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hauntsoul · 2 months ago

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— Beneath the Spotlight.

SYNOPSIS: You, a devoted fan, are thrilled when Park Sunghoon, a famous idol, slips a secret note into your pocket at his fan meeting. But as the days pass, you start to wonder if his fleeting attention was ever meant to last.

GENRE: 18+ (minors dni), toxic, angst, little fluff.

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

PAIRING: idol!sunghoon x obsessedfan!reader (sunghoon is pretty toxic)

WARNING: toxic dynamic, oral (f. receiving), fingering, overstimulation, no protection, bathing together, phone sex?, masturbation (f), choking, creampie, reader has no self respect. halfway through is not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: hello! this is my first ever post so i hope you all will enjoy it. this is actually based off a manga i read a while ago, so full inspiration from there. i hope you all love the story. <3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Park Sunghoon.

A name that tastes like honey on your tongue.

A name that echoes in your mind, sending you through spirals.

A name you’ve engraved into your heart.

His face dominates your world. His posters cover every inch of your walls, his piercing gaze watching you wherever you go. Your lockscreen? A candid shot from his last concert, sweat dripping down his jawline, his expression so intimidating it feels intimate. His voice? It fills every moment of silence, every song on your playlist filled with his songs, his melodic tone.

You’re obsessed. Not the dangerous kind, not yet, but close enough to feel the lines blur. You know him better than you know yourself, or so you tell yourself. For three years, you’ve followed his journey. From him starting his path on the ice rink, his movements elegant, to the idol on many global stages, with millions of fans following him. Including you of course.

Currently, he stands in front of you. Well, in front of thousands. The stage lights catch every angle of his sharp features, making him appear almost otherworldly. The microphone amplifies his voice: smooth, melodic, and commanding, as he speaks to the audience.

You’ve been to countless fan meetings before, how could you ever miss one? But no matter how many times you see him, the sight of Park Sunghoon always leaves you fascinated.

He smiles as he talks about the little things, the cheery moments he shared with his family during his break. The crowd laughs, cheers, and some even shout desperate attempts to catch his attention. And he rewards them with a polite smile, a small nod, or a fleeting glance.

But to you, every gesture from him gives you butterflies. His black hair falls effortlessly into place, framing his flawless face. His piercing eyes scan the crowd, and even though they never land on you, it feels like they do. The tiny mole near his eye, the way he smiles, it’s all too perfect, too intoxicating.

You can’t stop staring. You can’t look away.

"Now, it’s the fun part!” Sunghoon exclaims, his voice sparking excitement through the crowd.

The audience buzzes with anticipation, murmurs spreading around rapidly. Fun part? Your stomach tightens, a mix of curiosity and hope swirling inside you.

The stage lights brighten as staff members hurry onto the platform, carrying a small table with a large glass bowl resting on top. Sunghoon steps forward, his presence catching everyone’s attention.

“In this bowl,” he announces, his voice smooth and teasing, “are slips with seat numbers. If I pick your number, you’ll get the lucky chance to come on stage and take a photo with me.”

The crowd explodes into cheers and screams, the energy palpable. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Could it be you? Out of thousands of people, could you really be the one?

Sunghoon dips his hand into the bowl, the motion slow and deliberate. Your breath catches as you watch his fingers swirl through the slips of paper, your body tense. The air feels heavy, and every second stretches longer than it should.

Finally, he pulls out a slip, holding it between his fingers like it holds the secrets of the universe. The audience hushes, a sharp silence falling over the room. Your palms are clammy, and you press them against your thighs.

“B14!”

Gasps ripple through the crowd as heads twist, scanning for the lucky winner. You glance down at the back of your seat, where “G25” is engraved, and disappointment sinks in. Not you.

“It seems like B14 isn’t here,” Sunghoon remarks, his tone light. He reaches back into the bowl, his hand swirling through the papers again.

Your heart races faster, the hope creeping back in. Your fingers clutch the armrests, nails digging into the fabric. Time slows as he pulls out another slip, unfolding it with a teasing smile.

“G25.”

Your heart stops. For a moment, the world seems to blur, the only thing you hear is the pounding of your pulse.

Your seat number.

Your heart thunders wildly in your chest. You’re going to be up close with Park Sunghoon.

Slowly, you rise from your seat, your knees shaky, the weight of thousands of eyes falling on you. But it doesn’t matter, not when his eyes find yours. For a brief moment, Sunghoon stares, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that makes your breath hitch. The corner of his lips curls into a slow, deliberate smirk. He lifts a finger, motioning for you to come on stage.

And you do.

Each step toward him feels surreal, like you’re walking through a dream. The bright stage lights blind you for a second, but then you see him. Right in front of you. Closer than you’ve ever imagined.

He’s perfect… no, more than perfect. Up close, he seems almost unreal, his features sharper. The crowd murmurs, some fans letting out squeals of excitement, but all you can focus on is him.

Sunghoon extends a hand, his fingers long and steady. Tentatively, you place yours in his. His palm is warm, his grip firm, and it swallows yours completely. With a gentle tug, he pulls you closer, so close you can feel his breath ghost against your skin.

Then, he wraps his arms around you.

Your heart threatens to burst as he holds you, his embrace firm yet careful, like he knows exactly what this moment means to you. His scent: fresh and intoxicating, fills your senses, and for a second, the world disappears. You don’t want to move. You don’t want this to end.

A camera flashes, and Sunghoon tilts his head toward you, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Look at the camera, princess.” he whispers, his voice low, sending shivers down your spine.

You glance up, dazed, and meet his smirking gaze as the camera captures the moment.

You plaster a smile on your face as the cameras flash, capturing the moment that feels too perfect to be real. But then, you feel it; a subtle movement, his hand slipping into your pocket. Your heart skips a beat. Did he just…?

You turn your head slightly to look at him, confusion flickering in your eyes. Sunghoon doesn’t say a word, only meeting your gaze with a soft, knowing smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes your knees weak.

Your heart flutters, the moment feeling surreal, almost too good to be true. His closeness, the way his presence dominates everything else, leaves you breathless. But as quickly as it began, it’s over.

The staff gestures for you to step down, and disappointment washes over you like a cold wave. You force yourself to walk off the stage, each step feeling heavier as the distance between you and Sunghoon grows. Your chest tightens as you return to your seat, the memory of his warmth already fading.

But still, you smile faintly to yourself. You got a picture with Park Sunghoon, not just a picture, the picture. His arms were around you, holding you like you mattered, even for a fleeting moment.

As you settle back into your seat, a strange sensation tugs at your memory. The pocket.

Your hand shoots down to check, your fingers brushing against a small slip of paper. Pulling it out, your breath catches. Written in messy handwriting are the words:

“Call me. +0 xxxx xxxxx xxx”

Your heart stops, the paper trembling in your hands. You glance up at the stage, where Sunghoon continues to smile and interact with the crowd, as if nothing had happened.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed, clutching the small slip of paper in your trembling hand. Your eyes scan the number over and over, your thoughts racing uncontrollably. Is this a joke? Why would he do this?

Your heart pounds in your chest as doubt creeps in. Was he just playing with you? Or could this really be real?

Your other hand hesitates as it slips into your pocket and pulls out your phone. The paper crinkles softly in your grasp as you stare at the digits, debating with yourself. But before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers move almost instinctively, typing the number into your contacts.

You pause. Your thumb hovers over the screen for a long moment before you finally gather the courage to send a single message:

“hello?”

The moment the message delivers, you throw your phone onto the bed, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest. You bury your face in your hands, convinced this is all some elaborate prank. Maybe he does this at every fan meeting. Maybe—

Your phone buzzes.

The sound jolts you, and your head snaps up. Your breathing falters as you reach for the screen, hands shaking slightly. With a swipe, the notification pops up:

“hello princess.”

Your heart freezes. The room feels smaller, like the air’s been sucked out of it. Staring at the message, you feeling your heart beat rapidly.

It wasn’t a prank. It was real.

And Sunghoon had just texted you.

“R u real..?” you type, your hands trembling as you hit send.

The response comes almost instantly, as if he was waiting for you.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I put my number in your pocket, after all.”

You stare at the screen, biting your lip. The words feel surreal, like something straight out of a dream or maybe a cruel joke. You sigh, still unable to shake the doubt crawling through your mind.

Before you can respond, another message pops up:

“By the way, I told you to call me, not text me.”

“So call me.”

Your heart races, the pounding in your ears almost drowning out everything else. For a moment, you just sit there, staring at the screen.

Could this really be happening?

Your thumb hovers over the call button, hesitation gripping you. But the curiosity, the chance that this might be real, pushes you forward.

With a deep breath, you press it.

The phone rings twice. Just twice.

Then, the other line picks up.

Your heart stops as silence falls between you, your hand gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turn white. You stay quiet, your mind scrambling for what to say, still half-convinced this is some elaborate prank.

But then you hear it:

“Are you gonna speak to me?” His voice is smooth, teasing yet commanding, the kind that makes your chest tighten.

It’s really him. You’re actually talking to the real Park Sunghoon.

“H-Hello…” you manage to stutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckles softly on the other end, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “You sound nervous, princess. Didn’t I tell you to call me? And here you are, all shy now.”

“I-I just didn’t know if it was really you…” you admit, your words tumbling out awkwardly.

“You doubted me?” he asks, his tone light but with a faint edge of amusement. “Do you think I go around giving random fans my number?”

“No! I just—” you stammer, but he cuts you off."

"Relax,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, more serious now. “I wouldn’t waste my time playing games like that. If I put my number in your pocket, it’s because I wanted you to use it.”

The way he says it... so certain, makes your heart race even faster.

“O-Okay…” you stutter, unsure of what else to say.

“Good.” He pauses, and you hear the faint sound of him shifting, like he’s getting comfortable.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of confusion and excitement talking to him.

"I’m sorry, but I just want to know… why did you want me to have your number?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly, unsure of how to phrase it. "I mean… isn’t this kind of dangerous for your reputation?"

He laughs, the sound low and rich, like it’s just for you. "Anything’s worth a risk if it’s with a pretty girl like you."

The words hit you like a wave. Pretty. Park Sunghoon just called you pretty. Your heart flutters uncontrollably, a rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. You can almost feel the heat spreading across your face as your mind tries to catch up with his words.

"Y-You think I’m pretty?" You manage to ask, barely able to form a coherent sentence.

"Did you think I was just playing around?" He pauses, a smirk evident in his voice. "I don’t give out my number to just anyone, princess. I gave it to you because I wanted to."

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath. The idea of him wanting you feels almost impossible, but his confidence, his voice, so sure of itself, makes it feel like nothing could be truer.

"You’re still quiet," he adds, his voice dropping lower. "You’re shy, aren’t you?"

"I’m not shy," you lie, but even you can hear the hesitation in your voice.

"Mm, sure you’re not." He laughs again, but this time, it feels more teasing, like he’s enjoying every bit of your nervousness. "You’re just nervous because you know I’m real. You can hear my voice, feel the heat between us already. Don’t tell me it doesn’t make you want me, too."

Your breath catches. The way he speaks, so sure of himself, like he already knows everything about you, makes your pulse spike. "I… I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper. "Just listen, and let me show you how real this is."

Your heart beats faster, the line between fantasy and reality blurring with every word he speaks.

"Just admit it," he continues, his tone turning more seductive. "You wanted this. You wanted me to notice you. And now I have."

You can barely breathe, his words echoing in your mind. "I… I didn’t think it would be like this."

"Of course, you didn’t," he says, his voice full of confidence. "But now that we’re here, don’t pretend you’re not enjoying it. Don’t pretend you don’t want more."

You bite your lip, your thoughts racing. How could you want anything else? He made it clear that he was interested in you, and the idea of it is too thrilling to ignore.

"Tell me," he presses, his voice low and husky, "do you want more?"

Your heart stops at the question. But the truth is, you don’t even have to think about it. "Yes." The word slips out before you can stop it.

"Yeah, princess?" His voice is a low, teasing drawl, almost like he's savoring every moment.

You can feel your breath hitching, your nerves on edge, unable to believe this is really happening. Just a few hours ago, you were in the crowd, just another face in the sea of fans, and now your here, getting wet while he's on the other line.

You couldn't help it. The way he teased you, the tone of his voice, dominant and authoritative. You could feel your panties grow increasingly wet the more he talked to you.

You needed him, and you wanted him to know that.

"Sunghoon.." you murmur as you slowly slide your hand underneath your underwear, your fingers feeling your aching clit.

"Mm, I'm listening princess. I know what you want." His voice gets raspy, which only led to you to rub your clit in a faster pace. God, it felt so good. This wasn't the first time you've touched yourself to Sunghoon.

But this was different, he could hear you. He could hear your light whimpers as you rubbed your clit to his voice. You imagined his large veiny hands slowly going down on your aching wet cunt and fingering you till you couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly, he hangs up the phone.

You stare at your phone screen, wide-eyed and in disbelief. The call abruptly ends, leaving you in the sudden silence. Your heart pounds, a mix of confusion and frustration clouding your thoughts. Was that it? Did he just... hang up?

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to move. You stare at the blank screen, hoping he might call back. Maybe it was an accident, right? Maybe he had to go. But as the seconds tick by, you feel your disappointment kicking in.

You clutch your phone tighter, trying to calm your racing mind. Was he playing with you? Why would he do that? You thought everything was going well. But now... there’s only silence, and it makes your thoughts spiral.

"Did I do something wrong?" you whisper to yourself, unsure if you even want an answer.

Minutes pass. You’re about to convince yourself that it was all a mistake when your phone buzzes suddenly, breaking the silence.

It's a message from Sunghoon.

When you click on the notification, your shocked to see that it wasn't a message he sent, but a location.

Your pulse quickens as your eyes scan the address. It’s a motel, not too far from where you live. The realization hits you like a cold wave, leaving you both excited and nervous at once. What was he thinking? Why here?

You stare at the screen, your heart racing as your fingers hover over the keys. Is this real? You ask yourself.

But before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself typing a response, your mind still whirling.

"I’m on my way."

The ride to the motel feels like it takes forever, your thoughts bouncing between excitement and anxiety. You keep imagining what will happen when you get there, what he’ll say, what you’ll do. Your hands are clammy, your stomach doing flips with each passing minute.

Finally, you arrive, the dim lights of the motel casting long shadows over the parking lot. The nerves in your body are almost overwhelming, and yet, you feel a magnetic pull urging you forward.

You take a deep breath and step out of your car, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Every step feels heavy as you walk toward the entrance. Your heart beats faster with each step closer to the room.

You reach the door, and before you can even knock, it swings open.

There he is. Park Sunghoon. Standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. His eyes meet yours, and in that moment, the world around you seems to disappear.

"Come in," he says, his voice calm but holding an intensity that makes your pulse race.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should take the step forward, but his gaze holds you in place, pulling you in. You don’t say a word as you walk into the room, your breath shallow, your body tense with anticipation.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and you’re left standing there, face-to-face with him.

As you step into the dimly lit room, the door softly closing behind you, the air shifts. The space feels smaller somehow, as if the weight of what’s about to happen is pressing in around you. Sunghoon stands in the center of the room, looking at you with that familiar intensity, his eyes dark yet filled with something more.

He doesn’t speak at first, just watches you with a quiet sort of patience, as if giving you time to adjust to the moment. Your heart races, and you feel the familiar flutter of nerves settle deep in your stomach.

“Come here,” he says, his voice low, coaxing.

You hesitate for a moment, the air thick with the unspoken tension. You know what he wants, but there’s still something inside you that holds back, unsure of whether you should take that next step. But Sunghoon doesn’t wait for you to make up your mind. With a few slow steps, he closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

His touch is soft but firm, as if he’s grounding you, and you can’t help but lean into it. His thumb brushes over your skin in slow, soothing circles, and the tension between you builds, an electric current crackling in the space around you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his words so quiet you almost think you imagined them. But you didn’t. His eyes never leave yours, studying every flicker of emotion that crosses your face, as if he’s searching for something, something to pull him closer.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening at his words, feeling like they hold more weight than they should. There’s something in the way he says it, the way his voice dips, just turns you on.

The space between you seems to disappear in an instant, and Sunghoon leans in just enough to rest his forehead against yours. The proximity makes your breath catch in your throat, the tension between you almost suffocating, but at the same time, you can’t tear yourself away.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both of you just breathing in the same air, letting the silence stretch between you, heavy with anticipation. You feel like you’re on the edge of something, but you’re not sure what that something is yet.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just want to be close to you.”

Before you can react, Sunghoon tilts his head just slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead in a light, lingering kiss. His breath is warm against your skin, and the softness of his kiss sends a flutter through you. It’s gentle, but the weight of it makes your chest tighten, a quiet but undeniable ache building inside you.

When he pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes again, you can see it in his gaze, he wants you right now.

It’s your turn now, and without thinking, you close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a rough, intense kiss. It’s everything—the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer with a quiet urgency. The kiss deepens, his tongue making way into your mouth. His free hand makes it's way under your shirt, as he manages to unclasp your bra easily.

You pull away from the kiss, looking at his piercing eyes. Sunghoon breathes slowly, staring right you with a smirk on his face. And just like a flash, you could feel him roughly pull up your shirt, causing your bra to fall in the process. Now you stood completely topless infront of him.

He stared at your delicate breasts, before lowering himself to lick your hard nipple. You bite your lips to hold back a whimper that dared to escape. He looked so fucking good. His eyes wander back up at yours before he latched his mouth on your entire nipple, sucking softly. You could feel yourself grow wet at his actions as you whimpered softly at the gentle pleasure Sunghoon was giving you. He slowly pulls away and gives small kisses to your breast before trailing it down your stomach.

"You're so fucking pretty. I need to taste that pussy princess." Sunghoon whispers before pulling down your skirt, revealing the cute pink lacy panties you wore, just for him.

He smirks at the sight of them, your stomach churned in embarrassment as he slowly pulled down your panties, a trail of your wetness sticking onto the pantie as it went down.

Sunghoon almost drools at the sight of your wet pussy. All you guys did was just kiss and yet your already this turned on? He felt himself getting hard just at the mere sight of you being this pathetic. He pushes you lightly against the wall, making you lean on it before spreading your legs slightly more open. Your whole pussy is now in clear view infront of him and the scent of your cunt is driving him crazy.

His lips make contact with the plush of your inner thighs, planting small kisses in different spots. His teasing only further driving you crazy and more needy. You let out a breathy whisper saying his name, and he just smirks while looking up at you.

His hands hold your thighs apart while he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy lips, giving your clit more space. He brings his mouth closer to your cunt before licking a small stripe from your leaking hole to your clit, spreading your wetness alll over. That action alone leaves your stomach churning. His tongue starts to give your clit small kitty licks.

"Mpmh, oh.. fuck-" you whimper as you bite your lip to prevent any more noises from leaving your mouth.

Feeling riled up, Sunghoon starts to suck on your clit. His eyes never leaving yours, staring at you while his tongue works wonders. Your fingers fists his hair as he slowly brings his fingers up to cunt, inserting a finger in. You tug his hair harder at the sudden feeling of his long finger inside you, making him moan into your wet cunt. Your moans can't stop leaving past your lips, this only motivates Sunghoon to insert another finger inside, thrusting them at a quick pace.

"It's so fucking good Hoon!-" You cry out loud, his thick fingers feeling inside your warm walls, already having you see clouds.

“Taking it like such a good girl..” he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice stimulating your clit even further.

You could feel your stomach forming a knot, it was too intense. Your legs feeling weak and the only support being Sunghoon's hands that are gripping your thighs tightly. You couldn't take it anymore.

"H-Hoon- 'm close!" You babble out. Sunghoon continues to curl his fingers inside you at an even faster pace, his tongue pressed hardly against your clit making an '8' motion. The knot becomes too tight, and you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You finally let loose, letting your orgasm wash over you. Your legs begin to tremble as you grip Sunghoon's hair so tight, you almost felt like you were about to rip some of it off his hair. His tongue and fingers slowed down a little, helping you ride off your orgasm. You take heavy breaths, looking at him as he just smiles before starting to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace.

"Hoon- I can't take it-" Your choke out your cries as now he starts to overstimulate your cunt. Your legs start to shiver and kick around gently, trying to get him off your pussy.

"Be a good girl and stay still." His voice, raspy and dominant. He only looks up at you with a smirk as his fingers ram in and out of you, making you feel the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach again.

Not even two minutes had passed by since your first orgasm, and your already feeling your second orgasm wanting to unleash all over his fingers. Sunghoon curls his fingers, directly feeling your g-spot which sends you over the moon. And with that, you squirt all over his fingers. Making a sticky mess from your cunt to his fingers to the floor.

You look at him, still in a daze, your heart pounding relentlessly inside your chest. You were nervous—really nervous. You hadn’t done anything like this in forever, and now… with Park Sunghoon? The thought sent your mind spiraling as a bead of sweat trickled down your temple.

He seemed to sense your hesitation, his sharp gaze softening just enough to catch your unease. Without a word, his hand moved, fingers still dirty with your cum, and cupped your cheek.

“Let’s take a bath together, yeah?” His voice dropped, low and smooth. His lips curved into a faint smile. “We can’t have you all tensed up here.”

Before you could gather your thoughts, he straightened, turning with an almost lazy confidence as he headed toward the bathroom.

The warm water sunk you, soothing your tense muscles as you leaned back against the tub. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a single light above the sink. You ran your fingers absentmindedly along the surface of the water, thinking about him.

A soft knock at the bathroom door startled you.

“You decent?” Sunghoon’s familiar voice called out, teasing but warm.

You managed a nervous chuckle, “We’re way past that, don’t you think?”

The door creaked open, and there he was, his dark hair slightly damp from the steam, clinging to his forehead, his eyes catching the soft light. Without saying a word, he stepped into the room, letting his towel drop with casual ease.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks flushing as the sound of water shifted behind you. You felt the weight of him stepping into the tub, the water level rising as he sank in across from you.

The space between you felt both small and vast, the soft lapping of water, the quiet hum of his breathing. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging comfortably in the air.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said, his voice low.

“I just…” You paused, searching for words. “I’m still trying to process all this. It feels… surreal.”

He leaned back against the edge of the tub, his dark eyes studying you. “I get that. Believe me, I do.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the sudden seriousness in his tone. “Do you?”

“More than you think.” He let out a soft sigh, his gaze dropping to the water. “People always see me as… well, him. The idol. The perfect image. The untouchable Sunghoon.” His lips twitched into a bitter smile. “But that’s not who I am. Not really.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your chest tighten. You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on your knees. “Then who are you? Really?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, something raw and unguarded glimmering beneath the surface. “I’m just a guy. A guy who’s scared of letting people see the parts of him that aren’t perfect. The parts that don’t shine on stage.” He paused, his jaw tightening for a moment before continuing. “There’s so much I keep buried. So many things I’ve never told anyone.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated, his fingers tracing small circles in the water. “Because… with you, it feels different. Like I don’t have to try so hard. Like maybe, just maybe, I can be myself for once.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you felt your chest swell with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. He looked up again, his gaze softer now, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It’s scary, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the water. “Letting someone see all the messy parts of you. But with you… it doesn’t feel so scary.”

The weight of his confession settled between you, and you realized how close you’d leaned toward him without noticing. You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against his beneath the water.

“I’m glad you trust me,” you said softly, your voice trembling with sincerity. “It… means a lot.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, the intensity of his gaze making your breath hitch. “You’re special,” he said finally, his voice steady, resolute. “And I don’t say that lightly.”

The warmth of his words wrapped around you like a blanket, and for the first time since stepping into the tub, you felt completely at ease. The space between you... it felt safe.

The two of you sat there, the water cooling slightly as time slipped away, sharing stories and moments that no one else would ever know. And in that quiet, steamy bathroom, you felt a connection deeper than you’d ever imagined.

"It-It's too big.. fuck I can't-" you hiss out, your words coming out breathy as Sunghoon inserts his tip inside your wet hole. Of course, you both being naked in a bathtub together would lead to you being bent over the tub, his hands on your hips as he slowly inserts himself in.

"You can take it for me princess, be good and let me do the work." He says in a husky whisper.

Your walls suddenly feel full as he inserts himself fully inside your cunt. You led out a load moan, the pleasure overwhelming you. Sunghoon adjusted himself, gripping onto the flesh of your hips before starting to move.

He first moved slowly and carefully, putting just enough force to make his dick enter you all the way and make you feel completely full. His movements were perfect, the mixture of his precum and your cum from your previous orgasms creating the perfect lube for his dick. His hand on your hip tightened as he was feeling drunk every time your pussy swallowed his cock and he felt the warmth of your walls covering every inch of it.

"Fuck princess, you feel so fucking good. God, I love you and this sweet cunt of yours."

The sudden confession from your idol only makes you further clench around his cock, making him groan as he frees one of his hands from your hips to wrap them around your neck, lightly choking you.

“I-I love..- ngh-” you muttered out barely, “you..!” you emphasized that word really loudly, causing him to chuckle and to only quicken his pace, knowing the affect he had on you.

His cock twitched inside your pussy, making you understand that he's going to cum soon. You weren't getting any further from your orgasm as his movements became more rough. The sound of your guy's skins slapping each other and moans echoed throughout the bathroom. You could feel your chest burn up as he continues to quicken his pace, his balls hitting your cunt which vibrated towards your clit, giving you extra stimulation. His thrusts became more needy, and you could barely form coherent thoughts and the grip on your neck only become tighter, having you take quick breaths between each thrust.

“Hoon...!” you moaned out his name before you couldn't take it anymore. You could feel you wet yourself around his cock, causing him to let out a small chuckle as the scene got more messy. Sunghoon, no longer able to hold back, thrusted a few more times before he finally came. The sudden feeling of his warm cum filling you up inside made your legs twitch, Sunghoon groans from the feeling of satisfaction of the long needing orgasm. You both pant heavily as you both ride out your orgasms, before he pulls out, leaving your cunt empty with only his cum inside.

He admires the sight infront of him. You, bent over, with his cum dripping out of your pussy. His fingers grabs any cum lingering outside and brings it up to your hole before inserting his finger in gently, preventing anything from spilling out of your sweet cunt. His gentle action causing you to let out a small moan as he pulls his finger out of your sensitive pussy.

"You really enjoyed that didn't you?" He teases, making you turn your head to look at him and nod.

The two of you walked side by side, the soft hum of the city filling the silence between you. You clung to his arm, your grip firm as if afraid he’d slip away. The cool night air kissed your skin, but despite your closeness, something felt off.

Sunghoon’s focus was on his phone, his face illuminated by the glow of the screen. His brows furrowed occasionally, his thumbs tapping away with an ease that made it clear whatever he was doing held more importance than your presence beside him.

You glanced at him, your chest tightening with unspoken words. You tried to shake the creeping feeling of being invisible, telling yourself it was just nerves. After all, he had spent the night with you. That had to mean something, right?

“Did you have a good time tonight?” you asked softly, your voice barely above the hum of passing cars.

“Hmm?” he murmured, his eyes still glued to his phone. “Yeah, it was fine.”

Fine. The word stung more than you wanted to admit. You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping he’d elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, he typed something quickly and let out a quiet chuckle—clearly amused by whatever was on his screen.

Your fingers tightened around his arm as you tried again, forcing a smile. “It’s nice out tonight. The city looks so pretty at this hour.”

“Mm,” he muttered, nodding absently.

Your smile faltered, and you turned your gaze to the ground. Each step toward the train station felt heavier, the initial glow of the night dimming with every passing second.

When you finally reached the platform, the faint rumble of an approaching train filled the air. You stopped walking, turning to face him. He didn’t notice at first, too busy scrolling on his phone, but you gently tugged on his sleeve, catching his attention.

“Sunghoon,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable as he slipped his phone into his pocket. For a moment, you thought you’d see the same warmth he’d shown earlier, but his face remained calm, distant.

“I’ll text you when I get home, okay?” he said, his tone light but firm.

Your chest tightened at his words, but you nodded, forming a smile “Okay.”

The train screeched to a halt in front of him, and he took a step back, creating just enough space between you that it felt like miles. He gave you a small nod, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, then turned to board the train.

You raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, watching as the doors closed behind him. The train pulled away moments later, leaving you standing alone on the platform.

It had been two weeks. Fourteen days of silence that chipped away at you, piece by piece.

After that night, after the promises whispered between breaths, you had waited. You’d replayed every moment, every touch, every word, trying to hold onto the warmth of him. But as the days stretched on, that warmth faded, replaced by an icy void in your chest.

You had convinced yourself that he was just busy. He was an idol, after all. His life wasn’t like yours. He had schedules to follow, appearances to make, fans to please. But even those excuses began to crumble under the weight of the silence.

At first, you’d kept it casual.

"Heyy! Did you make it home safe?"

"How are you?"

But when days passed with no reply, you became more vulnerable.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Please, just let me know if you’re okay."

Each message went unanswered, some marked with the cruel sting of seen, others left on delivered, hanging in the void like a conversation with yourself.

The realization crept in slowly, like a shadow swallowing the light. He had used you. What felt so real to you—his touch, his whispered words, the way he’d held you so close—had been nothing more than a fleeting moment for him. A single night. You were just another girl to him.

And yet, even as the bitterness settled in your heart, there was a part of you that couldn’t let go. You couldn’t delete the messages you’d sent. You couldn’t bring yourself to block his number. A part of you still held onto the foolish hope that he’d text back, that he’d tell you it wasn’t what you thought, that he cared.

When you received the email reminder about his next fan meeting, your stomach twisted. The ticket had been booked weeks ago, back when the idea of seeing him again filled you with joy instead of dread. You debated not going, but the ticket was non-refundable, and deep down, you couldn’t resist the thought of seeing him again. Even if it hurt.

The day of the fan meeting came, and you moved through it like a ghost. The outfit you’d chosen weeks ago: a perfect blend of cute and casual now felt heavy on your body now. The usual excitement you felt while waiting in line, surrounded by fans buzzing with energy, was absent.

When Sunghoon finally stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted in cheers, screams, and tears. You looked up at him, your breath hitching for a moment. He looked just as perfect as you remembered, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his smile as radiant as ever.

But as you watched him laugh and interact with the crowd, you felt none of the joy you used to. Instead, it felt like watching a stranger. The man who had held you, who had whispered promises in your ear, felt so far away now.

Your eyes followed him as he scanned the crowd, his gaze briefly landing on yours. Your heart leapt despite itself, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. His expression didn’t change. There was no flicker of recognition, no smile, no warmth. He simply looked away, moving on as if you were just another face in the sea of fans.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it refused to go away. The rest of the fan meeting blurred together, the moments dragging on painfully. By the time it ended, you felt relief—relief that you could finally leave, that you wouldn’t have to keep pretending you were okay.

You stood up, clutching your bag tightly as you made your way out of the venue. The noise of excited fans filled the air, but it all felt muffled, like you were underwater.

As you stepped outside into the cool evening air, your phone buzzed. You paused, your heart skipping a beat. Without thinking, you pulled it out, expecting it to be a notification about the event.

But it wasn’t.

His name flashed across your screen.

Your breath caught as you opened the message, your fingers trembling.

“Same place. Tonight.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to. Deep down, you knew you’d go.

For a moment, you felt like the world was spinning too fast, like you were losing control. And maybe that’s exactly what he wanted.

Because even though you knew better, even though every part of you screamed that this wasn’t love, you stayed.

And he knew you would.

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

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Can I just get a lil Sunday nap with Sirius? I'm so tired and I just wanna nap

Many Sundays later….(thanks for requesting <3)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 466 words

There’s something a tiny bit satisfying about a light, lazy sleep. It’s almost like you’re really just drowsing. It means you get to really enjoy how comfortable you are, all warm and snug beneath Sirius’ thick comforter, soft pillow cushioning your head and freshly washed sheets silken where they bunch between your knees. It also means that when you open your eyes just a millimeter, you get to look at your boyfriend through your lashes.

Sirius is the sort of beautiful that will wedge itself between your ribs if you spend too long thinking about it. He’s usually so expressive with his face, so it’s a rare privilege to see it all smoothed out like this. His slight tan from the summer is already beginning to fade, and there’s a thin strand of hair sweeping down to kiss the bridge of his nose. You wonder if it tickles. The gentle dip of his cupid’s bow, his crush of dark lashes, the one tiny mole above his left eyebrow that he used to cringe when you kissed but has since become well used to. You love him so much it’s going to crush you down to powder.

You realize he’s awake when a slow grin spreads across his face, sleepy but no less wicked for it.

“Freak,” Sirius mumbles. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

“No.” You’re too tired to deny it. Your own voice comes out croaky and lethargic.

He groans, stretching out his arm until it’s curled around your waist, his fingers squishing your tummy. You make him do all the work but you allow yourself to be pulled across the bed until you can feel the warmth of his abdomen through your shirt.

Sirius’ words tickle the back of your neck. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I got distracted.”

“Yeah?”

He gives your hip a little tug, and this time you move for him, turning over so your nose brushes his chin. He smells nice.

“Mhm,” you hum as he kisses between your eyebrows. You worm a hand up from between you, hooking that piece of hair you’d seen earlier on your pointer finger and moving it out of his face. Sirius watches your lazy movements with some mix of smugness and adoration, the outsides of his eyes creasing just slightly.

“Well, enough of that.” He squeezes his arms around you, squishing you close to his front and trapping your arms against your sides. “I’m keeping you captive until you take the nap you asked for.”

You relinquish yourself to his hold happily, angling your head to nizzle your cheek against his chest. “Oh, that’ll work. Now I’m not distracted at all.”

“I know it will. Comfortable, my lovely pest?”

“Very.”

Sirius pushes his lips against the top of your head. “Good.”

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usedtobecooler · 2 years ago

Text

thinking about being eddie and steve's little cock hungry fucktoy <;3

content warnings: sexual content (18+ minors dni), mmf threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, nipple play, dacryphilia, dirty talk, degradation.

eddie's underneath you, thick cock rocking into your tight hole until you're gasping and writhing around on top of him. he has you pinned, large hands grabbing at squishy handfuls of your inner thighs to keep you spread wide for steve as he slides two fingers into your dripping cunt.

your hands grapple for purchase behind your head, settling in eddie's unruly curls and tugging hard — he punches his hips upwards, rocking your limp body until your head lolls back onto his shoulder, pushing his cock further into your ass and splitting you apart from the inside out. you cry out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

it feels so good that all coherency has evaporated, brain turning to a puddle of mush — steve grins at you, crooks his fingers upwards until you're rutting into his hand, rocking yourself down on them both in tandem. eddie grunts, slapping his hand down on your thigh, the loud crack of skin connecting with skin echoing in the electricity-filled room.

"think we can get another one out of her, harrington?" eddie's gravelly, thick voice bounces in your ears, his chest vibrating and sending the shockwaves through your back, leaving you shivering and begging silently, arching into him and baring your throat.

you're dumb. reduced to nothing more than a cock hungry whore, pliant under large, roaming hands. aching to be filled and used however they want you.

you'd lost count of how many times they'd made you cum already. in the back of your mind you think it's surpassed six, at least. your clit swollen and tender from fingers and tongues and teeth.

steve knew that, knew your cunt needed filled now, clit thrumming and all feeling lost in it a few orgasms ago. the rough pads of his fingertips brush over that fucking spot, pressing down on the spongey softness of it until you're keening.

he cackles. tan, mole flecked skin gleaming with sweat in the luminescence of the sun shining through the crack in the curtains — god, when did daylight break? how long had you been like this? your mind races, eyes crossing as eddie slowly, languidly fucks your ass, huffing small groans into your ear, smearing wet hot kisses on the junction where your neck meets your collarbone.

"i think we could easily get more than one from her, c'mon, look how desperate she is. feel how desperate she is." steve looks at eddie over your shoulder, cocking his head to the side, crooking his fingers at the same time — your tummy quivers, pussy fluttering around the long digits sinking in and out, making sloppy sounds that sound like heaven to both men.

"i— i'm not—" your eyebrows marry together as you struggle to form a sentence, sweat matting your hair to your forehead as you're rocked back and forth between the both of them. they're talking about you like you're not even there — using and abusing your holes and taking you for everything you've got. it makes you all the more dizzy, knowing they're thinking of you as nothing more than a dirty sex toy to pass around.

eddie chuckles, pouting enough that you can feel it when his lips purse against your heated skin, "aww, sweetheart. nothing going on in that tiny little brain of yours, huh?" he taunts, palms at the thick fat of your inner thigh again, this time soothing and squeezing it, setting your body alight.

steve's thumb swipes over your abused clit and you swear your vision whites out for a moment — it feels bruised, battered, enough so that it almost hurts when he brushes it. teeters on the right side of too much.

they worked together too well, steve and eddie. knowing glances between them had all four hands, all twenty fingers working together to work you up and push you over the edge in a record time. the deep, burning heat pooling in your belly and igniting just as quick.

the force of your orgasm shocks you — wracks through you until you're vibrating and clenching down around them both. eddie loses a slight bit of composure, whining high pitched as you hold his cock prisoner in the tight heat of your ass, pussy gushing even wetter than before and dripping down his balls.

"'atta girl, honey," steve coos, always more gentle than eddie and sure to give you the praise he knew you deserved, fingers slipping deftly from your cunt — only to be replaced just as quickly by the blunt, thick head of his cock.

you cry out, wiggling away but helpless to it. you're pinned in place at either side, two weighty, hard bodies holding you hostage. steve's cock slides into you with minimal resistance, pressing snug in the tight walls of your pussy.

you don't miss the way eddie groans, pushes up into your ass and moves his hands from your spread legs to grip at steve momentarily — "holy shit, can fucking feel you splitting her open, jesus christ."

they both give you a moment, if you could even call it that, before they're giving each other a knowing look over your shoulder. they look at each other like you're not even there, a silent agreement as they begin fucking you.

and it's not slow. at all. it's fast, brutal, teeters on violent as steve slides out and sinks back in, simultaneously pushing you down onto eddie and forcing him deeper into your ass until you're practically screaming.

it feels so fucking good you're sick with it. you're so full you feel like you could be torn open, but the way they work together with roaming hands and heavy bodies eases and relaxes you until you're nothing but a whimpering, begging cockwhore.

"who do you fuckin' belong to, baby, huh?" eddie's voice is unwavering, hands roaming from your waist to your tits that bounce with every harsh thrust, fingers gripping and twisting at your nipples until you're wailing and thrashing around on top of him, pushing both of their cocks out slightly, "use your words. now."

steve's hips piston into yours, emphasizing the brutal force by rolling his pelvis when he's buried as deep as he can go. you're so stupid and hazy you can't reply. all you can do is grab onto the meat of steve's bicep and cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks as every part of your body is set on fire with rough touches.

"answer him, don't be a brat," steve grunts, gripping under your thigh to bend your leg upwards to your chest, somehow opening you up so he can fuck into you deeper, harder.

"i'm—" you choke on your words, eyes rolling into your skull when steve's blunt cockhead catches on your spongey wall just right and drags, "fuck, fuck — m'yours, yours, all yours."

the clapping of their hips against yours increases tenfold as your pussy floods and gushes for them, eddie grunting and pulling at your nipples until you wail, steve biting and nipping at your collarbone.

you're reduced to nothing more than a set of holes for them to use as they please. you don't want it to end, never want it to stop.

eddie's tongue is sharp, a deep, rumbling laugh escaping him, "perfect, sweetheart. that's it, fuck. you gonna let us both cum in you, hmm? fill you up nice? you love it, being used like a cumrag, don't you?"

steve grunts from where he mouths at your flushed skin, hips stuttering, "shut your filthy fucking mouth, munson," he snarks, bitchy, "you're gonna make me cum too quick."

"don't worry, steve. i'm right there with you," eddie admits, "she's so fucking tight, goddamn you should feel it. if she ever lets you in her ass, that is."

you want to yell 'i'm right here!' — instead all that comes out is a desperate, whimpering moan, as your orgasm crescendos and washes over you in tidal waves. the stimulation hitting you like a freight train all at once and driving you over the edge.

you feel your cunt gushing, both holes clenching and unclenching sporadically as you cum, hard. the breath feels like it's knocked from your lungs, winding you. body going limp as you flop around like a ragdoll between both men.

"so good for us, sweet girl, oh fuck, fuck," steve groans, gripping onto your thigh tight enough to leave bruises as his cock kicks up and pulses inside of you, painting your cunt in his cum. you feel it paint your insides, hot and sticky, drooling from your aching, used walls.

"jesusfuckingchrist," you barely register eddie's voice as he pulls you down by the hips and practically impales you on his cock, rocking your hips back and forth on him and biting down on your shoulder until tears prick at your eyes. he grunts and moans into your salty skin, hands rough yet soothing on your sore hips as he unloads in you.

they apologise for being so rough later on, in their own ways. steve showers you down gently and kisses every last mark they left behind with soft lips. eddie tickles and rubs your back until you fall asleep, leaving you a pliant, contented mess of limbs.

#eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader smut #eddie munson fic #steve harrington fic #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #my fanfic #mine #x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

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I haven't seen any dog stories in a while. How are Charleston and The Hanukkah Goblin doing?

Dog updates!

The first one is a little sad, but also how life should go. Arwen is 14 now and while she's still moving, eating, pooping and generally enjoying life, she also has canine dementia and sundown syndrome where she gets extremely nervous and her dementia gets worse after dark. She'll be with us for a while yet, but it's something we have to manage now.

One person who is very much helping her manage is Herschel. My parents are traveling a lot while they still have the knees for it so I spend a lot of time up at their house, and Charleston and Herschel come up too. Being a Corgi, Herschel likes to manage things, and Arwen would like someone to manage things for her so he's become her self-appointed guide dog.

When I call the dogs for food or outside, he goes and finds her deaf ass and herds her to the location. Normally she doesn't go outside after dark but when the boys are there she's willing to wait for Charlie to chase away anything that might be lurking out there, and then follow Herschel's ass around the yard at night.

Very literally.

She's also got cataracts forming and I think his bright white backside is easy for her to see in the dark, so she follows it around.

During daytime walks she sees well enough but neither she nor Charlie are fans of strange off-leash dogs running up to them (a regrettably common problem out here. I don't care if your dog is friendly MINE ARE NOT!), so both of them prefer to walk half a pace behind Herschel so his more socially adept and knife-filled face is out front to intercept any unwanted solicitors. This does tend to give people the opposite impression though- because he is so much shorter, Herschel gives the impression of a tiny, charming mafioso flanked by his two large and surly bodyguards.

Like, they absolutely would kill a bear for him.

But Charlie and Arwen would also try to kill a bear on general principle.

At night, when Arwen barks at shadows, Herschel runs up and stand between her and the alleged menace, and does his best to look large and intimidating and for as silly as he looks, he does have a very good growl. After a moment, when the alleged bear or congressman or other horror fails to appear, he will stick his nose into the offending shadow, and finding nothing, be satisfied that their joint effort has successfully chased the problem off, and report back to her. This, more than anything else, seems to alleviate Arwen 's fears.

I guess we all just need someone to take us seriously when we're frightened.

Charleston, meanwhile, has gotten into giving safari tours of the front range's small vertebrates.

After eight years of managing his exceptionally high prey drive, something clicked earlier this summer and instead of immediately lunging his whole face at any approximately bite-sized animal in an attempt to expedite it's journey into his stomach, Charlie has started *pointing* at things until I come look at them and tell him he's a good boy. This started with a mole, something he'd never seen before and that moves above ground in a strange way, so he wasn't sure about eating it, so he only alerted at it. "GOOD BOY!" I shouted, giving him all the cuddles. "GOOD SPOT! GOOD JOB NOT EATING IT!"

It's important to reward behavior you want to see.

Since then, he's been trying out pointing at small creatures in the grass and then making very pointed eye contact with me until I come look at them. This is a little tricky when walking both dogs because Herschel is still very much in his "inhale wildlife" phase, but usually I can lock the little gremlin's leash and go look at whatever Charlie has cornered while Herschel attempts to develop telekinesis to will the critter into his mouth.

So far, Charleston has found: a baby rabbit, several baby rabbits in a cluster, an adult rabbit with Jackalope virus, several voles, several moles, a fledgling owl, only the two mice, several mouse-sized grasshoppers and cicada, someone's pet rat (the person was searching within earshot and 'Socks' was collected forthwith), a beanie baby that had me fooled for a hit minute too, a marmot which I didn't know lived down here, a groundhog which I didn't know lived up here, a mink, so many toads, a wild turkey chick, so many more garter snakes and last night, an aquatic shrew.

I don't know if there's an Audubon Society for small things that scuttle around in the undergrowth, but I am inclined to join solely to get Charleston recognition for his service in surveying them.

#dogs #Charleston Chew #Arwen the crime dog #Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin #family lore

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scribeofnight · 11 months ago

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⸝⸝ ꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃. 🫧ㆍ₊⊹

✦ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 ;; rafayel x gn!reader ✦ 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ;; fluff, pure fluff and brainrots, not fully coherent thoughts ✦ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ;; 0.7k ✦ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖾'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ;; obsessed and thinking about husband rafayel 24/7 - so a little filler drabble while i finish up the zayne oneshot and before i go to bed. enjoy my seashells <3 (currently can't add my yellows - i'll edit the format tomorrow)

✦ 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘦 (𝘧𝘪𝘤/𝘩𝘤𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯!!) ♡.

⟢ husband! rafayel who makes sure there's always a place for you to sit or lay down on when you're in the room watching him paint

⟢ husband! rafayel who smears paint on your cheeks while you're sleeping, only to feel bad and paint a small sunset or ocean or sunrise or the sky or anything, really, across your cheeks

⟢ husband! rafayel who will trace miscellaneous shapes on your collarbones and shoulders - connecting every freckle and mole

⟢ husband! rafayel who looks at your stretch marks and kisses them gently, tracing every curve and smiling up at you, stopping to only tell you how much they look like stardust

⟢ husband! rafayel who would cave when you give him puppy eyes and a pout - he's weak for you, he knows

⟢ husband! rafayel who once reserved a whole restaurant because he remembered you saying you don't like eating in front of a lot of people, just so you would be comfy on your date night

⟢ husband! rafayel who would collect seashells everyday as he walks on the beach with you, telling you stories about his adventures when he was a little kid in lemurian waters; placing them in a tiny jar that he gives to you - and his grin is so blinding and hug so warm and kiss so tender when he sees it on your desk and in your bag.

⟢ husband! rafayel who thinks you look exceptionally pretty in pearls, but he thinks you're ethereal when you're in his bed, curled up around him, bed hair and sour breath and all

⟢ husband! rafayel who grew fond of cats because of how much you love them - who fell in love with the way you looked and loved cats, and could never think of cats as harmful ever again (especially when you look at them like how you look at him)

⟢ husband! rafayel who buys you dresses upon dresses, if only to see you wear them and spin around like the disney princess you deserved to be but couldn't affort to be

⟢ husband! rafayel introducing you to little fishies during a swim in the ocean, calling you his wife and watching with awe as the fishes boop your nose and circle you two, guiding you both through the waters to the prettiest coral reef ever

⟢ husband! rafayel who lets you see his silvery scars from fighting for his kingdom, letting you trace them even though he flinches from the memories - only soothed by your fingertips and gentle kisses to his skin, your calloused thumbs wiping away falling tears

⟢ husband! rafayel dedicating a whole exhibit with every painting of everything you've ever loved and liked, with the centerpiece as both of you dancing at the banquet, with the words "for my ocean" as its caption

⟢ husband! rafayel who has never thought of having kids until he took one look at you with your nephew, and decided he wanted some then and there

⟢ husband! rafayel who brings you trinkets and tidbits from wherever he travels to, be it in Linkon or overseas, because every little thing reminds him of you (he'd rather live with your memory and you by his side than have to lose you again)

⟢ husband! rafayel that would not let you go anywhere without him - he knows you can defend yourself, but he wants to be able to see you and touch you just in case; he likes protecting you (if only to make up for all the time that he wasn't there to protect you - could you blame him? he wanted you to forget, he was sure you would)

⟢ husband! rafayel that would cook for you when you return home from work, shit-faced and weak, wobbly, exhausted legs - who would feed you and hold you close as your words slurred, a fond smile on his face as he squished your cheeks, watching you fall asleep, your features so beautifully calm and peaceful

⟢ husband! rafayel who never wants to see you cry, but would sit there on the bathroom floor at 5am, wiping your tears away when memories of you both together centuries ago flooded your mind, his heart aching as he watched you cry over not remembering him when it really was his fault

⟢ husband! rafayel who would hold your hair back when you didn't like the way it felt, tying it up into a bun and decorating it with little seashell clips so you felt pretty

⟢ husband! rafayel who would see his child hold a paintbrush, painting a very wonky looking apple and sing with glee - who would frame the apple painting and title it "[child's name]'s first painting"

⟢ husband! rafayel who would tell his child how wonderful of a mother you are, spinning the baby around before he tucks the baby onto his hips, holding her close

⟢ husband! rafayel who would rest his forehead against yours at least 5 times a day, loving the peace and love that radiates from you, seeping into him and soothing his bones, a quick kiss on your lips sealed the deal

⟢ husband! rafayel who always tells you that he's glad to finally be yours, to kiss you and hold you close

⟢ husband! rafayel who looks at you like you hung the moon and stars when you tell him you love him

⟢ husband! rafayel who is just so happy you come home to him everyday

♡. head empty only husband rafayel.

✧˖°. header creds ;; @editshan <𝟑

♡₊˚ 🪼・ copyright @scribeofnight all rights reserved ;; do not copy, steal, plagarize, reword or repost to other platforms without proper permission || all credits to original owners and creators of the characters from the media + pictures that are not my own.

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angelfoxx · 1 year ago

Note

I just know Keegan looks so god damn hot in his casual clothing, going to bed in loose grey boxers and an old band shirt that rides up his stomach when he lies down, AND GOOD GOD his happy traillll😫I feel like he’s one of those guys with really bushy happy trails, doesn’t even know how sexy you find it. He’s lying in bed, one of his big arms around your shoulders while reading an old book. Raises an eyebrow when your hand starts wandering up his thigh, fingertips dipping under the waistband of his boxers..

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ NEED SOMETHING? ❞

…in which keegan entertains your perversions.

FEATURING: keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: keegan being a sexy motherfucker. also me giving him a tatted sleeve because it’s sexy and who the hell is gonna tell me no. also me drooling over his happy trail bc HAPPY TRAILS HAPPY TRAILS LOOOOOOOORD

NOTE/S: oh my god

It’s not your fault, really. Feeling like this. It’s not your fault.

It’s his.

He’s not ignoring you. His arm, slung up on your shoulders, is just a heavy, toned reminder that he’s with you. His attention is just elsewhere.

You aren’t totally sure what book he’s reading. Probably something of Stephen King’s. Last week, it had been Christine. The week prior, It. You hadn’t bothered checking; if it was a low-stress week, he’d tell you all about it once he finished it, true book-critic style. In any case, he’s got the thing casually in his lap, spread open by a splayed hand. He’s got a simple silver band on his middle finger, gnarled and twisted like barbed wire — every now and then, he taps it, just an occasional beat of sound as if to remind you that he’s right there.

You’re ogling his hand, now. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Your eyes travel upward. He’s got a pretty sleeve of black-and-white tattoos; churning ocean waves, storm-battered whitecaps, tossing ships. He’d explained it the first time you’d seen it; something about how he found peace in the chaos of an ocean storm. Just standing in a place where there was no resistance that he could give. Surrendering to the fury of nature. Something like that. It’s…um, attractive. Yeah. You swallow and resist the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

The top of that sleeve — thick, billowing clouds — vanishes under the edge of his tee. Charcoal-gray, emblazoned with the title of an old rock band that you’d never really heard of prior to meeting him. He’s still wearing his dog-tag, hanging on a silver chain around his neck and rising on his chest every time he breathes.

Christ, you should stop staring.

His shirt’s ridden up on his stomach, and god, you really shouldn’t look because then you won’t be able to look away. But you do look, because what are you if not a swooning idiot for the sniper sitting beside you?

Every time he breathes, his stomach sinks in and you can see the outline of his abs. God. Fucking Christ. You can see the outline of his abs but not really the middle, because along the middle he’s proudly sporting a long line of short black curls.

You’re basically salivating.

He’s just got some loose gray boxers on, sitting dangerously low on his hips. He’s left the v-line of his hips exposed; your senses are on high alert, eyes catching on every little mole spotting his waist, every little white scar, the edge of the paw-print tattoos he has just below his stomach (it’s where Riley’s front feet go when the dog stands up on his hind legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling), and it’s such a cute little tattoo but your thoughts are anything but and—

“Don’t forget to blink.”

You flinch like you’ve been shot. Your mind goes blank, and your gaze shoots upward.

Tiny smirk caught in the corner of his mouth, Keegan looks down at you with lidded, quietly humored eyes. They seem brilliantly blue, moreso than usual — though maybe that’s just the lighting in here. His hair’s a mess; short and still damp from his earlier shower, undercut scrubbing against your arm as he turns his head, just a little, one eyebrow raised. There’s a little scar through his left one; the hair splits unevenly there. You’ve told him several times that you find it sexy.

He agrees.

“What?” Your mouth feels like it’s filled with a fat wad of cotton. You feel like your thoughts are visible in your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid.” His response is honey-smooth. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say y…you were.” You swallow. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Mm.” Keegan narrows his eyes. “Mhm.”

And then he goes back to that book.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how hard you stare at his hand holding that book open. It’s almost pathetic, actually. You’re sure he’d say the same if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through your head right now. Pinkie finger on one page, index on the other, middle and ring both resting so lightly along the inseam of the spine.

Christ.

Trying to shake yourself out of your own head, you turn yourself inwards. Keegan needs no words; his arm tightens around you, hand sliding down to your hip and tugging it over so that you’re fully facing his side, head resting against his chest and body slung down along his leg. It’s comfortable like this; it goes without saying that he’s built like a motherfucker and so his pec is a comfortable resting-place for your head. He’s warm, too, deliciously so; his body heat seeps up through his tee, prickling against your skin. He’s comfy, so comfy; on other nights, you’d fallen asleep like this, cuddled up to his side with one of his arms wrapped around you. Those nights were sweet; when time started to slow and all of your senses started to bleed together, you always heard him call your name, so quiet you wouldn’t catch it if you were awake. When you didn’t answer, he’d laugh — and then you’d hear the rustle of sheets as he stooped over and pressed a little kiss to the top of your head.

You weren’t totally sure if he knew that you knew he did that.

Tonight, though, you can’t do that. You can’t fathom it, because your hand is just itching to move. It’s just casually resting against his thigh — god, his fucking thighs, hard and thick and oh, you have to stop ogling him. You have to stop thinking about how that muscle feels, flexing so slightly under your hand as it moves up.

Moves up?

Oh.

Oops.

Keegan doesn’t say anything when your hand cups the warm spot between his legs. He lets out a short breath — it almost sounds like a laugh. There’s a curve taking shape on his lips, and his eyes glint with humor as he shifts, purposefully pushing his pelvis so slightly up into your palm.

The weight of his dick pushes between your fingers and your legs instinctively snap together. Above you, Keegan’s breath cracks into a nearly-silent laugh.

He’s onto you.

You bite your lip, risking a glance up at him as you do. He isn’t looking at you; he’s still reading, hawkish blue eyes scanning from left to right, over and over again. The hand on your hip lightly squeezes a handful of your thigh.

His hips roll so slightly up again. He’s daring you to continue.

Cocky sonofabitch. You swallow as you move your hand up, up, over the slight angular swell of his abdomen and up past the elastic of his boxers. For a moment, you rake your fingers up his abs and you shudder in response to the way his stomach flexes and his breathing oh-so-slightly breaks.

No words. Just the sound of him turning the page.

Bitch. You bite your tongue as you shift your head around. You can hear his heart thumping beneath your ear, and — god fucking dammit — it’s not beating quicker at all. It’s like you can’t disturb him. Get under his skin like he gets under yours.

You pick at the elastic of his waistband. On one hand? You’re rubbing your legs together, biting your tongue, and there’s a million and one dirty images in your head. You can practically hear Keegan’s growl in your ear: too needy to sit still, princess?

But on the other hand, he’s being mean. He’s ignoring you and all of your signs. And you kind of want to just roll over and go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, he’d been hoping for you to go further.

But you won’t. So he’ll get frustrated, and then it’ll be him slowly reaching his hand under the elastic of your waistband, fingers curving over the shape of your body and feeling for wet warmth. He’ll breathe in your ear with that stupid rasp of his and he’ll ask, voice raw, if you were really planning on hanging me out to dry like that? and you’ll say maybe I was.

Or he’ll get frustrated, but he’ll reach into his own pants. He’ll leave you alone, but you’ll wake up to the quiet sound of his muted groans and his hand stroking back and forth under the thin material of his boxers and then maybe he’ll do that thing where he tips his head back, swallows, and his eyes flutter shut and he cursed, quiet and hoarse.

Or maybe—

“Cold feet?” There he is again, short phrases and little questions. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking at his book, tilting his head as he turns the page. He raises an eyebrow to you, tongue clasped between his teeth.

“What?”

No response this time. Keegan’s eyes shift over to you; he cocks his head in your direction, and under that messy black mop of hair and those thick black lashes that you’ve always been envious of, Keegan silently asks if you’re really going to play this fucking dumb.

You’ve arrived at a stalemate. You don’t move. He doesn’t speak. You two just stare at each other, blinking back-and-forth like a tennis volley until Keegan finally sighs and looks away. His eyes return to the book.

You’re about to snap, ready to rip the godforsaken thing out of his lap, when the hand on your hip shifts. His arm lifts off of your back; it pulls around your shoulders instead, crushing you into his armpit.

His fingers clasp around your wrist, and you catch the undeniable edge of a smirk on his face before he takes your hand and pulls it into his pants.

get fucking cliffhanger’d bitches

#cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan smut #cod keegan #LORDDDD

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 year ago

Text

Ready to roll?

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 9

Prompt: No Upside Down AU

Rated: T

CW: one mention of masturbation bc Eddie is a horny little shit

Tags: Future fic; Flirting; Record label owner!Eddie; Waiter!Steve; Steve in rollerblades

Notes: Another collab with the amazingly talented and creative @house-of-the-moving-image - check out their art!

"What?" Eddie says eloquently, tearing his eyes from the laminated menu.

The waiter is hovering next to his booth, pen tapping against the notepad in his hand. He looks annoyed. Probably pissed at Eddie for interrupting his quiet night shift. Well, tough luck, pretty boy.

"I said …" the waiter pauses, heaves a brief but heartfelt sigh. "Are you ready to roll?"

Eddie blinks.

"Listen, dude!" The waiter says flatly, but there's a blush blossoming on his neck. "I'd ask if I may take your order, but I'm, like, contractually obfuscated to say … this instead. Goes with the theme, y’know?"

He gestures at the entirety of himself. The cheerfully colored shirt and tiny shorts. The little apron around his waist. The knee-high socks disappearing into a pair of chunky, red-and-white rollerblades, and … oh, right.

"Well?"

Eddie snaps his eyes back up and shit, for how long has he been staring at those legs like a creep?

The waiter is scowling at him. He really is pretty. Exactly Eddie’s type. Gold-flecked eyes, stupidly voluminous hair, pink lips twisted into a bitchy little scowl. Eddie imagines pushing him up against the wall on those stupid wheels of his, sucking and biting that scowl right off.

"Hm," he makes instead. "The guys at the label said I'd enjoy the cake, but I'm starting to think they weren't talking about the menu."

The scowl deepens.

"Cheeseburger and fries," Eddie says. "And a strawberry milkshake."

One elegant eyebrow arches.

"... Please?"

Waiter boy smirks at him, a brief flash of perfectly white teeth. Eddie wants to lick them.

"Coming right up." He jots the order down, shoves pen and notepad into his apron pocket. As he does, Eddie catches a glimpse of the name tag attached to his uniform shirt. (Which has nothing to do with him ogling the way the fabric stretches over that toned chest, because he wasn't doing that, thank you.)

It says "Hi, I'm Steve. :-)"

Wait, what?

The whirr of rollerblades on the floor tiles jerks him out of his stupor. He's glad he didn't take off his sunglasses, because holy fuck, he must be gawking like an idiot right now.

Because he knows a guy named Steve. Or knew.

A guy named Steve with perfect, caramel hair, tan skin littered in moles and an irritatingly pretty, aloof smile. Not that Eddie was ever at the receiving end of that smile. The closest Eddie ever got to him was back in eighty-six, when he was dealing drugs out of his van. In the driveway of that palace in Loch Nora, while the King and his court partied inside.

Eddie watches how waiter boy comes gliding out of the kitchen, wipes down tables and refills napkin holders.

It can't be.

Steve Harrington is back in the hellhole that is Hawkins, Indiana - or maybe at some college halfway across the country, preparing to take over daddy's business. He's most certainly not wearing rollerblades and a pair of stupidly short shorts, waiting tables in a cheap twenty-four hour diner in Seattle.

Then again, back in eighty-six, who would've thought that Eddie Munson would be owning his own record label one day?

When waiter boy arrives with his order and leans in to put it down on the table, Eddie peers over his sunglasses to cast an inconspicuous look at his profile.

There's a pair of moles on his neck, near identical in size, spaced apart like a perfect little vampire bite.

Well, slap his ass and call him Sally.

Eddie knows these moles, has spent entire nights jerking off to the thought of sinking his teeth into them.

"Staring costs extra," Steve mutters at the milkshake.

Before Eddie can say anything, the phone on the counter rings and Steve rolls over to answer it. Eddie chews on his too-salty fries and can't help the grin that tugs at his lips as he watches the boy twirl the cord around his fingers while taking the order.

The night just officially got interesting.

Steve looks over, catches him staring and gives him the flattest, most unimpressed look Eddie has ever seen on a person who just realized they were being checked out. The blush has reached his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Eddie winks and Steve rolls his eyes before he turns his back on him. Eddie doesn’t complain. That ass does look fantastic in the shorts.

He takes his time with the meal. The burger is nothing to write home about, but the view more than makes up for it.

When he is done, he saunters over to the counter, pulling out his wallet. Steve is busy counting mayonnaise packages and muttering under his breath. He blinks in confusion when Eddie slaps down a fifty, starts digging for change in his apron.

"Nah," Eddie says. "Just keep it."

Steve frowns at him. "That's way too much."

"Don't sell yourself short. I thought staring was extra?"

Steve opens his mouth. Hesitates. Closes it. Pockets the money.

"Thanks," he murmurs, eyes trained at some point behind Eddie's shoulder. "Roll by again."

Eddie just barely manages to turn the incoming snort into a grin.

"Sure will,” he mutters, leaning across the counter and into the boy’s space. “Maybe I'll try that cake next time."

"Oh, please," Steve huffs. "As if you could afford me, Munson."

Eddie feels his jaw drop. "Wait, you knew who-"

The doorbell chimes.

"Hi there!" Steve chirps at the guy in the door. "You called, right? I'll check if your order is ready."

And then he's gone and Eddie is staring at the still swinging kitchen door like an idiot.

It isn't until he's back out in the dark street that his confusion morphs into something else. His majesty wants to play coy? Well, Eddie can indulge him, can't he?

He makes his way home with a new spring in his step. Looks like he's found his new favorite dinner spot.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles #upside diner AU

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kysuguru · 1 year ago

Text

dear mother — stsg x fem!reader

synopsis : you’ve finally enrolled into jujutsu tech, sad thing is, you’re totally clueless.

includes / cw : emotionally abusive mother

all mine masterlist

a /n : ch1 of my “all mine” series!!!

"i'm ogawa [name]. i'm from sendai japan. please take care of me."

you bow politely. smiling at the tiny class of three as you rise, posture nervous and stiff.

"if i knew there was someone new i would've thrown a welcome party!" a white haired boy who's eyes are protected by circular black glasses exclaims excitedly, a smile big on his lips. you admit you're a bit intimidated. the idea of a party for you seems a bit over the top, though.

a boy on his left scoffs almost affectionately, the soft look he sends to his counterpart familiar to you. you always looked at the street cats like that, your mother as well (you try not to think about it). he has a bang over his left eye, you wonder if someone has ever tried to tuck it behind his ear.

"there's no need for a party. my arrival can't be that exciting," you chuckle shyly.

they all analyze you. so you settle with looking at your shuffling shoes.

"she speaks so formally." the gojo boy leans over with a hand cupped around his mouth as he whispers to his best friend, causing you to look up. it's a bit silly that he's acting as if he's whispering a secret even though everyone can hear him.

his friend eyes you apologetically.

there's another girl, the only one who seems actually interested as she stares you down. you flinch as you catch her gaze. her hair is short, in a brown bob that frames her face perfectly. her bangs are tucked behind her ear and there's a mole you catch on her face that convinces you she's model worthy.

other than your mother you've never thought a woman was so pretty.

"so new girl, what's your cursed technique."

new girl.. but i swore i said my name. did i not?

ignoring the white haired boy's lack of manners was easy, since you weren't all that aware he was being rude.

"i actually... don't know."

all three students chorused at the same time.

"hah?"

scouted? me? when you heard such a thing, you were confused and honestly, really surprised. you weren't talented by any means. outside of studying you didn't have much going on. not only that, but your mother kept you in the house a lot. so to hear of someone from jujutsu tech finding you worthy enough to attend had you blinking, astonished.

you were aware of what jujutsu was, cursed techniques and all of that jazz, but your knowledge was still limited beyond that. your mom was adamant on you not attending for reasons she refused to tell. obviously you didn't push. you never liked seeing her with a temper.

the man who recommended you was named yaga masamichi. he'd taken note of the significant amount of cursed energy you possessed when passing by you on your way to school. your family weren't jujutsu sorcerers from what you were aware of — you honestly weren't even sure that there were jujutsu sorcerers or people like you until now. but you'd never put it past your mom to hide something like that from you.

she always kept jujutsu related talk under wraps, only giving you little information to quell your curiosity.

you didn't even know what your cursed technique was. or if you even had one. even though you tried to understand why she does what she does, it still felt very lonely — seeing such heinous creatures and having to pretend they didn't exist for your own safety.

if it weren't for the fact that you instinctively learned to control your cursed energy output, you could've been in serious danger.

and although it was painful to go through such things alone — not being able to confide in a single person — you understood why your mother did it. all she wanted to do was keep you safe.

and even if you followed all of her rules of no jujutsu to a T, you couldn't help the sensation of excitement and relief knowing that there were so many other people out there just like you. a school of them, even.

you wanted badly to be upset with your mother, the fact that she knew about all of this and kept it from you. but even the thought of being angry at her when all she wanted was to protect you had you pushing down those foolish feelings.

other than secretive, your mother was also very stubborn. a trait that you always admired until this very moment.

she argued that you didn't belong into a school that was practically a death trap for young teens. always listening to your mother like an obedient puppy, you looked down at the floor, preparing for the inevitable rejection, expression sad as you shuffled your shoes alongside your mothers that were planted firm on the ground — you resisted the urge to distance yourself from her.

your eyes drifted to the shoes that were yaga's hoping no one would question your silence (they never did).

your mother wasn't a bad person. never that. but sometimes you couldn't help but get upset at the decisions she made in your stead. you wouldn't say that she didn't consider you, but sometimes it kinda felt that way.

"i get where you're coming from. jujutsu tech is a dangerous place and i hate to bring such young talented kids into such risks. but you have to understand your daughters side," he gestured towards you, your mothers eyes dropping to your head that perked up before they glared back at yaga.

"how do you think she feels knowing she has the opportunity to branch out and gain knowledge about these abilities. do you think she wants to stay ignorant because you do?"

your ears rang as the last sentence was spoken.

"do you think she wants to stay ignorant because you do?"

it resonated with you in a way you couldn't comprehend. all you could do was clutch your chest as a foreign feeling of relief left your choked up throat in a bated breath. the exhale feeling as if you were being freed from something. being seen.

"[name], my sweet darling baby," she caressed the top of your head. it was instinct to lean into her touch, even though at the moment you couldn't sort out how you felt towards her.

she's protecting you. the words whisper in your ear, like a disease that is incurable, like a predator that sinks its fangs and refuses to let go.

"mommy wants you to stay home with her. please consider it. it's so dangerous out there, and i really don't want you to get hurt," she cooed. it made you feel sick and you hated not knowing why. even though her words were meant to console you, they only made you want to run.

your eyes were glued to the dirty mat that you and your mother refused to clean, maybe because it was the most familiar thing in this constant changing house. there were five pairs of shoes, you, yaga, and mother and two unworn pairs off to the side, both meant for other occasions, better ones. ones that don't include the ringing of your ears and the well of your tears as they collect on your lashes. maybe it's an occasion where you're at a nice dinner with your mom, a rare treat whenever she deemed herself in the mood.

the bigger pair of shoes shifted. yaga.

"miss ogawa. i don't mean to overstep, but have you considered you're babying your 15 year old child? maybe you need to consider that she can make her own-"

"don't you dare tell me how to parent my own damn child." her voice is dripping with venom, the venom that seeps through you and whispers in your ear.

i just want to protect you.

your mothers anger was never a calm one, it was loud and furious, voice bouncing off the walls as she tried restraining herself from getting violent. so hearing her talk to the man in such a familiar tone had you quivering in her hold.

your mother, never under the assumption that she could ever be the reason you were upset, deduced that your shivers were caused by yaga.

so she glares, long and hard, and her lips move to form the words you were dreading, "my daughter is not attending your shit school. get out of my house.”

...

other than the sound of life beyond the door, there only laid cold, anxious silence.

you were afraid to look up, your mother's shirt being your only anchor. but from the resigned sigh that left yaga's lips, you were well aware of the expression he was making — one of anger, and disappointment. realizing that seeking you out was a waste of his time.

or so you assumed.

for he could only look at you in pity, acknowledging how painful a relationship like this must be for you, and in longing, hoping foolishly that he could lend a helping hand.

a rough calloused hand entered your vision, a piece of ripped paper in the grip of his fingers.

yaga gestured it towards you patiently, a look of sorrow marring his usually calm expression. "if there's a change, please call this number."

your mom ripped it from his grasp right before you could touch it. she crumpled it in her hand. "there won't be a change. now get the fuck out of my house."

you could only stare in horror at your mothers fist that held the only thing that could possibly change the trajectory of your life. even as yaga bowed and turned around, even as the door slammed shut behind him. even as mother soothed you with quiet coos meant for a baby, even as she turned towards the kitchen to start on dinner, even as she sat you down and commented on your silence. even as she watched you absentmindedly pick on your food, even as she started to become agitated at your lack of response, and even as she treaded up the stairs to her bedroom. your eyes stayed glued to that one hand.

you blinked, eyes dry and mouth parched as you suddenly remembered that you weren't at the front door anymore while your mother cradled you in her arms.

your eyes drift to the front door, and you approach it slowly. you don't know why you stand there or why your hand touched the door knob.

maybe it's because you're hopeful that the man is behind this door. waiting patiently for you to open it, prepared with the words of acceptance. maybe something amongst it that helps you figure out what the hell to do.

"a school of them." you whispered, the only thing capable of leaving your dry mouth.

there was a school of them. proof that you really weren't alone in this cursed world. how could you possibly go back to the difficult life of acting as if everything was normal when it wasn't? blue auras were around everybody, and the grotesque creatures festered from the negative feelings surrounding those people. and there were those out there who knew how to get rid of those things for the sake of others.

knowing all of this, you couldn't stand by and not lend a hand, not learn to control the one thing that's burdened you your entire life. but..

you looked up the stairs, seeing just the top of your mothers door.

what would she do? she needed you. you both took care of each other, you couldn't leave her behind.

but you needed this. you wanted to figure all of this out. control theses abilities and hopefully get to know people who were just like you. and... you could always come back.

yeah.

who said you had to stay? you would go, go to jujutsu high, reach your goals, and return to your mother.

because even though you may make friends with those of similar backgrounds to you, your mother was a constant in your life, never changing. you couldn't abandon her. you wouldn't.

so with this new resolve in your heart, you snuck up to her room. she kept her door creaked for unknown reasons, maybe to keep an eye on you, but you ignored that and thanked its convenience for this very moment.

she was asleep. snoring.

you treaded carefully over to the bed, eyes focused on the bags growing under her lashes. the sight made your lips twitch into a small frown. you delicately tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. listening to her steady breathing as she dreamt the night away.

"wait for me, mother.”

you turned away and grabbed the piece of paper off of her nightstand, leaving the room with a sense of urgency.

you dialed yaga's number after locking your bedroom door, pacing around in circles as the phone rung. the ringing resonated in your ears like a ticking clock. you didn't really have time. if he wouldn't answer now you'd never get your chance.

your mom was an early bird and you could already feel yourself getting drowsy.

"i mean. who even calls this late. he might be asleep..." you whisper defeatedly and pull the phone away from your ear to hang up, but it lights up with his icon and you jump in excitement.

"miss. ogawa?"

"masamichi-san. it's [name]."

Dear mother,

I've departed, something I'm sure you noticed. As much as I wanted to obey you, I couldn't just abandon the opportunity that could help change my life for the better. I know you were trying to protect me, and I know that it's dangerous. But I can't live knowing that my life could be different. I can't just sit by and watch this spark of light dim, let my world go dark again. I'm not like you, mother. I will not stay ignorant. Wait for me, please.

I lov-

a loud shrewd rip echoes through the quiet house. your mother's eyes are dull, face empty as she starts furiously ripping the paper to shreds.

she suddenly screams out in anger, tears of frustration bubbling and blurring her vision. she grips her hair in agony as she starts chanting curses.

"dammit dammit, dammit!! i told her it was dangerous. i told her. damn her!! good for nothing daughter... not listening to a fucking word i say!!"

your mom stomps angrily out of her room, not caring for the small pieces of paper she tramples over.

"I love you,"

"mother."

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thefreakandthehair · 1 year ago

Text

steddie | rating: m | wc: 955 | tags: established relationship, use of cake as a metaphor, they're so in love your honor | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie Munson celebrates two birthdays every year: the day he was actually born, December 19th, and the day he woke up in the hospital, April 8th. Funny enough, the latter is usually a bigger celebration. Family and friends that no longer exist in separate groups come together with all of Eddie’s foods and drinks, small gifts and sometimes, a bigger gift from the collective.

Try as they might, they’ve yet to top the Metallica tickets.

But today is Eddie’s original birthday. December 19th— the one that’s usually swallowed up by the holidays, the one that really doesn’t mean all that much to him because, well, compared to waking up after saving the world, why would it? The last few celebrations have been tight-knit, mostly just himself, Wayne, and Steve either at Wayne’s trailer or the tiny little apartment Steve and Eddie managed to find for themselves.

This year, it’s just the two of them with no one to blame but Mother Nature. A blizzard drops nearly three feet of snow over northeastern Indiana and no one is going anywhere, least of all Wayne whose getting up there in years. We'll make up for it later, Eddie assures him when he calls with a stream of apologies.

How can he complain though? Wayne will make up for it, he’s snowed in with the love of his life, and the apartment smells like his favorite pasta sauce, the one he knows takes Steve hours to simmer. So no, he’s not disappointed. Not in the slightest.

“Sorry your day got snowed out,” Steve sighs, plopping down onto the couch and draping an arm along the back of the couch, toying with the ends of Eddie’s hair. “I did get you a surprise though.”

Eddie’s brow furrows, knitting tightly above his nose. There’s been no mail for two days, and their apartment doesn’t exactly lend itself to keeping secrets. “A surprise? What kinda surprise?”

“Well,” Steve smirks, confident in the way that always makes something stir in Eddie’s chest. “It’s not a birthday without a cake.”

He’s so fucking lost.

“A cake? We’ve been snowed in since Sunday and I would’ve smelled you baking in here. Also, I would’ve tasted it already, or at least demanded to lick the spoon so— wait, what are you doing?”

Steve stands up and walks around the back of the couch, just behind Eddie. “Just close your eyes, okay? Or do I need to blindfold you?”

He can hear Steve’s smug grin without even seeing his face and now it’s not just his chest stirring. Eddie shifts I’m his seat.

“No, no I can just close my eyes. Put a pin in the blindfold idea though.“

With his eyes closed, all he can do is imagine what the rustling is behind him, scenarios that will never compare to the sight he sees when Steve gives him the all clear.

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice now coming from directly in front of Eddie. “Open.”

Very funny, brain, he thinks. My entire life since the demobats has to have been just one long, final burst of dopamine before kicking the bucket because there’s absolutely no way this is fucking real.

Steve’s standing in front of him, shirtless, in nothing but some of the tightest shorts he’s seen Steve wear since the time he blindly walked into Scoops Ahoy asking for rum raisin and instead, got a fucking show. They’re dark maroon in hue with the word Cake printed in white script across the entirety of Steve’s ass. Moles litter his skin from the base of his neck down the flesh of his thighs, and the small indentation in his lower back is highlighted by the low waistband. Barely noticeable cuts in the sides expose what looks like black lace detailing.

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans, unable to stop himself from reaching out and touching the soft, cotton material.

“Yeah?” Steve looks over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “You like it?”

Eddie fingers trace the font and he doesn’t even dare to blink. If it is a coma dream, he doesn’t want to risk waking up. “Do I like it? If I ever say no to that, Steve, take me into a field and off me because I’ve been replaced by the body snatchers.”

Steve laughs and Eddie pulls him in closer, one hand on Steve’s hip and the other working its way up Steve’s thigh and beneath the fabric.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, swallowing with a dry mouth around the lump in his throat. “There’s just one little problem with this birthday cake.”

“What?” Steve looks back over his shoulder again, this time confused.

He gives his right cheek a light tap, just enough to relish in the way the plush flesh moves. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it need?”

“You know I need my cakes frosted. And c’mon,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s hairy thigh, just below the hem of the shorts. “Where’s the candle?”

Steve turns with a teasing grimace. “Did you just compare your dick to a candle?”

“Sure did. Is it working?” He smiles with his bottom lip between his teeth as he stands and places both hands in Steve’s hips.

“I can’t believe it, but yeah, it kinda is.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and back up.

Eddie can barely get his thoughts in order, placing both hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissing him between words.

“Best.” He kisses his forehead. “Birthday.” He kisses his nose. “Ever.” He kisses his lips.

They make their way back to the bedroom and no one can blame him for leaving Steve’s ass littered in purpling hickies and love bites.

It’s a cake, after all.

art by @firefly-party to celebrate @sidekick-hero's birthday today! here's a little collaboration to honor our favorite Cake Enthusiast! Sandy, we love you and hope you have the absolute best day. go give her some love, everyone!

#please rb if you enjoy!!#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanart #steddie art #steddie fanart #stranger things fanart #myblurbs

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sagesolsticewrites · 1 year ago

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religion's in your lips, the altar is my hips

in which Steve takes care of you after a bad day

- including but not limited to: praise kink, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), Steve lowkey being a service dom 👀

(this is. very self-indulgent. very veryyyyyy self-indulgent. you have been warned <3)

a/n: huuuge shoutout to @upsidedownwithsteve's (aka Emmy, Queen of Smutty Sunday <3) most recent smutty Sunday event for giving me inspiration to write my very first smutty fic! Obligatory disclaimer that yes, this is my very first smut fic ever, I am an ✨asexual virgin✨ please manage expectations accordingly, yada yada yada. Also so many hugs to my bestie Kenz @fangirl-imagines for looking this over before I posted it ☺️ Kenzie has some incredible fics, go support her y'all!

Word count: 2870

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT. MINORS BEGONE. 🔞

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

You let yourself into your apartment with a sigh, shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit as you step over the threshold into your home and finally toe off your heels.

Bypassing the darkened kitchen and empty living room, you open the door to your bedroom, where you knew you’d find a shirtless Steve in the middle of his post-work ritual of playing some game on his computer.

He looks up as you enter, face brightening with a smile as he greets you.

“Hey baby, how was—”

In lieu of an answer, you flop face first onto the bed with a groan.

You can hear the smile fade from his voice as he hisses sympathetically, “That bad, huh?”

You lift your chin so it’s propped up on the pillow as you explain your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

“You know that project that Marie was working on? She asked me for help on it, and I gave her some pointers, but she said she still wasn’t really understanding it so I ended up having to do all of it for her. And she’ll probably take all the credit for it, too.” You grumble, rolling your eyes, “And we had that meeting with our new clients, and my boss basically volun-told me to take notes for it, even though that’s really the liason’s job, and then she criticized me for not taking as detailed notes as Lauren even though that’s literally Lauren’s job! And she was there, she could’ve taken the notes, I don’t even—”

You shake your head in exasperation, shifting topics, “And then I didn’t even have time for lunch because Sara wanted me to help train the interns, and…” You end your rant with a groan, letting your face drop back into the pillow. “‘M just. So tired.”

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice turns soft as the pillow underneath your head, and he gets up from his spot at the desk to climb onto the bed, pulling you into his arms.

You curl into him instinctively, your head finding that space in the crook of his neck that feels like it was made for you personally, one hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, tracing patterns along the freckles and moles dotted along his skin.

“What can I do to help, honey?” Your boyfriend asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Jus’ wanna… I dunno, just. Stop.” You mumble against his shoulder, shrugging and curling further into him.

He hums in understanding, grabbing the hand that’s currently drawing invisible hearts around the moles near his collarbone and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You’ve been doing so much for everyone today,” he murmurs, voice layered with understanding and adoration as he leans in and peppers tiny kisses over your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, and you relax even more as his voice washes over you, “Worked so hard.”

He pulls you closer, scattering kisses all over as you finally release all the tension you’ve been holding, letting out a sigh and shifting in his arms to face him. You don’t realize you’re straddling him until you’re pressed nearly flush against him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His lips brush over every part of your face, down to your neck and then back up as you become putty in his hands, murmuring soft words of praise to you the whole time.

“You just need to stop working now, huh? Need to stop thinking,” His lips draw a path to your ear, where he whispers, “need to let someone else do all the work, huh, baby?”

A shiver runs down your spine, constantly in awe of the power just his voice has over you. His hand settles on your hip, a comforting, grounding weight while his other hand brushes a strand of hair back from your forehead. His lips work their way back down over your cheek, stopping to hover just over yours, mouths brushing together as he murmurs in a voice like silk, “Is that what you want, honey? Want me to take care of you?”

Warm chocolate eyes meet yours, soft, caring, always ensuring he has your consent before he does anything.

At your near-imperceptible nod, he drags his hand up to cup your chin, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

“Need your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to surge up and capture your lips with his.

As you brace yourself on his shoulders, his hands move to the thin strip of exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up. Your kisses become hungrier, ignoring your need for oxygen in favor of Steve’s plush, kiss-swollen lips, and he slowly drags up the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss briefly to get your permission.

At your eager nod, your shirt is off and tossed to some corner of the room, his mouth eagerly on yours once more.

You can feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this through his sweats, and you instinctively begin to rock in his lap, dragging your increasingly damp core over his.

His hands grip your hips, the familiar feeling sending a thrill through you… but rather than guiding your movements like he normally would, he holds them still.

You pull away, brow furrowed, but before you can voice your confusion, he flips you onto your back, moving to hover over you in one smooth movement.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your lips in a tone that sends a pulse of scorching heat to your core, “I’m doing all the work, sweetheart.”

The whimper you let out is muffled by his lips on yours once more, his wandering hands and hungry kisses making short work of turning you into a moaning, gasping mess.

“Steve,” you whine out his name as his lips travel down to your neck, and you can feel his smile against the hollow of your throat before he returns to licking and sucking dark patches into your skin, the occasional use of his teeth making delicious shivers shoot up your spine.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a mischievous twinkle mixed with the searing heat in them turning you molten as he asks, “What do you need?”

Unable to find the words, your hand finds his hair instead — God, that hair — and begins pushing him down towards where you really want him.

“‘M gettin’ there, honey, I promise,” he grins, pausing your efforts to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “Lemme take my time and I promise it’ll be worth it, ok?”

He reaches up to toy with the strap of your bra— a simple nude thing you could get away with wearing under a white shirt at work— a questioning look in his eyes answered by a furious nod from you.

He makes short work of the clasp, and that really should not be as hot as it is, but— oh who are you kidding, even his breathing is insanely hot right now.

You throw your head back as he presses kisses all over your chest, mumbling against your skin the whole time about how pretty you are, just gorgeous sweetheart, God, I can’t believe I get to do this for you…

Your head goes deliciously fuzzy with the praise, and you can’t quite form words so all you can do when he takes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it for good measure, is let out a keening “Ohhh” and instinctively tighten your grip on his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve groans, the noise sending heat racing through your body, and you grin knowing you were the one to elicit it, “You sound fucking incredible.” He murmurs more praise as he turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it just as much attention and eliciting more gasps and moans and whines from you before he continues his journey south.

You lift your head and watch as Steve Harrington fucking beams when he reaches your stomach, your pouch poking out slightly more than you’d like over the waistband of your jeans.

He meets your eyes, his own swimming with sincerity as he begins to scatter kisses over your midsection.

“You”

Kiss

“Are”

Kiss

“Fucking”

Kiss

“Stunning”

Kiss

When it seems like he’s covered every single inch of your exposed skin in kisses, remaining stubbornly focused on your torso when what you really want is for him to be significantly lower, he meets your eyes as he plays with the waistband of your jeans, once again wordlessly asking your permission.

And once again, your furious nodding is all the consent he needs to peel your jeans off and toss them away.

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, wide eyes on where your jeans once were, “Honey. Baby. Are you trying to kill me?” He says in a strangled voice at the sight of your simple lacy panties in a deep, wine-purple color— a color Steve once drunkenly confessed was his favorite, though he told anyone who asked he preferred red.

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain your grin, “I thought you might like those.”

“Like them?” He murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up through lidded eyes to meet your gaze as his own darkens, “I never wanna see you in anything else again.”

Your toes curl, and your breaths become shallow in anticipation as he scatters slow kisses all along your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart, stopping when he gets to the edge of the purple lace.

He holds your gaze, gauging your reaction as instead of pulling them down over your hips to toss to yet another corner of the room, he simply…

Pulls.

The lace.

To the side.

You barely have time to let out a quiet, shaky, “Oh my God,” at the ravenous look on Steve’s face before his mouth is on you and you forget how to think, you forget how to breathe, you forget everything except Steve.

Let it be known: Steve Harrington knew how to eat a girl out.

He licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him, his current strategy both too much and not enough.

He pauses just long enough to meet your eyes, pressing a single kiss to your clit that sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, before diving in.

His tongue finds your entrance with ease, the way his nose pushes through the thatch of wiry hair to nudge at your clit providing extra stimulation as he makes short work of making you fall apart. His tongue swirls through your folds as he lets out a languid moan at your taste.

“So fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your core, “So perfect, lettin’ me take care of you. This is all you needed, huh?” His eyes flick up to meet yours as you shudder and moan underneath him, struggling to keep your eyes on him.

He licks another languid path through your folds, savoring your taste, before continuing, his voice muffled as he licks and sucks at your entrance “Jus’ needed me to give you a break, needed me to tell you it’s okay to turn off your brain and jus’—” Steve punctuates his last words by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently “—be a good girl for me.”

The combination of stimulation to your clit and Steve’s words has your hips arching off the bed, despite your boyfriend’s best efforts to keep you still. You can feel him grin against you and let out a dark chuckle at the moan you let out at his last words in particular, the way your hand tightens and pulls at his hair all the evidence he needs.

Still, he asks you, though he doesn’t quite expect a coherent response.

“Aw, sweetheart. You like it when I call you a good girl? You like bein’ a good girl for me?” He purrs in a voice like syrup, lips still brushing your folds.

“Fuck, I— yes, Stevie,” you whine brokenly, gently gripping his hair in an attempt to bring him closer to where you want him, whimpering softly, “Stevie please.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, scattering kisses frustratingly just outside your core, “Jus’ trust me, I gotcha.”

You resist the urge to move, to just grab him and put him where you want him, even as you let out a frustrated whine.

Just as your patience is about to run out, you feel him smirk against you before diving back in, holding your legs apart as he sloppily licks and sucks at your entrance, his tongue diving deep inside you.

You let out a gasping moan as he attacks your core, practically clawing at his hair in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, your brain going fuzzy and then melting entirely when you hear the endless praise falling from his lips as he eats you out.

“So good for me sweetheart, just perfect— shit, do you have any idea how good you taste?” He groans against you, his thumb coming up to gently circle your clit as his other hand moves to splay flat over your hips, holding you as still as he can, “Could do this all fuckin’ day, god you’re amazing sweetheart—”

Then he clamps his lips around your clit and moans, and you’re fairly certain you’re going to die of pleasure, both your hands flying to grip his hair and yank as your back arches off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows, mouth open to let out a high, keening moan.

When you come back to your body, Steve is back to gently licking through your folds, and your hands claw at him, needing him to be closer.

“Steve,” you whine, “Stevie please, ‘m so close, I jus’— I need— please, baby.”

As your words turn into incoherent moans and pleas, Steve is quick to assure you, thumb returning to playing with your clit as he mumbles against you, “I know, honey, I know what you need and ‘m gonna give it to you, I promise. Been so good for me today, taken such good care of everyone, now it’s your turn, ‘m gonna make you feel so, so fuckin’ good, baby—”

He dives into you once more, thumb rhythmically circling your clit as his tongue hits every spot inside you in a pattern that has you turning to liquid underneath him, your legs hooking together behind his back to keep him right there, and your vision goes white as Steve brings you towards your release.

You let out a cry as you hit your climax, and Steve dutifully guides you through your orgasm, murmuring soft praises the whole time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs as he pulls away, mouth glistening and pupils dilated wide. Your hand cards through his soft brown waves, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Steve brushes gentle kisses to your inner thigh, your hipbone, your stomach, following a path up to capture your lips with his own, swallowing the contented sigh you let out.

He pulls away, meeting your gaze with a smile as he pecks your nose.

“Feelin’ better?”

You hum contentedly, “Much.” Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek as you pointedly glance down, “What about you?”

Steve lets out a mock-annoyed groan, forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“Baby, we just went over the whole thing about you not needing to take care of everyone.”

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze, “Seriously, though,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you into his chest, “I’m fine. This was about you, and I’m so glad I could help take care of you for once.”

You cup his cheek, turning his face to yours. You hope he can see every sincere, tender thought in your expression as you simply say, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. You know that.” He murmurs in response, lips quirking up into a small smile as he turns to press a quick kiss to your palm.

“So,” he says, fingers stroking through your hair, nudging your eyes closed, “nap time and then appetizer dinner? We’ve got mozzarella sticks and some chicken tenders I can throw in the oven.”

You grin, despite already being half-asleep, “That sounds perfect.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“I love you infinity.”

“I love you infinity plus one”

“I love you—”

“Alright, let’s call it a tie, babe.”

Tagging a couple friends! Hi besties @austin-butlers-gf @sassy-ahsoka-tano @dontbesussis

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #my writing #sage writes

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moonsaver · 11 months ago

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Yan!Dr. Ratio has an eye for observation.

That's one of the key basics, obviously. Observe, understand, break down, rearrange.. it's the most basic way to study the general constitution of basically everything.

However, desire does not elude the study of a subject. It continues to stain the pursuit of knowledge, leaving an ugly mark on his streak.

But desire is not what he would exactly frame it as.

Veritas did not ever predict voyeurism would become one of his hobbies, as disgusting as it sounds.

First comes curiosity, a spark. Then interest.. then the overwhelming urge to observe and understand.

His curiosity led to the small crack of your room's door. The dark hallway yet to be lit up by sunlight pouring in from any other rooms was somehow pierced through with a tiny string of light pouring in from your room.

He stepped carefully, as to not make a sound. His brows furrow in contemplation, as he observes your figure. It seemed you were changing into your daily wear, the soft thud of your night wear hitting the bare floor being the only noises that he could hear. He observes the stretch of your body as you put your clothing on, the slight movements you make as you adjust the clothing to your body, tugging and pulling the fabric. He decides to leave, quietly sighing under his breath.

His keen eye for observation, or rather, observing you, becomes much more clearer to him after a few more incidents of similar behavior.

Perhaps when he clicked his tongue as he saw you spill water over yourself, the wet fabric squelching slightly as you pull it over your head, some of the liquid transferring onto your torso. He watches, almost absentmindedly, the sheen of your wet skin under the light as you curse under your breath.

Or perhaps he sees you unbuckling your bra, sighing at the feeling of the fabric loosening around your chest, as he watches the muscles of your back relax, and expand with each deep breath. The strap of your bra falls over your shoulder, and Veritas decides to look away. He knows when to stop observing.

And when, as usual, he decides to force you into bed with him, hands wrapped tightly around your waist pulling you closer to him, he has a chance to study your body in a closer proximity. His coarse hands are coated with oils, or lotions, as they massage a bit too slowly and sensually for your liking, into the curves of your waist, the sides of your hips, etching closer and closer to your chest, as he stays quiet, observing your body with a tense expression, eyebrows knitted in concentration and faux irritation. The glow of your body after he's done reminds him of the water sticking to your skin.

He huffs and moves back when you ask him what's wrong, breaking his minute of silence. He closes the product with a loud "click", and adjusts himself into bed to hold you against him much too close for your comfort. As if that matters to him.

Veritas starts to notice details about your body. Placements of moles, stretchmarks, cellulite.. he should consider these the next time he decides to capture you in clay and marble.

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wheeboo · 1 year ago

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06:43pm | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which you ask your sleepy husband the *most* important question in the world. PAIRING. husband!kim mingyu x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, tiny bit suggestive at the end, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing, terms of endearment, implied that he’s um shirtless WORD COUNT. 916

"Gyu?"

Mingyu stirs slightly right next to you, and you would think he would open his eyes up to his name, but he doesn't. You see the way he falls back into his napping state, and it makes you chuckle softly. Reaching a careful finger out, you faintly trace the line of his cheekbone, mapping out to the mole to his cheek, while relishing the soft warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

You notice a faint smile quivering of his lips from your feather-light touch. It's a heartwarming sight, knowing that even in his dreams, he seems content, peaceful. However, your gentle touch eventually awakens him from his slumber, and he shifts once more, this time more noticeably.

With a soft groan, his eyes slowly flutter open, gaze meeting yours, and he manages a tired, yet affectionate smile, hands coming to grab at the sheets to cover over his bare upper body. Your finger is still tracing down his jawline, and he shivers with a pleasant shudder at your touch.

"Hi," You greet him softly.

"Hey," he mumbles with half-lidded eyes, voice still husky from the long nap.

"I have a question for you," You tell him, keeping your tone serious. "It's very important, and I want you to be fully, one-hundred percent honest with me right now."

He yawns, letting his arms stretch as he lets out a deep breath, before encircling back around you and pulling you closer to him. You watch the way his sleepy grin transforms into a contented smile as he holds you close, feeling the way his chest rises and falls with each breath that left those pretty lips of his.

"M’kay," he responds quietly.

There's a playful glint in your eyes that he swears he sees, but he's too tired to fully register it and way too comfortable to say anything more, so he just watches you in anticipation.

You lean in closer, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Mingyu's drowsy gaze meets yours, and he blinks slowly and furrows his brows together, as if he's processing the question like he's hearing it for the first time, or like a puzzle he has to put together in his sleepy mind. You swear you could see the way the question bounces around in his half-awake thoughts, playing in his brain like a delightful riddle.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs. "we're married."

He's right, of course. His words hang in the air for a moment, and then a knowing smile spreads across your face, realising how absurd it may seem to ask such a question after all this time together, but you know you just asked for his reaction. You can't help but burst into a fit of giggles at his groggy yet utterly adorable state. Mingyu only blinks at your laughter, looking momentarily puzzled before a small smile crosses his lips.

"Oops," You quip teasingly. "I guess I forgot."

He pouts exaggeratingly at this, and not just a pout, but a pout pout. "How could you forget that?"

His sulky expression tugs endearingly at your heartstrings. You reach out to gently cup his cheek apologetically, your thumb brushing over his lower lip.

"Aw, my sweet baby," You coo amusingly. "I didn't forget, I promise. I'm just teasing, and I love hearing it from you."

Even if you've been married for years now, the way his cheeks flush a soft pink at your words, and the way his eyes light up with adoration, makes your heart flutter just as it did when you were just young, dumb, and in love. There's something about hearing those reminders that yes, you are married𑁋you married the love of your life, the same man who you've been pining for since the moment you laid eyes on him and who still makes your heart skip a beat after all these years.

The journey from strangers to friends, to dating, to finally saying "I do" had been filled with ups and downs, but it was a journey you wouldn't trade a single second of it for anything in the world, all because it led you to this exact moment.

"Hmm, you better not forget ever," he warns, letting out a faux grumble, but you notice the corners of his lips are fighting back a smile. You know he can never stay mad for long, especially when you tease him like this. "or I'd have to remind you every day."

I wouldn't mind that, You think, chuckling softly before leaning in to plant a loving kiss on his pouty lips, which seems to melt away any lingering sleepiness surrounding him instantly. I wouldn't mind that at all.

When you press another kiss to his lips, he responds by deepening it almost naturally, his strong arms coming to wrap around you more tightly. You feel the way he smiles under the kiss, the warmth of his body enveloping you completely. And when you feel his fingers start to dance along your back, you let out let out a soft, breathy sigh against his lips, and there's a smirk that forms at his mouth from the response he elicits from you.

His lips part from yours, and he trails a line of soft kisses along your jawline, each one causing your heartbeat to quicken. He nuzzles his face against your neck, peppering it with affectionate kisses that make you lightly giggle, before coming to the sensitive spot behind your ear.

"And you're not just pretty, honey," he whispers between kisses, warm breath caressing against your skin, and you tilt your head back slightly to grant him more access. "You're goddamn breathtaking."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo

#kflixnet #k-labels #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu fic #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fic #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt fic

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soloroomies · 7 months ago

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lifemate (Chapter 10/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: coming to terms with the feeling you harbor for him, a feeling you dare not admit even to yourself. After all, he could never feel the same way about you, right? word count. 3.6k cw. marriage pact au, mature content, mild smut, fluff, angst a/n. moree fluffs and... here comes the storm... :(

Masterlist

In the morning, you wake up to find Kiyoomi’s side of the bed empty. He’s already awake. You check your phone and see that it’s still 7 in the morning. Oh! Kiyoomi’s family is here. You get on your feet immediately, and as soon as you open the door, you're greeted by the sight of Granny and Kiyoomi’s dad having a conversation on the couch. You look around for Kiyoomi and see him sweeping near the balcony.

“Good morning,” you greet Kiyoomi’s dad and Granny as they greet you back.

You head to the kitchen and find Kiyoomi’s mom rummaging through the fridge. “Hey… mom,” you say, the word feeling a bit strange on your tongue, but you remember her telling you to call her mom.

“Oh, hey darling. I’m just looking for some ingredients to make breakfast,” she replies with a warm smile.

“Do you want pancakes? Because I already have the batter. It’s ready to be cooked.”

“That sounds good, darling. Let me just cook those,” she says.

You take out the airtight container with the batter inside and place it on the kitchen island. Kiyoomi’s mom opens it and starts scooping the batter onto the pan. While she’s cooking, you prepare the fruit for the pancake toppings. You put strawberries, blueberries, and chopped bananas in bowls so everyone can choose their own toppings. Then, you also take out butter and honey.

You glance over at Kiyoomi’s mom, who has finished making a stack of pancakes. She asks you to have some. You call everyone to the kitchen, and soon, everyone is seated in the living room, enjoying the breakfast together.

After eating, Kiyoomi’s mom suddenly announces that she brought something special from her house. “Here! I brought this photo album,” she says, waving the big photo album with a grin. “I think it would be cute if you both have this,” she adds. “Want to take a look?”

You nod enthusiastically as his mom sits on your left side. Kiyoomi, sitting on your right side, groans, “Mom, please. Not those pictures.” You lightly swat Kiyoomi’s thigh, trying to suppress a smile.

Kiyoomi’s mom starts to go through the photo album, showing a baby picture of Kiyoomi. You can’t help but coo at the picture, which shows him with doe eyes, chubby cheeks, and his two signature moles on his forehead. Some of the photos show him with his older siblings, with him being the smallest of the three. “Aw! Look at you! You used to be so small,” you say as he leans in to see the picture. He scoffs, as you pinch his cheek.

Granny, peeking from behind the couch, says cheekily, “You’d be happy to have a tiny version of both of you, I assure you.” You smile and look at Kiyoomi, noticing his ears reddening. Since when does he blush?! You laugh at him and cling to his arm, leaning on his shoulder.

As you continue to flip through the pages, you see pictures of him in middle school, already looking taller. Then, there are high school pictures, which include some of you, him, and Komori. “You look the same,” Kiyoomi remarks, making you squint at him playfully.

“Is it a compliment?” you ask.

“It is,” he says so matter-of-factly, making you bite your lip, trying to contain yourself from blushing.

Kiyoomi’s mom points to another picture. “Here, this is when you came to the house to bake with me.” In the picture, your hands were covered in flour as Kiyoomi helped you put on an apron. You recall forgetting to wear it but deciding to put it on to avoid dirtying your shirt. You smile at the memory.

Kiyoomi’s mom giggles and points at another photo. “Here is one of your study sessions.” The picture shows tired faces of you and Kiyoomi, with Komori’s back facing the camera.

“This is after you fell from the bike, right?” you ask.

Kiyoomi groans, “Please don’t remind me,” but you can see him smiling slightly, remembering the funny incident. You remember he was speed pedaling his bike in front of you, then stood and lifted his front wheel to ascend the next pavement to avoid a bump. However, the wheel unexpectedly came off its socket, the fork hit the ground, and he went flying a few meters onto the asphalt. It was super funny, and you were exploding with laughter, but you tried to calm yourself because you felt so bad for him. Thankfully, he was only left with minor scars. The next day was an exam, so you and Komori quickly treated him at his house and had a study session afterward.

“Sorry. It was funny!” you say, laying your hand on the side of his face. He frowns, but it literally looks like a pout, and you can’t help but feel endeared. So, you lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. You notice him trying to fight his smile, which only makes you snicker.

After you go through the photo album, Kiyoomi places it on the shelf in the living room. You notice a tightness in your chest, feeling a wave of nostalgia for your life with Kiyoomi. You’re so glad that he has stayed close to you even after you both graduated from high school, despite you both having a very different career path which makes both of your worlds never collide. Also, despite his reserved personality, he still consistently shows efforts to be there for you. You always thought he would be a friend you met occasionally and that he might forget you as time passed. But here you are, married. Is this how the universe intends to keep you both close? You really don’t know.

After this realization, you can’t help but feel incredibly sentimental. You find yourself clinging to Kiyoomi's side, unable to pull away. You feel a bit guilty for being so clingy, but his reciprocation reassures you. When everyone decides to take a nap, you and Kiyoomi stay lounging on the couch. You keep asking him trivial questions, just to keep him close, and he answers each one with a soft tone. He pulls you by the waist, hugging you from behind as you both sit and talk. He kisses your shoulder occasionally, sending shivers down your spine. Despite feeling sleepy, you both continue to chat until you eventually drift off together on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms.

When you open your eyes, you see Kiyoomi’s parents and granny giggling in front of you. You find yourself still on the couch, with Kiyoomi starting to wake up behind you. “Oh dear, these lovebirds,” Granny says, still laughing.

Kiyoomi’s mom smiles warmly. “We want to take a stroll around the town and explore some culinary delights. Wanna join?”

You nod eagerly. “Sure! Kiyoomi and I can recommend some great places!” you say as you get up, followed by Kiyoomi.

The day goes by with all of you strolling around the park and eating at a nearby restaurant. When the sun starts to set, you all take a seat back at the park to watch it. Kiyoomi’s mom buys some ice cream for everyone except Granny. Honestly, you’re surprised by how much walking Granny can manage.

Kiyoomi’s mom explains, “She likes to walk a lot. She’s been doing it since she was young.”

You nod, understanding. That’s her secret to staying fit!

As you all sit and enjoy the sunset, you feel a deep sense of contentment. Surrounded by Kiyoomi’s family, sharing laughter and stories, you realize how much these moments mean to you. Kiyoomi’s hand finds yours, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. You look at him and smile.

The moment everyone arrives at the apartment, they quickly change into more comfortable clothes. The atmosphere is relaxed as everyone lounges on the couch, winding down with takeaway Thai food for dinner. Kiyoomi excuses himself early, mentioning he needs rest for his match tomorrow. His match is scheduled for 1 pm, while Komori also coincidentally has a match at 4 pm, so everyone plans to watch both.

You engage in a pleasant chat with Kiyoomi’s family until everyone starts to feel sleepy and decides to head to bed. Entering Kiyoomi’s room, you find the light already dimmed and Kiyoomi asleep. You lie on your side of the bed, slipping under the blanket. As you begin to drift off, you feel Kiyoomi rolls from his side of bed to yours, and wraps you in his arms. He always feels so warm. You turn your back to him and make yourself comfortable. His steady breath from behind you evokes a sense of warmth that makes you fall asleep even faster than usual.

In the morning, everyone starts getting ready. You and Kiyoomi’s mom make breakfast together, eat, and then you take a shower. The enthusiasm of Kiyoomi’s family to attend his match is evident, as they get ready quickly. Seeing Kiyoomi this morning, you're reminded of the fact that you both have been cuddling yesterday. The nap and last night’s sleep. You don’t know what happened between the both of you, but you can’t say you’re not happy with the change. It is a welcomed change.

At the stadium, you meet Komori and Mia. Kiyoomi heads off to practice and warm up with his team while you and the others take seats on the bleachers. You also run into Aiko, who joins you, and all of you start to engage in a small talk.

Before the match starts, you visit the team’s locker room to wish them luck. Today, Kiyoomi has more visitors than usual, and he looks a bit flustered by his family’s enthusiasm. You laugh and give him a hug before he lines up and steps onto the court.

MSBY is back in top form, securing a landslide victory after last week's tough loss. You cheer loudly, thrilled by the win and the joy on Kiyoomi’s family’s faces. Kiyoomi’s mom even scolds Granny to tone down her cheering a bit, earning laughter from others.

Afterward, you stay to watch Komori’s match with Kiyoomi, who has showered and changed, and his family. You're excited to see Komori in action again, especially after his match with Kiyoomi a few weeks ago.

A few minutes into the match, you find yourself getting really into it. You're happy to have Kiyoomi beside you to explain some tricks and terms in volleyball.

"Damn! Mori is on fire," you exclaim.

Kiyoomi chuckles. "Yes, he is."

"Who's that number 7?" you ask, pointing at the player. Kiyoomi's gaze follows your finger.

"Oh, him?" Kiyoomi replies. You nod. "That's Suna Rintarō. He's the middle blocker."

You unknowingly observe the middle blocker with your mouth agape, amazed by his quick reflexes to block the opposing team's spike.

"What?" Kiyoomi asks, noticing your expression.

You snap your head to him at his bitter tone. "He's good," you say.

Kiyoomi scoffs. "Yeah. I was able to cut through his block anyway."

You raise your eyebrows at him. Okay. Is he… being jealous?! You laugh at his reaction. He keeps his stare ahead. Clinging to his arm, you say, "Of course, you're even better, Omi." You laugh again, not believing he could act like this.

After the match finishes, you part ways with Komori and head back home. As you arrive, Kiyoomi’s family starts to pack up to return to their home. You feel a pang of sadness as they wave goodbye, but you promise to visit them during the holiday season.

You start to move your belongings from Kiyoomi’s room to yours, feeling an unknown emotion stirring. But said emotion is most likely a negative one. Is it sadness? Why, though?

You're about to head to your room after dinner with Kiyoomi when you hear him call your name. You turn around. "Yeah?"

He steps toward you and holds you by the waist, closing the distance between you. "I just–" he brings your hand to his cheek and kisses it, "I want to appreciate how wonderfully you’ve been hosting my family," he says earnestly.

You're taken aback by his affectionate words. He’s not usually this expressive. You smile at him. "It’s my pleasure, too, you know?" you reply, pulling him by the collar and tiptoeing your way to kiss him.

He lifts you up and carries you to his room. His lips trail from yours, moving downward as he undresses you. You feel weak at the knees under his ministrations, each touch lingering in a way you've never felt before. He worships every inch of your body with his hands and lips, kissing you from your calf to your core while mumbling praises. You can't find the strength to move a single muscle; he makes you that weak.

The way his eyes burn into yours and roam over your body doesn't make you feel exposed. Instead, it brings a profound sense of security and comfort. It makes you feel like you can entrust your whole life to him. When you kiss, you don’t want to stop. You just want him to be as close as possible to you.

As he thrusts into you, he looks dazzlingly handsome. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his hair framing his face so perfectly. He stares at you with such adoration, you can almost describe the feeling with a word. It teeters on the tip of your tongue. It can’t be. It can’t be, right?

His hands entwine with yours, fitting perfectly. You feel a surge of that emotion so strong that it brings you to tears. And as you come undone with him, you let those tears flow, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. He hugs you tightly, kissing your teary eyes and gazing at you longingly while he caresses your hair.

As you start to calm down after your high, you begin to get up.

"Stay," Kiyoomi says, holding you by the waist. You always left. He always left. This is new. But honestly, you can’t find it in yourself to part ways with him either. It’s just your habit, to leave the room after you both had sex. You kiss him and nod. "Okay. I’ll just clean myself and bring my pillow here." He smiles contentedly at you.

When you return, he's still awake, watching you as you enter the room. You place your pillow beside him and slip under the blanket. Turning to face him, you see he’s already looking at you. He shortens the distance between you, just a breath away, and looks deeply into your eyes. Your face burns with shyness under his intense gaze. He smiles, caressing the side of your head, "You’re so beautiful," he says, kissing your forehead.

That night, you finally understand what it means to "sleep like a baby."

After that eventful night, you naturally become even closer to Kiyoomi. The wall that once kept you apart has crumbled away. Ironically, you've been sleeping in his bedroom for four nights in a row, despite having just moved all your belongings back to your own room.

At the office today, you receive a message from Kiyoomi. He informs you that he'll be home late and you should have dinner without him. You smile and reply, ‘Okay. Don’t be too late♡’.

Today is Thursday, and you're happy because tomorrow Tami is coming to town. She has some work to do in the morning, but nothing after that, so you both agree to catch up and have a night out together. She will also attend Kiyoomi’s match on Saturday. Despite your insistence that she stay in your apartment, she declined, saying she wants to enjoy staying in a hotel and ordering room service. You laugh at that.

When you get home after work, you quickly unwind, change your clothes, and make yourself dinner. However, after cooking, you realize you've made way too much food for just yourself. You're too used to making dinner for both of you.

After eating, you feel bored and alone in the house. You huff, glancing at the kitchen counter where the leftover food sits. A light bulb goes off in your head. Why not bring dinner to his practice?

You quickly pack the food and send him a few messages, letting him know you're coming to his practice. You know where he always trains, and maybe you could meet Fumi and have a chat with her. You’re way too bored to stay home alone.

You order an online taxi, checking your phone and noticing that Kiyoomi hasn’t replied to your texts. He's probably too busy to check his phone anyway.

You arrive at the gym where Kiyoomi practices every day. As you walk inside, the sounds of players practicing fill the air. You consider taking a seat in the bleachers but decide to go to the restroom first. While washing your hands, a very beautiful woman enters the room and starts washing her hands beside you. You notice that she keeps glancing at you through the reflection in the mirror. When you catch her eyes, you smile politely at her.

Just as you're about to leave, she speaks up. "You’re Omi’s wife, right?"

You’re surprised by her use of his nickname. She must be close to him. Turning around, you see her with an unreadable expression that makes you uncomfortable. Trying to remain polite, you reply, "Um, yeah." Your answer is met with a snicker. You raise your eyebrows at that.

"Sorry, do I know you?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"No, and it’s better if you don’t," she says, walking past you. Just before exiting the room, she gives you a final look. "It’s good that he decided to wife up someone. But, you know what? One woman isn’t enough for someone like him."

You’re left speechless, mouth agape. What the actual fuck? First of all, who is she? You're not asking this in a condescending way; you’re genuinely curious. She calls him Omi and the way she acts, she seems to hate you. Secondly, what in the world? You're flabbergasted at encountering a real-life mean girl. You thought the last time you'd see behavior like that was in middle school or something. You're almost 30 for god sake, and she looks around your age too. Seriously, you're shocked to the core.

Lastly, her final sentence stings. It feels like a slap, waking you from a daydream. The last few days have felt like a hallucination. Did you really believe that Kiyoomi could feel that way towards you? Were you being too naive?

You shake yourself from your thoughts, remembering why you came here in the first place: the dinner. You walk out of the restroom and coincidentally bump into Fumi.

"Oh, hey! I’m surprised to see you here! You want to see Sakusa-san?" she asks cheerily.

Still a bit distracted, you offer your best smile and nod at her. She looks at your hand and sees the food box you brought.

"Aw! You brought him dinner! Let’s see if he’s taking a break or not." She takes your hand and leads you to the bleachers to watch him on the court from there.

It turns out he is indeed taking a break, sitting on the bench. You’re about to come down from the bleachers to meet him when you see the woman you met in the restroom earlier approaching him. She sits beside Kiyoomi on the bench while he’s drinking water, and you notice they’re having a conversation. She wears a black tank top that hugs her curves perfectly, with a low neckline showing her cleavage. She's really beautiful, you think, feeling a wave of insecurity within you. You also notice that they’re sitting very close to each other.

You’ve always known Kiyoomi to be very particular about his personal space, usually keeping a distance from people, especially if he doesn’t know them well. But with the way she leans into him and how he seems unbothered, you can tell they are close. Then you see her put her hand on Kiyoomi’s thigh, making you walk away from where you’re sitting. Your heartbeat increases, and an emotion stirs inside you.

You didn’t realize that Fumi had been watching the whole ordeal and following you until she says, “Uh, yeah, I guess you already know her.”

You’re confused. “What?”

Fumi looks surprised. “Hasn’t Sakusa-san told you?”

You look away from her. “Uh, no.”

"I really don’t want to start anything between you," Fumi continues. "But now that you’ve seen it…"

Fumi hesitates before adding, “Um, they used to hook up. For… quite some time. Everyone practically knows it ‘cause she can’t keep her mouth shut. She’s part of our social media team.” She clears her throat.

You widen your eyes at that. Oh, right. What did you expect? He always attracts a lot of people. There’s no way he didn’t attract anyone in his workplace. Can you even blame him? He literally looks like that.

You bite your lip, feeling your chest tighten. Why the hell are you so frustrated? This is one of the things you’ve agreed to when you signed up for this. Why would this marriage stop him from getting any girl he wants? You’re not exclusive, right? Feeling the pitying stare from Fumi, you wave your hand dismissively and laugh.

"It’s okay. Everyone has their past, right?"

"The thing is," Fumi continues, "she still tries to seduce him or whatever. I mean, you saw how she put her hand on him!"

Fumi keeps talking about how the woman continues her advances despite knowing about his marriage. You feel overwhelmed by what you just saw, the information Fumi keeps giving you and your mind starts making up scenarios of something you hope is not true. You want to tell her that you’re not involved romantically like that, but of course, you can’t. And you’re not sure you can even speak on your behalf. Because, at least on your part, you do feel something nowadays. You’re fucked up. You really don’t know what to do.

Taglist: @wolffmaiden , @fiannee , @nightlydream , @choizzn , @peachyaeger @crxm-dollx , @marisabel14 , @yunskook

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