevin you weren’t there at all.

You eventually broke free of the hiding spot, fixing your hair and brushing down your clothes. The sound of wheels rolling down the corridor coming to a halt beside you.

“Were you?-” Eric was about to ask but refrained considering Kevin was signing ‘cut’ and ‘shush’ behind you flailing his arms around like a maniac.

“Here’s your notes.” You smiled, a touch of pink rising to your cheeks as your hand grazed his defined one, the notes you’d borrowed in pristine condition.

“Thanks, cutie.” He smiled, the nickname causing you to freeze up in your tracks, you knew he only said it out of courtesy or like the others that was ‘just his personality’ but it made your heart melt - as you watched him skate down the corridor, his biceps flexing to maintain balance.

You managed to survive your classes without being berated by Hyunjae or any of his friends, having to sadly eat lunch in a cubicle surely wasn’t a high moment of yours.

Soon the bell was sounding for the end of the day as students flocked out of the grounds excited for the school’s baseball match that evening.

“There she is!” You heard an annoyingly shrill voice yell from behind you, as you were about to cross the car lot. Behind you was Eric Hyunjae and Juyeon, walking in a line towards you whilst Eric was on his skateboard.

“Told you I saw her.” Eric laughed as you were clearly avoiding Hyunjae at all costs, you turned with a bitter smile as they got closer.

“You coming to Eric’s big game tonight?” Juyeon asked giving a friendly elbow to Eric, clearly nervous as it was the first big game of the season.

Eric looked at you with an ounce of hope, only to be quickly shot down, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes sparkled at the idea.

“No she’s actually got a date with me.” Hyunjae answered for you with a snide tone, eyes flickering towards you.

“No,no. I think I’ll go.” You smiled, “I really like baseball.”

“I don’t wanna interrupt you guys.” Eric looked between you both with something suspicious lingering behind his eyes as he turned his baseball cap to the left.

“You’re not interrupting us! Perhaps this ‘date’ can be on the pitch.” You suggested looking at Hyunjae’s wide eyes, knowing his plan was falling to pieces but he couldn’t disagree, not in front of everyone.

“Cool.” Eric smiled smugly, “See you there.”

You watched as him and Juyeon walked to the pitch for pre-match practice. Not wanting to spare Hyunjae anymore time, you walked at lightning speed in the direction of your house, ignoring him yelling your name from behind you.

“Y/n give me a second.” Hyunjae caught up to you on the sidewalk, grabbing your arm to turn you around. “You don’t have to do this anymore, go get him. It’s clear you’ll always love him and I can’t change that. I’m sorry, I took it too far.”

Despite the fact you appreciated the apology it seemed as if it was a little to late, he’d already tried to bring everything crashing down between you and Eric and now he thinks the both of you are on a date at his game. You smiled at him and nodded, swiftly turning on your heels and rushing home.

# LET’S GO H A W K S, LET’S G O O O !!🏟️

The chanting of cheerleaders and commotion amongst the crowd sang from outside of the pitch, Kevin and Jacob having already bought snacks rushed to a bench with good sight of the pitch.

“I’m so excited for this, there’s literally no way we lose.” Kevin watched as your school team walked out on to the pitch, immediately spotting Eric and making smoochy faces at you.

You didn’t notice too much of Kevin’s torment, as you were captivated by the sight of him. Eric looked up at the bleachers as if he was scanning the crowd for someone in particular his eyes landed on you for a moment - or Kevin maybe even Jacob.

The game commenced, no home-runs were scored by the competition and our team was not looking to beat them either. Time was running out as the ball left the hand of the pitcher, Eric stood in formation waiting for the ball to reach him. He swung the bat behind him and hit the ball with astonishing force triggering a roar from the crowd. He made a run for it, it was a home-run, the winning home-run.

“Go get him girl.” Kevin said as the players began to leave the pitch, watching as you ran off immediately to find him.

You patiently waited outside the locker rooms for him, knowing the other players would be tossing him around and winding him up. He eventually emerged from the lockers, wet hair and a towel around his neck.

“Can I talk to you?” You asked as he caught eyes with you, confused to why you’d waited.

“Sure, where’s Jae?” He asked, following you as you began to walk to somewhere more private.

“I’ll explain all of that.” You sighed, looking back at the boy for a moment, feeling your heartbeat pause in time as the sunlight hit his skin.

You both made your way under the bleachers, Eric already making a joke about what happens underneath them before even getting there.

“Eric. I have to say this otherwise one day I’m going to implode.” You began, your heart facing the adrenaline kicking through your veins and it was as if a theme park was screaming in your stomach. “I like you.”

A silence sat amongst you, the conflict in his eyes bouncing back and forth making you increasingly apprehensive for what he was about to say.

“Y/n I can’t do this to Hyunjae. Listen I really like you but that’s my-” Eric tried to collect himself, holding on to the top of the bleachers with one arm and wiping his forehead with the other.

“Eric we’re not dating! I know you can see that.” You pleaded with him, watching as his gorgeous eyes twisted to confusion.

“You’re not?” He asked, more than confused.

“No…. I agreed to ‘fake’ date him to get his parents off his back and to get to know more about you. But.. he took it too far and I think he might’ve been jealous I liked you.” You admitted, chewing your bottom lip and looking anywhere but at the boy fresh off the pitch in his baseball uniform.

“I don’t know because what if you’re lying to me.” He suggested, you couldn’t get offended because what if you were?

“Eric you’ve known me since we were kids I wouldn’t lie to you, I wouldn’t get anything out of doing that.” You reassured him, watching him contemplate ideas in his head as if mini cogs were turning.

“Y/n I know I don’t show it, but I really was interested in you but Hyunjae I couldn’t hurt him. Do you mind if I?” He asked, pulling you closer to him with his back leant up against the metal beam behind him.

“Of course I don’t.” You smiled, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched that beautiful grin of his spread across his lips, his brown eyes sparkling down with the sunset peaking through the gaps of the rows.

He kissed you, so sweetly, so gently, holding your face with the palm of his hand and bringing your waist closer as your stomach flipped and your heart filled with love. As you parted he brought you into his arms, it was the warmest hug that just felt as if everything was right.

“Now that you’ve said it, it makes sense. I’ve never seen someone avoid their boyfriend so much until now.” He laughed thinking of the time you escaped the bowling alley with Kevin and Jacob and further went to extreme lengths to avoid him at school too.

You giggled in his arms, looking up to his face that smiled back down at you, gently moving in for another kiss.

“I think I won twice today.” Eric laughed, giddy with excitement the grin on his face practically beaming from ear to ear.

That’s how you sort of survived senior year.

tagging: @juyeonszn @deobienthusiast 🤍

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grimsonandclover · 29 days

Note

hi j came across ur blogs and FINALLY. someone who doesn’t write about puppy art or stepcest. i tbh would read anhtbjng abt patrick but i love childhood best freind patrick fics or enemies to lovers fics the most!!

All I Want For Christmas

Childhood Bestfriend!Patrick Zweig x classical singer!reader

Song of the post 'WHAT'S IT TO HIM? - Quadeca'

Yes! I don't yuck other people's yum but I noticed how it's everywhere in this fandom, which is fine, it's just not for me! There are some versions of puppy!characters that I can enjoy, but not when it gets really into the puppy stuff, ykwim? Stepcest and any other incest things are a hard no from me, though. Anyways, fuck, I love these two tropes so much, I could eat them for breakfast lunch and dinner and still have them as snacks and still never tire. but childhood friends to lovers >>> im such a softy for it. I wrote this the moment I saw your message, so it's semi-proofread, more so just me writing the little story I thought of as it came to me. if you want a smutty part two lmk and ill write it in a flash

I have no clue where the Christmas theme came from, it just kinda happened. I don't even celebrate Christmas lmao.

This was meant to be a blurb. Now it's a 5k word slow burn blurb. Hope you enjoy!

also the song linked has nothing to do w the story lmao, it's just what's playing. <3 quadeca

SFW

5.3k words

childhood bestfriend!Patrick Zweig, Never dates Tashi/Loses Art!AU, slow burn, timeskips, no content warnings

--(x)-- 1998 - 2006 --(x)--

You both grew up quite rich, you and Patrick Zweig. Going to the same charity events and galas and birthday dinners as kids because your parents would drag you both along to brag about your accomplishments. Patrick's parents would brag about how he's a tennis prodigy that's gonna go pro one day, have you seen him play? And your parents brag about your voice and your grades, how youre gonna get into any school you want (which you would be able to anyways since theyd just pay the school board). You've got the voice of an angel and since you were four they'd make you get up at parties and events and sing something by the piano. You were groomed to love the spotlight just like Patrick was groomed to love the rush of tennis.

Patrick loved hearing you sing. When you'd be ushered over to your spot by the piano player and ask the adults what they'd like to hear, Patrick would sit up from his slump at the dinner table or sofa, perking up like a dog being told its time for treats. He didn't really know anything about music, he just knew your voice did something in his chest.

You loved seeing him play. Your family had plenty of casual tennis players of its own, tennis being quite a popular sport amongst the wealthy. You understood the gist of it, but that wasn't why you asked your parents to go every time Patrick got to play. You wanted to go because it felt like the closest thing to seeing a shooting star up close. He was like a fireball on the court, even from a young age. His couches kept trying to train the unique serve out of him, you could see their cringing from the sidelines whenever he'd do it, but eventually they stopped when they realized how much he won with it. Because he did. A lot. It was mesmerizing to watch.

One Christmas the two of you finally properly spoke to eachother. You were both ten. Your parents had all gotten wine drunk in the other room, leaving the kids to try and get along in the Zweig's living room. The Christmas parties were always held at the Zweig house, it was the biggest. Didn't matter that they were Jewish. Never even crossed their mind, too big of an oppertunity to schmooze and secure business deals. Patrick never gave it a second thought, just happy he got gifts.

You two had just sat down by the fireplace as the other older kids convened on how to sneak some liquor without anyone noticing. You were too young to care about things like that, instead talking to eachother about school and your respective passions. It was the first proper conversation you'd had even though you had practically been in each other's lives since birth. Patrick liked hearing about the unserious gossip from your all-girls private school, how once again you were on the deans list and top of the class. He found it the funniest thing in the world when you confessed that you'd cheated on a math exam, your weakest subject. How you'd done that quite often actually. Patrick liked knowing you weren't as perfect as your parents boasted you to be, because that made you actually perfect in his eyes.

You liked hearing about the rowdy boys at his school and at tennis practice, and the stupid fights that would break out. Patrick would tell you about the famous tennis players his parents would get him to meet, some even practice with. How they'd comment on his serve, too, and when Patrick would imitate their voice and mannerisms, youd laugh till your stomach and cheeks hurt. Patrick decided then, at ten years old, to commit your laugh to memory. It was a sound as beautiful as your singing.

That became your routine at every dinner and every party your parents would take you to. You'd find solace and company with eachother, a rare, true friend in your world. You both never told your parents about the friendship because even then you knew they'd try and take advantage of it. Turn it into some political relationship, breed you two to marry or something for their benefits.

When Patrick's parents sent him off to the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy when you were twelve, you cried into your pillow for hours. You'd promised to write eachother, but there's only so much writing a twelve year old can do before they get distracted. Your meetings went from twice a month to once a year. The Zweig family Christmas party.

Just like when you were ten, the two of you would meet up by the crackling fireplace and swap stories, updating each other on your lives. You performed with a real live orchestra last week a version of Silent Night and your mother cried from the crowd. Patrick was sorry he couldn't be there but you handed him a CD with a recording of the night, knowing he'd want to see it, and he said it was the best Christmas gift he'd ever gotten. He hadn't even watched it yet, but he knew. The tennis racket once owned by Bjorn Borg was a pretty great gift too, though (he'd keep it hung on his dorm wall for his entire time at the academy, then later in a case in the trunk of his car to keep it safe).

He had met a kid named Art at the academy, and he talked about how they became fast friends. Best friends. You didn't really have much time for friends, too busy with school and all the extracurriculars your parents had signed you up for since birth. It was kind of like that for Patrick before he left, and you were happy he got the chance to meet someone at the academy. Art sounded great, and you wished you could meet him.

The next year you did it again, but at 15 Patrick got pneumonia on Christmas eve and couldn't come. You sat by the fireplace alone, picking lint off your sweater. Not much had changed apart from his absence. The older kids, now nearing college, were still thinking of ways to get alcohol. Some messed around with eachother in the various rooms of the house while the parents were off doing whatever parents did, not having much else to do. You stayed by yourself, watching the fire and praying to God that Patrick would be okay.

The year after, Patrick was back. He was older now, and so were you, of course. You were both 16 now, puberty catching up with the both of you in the year you hadn't seen each other.

Patrick had started properly shaving now, and when you first laid eyes on him, waiting for you by the fireplace, the slight shadow of hair on his chin and jaw was the first thing you noticed. Your eyes trailed up the stubble to his cheeks, which had lost the baby fat and now made the apples of his cheeks much more visible, especially as he smiled up at you. He called your name excitedly, standing up to meet you in a hug. You had hugged before, but he never wore cologne before. He had clearly gone through a growth spurt, too, and easily could rest his chin on your head. When you pulled back from the hug, you grabbed his shoulders and held him at arms length, just looking at him. He did the same for you, taking in the slight increase of height yourself, the more mature glow in your skin, and, since he was still only a teenage boy and still Patrick Zweig, your new boobs. His eyebrows raised, a slow and impressed whistle blew from his lips as he gave you alook. "You've grow." He smiled, and you swatted his arms while you blushed. "Look who's talking." You said, poking his biceps. Tennis academy did him good.

You had never thought about it before, but that one year apart and your reunion woke something in you up. Patrick Zweig was hot. You didn't know, but that same part of his own brain ignited. The whole night you two still talked as normal, still giggled over stories and swapped gifts. He got you a necklace made from your favorite metal, a tiny but intricate tennis racket charm hanging on the bottom. It was simple, but it was so precious.

"So I can be with you more than once a year." He explained, and you couldn't help yourself when you pulled him into the biggest hug you could manage. It was the most heartwarming gift you had ever gotten. And it made you laugh too, especially when you reached over to give him his gift.

When he opened it, his eyes widened and laughed, picking up the simple silver chain bracelet with a tiny charm of your initial on it. You were a little nervous to give it to him, worried it seemed too couple-y of a gift instead of something you'd give a friend, but now that anxiety had gone. He put it on immediately, and you were so grateful that he didn't think it was too girly or soft for him to wear. Patrick Zweig could be crude and perverted (something you realized when he let slip the way he looked at some girls back at the academy), but he wasn't insecure. Not in that way, at least.

You sat a little closer together that year, knees brushing as you caught up. Art was still his best friend and you two made plans for how you could meet. You were still singing, the Christmas time performance of yours now a yearly tradition. He was still never able to come, but he promised one day he would. The other kids were now too old to come to his house, off at college dorm parties, some even old enough to be already married and having Christmas parties of their own. The living room was much more quiet for the two of you but it's not like you ever noticed them much before. The one true new addition was the cigarette that now dangled from his lips. You had initally scolded him for the new habit but it didn't take long for it to be passed between the two of you as you spoke. You did your best to not think about how it had touched his lips and then would touch yours.

When graduation came around and it was finally time to go off to college yourself, your heart sank a little. College meant you two would be too busy with your own lives to come back, and your parents already weren't too committed to dragging you along with them to their events anymore. When you sat by the fireplace for that final year, you found you had less to talk about. Life felt pretty slow for you, especially with your lack of real friends. It was the same deal every year. School, choir, then independent vocal lessons, then horseback riding, then the youth advisory board, then tutoring. Your days were all a countdown to Christmas, the one day of the year you weren't some busy prodigal daughter with too many responsibilities on your shoulders, but Patrick Zweig's best friend. That was the only thing expected of you.

Maybe not in the way Art Donaldson was, but you were his best friend. He was the love of your life, you were sure of it.

He asked about your plans for school, and you said you'd probably go to Julliard if you got accepted. You were being humble, of course. You got your acceptance letter months ago. Patrick, not knowing that, assured you that you would. "They'd be stupid to not let you in." He smiled, cigarette balancing between his teeth and his bottom lip. You nudged your shoulder against his, thanking him for the vote of confidence. When it was your turn to ask him, he shrugged.

"Ah, I dunno." He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth, away from you. Patrick sat, thinking to himself for a moment before turning to face you. "I've been thinking about it, and... I don't think I'm gonna go." He shrugged again, and your eyebrows pulled back in surprise. "Do your parents know that?" You asked, knowing they'd never allow him. The Zweigs loved boasting about how Patrick was going to continue the family name. Tennis might be his gift, but they expected him to finally grow up and be an adult, not a tennis player.

He shook his head, turning back to the fire crackling before you. "Fuck them," he whispered with a smirk. "I'm gonna go pro. Play at challengers and shit until I rank for the bigger stuff. Play at Wimbledon or the Olympics or something. Don't wanna risk an injury at some school before I can even do anything real, you know?"

You nod your head, understanding. It made sense for him, you just were worried about how his parents would react.

"Art's gonna go to Stanford." He said, lips a little downturned at the mention. "He wants a safety net, I guess. I don't really know." He blows another puff of smoke, handing the cigarette over to you. Then he turns to you again, chuckling a little humorlessly. "Gas is gonna be a bitch, going from California to New York."

"What do you mean?"

"Going back and forth to see you and Art." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, shocked you even asked. "Guess I could fly," Patrick thought to himself, thinking over the logistics of it, then seemingly deciding it would work. "Worth it."

Your chest constricted a little at the thought of him going through all of that just to see you. You insisted that he didn't have to, that you'd gladly fly over to see him instead of the other way around, but he persisted. "You'll have school and friends and shit. I'll have plenty of time to come over. Plus, you know, phones exist." He teased.

Patrick was right. They did, of course. For some reason, though, you two never called. Never even thought about it. It was a little nonsensical and you laughed, and he joined. You promised that you'd start calling him, and he promised you the same thing.

When you hugged him before you had to leave, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Patrick."

He grinned, cheeks warming and turning pink. "I'm Jewish." He laughed, giving you a final hug. "Merry Christmas."

--(x)-- 2010 --(x)--

Graduation night at Alice Tully Hall was intense.

Four years had gone by in a flash and it was already the last week of May-- actually, it was already the end of graduation itself. Your cap was on your head and diploma in hand, the other one busy shaking the hands of the few late family and family friends that had come over to congratulate you. You were exhausted, both from the four years and from the night. All you wanted was to go to your apartment, flop onto your bed face first, and sleep the night away.

You had spent almost the entire celebration biting your nails and scanning the hall for the two pairs of eyes and smiles you wanted to see the most. When your name got called and you walked up on the stage, and your mother cried in the crowd like the night of your first concert, and your father gave you the same, unattached nod that was the closest he could get to saying he was proud of you. Patrick had told you he was gonna be late, just having finished a challenger in Philidelphia the same day. You just didn't think late meant missing the ceramony entirely.

Patrick was sitting in thick New York City traffic, banging his fist on his steering wheel, yelling at the car next to him. Art was in the passenger's seat, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You fucking moron! Dumb fucking cunt! You know how much this is gonna cost!?" Patrick yelled, pointing to the driver's door that now had a dent in it. The traffic was so heavy he couldn't move, and he didn't want to get out in case it budged. He knew he was late, and now some guy in a truck, in a fucking truck in New York City, had just bumped into the side of Patrick's car. The dent wasn't anything that would permanently damage the car, but it was pretty nasty. "Who taught your to drive?" He yelled, almost leaning fully out of the window now. Art reached over to pull at the back of his shirt, trying to get him back in. "Are you blind!? We're in the middle of traffic and you still managed to hit me?"

"Christ, Patrick, get back in the fucking car!"

Patrick swatted his hand away. "My best friend is graduating and now I gotta pick her up with this shit on my car. What's your insurance!? I'm gonna sue the shit out of you!"

Cars started beeping at him and the driver in the truck was yelling back just as colorfully. "That piece of dog shit almost looks better with it! You should be fucking thanking me, asshole. Maybe your insurance will give you a better car!"

"A better car!?" Patrick was red in the face. "Why don't you let me return the favor then!"

"Oh, shit." Art was scrambling over the center console to really pull him back, knowing it was seconds away from getting violent.

--(x)--

You were leaning against the front doors playing with the tennis racket necklace you had never taken off when you got a call from Art. You had gotten it from him the first time you met him freshman year, it being the one connection you had to each other for the whole school year. He had become a really close friend of yours, even through he grainy speakers of your phone. You picked it up eagerly, the first thing you could hear being angry beeping in the background and a voice that sounded like Patrick yelling.

"Art? Where are you guys? What's going on?"

"Oh my god," Art said your name, a little frantic. "Okay, so, uh, we're running late, I know-" there's some shuffling you can hear, and you cut in. "The ceremony is already over." You tell them, a little disappointed. Art frowns but his attention is pulled back to the situation at hand.

"Congrats on graduating! Um, anyways, I called cause Patrick's kinda losing his shit right now. Some guy hit his car--"

"Oh my god! Are you guys alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. It's just a dent. But now the two are in the middle of the street and Patrick's getting his ass kicked." He sounds nervous, because of course he is. His best friend is catching fists to the face. "I tried to help..." Art continues, and his hand goes back up to touch the future black eye he's now sporting. "But, um, I just wanted to let you know that I don't think we'll make it over-"

In the background, Patrick interrupts, managing to gather the strength to push the giant man from on top of him. "Oh, we're making it!" He yells out loud enough that you can just hear it over the speaker, then throws another punch at the guy's jaw. Patrick's nose was bleeding and his eyebrow was cut, and the other guy wasn't looking all that great either. He spat at the guy, adding "You made me miss her graduation." with another punch.

The cars around them suddenly started move, and the two friends froze. Traffic was moving again. The guy got another good punch onto Patrick before he was able to scramble up and run back to his car, yelling at Art to start driving before the guy caught up.

They finally got to Lincoln Center looking like a pair of hot messes and you spent the weekend in your apartment with them sleeping over, caring for their cuts and bruises and catching up, smoking out your apartment window. It was the best weekend you'd had in years.

--(x)-- 2019 --(x)--

The crowd cheering was deafening, and the spotlight was blinding. Nonetheless, you took a bow, thanking the audience for the night. Your hand reached out to the orchestra and another round of applause boomed. Nobody could smile bigger than your were. No one could beat the butterflies in your stomach.

It was the week before Christmas, and just like you had since you were 12, you were performing a concert. This time however it wasn't on a small stage at a theater in your hometown, but at Alice Tully Hall in New York City, the same hall you had graduated in nine years ago.

The lights dimmed and that was your cue to leave, first excitingly hugging the musicians who played so beautifully that night. You thanked them all, wished them a happy holiday, and walked off stage. Waiting for you, as always, stood Patrick Zweig.

The years had done him well. Tennis kept him built like a marble statue, age refined his features, and his own laziness left the slightly auburn stubble on his cheeks to grow out. He was wearing the one tux he still owned, slightly tight around the arms and legs as he outgrew it.

Patrick had long cut contact with his parents, becoming financially independent (much to the dismay of his bank account), and no longer had to deal with the constant phone calls about how he was letting down the Zweig name with his tennis career. The days of them bragging about his talent were long gone, it was meant to be a hobby, not a career. Who was going to take over the Zweig family business now? He couldn't give less of a fuck. His designer wardrobe slowly sold off to pay for all the gas he consumed driving from matches to his best friends throughout the years, shedding his past with every article of clothing.

Patrick made sure to never repeat the same mistake as your graduation. At every event, he was there. Early, if possible. Never joining tournaments or challengers held on the same day as important events like tonight, not that there really were any on Christmas Eve. He made sure to make up for all the time you weren't together growing up.

Patrick held a bunch of roses in his hands for you as you approached, enveloping him in a hug. "Flowers are from the three of us." He spoke into your hair, referring to him, Art, and Art's wife Tashi. Free hand wrapping around your shoulder to squeeze you back with equal amounts of love. "Lily even made you a card. You were incredible, like always. Incredible."

You smiled up at him, kissing his cheek before hugging again. When you pull back, you look around him for the aforementioned Donaldsons. "They're waiting for Art to finish pissing. Whole night he kept complaining, drank too much water on the ride here but idiot didn't want to get up in the middle of your show and go." He chuckled, handing you the bouquet. You loop your arm into his, the feeling of him grounding you after the intense rush of adrenaline and emotions that came with performing to such a large audience or such a special night. Walking out into the main hall together, a couple people greet and shake your hand, some asking for pictures. A person even recognized Patrick, which was quite uncommon with his career now dwindling down an unfortunate and unsuccessful path (You were sure any day now he was gonna pick back up and climb the ranking again. You made sure to tell him after every match).

The two of you leaned against a wall as the attention died down and people began going home. In your heels, you were tall enough to rest your head comfortable on Patrick's shoulder. He smiled at the gesture, leaning his head on yours. Closing your eyes, you took in the whole night. The fading adrenaline, the sweat that gathered on your forehead drying, the sound of the crowd getting quieter by the second. The material of Patrick's tux on your cheek and ear, his steady and relaxed breathing, the warmth of his embrace, the musky cologne he had been using since he was a teenager.

Patrick enjoyed the moments alone he had with you. He wasn't Patrick Zweig the failed heir to the Zweig throne just like how he was a failed tennis player. He was Patrick Zweig, your best friend. That was the only thing expected of him.

Longer than Art Donaldson ever was. You were the love of his life, he was sure of it.

He inhaled the scent of your hair and your perfume, arm wrapped around your shoulder as his thumb rubbed comforting circles on it. When he closed his eyes, he replayed how you looked on the stage while you sang. You were as beautiful as your voice. Always had been, always will be. Every performance of yours took him back to when things were much simpler, when he'd watch you by their otherwise untouched piano at formal dinners and you'd sing a Sinatra song for the parents. He could almost taste the roasted chicken, almost feel the silverware in his hands.

Your hand reached up to your chest and your fingers played with the little tennis racket charm, a habit you'd had for years. Patrick loved knowing you kept the necklace on after all this time, even on nights like this where you could've replaced it with something much more grand and expensive.

He had never taken his bracelet off. Even in the brief relationships or hookups he'd have and partners would question what the initial stood for. He'd never answer, just tell them it was important to him.

You opened your eyes again when the sound of little feet in little shoes click-clacked on the tile floor towards you, your name exclaimed from eager lips. Lily bounded up to you, her honerary aunt, and wrapped her arms around your waist. Art and Tashi followed behind her.

Lily pulled back from the hug, looking up at you. "You were like a superstar!" She beamed, one of her front teeth missing. You hug Art and Tashi who compliment your dress and your performance before leaving with them to the dinner reservation you all had, Patrick's arm still around your shoulder as you walked.

At dinner, through mouthfulls of spaghetti, Lily asked you constant questions about what it's like to sing and be on stage. You answered every single one, and at the end of her little interview she made an announcement. "When I grow up I wanna be a tennis player like mommy and daddy," she started, Tashi scolding her to stop talking while she's eating as she wiped with a napkin at the corners of her daughter's mouth. Art's bottom lip jutted out in a little pout, melting in the hands of his daughter. "But, I wanna be a singer-tennis player. So I can wear pretty dresses like you."

You laugh, coming to Tashi's defense. "Your mom wears gorgeous dresses, Lily."

"Yeah, but she doesn't wear them on a stage. I wanna do that."

Point proved, you shrug. Patrick turns to look at you as he's sitting directly beside you. He doesn't say anything, just admires you under the dim and moody lighting of the resteraunt as you talk with Lily, resting his chin in his hand and smiling into his palm. Art and Tashi share a knowing look.

The night decidingly comes to an end when the couple announces they need to put Lily to bed.

"I'm not twenty anymore," Tashi says, handing the bill to the waiting server. "I knock out at ten P.M."

Patrick drove you home like you agreed, and it was assumed he'd stay the night like he often did on your couch. As you changed into more comfortable clothes in your room, he grabbed his own clothes from the trunk of his car and changed in your bathroom. Afterward, he silently observed as you washed off your makeup and took down your hair from its simple updo. It felt domestic. It felt like something a boyfriend does with his girlfriend after a long day. Patrick let himself pretend for a moment that that's exactly what was happening.

When you were done the two of you sat on the couch and cuddled, debating on what movie to wind down to as you settled into his arms as he laid his head against the arm rest.

"Home Alone?" You ask, grabbing the remote and flicking through the options. He shook his head.

"Watched that with Art and Lily just last week. What about Elf?"

You agree, and the movie begins to play. The volume's low and you spend more time talking to each other than actually watching, one of your hands on the arm wrapped around your chest scratching up and down and the other resting on your stomach. Patrick's hand on your chest toyed with your necklace while the other arm rested on your head, lazily scratching as you watched and talked. Neither of you realized when you both fell asleep there.

The sun rising through your window wakes you up, the light bright against your eyelids. You shifted a little, lifting your head but keeping your eyes closed. The first thing your senses picked up on was the warm body of Patrick underneath you, steady rising and falling breaths and the lignering scent of the cologne he applied yesterday still faintly on his skin. His hands were still on your chest and head when you woke up, sliding off when you moved to look at him.

The stresses of adulthood were almost undetectable on his face. Patrick had the same freckles littering his skin that he had as a kid, and you used to tell him that in a crowd of identical people you'd be able to pick him out just by the freckles on his waterline. Did that make sense? Probably not, but it did when you were fourteen. You didn't really care, to be honest, just wanting him to open his eyes so you could see the freckles there again.

As if he could hear your thoughts, his eyelashed fluttered before opening. The first thing he saw was you.

Like an angel. His tired brain though for a moment he died and went to heaven.

"Goodmorning." He rasped, morning voice deep and scratchy. You smiled, looking out the window at the falling snow. "Merry Christmas." You say instead. "I'm Jewish," He chuckled, a hand raising to brush a strand of hair from your face before whispering "Merry Christmas" back. He said the same thing every year.

You stayed silent like that, laying on his chest and just staring at him as he played with your hair. There was some sort of unsaid agreement between the two of you, something your souls communicated with each other without your knowlage as you slept. Patrick felt like his heart could stop at any moment with how etheral you felt.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asked, breaking the quiet in the room and whispering it like a secret.

Your eyes moved from his to his lips, and at the action his tongue darted out to lick them. It felt like the 21 years you had been best friends slipped away from your fingers and had gone. Time was gone. Reason was gone. The only thing left in the entire world was you, him, and the couch. You knew what you wanted. You had wanted it since you were sixteen. He's sure he's wanted it since the creation of his soul.

His hand moved from your hair to your jaw, both of you slightly breathless, eyes on the other's lips. His calloused hands told you, you weren't dreaming despire how hazy reality felt. His breath on your lips told you, you were still alive despite how heaven-like reality felt.

Patrick leaned in, his nose rubbing on yours and your foreheads touching, lips mere centimeters apart, eyes barely open. His best friend. His soulmate. He was never whole when he wasn't around you.

He kissed you on Christmas morning, the charm of your inital on his bracelet tickling your shoulder, the tennis racket on your necklace resting on his chest.

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