#my last class on the other hand…ugh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 11 months ago

Text

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna.

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.”

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too.

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You.

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?” You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Weird.

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account?

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got.

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.”

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off.

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man.

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion.

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor.

This was absolute torture.

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…”

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice.

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now.

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips.

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to admit - “-virgin.”

Oh.

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped.

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not?

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation.

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted.

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly.

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice.

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again.

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is.

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other.

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit.

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it.

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?”

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were.

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy.

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster.

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices.

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you.

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm.

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more.

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet.

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both?

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection.

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door.

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone.

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing.

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word.

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you. Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world.

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully.

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all.

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles.

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead.

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy.

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter?????

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack.

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy.

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already.

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game.

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum.

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over.

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him.

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you.

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will.

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there.

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter.

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

“Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.”

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body.

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him.

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but.

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you?

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit.

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again.

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you.

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you.

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs. So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all.

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won.

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera.

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies??

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right?

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo #gojo x reader

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enyaliuswrites · 3 months ago

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➽ Just for Practice

Caleb x fem!reader Thank you @erensfeed for the idea and all the help she gave me!! Tysm nunnie! Hope this is a nice surprise for when you wake up <3 warnings: suggestive topics, mature, kissing (of course)

"Kissing? That’s what got you so worked up? Kissing is why you haven’t been eating my braised pork?" Caleb's lilac eyes fix on you like you’re crazy, a hint of something darker lurking beneath as he frowns.

"Ugh, I told you you wouldn’t get it." you groan, flopping onto your bed in frustration and avoiding his gaze, you didn’t want to see Caleb judging you.

Your high school graduation is just a few months away, but so far, every girl in your class won’t stop talking about the people they’ve kissed this year. Some have only had one kiss, others have had plenty, but out of all of them, you’re the only one who hasn’t had a single one yet. It’s not your fault—you’ve just never found yourself even a little bit attracted to anyone at school.

You didn’t even notice your appetite waning, your mind preoccupied with this. With graduation nearing, the last thing you wanted was to feel left out—missing out on bonding with your friends was the last thing you wanted.

“What’s so special about kissing?? It barely means anything.” his face twists into confusion and disgust, as if really trying to grasp why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Caleb silent mouths ‘kissing?’ before shifting his gaze back to you—just in time for you to throw a pillow straight at his face. But the pillow stops mid-air in front of his face, before dropping onto his lap as he leans back against the chair at your study desk.

“All of my friends have already had their first kiss. That’s like the only thing they’re talking about these days.” Your lips push up into a pout as you grab one of the stuffed animals nearest to you and hug it, allowing your head to rest on the plushie.

“And you’re jealous?” You choke on your saliva, coughing and hacking as your wide eyes meet his—one eyebrow raised and eyes heavy with disbelief. Caleb would’ve never guessed that his girl would grow up to be worried over something as minuscule as a kiss, especially a kiss with someone else.

“I’m not jealous! I mean like… It’s not like… Okay, maybe just a little?” your hands flail wildly all over as you try to defend yourself, but to no avail. Feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks, you take a quick glance and see that Caleb's gaze has darkened.

“Do you even know how to kiss?”

“Caleb… That’s a stupid question,” you murmur, already knowing the answer. Caleb knew that too. “Why would I be so worked up if I—”

With his lilac eyes fixed on you, he tilts his head slightly, then leans forward. “Would you like to know how?” His words cut through your sentence, leaving your lips parted in shock as you prop yourself back up, still clutching the plushie to your chest.

“What? What do you mean?” your brain struggles to process his words, unable to fully make sense of them as you frown and watch him get up. Caleb's tall figure towers over yours as he steps closer, leaning casually against the wall, making you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“I can teach you then, Pip-squeak.” His body lowers, closing the gap between you two as your grip on the plushie loosens. You try to back away, only to find your back pressing against the headboard just inches away.

“I… I mean… does this count as my first kiss?” His right hand reaches out, gently caressing your cheek before softly holding your chin, guiding it towards him.

“Hmm. Think of this as practice.” Caleb's grip on your chin is soft and gentle, completely opposite from his hazy, clouded gaze.

“Oh. Oh…kay then-” you draw the ‘o’ out but as soon as the confirmation leaves your mouth, his lips brush softly against yours. With your eyes closed shut and brows furrowed, he slowly moves, capturing your bottom lip between his own with a delicate pull.

Your body sinks further into the mattress, plush pillows pressing against your back. The bed groans under Caleb's weight as he closes the distance between you, one large palm placed on your hips while the other rests on the headboard. You kiss him back, or at least you try to. You move your lips in the same motion of waves as he does, but everything feels so awkward and off.

Feeling quite embarrassed, and out of air, your intended gently nudges on Caleb's tank top quickly turns into desperate grasps before the kiss finally breaks. You felt like you’ve just ran a marathon—body burning up and your lungs out of breath as you pant, trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could while avoiding eye contact. Though it was harder than you thought, because Caleb was now on top of you, his smirk haunting you as your cheeks flush.

“H-hey! Don’t look at me like that. I told you I don’t know how to kiss…” Your voice grows quieter each passing second as it somehow ends up as a tiny squeak. The sound of Caleb's laughter fills your ears as you turn back to him, his knee now finds itself between your legs as his face hovers just above yours.

“You’re overthinking this, Pip-squeak. Just follow what I do.” Though his words are reassuring, that husky tone in his voice throws you off as he quickly captures your lips into a kiss for the second time. Caleb's lips move against yours in a soft, sensual way as you try your best to mimic him. Remembering what he did to you, you trap the soft fullness of his lower lip and gently apply suction to it. His hums of approval catch you off guard as you feel a subtle rumble of his chest—Caleb's hand snaking down to the small of your back, before pulling your body flush against his.

As if a flip has just been switched, Caleb's lips move frantically against yours, biting your lower lips then soothing the sting with his tongue. Your lips part at the sudden pain, allowing his tongue to delve into your mouth. Soft whimpers escape from your throat as Caleb explores you, tracing every corner and leaving an odd-yet-pleasurable feeling as he does so. Surprised, and a little scared, you push his body off of yours as you cover your mouth in shock, the faint apple taste still lingering in your mouth.

“Your tongue… Do you still use that apple flavored toothpaste or something? Because that’s all I’m feeling? Tasting?” Caleb grabs your hands, lowering it as a light chuckle leaves his lips.

“You’re a natural, Pip-squeak.” Completely ignoring what you just said as his thumb caresses your cheek and he stares at your lips, as if capturing them in a kiss with his eyes, “But I think you need a little bit more practice. What do you say?”

“Oh….Um…” Your voice comes out as uncertain mumbles and murmurs while his face only inches closer to yours. That’s when you realize how Caleb's body is pressed against yours, radiating heat—how heat crept up his neck and spreaded to his ears. How his lilac eyes were still clouded with a hazy and clouded look.

“I think you need more practice.” Caleb already had a taste of you and now he can’t get enough. Your scent seeps into his senses, impossible to ignore—like an addict chasing his next fix. He took your first kiss and now he’s going to take your every first. He was going to make sure of it.

A/N: Ughhh, this was quite hard to write considering I’ve never kissed anyone before. BUT. I have read many writings about kissing so I hope that’ll make up for this. Stay delusional ya’lls! (*´∀`*) Dividers by @omi-resources

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kohakhearts · 1 year ago

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god give me the strength to do laundry

#and all that other shit #looks despairingly at this year’s yet unfiled insurance claims #at least…there is money in my future…sobbing into my hand #hands. plural. ANYWAY #today’s big goal is laundry obviously but also making space on my desk #i havent seen the surface of that thing since august. if that #and if i do my dishes and all that like a good boy then i can write my silly little fanfics #classes start tomorrow so this is my last chance to get my life in order but i get slam-dunked by school #taylor.txt #not that im worried about school this semester the hard part is very much over #but i also have to deal with the whole. graduating. ugh. need a haircut need to do photos need to apply need to this need to that #dont even . ask me about healthcare . good grief

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xoxojisu · 9 days ago

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"LALALALA"

synopsis: yapper reader x listener katsuki. in which you finally get to see katsuki!

notes: grumpy x sunshine also. basically just yap yap yap reader and bro stfu katsuki. based on some prompt i remember seeing forever ago. deviating from my usual 'reader and katsuki childhood friends go to ua tg' bc this is such a cute idea

the field is buzzing, students from different hero schools gathering in small groups and instructors calling out over the noise generating quite the racket. there’s tension, excitement, and a bit of rivalry in the air. class 1-a stands off to the side, eyes scanning the new arrivals. bakugo stands isolated from the group with his arms crossed, mouth already in a deep scowl.

he hates group exercises. hates surprise training simulations. hates-

“katsuki!!”

and then it happens.

a blur comes flying in from the other side of the field. he hears it before he sees it, and by the time he turns his head, it’s too late. you launch yourself at him from behind, tackling him in a full-body hug that actually makes him take a step forward. his body tenses immediately, hands twitching instinctively like he might throw you off-

but he doesn’t. he would never.

“kats! kats!” you giggle, climbing halfway up his back like he’s your personal jungle gym. you hook your chin over his shoulder, big goofy grin stretching across your face as you hug him tight. “hi!!”

there’s a long pause. bakugo doesn’t move. doesn’t shout. doesn’t blow anything up. the whole world stills in suspense.

eventually, he sighs, a hint of a not-angry expression present on his face. "hi."

“uh… are we… seeing this?” kirishima says under his breath, eyes wide.

“kats, i swear, it feels like it’s been forever since i’ve seen you! i mean, seriously, how is it that we’re both doing this hero thing and still barely getting any time to hang out? it’s like the universe just hates us or something. i’ve been stuck in this crazy hellfire intensity training like all week, and it’s not even the fun kind, it’s just endless drills and lectures and like ugh ohmygod, i’m so over it. anyway, i missed you kats!! how are you? healthy? well? making friends? wait, who am i kidding. youre definitely healthy because youre like a health-conscious old man, and definitely no friends."

you’re talking so fast he doesn’t have time to respond to anything. he just stares down at you, not saying a word or moving an inch.

eventually, he reaches out, drops a heavy hand onto your head, and mutters, “shut up.”

you beam like he just handed you flowers. “there he is,” you giggle, grabbing his arm and hugging it to your chest. “so grumpy. so cute. i miiiissed you!”

he grumbles something pissy under his breath, but makes no move to pull away.

aizawa’s voice cuts through the air. “pair off.”

despite you already hanging on him, bakugo grabs you immediately. “we’re teaming up.”

“wait, what?” mina says from behind him. “you’re not gonna work with us?”

“we’re teaming up,” he snaps again, louder this time, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“but you always-”

“shut up. all of you. shut. the fuck. up.”

you’re already bouncing beside him, eyes bright. “oh my god, kats, i have so many ideas. okay, okay—what if you blow a hole in the wall and you know how i texted you last week about that new feature on my costume? i could use that to- wait! or we could climb over the roof and-”

“you talk too much,” he mutters, dragging you along gently despite his annoyed expression.

“you love it,” you sing, completely unbothered.

he doesn’t answer.

but the tiniest corner of his mouth tugs up.

masterlist

#jisu writes!#bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo katsuki #katsuki fluff #katsuki x reader #mha fluff #mha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki drabble #bakugo drabble #bakugou drabble

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jihyoruri · 1 month ago

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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LUXURIOUS aeri uchinaga x reader

౨ৎ warnings: popular mean girl x loser athlete, swearing, yn plays soccer(football or wtv I don’t care honestly) and aeri is super rich, drinking, angst, fluff

aeri liked to think of herself as a simple girl she liked attention, shopping, money, and her friends. sometimes her friends. and the only thing she truly despised was-

sports. an unfortunately male dominated activity in the professional world and in schools, but interestingly, not at this school. well, only for one sport.

soccer.

the girls’ soccer team was the most funded, medal winning team in the school. they were popular, big on social media, and the school's main money makers. they were also total machines.

kinda.

"this is the team the school is known for?" aeri asked, filing her nails with a bored expression. "I’m unfortunately not impressed. these editors sure know how to hype them up it has to be the sexy music in the background."

"they're literally stretching." jimin looked at her, squinting. "they haven't even done anything yet. plus, this is practice."

"exactly!" aeri replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "so why are we here? most classes are finished, we should be shopping or something."

"we're here to watch minjeong practice, duh," yizhuo said.

"exactly. we're here to support our friend," jimin added, looking at aeri, who scrunched up her face.

"minjeong is barely my friend," she said, shaking her head while analyzing her nails. "she doesn’t fit our aesthetic. why would you guys adopt a soccer player? is this, like, a charity thing? are we getting filmed? if so, cut everything I just said and get my good side."

"look! they’re taking out the ball now."

aeri didn’t even glance up at yizhuo’s words, too engrossed in her phone. ugh, she couldn’t believe they had dragged her out here just to sit on the bleachers and watch a bunch of brainless jocks kick a ball around.

time passed, and aeri tuned out most of what was happening, busy plotting her escape. maybe she could say her mom needed her for an emergency modeling gig. or that her dad had a last-minute business meeting and required her presence. two things that would never happen, but jimin would probably see right through her anyway.

she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the gasps and shouts around her.

until something hard slammed into her face.

her head snapped back, and her phone tumbled from her hands.

a soccer ball. she had just been hit in the face with a soccer ball.

"oh shit!"

"good one, yn!"

“shut up yunjin!”

aeri shrieked, clutching her forehead as laughters and are you okays erupted from the field.

"oh my gosh, aeri."

jimin placed a hand on aeri’s shoulder, only for her to be brushed off. "are you okay? that looked like it hurt."

it did.

but aeri wasn’t about to admit that. instead, she inhaled sharply, her voice dropping low. "who the hell did that?"

jimin pointed toward the field. right at her.

standing between yunjin and ryujin, nervously biting the nail of her thumb, was the culprit.

they locked eyes. one gaze wide and doe, the other sharp and burning with rage.

guess which was which.

"hey, are we allowed to keep this since it hit aeri in the face?"

both girls turned to look at yizhuo, who was holding the soccer ball like it was some kind of prize.

aeri barely spared it a glance before snatching it out of yizhuo’s hands. then, without hesitation, she stormed onto the field.

"you’re fucked, y/l/n."

"here comes trouble."

"can you guys shush?"

yn barely had time to process the situation before aeri was right in front of her, glaring up at her with fire in her eyes.

without a second thought, aeri hurled the soccer ball straight at her.

unfortunately, yn caught it. effortlessly. with both hands.

yn blinked, tilting her head slightly, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips.

"i’m so sorry. you see, I have this condition where I just kick the ball really hard. it’s called strong leg disorder—"

"that’s not a thing."

"can you shut up? I’m trying to save my own life here." yn shot a glare at ryujin before turning back to aeri. "there’s no cure. I really wish there was. I would never intentionally mess up your pretty face—not that you aren’t still pretty now, after what just… uh… happened. but, you know…"

her voice trailed off as aeri’s glare darkened. yn winced, mentally kicking herself.

"do you think i’m an idiot?" aeri stepped closer, eyes locked onto yn, who instinctively leaned back only for her teammates to shove her forward, straight into the lion’s den.

"I really want to say no," yn admitted, hands raised slightly, "but I’m scared it’s a trap."

then, as if she wasn’t a whole athlete who could easily overpower aeri, she squeezed her eyes shut like she was bracing for impact.

"you’re lucky I don’t call my dad and get you kicked off the team."

instead of looking scared, yn only furrowed her brows. "he can do that? i thought he owned a car company."

"woah, woah, woah."

chaewon, the team’s captain, stepped in, hands raised in a peacekeeping gesture. "let’s not get too hasty. she’s one of our best players we can’t lose her."

"that thing?" aeri pointed at yn, who mouthed thing? in offense, glancing at yunjin, who was barely holding in her laughter. "is one of your best players? she hit me in the face."

"and I totally get why you’d be mad," chaewon said, cutting off yn when she tried to interject. "she’s an idiot."

yn scoffed. rude.

"but," chaewon continued, "she will make it up to you. i promise. in fact, you can choose how."

"wha—"

"i’m trying to save you here. shut up."

aeri’s expression shifted, mischief glinting in her eyes. yn turned to her team with sheer horror in hers.

"i can choose?" aeri repeated, her voice dangerously sweet.

"…okay."

then, she turned back to yn, who swallowed.

"you," aeri said, watching as yn stiffened.

"yes?"

"you’ll know by tomorrow."

and just like that, she spun on her heel, strutting off the field without another word. her friends scrambled to grab their things and follow because she was their ride, and she was not about to wait for them.

yn exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face.

"you’re so fucked." yunjin whistled.

"can you guys not state the obvious right now?"

it was nighttime, and aeri still hadn’t figured out what she wanted yn to do. everything she thought of felt too cliché. with a sigh, she opened the app she claimed to hate and typed in yn’s full name.

to be honest, she hadn’t known who the girl was until today. sure, she knew of the soccer team who didn’t? they were impossible to ignore in the dining hall, always causing some sort of disaster. and the edits, god, the edits. do you know how many times she had to click not interested?

but now that she thought about it… she’d never seen any of yn. maybe she wasn’t a fan favorite.

or so she thought.

aeri’s eyes widened as she scrolled. video after video edit after edit all of yn. the captions were unhinged , the comments even worse. but before she could even process it, she found herself immersed.

yn wasn’t bad looking.

while she was scrolling, a notification popped up yizhuo had sent her a live. aeri clicked on it, only to realize it was huh yunjin’s.

"I feel like if I wasn’t a soccer player, I’d definitely be a basketball player." yunjin spoke as she ripped open a bag of chips, turning to ryujin beside her.

"I feel like you wouldn’t even play sports if it wasn’t for soccer," ryujin shot back. "and yn? she’d definitely play hockey."

"yeah, after me, yn’s probably the second most likely to get into fights on the field."

aeri laughed. that loser? fighting?

the mention of yn’s name sent the chat into a frenzy.

user1: where did she go?? 😭 user2: ugh bae needs to come back user3: yn playing hockey… im shaking user4: she needs to come back rn

come back?

"fuck, I poked my eye."

yunjin and ryujin turned just as yn walked back into the frame, squinting one eye while adjusting her beanie.

aeri’s gaze flickered to the screen. yn had her hoodie slung around her neck, exposing her toned stomach and sports bra. the chat went absolutely feral.

so yn was wanted, huh?

aeri leaned back against her pillows, lips curling into a smirk.

just like that, a light bulb flickered in her head.

yizhuo struggled to keep up with aeri’s determined strides as they made their way toward the field, where the girls' soccer team sat catching their breath. sweat dripped down their faces as they sipped from their water bottles, still recovering from the first half of their practice.

“wait, why are we here again?” yizhuo asked, slightly out of breath.

“shut up.”

aeri’s sharp eyes immediately landed on yn, who stood in front of ryujin and yunjin, laughing at something she had just said. whatever it was, it clearly struck a nerve ryujin’s jaw dropped in offense before she squeezed her gatorade bottle, spraying water directly into yn’s face.

yn let out a dramatic yell, stumbling back as the rest of the team burst into laughter even chaewon.

but the moment aeri called out, “yn!”, the laughter died instantly.

yn wiped at her face with her sleeve, still grinning until she turned around and saw who was calling her. her smile vanished.

aeri wasted no time, marching right up to her and jabbing a finger against yn’s chest. “you’re gonna be my personal girl toy." yn blinked. "huh?"

she glanced over her shoulder at her teammates, but before she could even process what was happening, aeri grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her back around.

"eyes over here." aeri tilted her head, voice smooth, almost teasing. "you’re gonna follow me everywhere i go and do whatever i say. got that?"

yn’s brain short circuited. "uh… is that even legal?" her face burned at the proximity. "I just—sorry—uh—"

"is that excuses I’m hearing?" aeri cut in, unimpressed.

"no? I was just asking a question-”

"then I have nothing else to say." aeri shrugged, turning on her heel like that was the end of the conversation.

just as yn opened her mouth to protest, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

"y/l/n! who the hell are you talking to?"

yn exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping. "sorry, coach!" she shot aeri a pleading look. "you need to leave, like, now. he’s already on my ass."

aeri studied her for a moment before smirking.

"meet me after your practice."

and with that, she spun around and walked off, yizhuo trailing behind her.

yn let out a breath, rolling her shoulders as she stepped out of the changing room, still toweling off her damp hair. her baggy sweatpants hung low on her hips, barely clinging on, and her oversized team hoodie was slung over her shoulders, revealing the tank top underneath. she adjusted her hoodie absentmindedly, already dreading whatever ridiculous task aeri had planned for her.

but she hadn’t expected to see aeri leaning against the wall right outside the girls' changing room, arms crossed, looking like she had been waiting forever.

"you just stand outside girls’ locker rooms now?" yn asked, rubbing the towel over her head.

"I was losing patience," aeri said simply, pushing off the wall. "you take longer than I thought. what were you doing, a whole spa treatment in there?"

"some of us actually shower after sweating for two hours," yn replied.

“so, what? I just follow you around and get you stuff now?"

"yeah," aeri confirmed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "you follow me, you do what I say, and you get me whatever I need. and in return, you get to be seen with me."

yn blinked. "...what?"

"people are always jealous of me," aeri continued, casually inspecting her nails like this was just another tuesday for her.

“but I just recently found out how valuable you are. I mean, did you know people on the internet practically worship you?"

yn's eyes widened slightly. "what—"

"seriously, it’s insane." aeri shook her head, like she was still processing the horror of it all. "you’re, like, a phenomenon. and if I have you following me around like a puppy, it’ll make people even more jealous of me."

yn stared at her. "...that’s your whole plan?"

"yes."

"that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard."

aeri shrugged. "stupid, but effective."

yn exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "you know what? alright. I’ll see you around."

"great!" aeri clapped her hands together. "be ready for tomorrow."

"what happens tomorrow?"

"I’m taking you shopping."

yn groaned.

the next day, yn found herself standing in the middle of an expensive boutique, arms full of shopping bags that weren’t even hers.

"I feel like I should be getting paid for this," yn muttered, shifting the bags to one hand so she could pull her hoodie sleeves up.

"you’re getting something better," aeri said, examining a designer bag.

"which is?"

"me."

"wow," yn deadpanned. "so generous."

"I know, right?"

as yn adjusted the bags in her arms, she caught their reflection in a nearby mirror. she looked ridiculous, carrying all her stuff, while aeri strutted around like a runway model.

"you know," aeri mused, looking yn up and down, "you actually look really good like this."

yn raised a brow. "like what?"

"doing what I want."

yn nearly dropped the bags. "what—"

"I mean, look at you," aeri continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "following me around, holding my bags, waiting outside my class for me. it’s a good look on you."

"yeah, whatever," yn muttered, looking away, ears burning.

aeri grinned. "so cute."

aeri wasn’t sure when it started happening, but she was noticing yn way too much.

at practice, yn would be running drills, sweaty and focused, and aeri would catch herself staring.

when yn would wait outside her class, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, aeri would find herself smiling before she even realized it.

and when yn showed up at her house for the first time, dropping onto aeri’s bed and ranting about soccer practice, aeri found herself just… watching her.

yn was so expressive when she talked, hands moving, eyes lighting up when she got passionate about something. and god, she was attractive. even in her stupid soccer gear, hair messy, voice slightly raspy from yelling on the field.

"are you even listening?" yn asked, turning her head to look at aeri.

aeri blinked. "huh?"

yn sighed, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. "I said, practice sucked."

aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at her lips.

"here." she reached into her bag and tossed something at yn.

yn caught it, frowning. "what’s this?"

"a gift."

yn turned the small box over in her hands, raising a brow. "you’re giving me stuff now?"

"you work hard," aeri said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal.

yn opened the box, eyes widening at the necklace inside.

"aeri, this is—"

"don’t make a big deal out of it," aeri cut in quickly. "just take it."

yn hesitated. "I can’t accept this—"

"well, you’re gonna have to," aeri said,

crossing her arms. "I’m not taking no for an answer."

yn looked at her for a long moment before sighing and slipping the necklace on. "fine. but this doesn’t mean you own me."

aeri smirked. "sure."

when the big game finally came, aeri dragged jimin and yizhuo to the front row.

she expected to be bored.

but then she saw yn in her element, completely locked in, eyes sharp,

moving like she was built for this.

and then she saw the coach yelling at her.

"jesus, what’s his problem?" aeri muttered.

"he’s just hard on her," jimin said, watching the game.

"yeah, well, he needs to chill."

then, it happened.

yn, her awkward, dorky, occasionally charming personal servant, got into a fight.

aeri watched, wide eyed, as yn shoved an opposing player back, jaw tight, voice sharp as she exchanged heated words.

"oh my god," aeri breathed.

"she’s hot, right?" yizhuo whispered.

"shut up," aeri snapped, crossing her arms.

yn got benched for a while, but when she was finally thrown back in, after having another yelling match with the coach she scored the winning goal.

before she knew it, aeri was heading straight for the locker room.

when she found yn, the girl was pulling a hoodie over her head, damp hair falling messily around her face.

"congrats," aeri said, leaning against the doorframe.

"thanks," yn replied, voice tired.

aeri frowned. "you don’t sound too happy."

yn exhaled. "stuff with coach got intense."

aeri raised a brow. "why do you let him get in your head?"

yn rolled her eyes. "cause he’s my dad."

aeri blinked. "oh."

"yeah."

"…if it makes you feel better, at least you and your dad have the same interests. my dad probably wouldn’t care if i ran off to join the circus."

yn huffed a laugh. "that… actually makes me more sad."

aeri grinned. "oops."

yn shook her head, but she was smiling.

"you’re going to the party, right?" aeri asked.

"yeah," yn said. "I’ll see you there."

aeri smirked. "good."

and that was the beginning of the night that would change everything.

aeri knew she had a problem when she saw a cheerleader lean closer to yn, and her first reaction was to throw back another drink.

“okay, slow down.” yizhuo raised an eyebrow as aeri downed her fourth drink in the span of ten minutes.

aeri ignored her, eyes locked on the corner of the party where yn sat, looking stupidly awkward while the cheerleader giggled and played with her hair.

yn was slouched forward, hands clasped together like she was in a job interview, clearly uncomfortable.

but aeri didn’t see that. no, she saw yn sitting with some girl, some random girl not even thinkingabout texting her to see if she was here.

the audacity.

“aeri?” yizhuo waved a hand in front of her face. “you’re being weird. why are you-oh my god, are you jealous?”

“me? jealous?” aeri scoffed, setting down her empty cup. “please, I’m just—”

she lost her train of thought as she watched the cheerleader lean in even closer, whispering something into yn’s ear. that was it. that was her last straw.

she spun on her heel and made a beeline toward them, mean girl switch fully activated.

yn noticed her first. “aeri?” she blinked, eyes widening.

aeri crossed her arms. “so, you couldn’t text me to see if I was here?”

yn furrowed her brows. “what?”

the cheerleader glanced between them, clearly sensing something was up. aeri ignored her and stepped closer to yn, lips curling into a smirk. “moving on to cheerleaders now? cute. I still own you, by the way.”

yn’s entire face flashed with hurt. “are we still doing this?” her voice was quiet. “I thought we were done with that. I thought we were—” she swallowed. “I thought we were connecting.”

aeri’s stomach twisted. she hated the way yn was looking at her right now, like she was disappointed.

so, naturally, she did what she did best, shoved that feeling way down and doubled down.

she let out a sharp laugh. “connecting? why would i connect with a dumb jock who hit me in the face with a soccer ball?”

yn flinched. actually flinched. and suddenly, aeri hated herself.

but instead of fixing it, she grabbed another drink and walked away.

an hour later, she was completely shit-faced.

she was swaying, a half-empty cup in her hand, reaching for another when someone grabbed her wrist.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

aeri groaned, rolling her head back to see who was bothering her now. yn. of course it was yn.

“leave me alone,” she slurred, trying to tug her arm free.

“nope, you’re done.” yn pried the cup from her fingers and set it down.

aeri whined, pushing at yn’s chest. “you’re so annoying.” yn didn’t budge. “yeah, yeah.”

aeri pouted and stumbled, and before she knew it, she was being lifted off the ground.

“what the hell?” she yelped, gripping onto yn’s shoulders as she was thrown over her back. “I forgot you’re an athlete.”

yn adjusted her easily, carrying her like she weighed nothing. “and you’re so lanky how the hell are you doing this.”

aeri kicked her feet uselessly. “put me down, loser.”

“not a chance.”

they passed by yunjin and ryujin, who both raised their eyebrows.

yn sighed. “I’m taking her home.”

yunjin snorted. “good luck with that.”

in the car, aeri was a mess.

she was slumped in the passenger seat, mumbling nonsense, until she suddenly turned her head and stared at yn with glassy eyes.

“I hate that you’re so attractive,” she blurted out. “and dorky. and strong. and cute. and I just wanna kiss you in front of everyone.”

yn’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “you’re drunk, aeri.”

“so?” aeri pouted.

yn sighed. “just go to sleep.”

when aeri woke up in jimin’s apartment, she immediately knew two things.

one, her head was killing her.

two, she was definitely not at home.

“what the hell…” she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her temples.

“morning, sunshine.”

aeri blinked blearily, turning toward the voice. jimin was sitting at her kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee, watching her with a smirk.

“why am I here?” aeri croaked.

jimin took another sip before answering. “yn dropped you off here last night.”

aeri froze. “yn?”

“yeah.” jimin set her cup down. “said you were too drunk to go home alone. figured I’d take the babysitting shift.”

aeri groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

“kill me.”

“not before you tell me why you were getting wasted in the first place.”

aeri shut her eyes. “no reason.”

jimin snorted. “yeah, sure. you’re you the most calculated, high maintenance, self absorbed person I know. you don’t do anything without a reason.”

aeri peeked one eye open. “was that an insult or a compliment?”

“depends. are you gonna tell me why you were drinking like a maniac last night?”

aeri hesitated.

jimin crossed her arms. “if you don’t spill, I’m kicking you out.”

aeri sighed dramatically, sitting up again.

“fine. but you cannot laugh.”

jimin smirked. “oh, I’m absolutely laughing.”

aeri ignored her and took a deep breath. “I saw yn with some cheerleader.”

jimin raised an eyebrow. “okay… and?”

“and she was leaning in and yn was just sitting there—” aeri huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t know, I just snapped.”

jimin tilted her head. “so, you got jealous?”

aeri opened her mouth, then closed it. “no.”

jimin gave her a look.

“fine.” aeri threw her hands up. “yes.I got jealous. ridiculously jealous. stupidly jealous.”

jimin grinned. “I knew it.”

aeri groaned, flopping back onto the couch again. “I’m such an idiot. yn probably hates me now.”

jimin leaned her elbows on the counter. “what exactly did you do?”

aeri stared at the ceiling. “I walked up to them, turned on my mean girl mode, and basically told her she still belongs to me, because of the thing and like completely destroyed all the development we had.”

jimin choked on her coffee. “you what?”

“I know.” aeri covered her face. “it was bad. and then—” she cringed. “yn said she thought we were connecting and I laughed in her face.”

jimin slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “aeri.”

“I know.” aeri groaned. “I panicked.”

jimin shook her head. “oh my god, you like her.”

aeri scowled. “duh.”

“no, like, really like her.” jimin smirked. “you’re obsessed.”

aeri groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I am.”

“this is amazing.” jimin laughed.

“it’s not.” aeri pouted. “I don’t know what to do. yn probably thinks I’m an evil, heartless—”

“dumbass?” jimin offered.

aeri glared. “not what I was gonna say.”

jimin rolled her eyes. “okay, listen. I know for a fact yn doesn’t hate you.”

aeri looked skeptical. “how?”

jimin smirked. “because she dropped you off here. if she hated you, she wouldn’t have made sure you were safe.”

aeri bit her lip. “but—”

“no buts.” jimin pointed at her. “you’re going to fix this.”

“how?”

jimin grinned. “she has morning practice. I’ll drive you.”

aeri hesitated.

jimin rolled her eyes. “do not make me throw you in the car.”

twenty minutes later, aeri was storming onto the field just like first them when yn hit her right in the face.

yn was standing near the goal, foot resting on a ball, when she looked up and saw aeri marching straight toward her.

“aeri—?”

before she could finish, aeri grabbed her face and kissed her.

yn froze, completely shocked, but after a second, she melted into it, her hands gripping aeri’s waist and pulling her closer.

when they finally pulled away, aeri was breathless. “please don’t hate me, I’m sorry.” her voice was quiet now. “I’m, like, in love with you, and iI don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t say anything back to me, because I want you so bad—”

yn let out a nervous chuckle. “I can’t believe you just kissed me.” she smiled, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.”

aeri grinned, pressing another kiss to her lips

TWEEEET.

a sharp whistle cut through the air. they turned to see the entire team watching. and standing at the front, arms crossed, was coach.

yn’s dad.

“now that’s a way to meet the parents, yn get your little girlfriend off the field.”

the team howled with laughter. yn groaned, face turning a shade of red aeri had never seen before.

aeri whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before spinning on her heel and jogging back to jimin.

as soon as she reached her, they both squealed, gripping each other’s arms.

meanwhile, yn stood there, frozen, as her teammates slapped her back and teased the hell out of her.

#aespa #aespa x reader #aespa giselle #giselle x reader #aeri x reader #aeri uchinaga #aeri unchinaga x reader #girl group imagines

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distantdarlings · 2 months ago

Text

LIKE HE BELONGED THERE // m. riddle

RATING: R / 6K WORDS

Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this and this* After being friends for a while, Mattheo decides to kick your relationship up a notch at the upcoming Halloween party.

+ WARNINGS - Fem!Reader, unprotected PIV, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, soft dom!Mattheo, sub!reader, overstimulation, fingering (f!receiving), slight cum play, creampie, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, language, not fully proof-read (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

headache - asal

- - -

Your heels scraped the stone stairs as you bounded down them, excited to start the day.

Generally, you weren’t too happy about having to get up every morning and attend your classes, but today was a Friday. And not only was today a Friday, it was the last Friday before Halloween. And you were well acquainted with what that meant—the annual Hogwarts Halloween party was tonight.

It was easily one of your favorite nights of the school year. Between the costumes, the snuck-in Firewhisky, the snacks, and the dancing, you weren’t sure what the best part of it was. Either way, you always made sure you went all out.

You walked through the doors of the Great Hall, searching for your group of friends. They generally sat directly across from one of the large hearths placed throughout the room.

Above, Halloween decorations floated and dangled—creepy spiderwebs and jack-o-lanterns littered the magical skyline that cracked with faux lightning. Damn, you loved this school.

Excitement floated in your stomach.

You jogged over to your friends where they sat gathered closely around each other, munching on bits of breakfast and likely discussing their costumes for tonight.

All of their eyes came up to meet yours as you selected a seat next to Angelina Johnson and grabbed a muffin from the ornate bowl in the center of the table.

“Are you ready for tonight?” she asked, smiling widely.

“Am I? I’ve been fucking pumped all year!” you laughed. “I’m assuming you’ve all prepared your costumes for tonight?”

“If you can even call them costumes,” Ginny Weasley chuckled quietly.

“Oh, shut up!” Lavender Brown scoffed, shoving her shoulder. “Just because you’re as modest as a damn nun, doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be.”

“I don’t think your costume is simply immodest, Lavender,” Angelina joked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. You turned to look at the girl.

“Wait—what’s it look like? I haven’t seen it yet,” you cocked your head. Lavender tended to have a bit of a penchant for flashy Halloween costumes, but you couldn’t remember a time in years past when the other girls were this interested in what it was.

Lavender produced a cutout picture.

“It’s just a rabbit costume…,” she shrugged, scoffing as if it was inconceivable that she’d be made fun of for her outfit. An outfit that was…definitely immodest.

The photo seemed to come from a wizarding catalog for lingerie, where the model depicted had simple bunny makeup and a pair of fuzzy ears strapped to a headband atop her curly hair. She wore what looked like a fuzzy bra and panty set with a fluffy cotton tail. The woman danced seductively in the moving picture.

“Lav, I think this is lingerie,” you said.

Angelina and Ginny burst out laughing as Lavender cried out. She snatched the photo back away from you, folded it, and shoved it in her robe pocket. Pouting, she placed her hand on her fist and looked away.

“I’m sorry, but I think you may have outdone yourself this year,” you laughed, tears welling in your eyes.

“Oh, fuck off!” she growled. “What are you all going to wear?”

“I’m just wearing my Quidditch jersey,” Ginny shrugged.

“Ugh, boring! You did that last year.” Angelina rolled her eyes. Ginny didn’t seem to care. “Anyways, I’m going as a pirate. I’ve got like an eyepatch and stuff—ooh! I’ve also got a sword.”

Everyone nodded, agreeing that she may have the best costume this year—as she did every year.

“What about you?” Ginny nodded toward you, absentmindedly picking at the food left on her plate.

“I’m being a cat this year. I went the sort of ‘slutty’ route like Lavender.”

The girl mentioned groaned and set her head down on the table. You should stop teasing her but it was just too easy. Besides, she knew you loved her.

While the conversation and picking across nibbles of breakfast continued, you eventually heard a few sharp steps behind you on the rough stone floor.

Just as you were about to turn to catch a glimpse of who it may be, a warm hand tugged on your right earlobe. You gasped and turned to see who belonged to the fingers curled against your skin.

Mattheo turned and sat just beside you, back against the table and arm resting comfortably on the table in front of you. You faked an annoyed groan and rolled your eyes.

“Ugh, look who it is!” you sighed sarcastically.

Ginny and Angelina seemed to sneer and look away before continuing their conversation privately, while Lavender seemed to swoon just a bit over the dark boy next to you.

“I was wondering when I was going to run into you,” he spoke, smirking as he caught the reactions of your friends to him in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, yeah? You think about me that much?” you teased, turning your body more toward him.

“You could say that,” he snorted. “I was wondering what your plans were for this evening?”

“Well, I planned to head down to Hogsmeade to catch a Butterbeer after classes and grab a few more things for my costume. Want to come?”

“Will your friends be coming?” he asked, nodding his jaw toward the girls behind you.

“Yes, we will! We all will! So, it’ll be kind of crowded. You might want to sit this one out,” Angelina interrupted, nodding enthusiastically. You rolled your eyes at her, shoving an elbow back against her ribs.

“Right, I think I will,” he laughed. “Your friends aren’t exactly my choice of company.”

Angelina stuck her tongue out at the boy who rolled his eyes in response.

“We’ll see you tonight, alright?” Ginny said. You nodded as she and Angelina stood and headed out the door. Lavender slid farther down the bench and set her chin in her hands.

“I don’t mind if you come, Mattheo,” she said sweetly, ogling him like a prize.

Mattheo stood and leaned over the table a bit, looking over her. “I appreciate it, baby. But, I think I’ll skip.” He brushed a gentle finger against her chin before heading out the door.

Lavender sat there gobsmacked, watching you like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Mattheo was a natural flirt—you’d seen it a thousand times over. You weren’t shocked.

“I think he’s in love with me,” she gasped.

“Whatever,” you laughed, before getting up as well to head to your first period.

***

By the time your classes were over, you were practically bouncing out of your seat with energy. You couldn’t wait to stuff your face with all of the autumnal foods and dance until you felt sick.

You knew by the time the next morning hit, you’d be regretting your choices from the night before, just as you always did. But you never cared, because it was so damn fun.

Now, rushing to catch up with your friends who were already halfway down the cobbled path to Hogsmeade, you could feel the excitement bubbling up through your throat.

“Guys! You ready?” you shouted, waving above your head.

“Hell yeah!” Angelina stopped and hollered back.

Ginny whooped loudly and Lavender jumped into the air. You hadn’t seen them this pumped since last year when Gryffindor won the House Cup.

You caught up with them by slamming against Angelina with the force of the downhill stairs, giggling wildly.

The four of you made your way down the rest of the path, fingertips scraping along flaming lilies that grew along the stone, and skirts hovering gently in the soft breeze.

The feeling of autumn was finally beginning to set in around the campus—smokey air, white skies, crunchy leaves fluttering about. It was one of your favorite times of year—the castle always stood out like a painting. You glanced back at it, appreciating its beauty against the fading skyline.

“It’s getting darker sooner,” Lavender noted, stopping just before the door to the Three Broomsticks. Ginny pranced forward and grabbed ahold of the large metal handle, pulling the heavy oak open steadily. She held it as everyone headed in, shivering slightly at the change in temperature.

“Practice will likely be moved up soon, just because of the light,” Angelina said, more to Ginny than you or Lavender. You hadn’t picked up a broom since Flying class and Lavender wouldn’t be caught in the athletic changing rooms.

The two of them were both hell of a player, each with their own set of skills and unique style. Angelina was the captain and you imagined Ginny was next in her footsteps.

You took a table near the back and ordered two rounds of Butterbeer until the grandfather clock in the corner chimed five times.

At that point, you dropped a few coins on the table and followed the other girls out the door.

You stopped on the way back to the castle at a little convenience store stuck to the side of a little wand repair shop. The woman who worked the counter there—not much older than you were—always looked like she absolutely hated her life, so you attempted to crack a few jokes any time you entered the store. Every once and a while, she’d break a slight smile and today was one of those days. To you, that was proof that tonight was going to be an amazing party.

You grabbed a few bits of makeup and Lavender grabbed many bits of makeup and a few things for her hair, while Ginny and Angelina selected “snacks” to pregame the party with. If you were any dumber, you wouldn’t have known that the chips and gummies they selected were infused with a few special herbs designed to make the light a little less harsh. You rolled your eyes at them.

After you’d checked out and made it back to the castle, Ginny and Angelina had already dug into their special treats while you and Lavender had settled onto her bed and began dressing up.

You had managed a cute makeup look with a winged eyeliner, drawn-on whiskers and cat nose, and dark lipstick. All together, you hadn’t done too badly even with minimal help from Lavender.

Of course, when you’d glanced over at her, she’d almost completely finished her look—an extremely detailed, but sexy rendition of a bunny—by the time you’d only finished the eyeliner. She was a pro.

After that, she’d helped you pull your hair into a curled updo and fasten the little cat ears to the top of your head.

You’d pulled a long-sleeved black v-neck on and a skimpy black skirt you’d borrowed from a Slytherin friend. All things considered, you thought you looked pretty damn good.

“Wow, you look hot!” Angelina said. Her eyes had already started to lid over. Ginny smiled lazily, tossing her hand in the air and throwing a thumbs-up at you.

“Thanks!” you giggled. Though it was a simple outfit, you felt sexy. There was proof that pulling a shirt collar down over your breasts and wearing a short skirt with fishnets underneath could put you on top of the world. At least, for you.

Lavender walked around the corner and struck a pose. She looked…exactly like the model did.

“Lav, you look amazing, but you’ll be lucky if a professor doesn’t send you back to the dorm!” you laughed. Ginny and Angelina snorted at your words, guffawing obnoxiously.

“Well, then I guess we’ll see if I get lucky,” she said, smirking. “Or we’ll see if I get lucky another way.”

“Oh, brother,” Ginny groaned, rubbing her reddened eyes.

In the meantime, she had managed to slip her Quidditch jersey and a pair of jeans on. She looked really well for such a simple costume. Somehow, despite her wobbly legs, Angelina had managed to wrap a cushioned skirt around her waist—deep red in color and fastened with a thick brown belt that held a fake sword—and pull a billowy white shirt over her head. She slipped a leather corset around her torso, put an eyepatch on, and tied a striped bandana around her braided hair.

“Angie, your tits look amazing!” Ginny laughed. Murmurs of agreement passed around the room at the beautiful woman who bowed a few times.

“Well, are we heading down or not?” you smiled, throwing an arm around Lavender’s glittered shoulder. The other two girls nodded and followed you out of the dormitory.

The Halloween party was being held in the Slytherin common room this year. The location of the event tended to shift around the castle, but it had been held there a couple of years ago also. And, if you remember correctly, it had been your favorite venue so far.

You could remember the lights and the music and the reflection of the Black Lake outside the windows. That party was the one you’d really talked to Mattheo for the first time.

You’d chatted over pumpkin juice and bumped shoulders along the dance floor, connecting in ways you never thought a Slytherin and Gryffindor could. He’d made you smile and laugh so hard, the snacks settled in your hands had been abandoned so you could walk around the lake with him.

It was easily one of your favorite memories of the school. Oftentimes, it tended to float back into your head whilst you were sad or daydreaming about swimming in the lake.

As you slipped into the dungeon entrance, you were immediately taken aback by the aura of hundreds of treats, flashing lights, and loud music. Beside you, Lavender giggled giddily and shook your arm. Ginny and Angelina chatted back and forth, their voices slowly being more and more drowned out by the music.

To say that you’d been waiting for this party since last year’s was an understatement. Every year, the students who threw this together outdid themselves even further than they had the year before. And it had gotten so big that the professors had just stopped trying to shut it down and, instead, stationed a few of their own about the halls, just to ensure nothing particularly criminal was happening.

On your way to the party, you’d already glimpsed Hagrid’s towering body attempting to hide behind one of the gigantic stone torches lining the walls.

You’d thrown a wave at him and giggled as he pretended not to see you, as he was meant to be spying rather than clearly supervising.

Before you even had a chance to grab a drink from one of the tables set up, Mattheo Riddle swooped in beside you and threw an arm around you.

“My, mama, you are looking ravishing tonight,” he smirked, eyeing you up and down like a treat.

You giggled in response and placed a playful slap on his arm. “Whatever. What are you supposed to be?”

“I’m a vampire, can’t you tell?” he asked, holding his arms up to display his outfit.

All he wore was a black dress shirt, only partially buttoned, with matching slacks, and a bit of fake blood scattered across his lips. To be honest, you couldn’t really tell.

“I mean…it’s definitely a Halloween costume. I’m just not sure it screams ‘vampire,’” you responded. “It needs some fangs or a cape or something.”

“My natural ones not enough?” he teased, pressing a tongue against his sharp canines. You rolled your eyes, though a bit of an inappropriate thought rolled through your head at the small gesture. You shook it off, ashamed a thought like that would even pop up for someone like one of your best friends.

They’d happened before, but you weren’t one to listen to or act on intrusive thoughts.

You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him. “Well, what do you think of mine? I’m a cat!”

“I figured, baby,” he said. He glanced down your body once more, not even slightly attempting to conceal his gaze.

Without taking his eyes from you, he reached behind him and selected a cup waiting on the table. He leaned in to hand it to you, pressing his lips near your ear. He placed the drink in your fingers.

His voice was rough against the backdrop of the pounding music. “Wanna dance?”

“You think you can handle all this?” you giggled.

“What, you think I don’t know my way around a little pussy?” he asked, glaring down at you. Your eyes widened as your breath caught in your throat.

“Mattheo, you—” you gasped, nearly sending your cup toppling to the floor.

“I’m picking on you,” he laughed. He slid his hand around your waist and pulled you tightly against his body. The thin material of your skirt and tights was hardly enough to ward off the feeling of his hips against you. A shock of pleasure radiated through your body, eliciting chills down your arms.

Confidently, he gripped the red solo cup by the rim and quickly swallowed the contents in one go. The colored lights flickering overhead illuminated the swell of his throat as it pulsed with each swallow.

You weren’t sure why but that kept the fire in your stomach kindled.

Once done, he crumpled the cup in his hand and tossed it back toward the table. All the while, his hand never left your waist.

“Let’s dance, baby,” he whispered into your ear, liquid confidence already firing up in his mouth.

You repeated his actions, lifting your cup to your lips, swallowing as quickly as you could, and feeling the sudden buzz within your head. It was a small one, but definitely enough to push a little bit of urgency into your actions.

You grabbed onto his hand and tugged him deeper into the dance floor. As you moved past each swaying, grinding figure on the floor, you could feel your audacity building with each step.

With every press of your hand into his, you could feel sparks glowing from within your stomach. The feeling of his skin on yours—no matter how minute—had an effect on you. It always had.

You stopped once in the center and turned towards Mattheo. With a gentle smirk on your face, you pulled your hands above your head and began to sway slowly.

Your hips curved downwards and then back up. The lights flickered over your body, putting every seductive detail on display for the ravenous boy before you. You hoped that this would be enough to get the attention you’d been desperate for months.

The thoughts of lust that had entwined themselves around your brain had finally tightened themselves to their fullest. All you could think was Mattheo. All you could see was Mattheo. All you could hear, feel… Mattheo, Mattheo, Mattheo…

At the sight of your swaying body before him, Mattheo had no control over his desire. He’d held himself back for years, not wanting to scare you off. Wanting to get closer to you and treat you right. Wanting to do whatever he needed to do to get a taste of you.

His hand snaked back around your waist. He turned you into him, pressing your back against his chest. He moved his hips along you, grinding lazily against your ass.

Shock and pleasure coiled against the wall of your stomach, while the strong alcohol you’d down only moments ago began to dim the lights a bit.

If there was one thing Ravenclaw was good for, it was whipping up the strongest Firewhisky you’d ever tasted. One shot usually did you in.

His lips caressed over your ear, whispering sweet nothings. Over the music, it was hard to make out everything he said, but wisps of your hips, of your ass, of your legs echoed in your mind.

Chills flowed down the length of your exposed arms as he traced a finger down them. His hand interlocked with yours overtop the back, palm pressed against your knuckles.

He pulled your hand upwards and hooked it around the back of his neck. Instinctually, your fingers curled in the dark strands of hair down the back of his neck.

Your fingernails scraped against his scalp. He echoed your actions with a quiet groan, punctuating them with a chaste kiss against the connection of your jaw and neck. You sighed, clutching your fingers even tighter.

Your ass rolled against his front, urging a hardened point up from between his legs. You smirked at the effect you were having on him.

Suddenly, he spun you around, seemingly angry that you were affecting him so strongly. He pulled your chest into his and locked his hands onto your ass. The tips of his fingers hooked under the line of your fishnets right where your skimpy shorts ended. His strong hands pulled you as close to him as you would go, your hands tucked into between the two of you.

You gasped as your breasts pressed tightly against him, pushing your cleavage up to be even more exposed.

“Told ya I knew my way around some pussy,” he growled in your ear. You shuddered against him.

You forced forward some more confidence and leaned against his cheek. “I don’t know if I believe you. As far as I can tell, you haven’t handled anything. Your hands have stayed front and center.”

“Yeah? You want my hands, mama?” The tips of his fingers trailed down your sides, drawing every bit of pent-up energy to the forefront. As he reached your waist, his fingers found your wrists and eased them above your head.

For a split second, he caught both of your wrists wrapped into his singular hand. With his free hand, he obtained a firm grip on your ass and moved his hips against yours to the beat of the music. You giggled, embarrassed at the blunt boy.

He released your arms and they landed around his neck. He smiled cockily, flashing sharpened fangs. You wondered what they’d feel like crushing against your neck.

A laugh bubbled up your throat and you leaned back against Mattheo’s supportive arms to release it.

Your neck was exposed to the open air, enlightening sparks of glitter, and that was the last straw for Mattheo. At the sight of your body splayed out before him, arched against his abdomen, and relying fully on his strength, he couldn’t control himself any longer.

Ignoring all pre-conceived boundaries in your relationship with him, he leaned forward against you and pressed hot lips against your collarbone.

You gasped aloud at the sensation, not expecting to feel his mouth on you. Whispers of freshly-shaven stubble caressed your flesh. His breath plumed against your neck as he mouthed kisses against you.

He slowly worked his way upward until he reached the base of your neck, then abandoned his lips in favor of his tongue, which he traced delicately up the line of your throat.

Your head tilted forward to match the speed with which he licked against your skin.

Once he reached your chin, you were back to making full eye contact. You hoped that you weren’t completely flushed and wide-eyed, but you knew that couldn’t be true. Even through your makeup, you were sure that shock and embarrassment were shining bright.

His eyes were lidded, a small smirk curving his lips. He looked fucking breathtaking.

You refused to let him take you by such surprise, though and opted to return the sexually-charged favor.

Interlinking your fingers behind his neck, you pulled his lips to yours.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t as shocked as you’d been hoping and melded his lips against yours without skipping a beat. Like he’d been waiting for it—anticipating the moment you’d finally drop all of your pride and force your tongue into his mouth.

His hands wrapped around you, settling one on your hip, one splayed against your back. Now that he had your lips right where he wanted them, there was no way he’d let you pull away. He’d been waiting for this for months.

Your hands wrapped around the throat of his collar and, without pulling your mouth from his, began to walk backward. He followed willingly, hands refusing to pull from you. He knew what you wanted—he knew you'd wanted it just as long as he had.

Mutual desire hadn't been an issue between the two of you up until about five minutes ago, but that didn't mean neither of you felt it. You'd both felt the longing for the other extensively.

But now instead of desperately fucking your hands in your respective dormitories, you were—hopefully—going to fuck each other's hands in… You pulled away from Mattheo and glanced behind you, nodding your head suggestively toward the staircase leading up to his dormitory…say, ten minutes?

Mattheo snickered at your expression and allowed you to lead him up the stairs. Your hand was entangled in his like it had never belonged anywhere but there.

Once the two of you were past the landing and down the hallway, you clutched his hand tighter for a brief second, to which he responded by echoing the motion.

It was a silent question of which dorm was his. You'd been in his room once before, but only for studying, and it had been a while. You couldn't remember which identical door belonged to him.

He walked ahead, taking the lead, but never dropping your hand.

A few more steps later he was stopping in front of a door, sticking the brass key into the lock, and tugging you in. Once the door was closed, you were only allowed a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of the room, before Mattheo shoved you backward onto the bed nearest the door.

The pressure of your back hitting the mattress released a squeal from your lips, but that was quickly muted by Mattheo’s lips which found yours again. In the dark of the room, it was hard to tell where exactly he was, but you could clearly feel the bed beneath you sinking in as he crawled over you.

His knee came to rest between your legs, forcing them apart, and nudging against your core. You moaned lightly against his mouth but he swallowed the small sound with each breath he took.

His tongue traced the inside of your mouth lovingly, urging your jaw open further, forcing you to let him in.

Your fingers raised to his chest and began working the few buttons that were fastened apart, revealing his smooth, browned chest. Once the shirt was pulled apart, you pushed the fabric down his shoulders and whined at the feeling of his hot skin beneath your fingers.

He finally pulled his lips from yours and began working his way down your jawline and neck. You sighed in pleasure, fingers curling into his dark hair. Your nails lightly scratched against his scalp as they did so, eliciting a whispered groan from him.

The sound struck a flame in your core. You'd always wondered if he'd be vocal in bed.

Once he reached the divide of your cleavage, he wasted no time grasping the neckline of your busty shirt and pulling down.

Your breasts are pulled free, and exposed to the open air. You were suddenly so grateful to your past self for opting to skip the bra tonight.

He groaned at the sight of you and immediately latched his lips to your right nipple. You gasped aloud at the sensation, chest arching toward his face.

His hands, now free from anything else, got to work pushing your skirt up toward your hips. Beneath, you'd only wore a pair of black panties and the fishnets you'd bought, and it seemed that Mattheo was a very big fan.

Once he'd pulled away from your chest and noticed your legs, he immediately dropped down and began mouthing at your core through your bottoms. You jumped at the sudden stimulation, your fingers clutching at his hair.

“Fuck, Mattheo!” you cried. His mouth was ceaseless, devouring you through your panties, wetting the material completely through. The way your essence intertwined with his saliva had you gasping.

And before you could take another breath, he slipped his finger beneath your bottoms and pulled them to the side. His tongue resumed its previous ministrations, only this time his mouth was pressed right against your folds.

You groaned aloud, your thighs clenching together around his head.

With a deep breath, you snuck a peek down at his face. His eyes were completely closed—peacefully like he was right where he belonged. His jaw worked professionally, devouring you like you were a slice of fruit, and your juices painted his chin as such.

Without warning, he slipped a long finger into you, pressing directly against your sweet spot. At that point, you were done for. The final move pushed you over the edge.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—!” You came ferociously, the waves of pleasure flowing through your body. Your hips snapped involuntarily against his mouth but he never stopped fucking you.

He worked you through the height of your orgasm, allowing you to come down from it gently and gradually.

When all of your muscles finally relaxed and a blissful smile began to spread across your face, you thought he was going to lie down beside you. But the recovery time didn’t last long as he flipped you on your stomach, the skirt still pushed up over your hips.

“Matty, baby,” you gasped, still out of breath from your last climax. “Wait.”

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispered frantically. Behind you, you could hear his belt clinking and the fabric of his pants rustling as he pulled them apart. “But I need to feel you around me.”

You gasped against the duvet—emerald and soft—realizing that you had only a few moments before Mattheo Riddle was going to be fucking you into his mattress. Your fingers gripped the sheets in anticipation.

His fingers grabbed hold of your hips, strong and sturdy, keeping you in place. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to.

He massaged your skin, watching lovingly as your body moved beneath his stimulation. He’d been imagining what you looked like under all of your uniform for months—imagining the way your ass would bounce when he fucked you into the bed, and the way your tits would flow like the ocean when you rode him. He’d imagined everything.

His hot, exposed core then pressed against the backs of your thighs. You whined aloud, face pressed into the soft comforter.

He felt like fire against your skin. Chills ran down your arms as you realized the sheer size of him, trailing across both of your legs. Fuck.

“Take a deep breath in for me, sweetheart,” he said, clutching your hip tighter with one hand whilst holding himself with the other.

He lined himself up with your entrance, tracing the tip down through your folds. You moaned aloud at the sensation, preparing yourself to take every inch of him within you.

As he pushed himself into you, with little to no resistance from the climax you’d already been given, you cried out. He bottomed out—his hipbones pressed squarely against your ass.

He let out a soft groan. “Fuck, baby, you opened right up for me.”

His fingers massaged your hips as he seemed to adjust to your warmth, lips parted in a silent moan. In his reluctance to move within you, you turned and peered over your shoulder at him, relishing in his pleasure-woven expression.

His eyes peeked open to stare down at you. When his eyes met yours, he moaned aloud and immediately pulled himself out of you only to force back in.

As he pressed directly into that spot deep within your core, you gasped and fell back against the sheets, unable to keep yourself pushed up.

“Fuck, baby, don’t look at me like that,” he said, pounding into you. “Gonna make me fall in love, sweetheart.”

You giggled against the bed, muffled slightly by the pace he was setting. His words were almost as tantalizing as the way his body moved. At this point, though, you didn’t care if he wanted to fall in love or not, you just wanted his body and the way it was learning yours.

“What do you want, baby? Huh? What do you need?” he gasped, his breaths coming out in hard pants as he refused to let up.

“Mm—I need…,” your words trailed off, forced into the duvet. Your hand pulled away from the sheets it gripped onto, to slide between your legs.

When Mattheo realized where your fingers’ intended goal was, he snatched your wrist and pinned it to your spine. His pace quickened, his hips snapping into you like an incredible force. With his free hand, he released your waist and slid it down between your legs.

His dampened chest pressed against your back as he allowed his fingers to reach their full extent. When his fingers touched your core, it only took a few spirals of movement for you to come hard around him.

You screamed at the sensation, this orgasm twice as hard as the previous one. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as he pushed you through your climax, each thrust extending the feeling pulsing through your body.

Still, he never stopped the sensations every part of his body was giving to yours.

You tightened around him. He all but whined behind you, moaning louder with each gradually sloppier thrust.

“Where, baby?” he groaned. “Where do you want it?”

“I-Inside, please,” you begged, forcing him closer to you, refusing to let him pull away from you. “Please give it to me inside.”

He pushed and pushed until he was finally spilling with you, each warm pulsation echoing within you as deep as he was.

He worked himself through his own orgasm, not granting you any relief despite your weakness. As he came to a complete stop, you were barely able to hold yourself up. Your hips sank down pathetically as he pulled himself away from you, moaning softly as he watched his essence pour from your entrance.

“Fuck, mama, you look so good for me,” he whispered. His fingers traced along your core at the mixture of spends. You cried out at the pure oversensitivity you were experiencing.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he said, collecting the pooling of cum around you and slowly pushing his finger back into you.

“Fuck, Mattheo,” you whined, eyes clenching shut.

“I just wanna make sure you get all of it,” he whispered, leaning down to press a biting kiss to your ass cheek. You whimpered at the slight pain fluttering across your skin.

“As a matter of fact, baby, I think you're gonna give me one more… just so I can make sure you're gonna come back to me no matter what,” he said.

And before you realized what he meant and could protest, you felt his mouth press to your core once again, his tongue working dangerous symbols against you.

And before you could remember to return to the party, Mattheo actually gave you two more orgasms—one extra for ‘good measure,’ he'd said. And you had collapsed against the mattress one final time before drifting off into the heaviest, most dreamless sleep you'd had in a while.

Nothing, it seemed, had been done whilst you were asleep, except that he'd dressed you in a pair of his pajamas, placed you beneath the covers, drawn the curtains around his canopy bed, and slid himself right beneath you and the covers. Almost as if he'd always belonged there. It seemed as if he was finding quite a bit of those spaces lately.

- - -

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#creative writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle smut #self insert #slytherin boys #slytherin x gryffindor #requested

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pretentious-blonde · 27 days ago

Text

love

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: the confession

warnings: 18+ so many feelings, crying, crying during sex, smut, graphic descriptions of sex, p in v, steve in love, but also angst, panic??

a/n: this is long and took me so long to get it the way i wanted, so i really hope this was worth the wait. this is so sappy, but i feel like i say that about everything, but its TRUE

series masterlist

Steve had been fidgeting ever since they’d slid into the booth. It was a local lunch spot the two of them frequented—sticky vinyl seats, the comforting smell of fried food in the air, and a waitress who recognised them enough to offer a kindly smile.

Janine? Jamie, was it?

The familiarity did nothing to soothe him. It was a Saturday, you were at work, and Robin was here because he’d breathlessly told her on the phone that it was an “emergency.”

She nearly sprinted out the door, all too accustomed to handling his disasters. Some were worse than others, but she knew Steve would never use the word emergency unless the situation was actually dire.

His leg bounces, it rattles the underside of the table, causing the silverware to clink against the napkin dispenser. He’s so lost in his own head that, when the waitress returns to drop off two tall glasses of iced tea, he just stares past her, far too caught up to register her presence.

Robin, exasperated, shoots her an apologetic grin, silently promising that next time the service won’t be abysmal. She’s already planning to leave a generous tip by way of apology.

“Okay, drinks are here,” she says, the slightest edge of tough love in her voice.

She gestures at the sweating glasses in front of them, hoping that tangible proof of an official breakfast might pull him back down to Earth. She eyes him carefully, remembering the last time he used the word emergency.

It hadn’t been good.

She’d had to pick him up from school—the fifth graders were doing a presentation on black holes, and he could barely get the words out between the panic. The memories had blindsided him, crashing in from nowhere. Even he was startled by how easily he came undone.

But that was a year ago, and he seemed to be doing much better now. Which was exactly why he only used the term emergency when he meant it—and she was eager to find out what was going on.

Steve’s eyes hover on the condensation sliding down the glass as though it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he mutters, as his leg continues its relentless bouncing. “They are.”

Robin levels him with a stare.

“So can you please tell me what the hell this ‘big emergency’ is about before I go into cardiac arrest?”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking suddenly sheepish.

“Feels stupid now.”

Maybe he should have worded it better.

“Jesus Christ, Steve.” She throws up her hands. “Is it an emergency or not?”

“Yes—well, sort of…” he blurts, then slumps. “Ugh—it sounded bigger in my head.”

She gives him a once-over, her gaze drifting to the beads of sweat forming at his temple. His tension is off the charts.

Normally, she’d tease him about it, but she senses something deeper roiling behind his eyes.

“Okay,” she says, more gently now. “Okay, alright—whatever it is, I’m sure we can handle it. Is it a code red?”

The code for the Upside Down—something that should never come back but always remains a possibility.

“No,” he meets her eyes quickly, shaking his head. “Not a code red.”

Definitely not a code red.

Relief softens her shoulders, and she sips her tea.

“Then what is it? Is it your class?” She knows he adores his second-graders but also tends to fret over them like a mother.

“No.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Your girl?”

Silence.

Bingo.

“What did you do now?”

He looks at her, and for a moment, his expression faulters. He’s thinking about you—she knows it, because that dazed, hopeful, half-panicked look has you written all over it.

She’s watched him obsess for months, flushing anytime your name comes up, lighting up whenever you call. The love is so obvious it nearly radiates from him like a neon sign, and it’s been the quiet delight of her recent life to see her best friend discover something good after everything he’s lost.

But Steve is stuck in his own mind, once again.

He’s tried, on three separate occasions, to tell you he loves you.

The first time was in the early morning when you stayed over, tucked beneath his arm, more comforting than any night light or dreamless sleep. Looking after him and his supposed "migraine." He’d walked you to the door, cheeks still warm from the coffee and giggles in between. He’d felt the words tiptoe to the back of his throat—only to choke them down the moment your eyes met his in the golden dawn light.

The second time was on that warm evening you both decided to hike the highest trail in town to catch the perfect sunset. You teased him about being out of shape—he teased you about complaining the whole climb up. Then, at the top, you collapsed onto a worn log, looking out over the quarry and that spot the locals nicknamed Lovers Lake. He’d almost said it then, the sun painting your face with brilliant pinks and purples, but he chickened out at the last second, turned it into a corny joke, and convinced himself he needed “a perfect moment.”

The third time was just a few nights ago. You called him late—long after both of you should’ve been asleep. But you talked until your voices were languid with exhaustion, and as he drifted off, the words were right there again, creeping up through the haze of half-sleep. He’d bitten his tongue.

He wanted to see your face when he finally said it, wanted to watch your eyes well up. He knows you—of course, you’d cry; you cry at every heartfelt book ending and those sad animal adverts you catch on TV. Even when he manages to turn them off when they pop up, you’re still halfway gone, too sweet for your own good.

Too sweet for him, probably.

He wanted to be there to wipe your tears and hold you close, to make sure you understood just how serious his confession was—that he would always be there to shoulder your sadness, to offer back even a fraction of the care you’d given him.

But time was dragging on, and the pressure in his chest only intensified. He’s realised he doesn’t know how to go about it.

A fancy restaurant feels too public. He doesn’t want you sobbing at a linen-draped table in front of a hundred strangers, but something offhand or casual doesn’t do justice to how deeply he feels. In desperation, he’d rung Robin at 9 a.m., muttering cryptic nonsense that he needed to see her—emergency.

And here they are, his heart pounding so loudly he wonders if the entire diner can hear it.

“Steve,” she sighs to break his trance, drumming her fingers on the table, “what is going on? I can’t help unless you tell me.”

“It…” He tries to speak, breath catching in his throat. “it happened.”

Seriously?

“No, be more vague—please. I love playing twenty questions on my day off.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated exhale. If he can’t even tell his best friend he is in love with you, how the hell is he going to say it to your face?

“I… I love her, alright? I love her, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to go about it.”

There. He said it.

The first step was done—admitting it out loud

“Oh,” she blinks, as if that’s not a shock to her in the slightest.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“No, I mean…” Robin sets her glass down. “I kinda thought you were already, like, there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That night at the bar?” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

He pictures you in the dim light, how your laughter danced against the clinking bottles and pounding music, how you’d held his hand a little tighter tighter under the table, how later—teeth and tongue, filthy words turned soft and sweet come the morning hangover—he’d known something had shifted, maybe even before that. A flush still creeps up his neck at the memory.

“Was it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so, loverboy.” She offers him a sympathetic grin.

“But that’s not the problem.” He groans and buries his face in his hands.

She tilts her head. “Then what is?”

He looks up, eyes flicking around to ensure no one is eavesdropping.

“Avery.”

Fucking Avery.

“Your therapist?”

“Yeah.”

“Wasn’t he the one who was supportive of your whole ‘journey to recovery’?” She tries to contain her confusion. “I mean, you finally talking to her was a huge deal.”

It had been a huge deal—which meant this was, by extension, just as monumental.

“He is supportive. But…” He rubs a hand over his chin, dropping his voice. “He made it extremely clear that the 'journey' would not consist of telling her… you know.”

At that, Robin’s face tightens with understanding. Dr Avery was no regular therapist—he was government-provided, more or less, to help him process the lethal secrets he’d been forced to swallow.

“Is that… is that a problem for you?”

Not talking about it?

“Yes and no,” he feels his chest tighten. “I’ve told her the bare bones,” he admits, “but she wants more. Worse is, I want to tell her, but—fuck—I don’t know what to do.”

He wants to tell you—and he knows you want to know.

He was getting close, ready to let you in completely. But this had blindsided him, a curveball he never saw coming. He’d never realised how unclear the boundaries were—he knew better than to spill his trauma to the local cashier, but it hadn’t occurred to him that the same silence might apply to the people closest to him.

Robin’s eyes flit around, making sure no one’s close enough to overhear.

“Would it be, y’know, bad if you told her?”

He read between the lines, nodding once.

“Definitely,” he says, remembering the warning, the seecretive nature of everything that happened beneath Hawkins. The last thing he wants is for you to be thrown into the crosshairs of that madness.

She frowns, tapping the table with restless fingers, trying to find a solution.

“So stick to basics?”

“I’ve done that.” He wrinkles his brow. “She knows about the fire at the old mall.”

“Stick to what’s public.” She sighs, exasperated but determined. “The Mall fire, the ‘earthquake,’ Will going missing—hell, all that stuff’s in the papers. The town believed it. If she goes digging, that’s all she’s gonna find.”

He tries to picture it. You’re smart—he’s always known that. When you latch onto something, you chase it down until you have every answer. It’s one of the things he admires about you.

You couldn’t possibly guess the truth, right?

Not even your imagination could stretch that far.

“She might suspect something,” he worries out loud. “She’s too sharp to not notice the gaps.”

“How can she suspect the actual ‘truth’?” She lifts both hands in air quotes to punctuate the word. “Look—It’s not ideal, I know. But what choice do you have? Unless you plan on taking the risk and telling her everything.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” he says firmly.

He doesn’t even have to think about it.

The idea of you being in danger twists his stomach with dread.

“Then this is the only option.” She nods, as if she knew that would be his response. “It’s safer for everyone involved. Once you get that conversation out of the way, she probably won’t ask again, unless it’s necessary. She cares about you enough to respect that boundary, especially if it’s so obviously painful.”

She’s got a point—though it’s not one he’s particularly fond of.

“I don’t like it.”

Again with the lying.

“Neither do I,” she agrees softly, “but it’s the best we’ve got for now. And who knows? Maybe in a few years, once you’ve both proven you’re in it for the long haul, you can push to let her know more. But for now… it’s safer to keep it quiet.”

He considers this, letting the logic sink in.

He pictures your face, the soft ways your expression shifts whenever you sense he’s holding something back. You’d do anything to protect him—he knows that, and in turn, he’d do anything to protect you. If this is the path to keep you safe and build a future, then so be it.

“Okay…” He exhales, nodding slowly. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

He can do that.

Robin’s lips curve into a relieved smile.

“Perfect, now we’ve got that out of the way…”

She takes another sip, then shoves her drink aside like it personally offended her. Leaning in, elbows on the table, she rests her chin in her palms and flashes him a grin sharp enough to cut glass.

“Got any plans for your big, sweeping declaration of love? Or let me guess, you’re just gonna wing it—blurt it out in a moment of chaos, spiral into a full-blown meltdown, then call me freaking out because it’s an ‘emergency’ again?”

“I would so not do that.”

“Mhm. Sure. History really backs you up there, champ.”

Steve had spent nearly an hour that afternoon pacing between rows of delicate floral displays, Robin’s voice buzzing in his head.

Keep it simple, but, like, not too simple. Just make it romantic.

He took her at her word. Red roses? Too cliched. Tulips? Sold out. Lilies? He scrunched his nose because something about them felt too solemn—like he’d be bringing home a funeral arrangement, and God knew he’d had enough of death in his life.

Eventually, the florist guided him to the pink carnations, speaking softly about how they symbolised gratitude. He latched onto that word.

Gratitude.

He watched, vaguely mesmerised, as the florist carefully wrapped the gentle stems in translucent paper. He only half-listened to her explanation of meaning and symbolism. In truth, he was more focused on how neatly she tied the bow, imagining the look on your face when he handed them over. He might have stammered something about how you deserved more than carnations, but the florist just smiled and assured him you’d love them.

He hoped she was right.

Next stop was the grocery store, where he raided the snack aisle like a man on a mission. M&Ms, Reese’s, a bag of your favorite crisps—he wanted you to have options. Tonight had to be soft and sweet, the perfect reflection of you. If everything went according to plan, it would be the start of something even more meaningful.

The final kicker had actually been Robin’s idea—she was good for some things, he supposed.

She’d suggested he book a weekend away, just the two of you, to finally have the big conversation about his past—or at least the basics.

Somewhere you could choose together, a little hideaway where you’d drag him into every antique shop and he wouldn’t dare complain. Where you’d come home in the evening, and he’d fight you when it came down to who’s cooking. He’d sit you on the counter so you could watch, tasting as he goes. Somewhere with a fireplace. Somewhere warm. Somewhere he could lose himself in you, if only for a few days.

He’d tell you as much as he could, and you could leave it there—stronger for it.

It was foolproof.

He just had to tell you he loved you first.

No big deal.

Except it was the biggest thing he’d done in years.

By the time he parked outside your shop, the day was winding down. The lights were faint through the windows, and he could see you behind the counter with your nose in a book, the edges of your world looking downright peaceful.

He steeled himself, took a breath, and shouldered the bag of goodies and flowers.

He was going to do this.

He was going to walk in there, see your smile, and at least try not to fuck it up.

The little bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside. You glanced up, frowning at the idea of a customer so late to closing. Realisation soon dawned and your face lit with a smile as you recognised who it was. He managed a wave, and when you spotted the carnations and the rustling grocery bag, your expression softened as you shoved your book aside.

You were around the counter in two heartbeats, practically throwing yourself into his arms. He caught you with a small oof, but the sound turned into a warm laugh.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“What’s all this?” you asked, taking a small step back but keeping your hands curled in the fabric of his jacket.

He glanced down at the bag in one hand and the bouquet in the other, pretending to look them over like he’d just noticed them himself.

“What? I can’t surprise you after work?”

You pressed your lips together in a playful smile.

“If you’re gonna show up like this,” you teased, gesturing to the flowers, “then you can always surprise me after work.”

“Noted,” he said. He gently passed the carnations to you, watched you inhale their sweet fragrance.

The kiss you offered him in thanks was brief but lingering enough to stir the butterflies in his stomach. He savoured the feeling of your mouth against his, of the way you exhaled softly when his hand rested on your waist. When you pulled back, you lifted the grocery bag curiously.

“If there are M&Ms in here, I’m guessing a movie night?”

Hmm, close enough.

“Yeah,” he let out a breathy chuckle. “Something like that.”

You beamed up at him and he felt a little more centered.

He wasn’t going to screw this up—he could already feel it.

“I’m gonna go put these in some water,” you said, cradling the flowers against your chest. “Would you mind locking the door, please?”

“On it,” he replied quickly.

He made sure to flip the sign from Open to Closed, then turned the lock with a satisfying click. He tested the door twice—overly cautious, but it soothed him.

He didn’t want anything interrupting what he was about to do—not a stray customer, not a single distraction. This was the night he’d been imagining for a week straight. Every version he’d fantasised about, he didn’t want to end.

Sometimes, in those daydreams, you cried.

Sometimes, you kissed him before he was even finished.

But his absolute favourite—the one he cherished the most—was the version where you gently shushed him, eyes soft, and repeated his words.

Told him you loved him back.

He follows you upstairs. It smells of the flowers you’ve just placed in a vase, their fragrance mingling with the old-book scent that seems to cling to every corner of your life.

You rifle through the shopping bag too, unearthing treasure, pulling out chocolate bars and snack packs with a sound of genuine delight that sends warmth flooding through him. In the last few weeks alone, he’s realised how simple moments like these—the mundane, the domestic—can feel like revelations when shared.

He was a giver—he was starting to understand that now.

It had been hard, for a long time, to recall what that felt like. He used to give so easily, so instinctively, to anyone who needed him. Maybe that part of him had never really disappeared. He still gave himself to his work, poured everything he had into it—but this was different. This wasn’t obligation or survival. He wanted to give to you, simply because it made you happy.

“You really went all out here,” you tease, glancing at the near-overflowing pile of sweets.

“Not really,” he replies with a shrug, trying to play it cool. “Just the stuff I know you like.”

“Okay, but you got pretty much everything… twice.”

Yeah, maybe it was overboard.

“Didn’t want you to run out,” he mumbles, but it’s not just about the snacks.

“You trying to sweeten me up or something?” You cock a brow at him, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckles, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders melt away.

“No, not quite,” his hands find your waist, drawing you closer. “C’mon, tell me about your day.”

You roll your eyes dramatically, but there’s affection there still. Before he knows it, you’ve grabbed his hand and tugged him across the room. He stumbles after you, nearly tripping over a stray book, and you steer him toward the couch, dropping down opposite him. The cushions dip under his weight, and he shifts to face you, his full attention locked on your every movement.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you begin with a dramatic sigh, leaning your head back against the couch.

“What do you mean?”

“Deal with kids all day.” You throw your hands up as you explain. “You take your eyes off them for just one second, and they basically destroy the place.”

Steve snorts in empathy, recollecting all the mishaps he’s encountered in his classroom—spilled paint jars, glue-eating incidents, that one kid who insisted on running around with scissors directly pointed upward.

He still claims his job ‘helps’ him cope with stress.

“Yeah, they do tend to do that,” he says trying to hold in a grin.

He recalls his first week on the job, wide-eyed and clueless. He’d had to stop one of the braver second graders from chowing down on some crayons; that memory still makes him chuckle, even as he had to remind himself it was ‘non-toxic.’

“So, what happened?”

You exhale again in frustration, throwing an arm over your eyes in an exaggerated show of exasperation.

“A kid came in—not one of yours, obviously—”

“Obviously.”

“—and the dad was completely oblivious to what he was doing. I swear, like, no control at all. The kid thought it’d be real funny to pull all the books from the lower shelves onto the floor. The ones I’d just reorganised that morning.”

“Maybe he was looking to buy.” His eyes crinkle in amusement.

“He wasn’t.” You shoot him a narrow glare. “Funnily enough, I don’t think he was in the market for Tennyson.”

“You never know,” he quips, fighting a smirk, “could be really advanced for his age.”

“By the way he tore some of the pages loose, I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

He winces at the thought of ruined books—he’s never been the biggest reader, but he knows how it’d break your heart to see the torn pages.

“Need me to help sort them?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I managed to get it done after they left. The dad didn’t even say sorry though.”

“Sounds like I came at the right time, huh?” He leans forward and nudges your foot with his own, a playful attempt to lighten your mood.

“You have no idea.” You return the nudge with a small kick, your eyes relax as you look at him, letting out a breath. Finally able to uncoil after the trauma of the afternoon.

You refocus your attention back on him, folding your arm under your cheek so you can look.

“Tell me about your day, make me feel better.”

“It wasn’t as eventful as yours.” He rubs the back of his neck and offers a modest laugh.

It's been monumental if you knew the details.

“Don’t care,” you say, shrugging. “Bore me then.”

He shifts on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position for what he knows is about to happen.

“Well,” he says, “I saw Rob.”

“Oh?”

“She says hi.”

“Hi back,” you reply, and even though you’re not looking at him with suspicion, he feels the nerves swell in his ribs.

“We had a… talk.” He swallows.

Ok, that sounded ominous.

Concern flashes across your features, and you straighten.

“Is everything alright?”

When he sees that hint of worry in your eyes—the immediate readiness to drop everything for his sake—he feels a little guilty.

“She’s fine,” he reassures quickly. “Everything is fine.”

“Oh… So, what was it?”

He takes a steadying breath, feeling the moment begin to unravel before him.

“I… I wanted to ask you something.”

“Is it bad?”

“No, I mean… no, I don’t think so.”

“Because if it is, you can tell me.”

“I know.”

“And I promise I can help,” you insist, already leaning in, your hands inching toward him as if you’ll physically hold his problems for him if you have to.

“No, you don’t have to—”

“Because if you needed I could shut the shop for a while—”

"That's not—"

"And I've got the whole day off tomorrow."

"No, I—"

"And the day after as well—"

“Fuck, sweetheart, please.”

Let him do this.

He surprises even himself with the urgency in his tone. In one smooth motion, he leans forward, resting his palms on your shoulders. The earnestness on your face practically knocks the air out of his lungs.

“I know you would,” he assures, voice going softer. “I know, but it’s not anything like that.”

He can see your tension unravel a fraction, posture turning sheepish.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmurs, the corners of his mouth curving into a near-smile. “Don’t ever be sorry for trying, alright? Don’t.”

You never need to apologise for that.

You nod, eyes focused on him now, waiting.

He steels himself, heart thudding, the next words feeling far too big for his body.

Robin had been right—he’s probably going to butcher this. He always does when it comes to words. They get tangled, come out wrong, never quite land the way he means.

She’d also told him something else: that the words don’t have to be perfect, just honest—as honest as they can be. And that part, he knows he can do. Because you’ll let him say them—however clumsy or messy or cracked they come out—you’ll give him the space to try.

“I… I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment to tell you everything, and it’s just… never felt like the right time.”

He drags in a breath, noticing the way your expression shifts to something gentler, more open. The subject matter is a rocky one—one you know he has to take his time articulating.

“And I know it hasn’t been fair to you. I know that. I hate how much I hold back. It fucking kills me that I can’t give you everything. You’re the one person who’s shown up, over and over, and all I’ve done is make you wait—you don’t deserve that, angel.”

“Steve…” You start softly, but he holds up his hand, not unkindly, just asking for silence.

He needs to do this.

“Can—can you just let me finish?”

Please?

You nod, giving him the space he needs. He forces down the lump in his throat.

Here goes nothing.

“I didn’t know if I was gonna get any better,” he says, voice unsteady. “If I could get any better. But I feel like… I feel like I’ve come further with you than I ever would’ve on my own.”

Your lips part, like you want to protest or tell him he’s stronger than he thinks—to give himself some more credit at the progress he has made already. He senses your thought process immediately.

“I’m serious, angel. I—I never would’ve even thought about asking someone out a couple years ago. I couldn’t. I didn’t think I had it in me. Hell—even a year ago—I was still barely holding myself together. But you��”

He swallows hard, the words catching in his throat.

“You made it feel like maybe I could. Like I could be someone again—like I’m allowed to want things. And you—God, you made it look so easy. Just by showing up.”

He stumbles over his words, then closes his eyes for a brief second, gathering the courage to keep going.

“But I think I’m ready now… for all of it.”

As much as he could be.

His eyes find yours again—soft, but sure.

“I wanna tell you everything. All the stuff I’ve been carrying ‘round, the things I’ve never said out loud. And I wanted to do it right, you know? Spent weeks going in circles, trying to come up with some perfect way to say it—some big moment…”

He swallows, shoulders tense with the effort of holding this together.

“So I thought… if you wanted, we could go away. Just us. Somewhere quiet. Doesn’t have to be far—just somewhere not here.”

Somewhere safe.

“Anywhere you want. I’ll go wherever you say—I just want it to be with you.”

He sees your breath catch at the suggestion, a flash of surprise. His voice is trembling, but he keeps going, heart pounding.

“But only if you want to.”

His voice dips lower, almost a whisper now.

“I just… I wanted to show you how much I mean it.”

How much you mean to him.

“Because… I’ve fallen for you.”

He laughs—barely. A nervous breath of sound.

“And I didn’t mean to—not like this. Not before I had the chance to tell you everything—to explain the stuff I’m still figuring out. But I did. I fell anyway. It just… happened. Somewhere between you showing up that day at my class and the way you came running when you thought I might have needed you.”

He shakes his head, eyes glassy now, gaze flicking to your lips, your hands, back to your eyes.

“And I needed you to know that—because even if I screw the rest of this up, even if I say the wrong thing or shut down when I shouldn’t.”

He draws in one more breath, steadying himself, giving you the only thing he’s got left.

“Because… I love you.”

The words are soft, cracked around the edges. But they’re whole.

Real.

Full.

“I love you,” he says again. “And—and I don’t want to keep holding it in. Not when this is the one thing you need to know the most.”

You look at him, stunned.

He loves you.

Not in passing. Not in hesitation. Not in a way that’s half-formed or waiting for a safer time. He loves you—and he’s sitting here, offering you all of it.

It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear. Everything you’ve been aching for these past few weeks—shreds of a story and guarded hints that never led anywhere, never made it past the walls he’d built around himself. And now he’s cracked them wide open, just for you.

Your breath catches, trembling in your chest as you try to process the enormity of what he’s just said.

This isn’t just about love. It’s about trust. It’s about finally being let in.

And God, he’s come so fucking far.

From the anxious, soft-spoken teacher who sat across from you on your first date, nervously stirring his coffee and dodging eye contact, to this—a man who’s still afraid, yes, but speaking through the fear anyway.

You’ve seen all of him. The good, the bad, the broken. Every scar, every silence. You’ve touched the places he thought he had to bury just to be loved, and not once did you see anything but someone worth staying for.

He was Steve Harrington.

Steve.

The one who tucks notes into your books when you’re not looking. Who always remembers how you take your tea. Who calls you at 2 a.m. just to hear your voice when the dark gets too heavy.

And yes, he blames you for the changes. Says it like a joke, like a sweet little sin you’re both in on. But you know the truth.

He’s always had this in him.

You just had the honour of watching him remember. And now, he’s starting to believe it too.

Before you even realise it, you’re crying. Not the loud kind, not sobbing—just the aching kind of where the feeling swells too fast to react.

He sees it instantly. His eyes dart to yours, wide with concern, watching the tears gather along your lashes like they’re something fragile he wishes he could catch before they fall.

He wants to reach for you. Wants to wipe the wetness from your cheeks, press his hand to your face, promise you you’re okay now, that he’s here. That he means every word.

But he doesn’t move.

He stays completely still, watching you, his chest rising and falling as he braces himself.

He almost curses himself for making you cry. Even though he knows it’s not from pain. But it doesn’t matter. His first instinct is to protect you—even from yourself. From your own softness. From the overwhelm he understands too well.

But this is your moment now. And he owes it to you not to rush it.

Just—please.

Say something.

Your voice breaks through the silent space between you, almost trembling, like it might crack in your throat.

“Do—do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

His answer is immediate.

“Yes, I do.”

He really does.

You exhale shakily, and before he even has time to process it, you’re already reaching for him. Latching onto him like it’s instinct, like your body decided before your mind could catch up. You wrap yourself around him, trembling, and his arms respond immediately.

He gathers you into his lap, tethering you there against him. Your face buries into the curve of his neck, your breath hot and unsteady against his skin, and all he can do is hold you.

One hand cradles the back of your head, weaving gently through your hair like it’ll help soothe the storm. The other curls tight around your back, palm spread across your shoulder blades, anchoring you to him, keeping you close.

He can feel you shaking.

“Hey, hey… c’mere,” he whispers, voice low, breaking at the edges.

This he hadn’t braced himself for.

A few tears, maybe. Something overly sentimental.

But not this.

Not a full collapse. Not the way you’re clinging to him like he’s a lifeline and your heart’s been holding this weight too long.

He hadn’t realised—hadn’t let himself realise—just how much this would mean to you.

Just how long you’ve been waiting.

Your face is pressed into his shoulder now, and he can feel the soft dampness of your tears soaking into his shirt.

You’re not making a sound, but your body is saying everything. And it tears something open in him.

He never wanted to make you cry like this.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your temple as he leans in. “I gotchu.”

He's got you.

His arms tighten around you just a little more. He lets you stay folded into him, rocking you gently like the smallest motion might ground you both.

“Talk to me.”

He needs to hear your voice. Needs to know you’re okay.

Needs to know his words didn’t just crack something open—they made room for something new to begin.

Slowly, you pull back. Your hands are still curled in his shirt, but you ease enough to look at his face. He almost breaks at the sight of you—eyes red-rimmed, tears sparkling.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup, your voice small.

His instincts push to console you, to promise that there’s nothing to be sorry for. You see the protest forming on his lips, and you rush on,

“I’m sorry, I just know how—how hard this was for you, and—and—I’m sorry.”

His chest immediately tightens with guilt.

This is his fault.

He cups your cheeks carefully, thumbs stroking the tears away. He shushes you softly, like he would with one of his kids.

“Stop saying sorry, alright?” he murmurs, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for making you wait so long.”

You start to argue, but emotion closes your throat. You just swallow, trembling a little.

“I told you it was alright to wait,” you manage, voice rough.

He offers the softest huff of laughter, letting his fingers continue to brush your cheeks.

“Yeah, but you were lying.”

Your mouth wobbles again, and more tears threaten to spill.

“I just wanted to help,” you whisper, like a confession you’re half-ashamed of.

Of course you would.

“Some things you can’t fix like that,” he says, gentle but firm, still wiping away the tears as they fall.

You sniff, nodding slightly, blinking away a few more.

“We can go anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

If you asked him to leave tonight, he would.

Another shaky nod as you inhale, finally steadying yourself.

“And we’ll talk about everything?”

“We’ll talk about everything,” he echoes.

As best as he can.

His hand comes to rest gently at your jaw, thumb grazing the curve of your bottom lip.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Thank you, Steve—fuck, I love you. Thank you for trusting me, and for—” your breath hitches, the words tripping over the same as his, “—I—fuck, I love you too.”

I love you, too.

Time doesn’t feel real. The room disappears. There’s only you—and the sound of your voice, those words tumbling from your lips, a truth that sets his heart alight.

It’s everything he’s been waiting for. Everything he was afraid he’d never hear.

You’re still crying, but there’s a smile on your lips now, radiant, and it’s the quite possibly most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He's got you.

You're here.

He’s yours.

He shifts his chin against the side of the tub, staring at you blissfully in the steam-filled bathroom.

The warm water laps gently against your skin, and though you keep telling him he doesn’t have to stay, he shakes his head each time, unwilling to be anywhere else. The night’s confessions still buzz in his chest.

No matter how close he’d already been to you, pressed tight against your side after the tears had finally slowed (yours and maybe his too, but that's beside the point), it still wasn’t enough.

After everything spilt out—and he grabbed the tissues and sweets from the counter—he’d practically dragged you on top of him to watch a movie. Your choice, obviously. Not that he was paying attention.

You could’ve put on a blank screen and he still would’ve stared at you like it was the greatest film ever made.

And when the pizza delivery came?

He groaned, like answering the door was some great injustice, because it meant peeling himself away from you for thirty tragic seconds.

But as soon as dinner was over, he was right back on you.

Every touch, every wandering kiss, every soft sigh against your skin—it was all just another way to be closer.

He was a man in love.

Hopelessly, stupidly, clingily in love.

The bath water glistens around you, the bubbles dissolving into feathery streaks against your arms. Steve props himself up a bit, folding his arms on the edge of the tub, and rests his chin there like a curious puppy. He watches the delicate slope of your shoulders, the slight flush on your cheeks, the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

Yep, he’s in love, alright.

“Maybe we could go south,” you say, your voice echoing softly in the tiled room. “Weather’s getting nice.”

“Yeah,” he answers, the corners of his mouth lifting. “We absolutely could.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I already told you,” he lets out a small chuckle. “That’s up to you.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Yeah, but I want it to be somewhere you’d like too.”

“As long as you’re there, I really don’t have an opinion.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but the truth is written all over his face.

He’d go anywhere with you.

A laugh escapes you, and you flick water toward him, droplets hitting his cheek.

“I’m serious! We could do that thing where we throw a dart at a map.”

“Do you own a dartboard?”

“Uh, no?”

“Or a map?”

“I work in a school. I could always find one.”

Could always steal an atlas from the older years. They didn't need to know.

“What if it lands on, like, France or somewhere?”

“Then we go to France,” he declares. “They say Paris is pretty romantic.”

“Hmm,” you tilt your head, considering him with a fondness in your eyes. “Bet it has nothing on you.”

He just shrugs at the compliment, trying and failing to hide how flustered it makes him.

“We can talk about it in the morning, alright?” you say, your tone softer now. “You staying?”

He answers with a look—one that clearly asks if you’re serious. It’s a ridiculous idea and you both knew it.

“Right, sorry.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “Stupid question.”

You gesture to the towel draped on a nearby rack. He stands, water droplets sliding off his forearm, and offers you his hand. You let him help you up, and he wraps the towel around you, completely unhurried.

He follows you into the bedroom, leaning back across the bed and propping himself up on his elbows.

He doesn’t speak.

Just watches.

You begin your post-shower routine, patting your face with moisturiser, smoothing your hair back from your forehead with gentle fingers to keep it from frizzing where the steam might have kissed it. It’s all so ordinary.

He wants to watch you do it every night.

Wants this same scene months from now, when your things are tangled in with his—your toothbrush beside his, your makeup on his drawers, your robe slung over the chair you both pretend isn’t a laundry drop zone.

“I can feel you staring at me,” you say, not looking up, voice teasing as you rummage through the drawer.

He doesn’t even try to deny it.

“Am I not allowed?”

Turning halfway, you give him a playful glance over your shoulder. He meets your gaze head-on, and the corner of his mouth quirks in a smile so warm, it practically melts you from across the room.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, gesturing you closer with a subtle lift of his chin.

“Why?”

“Just wanna be close,” he says, voice dipping. “You're too far.”

You roll your eyes as you cross the room, still wrapped in your towel, and sit down beside him. The mattress shifts under your weight, and he leans in, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingertips trail across your temple and cheekbone, leaving a tingling sensation.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly, eyes searching and looking painfully similar to the way his had been this evening.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Take a wild guess.

“Yeah,” You raise a brow at him. “I would.”

Still grinning, he lets his hand slip around to cradle the side of your neck. He can feel your pulse under his palm.

“I’m thinking,” he says, pausing when his voice turns low and steady, “just how lucky I am.”

Your cheeks flush instantly, and you duck your head with a half-hearted groan.

“Stop it,” you whine through a grin, trying to deflect the embarrassment.

“What?” He laughs softly. “I’m serious, sweetheart.”

His hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I got you. Don’t you get it?”

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy, and he just keeps going.

“I don’t know how I did it—you chose me. Out of everyone—don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking about that.”

He still doesn’t quite believe it, maybe that’s why he’s been so close this evening.

“You’re gonna make me cry again,” you admit, voice barely there.

He shakes his head gently, thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice like sweet sugar, “hey now, no more tears, alright?”

His gaze softens further as he leans in.

“Too pretty to be crying over me.”

You scoff, but the sound is brittle.

He doesn’t realise how impossible that ask really is.

“You make it hard when you talk like that,” you murmur, trying to keep the emotion at bay.

You think this is bad?

“Sweetheart…” he leans in until the tip of his nose nudges yours. ”I haven’t even begun to say all the things I want to yet.”

Goosebumps prickled along your arms at the husky undercurrent in his tone. Before you can respond, he lowers his head to press a soft kiss to the curve of your neck.

“Gonna say a lot more tonight,” he speaks against your skin, breath tickling slightly. “You gonna let me?”

Please, let him.

He shifts on the bed beside you, the heat of his chest radiating against your shoulder and arm. You can feel his breath, sweeping across your cheek. His eyes trace your face—then move lower, lingering on the spot where the towel clings to your damp skin.

His gaze is hungry yet careful, silently asking if this is still what you want. You can’t help but nod, your heart thumping, your thighs squeezing together.

He presses closer, leaning in until his mouth hovers over yours. You can taste the quiet groan in his throat even before your lips connect. His kiss is warm, unhurried—an ache made tangible as his hand settles on your thigh, fingers splayed against the soft flesh. He shifts his weight, and the towel slips a fraction, baring more of your skin to the cool air.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Your breath stutters, but you nod, letting him lift the towel away. The cotton slides from your chest and falls to the side, leaving you completely exposed. A quiet curse slips from his mouth as his eyes rake over every curve, every inch of bare skin.

He sets one hand at your waist, the other trailing across your stomach until his fingertips brush the top of your core. Your abdomen quivers under his touch. He leans in to kiss you again, his lips parting against yours in a slow, possessive drag of tongue and teeth, while his knuckles glide lower.

“So fucking pretty,” he whispers between kisses. “I mean—Jesus, baby—gotta tell you more often.”

You can’t help it—you blush, glance away, shakily trying to laugh it off.

“You’re—you’re just saying that ’cause the towel’s off.”

His head snaps up at that.

“Are you kidding?”

He can’t hide his disbelief.

“You’re always this pretty—all the time.”

Drives him wild.

His hand moves lower before you can come up with a retort, sliding between your thighs. Your breath stutters as his palm presses firmly against you, heat blooming instantly in your belly.

His fingers part you with ease, gliding through the slick gathered there—and the sound he lets out is wrecked.

“Fuck,” he mutters, letting his fingertips glide over your swollen clit. “You’re soaked, angel.”

A quiver racks your body as he circles that sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb, sending electricity dancing up your spine. You can’t help the moan that spills from your lips—breathy, desperate. He savours it, his eyes flicking up to watch your face contort with pleasure.

“Sound sweeter every time,” he murmurs, sliding two fingers lower. He traces your entrance, feeling the flutter of your cunt welcoming him, before pressing carefully inside. Your slick muscles clamp down around him, and his forehead falls to your shoulder. “Wish you could see yourself, like a fucking angel.”

His angel, just for him.

Your nails dig into the strong curve of his bicep, clinging to him as he begins to thrust. There’s a slight stretch that borders on pain, but it melts into pure pleasure with each careful push. You gasp and arch your back, letting your thighs spread wider, inviting him deeper.

“Steve...” you whimper, voice shaking with need.

His response is a low, broken sigh. He withdraws his fingers almost all the way, then sinks them back in, hooking them just enough to stroke against that spot that makes your hips jerk.

He lifts his head and looks transfixed—watching your face, your parted lips, the way your breasts rise and fall with every ragged breath. He pulls you closer to him, leaning on him, so he can feel every response of yours.

“That’s it,” he rasps, pressing his thumb over your clit again. He rubs in tight circles, matching the rhythm of his fingers inside you. “Can feel you squeezing me—you close already?”

You nod as your body tightens around him, pleasure coiling at the base of your spine. You bite back a cry, tears pricking at your eyes from the overwhelming emotion surging through you.

“I’m—I’m close—”

He groans in encouragement, pivoting his wrist just enough to press into you deeper.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbles. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

A final rush of heat washes over you, your orgasm tearing through your limbs in dizzying waves. You pulse around his fingers, cunt gripping him again and again. He holds your gaze, his hand never slowing until you whimper at the oversensitivity. Your toes curl, your breath hitching on a strangled moan. You quake in his arms, heart hammering against your ribs.

When it subsides, he eases his fingers out, palm sliding up to rest on your thigh, caressing the damp skin. His chest rises and falls heavily, you can sense his own arousal thrumming through him, begging for release.

“You okay?” He asks gently, as you nod, still catching your breath.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “More than okay.”

He smiles at that, soft and maybe a little bashful as he leans in to press a warm kiss to the side of your mouth. His other hand comes up to brush your hair gently from your face as he shifts. His eyes search yours, almost shy.

“Good,” he says quietly, voice dipping lower.

A pause.

“Because I’m not done.”

You blink up at him, heart stuttering.

He holds your gaze as he continues, barely more than a whisper.

“Because…”

Fuck it's corny, but he doesn't care.

“Because I still need to make love to you.”

Your eyes begin to water again, but he is quick to shush you.

“Let me love you, angel.”

He watches your eyes glisten, tears threatening to spill, and his chest squeezes with so much emotion he can barely breathe. He reaches up, thumb swiping gently under one of your eyes to catch a stray tear.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice trembling with sincerity. “I got you, alright?”

So much for the “no more tears.”

He steps back, every cell in his body alive. With one quick tug, his shirt is off and discarded, exposing the lean planes of his torso. The scars he once worried about don’t even cross his mind—he’s too focused on the way your lips part as you take in the sight of him. In seconds, his jeans and boxers are gone too, and you feel a rush of heat at the need written across his face.

You reach for him, practically pawing at his shoulders, but he slows you with a gentle hand. He presses his mouth to yours, but there’s a fire underneath it—he can’t hide the low whine that escapes him when his naked body meets yours. His cock, hard and straining, slips against your inner thigh, catching the slick arousal that’s already pooled there.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips, grinding carefully, almost sliding where you need him. It sends a shudder of pleasure through both of you as you urge him closer.

“Baby—slow down,” he pleads, hand finding your wrist as you try to pull him to you. “Don’t wanna rush it.”

His eyes are half-lidded, raw with passion, but determined to savour every second. You let out a needy whimper, not bothering to hide the tremble in your voice.

“I—I want you,” you whisper, desperate. “Please.”

He dips his head, pressing a reassuring kiss to your cheek. You see devotion, love, adoration in his eyes.

“We have all night, okay?” he murmurs.

And all of tomorrow.

You can only nod, tears threatening again—this time from the overwhelming flood of love swelling in your chest. He brushes his lips over your cheek, trailing down until he reaches the hollow of your throat, where your pulse thrums under his mouth.

He pulls back just far enough to guide his cock through your folds, gliding over your clit and gathering the wetness that’s waiting for him. You arch your back, breath hitching at the contact.

He thinks you’re beautiful, but he’s always thought that. Like the universe had dropped you into his unsteady life on purpose. Just for him.

“Do—do you remember when we first met?” he blurts suddenly, words tumbling out in a rush of emotion. His voice is rough. He drags his cock across your slick again, and you whine at the friction.

You blink up at him, mind hazy but catching the glaze in his eyes.

“Steve…?” you manage, unsure why he’s bringing this up now.

But he’s too far gone, mouth running wild with the confession.

“Couldn’t get you out of my head,” he rasps, referencing your bookshop and that first day all those months ago. “Been on my mind from the beginning.” He lines himself up with your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing at your opening. His eyes find yours—vulnerable.

“Fucking dreaming of you since day one.”

The first time you smiled at him, he knew he was a goner.

In a slow, deliberate motion, he pushes into you, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated to the hilt. You gasp at the stretch, tears pricking at your eyes again, but for a whole new reason.

“Oh—oh, shit—” You cling to his shoulders, your body arching, a keening moan slipping free when he stops, buried inside you.

He drops his forehead to your shoulder, trying to steady his breathing. You feel him tremble, his whole frame taut with the effort to keep from thrusting too soon. The wet slide of him inside your cunt is incredible, and you can sense the way his heart hammers against your chest.

He kisses the curve of your neck, open-mouthed, panting against your skin.

“Fuck, baby—I—Jesus—”

His voice is ragged, barely forming the words

“Don’t even know what you do to me—feel so fucking good—think I’m gonna—”

He thrusts forward, deep and slow, hitting your cervix with a guttural moan.

Your breath catches, a high, broken sound escaping your lips as your fingers claw at his scarred back.

“Every time you touched me before this—” he groans, picking up a rhythm now, hips rolling, “Thought I was gonna fucking break.”

Another thrust—deep, grinding. You sob his name, but it’s barely a sound, just air. The way he’s filling you, stretching you, loving you—it’s too much. All you can do is take it, tears building at the corners of your eyes, jaw slack, mind spiraling as his words crash over you.

He presses his forehead to yours, voice cracking open like it hurts.

“I love you,” he chokes, broken and soaked in feeling.

“I love you—been wanting to say it every time we, God—every time I had you—nearly killed me.”

He sounds wrecked, like the confession is tearing him open in the best way. You cry harder, overwhelmed, cupping his face with trembling hands.

“Fuck, Steve—” your voice shatters against his lips. “I love you—I love you too, please, please don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promises in a strained whisper.

Never gonna stop loving you.

His thrusts pick up pace, each one sending sparks through your veins. He leans in to capture your mouth in a messy, desperate kiss, swallowing the moans you can’t contain. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, urging him closer, deeper. He can’t seem to tear his eyes from your face—like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted to see.

“You’re mine,” he gasps, voice turning hoarse as the pleasure coils tight in his gut. “Shit—say you’re mine—”

His.

Your reply is a broken cry of his name, your inner walls fluttering around him. He feels it the second your orgasm hits—a wild surge of wetness and pulsing heat that nearly rips him right over the edge.

“That’s it,” he groans, grinding through your climax. “Can feel you, baby—so good, so perfect—”

Your entire body seizes, your back arching, a wail echoing in your throat as you ride the waves of euphoria. The rhythmic squeeze of your cunt is too much for him. He chokes out your name, and his thrusts become erratic.

“I’m gonna—” His eyes squeeze shut, teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure. “Shit—”

He lets go, hips driving forward one last time as he buries himself deep inside you. A moan tears from his chest, raw and unfiltered, as he comes—hot pulses spilling into you, his entire body jolting with each spasm of release. His forehead drops to yours, and you can feel him shaking from the force of it.

You cling to him through it, breath ragged, tears still slipping down your cheeks. When the final shudder leaves him, he collapses against you, chest heaving, breath hot on your neck.

The air around you is thick with the scent of sex and the sound of shared your breathing. Neither of you moves at first—your bodies are too heavy with satisfaction, your hearts still pounding in tandem.

When he brushes his lips over your cheek and tastes the salt of your tears, something in his chest clenches, and he forces himself to move.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice rough around the edges. “Hey, you okay?”

You nod, though your eyes are wet and shining. You reach up to cup his jaw, and there’s so much wonder in your gaze that he nearly feels undone all over again. A laugh bubbles out of him—breathless, on the verge of tears himself.

He breaks off, throat tightening. You’re trembling slightly beneath him, your body still reacting to the waves of pleasure, and he’s struck by the overwhelming need to take care of you. With shaky hands, he eases himself off the bed, pressing one more kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, voice cracking from the weight of the moment.

You watch him disappear into the bathroom, your heart drumming. He returns a moment later with a small hand towel dampened with warm water. His hair is messy, eyes dark with emotion, and there’s a vulnerable smile tugging at his lips—like he’s on the edge of crying, too.

“Let me…” He trails off, gently parting your thighs.

He’s so careful, mindful of any soreness. When he presses the warm cloth against your skin, you let out a shaky exhale. It’s intimate in a way that almost feels more profound than sex itself—this slow and tender, the way he murmurs apologies whenever he brushes a sensitive spot.

“I’m sorry—sorry,” he whispers every time you flinch or gasp, even if it’s just a reflex.

You rest a hand on his forearm, tears sliding silently down your cheeks.

“You’re not hurting me,” you manage with a small smile.

He presses the cloth to your inner thigh one last time, then sets it aside. Without hesitation, he climbs back onto the bed, tugging the sheets around you both. The second he’s close enough, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he cocoons you against his chest, sighing with relief when your body lines up with his.

“Are you crying?” you ask softly, noticing the wet sheen in his eyes.

“No…” He huffs a breathy laugh that sounds suspiciously like a sob.

“I just… I don’t know. I didn’t expect to feel this much. I mean—” He swallows hard. “It’s… y’know?”

There he goes again, words once again failing him.

You nod, pressing your face to the crook of his neck, understanding him completely.

“I know.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. He holds you, fingers tracing idle patterns along your spine, your breathing syncing up in rhythm. He kisses the crown of your head, letting out a hum of contentment. You shift just enough to look into his face, eyes rimmed with lingering tears.

“I love you,” you whisper, palm cupping his cheek.

God, he’s never gonna get sick of hearing that.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch.

“I love you too, angel,”, He exhales, a soft tremor in his shoulders.

And he’s never gonna stop.

You let out a wet, breathy laugh.

He smiles back, full of adoration.

You have to hide your face in his chest, because you’re crying again, and so is he—but it’s the sweetest kind of crying.

It’s the sound of two hearts finding their place in each other, tangled up in the sheets, refusing to let go.

Steve’s eyes flutter open at a tickling sensation, your fingertips tracing idle shapes on his chest in a methodical pattern. He keeps perfectly still for a few seconds, lulled by the softness of your touch. He almost doesn’t want to move, afraid to break the moment.

Eventually, he can’t help letting out a lazy sigh, shifting just enough to capture your hand in his own. He laces his fingers through yours and opens his eyes fully, turning his head on the pillow to look at you.

“Morning,” you say quietly, a soft smile curving your lips.

“Mmm.” His voice is gravelly with sleep. “Morning.”

He blinks, absorbing the sight of you—hair mussed from sleep, face still glowing with the aftermath of last night’s intimacy.

“How long have you been awake?” he murmurs, rolling onto his side so he can see you better.

“Not long,” you admit, shifting closer until you can prop your head on your free hand. “I was thinking about where we could go.”

“What?” His brow wrinkles in sleepy confusion.

“Our trip,” you clarify, eyes brightening with excitement.

The trip.

The promise he made to you about getting away, somewhere just the two of you, so he could finally open up and lay out the parts of his past he’s been hiding.

“Oh, right,” he says, waking up more fully now. A slow smile stretches across his mouth. “Any ideas?”

“Hmm, that depends,” You tilt your head, a thoughtful expression settling in your features. “How long can you put up with me in the car?”

He lets out a small huff of laughter.

“That will not be a problem, trust me.”

“Big words.” you roll your eyes playfully. “Bet we fight over directions.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, “but we’ll figure it out.”

You lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips, and he draws in a contented breath, letting the sweetness of it curl through him.

He’s so in love, he can hardly believe it. And the best part is—he knows you love him too, has heard you say the words, felt the truth of them in every kiss and tear shed last night.

“How about I make some coffee,” he offers, pulling back a fraction, “and we can brainstorm some ideas?”

“Okay.” You grin.

He slides out from under the blankets, padding barefoot across the floor to your chest of drawers. He glances at you in question, and you nod, granting permission to open the top drawer—the one where you’ve started keeping a few spare clothes for him.

He grabs a fresh pair of boxers and a faded gray jumper before hunting down his jeans from the crumpled pile on the floor. As he slips the boxers on, he feels your gaze lingering on him, and he can’t suppress the smile that spreads over his face.

His cheeks heat up a little, but there’s no self-consciousness—just the buzz of being desired by the person he’s head over heels for.

“If you get dressed,” he says, tugging on his jeans, “we can always go to the cafe. Should still be open.”

You light up at the mention of it, immediately swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

“Perfect,” you say, rising to rummage in your closet. He shakes his head in amusement at how quickly you can switch from sleepy to energised, and you both share a grin as he slips through the door into the living area.

“Come find me when you’re ready,” he calls back.

He leaves the bedroom door ajar, wandering into the open-plan space. He crouches to where his shoes lie haphazardly near the sofa and slips one foot in, then the other. But as he does, his elbow nudges your bag, which has been leaning against the couch. It topples over, the contents spilling out across the floor with a soft thud-thud-thud of small items rolling away.

“Shit,” he mutters, instantly dropping to his knees to gather everything.

He picks up a stray lipbalm, a set of keys, and a small pursee, placing them back in the bag. A pen has rolled under the couch, which he has to stretch to reach. As he reorganises, his eyes catch sight of something else—a small notebook lying face-down, pages slightly crumpled at the edges.

He assumes it’s just for work notes or to-do lists, so he flips it over, intending to slip it back inside.

But then he sees the words on the open page. Words that send a chill racing up his spine.

Dates?

No, they have words attached to them, and the numbers don’t line up.

They’re all over the place, connected with arrows placing them forward and backwards, none of which are in the present.

They’re... events?

A timeline.

Little scribbles next to each, question marks, underlines. A timeline that doesn't take him long to figure out.

His heart kicks in his chest, hard.

Starcourt.

Earthquake.

A name he tried to bury:

Eddie Munson.

It’s written there, plain as day, circled in your familiar handwriting. The same scrawl he’s seen on shopping lists pinned to his fridge, on the little notes you leave him in the margins of books. And right next to Eddie’s name, the word “murders” underlined several times.

There are newspaper clippings taped onto another page—yellowed and carefully annotated in pen.

He almost drops the notebook as a rush of adrenaline floods him.

Eddie Munson.

A name from years ago, a friend he never quite got the chance to know but ended up entangled with all the same. The memory sends his stomach roiling. The official story, the one the papers had plastered everywhere, is a tangle of semi-truths and government cover-ups.

But you—why would you be digging into it?

He flips another page, his hand trembling. There’s more scribbled details: possible days, references to kids going missing, some mention of “suspicious flora—lab?”

His eyes skim lines that make little sense out of context but still contain enough hints to make his blood run cold.

The question marks after each clue are too close to the truth for comfort.

He realises that you’re so much closer to understanding everything than he ever imagined. The promise he made to himself—and to his doctor—was to keep the details of Hawkins’ horrors locked away, only sharing the bare minimum if it meant keeping you out of danger.

That was the plan.

The safe path.

The one you’d both talked about just last night while he told you he’d explain “everything.”

Except… you’d clearly been investigating on your own.

Possibly for weeks.

Months.

His breath comes too fast. He’s on his knees in your living room, hair falling into his eyes, heart banging against his ribs like it’s trying to escape.

He thought you were patiently waiting for him to open up.

How wrong he had been.

Instead, you’ve been digging behind his back, collecting articles, tracking down names.

Eddie’s name.

You’re close to things you can’t possibly understand—the Upside Down, the creatures, the secret ops that nearly destroyed them all.

Tremors work their way through his fingers as he grips the edges of the notebook. The words blur momentarily as panic stings at his eyes.

Did you suspect something about him?

Did you not trust him to tell you the truth, or were you just too curious to stop?

It strikes him like a blow.

You haven’t been waiting at all.

You’ve been forging your own path, collecting clues in an unthinkably risky puzzle. The fear courses through him, tangling with a sense of betrayal that leaves his chest tight.

This changes everything—everything.

He hears you in the other room, humming lightly as you search for clothes. The sweet morning optimism he’d felt—the jokes about the road trip, the images of you both singing along to the radio and stopping for greasy diner food—wavers like a mirage. His mind is spinning too fast to cling to it. He sets the notebook on the coffee table, his hand hovering over it like it might burn him.

Why were you doing this?

And more importantly.

Just how long have you been keeping this from him?

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer @chiliwhore @kvroomi @just-lilita @negomi123 @catluver02 @tinythebunni @everythinghasafacee @irrelevantbutembarrassing @almostfullstarfish @aurora-austen @yourgirlfriennd @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington oneshot #teacher!steve harrington x reader #teacher! steve harrington #teacher!steve harrington #teacher steve harrington #stranger things series #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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himasgod · 23 days ago

Note

HII!!! Can I request a Leona x fem!reader (if possible) x Vil where Vil spoils the reader ROTTEN by buying them perfumes, so Leona can't PHYSICALLY approach reader bc of his sensitive sense of smell? I love the bickering btw these two and I LOVE them.... It would be nice if u could come up w/ something for Leona to fight Vil back but no pressure ofc (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

LEONA AND VIL X READER

Where they fight over whose perfume you will wear

Vil, as always, spoiling you, gives you a perfume that Leona can't stand because of his highly sensitive nose. How would they act if Vil challenged him, and the two of them entered into a battle to see who gives you the best perfume?

The sweet and sophisticated scent of the new fragrance Vil had chosen for you wafted through the air filling the Pomefiore hallway.

The bottle of perfume, an exquisite blend of white flowers and woody notes, had been an unexpected gift from the model, who was particularly generous when it came to pampering you.

"It's a perfectly balanced scent, refined and elegant, just like you" Vil told you with a satisfied smile as he handed it to you.

Without much thought, you applied it, enjoying the scent that made you feel like a true queen.

However, you hadn't anticipated the imminent reaction of a certain lazy lion.

As soon as you entered Savanaclaw in his room, Leona, who was lying on his bed with his arm over his eyes, immediately frowned and groaned in disgust.

He quickly sat up and covered his nose with his arm.

"Ugh, what the hell are you wearing?" "He snorted, his tail whipping against the mattress.

"Huh? It's a new perfume Vil gave me,"

Leona let out an annoyed snort and took a couple of steps away from you, as if you were the bearer of a lethal curse.

"Damn, that stinks. I can't even get near you with that stench."

"Hey! It's not a stench, it's a luxury perfume."

"I don't care how much it cost, it smells too strong," he complained, crossing his arms with an annoyed expression.

"I can't even stand two meters away from you without wanting to sneeze."

Things got worse when Vil appeared the next day in class, perfectly composed and with a triumphant expression on his face.

“Ah, I see someone has too primitive a sense of smell to appreciate a quality fragrance,” he commented with a mocking smile.

Leona glared at him.

“Listen, cheap princess, if you keep dousing her in that perfumed garbage, I swear I’ll make you pay.”

“Please, Leona, don’t make me laugh. As if you’d be capable of doing anything against my good taste.”

The lion growled, visibly annoyed. Clearly, Vil was doing it on purpose, and the worst part was that you were in the middle of this ego war.

You looked down at your wrists, where you’d applied the perfume, and sighed.

“So what am I supposed to do? Can’t I smell nice just because your sense of smell is too sensitive?” you protested, crossing your arms.

Leona clicked his tongue and ruffled his hair in frustration.

"At least don't use the junk this guy gives you."

Vil smiled victorious.

"Oh, if it bothers you so much, why don't you buy something for her? Sure, if you know how to choose something with real glam."

Leona narrowed his eyes.

"Tsk, is that a challenge, peacock?"

"More like a chance to show you have some good taste. Which I doubt."

Leona let out a low and dangerous laugh.

"We'll see who laughs last, princess."

As the two of them glared at each other, you sighed, resigned.

Apparently, you'd now sparked a perfume war between Vil and Leona. And the worst part was that, no matter who won, you'd be the one who ended up receiving more gifts.

The next few days became a relentless battle.

First, Vil insisted on taking you shopping and selected a collection of exclusive perfumes for each occasion: a floral one for the day, one with oriental notes for the evening, and even a special one with enchanted rose extract that he claimed enhanced your natural beauty.

Leona, for his part, wasn't far behind. Though not the type to worry about such things, his wounded pride led him to search for something to counteract Vil's aromatic invasion. After a couple of days of disappearance, he returned with a small, dark glass bottle and handed it to you with a weary expression.

"Here. This at least doesn't stink as much as the peacock's mess."

As you opened it, a more subtle, warmer scent filled the air. Unlike Vil's perfumes, this one had earthy and spicy notes, with a hint of sandalwood and musk.

"Did you choose it?" you asked curiously.

Leona looked away and grunted.

"Who else do you think cares that I can approach you without feeling like my nose is being pierced?"

You smiled, feeling at the center of an absurd war.

Vil spoiled you like you were a princess, and Leona, even if he wouldn't admit it, wanted to make sure you were at least a "princess" he could hug without suffering a sensory meltdown.

"Hmmm, I think I'll have to try them all to decide which one I like best" you said with a wide smile.

The two of them looked at you suspiciously, and you knew this competition was far from over.

And you didn't complain, actually.

#leona x reader #vil x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted x reader #twisted one shot #vil schoenheit #leona kingscolar #vil shoenheit x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x vil x reader

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tan1shere · 7 months ago

Text

Make You

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: first fic for my lil kinktober ... tanntober? No that's stupid everyone else's sounds cute mine sounds busted 🥰 anyways PLEASE ENJOY 😈

Summary: you hated eachother.. so it seemed.

Warnings: smut, hate sex ?, bondage, rough Billie, fingering.

Masterlist - Halloween ML

I hate you...

Yeah. Turns me on

You were really good friends with Finneas and Claudia. So you were around quite a bit. And tonight was another small party at theirs, they'd often have a tiny one with the friend group plus some others. So you ofcourse knew Billie. Did you two get along? Nope, and here's why.

For some reason when you first became friends with them Billie was iffy about you. You had become friends with Claudia first, then Finneas. And suddenly you were around all the time. You were always so kind with everyone, and it seemed to bother her. She actually had no idea why she didn't like you she just didn't. Then you'd get brought up by one of them, and that started to bug her.

She was working with Finneas on some music, they were taking a break. "Y/n took this cute photo of peaches last night! She's actually good at photography-" Billies eyes roll. "Can we get back to this, please?" He stares at her. "What's your problem with her, shes so kind to you and lately you've been rude even to her face. Like fine do what you want or say what you want to me, but the poor girls done absolutely nothing to you." - "Yeah well she bugs me. How did you even meet her she kinda just spawned." He sets the mic he had in hand, down.

"Claudia was taking a pilates class and Y/n happened to be there and they got talking. Found out she lived quite close by, got to know her better and she was really sweet." Billie was getting tired of hearing about you. "We don't know what her intentions are." "Billie." She just shrugs. "What! She could be after you or something, she was getting cozy with you the other day I saw. Maybe she's going to break you and Claudia up!" Finneas looks at her like she's insane. "You really need to get to know her better. She's most definitely not after me." Her brows furrow. "And how do you know that?"

"Shes gay Billie, full blown lesbian. If anything she'd be interested in Claudia, but she isn't because she's just a decent human being, something you're kinda lacking at the moment." Maybe she was being quite over the top. She still hated you. But she might of been starting to realize why. Especially when she heard you were into girls. There was no doubt you were beautiful, too beautiful for words. When Billie was giving you dirty looks all the time she actually wasn't, in her mind she was thinking how effortlessly pretty you were. Maybe those things bugged her more so than the reason she claims to hate you for. Maybe she actually liked you but used the hatred method to get over it.

Regardless she still 'hated' you. And tonight you couldn't take it anymore. You had arrived early as usual, carrying a bag of supplies. "You didn't have to do that!" Claudia smiles at the girl. "Ofcourse i did! You know how much I love helping out." - "Ugh you're an angel." She says, helping you bring it in. Billie was there too and she couldn't help rolling her eyes, you being some perfect angel, she didn't believe it still. Even if the true reason was right infront of her. You on the other hand, had really liked Billie at first. She was gorgeous, she was talented and you admired her deeply.

That was until you found out she hated you, you kinda picked up on it with the looks and the snide comments. You tried to ignore it, saying that maybe she's just going through something. But that's just who you were, you'd always give people the benefit of the doubt. But you were strong you could handle people who mocked and criticized you when you had to. You stood up for yourself. And you sure as hell did tonight.

People started coming in the small house, crowding it ever so slightly. You had a drink in hand talking with some mutual friends you had made in the past year of knowing Finn and Claud. But you felt eyes on you. Not admiring ones, deadly ones. You turn to see it was ofcourse Billie. You wanted to ignore it but the drink was telling you to do the exact opposite. You excuse yourself from the conversation you were currently in and approach her on the couch. You never really talked to her, nor tried to. You got the impression it was pointless.

"Can we talk?" You ask so sweetly, you never had any bad intentions. But oh God she just wanted to rip that soft voice out of you. On the other hand she was a little shocked you'd even speak to her, she reluctantly said sure. Very nonchalantly, shrugging at the same time. She gets up and follows you to a quieter area. "Have I done something?" You finally ask, after months of knowing her, after months of her being crude. Yet another shrug. This wasn't going to be easy at all. "Well it sure seems as if I have, can I fix it?"

All you wanted was to be friends with people, never enemies. "Why are you so hell bent on making things perfect all the time." She finally snaps. "Billie-" "I swear you come in this house being all 'look at me I'm wonderful' When i doubt that's truly the case." You stare at her in disbelief. Finn had told you about Billie being off about you. But you never realized just how much. You swallow, unable to process her harsh words. "Well. If that's how you feel." She soon after nods. "Yup." You just scoff slightly. "Wow. Glad to know where I stand with you." Your feet go to move, when you then hear her speak.

"Hopefully really far away." The response was cold. You could feel your throat tightening, and honestly wanting to cry. But you weren't going to give her that satisfaction. "You're a bitch." You breathe out. "Right back at you." All you could think of was getting the hell out of there. You brush past people, Finneas being one of them. "Woah woah- where are you going?" His bewildered look made you sigh. "Ask your sister." You speak bluntly. Leaving after that. His brows furrow, on his way looking for her. Once he finds her he strides over. "What the fuck Billie." Eyes roll. Again.

"Oh what, did she come crying to you like a God damn baby? She came to me, I didn't start it." His head lowers, shaking it. "Jesus Billie, no she didn't come crying to me, she whooshed past heading for the door, she most definitely looked upset though. Why? Why have you got such a hatred for her for fuck sakes?" She just looks at her brother. "I dunno." He laughs slightly. "I do." Her brow raises, the left one. "Enlighten me." "You like her, but you can never deal with your feelings properly so you're pushing her away before you can fall too deep for her." Silence.

He knew her better than she knew herself, but it was true. The first time she ever did see you. Her heart was melting but she had to stop it. Maybe because of situations in the past, but she was too far into the hatred. She was genuinely believing she hated you. Even though it was a lie. "Whatever, I don't care. She started it." "No. You did, this would've never even happened if you hadn't grown this disliking bull shit. It's stupid." That was the last thing said before he leaves, Billie standing there not knowing what to do.

Nothing changed. Not even after Finneas scolded her. If anything the hatred grew, larger, causing you to hate her in the process. It was silly, but it happened. It was yet again another party, Claudia's brand had a new big release, so they were throwing a bit of a celebration. She had a small one two days ago, but decided a more boozey one would be fun. And it was at first, you were enjoying yourself. Dancing with a mutual friend, this one girl you had grown to like, Ava. A closer friend of Claudia's. She was always so bubbly and out there you loved it. Music was blasting, crowds of people. More so than the usual parties they'd throw.

A few drinks down and all you wanted to do was dance, Ava seemed to be on the same page, extending her hand out for you to grab. "Dance?" You smiled. "I thought you'd never ask!" You say loud enough over the booming music. Huge smiles were on both of your faces, but you couldn't help feeling the opposite shooting daggers into the back of your head. You sensed something. So instinctively you turn around, seeing none other than Billie. This time your eyes roll. You were so incredibly sick of her childishness. It was getting pathetic.

Your attention is soon back on Ava as her hands move to your waist, it was flirty. The whole situation. You hadn't realized Billies stare changed considering you weren't paying her any mind. It progressed into jealousy. She didn't ever want to admit that but it was true. That should be her, but she's gone too far. Screwed up too much to the point where you hated her guts. Only because she falsely hated you. It was all her dumbass fault. After a few songs you go upstairs to find the bathroom, stumbling just slightly.

Thankfully if you ever drunk too much they let you crash at theirs. Always. You were like family to them, more so Claudia. Both of your bonds were incredibly close. You come back out, but unpleasantly you met those stupid eyes. Ones that were beautiful, but attached to the person who drove you mental. Potentially in many ways..

"What do you want." - "You into her or something?" You glare at her. "Excuse me?" She presses her weight on her right leg. "Ava, she was getting quite close to you earlier." A scoff was heard from you. "Why on earth do you care. Might I mention all of a sudden, when you normally want to 'stay far away' from me." There was a slight pause, was she thinking of a response. Your eyes roll as you go to brush past her but she grabs your wrist. "Do you like her?" You try to pull. "Leave me alone Billie. Your presence is already pissing me off." She lets out a dry laugh. "Trust me, princess. Yours isn't liked a whole lot either. Don't get a big head." You wanted to scream in her face.

She was so infuriating. And even though that name was meant to be mocking you stupidly liked it. You give her one last glare before you're storming down the stairs. Her feet on your trail. You go to Ava and grab her face. "Kiss me." You say sweetly, mixed with a sultry tone. She smirked slightly. "Say no more." And she did just that, attaching her lips onto your own. Billie saw, vividly. If this was a cartoon, you'd surely see steam piping out of her ears. But why? Why on earth did this bother her so much. For someone who didn't give a fuck about you. She sure did seem to care a fuck ton.

After an hour or so you were going back up to the bathroom, making sure everything's still intact. When your wrist is being grabbed. "He!-" Then a hand was slapped against your mouth. "Zip it." Your eyes meet hers in the mirror, your instincts finally kicking in after the initial confusion. You bite her hand making her retract, pushing her back. "What the fuck is wrong with you. Do tell cuz I'm getting genuinely sick of this shit." She laughs in your face. It was cold and mocking. Just like all the other times before. "You're just a spoilt bitch you know that." Your eyes roll but she grabs your jaw. "You love rolling your eyes huh."

You push her off of you, again. "What? you're the only one who can?" - "Smart mouth." She says.

"Fucking dick." You stare at one another for a second, something shifted in the air. Something different. She slowly backs you up against the sink. No words to be said, just actions. Her eyes going over your face, eyes, cheeks nose. Lips. Your heart picks up at the current moment. The whole situation being odd. Still no words. Her eyes linger on your lips, hands eventually making contact with your hips. What were you giving in to? It felt like you were. This new found tension. Her face was incredibly close to your own. You hated that you liked this, you hated how she has you currently. You felt weak, weaker than you had been.

"I hate you." You seethed, but it was hushed. Unable to focus on forming the right sentences. "Yeah, turns me on." Your breath hitches in your throat, only visible to your mind. Glad she couldn't see how wound up you are getting. You couldn't take the slight tease. You give into everything. Leaning in to kiss her, it was intense, messy. Hot, like lava. Her hands move over your body as you shift in her touch. "Hate you so much." You say on her lips. "Sure you do." You hum. Resuming the kiss, but hers goes to your chin, jaw. Neck. You breathe out. "Hate you.." - "Just shut up." Her teeth sink into your skin, doing just as she had asked. Your mouth shut tight. Eyes doing the same.

When all of a sudden your back hits the bathroom wall. Her hands grip your wrists and shove them above your head, against the cold brick. Your shocked expression makes her laugh. "I hate you too angel, with a burning passion." Her knee presses hard against your clothed cunt, causing your mouth to fall open with a gasp. "God you make me so angry, but look at you. At the same time I just wanna fuck you senseless. This time your eyes would be rolling for a different reason." "Please." Your voice was moany, whiney. All of the above. You needed this and now. She goes to lock the door, slithering her belt out in the process.

It was her HMHAS one, so it was perfect for what she wanted to do. "Everything off." And in a heartbeat her request was fulfilled. She sighs out, making your thighs clench at how hot it sounded. "Even through all the hate I still wanted you deep down." She admitted, making you swoon for this more. "Need you." She smirks at you, how eager you have become. "Yeah? Turn around, wrists together." How could you possibly deny that. Your back faces her as your arms go behind you. She ties that same belt tightly around them, fastening it in the black lock. You were truly trapped. And she was loving it.

"You gotta stay quiet though, can't have anyone know what we are up to can we?" You look at her. "What, wouldn't want people hearing that you don't actually hate me?" Your breath soon gets caught as she grabs the end of the belt, tightening it harder. "Watch it." She not only warns with her voice but her eyes too. You glare at her slightly, eventually feeling her tug you around and sitting you on the sink counter. "Stay quiet. If you don't do exactly as I say I'll leave you here. With nothing." Your eyes fell. Deciding to stop the act and just listen. Her fingers meet your wet pussy making your head fall against the mirror. "Fuck-" You bite your lip, remember what she had said.

"Mmm, close one huh?" You bit hard, nodding slightly. Her fingers slowly make contact with your entrance wasting no time into dipping them in, harshly. She was fucking evil. She wasn't even going to try be nice by taking it slow. Ensuring some noises come out. Your lip starts to bleed and she just laughs. "You stupid girl." You wanted to slap her, and you go to do so but remember. You can't. A tiny groan leaves your throat. "Uh-huh, think again." She says, noticing you struggle in the belt. When she hears you whine, muffled by your teeth sinking into your lip.

Her pace was ungodly, sending your eyes to truly roll back. "That's it, take them like the greedy bitch you are." You retreat your teeth from its former position. "Mm, fuck you." You mindlessly say. "Oh baby, don't say things you know you can't handle." You gave up, gave up with trying to outsmart her in any way. "Billie please, just fucking ruin me." Your request had her shocked slightly. "Don't underestimate me baby." - "I plan to."

Her fingers swiftly move out of you, earning a moan at the feeling and stretch. Her Jeans hit the floor, making you look infront at the fake dick. She looked so good, staring down at you with such lust. Enjoying the fact she was way taller than you now, your form sinking into the counter. Your body slumped. Anticipating what was about to come. Preferably you. The tip of the cock touches your weeping hole, making your mind race. You didn't care anymore you needed this more than anything. "Please put it in, please Billie-" And she does. Deep. Taking things on the faster side, fucking you absolutely filthy. Your head leans back again as it hits deeper. "Shit." You mutter softly. When you heard knocking. "Everything alright in there." Your eyes widen as you hear Avas voice.

She didn't know you were in there, but Billie needed her to. She had to show what was now hers. No one else was in here fucking your brains out, it was her. Just her. So she thrusts deeper than she had that night, hitting your g-spot causing you to let out a breathy moan. Bingo. "Yep! Just had a drunken lil accident and got hurt but it's all ok." Billie then replies. What a fucking liar, a good one because Ava seemed to believe it mainly. But Billie didn't stop, not one bit. "You're so annoying." You moan again. "Am I really? I'm just so annoying, isn't it so annoying that I'm fucking you so good. Your eyes are getting a good view of the back of your head. Yeah, how annoying."

Your eyes begin to shut, but her hand fixes on your jaw, holding tight. "Still hate me huh?" "Mhmmm." You say with your teeth back on your lip. "Mm, those noises tell me otherwise." She gets the perfect angle, hitting that blissful spot deep inside you. "Billie-" You gasp. "Go on, cum all over it. Gush all your hate on my dick baby." That alone sent you insane, your back arching as her thrusts continue. "Fuckfuckfuck." You chant as you felt it coming. Your orgasm has you shaking, has her satisfied. She was in awe seeing you like this.

"Still hate me, princess?"

#billie eilish #billie #billie elish moodboard #billie eilish fanfiction #billie ellish lyrics #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x reader smut #billie eilish x y/n #kinktober

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evermoreness · 2 months ago

Note

if you wrote somethin about flirting with boyfriend remus and he slips his hands in ur back pockets…..just sayin i’d love you forever

— Anon, you gave me such good ideas! Here it is, hope you like it.

back pocket | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't like much public displays of affection, but he still likes to put his hand in your back pocket.

obs: feel free to send any requests!

masterlist

Hogsmeade weekends had always been something special. The crisp autumn air, the scent of butterbeer wafting from the Three Broomsticks, the distant chatter of students wandering from shop to shop—it was all perfect. But nothing made it better than having Remus by your side.

You and Remus walked side by side down the cobbled streets, the occasional brush of your shoulders sending warmth through you. He wasn’t one for grand displays of affection—no dramatic kisses in the middle of the street, no loud proclamations. But the way he loved you was in the small things.

Like now, when he casually slipped his hand into the back pocket of your jeans as you strolled past Zonko’s Joke Shop. It was such a simple gesture, but it made your heart stutter. He wasn’t even looking at you when he did it—just talking to you about some book he wanted to pick up at Tomes and Scrolls—but the touch was grounding, warm, undeniably intimate.

It was casual, effortless—just his fingertips resting in the fabric, his palm warm against you. Yet, the simplicity of it made your heart swell. Remus had never been one for grand displays of affection. He wasn’t the type to kiss you in the middle of the Great Hall or pull you onto his lap in front of the Marauders. But he had his own ways of showing love.

Like this.

Like the way he always made sure to walk on the outside of the path, keeping you away from the street, even if it meant switching sides every few minutes.

Like how he always carried your books when you were too tired, even if he already had a pile of his own.

Like how he always saved you a seat next to him, no matter where you were—class, the common room, the library.

Like the way he looked at you, like you were something rare, something he couldn’t believe was his.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the soft flush creeping up his neck. "Smooth, Lupin," you teased, grinning.

He didn’t falter, just raised an eyebrow at you. "Oh? You don’t like it?"

You hummed, pretending to think. "Didn’t say that, did I?"

His lips curled into a smirk, and he gave a gentle squeeze where his hand rested. "Good."

You nodded, leaning in slightly. "Hand in the back pocket, Lupin. That’s practically scandalous."

He chuckled, his grip tightening just the slightest bit. "Then I suppose I’m becoming reckless in my old age."

Unfortunately, moments of peace like these never lasted when the Marauders were around.

"Oi, Moony!" Sirius’ voice rang out, followed by his loud, obnoxious laughter. "Hand in the back pocket? Really? Are you two in a bloody romance novel?"

"Merlin’s beard," James groaned beside him, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "That’s even worse than when Lily and I hold hands in class."

"Nothing is worse than that, Prongs," Peter chimed in, looking between you and Remus with amusement.

Remus, however, remained completely unfazed. He barely even glanced at them as he continued walking, his hand still comfortably in your pocket. "If you lot are so interested in my love life, I could give you a very detailed report of my last few dates. Would you like that?"

Sirius gagged. "Absolutely not."

Peter chimed in. "Yes!"

James scrunched his nose. "Ew! What exactly is wrong with you, wormtail?"

"I'm just saying" Peter shrugged while the others laughed about it.

"Hey, baby" Lily appeared out of nowhere, hugging James. "Hey, everyone" She said, turning to give each one a little wave. James definitely lit up just by having her there.

"Lily, my love, finally!" James dramatized, kissing her cheek.

Sirius groaned dramatically. "Ugh, please, can you two flirt somewhere else?"

You grinned. "Oh, don’t be jealous, Black."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I would never be jealous of such a boring couple."

"Then shut up," Remus said simply, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"You’re both still gross," Sirius muttered.

"And you’re still single," Remus shot back, making you laugh.

James doubled over laughing, and Remus let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb grazing against your hip through the fabric of your robe. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the simple touch of it, the way he always seemed to know how to make you feel warm even in the autumn air.

"You want to go inside?" he asked softly, tilting his head toward the Three Broomsticks.

You nodded, and just like that, he guided you toward the door, his hand slipping away from your pocket only to rest at the small of your back. Another small thing. Another gesture that said more than words ever could.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded as usual, but the six of you managed to grab a corner booth. James and Lily sat pressed together on one side, while Sirius dramatically sprawled out beside Peter. You and Remus took the other side, you had to sit in his lap since there was absolutely no space left, your back comfortably against his chest as you both sipped your butterbeer.

"You do realize you’re using me as a chair, right?" Remus murmured, though his arms around you suggested he didn’t mind.

"You’re comfortable," you replied simply, tilting your head up to grin at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you love me," you teased.

Remus smiled against the rim of his mug. "That I do."

Lily, who had been watching with an affectionate smile, turned to James. "See? Why can’t you be that sweet?"

James put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Lily, love, I am a dream boyfriend."

"You’re an overgrown Golden Retriever," she corrected, though she was smiling.

Sirius snickered. "He really is. I bet if you threw a stick, he’d fetch it."

"You lot are just jealous of my charm," James declared.

"Of course, Prongs," Remus said, completely deadpan. "That must be it."

Lily leaned her head on James’ shoulder, laughing softly. "He’s lucky he’s cute."

"See?" James beamed. "She admits it."

The evening passed in comfortable warmth, laughter mixing with the hum of the crowded pub. You and Remus shared quiet smiles, your fingers tangled together under the table.

The walk back to Hogwarts was filled with the kind of easy, warm chatter that only close friends could have. The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of butterbeer and the faint smokiness of fireplaces from the village. The sky above was deep blue, speckled with stars, and the group of you strolled along the path leading back to the castle, boots crunching against the gravel.

Lily was walking ahead with James, who was dramatically recounting a story about how he “heroically” saved a first-year from Peeves.

"So there I was," James began, gesturing wildly, "cornered in the Charms corridor, a poor, defenseless first-year behind me, and Peeves holding an entire bucket of ink over our heads."

"Defenseless?" Lily scoffed. "He was just standing there."

"Exactly! Helpless. So, naturally, I had to act."

"You threw your shoe at him," Remus said flatly, amusement flickering in his eyes.

"And it worked, didn’t it?" James argued.

"Yeah, after he dumped the ink on you first," Sirius snorted.

Peter cackled. "You spent the entire day looking like a human ink blot!"

"It was a small price to pay for the safety of my fellow student," James said with an exaggerated sigh.

Lily shook her head, though she was smiling. "You're unbelievable."

You laughed, nudging Remus. "I swear, they get worse every day."

Remus smirked but didn’t comment, just gently slipped his fingers through yours. His hand was warm, his grip firm but comfortable, like he was telling you without words that he was right there.

You glanced up at him, squeezing his hand. "You’re awfully quiet, Moony."

"Just enjoying the show," he murmured, lips twitching as he watched James and Sirius dramatically reenact the ink disaster.

Sirius was now pretending to be Peeves, floating around James with exaggerated arm movements. "Oh nooo, Mister Potter! You’re about to be—SPLAT!" He mimed dumping ink over James’ head.

James gasped, clutching his heart. "Betrayed! By my own heroism!"

"You weren’t a hero," Lily said, shaking her head.

James turned to Remus, looking for support. "Moony, tell her. That was a very noble thing I did."

Remus gave him a completely blank look. "You threw your shoe at a poltergeist, James."

"A heroic shoe," James clarified.

"You didn’t even get it back," Peter reminded him.

"That just makes it more heroic," James insisted.

Sirius clapped him on the back. "We’ll carve your name into a plaque. ‘James Potter, the boy who sacrificed his shoe for the greater good.’"

You giggled, leaning into Remus. "They’re exhausting, but I love them."

He smiled down at you, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Yeah, me too."

Sirius suddenly groaned loudly. "Ugh, you two are doing that soft, romantic thing again."

You raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And it’s disgusting," Sirius declared. "All this... hand-holding and fond gazes. I can’t bear it."

Remus smirked. "I suppose we could start snogging instead, if you prefer?"

Sirius gagged. "Absolutely not."

James looked thoughtful. "You know, it’s funny. A year ago, if someone had told me Moony would be the one out of all of us in a committed, disgustingly cute relationship first, I wouldn’t have believed them."

"Oi," Remus protested.

Lily tilted her head. "Really? I would’ve guessed him first."

James looked scandalized. "You would? Why?"

Lily gave him a pointed look. "Because Remus is the only one who isn’t an insufferable flirt."

James turned to you, looking for backup. "You don’t agree with that, do you?"

You grinned. "I love you, James, but she’s got a point."

Sirius snickered. "She really does."

James huffed, but Lily took his hand, smiling at him. "Oh, don’t pout. I love you even if you are insufferable."

James immediately perked up. "Really?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Don’t let it go to your head."

Peter sighed dramatically. "I feel like I’m the only sane one here."

"You, Wormtail?" Sirius laughed. "You joined in on the ink prank!"

Peter shrugged. "It was funny."

The castle loomed ahead, the warm glow of torchlight flickering through the windows. As you all reached the entrance, James sighed dramatically. "Well, another successful Hogsmeade trip. No detentions, no injuries—"

"You spilled butterbeer in your pants," Remus pointed out.

James waved a hand dismissively. "Details."

The warmth of the castle wrapped around you as the group made their way inside, the laughter and teasing gradually fading as the others headed toward the Gryffindor common room. James and Lily were still bickering playfully, Sirius was going on about how he could single-handedly take down Peeves if given the chance, and Peter was just shaking his head at all of them.

You, however, lingered at the bottom of the staircase with Remus, the flickering torchlight casting a soft glow over both of you.

You sighed, smiling up at him. "Well, I suppose this is where we part ways."

He made a small noise, almost reluctant. "Unfortunately."

You tilted your head playfully. "Oh? You sound like you’ll just wither away without me."

Remus chuckled, his hazel eyes twinkling. "Don’t flatter yourself."

You grinned, stepping back slightly. "Alright then, I’ll be off—"

Before you could turn, his fingers caught your wrist, pulling you back gently but firmly. You let out a small gasp as you stumbled a step closer to him. He wasn’t normally one to be so bold, especially not where others might see, but the entrance hall was empty now, and there was something in his eyes—something warm, something wanting.

"You’re not in a rush, are you?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And what if I am?"

His lips twitched. "Then I suppose I’ll have to convince you to stay."

You crossed your arms, pretending to think. "Convince me, huh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that, Lupin?"

He hummed, as if considering, then with a slow, almost lazy confidence, he slipped both hands into your back pockets, pulling you flush against him.

A surprised laugh escaped you. "Oh, so that’s your strategy?"

His smirk deepened, but there was a soft pink dusting his cheeks. "Is it working?"

Your heart fluttered as you looped your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his hair. "Mmm, I don’t know. You might have to try a little harder."

His thumbs rubbed slow, absentminded circles through the fabric of your jeans, and his voice was quiet but playful. "Demanding, aren’t you?"

You grinned. "Only with you."

He leaned down slightly, his forehead almost touching yours. "Lucky me."

You stared at him, your smile softening. "Yeah, lucky you."

His expression shifted, something tender replacing the teasing glint in his eyes. He didn’t always say how he felt, but moments like this, where he just looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, were enough.

"You know," you murmured, "for someone who doesn’t like public displays of affection, you’re being awfully affectionate right now."

He huffed a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against yours. "No one’s here."

"Still," you teased, "what happened to ‘I show my love in subtle ways’?"

His grip on you tightened slightly. "This is subtle."

You raised an eyebrow. "Both hands in my back pockets is subtle?"

He smirked. "Completely."

You shook your head, laughing. "You’re ridiculous."

"And yet," he murmured, brushing his nose against yours, "you love me anyway."

Your teasing grin softened. "I do."

His breath hitched slightly, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you. It was soft, lingering, like he was trying to hold onto the moment for just a little longer. You melted into it, fingers curling into his hair, savoring the warmth of him, the way he held you like you were something precious.

A smile played on your lips as you pulled your lips apart, your bodies nearly flush. "You, breaking rules for me? I'm honored."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "It's hardly breaking the rules. Prefect privileges, remember?"

"Oh, of course," you teased. "How could I forget? You’re the responsible one."

"Exactly," he murmured, his arms sliding gently around your waist. "And right now, I’m responsibly using my time to be with my girlfriend a little longer."

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you swayed slightly in his embrace. The torches along the corridor flickered, casting long shadows, but all you could focus on was the way he looked at you—like you were something precious, something worth bending the rules for.

"You’re soft, Lupin," you whispered playfully, fingers absentmindedly tangling in his hair.

His lips curled into a smirk, but he didn’t argue. "Only for you."

Your stomach flipped at that, heat rising to your cheeks. "That was dangerously sweet."

"Good," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "I meant it to be."

A comfortable silence settled between you, your bodies still pressed close. It was moments like this that made your heart ache in the best way possible—just the two of you, tucked away in some quiet corner of the castle, stealing time before curfew.

"You really don’t want to let me go, do you?" you teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face.

He exhaled softly, his fingers giving the tiniest squeeze against your hips. "Not really."

You bit your lip, warmth blooming in your chest. "You’re ridiculously cute when you’re clingy."

"I’m not clingy," he argued, though his grip on you didn’t loosen in the slightest.

You grinned. "Oh no? So what do you call this?"

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Maybe I am a little."

You tilted your head, considering. "I think I like it."

Remus laughed, shaking his head. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you love me," you teased.

He smiled, the kind of soft, adoring smile that always made you melt. "Yeah. I really do."

You felt your cheeks warm, but before you could respond, the distant sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor.

Remus sighed, finally, reluctantly, releasing you. "Go before Filch catches you out of bounds."

You pouted. "You’re no fun."

He smirked. "I’ll save you a seat at breakfast to make up for it."

You hummed. "With extra toast?"

"Obviously."

You smiled, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back. "Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, love," he murmured, watching you go with that same soft look in his eyes.

And as you disappeared down the corridor, you couldn’t help but think—Merlin, you were hopelessly in love with him.

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